Textualising the Nostalgia of 1857: The Shahr Ashob Genre- Part Two

Textualising the Nostalgia of 1857: The Shahr Ashob Genre- Part Two

3 June 2024
The poems of this era ushered in a more concrete portrayal of architectural decay - to articulate the memory of 1857 as a cultural trauma.

Read part 1 here: https://memorients.com/articles/textualising-the-nostalgia-of-1857-the-shahr-ashob-genre

Textualising the Loss and Nostalgia:

The post-1857 Shahr Ashobs, bore witness to a poignant narrative of anguish and desolation, echoing the themes of loss and ruin that had long permeated the cultural fabric of the region. However, what distinguished this literary response was not merely its thematic continuity with earlier traditions, but rather the deliberate employment of specific literary devices to articulate and perpetuate the memory of 1857 as a cultural trauma.

Central to this textualisation of loss and nostalgia was the strategic adoption of Shia aesthetics, a subtle yet powerful means of imbuing the narrative with layers of dynamic resonance. The emphasis on historical rupture served to underscore the magnitude of the cataclysmic events of 1857, framing them not merely as isolated incidents but as seismic shifts that irrevocably altered the socio-political landscape of the subcontinent, at the same time invoking an emotional resonance within the populace.

Unlike previous traditions that primarily depicted cities through their people, the post-1857 literature began to weave a narrative of urban imagery that transcended mere physicality. Drawing inspiration from Sanskrit and Arabic literary traditions, wherein the description of cities held a sacred place within the poetic canon, writers of this era sought to evoke a sense of nostalgia and lamentation by painting vivid portraits of deserted streets, crumbling palaces, and dilapidated mosques, and other cultural landmarks.

Scholars have delved into textual representations that depict a poignant narrative of loss and nostalgia, particularly concerning urban landscapes. While conventional accounts often highlight the opulence of palaces and architectural marvels, an alternative lens sheds light on the human narrative woven within the city's fabric.

In contrast to the emphasis on grand edifices, Turkish and Persian narratives offer a refreshing perspective, where cities are not merely defined by structures but by the vibrant mosaic of inhabitants. Within the Indo-Persian tradition, works such as Dargah Quli Khan's "Muraqqa‘-ye Dehli" documented the lives of individuals—Sufi saints, poets, and entertainers—who breathed life into the urban landscape.

This shift in focus signifies a nuanced understanding of urbanity, wherein the richness of a city also lies in the collective and cultural memories of its people. The aftermath of 1857, marked by upheaval and displacement, accentuated this sentiment of loss and nostalgia. Texts from this period often serve as poignant relics, capturing the essence of a bygone era and the irreplaceable human connections that once thrived within the urban milieu.

Before this period, poetic tributes often extolled the virtues of Delhi's esteemed denizens, celebrating the city's luminaries across various fields of knowledge and artistry. Yet, as the echoes of 1857 reverberated through the collective consciousness, a discernible transformation unfolded within the verses of lamentation. No longer confined to abstract musings, poets began to weave a thread of sorrow that intricately intertwined with the materiality and the experiences of the urban landscape.

Another point to note is that, unlike earlier works where ruins remained largely metaphorical and anonymous, the poems of this era ushered in a more concrete portrayal of architectural decay. Specific monuments, once resplendent symbols of Mughal glory, now became focal points of lamentation, their names etched into the annals of poetic elegy. Through evocative descriptions, poets sought to evoke not just the physical deterioration of these edifices but also the profound cultural loss they embodied.

Alas, Alas, Shahjahan’s buildings have been dug up,

Alas, Alas, Delhi’s splendour has been destroyed!

The emergence of a heightened interest in the architectural and historical heritage of Old Delhi, particularly evident in poetic and scholarly works of the early nineteenth century, can be attributed to a confluence of factors. Scholars such as C. M. Naim, Faisal Devji, and Margrit Pernau have shed light on this phenomenon, attributing it to the influence of Western scholars, officers, and tourists who brought with them a fascination for the historical significance and spatial arrangement of North Indian cities.

This newfound attention to monuments and urban landscapes is exemplified by early nineteenth-century travelogues, paintings, and antiquarian writings, which increasingly depicted Delhi as a city shaped by its built environment. Mirza Sangin Beg's "Sair al-Manazil" (A Walk through the Houses), composed around 1820, offers one of the earliest instances of conceptualizing Delhi primarily through its architectural landmarks. It is suggested that this work may have been commissioned by individuals like Thomas Metcalfe, reflecting the growing interest among British officials in understanding and documenting the cities they administered.

