When Muslim poets celebrated Hindu festivals

There have been times and moments in our history when men of letters have marked their excellence through extraordinary ways of doing things such as production of fascinating Urdu poetry celebrating Hindu festivals of Dussehra, Diwali, Basant and Holi in a language that captured the best of the festive emotions. Urdu poet Nazir Akbarabadi (1735-1830), who was born and grew up in Delhi, but flourished in Agra-Mathura region, was one such multifaceted personality who rose above narrow religious and sectarian boundaries to compose a large number of works in different genres of poetry. His voluminous Kulliyaat or Collected Works, published among others by the classic Nawal Kishore press of Lucknow, offers significant light on the celebration of little pleasures of life—fairs, festivals, fresh burst of energy with the season changing for the better, natural bounties such as juicy summer fruits, some little love as well as chance or opportunity to interact with women in a regressive society, besides other possibilities.

Nazir Akbarabadi wrote at registers ranging from popular or subaltern level to high poetry of love of the fine ghazal variety. Nazir’s celebration of life is best reflected in his poems on festivals, especially Hindu festive occasions such as auspicious Diwali and Holi. These poems also reveal the poet’s narrativisation of Hindu beliefs and traditions associated with mythological figures on a scale meant to highlight the excellence of their character and widespread devotion around them as a matter of celebration. Poems such as the one on the birth of Lord Krishna ( Janam Kanahaiyaji), the celebration of his brother in Baldevji Ka Mela and on Goddess Durga ( Durgaji Ke Darshan) also offer fascinating details from popular Hindu legends.

The poems on Diwali reveal not only markets buzzing in preparation, with earthen lamps illuminated everywhere, but also some people going for the broke in the widespread practice of gambling on the occasion. For the pious and the innocent, the poet would announce that the lamps were lighted in all the houses and sweetshops were attracting customers: Har ek makan mein jala phir diya Diwali ka Har ek taraf ko ujala hua Diwali ka Mithaiyon ki dukanen laga ke halwai Pukarte hain ke lala Diwali hai aayi.

On the other hand, the sinner is hell-bent on losing not only his house, but also his wife in Diwali-eve gambling with all of her jewellery almost gone. The woman is abused as a loose character and threatened: Woh uske jhonte pakad kar kahe hay marunga Tera jo gahna hai sab taar taar utarunga Haweli apni tow ek dao par mayen harunga Yeh sab tow hara hun khandi tujhe bhi harunga

The poet also reminds the devout that though Dussehra is celebrated with much gaiety, but Diwali is a much more auspicious festival: Hai Dussehre mein bhi yun go farhat-o zinat nazir Par Diwali bhi ajab pakizatar tehwaar hai

The endless possibility of dangerous fun is especially narrated by the poet in several compositions on Holi, when the participants are physically charged for amorous advances, taking advantage of the refrain later pronounced in Hindi, bura na mano Holi hai! Here is a polite sample of musical instruments used to announce the arrival of Holi playing groups and friends and lovers gleefully showering each other with colourful gestures: Mridange baajen taal baje kuchh khanak khanak kuchh dhanak dhanak Jab khubaan aaye rang bhare phir kya kya Holi jhamak uthi Kuchh husn ki jhamken naaz bharen kuchh shokhi naaz adaaon ki Sab chaahne wale gird khade nazara karte hansi khushi Mahbub bhigoyen aashiq ko aur aashiq hanskar unko bhi

And, some compositions are truly meant to fit straight into classical Hindustani music capturing the pleasant mood of the festive season: Jab phagun rang jhamakte hon tab dekh baharen Holi ki Aur daf ke shor khadkate hon tab dekh baharen Holi ki Much of it was possible also because Nazir Akbarabadi grew up in Delhi at a time of cultural efflorescence actively promoted by later Mughal emperors, especially Muhammad Shah (17191748), nick-named Rangila, the colourful, even as political power and authority was being continuously shaken by Afghan invaders from the North-West. Within the circle of eminent Urdu poets, Nazir’s life and career overlapped between two stalwarts—Mir Taqi Mir (1722-1810) and Mirza Ghalib (1797-1869)—with fruitful interactions. Together they excelled in their literary practice, which was central to their lives, in their own distinct ways. Nazir is often not counted in the history of classical Urdu literature because of the way he catered to the popular tastes in compositions of the kind given above as samples. His celebration of Hindu religious practices, traditions, myths and legends need serious consideration especially in times when Hindi/ Urdu and Hindu/Muslim divide and conflict serve as fodder for those who thrive on religious communalism. Madan Lal Khurana was perhaps the last leader from the national capital with a mass appeal running across party lines. In fact his popularity was clearly evident at both his funeral last week and the prayer meeting that followed in his home constituency of Kirti Nagar. There were leaders from all major parties who attended his last rites and paid either a floral homage or a silent tribute to a man, who in his own words was the priest in an imposing temple, which in his mind symbolised Delhi.

