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Hindustan Times
2 days ago
- Politics
- Hindustan Times
Landmarks of freedom struggle face monumental neglect in Lucknow
The rich history of Lucknow contains a treasure trove of incidents and memories associated with the Independence movement but major sites connected with the freedom struggle in the city present a picture of neglect, so much so that many of them do not even have proper plaques to mark their presence. The Rifa-e-Aam club in Lucknow. (Mushtaq Ali/HT) While some of these structures were razed during colonial rule with only their ruins remaining today, a few were converted into government offices after Independence. Some are protected while the rest are in a pitiful state and continue to face the onslaught of time, waiting for attention from the authorities. The Rifa-e-Aam club in Wazirganj is one such site. One would have to look thrice to find the weathered structure standing tall behind temporary shops run by several carpenters. At the entrance, there are a number of old doors behind shops and there is a pool of stagnant water at the location. The structure, which once witnessed a meeting of Annie Besant's Home Rule League and the first convention of the Progressive Writers' Association chaired by Munshi Premchand, has lost all its doors and windows. Dastango Himanshu Bajpai said, 'The Home Rule League and Progressive Writers' Association both played an important role in the freedom struggle but the Rifa-e-Aam club continues to be in a sorry state. However, there is a misconception among people that the Lucknow Pact was signed at the club. But as per the proceedings of the joint session of Indian National Congress and the Muslim League, it was signed in Qaiserbagh.' The Jhandewala Park in Aminabad was the epicentre of major political activities during the freedom struggle and hosted most of the prominent politicians of that time. Today, it lies in neglect. It would take at least 10 minutes for someone who does not frequently visit Aminabad to figure out where entry gates to the park are. It is encroached on all four sides with garment vendors at its periphery. It is also littered inside. 'It was at Jhandewala Park that Gulab Lodhi, a freedom fighter from Unnao, was shot dead in 1935 for defying the government's order by climbing a tree with a flag. It also witnessed speeches from prominent individuals, including Subhas Chandra Bose,' said former head of the modern history department, Lucknow University, Prof Aroop Chakravarti. The condition of Neil Gate, also known as Sher Darwaza, is no better. The first glance reveals posters of office bearers and runner-ups in the Central Bar Association election. Several vehicles are parked across the gate. A board that has tilted after facing several collisions from vehicles parked everyday around it says 'Centrally Protected Monument' Neil Gate. 'The (Sher) Darwaza or gateway got its name from the statues of a pair of lions installed on top. General Neil, who was leading the colonial forces outside the Residency, was surrounded and killed behind the gateway by the Indian forces led by Mahmood Mirza. With this, Mirza, who was also an officer of the Royal Army of the Nawabs, avenged the death of his son Agha Mirza Kambhalposh, who was hanged by the English forces,' said historian Roshan Taqui. Alambagh Darwaza stood witness to how Indian soldiers prevented the colonial troops from entering the city from November 1857 to March 1858. Today, it is also encroached and vehicles are parked around it. Many buildings in Alambagh were destroyed by the British after the battle, but the Alambagh Darwaza still stands tall. According to historians, it was also called Phansi ka Darwaza for a long time as several rebels were hanged at Alambagh Darwaza. The Qaiserbagh complex (a witness to the siege of 1857) is an example where the structure might be absent but stories of its association with the freedom struggle live on. The Tarowali Kothi was used as the headquarters by Maulvi Ahmmadullah Shah and other leaders of the masses to plan a rebellion against the British rulers. Now, it has no trace of even a plaque outside the building, which is currently the headquarters of State Bank of India in Lucknow. However, the ruins of the Residency, which the Indian forces captured after the Battle of Chinhat during the First War of Independence following an 87-day siege from July to November 1857, have been conserved and restored by the Archeological Survey of India. 'Experts among the Indian forces had dug up several mines from outside the Residency to the buildings inside. Soldiers used these mines to carry out attacks through explosives,' said historian and author Roshan Taqui. Despite attempts to rescue those trapped inside, the siege ended in defeat for the British forces and the death of over 2,000 people, including Henry Lawrence. When one enters the GPO, a cenotaph near the Mahatma Gandhi statue narrates the history of the court proceedings and the death sentence awarded to revolutionary freedom fighters associated with the Kakori Train Action plan. The Rumi Darwaza has also been restored and conserved by ASI. It was at Rumi Darwaza that the British hanged Agha Mirza Kambalposh, the son of Mahmood Mirza, an officer in the Nawab's Royal army, because Kambhalposh and his companions had attacked