The Last Soiree of Delhi

Think of Delhi’s social and cultural past and its rich heritage of scholars and poets, and food, come to mind. Gautam Anand invites you to Delhi’s last daawat

Text: Gautam Anand

Outside the haveli of Ummatul Fatima (whose penname was Sahabji Begum) at Hauz Qazi, and the gali, kucha and bazaar of Delhi, excitement is abuzz. Word has spread about the mushaira (poetry banquet) that is about to take place. The greatest poets of this age are about to come together, a bit like a rare astronomical alignment. This haveli, which once housed a library, has been cleared of its clutter and transformed into a magical space filled with the dazzling lights from countless candles, lamps, lanterns. Expensive woollen and silk carpets, gaotakhiyas and cushions are scattered on the spotless white chandni-covered floor.

Burnished huqqas, polished peek daan (spittoons), khaas daan (condiments) and paan daan (betel case), and above all else the almost spiritual shama (candle with chimney) await the honoured guests. The mingled scent of musk, amber and kiyora delights the senses. Best expressed by the hostess who gushed:
‘hasin jalva-rez hoñ
ada.eñ fitna-khez hoñ
hava.eñ itr-bez hoñ
to shauq kyuuñ na tez hoñ’
‘Seditious love of a variety of favourite songs poems and sonnets, splendour of trait perfumed the air, a potent combination for fast-paced epicurean desire’.

The stage is set for the last great gathering of Delhi. The date is 14th of the seventh month, the year 1845.

Whilst the aforementioned begum is a key figure, her patron and perhaps her love interest, Momin Khan Momin, is the real protagonist of this evening. Momin lived in Delhi in the first half of the 19th century. He belonged to a family of hakeems (physicians) who had migrated from Kashmir and made Delhi their home during the reign of Shah Alam II (ruled between 1760-1806). Momin’s father Hakeem Ghulam Nabi Khan was a follower of the Naqshbandi Sufi order and Shah Abdul Aziz (1746-1824) was his spiritual advisor.

It was Shah Abdul Aziz who personally recited the azaan in the newborn’ s ear and gave Hakeem Ghulam Nabi Khan’s son the name “Momin”. The young Momin was an exceptionally bright but easily distractable child. He earned his early education in Arabic and Persian at the madrasah of Shah Abdul Aziz where he received thorough grounding in Arabic and Persian. He learned the art and skill of hakimi at the feet of his father and uncles. Soon he was writing prescriptions. Momin’s sharp mind was always searching for new fields to conquer. He became interested in astrology and palmistry, dice games and chess.

The story I like most is the one about lizards. Once Momin was playing chess with his favourite pupil, Hakeem Sukh Anand Raqam, when the latter pointed to a lizard on the wall presumably to distract Momin from the game. Momin looked at the lizard and spontaneously made a prediction: This lizard will not leave until its mate arrives from the East. “How will that happen?” quipped his pupil. Shortly afterwards a cloth merchant arrived from Benares. He was accompanied by a labourer carrying a large bundle of fine silk cloth on his head. When the bundle was untied, a lizard jumped out from it and ran to the wall where the first lizard was clinging. Both lizards moved off together. Momin’s prediction was proved right.

Now Delhi, in the first half of the 19th century, sparkled with poets like Momin, and literati. Shamsur Rahman Faruqi’s novel Kai Chand the Sar-e Asman has superb details of Delhi’s socio-literary culture in this period. The great Ustad Ibrahim Khan Zauq and Mirza Asadullah Khan Ghalib were Momin’s contemporaries.

Hence, Dehli ki akhri daawat (soirée) provides an imaginative but highly realistic pen portrait of the luminous poets and scholars of Delhi’s social and cultural life.
An Example
Nazeer Ahmad ki Kahani, Kuchch Meri
Kuchch Kuchch Unki Zabani

‘Nazeer Ahmad’s story narrated partly by the protagonist and partly by him’, which was a highly acclaimed style of rendition. This style of narration that went back and forth between the author and the subject was very lively and engaging. Prose evoked the feeling of the unpretentious, idiomatic, ‘everyday speech’ and transported readers back into the era he described.

