Murray's Taj Mahal and the death of an empire

With the advent of photography in the 1800's, armchair travellers in Europe could, for the first time, get a true picture of destinations they had only dreamt about. Monuments from the far-flung corners of the British Empire came alive through the work of many talented photographers. 

Dr. John Murray, employed in the medical service of the Army of the East India Company, took up photography in the early 1850s.

Unlike other photographers who depicted the symmetric perfection of the Taj, Murray's photos described the actual context of the Taj. In this photo, the Taj appears as a backdrop to ruins. There's a crumbling parapet above the Yamuna River, and the men sitting are completely ignoring this beautiful monument. The photo, clicked just after the Sepoy Mutiny of 1857, speaks to me about the death of the Mughal empire.

Photo credit the Met Museum http://www.metmuseum.org/. 

Here is another photo,  this one is smaller, but it shows Dr. Murray seated in the foreground. It calls out to the photographer and artist in me :) I want to be that person, sitting with my back to the ruins, and sketching what I see!

http://www.clarkart.edu/Art-Pieces/2617

At a time when photographic emulsions were not equally sensitive to all colors of the spectrum, most photographers found it impossible to achieve proper exposure of both landscape and sky in a single picture. For instance, if the negative was properly exposed for buildings, the sky would often appear faded and blotchy. 

Murray solved this problem by blacking out the sky on his waxed paper negative so that, when printed, the heavens above the Taj Mahal would appear limpid and radiant. Here is the paper negative itself; you can see the technique here:

http://www.clarkart.edu/Collection/7354

Text adapted and modified from: http://www.metmuseum.org/collection/the-collection-online/search/283162

Textile tour in Delhi

Last month we had a very interesting textile workshop in Delhi, for a group of visitors from the USA. We visited the home of one of my friends, who is a textile designer. 

The tour began with an audio-visual presentation, an introduction to Indian textiles. We explained many different types of weaves, embroideries and printing traditions to the guests. They also tried their hand at draping a saree. A lovely evening, great conversation, and delightful snacks. Here are a couple more photos from the tour. I'm looking forward to more of these tours in future!

A hand-painted signboard in Old Delhi

I enjoy seeing hand-painted boards, even when they are not particularly artistic. The higgedly-piggedly defects seem delightful, compared to the stencilled perfection of computerised graphics. This one is from near the Jama Masjid, describing the municipal corporation's school for girls.

Photo credit: Thomas Hart, who travelled with us last year

Like all official signboards, it is in four languages, English, Hindi, Punjabi and Urdu. And, it is also in four different scripts: Hindi is written in the Devnagri script, English using the Roman alphabet, Punjabi in the Gurmukhi script and Urdu in a modified form of the Persian nastaliq script. No painter of signs can be expected to know all of these :) So obviously the man who painted this was only blindly copying squiggly signs. 

My daughter wrote an article about the multi-lingual signboards of Delhi, and the history behind them. It's a very interesting story. Here is the link: http://delhimagic.blogspot.in/2013/04/signboards-in-delhi-language-debates-in.html

The Delhi Durbar, 1911 - without mincing words

They say a picture speaks more than a thousand words. This one sure does!

This illustration is from the famous Punch Magazine, and it was published during the Delhi Coronation Durbar of 1911. 

It shows a beautiful woman - representing India - saluting the British king George V, who came to India with Queen Mary for a grand coronation as Emperor of India. 

All the so called "princely states" came to pay their respects at the Durbar, and Punch gave us a visceral look at it.

The inherent contempt of the British for the Indian "native" is visible in the depiction of the salute: it is uncultured, the fingers are splayed in a laughable bungling rustic way that invites the viewer's scorn. 

The woman is dripping with jewels, but her feet are unshod, she as submissive and inferior as can be. Contrast this with the king's polished knee-length leather boots. You can also see how George V has been represented with the usual crown jewels - the Sovereign's Orb, which shows him as the Defender of the Faith and the Sceptre with the Cross. No doubt he was doing God's will, eh.

A fine depiction indeed, of the times. A nation brought to heel.

