History offers several opportunities for counterfactual thinking. The question remains does counterfactual thinking help us in deepening our understanding of society and life and not repeat the mistakes. If not, the whole exercise would be futile.
Akbar Ahmed's narrative in this book challenges the reader to think whether one can step out of the limiting boundaries of context and stand up for truth and compassion. At several points in the book, the reader is sensitised to the idea that the journey to truth is solitary and subjective.
Akbar Ahmed juxtaposes the story of Dara Shikoh, the Mughal Saint- prince with the story of Noor, the fearless sister of three brothers, each representing a version of Islam in the contemporary world. Though both settings are separated by four hundred years, the issues remain the same.
Akbar Ahmed presents a nuanced story of humanity and Islam in Noor. Noor’s story is set “in a city in the Muslim world, which could be Baghdad, Cairo, Karachi or Kabul (P.15).” Daoud, the doctor and second brother of Noor likens their state of living to almost a Hobessian existence:
“The neighbourhood isn’t the same anymore; everyone is nervous. Cousins spying on each other, friends reporting on a friend, who is there to trust? (P.19)”
It is hard to miss the despondency in Daoud’s words. In his helplessness, Daoud resorts to Islam, as the panacea for everything in an increasingly unpredictable world. In Daoud’s words:
“These Americans have reduced Muslim societies to a jungle. But even the jungle has certain laws. Here we don’t have any. Only Islam can prevent our societies from totally collapsing (P.31)”
Daoud is the voice of the disillusioned who witness a ‘clash of civilisations’ between the West and the followers of Islam. For Daoud, the differences between both worlds are insurmountable and complex. He is the closest approximation to a puritanical, doctrinaire Aurangzeb in the contemporary world. Daoud’s words underscore the dangers of a non-existent dialogue between the West and Islam.
“Yes, yes, but I cannot ignore what is happening to my people any more. We Muslims are being killed and tortured and humiliated across the world. We have been robbed of our honor and dignity. Entire generations are growing up traumatised and angry at the injustices, and yet, Muslims are being called ‘terrorists’ and ‘extremists’. And everywhere America is leading the attack on Islam. Islam is under siege. It is time for every Muslim to stand up and say, ‘No more. We will not take this anymore. We will be heard.’(P.32)”
Noor’s third brother Ali is a lawyer and believes in the rule of law. Ali’s disillusionment stems from his experience with the military when Ali and his sister Noor are unfairly detained and suspected as terrorists for calling out the excesses of the troops.
Noor and Ali are taken to an undisclosed location. Ali is tortured and Noor abandoned in the dawn hours in the outskirts of the city. Ali discovers that the Western ideals of human rights, mercy and justice he believes to be universal, are in fact useless in protecting citizens. Akbar Ahmed portrays the angst of millions through Ali’s words:
“I have been trained to uphold the ideals of justice, the only thing that separates us from the animals! I am supposed to fight with my pen and my words, fight for what God has decreed and society has written into law. What good are we if we can’t implement the law on earth? What good am I? We have no rights. We are vulnerable anytime and anywhere. Anyone can walk into our homes and humiliate us. Even our women are not safe (P.41).”
Noor’s eldest brother Abdullah looks for inspiration to the past. Abdullah is the disciple of a Sufi mystic and strives to understand what makes one a true Muslim. Abdullah is the epitome of Dara Shikoh. Abdullah’s faith and optimism in human nature is a contrast to Daoud’s cynicism.
In Abdullah’s words:
“It is upto us to translate the will of God (P.61)” and the past provides a template for us to act, “The Saints give us inspiration and hope, not grenades and explosives (P.40).”