Delhi’s last soirée is an effort through a series of sketches artfully strung together through a narrative to recreate the planning and environment of a mushairah in which Delhi’s glittering poets lead by the poet-king Bahadur Shah Zafar II and his son Mirza Fakhru are portrayed.

Ustad Zauq, Ghalib, Momin, Sheftah, Sehbai etc. are described eloquently. But Momin’s portrayal is the most colourful. His description from/in Ab-e Hayat, Azad’s canonical tazkirah (biographical details of poets with samples of work) is regarded as the first ‘history of Urdu poetry’. While tazkirahs were organised alphabetically, Azad organised his tazkirah historically by dividing it into eras. Ab-e Hayat was first published in 1880.

The hero of the time, Momin was tall with a fair complexion tinged with pink with a hint of green. Big bright eyes fringed with long lashes, well-drawn eyebrows; he had a perfectly sculpted nose and lips tinted red with residue from paan. His teeth/gums were crusted with a shine, he had a slight moustache and beard. Muscular shoulders, broad chest with a slender waist; he had long fingers. His abundant hair was curly, and he wore it long in ringlets that carelessly lay on his back and shoulders and he wore long curls on both sides of his face.

He wore an angarkha of sharbati mulmul (a kind of fine handspun cloth) that was low-cut and did not wear a kurta underneath it. One could glimpse his body through the fine cloth. Around his neck he wore a black ribbon from which a golden ta’viz was suspended. A crimson dupatta was twisted and tied around his waist, its ends hanging in front.

In his hand he carried a slender back scratcher (khar pusht). He wore red gulbadan pyjamas that were loose on the top and had narrowed cuffs. On his head was do palri topi (cap with two folds). Edged with lace the topi was capacious enough to cover his head. One could glimpse his hair through the fine cloth of the topi. He was the master of the the art of the dazzle and his impeccable manner and taste reflected in his poems, style and of course his hosting skills.

At Momin’s mushairas, a variety of foods were traditionally served, ranging from simple snacks and tea to elaborate feasts. Initially, mushairas were simpler, offering tea and snacks, but as they grew in popularity, more elaborate meals became common. Dishes like Qorma Qaliya, biryanis, kebabs/naans were standard fare.

Some mushairas also feature dishes like Shahi Badam Shorba, Shammi Kebab, and rizala and Shahi Nihari. However every time the food was a class act and differentiated. On this particular occasion, however, Momin’s exceptional kitchen brigade had segmented the food and drink in three parts, thus three intermissions.

The Theme

ham-pyaala-o-ham-nivaala
This phrase emphasizes a sense of community or togetherness, specifically in the context of drinking, eating and enjoying life. The same back and forth culture that pervaded the air, had influenced the eating habits of the elite. So every morsel is followed by banter and conversations. Eating had become poetry of the palate.

The muntazim (arranger) had divided the three sets of cuisine combinations:
Khameeri roti (yeasted flatbread) and Khatai Kebab, Rizala and Chulao, Qaliya and Yakhni Pulao, Zaffran va Pista Phirni. The most advanced of the offerings was the Old Tom Gin.

Mirza Ghalib, the famed Urdu poet, was known to enjoy Old Tom Gin. He was reportedly introduced to the drink by a British person during a boat trip and found the colourless liquor amusingly named “gin”. Ghalib enjoyed it with rosewater and almonds, a combination he found particularly appealing. He became exceedingly fond of it, that the British Bonder (Phippsons) opened a wine shop in the bazaars of the walled city. He often exclaimed with a twinkle in his eye:
‘ye masa.il-e-tasavvuf, ye tira bayan ‘ghalib’
tujhe ham vali samajhte, jo na bada-khvar hota’.
In the couplet Ghalib is telling himself that the way you (Ghalib) talk of philosophy...the mystical way in which you explain it...you would have been considered a saint or God himself…If only you did not drink so much.

Protocol

A mushaira protocol typically outlines the rules and guidelines for a poetry recital event, focusing on aspects like participant eligibility, time limits, performance standards and judging criteria. It also addresses the use of appropriate language and decorum during the event.