the force led by Captain Ommanney before the start of the First War of Independence. Musa Bagh, where the Indian forces had put up a brave front but were defeated during the 1857 war, is also undergoing restoration. Begum Hazrat Mahal and her son Birjis Qadar, who was on the throne, left for Nepal. Maulvi Shah killed a couple of British officers and escaped, but was betrayed by the king of Payawan (Shahjahanpur) and beheaded, said historian Roshan Taqui. The Dilkusha garden and Kothi saw a major battle between the Indian and colonial forces in November 1857 where Indian forces lost because they were heavily outnumbered, according to Subhash Kushwaha, a historian and author. Only a few towers and external walls of the Kothi were left after the battle. They are currently in a satisfactory state. Charbagh, a witness to the arrival of several freedom fighters, continues to stand tall though a board about Gandhi and Nehru's meeting is not very visible due to encroachment. Experts suggest there should be bigger boards, which can grab the attention of passers by narrating stories related to various incidents associated with freedom struggle. In the 20th century, Charbagh became a staging ground for the nationalistic forces, said Devesh Pandey, LU research scholar who has researched the role of Charbagh in the freedom struggle, 'Two prominent leaders of the Indian national movement, Mahatma Gandhi and Jawaharlal Nehru, first met at the Charbagh station in December 1916, when they came to attend the Congress session in Lucknow. When Lokmanya Tilak arrived by a special train to participate in this session, massive crowds swelled at the station to get his glimpse,' Pandey said. It was at the Lucknow station that freedom fighter Ramprasad Bismil saw how the iron boxes containing government funds were taken out unchained, he said. This gave him the confidence to carry out the Kakori Train Action to fund revolutionary activities. 'During the protests against the Simon Commission in 1928, Charbagh had become an important congregation ground for the protestors. In these protests, Dalit members of the Adi Hindu Samaj also raised their voice for securing their community's legitimate demands. The high point was reached during the Quit India Movement of 1942 which generated intense political activity in Lucknow,' Pandey added. Similarly, the Farangi Mahal lacks any cenotaph or plaque at the main entrance about its contribution to the freedom struggle. 'The main figure of the institute, Maulana Abdul Bari, collected grants from Muslims from across the country for the independence struggle and even invited Gandhi quite a few times. The visits of Gandhi to Farangi Mahal helped ease the Hindi-Muslim riots at that time and played a role in decreasing animosity between communities. Other prominent figures, including Jawaharlal Nehru, Sarojini Naidu and Abdul Kalam Azad, also visited it at various times. I have asked the Islamic Centre of India to add a cenotaph related to the contribution of Farangi Mahal outside the main gate,' said Imam Eidgah Maulana Khalid Rasheed Farangi Mahali.
Mint
09-08-2025
- Entertainment
- Mint
Is Urdu the language of Indian Muslims alone, asks Rakshanda Jalil
Urdu scholar and translator Rakshanda Jalil's new collection Whose Urdu is it Anyway? is linked by one theme: to challenge the notion that Urdu is the language of Muslim writers alone, especially in a pluralist country like India. She brings together 16 stories by non-Muslim writers who wrote in Urdu, most of whom were born in the early years of the 20th century, and achieved varying degrees of fame during their lifetimes. From Krishan Chandar (1914-77), one of the key figures of the Progressive Writers' Association, to the much-loved Gulzar (b. 1934), the volume features a range of styles and sensibilities to illustrate a powerful sentiment: '...as long as Urdu is yoked to religion—Islam—and a certain community–Muslims—it will never be understood in its entirety," Jalil writes in the introduction. Urdu, along with its spoken variant Hindustani, was ubiquitous in public life once upon a time, especially all over the north of the Vindhyas. In the south, it still survives in the form of Dakhini, but in the last decade, the language is less visible and heard in the public domain. The written form of the language is no longer ubiquitous on signages, cinema titles and names of railway stations. Instead, Urdu has become politicised and framed as a language of appeasement. Jalil's selection defies the Islamic exclusivity of Urdu. While a substantial body of fiction written in the language deals with Partition and its aftermath, writers like Devendar Issar, in his story Mortuary, and Surendra Prakash in Scarecrow focus on the plight of the poor and downtrodden. Renu Behl's Draupadi Has Woken Up is a sharp indictment of female foeticide in Punjab, while Deepak Budki's The Rape of an Abandoned House is a story of loot (most likely in the aftermath of a communal riot) that is at once original and disturbing. By bringing attention to famous and less-known writers, Jalil shows that Urdu 'belongs to whoever is willing to embrace it and in their capable hands, willing to be moulded like pliable clay." Edited excerpts from an interview: What were some of the surprising or unexpected insights you discovered while researching this book? That