Similarly, the compilation of Delights of Buildings by Lalah Sil Chand in 1824, focusing on the buildings of Agra with accompanying drawings, is believed to have been influenced by figures like John Steven Lushington. This trend continued into the late 1840s and early 1850s with Syed

Ahmed Khan's editing of Essentials of Buildings, under the patronage of a British judge. These works underscore the collaborative nature of knowledge production during this period, where British officials often played a significant role in commissioning or facilitating scholarly endeavours focused on Indian heritage.

Margrit Pernau further illuminates this dynamic, emphasizing the interconnectedness between colonial interests and indigenous knowledge production. By contextualizing the production of these texts within broader colonial agendas of governance and cultural appropriation, Pernau invites a critical reevaluation of how knowledge about Indian cities was constructed and disseminated during the colonial period - particularly in the context of Mughal architecture where, as highlighted by Bernard Cohn the architecture and the sovereignty went hand in hand.

However, a shift towards heightened architectural emphasis does not necessarily denote a severed bond between people and their built environment. Rather, an exploration of Shahr Ashob's poetry unveils a nuanced narrative wherein Delhi's monuments assumed a profound emotional charge, serving as poignant substitutes for the departed or deceased populace.

Within these poetic expressions, a symbiotic relationship between the populace and the urban landscape emerges, underlining how the fortunes of both were intricately intertwined. Poets evocatively captured this sentiment, portraying the cityscape as a mournful entity lamenting the loss and devastation it witnessed, akin to the sorrow expressed by the poets themselves highlighting a dynamic interplay between human experience and architectural symbolism, challenging simplistic narratives of disconnection between individuals and their urban milieu.

It became insignificant in the world, the mark of Delhi,

Homeless has become every house of Delhi.

The sky now cries at the earth’s condition,

Every house cries on the separation from its occupants.

In the poignant imagery of the poems, landmarks like the Red Fort and Chandni Chowk emerge not merely as architectural marvels but as vessels of memory, encapsulating the vibrant tapestry of Indo-Muslim aristocracy and Mughal life. Their loss echoes the void left by the departure of those who once breathed life into their ancient stones. Conversely, the survival of certain landmarks, such as the Jama‘Masjid, becomes a beacon of hope, symbolizing the resilience of Delhi's spirit amidst adversity.

Yet, the evolution of urban consciousness in "The Lament for Delhi" is not solely a product of external influences. Rather, it is deeply intertwined with the shifting dynamics of Mughal courtly life. The nomadic traditions of Mughal rulers, with their itinerant courts and sprawling encampments, fostered a fluid sense of place where architecture and tentage intertwined seamlessly. However, as the Mughal Empire waned and territorial constraints took hold, the once-mobile court became increasingly rooted in place. This transition marked a pivotal moment in thecity's history, as the ephemeral gave way to the enduring, and a new sense of place began to take root.

Yet, as scholars like Daniela Bredi have noted, this romanticized vision of pre-1857 Delhi often obscures the complex realities of Mughal decline and British colonialism. Indeed, by the 19th century, Delhi had already become a shadow of its former self, its once-mighty Mughal rulers reduced to mere figureheads in the face of British hegemony.

The pre-1857 city of Delhi, as depicted in "The Lament for Delhi," holds a profound significance deeply rooted in the fabric of Islamic culture and spirituality. Unlike mere geographical locations, it emerges as a sacred nexus, akin to a celestial beacon, resonating with the spiritual resonance of Mecca. This portrayal transcends the conventional boundaries of religious piety, extending beyond the mere sites of pilgrimage or worship enshrined in traditional narratives. Instead, it paints a vivid tapestry wherein the entire Mughal city, steeped in its language, culture, and architectural grandeur, becomes the embodiment of divine presence and cultural heritage.

Drawing upon the traditional tenets of Islamic architecture, the poets imbue the imperial city with profound metaphysical significance, portraying it as the axis mundi, the symbolic epicentre of a cosmic hierarchy encompassing city, empire, and universe. In this cosmological schema, the imperial Fort assumes a sacred mantle, symbolizing the transcendent nexus wherein earthly and celestial realms converge.