Photo credit: Punch

Subz Burj v/s Nila Gumbad - no they are not the same!

Here's the beautiful Subz-Burj, at the intersection of Mathura Road and Lodhi Road. Subz means Green in Arabic, Burj means Tower.  The tiles on top of the tower suppposedly used to be green, but were replaced by blue tiles during restoration by ASI in the 80's (or at least that's what I am told). Subz Burj is a tomb. No one knows who's buried in it.

Because of the colour of the roof tiles, there's an unfortunate tendency to mix up Subz Burj (Green Tower) with Nila Gumbad (Blue Dome), which is the name of an entirely different monument near Humayun's Tomb.

Nila Gumbad in foreground. Humayun's Tomb is to the top left. Nai ka Gumbad is in between.
Photo from Archnet: Link here

Nila Gumbad is also supposed to be a tomb. The ASI says it's the earliest Mughal tomb in India, and reflects an architectural style without any Indian influences. It is believed to contain the remains of a man called Miyan Fahim Khan. He was the attendant/servant of the poet Rahim (Abdur Rahim Khan-i-Khana). What this attendant did to deserve burial in such a grand tomb, I don't know. To top that, there is no structure inside the tomb, no sarcophagus to show that someone is buried there.

Here's a map showing where Subz Burj is, with respect to Humayun's Tomb and Nila Gumbad:

Humayun's Tomb was listed under the UNESCO World Heritage list in 1992. This month the listing was expanded to list several other tombs and complexes in the vicinity of Humayun's Tomb, thereby doubling the area under the heritage list. While Nila Gumbad is now included in the list, Subz Burj is now in the buffer zone.

So - to summarise the differences:
Subz Burj - Originally green and now blue; Nila Gumbad - Always has been blue
Subz Burj - Now a traffic roundabout (Lodhi Road - Mathura Road intersection). Nila Gumbad - Adjoining the Humayun's Tomb complex
Subz Burj - built somewhere in mid-1500's, no one knows who is buried here. Nila Gumbad - said to be the oldest Mughal ruin, but I can't find a date online for when it was built. Later in mid-1600's,  Miyan Fahim said to be buried here.
Subz Burj - lies in the buffer zone of Humayun's Tomb; Nila Gumbad - listed under world heritage site list.

Kahani Kabab Ki - the story of the kabab in India

It is the month of Ramzan now. During the daytime, Old Delhi's Muslim neighbourhoods are quieter than usual, as people stay indoors in the blistering heat, fasting all day long. Not even water is drunk. In the evening, the city cools down, the day's fast is broken, and people gather in large numbers around the many street stalls offering treats.

Crowds outside Jama Masjid, Delhi

The kabab sellers do brisk business, offering skewered, spiced meats to an endless stream of customers. Tangdi kabab, Shammi kabab, kalmi kabab, reshmi kabab....so many varieties!

Kababs being cooked in a typical iron sigri

I was curious about the origins of the word kabab, so I did some digging around. It turns out that the word kabab is actually very old - its roots go back to the ancient Akkadian language, in which kababu means to fry or burn. The Akkadian Empire, dating to around 2300 BC, ruled over what is now Iraq, Turkey, Syria, and parts of Iran. The word kabab also exists in other old languages, such as Aramaic and Persian, which were spoken over a wide geography. It exists in Arabic, which is believed to have developed into a distinct language somwhere in the 3rd century AD. It also exists in Turkic, which between 6th - 11th century AD spread across Central Asia, covering a vast geographical region.

Thus, starting from ancient Akkadian, it appears that the art of spitting and roasting meats has existed continuously for at least 4500 years. The kabab was thus a familar dish among people spread over a very large region, ranging from Egypt to Mesopotamia to the Middle-East.