In the second play ‘Dara Shikoh’ , Akbar Ahmed portrays the struggle between two Mughal princes, Aurangzeb and Dara Shikoh. They fight for something more than the throne. The Princes fight for their ideas, values and two different understandings of religion and spirituality. Akbar Ahmed’s Dara Shikoh is poignant and tenacious. Defending himself in the court, addressing a panel of Mullahs, Dara Shikoh argues:
“Neither Guru Nanak nor I have ever made negative remarks about Islam. On the contrary. What both of us have done is to underline the spirituality of Islam, and to contrast it with the hypocrisy of its religious clerics who do not practise what they preach……I simply emphasise the inner spirituality of faith, and not its outward superficial behaviour, which can o easily degenerate into mechanical ritual and empty, hypocritical gestures……My Islam teaches me to understand and appreciate other societies and religions. That, too, is written in the Qu’ran (P.92).”
Akbar Ahmed’s book reminds me of Hegel’s quote:
“The only thing we learn from history is that we learn nothing from history.”
If only we had allowed the past to illumine the present;
if only we had learnt from Dara Shikoh’s pluralism;
if only Dara Shikoh’s understanding of Islam found followers;
if only..….if only…if only..ah, the counterfactual!
Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Parts One and Two by John Tiffany
My rating: 3 of 5 stars
I have only read the book or the script for the rehearsal as it is mentioned on the cover page. Since, I haven’t watched the book ‘staged’ I can only say my review is partial. However, I sincerely feel my memories of growing up with the Potter series would have been unmarred if I’d have skipped reading the book. First, I missed the rich imagery and description that characterize J.K.Rowling’s books and second, the narrative was broken and characters explored in a shallow manner.
There are several threads that warrant a deeper exploration. For instance, Albus and Harry’s contrasting experiences with the Sorting hat; Rose Granger-Weasley’s striking resemblance to her mom’s self-assured countenance; the ‘awkward’ friendship between Albus and Scorpius and why would they ‘not’ hug?
The book zooms in to the father-son relationship between two (three?) pairs: Harry Potter and Albus; Draco Malfoy and Scorpius and almost hesitantly, Dumbledore and Harry. The book is not so different from the earlier Potter books in that it has a message. The message here being, the need to stop living in the past because it will only mar the present that lays a foundation for the future.
Albus and Scorpius drag us through alternate realities in the future as they try to tweak the past mistakes to correct the future course. But, every alternate reality comes with a price and is definitely worse than the present they come from. Albus and Scorpius come to a hard realization of the delicate balance of time and destiny and let things be.
I felt the redeeming feature in the book was the newly struck friendship between Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter et al. Draco’s struggle to deal with life as a widower and his grudging admission that he missed the strong bonds of love, trust and friendship among Harry, Ron and Hermione endear him as opposed to the rich, entitled Slytherin kid that he was when at Hogwarts. Love is a much misunderstood concept for both Harry and Draco as they struggle to forge loving relationships with their respective teenage sons. The journey to find love is humbling for all.
In Harry’s words to Malfoy: “Love blinds. We have both tried to give our sons not what they needed, but what we needed. We’ve been so busy trying to rewrite our own pasts, we’ve blighted their present (P.279).”
The book’s weakness is the format: Prose to drama is a huge leap. The book’s strength is definitely the exploration of the themes of love, magic and humanness.
Dumbledore remarks:
“Harry, there is never a perfect answer in this messy, emotional world. Perfection is beyond the reach of humankind, beyond the reach of magic. In every shining moment of happiness is that drop of poison: the knowledge that pain will come again. Be honest to those you love, show your pain. To suffer is as human as to breathe (P. 275)"
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Summing up the book, the author Bilquis Jehan Khan writes:
" I have told my story so that those who never saw it (Hyderabad) then would have an idea of what it was in its heyday (pre-1948). It had a culture that no longer exists - it belongs to a time gone by (P.282)."
However, this book is beyond a 'nostalgic romance of the Hyderabad that was'. It is a recollection of Khan's life experiences spanning three continents and six countries and the kindness of people that makes the world a better place. Only someone like Bilquis Jehan Khan would find that despite her journey across the world -- the world is small and home is built with love and friendship, surpassing geographical boundaries.
