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India's lure, frozen in time and imagination

Shahid Alam dissects a new work by a Bangladeshi writer
JNDIA: Beyond the Taj and the Raj is a combination of travelogue and history of what constitutes India after it gained its independence from the British raj. Lip to a point. We will touch upon this aspect as we go along. The author, Raana Haider, partly draws upon her experiences in India where both her father and husband had been posted as diplomats, her visits to her daughter who was educated at one of the exclusive schools in that country, partly on her obviously intense interest in history, and partly on her love of travel in general. India: Beyond the Taj and the Raj follows closely on the heels of the publication of Mustafa Zaman Abbasi's Kazi Nazrul Islam: Man and Poet, both books having been sponsored by Independent University, Bangladesh (IUB).
Beyond the Taj and the Raj is a somewhat misleading subtitle because much of the book's historical content deals with matters directly, or tangentially, related to the raj. But there are other snippets of history drawn from the Mughal period, Portuguese and French presence in India, ancient India, India of rajas, maharajas, maharanas, sultans, and nawabs, as well as India since 1947. Beyond the Taj approximates its stated intent, with the Taj Mahal receiving an exclusive chapter whose total number of pages account for less than 1 percent of the 450 pages or so that make up the bulk of the book. Various places in India, prominent in their own right, are explored through varied aspects that have made them more conspicuous than others in that country'. For a number of understandable reasons, Kolkata (Haider prefers to spell it 'Calcutta', and she offers her reasons for doing so to this city and to other places which underwent name changes or spelling alterations relatively recently — 'old school' thinking, she explains) receives the most substantial treatment, but Aligarh, Lucknow, Chandigarh, Mussoorie, Kasauli, Jaipur, Udaipur, Srinagar, Shantiniketon, Meghalaya, Shillong, Bombay (as she spells it), Hyderabad, Goa, Bangalore, Somnathpur, Mysore, Madras, Mamallapuram, and Pondicherry' are also dealt with in varying degrees of spatial significance. "The Living Mughals: From Royalty to Anonymity", "Season of Sufism: Jahan-e-Khusrau", and "Sri Aurobindo Ashram and Auroville: Spiritual Retreats" provide instances of discussion on issues that take attention temporarily away from the little vignettes on cities and palaces of Haider's interest.
Besides an apparently keen eye for details during her travels, Haider takes generous recourse to the writings of other travelers, chroniclers, historians, and writers, and brochures, and relevant literature in composing her book. While she demonstrates a special place in the heart for Calcutta, she is more entranced with Delhi. One learns that a British male physician, Dr. Barton, was allowed by Emperor Shah Jahan to treat his beloved daughter Jahanara for burn-related injuries. In return for his services, itself an unusual occurrence when perceived from different aspects of society and religion prevalent then, the good doctor pleaded that the emperor grant the East India Company to trade with the Mughal Empire. He got his wish and, as Haider says, "The die was cast and the rest is history." Still on Delhi, the author draws on Ahmed Ali, a former Pakistan Foreign Service officer, who had migrated from Delhi, and who in his Twilight in Delhi, laments: "The civilization I belong to — the civilization of Delhi — came into being through the mingling of two different cultures, Hindu and Muslim. That civilization flourished for one thousand years undisturbed until certain people came along and denied that great mingling had taken place."
In "Aligarh: Aura of Academia", Haider singles out the effort of Sir Syed Ahmed Khan in goading the Muslims to move on with the changing times. Khan provides a part of his reason for doing so: "I still remember the days when in respectable families, the study of English, with the object of obtaining a post in the government service or of securing any other lucrative employment, was considered highly detestable." That anomie of the Muslims began with the downfall of the Mughals that started almost as soon as Aurangzeb had passed away, and descended to a nadir with the British taking over India and banishing in exile the last Mughal emperor, Bahadur Shah Zafar. The descendants of the Mughals during the British raj went into effective anonymity, which Haider chronicles in "The Living Mughals: From Royalty to Anonymity". The last words in her chapter on Aligarh are instructive: "...culture vultures traversed vast distances all the while — taking, giving and exchanging objects, arts and artisans."