Shop selling kebabs in Istanbul, Turkey

In India too, the spitting and roasting of meat was well-known. Meat was a significant part of the diet of the Indus Valley civilization, although we don't know if they called it kabab (because we have not yet deciphered their script). During the Mature Harappan period, colonies of Indian traders were established in the Persian Gulf port cities, and even in Mesopotamia. So it is possible that they had at least heard the word kabab :) :)

Based on the archaeological record, we know that the Harappans ate fowl, cattle, chickens, sheep, goats, deer, antelopes and wild boar. It's reasonable to assume that they knew how to grill and cook meat in various ways. Meat skewers have not been unearthed in any Indus Valley sites. But ovens have been found, both small and large, and we can assume that bread and meats were cooked in these ovens much like modern-day tandoori cooking.

Cooking hearth/tandoor/altar, Kalibangan

Ancient Indian literature also contains many references to grilling, frying and cooking meat. In the Ramayana, there is a passage which describes a meal thus: Cooks, under the supervision of diligent stewards, served large pieces of meat roasted on spits, meats cooked as curries, and sauces made of tamarind and pomegranate; young buffalo calves roasted on spits with ghee dropping on them; young buffalo calves fried in ghee, seasoned with acids, rock salt and fragrant leaves; large haunches of venison boiled in different ways with spices and mangoes, and sprinkled over with condiments; shoulders and rounds of animals dressed in ghee, sprinkled over with sea-salt and powdered black peppers, and garnished with radishes, pomegranates, lemon, fragrant herbs, asfoetida and ginger.   

It looks like our ancients were pretty good kababchis themselves :) They liked roasting and grilling spitted meat over flames, as well as cooking it into curries.

Coming back to the word kabab: it is likely that this word made its way again into India in a more recent phase, after we came into extensive contact with the Arabic, Persian and Turkic language.

In 711 AD, the Arabic-speaking Umaiyyad commander Muhammad al-Thaqafi conquered Sind, and thus established the first sustained Indian contact with the Arabic language. The word kabab may have entered the vocabulary of India through that source.

Kabab - a word now understood in all parts of India

India's first sustained contact with Persian language came in the 11th century AD, when the Ghaznavids established themselves in Punjab. The first Turks came to India with Muhammad of Ghor in 1175 AD.

From 1206 AD, when Delhi was ruled by the Ghurids, Mamluks, Khaljis, Tughlaqs and Lodis, Persian was the official language. Turkish was spoken in the bazaars, and Arabic was the liturgical language taught in schools. During the Mughal empire, the official language used was Persian, although both Turkic and Arabic were in use. In the south of India, the rulers of the Deccan Sultanates also used Turkic, Arabic and Persian.

It is my conjecture that between the 8th century and the 18th, the word kabab became widespread in India through these contacts. The entry point was probably "Hindustani", a hotch-potch language which arose in the 11th century AD, through contact between the local Indian population, and various invaders, traders and religious men who settled in Hindustan from the north-west. Hindustani allowed speakers of Turkic, Arabic and Persian to communicate with native Indian speakers. In Delhi, the popular local language was Khadi Boli. Hindustani retained the grammar and structure of Khadi Boli but also absorbed a large number of Persian, Arabic and Turkic words for better cross-cultural communication. It is my conjecture that the word kabab first crept into Hindustani, then established itself over time into both Urdu and Hindi, eventually becoming fully absorbed into the Indian vocabulary.

Hast-Mudra (Hand-Symbols) at Delhi airport

If you fly into Delhi's Terminal 3, you'll see this: a big installation of hasta-mudras (hand-symbols) as you come down the escalator in the arrivals area.

Like all human gestures, these hastra-mudras are primarily meant for communication. Each one has a meaning and a way of usage. 

The language of mudras was once understood by all Indians; but unfortunately, it has now become an esoteric piece of knowledge, understood only by specialists. The typical visitor to the airport walks past these hands thinking, ah, ok, ummm, mudras, yes, very good, very good, great Indian traditions, yes, yes, very good indeed :) :)

But what do these mudras mean?

An explanation for these symbols can be found in the Natyashastra, a classical manual on the theory and practice of Indian aesthetics (theatre, music, dance, poetics, etc). Based on linguistic analysis and references, scholars date the Natyashastra anywhere from 2nd century BCE to 2nd century CE.

