‘Zilla Jaunpur, City Banaras’: Siraj-E-Dil Jaunpur
I begin this review of Siraj-E-Dil Jaunpur (SEDJ) with two confessions . The first is that I did not choose to read it – I had to, because of the last-minute indisposition of the author we had planned for our online ‘Afternoons with an Author’ session on the 25th August. The second is that this is my first review of a book in Hindi/Hindustani. The closest I have done is a long essay on the translations of the writings of Ismat Chughtai for a literature festival, way back in 2015.
To start with, I want to thank Amit Srivastava for graciously agreeing to step in at the last minute, and sending me a copy of his book two days before the session. Siraj-E-Dil Jaunpur turned out to be a real gem. I thought I will read a few pages—just enough to be able to make the opening remarks as the chair of the session, but each of the twenty six chapters in the book was gripping, in terms of the diverse themes – archaeological excavations from Before Common Era, the Sun, and later Shiva worshipping Ahir and Yadav dynasties, the advent of Islam through Tughlaq and his ‘eunuch’ successors, many of whom traced their roots to Persia and Arab lands, its strategic significance as the gateway to Bengal besides the proximity to Banaras, the emergence of a Jaunpuri identity, the recruitment of Jaunpuris as mercenaries in all the armies – from the Nawabs of Bengal to the EIC, the migration of entire families as indentured labour to the British colonies, and so much more. We learn of the nascent steps to develop Jaunpur as the manufacturing hub of paper, carpets and textiles, and the later day pauperization of the peasantry. We learn of Jaunpur's fascinating ‘saawan’ – for which autumn is not an apt translation – and of the bridge over Gomti. Legend has it that the wails of an old lady prompted Badshah Akbar to order the construction of a bridge which then became an important landmark with shops and establishments on both ends catering to a wide variety of establishments and food joints.
But how did the name Jaunpur come to be? In tune with the divisive polemic on most contemporary issues – we have an etymological binary – with one group claiming that the name comes from Yavendrapuram (the land of Yadavas) which in popular lingo became Yavanpur, and then Jaunpur, and the other attributing it to Firoz Shah Tughlaq’s brother Mohammad Tughlaq who in the days of his boyhood was called Juna Khan. The point to note is that whatever be the origin theory, ‘Zilla Jaunpur City Banaras’ is now the name with which Jaunpuris identify themselves.
Do we have a choice with regard to our identity? We cannot decide where we will be born, though in our later lives we can choose our localities and our cities. Sometimes, we have the option of living in habitations we wish to, and with people of our own choosing. Defence Colony makes it obvious that the residents are all serving or superannuated officers of Army, Airforce and the Navy. Likewise, we have the Press colony for journos, Medical enclave for doctors, Niti Bagh for judicial officers and lawyers, Kautilya Marg for bureaucrats, and so forth. But, asks Amit, “Why would a place be called ‘Jhagarpuri’ in Gadarpur block of Bajpur subdivision of Udham Singh Nagar?” He goes on to say “While there is an explanation for Udham Singh Nagar – it was named to honour the revolutionary who avenged the Jallianwala Bagh massacre on the Baisakhi day of 1919 by shooting the then Governor of Punjab, Michael O Dwyer in London twenty-one years later, Bajpur could probably claim a connect with the legendary Baz Bahadur and Gadarpur to the party founded by Hardayal and Sohan Singh Bakahana, but what about Jhagarpuri? Why has this particular hamlet not decided to give itself a new name – like so many other towns and cities have done – especially in the past decade”.
The best part about SEDJ is that while Jaunpur appears in all the chapters, they do not have to be read sequentially. Each one is a story in and by itself. Given the ‘space’ constraints, let me share my comments on some of them.
Pulwala Pagla is a long poem – an ode to the life and death of an otherworldly man, a permanent fixture on the bridge. For Srivastava, he is the beholder of so many secrets of women and men and institutions on both sides of the bridge, described by Rudyard Kipling in his poem ‘Akbar’s Bridge’:
I, Jalaludin Muhammed Akbar, Guardian of mankind – Bid thee build the hag her bridge, and put our mosque from out thy mind’
‘All that is pink is not rose’, is an anecdote about the abundant confusion between lookalike ‘besan’ and ‘custard powder’ – for like their names, they represent two very different culinary traditions – cake goes with custard just as Jalebi with Pakora, but Pakoras and custard are a gastronomic disaster!
Ek bhula di gayi lipi is about Kaithi – which lost out to Devanagari for a variety of reasons: foremost among them being the 1882 Hunter Commission Report which decreed that Urdu will be the language of Muslims, and Hindi in Devnagari that of the Hindus. According to Srivastava, as a script, Kaithi could have emerged as the common lingua franca for the sub-continent, but that was not the intent of the Raj – they promoted English in the judiciary at all levels and Urdu and Hindi in Devnagari for revenue, education and sub district administration. Amit laments the fact that he did not pick the language of his forefathers, and even though he has preserved the parchments with their words written year after year after the annual ‘Kalam-Dawaat’ puja. He recalls his father telling him that their ancestors had been scribes in the courts of Jaunpur – but over three generations the language was lost. The same holds true for Lande – a script used by the Khatri and Multani traders of Punjab, Sindh and Multan on the Silk route.
The essence of the book is best captured in the first four lines in thirteenth of the sixteen entries in the signature prose poem Siraj-E-Dil Jaunpur:
‘There is a sense of deep remorse about this place Jaunpur. when I sleep it does not appear in my dreams. but, often I see it in the eyes of a forlorn child who sits in an empty terrace looking at those lingering rays of an afternoon sun ... and I am lost’
But reading this book will help you discover Jaunpur – not in the manner and style of district gazetteers or a Wikipedia page or a Plan document. Here is a Jaunpuri talking to the city and its streets, its people, its legends, its mysteries and of course its famous Tilak Library – to which the book is dedicated .
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