Having covered the city from extremely close quarters during a sizable part of my journalistic career, Khurana would always be remembered for his deep commitment to the people of the metropolis and can readily be regarded as the finest Chief Minister Delhi ever had. His tenure was rather short—a little over two years—but his contribution was immense. The Delhi Metro, the flyover projects, particularly at the AIIMS crossing, and Dhaula Kuan intersection and scores of other measures were initiated by him. He would have achieved much more had his party stood by him and brought him back as Chief Minister.

After Chaudhary Brahm Prakash, Delhi’s first Chief Minister, and H.K.L. Bhagat, the uncrowned king of the capital, Khurana was a phenomenal leader. He won ten out of the eleven elections he contested, and the only one he lost was to Jagdish Tytler from Delhi Sadar in 1984, in the aftermath of Indira Gandhi’s assassination. As a young reporter with the Times of India I have a very vivid recollection of the counting of votes that was in progress at the Ludlow Castle government school. The process had just commenced, and I witnessed Khurana emerging out of the counting centre, with quiet dignity conceding defeat. Perplexed as to why he was doing so, when he was ahead by 1,500 votes from his Kirti Nagar segment, he knowingly smiled stating, without batting an eyelid, that if he was winning by merely 1,500 votes instead of 15,000 votes from his home turf, how he could expect to win from the remaining four metropolitan constituencies. Such was his grasp over grassroots politics.

There are several indelible memories that remain with me of him as Delhi’s premier leader. In February 1996, he had relinquished office as the Chief Minister to express solidarity with L.K. Advani, whose name figured prominently in the Jain hawala diaries, and who also resigned from his positions in the BJP. The then Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh stalwart, Rajinder Singh alias Rajju Bhaiya, had explicitly told Khurana not to vacate but he was determined to do so since he had the highest respect for both Advani and Atal Bihari Vajpayee. His first betrayal was on 9 October 1998, when after promising to bring him back as the Chief Minister, the two leaders went back on their word and installed Sushma Swaraj in the coveted position. Needless to say, the breach of faith left him devastated.

Khurana was the architect of the BJP in Delhi, in the same manner as Advani built the party all over India. There was not a single day when he would not hold a press conference at his favourite restaurant, Volga in Connaught Place, to levy charges of incompetence, corruption or wrongdoing against the ruling Congress. This did not purport that he had a personal grouse against any Congress leader, but it was a political battle that had to be fought on the turf provided to him.

Bhagat and Khurana were rivals in the field, but one of my most memorable recollections pertains to the both of them: Bhagat was on his death bed in the Apollo hospital, and when I met Khurana at the Meridien Hotel at Windsor Place, I happened to mention it to him. Aware that I had very close relations with Bhagat as well, he expressed his desire to visit him. I called up Bhagat’s son, Deepak, a schoolmate of Arun Jaitley and asked him when the right time to visit him would be.

Khurana and I went to the hospital, and after meeting Bhagat’s wife, we were led into his room. Bhagat, who was also suffering from memory lapses, immediately recognised both of us. He greeted Khurana by whispering his name and in a gesture of blessing placed his hand over his head. He also acknowledged my presence by beatifically smiling at me. By this time, Khurana had tears streaming down his cheeks.

Khurana also shared an extraordinary good chemistry with Ramvir Singh Bidhuri, a perceptive leader from the city, whose role has never been highlighted as much as it should have been, given his contribution in ending Bhagat’s supremacy over the capital. In 2003, when Bidhuri was contesting on the clock symbol from Badarpur, Khurana asked him to come to his house in Kirti Nagar. Khurana was the BJP CM nominee and when a reluctant Bidhuri finally met him, he handed over some money to him that he had received from a donor. He told Bidhuri that this was a contribution towards his election. Bidhuri was speechless. He understood that this was Khurana’s way of extending a helping hand in his hour of need.

In his passing away, the city has lost one of its favourite sons. For the last six years, he had been in a coma and recently lost his eldest son, Vimal, oblivious of his tragic death. Khurana will always remain synonymous with Delhi. Between us.