Chapter 9 of the Natyashastra explains 67 types of mudras, dividing them into those using a single hand, and those requiring two hands. It also explains general rules regarding their usage, how the arms are to be moved, the "quantity" or extent of gesturing to be done, etc.

For example, the symbol in the photo here is called "tripataka". Pataka = flag, and tripataka = flag with 3 fingers.

The tripataka mudra can be used for crowning a king; for example, with both hands in tripataka, you can depict the placement of a crown on someone's head.

This mudra is used for anointing someone's forehead with a tilaka. This mudra, with the finger pointing downwards and hand moving up and down is used to represent the flight of a small bird, or the movement of a stream or of a snake.

It is used for raising up something; for example, if you are giving blessings to someone who has fallen at your feet, you can raise the person using two hands in tripataka.

With two tripataka hands facing each other, you can represent a door. You can use it to wipe off tears.

It has more exotic uses as well - for example, if you want to depict an underwater fight between two monsters, you can use tripataka! The jumping of monkeys is also represented using tripataka.

As you can see, a single mudra is used in different ways and combinations, to create different meanings. Traditional classical dance performances in India usually use these gestures as part of their vocabulary.

One of the major reasons why classical dances lose out to 'modern'  dance is the loss of this vocabulary. Over the years, the audiences no longer understand the gestures, and a vital link between performer and audience has been lost. A painstaking re-education is the only way to revive it. It's either that, or resign ourselves to losing these traditions.

The Lodi Friday Mosque

There is some exquisite architecture in the Lodi Gardens. In fact, there is so much beauty that I don't know what to write about, and what to leave out. For example, this gorgeous doorway is just one of the unimportant side entrances of the Friday mosque at the Bara Gumbad complex. 

The lime plaster stucco work that the Lodi tombs are known for.

The mosque was built by Nizam Khan Sikandar II (Sikander Lodi). He ruled between 1489-1517, and was a Pashtun Afghan. The Friday mosque is part of a complex of three buildings, two of which you can see in the photo below. The mosque is the building you see on the right, with the arched bays. The bigger building on the left is the Bara Gumbad.

The arched entrances of the mosque are interesting, because of their proportion. The central ones are very wide, compared to their height. See the photo below; how wide the three arches are! By the time of the Lodis, the practice of putting three domes together in mosques was in place, and the sizes of the domes may have influenced the width of the arches. Or it could be, that the Lodis were modeling their work on the grand Great Arch of Bust, built by the Ghoris in Afghanistan in 1149.

The mound of rubble which is in the foreground is believed to be a burial area. I don't understand what else such a large base could be, which is placed out in the open, and that too in the central path. Did someone want to be buried in the open, without a tomb over his head? Or was it some structural construction that they began and then abandoned? An architectural minar experiment gone wrong? Who knows?!

There are some unusual features in this Friday mosque of the Lodis. The most unusual one being the jharokha-window which you can see on the side of the mosque. The window was obviously needed for the flow of breeze in Delhi's hot summers. But this one has been given a local treatment, similar to those found in temples and homes of Northern and Western India.

In the photo above you can also see a very stocky minaret. I suppose ever since the Qutb Minar (and the even older minaret at Jam in Afghanistan), every nobleman in Delhi wanted to build minarets. The Tughlaqs who preceded the Lodis also built several of these bulky minarets. To me it looks as if the one in Lodi mosque was planned to be taller, but then the idea abandoned later (see how the top segment narrows all of a sudden). 

It's all these experiements - some successful and some not-so-successful - that endear Lodi architecture to me. As I said earlier, the Lodis are Pashtun Afghans. When we think about the Pashtuns, we have this image of a warring tribal people with no refinement. But Afghanistan has architectural remnants of all ages, including Greek and Buddhist stupas, grand minarets, grand arches, and they have superb stucco work with baked bricks and calligraphy; not to mention the amazing blue stonework. The Lodis brought these dreams to India. In this new land, where the Lodis ruled for 75 years - yes, that is a long time - they rendered the beauty of their homeland in whatever fashion they could.  Those of us who have walked in Delhi's Lodi Gardens can see the dreams of these men even today.