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Those were the days of Awadh!

R.V. SMITH takes us back to the balmy times of Awadh when the courtesans danced to every badaria

Prince Anjum Quder, as chairman of Sibtanabad Imambara Trust, came from Kolkata to meet Prime Minister Rajiv Gandhi in the late 1980s. Grandson of Nawab Wajid Ali Shah, he had come to Delhi to seek a better deal for the descendants of the colourful Awadh ruler, who were eking out a humble existence in the eastern metropolis. A man of great poise and charm, Prince Anjum left no one in doubt that he was an aristocrat by birth. Some of the old world charm of Lucknow was wafted back to the present times by his very presence.

This scribe tried to persuade the Prince to give an interview and, after the usual Lucknavi - style excuses, he agreed. Prince Anjum did not like New Delhi very much, or so it seemed. He was more at home talking about Old Delhi, which, despite being congested and dirty, retained traces of Moghul culture - though not the etiquette that had later flourished in Lucknow.

Talking of his ancestor, he was still bitter about the treatment meted out to him by the British. Waving his hand in the plush hotel room where he sat, Prince Anjum Quder reminisced thus:

The road from Awadh to erstwhile Calcutta was a long one for Nawab Wajid Ali Shah and his family.

The nawab was sent into exile there by the British in 1856 and died heartbroken for his beloved Lucknow. He had left a city of 600000 on the banks of the Gomti where such landmarks as the Bara Imambara, Chattar Manzil, Kaiser Bagh, Macchi Bhavan, Moti Mahal, Shah Najaf, Sikandar Bagh, Dilkhusha and Begum Kothi stood. Cupolas, minarets, colonnades and mosques graced the skyline, peacocks spread their plumes and the mirzas and mirs indulged in their fancies.

In Calcutta he missed all those delights which had made his court as romantic as any in the Arabian Nights. Avirtual prisoner of the British, he longed for the perfumes that wafted in his palace and for the Parikhana, the school of dancing founded by him for budding Kathak artistes, whom he nudged into excellence when not occupied with the antics of jesters and eunuchs. Courtesans became khawasins, then paries and finally begums. That is how Hazrat Mahal rose to her pre-eminent position. She bore him a son, Birjis Qadr, and graduated to the status of Mahal.

Doctrine of lapse

He left his kingdom in tears after the annexation of Awadh by Lord Dalhousie, the Governor-General whose notorious `doctrine of lapse' had brought so many principalities under British rule.

But in this case, though the doctrine was not applied, Col. Sleeman had warned Dalhousie, "Awadh is the nursery of sepoys of the Company and its annexation will lead to a revolt." His prediction came true for on June 30 the `Mutiny' spread to moonlit Awadh also and disturbed Sir Hendry Lawrence at his dinner.

The rebel leader Barkar Ahmad, aided by a young Russian cavalry officer, routed the British at Chinhat. Then came the Maulvi of Faizabad - tall, lean and muscular with a hypnotic appeal. Hazrat Mahal rose to the occasion and had her son declared Wali, which enhanced her position. The battle was long, with Lawrence, Havelock, Outram and Colin Campbell pitting their might against the rebels. First the siege of the British Residency and then the siege of Lucknow and many bloody battles till the Company Bahadur re-established itself.

Awadh bled for many months. That was all a long time ago. The nawab's descendants are still in Kolkata. Their lot has been an unhappy one. Today hardly anyone remembers them and their ancestors who lie buried in a neglected corner of the city, where dirt and rubbish accumulate, especially in the rainy season. Now Prince Anjum Quder also rests there.

What a far cry from the days of Wajid Ali Shah, when each monsoon was welcomed with a new raga and the courtesans of Lucknow danced to every "badaria" which brought a passing shower - and the nawab danced with them, for rhythm was what motivated him and his favourite dwarf, Ahmed Jan Thikakwa! One was reminded of Anjum Quder during the recent visit of his brother from England, who had come to the Capital to release a book on the balmy days of Awadh, whose evenings still linger in memory.

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