Features: Magazine | Literary Review | Life | Metro Plus | Open Page | Education Plus | Book Review | Business | SciTech | Entertainment | Young World | Property Plus | Quest | Folio |

Face from the past

The Walled City of Delhi has lots of stories to tell. Tales of Laila Majnu, of "the mad fakir", of Fitrat Jan and great "shairs" , says R.V. SMITH

How often it happens that something from the past emerges to make us gape in wonder. It may be an event or a person long since confined to the dim recesses of memory. This is exactly what happened one day when a lane in the Walled City of Delhi began to echo to the cries of someone in distress. Was he the victim of an accident or an assault or was it a madman in one of his fits? It was a well-built man in tattered shirt and pyjamas, with a bandage round his head, red with "blood" that had flowed onto his clothes. He had a stone in his hand and there was a chain on his leg that he kept clanking.

Soon he began to recite in Urdu, with groans and grunts for emphasis. A "shair" passing by wondered if he was Sarmad, "the mad fakir" who has come back to life. Only poets can think of such things in broad daylight. But an old man recognised him as one of the Majnus. These characters made frequent appearances in the streets during the pre-partition days to play the role of the famous lover. After a long break this Majnu had just walked into Esplanade Road out of nowhere. A foreign tourist got busy with his camera, an urchin started in disbelief and a burqa-clad woman lifted her veil just a bit to have a better view of the wretch raving for Laila in the heat of the afternoon.

Masterly recitation

Sometimes he pulled at his long hair and sometimes he beat his breast and gestured towards the sky, always looking past the crowd, but never at it directly as he went on with the masterly recitation of the dastaan (legend).

An upper story window suddenly opened. Some espied a fair face and thought it was Laila about to alleviate the misery of Majnu. But no, it was another girl disturbed in her siesta. She frowned, covered her head with a dupatta and threw a rupee coin. Majnu was not distracted. His heart-rending narrative continued, until he eventually swooned and fell. There was a shower of small change over his body. Slowly the man got up and collected them.

The day was still young and he clanked the chain as he made his way to another locality - or to buy more red paint to make the "blood" flow again. Funny, such things always happen in the Walled City. But this one brought a whiff of nostalgia from those youthful years which lie littered in the narrow streets of old Delhi.

There are other memories too, like those about the diminutive man who used to dance below the steps of the Jama Masjid. He claimed to be a descendant of Ahmed Jan Thirakwa, who entertained Wajid Ali Shah with his mastery over Kathak. A big crowd would collect when Fitrat Jan performed at the side of the road facing the shrine of Hare-Bhare. And everyone was amazed at his skill.

Titillating ghazals

The little man with a straggling beard and the body of a child pirouetted and his facial expressions brought out his feelings to perfection as an accompanist hummed titillating ghazals. Nobody really knew whether it was a he or she in a shair.

However, a kabab seller confided that the frail, fair, girlish looking person was actually a neuter who was in much demand after the show by the bachelors of the area.

Somehow Zarina did not go out much with the hijra gangs but preferred to accompany Fitrat Jan during his roadside performances. Fitrat Janhad picked up the rudiments of Kathak. Constant practice made him an expert "thirakwa" (one adept at twitchy body movements). His last act was performed with an empty aluminium can hanging from his deformed left hand. Would you be surprised to know that it got filled up with coins in no time?

Printer friendly page  
Send this article to Friends by E-Mail