Indian history is coloured with endless stories of Hindu-Muslim conflicts, as we have seen in previous episodes. However, somewhere in the middle of it, there was a time and place when the two groups intermingled and created a culture which is known as Ganga-Jamuni Tehzeeb today.
According to K. Warikoo, Professor at the Centre for Inner Asian Studies at Jawaharlal Nehru University: Ganga-Jamuni Tehzeeb compares the Hindu-Muslim harmony and friendship to the holy confluence of India’s major rivers – the Ganga and Yamuna. It assumes a peaceful merging of Hindu and Muslim culture and lifestyle in Banaras as expressed in their friendships, joint festivities and interdependence.
Ganga-Jamuni tehzeeb, a poetic Awadhi phrase for a distinctive and syncretic Hindu-Muslim culture, is reflected in the fused spiritual connotations, forms, symbols, aesthetics, crafts and weaves. For example, Kashmiri Muslim carpet makers feature Durga in their patterns, Muslim sculptors make idols of Durga, and Hindu craftsmen create the Muharram tazia.
The Shia Nawabs, who ruled Lucknow from 1722 to 1856, were ambassadors of communal harmony. Consecutive Nawabs, through force of their character, evolved a culture which brought the Hindu and the Muslim communities together. As a result, both participated in each other’s festivals.
The fourth Nawab, Asif-ud-daulah, and the sixth, Nawab Saadat Ali Khan, and even Prince Suleman, a relative of the Emperor who had migrated to Lucknow, celebrated Holi as state festivals.
Dr Safdar Husani writes in his book Lucknow ki Tahzibi Miras, that Asif-ud-daulah spent Rs 5 lakhs in the month of Phagun, on Holi. It is said that he followed quite a few of the prevalent rituals of Holi, such as Swang, wherein dances and fireworks were organised on a grand scale. A contemporary poet, Mirza Quateel, says in his book Haft Tamasha that on Holi, a fancy dress show would be organised, in which women of the palace enacted the role of Mughal men, greengrocers, recluses, and English-spouting Europeans. At times they mimicked a tiger’s roar, as they chased after men.
According to Dr Mohammad Umar’s renowned work, Hindustani Tahzib ka Mussalmano Pe Asar, Muslims also celebrated Diwali. Many people indulged in gambling and almost everyone lit earthen lamps and bought sugar toys. Not doing so was considered inauspicious.
In this liberal religious social setup, Hindus too responded with zeal. A good number of them observed Muharram and built Imambaras. Raja Tikait Rai, Raja Mehra and Raja Mewa Ram constructed Imambaras at different places. A Hindu officer, Jhau Lal, built an impressive Imambara in Nawabganj locality.
In those days, Tazia-Dars (keepers of Tazia) could be from any community. Among the Hindu Tazia-Dars, some wore turbans and a tapka (a cloth belt). They did not participate in the recitation of Nauhas (mourning songs or verse) or breast-beating, but would join in the Persian chants.
Once a year, Nawab Wajid Ali Shah organised a play at Kaiserbagh, where he would play the role of Lord Krishna; the women of his palace and Pari Khana played the role of the gopis. The play was inspired by the traditional romantic play, Hindu Rahasya, and was called Indersabha.
At times, the king enacted the role of a Hindu Sadhu. The role required him to cover his entire body with ash, to convey detachment from the world, so the king had a special kind of ash prepared — from burning pearls. Even the make-belief asceticism of the king betrayed the Nawabi opulence!
The plays were occasions for gaiety and merriment. Even the commoners were welcome, and age was no bar. There was, however, one interesting condition: everyone coming to participate in the fair had to dress in ochre only — a colour that is associated with the Hindu religion. The dress code added to the sense of revelry: men dressed up in the spirit of the plays they had come to watch.
When the last king of Awadh, Wajid Ali Shah, having lost his kingdom to the East India Company, left for Calcutta to plead his case with the Governor-General in 1856, hardly anyone, including the king himself, realised that he would create a new township in Calcutta on the lines of Lucknow and its culture.
After a long-drawn legal battle, the king resigned himself to his fate. He accepted the annual pension of Rs 12 lakhs and a large piece of land allotted to him in exchange of his sovereignty.
About three to four miles to the south of Calcutta, there was a sleepy hamlet called Garden Rudge; because of a large mound of earth there, it was popularly known as Matia Burj (meaning mound of earth, in the local dialect). Situated on the bank of the Hoogly river, its total area was about six to seven miles, and it included a few palatial buildings. It was this land and buildings which were given to Wajid Ali Shah and his staff ro live. Wajid Ali named the two main buildings into which he shifted Sultankhana and Aasud Manzil; he named a third one given to him Murssa Manzil.
Life in the township was like being in Lucknow itself: the residents spoke the same chaste Urdu; there were the same gatherings of singers and poets; mujras, dances, kite-flying and cock-fighting contests were organised. Even the opium addicts were to be found all around. In fact, the entire tangible and intangible culture was so much like Lucknow’s, it was hard to believe that one was, in fact, hundreds of miles away from it, in Bengal.
Like every good thing, this too came to an end. Wajid Ali Shah died in 1887, and, between the rivalry among relatives to succeed the king and a lack of funds, everything that Wajid Ali Shah had built, collapsed. Like an illusion, everything was over.
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The above excerpts are taken from Ravi Bhatt’s book The Life and Times of the Nawabs of Lucknow.
Kalampedia 