The author comes across as a romantic, among other attributes. She is particularly drawn to hotels -- the grander and the more venerable the better it seems. Gonsider her thoughts: "I cover hotels in the course of my writings. These temporary abodes are
permanent fixtures in a particular environment. Its walls echo of times past. Such hotels reflect and capture the past and present — an aura of an age — in terms of location, architecture, decor, furnishings.... If only hotel walls could speak, who knows what captivating tales they would whisper?" Regarding the grandest hotels, "One may not necessarily stay in them. However, one must visit them — in a museum context." Hers is a paean to nostalgia expressed through experiencing reality over the years. Again, consider these lines: "Of all the hotels I have seen anywhere in the world, The Savoy in Mussoorie has to be the most eerie and ghostly.... Yet one cannot ignore the voices and events that recall a better bygone era. Here is truly a Grand Lady well past her prime whose perfume lingers on."
Haider clearly pines for the good old days of her early youth and early maturity. There is nothing wrong with that, although the generation(s) that only experienced the waning of those days, or not at all, might find that longing a bit odd. But, then, human beings' civilization is not our civilization, but our civilization is human beings' civilization. There is no doubt, though, that something good of the old often gets lost in the new, and pining for the "good old days" would not be unnatural for those who lived them. Haider also quite transparently mourns the loss, or degradation, of certain aspects of high culture and values, as she indicates in "Lucknow: City of Nawabs": "We were primarily in search of...tehzeeb the fabled Lucknow tradition of cultural refinement and breeding. The Nawabi Awadh era has long been a source of fascination for many — its mystical elegance, legendary hospitality, cuisine, culture, genteel art of living and gracious art of dressing.... Lucknow is a famed repository of past grandeur and bygone glory. The long-reaching shadow of time has left us with a city that is now in its twilight. Yet has it not been said — culture remains when all else is lost?" She quotes the aged nawab of Hyderabad speaking about the post-1947 city, almost as an added weight to her own regret at the passing of an era of elegance and high culture: "I miss the old days, not so much for the grandeur that we once enjoyed, but for the etiquette we once possessed."
Haider manages to also convey a particularly nasty bit of colonial attitude towards the Indians: "Till World War I, a notice at the (Mussoorie) Library entrance read: 'Dogs and Indians not allowed'." And, in Calcutta, the 'White Only' policy of the Saturday Club "prevailed long after independence. The first Indian president, K. Puri was appointed only in 1968." While it shows up one of the seedier aspects of the raj, it certainly does not show at least some of the Indians in their independent country' in good light! However, such instances of the citation of colonial misrule and discrimination against the Indians are few and far between. The book is replete with details about high living, noblesse oblige, and all the trappings of the grand life. And, so, the Samode palace of Jaipur "embodies the regal lifestyle of a past era.... It parallels in aesthetic and decorative ornamentation that is found in the Jaipur City Palace; complete with glittering chandeliers, carved walls and painted ceilings." Among all the razzle-dazzle, accounts of sumptuous repasts, and nostalgia for bygone days, Haider manages to slip in this profound food for thought: "Where are the writers of today? Where is the reading public today?" But there are a couple of slip-ups: she mentions "Humayun's grandson Shah Jahan", when the correct relationship should be great grandson; and this oddity: "a woman who was a 4' 10" tall giant in the global beauty business".
India: Beyond the Taj and the Raj takes one to a never-never land that one presumably would love to inhabit without sparing a thought for doing so anywhere else. But India is not a Shangri-la, not for the vast multitude of its people, many of whom have to eke out a day-to-day existence, not infrequently in the shadows of many of those very same fairytale buildings and their inhabitants. That is the India that Haider barely scratches the surface of, or even think of scratching. As one progresses through the book, one is kept waiting to find out about the hoi polloi, of those who make up much of the reality that is India. After the last word of the book has been read, that waiting becomes eternal. Raana Haider's book would be pleasant reading particularly for those who find comfort in the lifestyle of a rarefied circle, of a bygone era, of a magical land, of grace and graciousness, and of exquisite manners and mannerisms, but would be a disappointment for those seeking to learn about India, warts and all, before, during and after the raj.
SHAHID ALAM IS AN ACADEMIC, ACTOR
AND EORMER DIPLOMAT