Here’s a breakdown of common elements found in a mushaira protocol:

General Rules:

Solo event: Mushairas usually involve individual participants reciting their own verses.
Time Limit: Each participant may be given a specific time frame (e.g., 5 minutes) to present their poetry.
Originality: Participants are expected to present their own original shayari, not copied works.
Language and Decorum: The protocol emphasizes using respectful and appropriate language, and adherence to good conduct.
Disqualification: Offensive language or behaviour may lead to disqualification.
Judge’s Decision: Decisions are final.
Event Modifications: Organisers may modify the rules and regulations, if necessary, without prior notice.

Judging Criteria:

Creativity and Originality: The judges will evaluate the originality and creative expression in the recited poetry.
Linguistic Proficiency: The judges will assess the participant’s use of language and their mastery of Urdu poetry conventions.
Emotional Impact: The judges will also consider the emotional impact the poetry has on the audience.

Other Considerations:

Participant Restrictions: Some protocols might limit the number of participants from each institution or organisation.
Maintaining Audience Engagement: Mushairas can be long events, so breaks help keep the audience engaged and prevent fatigue.
Facilitating Interaction: Intervals provide opportunities for the audience to interact, discuss the poetry, and perhaps even have a quick conversation with the poets.
Providing Refreshments: During breaks, refreshments are often served, allowing the audience to enjoy some light food and drinks.
Allowing Poets to Rest: Poets might also appreciate a break to regroup and prepare for the next round of recitations.
Promoting a More Relaxed Atmosphere: Intervals can contribute to a more relaxed and convivial atmosphere.

But there is something that you and I know, something that the poets who will shortly be seated here on this stage have no inkling of. It is this shared knowledge that makes us at once privileged and poignant. For we know that there are dark clouds gathering on the not-so-distant horizon and the shadows are lengthening. We know that a way of life is about to come to an end. We know that the rebellion of 1857 shall change things irrevocably. But the poets seated here are serenely unconcerned. Tonight it matters little to them that their Badshah’s empire extends no further than the shabby grandeur of the Quila-e Moalla. Or that the British Resident is tightening his hold imperceptibly over not just Delhi but all of Hindustan. Or, for that matter, that their beloved Delhi is on the verge of being eclipsed by the far more glamorous and wealthier cities of Lucknow and Hyderabad. Tonight they have come to savour what the best and brightest among them have to offer.

For just as the candle burns brightest at dawn before being snuffed out, so did the city of Delhi just before it was ravaged by the Mutiny. And it is this city poised on the brink of disaster, its culture, its poets and above all its language, the zaban-e-Delhi, threatened by extinction that we capture in this essay and feel sufficiently close in time to attempt a fictional-historical account of what might have been the last mushaira of its kind held in Delhi.

Fact and fiction blend seamlessly in a narrative that is not only a highly entertaining account of historical personages and their distinctive literary styles but is also a valuable document of a society, its morals and manners. Our essay intends to transports us to an age when everyone – from the Mughal emperor Bahadur Shah Zafar to the poorest beggar – cherished and adored Urdu. Polished and perfected by Delhi ustads such as Mir, Sauda and Dard, it shone like burnished gold by the time of this soirée/mushaira. And like gold it could be fashioned into exquisitely delicate ghazals that could be light as gossamer yet fulsome with metaphysical import. The Mughal emperors and salatin, many of whom fancied themselves as the arbiters of good taste, often wrote tolerably good poetry themselves and organised mushairas in the Diwan-e-Aam. Later, as they became steadily more impoverished mushairas and mehfils came to be organised in different parts of the city such as Ghaziuddin Khan’s madarsah and the homes of the nobility.

