The anecdotes about chieftains and their chelas, the ode to Farrukhabad, and the art of expressing time through chronograms make Tarikh-i-Farrukhabad a compelling read.
Local histories of little-known provinces and sketches of its people are fascinating but hard to come by (Courtesy Lamat R Hasan)
Mufti Syed Waliullah Farrukhabadi’s Tarikh-i-Farrukhabad is written in Persian, a language I do not know.
But I made up my mind to read it when I found it being referenced in historical accounts of the decline of the Mughal dynasty – and in some detail in British historian William Irvine’s account of The Bangash Nawabs of Farrukhabad.
As a civil servant in India, Irvine learnt to read Persian, and started collecting manuscripts – including Waliullah’s (1751-1833). With some difficulty I traced Waliullah’s manuscript, written in 1829, measuring 10 inches by six inches, with exquisite gold inscriptions. Acquiring a digital copy of the manuscript was another task and then engaging a Persian instructor to help me wade through significant chunks.
Waliullah writes that after Delhi was invaded by the Marathas around 1757, many of the nobles from the former Mughal capital sought shelter in Farrukhabad, named after Farrukhsiyar, the tenth Mughal emperor. It was Nawab Mohammad Khan Bangash who founded the city in 1714. It was also home to a lot of holy men and referred to as “Faquirabad” (the land of ascetics). With the setting up of a mint in 1803, it became an important centre of commerce and was known for its superior quality of silver and gold coins.
The title of the book is a little misleading as Waliullah’s work doesn’t quite fit into the genre of microhistory. Though his focus is on Farrukhabad, the scope of his work is not restricted to the town or the tiny settlements around it, its chieftains and their chelas (followers), but covers the decline of the Mughal empire and the rise of British imperialism as well.
The little anecdotes about the chieftains and their chelas, the shair-o-shairi, such as an ode to Farrukhabad, the town Waliullah moved to from Sandi as a nine-year-old, and the art of expressing time through trsim waqt or chronograms (a sentence in which letters interpreted as numerals stand for a specific date) make for a compelling read.
Lamat R Hasan (Courtesy the subject)
Waliullah informs that the tomb of poetess Gunna Begum (wife of a vizier in the Mughal empire and daughter of a famous Iranian poet) bears a trsim waqt which translates as “Alas! Gunna Begum”. Other chronograms mention date of births or deaths such as “Hai, Hai, Hatim Tai séni na mand”, which is interpreted as 1771. Incidentally, Waliullah’s own date of death was derived from a chronogram – “Ganj-z-ma’ni ba-raft zer zamin” – inscribed by his contemporary Bahadur Ali Syed.
Other fascinating details include the inventions of the qutub-nama (magnetic compass), doorbeen (binoculars), and the types of weapons the British possessed to conquer new lands.
Local histories of little-known provinces and sketches of its people are fascinating but hard to come by – no surprise then that I devoured the very pages Irvine critiqued as “biographies of obscure Muhammadan worthies who lived in, or had visited Farrukhabad”.
Lamat R Hasan is an independent journalist. She lives in New Delhi.
source: http://www.hindustantimes.com / Hindustan Times / Home> News> Books / by Lamat R Hasan / December 22nd, 2023
Tarana Husain Khan doesn’t write women only as damsels in distress, she writes them as women who challenge.
Tarana Husain Khan.
I don’t remember when my mother first told me, “Boys will be boys.” as an explanation. But I trusted it. The 20-year-old I am now knows it’s an eraser. A cleaning towel that wipes away the grim men produce. Over our words. Over our careers. Over our bodies. It’s an explanation that deletes a lived history with a swift and casual swipe. Tarana Husain Khan’s The Begum and the Dastan resists this erasure.
Khan’s character, Ameera’s grandmother, whom she calls Dadi, tells her the dastan about Feroza Begum, Ameera’s great-grandmother. Feroza Begum attended sawani celebrations at Nawab Shams Ali Khan’s Benazir Palace, defying her family, only to be kidnapped by the Nawab. Although the premise sounds simple, Khan crafts the dastan carefully, preserving the dynamics in Sherpur, a princely state, like one would sour pickle in a jar. Her writing serves as a citation for the overused “Show, don’t tell” technique, arranging the elements of time, location and character through a nuanced understanding of history.
She weaves together the stories of three women, Lalarukh, Feroza and Ameera, with the help of three dastangos, about Kallan Mirza, Ameera’s Dadi, and herself. Each story, within another story, surrenders as a cautionary tale. Sometimes, as a spoiler, that hands you the reins to ride through the rest of the story.
Blame slithers across each story, hissing at every woman who defies and exercises her need for independence. During the forced marriage to the Nawab, women around the bride were “tut-tutting over Feroza’s heartlessness”, believing she aborted her pregnancy from her previous marriage. The blame congeals on Feroza, a victim of forced abortion by the Nawab. In the rumours, the Nawab is a man she loves, not her abuser. The cruelty of these women steps outside the realm of gossip, nipping at Feroza’s right to refuse consent to her nikah.