Urdu fiction is a faithful mirror of a writer's times and draws from their milieu and circumstance. And that it steadfastly refuses to follow a formula, hence the output is so far removed from the stereotypical understanding of Urdu writers and by extension Urdu writings. Tell us about your thoughts behind the selection. Why these authors and stories? All collections are, by their very nature, selective. I make no claim to be objective nor do I claim to be comprehensive. There are many non-Muslim Urdu writers I have perforce not been able to include. I wish I had the space to include Fikr Taunsvi (whose real name was Ram Lal Bhatia), Kashmiri Lal Zakir, Zafar Payami (Diwan Birender Nath), Shamsher Singh Narula, Prakash Pandit, Balraj Menra, Balwant Singh, and several others. By the same token, I have omitted some of the best-known names of Urdu literature: Premchand, Upendranath Ashk and Ram Lal. None of these omissions are oversights; mindful of the immense variety before me, I have had to exercise editorial discretion and choose stories that pique the interest of modern readers. I wanted to present as comprehensive a range of concerns, topics and voices as possible. Urdu is often perceived as a florid language due to its usage in poetry. But prose fiction and non-fiction in Urdu seem to have a spare, modernist style. Can you talk about these two faces of the language? Yes. Urdu poetry and prose are like apples and oranges, though it is also true that Urdu prose can occasionally be very poetic and there is some excellent 'prose poetry" being written by modern poets. But as I have said, much of modern Urdu short fiction draws from its time and circumstance, hence it is spare, spartan, sometimes staccato, given the circumstances. A dialogue between present-day characters cannot be in florid Urdu; that would take away from the realness that the modern Urdu writers are at pains to create. Renu Behl's characters in rural Punjab cannot speak in courtly Lucknowi Urdu; it would be absurd. Similarly, Krishan Chandar's footpath dwellers cannot speak in the same tone and tenor as Kanhailal Kapur's husband and wife—even though both writers are from Bombay. Were there specific challenges involved in translating the texts? I didn't want to flatten out the variations I found in the original Urdu into standard 21st-century English. I wanted to retain as much of the cadence of the original stories (as possible). For that I had to remain mindful of the context: Who is speaking? Are they rural or urban characters? Educated or illiterate? Are there any stylistic or cultural differences in the way in which Muslim and Hindu writers use the language? Not in the early years, no. I think both were well aware of the cultural contexts of the 'other", which explains why Muslim writers have written with so much authenticity about, say, Navratri celebration or about festivals such as Holi, Diwali, Shivratri, and so on. And it was the same with non-Muslim writers writing about Muslim festivals and religious figures; Premchand's Karbala and Eidgah instantly spring to mind. Among women writers, I can see a difference but to be fair, my sample size is very small: Sarla Devi's language is very different from all the other writers included here and yes it is different from an Ismat Chughtai or a Khadija Mastoor. I would like to know more about Sarla Devi. I must confess I had to look very hard to find a non-Muslim woman Urdu writer. Knowing full well that boys in non-Muslim families were taught Urdu and Persian whereas the girls were mostly taught Hindi, I was still hoping to find at least a few names who might have bucked the trend and proved to be in the same league as a Chughtai or a Hajra Masroor or any of the other male writers in this collection; regrettably, it took a great deal of diligent digging to find a lone Sarla Devi. Having found her, I was hard pressed to make a choice from her work spread across two collections of short fiction and numerous stories scattered in the literary magazines of her time, some even edited by her, such as Shahrah, along with Prakash Pandit. She was the sister of Krishan Chandar and Mahendar Nath, and wife of the Hindi writer Rewti Saran. While the Hindi-Urdu binary is much spoken these days, does Hindustani survive in contemporary literature, if at all? If a language is defined by vocabulary then yes there is a huge difference between the writers who have been active in the past 50 years than those who were active in the post-Partition years. The writings of Devender Issar, Surendra Prakash, Deepak Budki, Balraj Komal are very close to the spoken language. So the question we need to ask is: Are languages differentiated by script, grammar or vocabulary? What are the most promising current efforts—institutional or grassroots—to reclaim Urdu as a shared cultural heritage in India today? The single most promising thing in our times is content-driven programming. When it is intelligently done, it can truly open a window into a shared literary culture and sensibility. You may or may not know the script, you may not have read a lot in translation either but if you are willing to sit and listen to good literature being read or recited and allow yourself to be transported into another world, you can truly soar above the picket fences of language politics devised by petty minds.