This development is of not just the Urdu ghazal but the Urdu language itself. This narrative is studded with lively pen portraits of the ustads Zauq, Ghalib, Momin, Dagh, Sheftah, Azurdah as well as their shagirds who were popular figures on the mushaira circuit, such as: the French Army Captain Alexander Heatherley Azad who always came to Delhi whenever he heard of a mushaira being organised; Hakeem Sukhanad Raqam who was an ardent devotee of Momin; and the colourful Nazneen who wrote in the women’s dialect rekhti, using women’s idiom and slang and recited with great coquetry and coy playfulness wearing an odhni. The masters of rekhta would listen in stony silence as the crowd went into raptures over Nazneen’s histrionics. Then there was the mystical Tashnah who arrived at mushairas not only drunk but also completely undressed. Tonight, he will absent-mindedly snuff out the shama placed before him before reading a ghazal that carries the only portent of disaster in its refrain of the nothingness that awaits. Tashnah and Zauq will sound the only note of sadness in this assembly that is otherwise complacent in its sense of well-being. Of the 59 poets assembled under the patronage of Momin at this mushaira, I have chosen only 11, the 12th being the royal emissary who reads the Emperor’s ghazal.

A mushaira such as this would usually begin after the Isha prayer, say about 9 or 10 and go on till dawn. The patron, in this case Mirza Arif, would welcome the poets and tactfully handle the ticklish issues of seating the poets and the order in which they would be invited to recite according to a complicated system governed by etiquette, seniority and affiliation. Touchy and temperamental, the poets could take offense at the smallest misdemeanour; it could well be the daad or ovation given sparingly or too well! The readings would be interspersed with wit and repartee, both personal and poetic. Ordinarily, the patron would announce the tarah or rhyme pattern at the time of extending the invitation. Our mushaira today is be-tarah and thus free from the vexing issue that caused many squabbles to break out among rival literary camps. As you will see shortly, a lighted shama will be placed before each poet, beginning with the younger and less-known ones and ending with Zauq, the emperor’s ustad. The ustads shall lavish generous praise on their own shagird as well as genuinely talented younger poets such as Dagh but remain silent when they wish to show either disapproval or disappointment. Mirza Fakhru, the presiding poet in today’s mushaira, is not just the emperor’s son and representative and a fine poet himself but also a deeply religious man. He says the Fateha before lighting the shama. As the last poet, Ustad Zauq, is reading his qata, the call for Fajr is heard, and the mushaira ends with the assembly once again raising its hand in prayer.

‘Sham ko mushaira, dil me ehsas ki khushbu,
Avazein sheron  ki, har shaks ke labon se khushbu’
‘At the mushaira in the evening, the fragrance of feeling in the heart,
Voices of poetry, the fragrance from every person’s lips’.

Perhaps we should give the great Momin Khan Momin the last word.

‘Tum mere paas hotey ho gaya, jab koi doosra nahin hota’ – ‘You seem to be with me, when no one else is’.

The intensity of the mushairas that developed in Delhi were legendary, helping popularise Urdu as a language of poetry in the Mughal court. A culture was built around taking lessons in poetry writing; it even became fashionable for royalty to learn Urdu shayari. Bahadur Shah Zafar, the last Mughal Emperor of India, was an accomplished poet in his own right. He had a habit of setting his court difficult poetic tasks, such as the challenging art of tazmin – the adding of an extra line to the couplet so as to turn it into a three-liner without losing the sense of rhythm.

Zafar also received his own pupils for composition and helped correct their verses. The court diary records him as taking, “A khasburdar and a female – Piram Jan – as pupils in poetic composition.” From her name, Piram Jan appears to be a courtesan, and the fact that Zafar publically tutored courtesans is interesting evidence of the high social status that better courtesans enjoyed in Mughal Delhi, and the degree to which many of them were renowned for their poetic talents.

‘Kahan woh maha jabeen aur hum, kahan who wasal ki raaten,
Magar hum ne kabhi tha ek yeh bhi khwaab saa dekha,
Zafar ki sair is gulshan mein hum ne par kisi gul mein,
Na kuchh ulfat ki boo paai, na kuchh rang-e-wafa dekha’.
‘Whither I, whither my moon, and whither those nights of love
But to see such a dream had once been my fate;
Although, I (Zafar) combed the garden, I didn’t see one bloom,
Not one lively scent of love, not one streak of faith’.
– Bahadur Shah Zafar (1775-1862)