As I read Khan's recollections of Hyderabad between 1930 and 1948, before her journey to Pakistan to join her husband, what impressed me most was the cosmopolitan nature of the city.
Perhaps, only in Hyderabad would a Muslim wedding trousseau consist of silk embroidered sarees, the staple of Parsi ladies (P.113); Only in Hyderabad would the festival of colors Holi, during the month of Basant, be celebrated with equal fervour by Hindus and Muslims (P.33) or a Christian priest would bring his troubled parishioners for healing blessings from a Sufi master (P.148). Further, Khan describes in detail the large number of Arab and African guards who served in the armed contingent of the Nizam and Muslim noblemen in the city, their special cuisine and customs (P.25). Khan herself, is married to Nasir, the son of a Muslim nobleman and a Scottish lady.
Khan describes the administration of jagirs (lands) by the Muslim noblemen. She writes:
"Our tenants who lived on the jagir were Hindus of the untouchable caste. My grandparents treated them well and looked after their interests. The Hindu servants were paid the same wages as the Muslim servants in Nasir Manzil (P.50)."
Khan's recollections are heartening especially in the present days of religious polarisation in Hyderabad and elsewhere in the country.
Khan notes a peculiar sense of camaraderie between the Muslim nobility and the Hindu employees.
Khan recollects one such incident between her grandmother and Malleyya, the chowkidar who happened to report to his duty, quite drunk. When asked "How would you answer to God on the Day of Judgment?", Malleyya, emboldened by his inebriated state replies, referring to the disparity in their class status: "Pasha, there are going to be so many more important people standing before God in front of me that He will not see little me to ask, 'Malleyya, why have you been drinking so much?' (P.52)."
I haven't read much about the experiences of Hyderabadis after the military action and accession of Hyderabad state to India in 1948. Khan notes the suddenness of the political changes and how unprepared the Nizam and his subjects were to meet the nascent democratic India. She shares her own feelings of being uprooted from her homeland Hyderabad.
In her words:
"We did not feel the immediate effects of the Partition at first, but in September 1948, the first year of my marriage, the Indian army marched in and took over the state (p.164)."
Her husband, who was an employee of the Nizam State railways had to find a job elsewhere. When he was posted to Karachi, Pakistan Bilquis Jehan Khan recounts: "My whole world collapsed. Hyderabad was my life and soul. How could I leave India and live in Pakistan? ... I decided to go to Karachi. I could foresee many trials and difficulties, but I believed that with my husband by my side I could bear anything (P.165)."
Just when Bilquis Jehan Khan and her family seem to find themselves at home in a new country, they get entangled in a political manhunt by the Prime Minister Zulfikar Ali Bhutto. Her son-in-law was arrested by the government on charges of conspiring with the leaders of Baloch who were rebelling against the government. For two long years, the family did not have much information about his whereabouts until his release in 1977, after the military coup by General Zia Ul Haq (P.243).
A Song of Hyderabad is a personal memoir, a political-social commentary in one. This book imparts a profound message to the reader: and that is to live with grace and dignity in the face of troubles.
I have always found peace at the many Sufi shrines in Hyderabad. Khan writes about her father who renounced his "surrender to the worldly life" at the age of 39 and became a Pir (spiritual master). The following lines about what it means to be a Sufi, struck me the most:
"The goal of the Sufi is to 'see the face of the Beloved (God)'. Among Sufis the basic means to that end is self-control. Meditation, the invoking of God's name, and self-discipline are important parts of Sufi practice, but unlike Hindus and Buddhists whose ascetism can take extreme forms, Muslims are forbidden to totally renounce this world. They believe that the greater challenge is to follow a spiritual path while living in the world and whilst being surrounded by its many temptations. A Sufi should renounce himself, not others (pp 143-144)."
I will cherish this book and its message.