Echoing the classical theories of Islamic architecture, the city is metaphorically likened to the anatomy of the human body, with its various components mirroring the intricate harmony of the imperial order. The main market, akin to a sturdy backbone, supports the bustling vitality of urban life, while the palace stands as the majestic head, embodying regal authority and sovereignty. The great mosque, beating at the heart of the city, symbolizes its spiritual vitality and communal cohesion, while the labyrinthine streets and edifices serve as the sinews and organs, intricately woven into the urban fabric.

Let’s call Chandni Chowk the breast, and say the Fort’s the head,

And let’s imagine Jama‘ Masjid is the waist of Delhi.

Soofia Siddique’s exploration of Mughal ideology unveils a profound metaphorical understanding where the body emerges as a potent symbol of authority. Within this intricate framework, the ceremonial bestowal of the khilat, or honorific robe, serves as a tangible embodiment of the ritualistic incorporation of subjects into the body politic. This ritual not only signifies a symbolic merging of individuals into the imperial corpus but also underscores the hierarchical arrangement intrinsic to Mughal governance.

Rosalind O’Hanlon further delves into the symbolic significance of the just emperor within this ideological schema. The emperor, envisioned as the divine focal point of society, embodies moral virtue and serves as the linchpin for cohesion and harmony within the empire. Through the dissemination of norms and values, the emperor's influence extends across various spheres, from the macrocosm of the kingdom to the microcosms of households and individuals.

Poets such as Dagh and Saqib poignantly illustrate how the ebb and flow of the city's cultural vitality are intimately intertwined with the cyclical process of destruction and reconstruction. Through their verses, they encapsulate the symbiotic relationship between the city's physical fabric and its cultural resilience, revealing how the fate of buildings mirrors the oscillations of collective identity and memory.

An open field in the middle of the Fort and, within it, a road

Have changed the very heart and life of Delhi.

Who is that ruler of Jamshed’s rank? Cooper sahib!

May he be called the Shah Jahan of Delhi!

[ . . . ] Chandni Chowk was ruined but then built anew

Let us call it the youthful fortune of Delhi.

Conclusion:

The exploration of Shahr Ashob's evolution amidst the tumult of the Revolt of 1857 reveals a profound interplay between literature, history, and urban consciousness. Through Urdu poetry, the genre transcends mere lamentation, becoming a poignant vehicle for expressing cultural resilience and historical memory. Poets navigate the intricate corridors of loss and nostalgia, weaving together the tangible remnants of Delhi's architectural splendour with the intangible threads of collective trauma.

Moreover, scholars' analysis illuminates how the deliberate erasure and repurposing of Mughal structures by colonial forces reshaped the city's identity, underscoring the complexities of cultural appropriation. Yet, amidst desolation, the enduring spirit of resistance echoes through the verses, celebrating the resilience of those who defied oppression.

This exploration offers insights into the intricate tapestry of emotions woven into the urban fabric, inviting reflection on the enduring legacy of colonialism and the power of literature to preserve cultural heritage. Shahr Ashob emerges not only as a poetic genre but as a testament to the human capacity for resilience in the face of adversity, ensuring that the voices of the past resonate with depth and meaning for generations to come.

References:

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9. Tignol, Eve. “Nostalgia and the City: Urdu Shahr Āshob Poetry in the Aftermath of 1857.” Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society 27, no. 4 (2017): 559–73. https://www.jstor.org/stable/26859347.

10. Waraich, Saleema. “A City Besieged and a Love Lamented: Representations of Delhi’s Qila-i Mualla (‘Exalted Fortress’) in the Eighteenth Century.” South Asian Studies :/South Asian Studies 35, no. 1 (January 2, 2019): 145–64. https://doi.org/10.1080/02666030.2019.1605575.

Title Image: Revolt of 1857: Blowing up of the Kashmiri Gate. Source: Google Images

Vidarshna Mehrotra is a passionate third-year history undergrad from Lady Shri Ram College for Women, University of Delhi - interested in exploring the intricate tapestry of history, society, culture, and politics. Her heart beats for the written word, and she finds solace in the art of storytelling. With an open heart and an inquisitive spirit, she thrives on connecting with diverse individuals and eagerly embraces every opportunity to immerse herself in novel experiences that broaden her horizons.