“‘Feroza Begum, daughter of Altaf Khan urf Miya Jan Khan, your wedding has been arranged to Nawab Shams Ali Khan Bahadur, son of Nawab Murad Ali Khan Bahadur for a sum of two lakh rupees as meher. Do you agree?’
What if she just didn’t say anything?
‘She says “yes”!’ A middle-aged woman dressed in her bridal dress, suddenly shouted towards the curtains. Feroza turned towards the woman. The old lady in charge of her elbowed her ribs.
‘Uh?’ she turned sharply towards the offending lady.
‘I heard it too. She said “yes”!’ said the old lady, then another woman joined in bearing witness to her acquiesce and then another.”
“Why wouldn’t a divorced woman who aborted her child marry the Nawab?” is the rhetoric that these women echo. It’s a form of enabling, but Khan exerts dialogue, channelling prose to amplify Feroza’s reaction, forgotten amidst placeholder approval. She choreographs the myth “she asked for it” by excluding the chorus of the maulvi asking for consent thrice, as is tradition, to exacerbate the rumours that enable, and more terrifyingly, erase. Another dialogue chimes in to note this eager “consent” by Feroza. In these instances, Khan’s narrator, Dadi, is not just a storyteller; but an advocate for forgotten history.
But Khan doesn’t write women only as damsels in distress; she writes them as women who challenge. Feroza wears what she wants, despite the word that the patriarchy will impose on her: nautch. Khan examines how the question of her attire serves as a justification for the harassment. When Bibi, Feroza’s maid, asks her to “let it be”, as she was “wearing that dress”, Feroza doesn’t surrender to the blame. Instead, Feroza asks these questions: what if she was one of the common women? What if she was a nautch?
Khan tackles clothing not only as a form of rebellion but as an identifier of communion and the dismissal of “the other”. When Feroza sights a British woman wearing a “strange gown”, she argues that she should’ve worn “our dress” because she’s in “our country”. Other times, this divide is a form of empowerment.
“Strangely, guys don’t pester scarf-wearing girls with ‘I want to be your friend’ proposals. So us scarfed girls choose to talk to guys we like and make boyfriends on our own. It’s pretty cool that way, though I long to throw away the scarf and open up my hair like I used to at St Mary’s.”
Ameera’s perception of the scarf rewrites the reputation of the vilified veil, untying the folds that make it an oppressive tool while recognising how being “the other” means a kind of protection. A woman’s scarf, her dress, and her jewellery make an argument in this novel. But the expectations that pin a scarf around Ameera’s head, and a nath on Feroza’s nose, encourage a misplaced trust in the men in their lives.
Across the three stories in the novel, protagonists expect men to protect, not because they victimise themselves, but because that’s what’s taught to women: dependence is a desired trait. Khan acknowledges how patriarchy dribbles on the men, drawing out how Lalarukh, Feroza and Ameera feel betrayed by the men in their lives for not protecting them. The cadence of this betrayal morphs across the stories as Khan manipulates language like a glassblower does glass.
“I do believe that in this day and age nobody should bully you into selling your property – these are not the Nawab’s times; but if it was Jugnu’s fees and his exams, Abba would sell off the shops and chuck the case in a heartbeat. We females always depend on our fathers or males to rescue us – our default response to a crisis. Imagine, poor Feroza Begum’s father dumped her in the harem and ran away!”
Khan wields the tone of each story, carefully grafting the premise of a woman wronged in different periods and spaces. She uses the first-person perspective to narrate Ameera’s life, crumbling with her family’s negligence towards her, using a voice akin to a teenager simmering with anger. But for Lalarukh and Feroza, Khan, or rather Dadi and Kallan Mirza, uses the third-person perspective, a voice that is omniscient and viscous, dripping of superiority.
They narrate the violence of Nawab and Tareef Khan, Lalarukh’s kidnapper, without embellishments. The abusers are not kings or sorcerers in the chapters that harrow. They are written as, to no surprise, violators. Khan’s treatment of the dynamic between the Nawab and Feroza contradicts this claim sporadically. But when Feroza reciprocates the Nawab’s ‘love’ for her, he continues to dredge her in the limitations of his harem, remaining free himself, further testifying the degree of his abuse. Feroza is a flawed character, but she is not a flawed victim, and Khan asserts that.
Like Khan, both Dadi and Kallan Mirza are biased narrators, intervening to train their listener(s) to root for the protagonist. They collectively fuel a question: How does tradition, along with law, permit the violation of women? Unfortunately, the stories, or rather the lived experiences that ask this question, are muzzled. But the dastangos, both the real and the fictitious, bite through the labour that accompanies such storytelling. The story prompts the question: How can one write history without condoning it? In The Begum and the Dastan, history is an inspiration, a tool, and an anchor, but it is not a justification.
pix: amazon.in
source: http://www.scroll.in / Scroll.in / Home> Book Review / by Isa Ayidh / (book cover image edited in, amazon.in) /June 27th, 2021
Jushna Shahin’s passion for the sport made her achieve the unthinkable.
Jushna at the conference room Spain. | Picture by arrangement
Kerala :
Jushna Shahin’s earliest memories are of watching football matches on TV with her family in Kerala’s Mangattuparamb village.
As a die-hard Lionel Messi fan, Shahin got her chance to do her bit for the game in 2009 when she was selected as one among the 70 students in JNU for the language assistant program in Spain by the Ministry of Education, Spain. “In our village, girls rarely went outside of their homes, other than going to school etc,” Shahin, a teaching assistant and football reporter in Spain, told TwoCircles.net. “Girls going out to play was out of the question, and that put an end to my dream of playing the sport.”
The Kendriya Vidyalaya high school where she studied encouraged sports, but Shahin was not comfortable with the usual sports uniform of shorts and t-shirt.
This did not keep the girl away from football. “I spent my time learning about the sport, and its laws and rules,” she said.
Love for Spanish and Messi Shahin said she wanted to study Spanish when she was in 10th grade so that she could talk to Messi.“I don’t know if it will materialize or not but I will make efforts,” she said.
In 2019 when she got her first salary working in Spain, Shain bought tickets for the UEFA Champions League in Barcelona to see her sports hero play live. “It was unreal and amazing,” she said.
The following day, she went over to the Barcelona club’s office and handed over a hand- letter meant for Messi, hoping that he would reply one day.
Jushna Shahin on a visit to a Vine Cathedral with her students at the IES Santa Isabel de Hungria, Spain. | Picture by arrangement
Last year when Messi moved to the Paris Saint Germain (PSJ) football club in France, Shahin flew to Paris and witnessed the team getting trained. “My heart-throbbing moment was when I watched Messi getting trained,” she said.
While in 11th grade, Shahin attended a camp organized by students of central universities to help those interested to pursue studies outside Kerala. Contacts she made from the camp helped her for the entrance exams. “Even after I cleared the exams, my parents were not convinced about pursuing Spanish as a graduation course. However, they gave in to my wishes,” she said.
In September 2019, Shahin traveled to Spain on her first international trip.
After landing in Spain she found that the Spanish she had learned from textbooks was not the same as spoken by people in Spain. “It was a challenge. Also, the other Indian student’s who had been selected were all placed in different cities of Spain. To travel to a new country was exciting but I felt tense and insecure initially,” she said.
Love for sports writing In 2014, when Shahin was at JNU, she started writing journalistic pieces for the Companion magazine. She would write short reports about the matches she watched. Her interest in sports writing led her to report for The Footy Times , which is an online magazine devoted to publishing football journalism. She started reporting for the magazine during the 2018 FIFA World Cup and has been writing for it since. She has also reported for Malayalam news channel MediaOne and online news website MaktoobMedia.
Shahin recalled two events as the most exciting during her work as a football reporter. In 2021 when the stadiums were closed to the public amid a global pandemic, she was one of the few media persons with accreditation pass reporting the semi-finals of the Copa del Rey in Spain. “I was seven months pregnant at the time,” she said
In February 2022, she got accreditation from the Paris Saint-Germain (PSG) Football Club to report the UEFA Champions League round 16 in Paris. She also attended a press conference at the home stadium of PSG club where hers was one among the ten questions asked to Karim Benzema (Real Madrid captain). “Now that stadiums are open for the public, I don’t think I will get the chance to go in with the media persons alone to watch a match in a closed stadium. That makes my reporting during the last year very special,” Shahin said.
Jushna with her husband Awad and daughter Eva. | Picture by arrangement
Having been called crazy for her dreams and passion, Shahin shrugs it off and said, “What’s important and special for you might be very silly for the other person. It’s better not to see and look at your dreams in other people’s frameworks. Create your own dream and respect it, and be confident. Instead of just dreaming it, try to work on it. The only thing that matters is whether you are happy with it or not,” she added.
Shahin’s parents had seen her love for football only as a childhood interest and never knew she would pursue a career related to the game.
“More than her craze for football through Messi, I am happy that she is in the field of football journalism,” said her father CKA Jabbar, veteran journalist and associate editor of Malayalam news portal kvartha.com. “Love for football and writing have been in her since childhood, and she worked hard to follow her dream,” said her mother, Nazila CH, working in the Animal Husbandry Department under the Government of Kerala in Thiruvananthapuram.
Shahin now lives with her husband, Awad Ahmad, and eight 8-months-old daughter in the city of Vigo in north-western Spain.
Najiya O is a freelance journalist based in Calicut, Kerala. She tweets at @najiyao
source: http://www.twocircles.net / TwoCircles.net / Home> Lead Story / by Najiya O, TwoCircles.net / March 26th, 2022
