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The moon-faced lady’s dargah

Rana Safvi

APRIL 01, 2018 00:15 IST

UPDATED: MARCH 31, 2018 22:46 IST

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On Mahlaqa Bai, the first to give Urdu poetry a feminine voice

Every time I visit Hyderabad, I walk up the 500 steps leading to the shrine known as Koh-e-Ali or Maula Ali ka Pahad (the hill of my lord) to pray for strength to overcome difficulties or to offer my gratitude. Like me, every year lakhs visit this shrine, which is dedicated to Ali ibn Abu Talib, the fourth Caliph of Islam and the first Imam of the Shia sect. He is called Mushkil Kusha, or the solver of difficulties.

According to Tuzuk-e-Qutb Shahi, a eunuch in the court of Ibrahim Qutub Shah, the fourth ruler of the kingdom of Golconda, dreamt that a man dressed in green told him to visit a hill where Maula Ali was waiting for him. The eunuch went there in his dream and found Maula Ali on top of the hill with his hand resting on a stone. The next day, the eunuch went up the hill and saw a stone with an imprint of a hand. He got it hewn out of the rock and built a masonry arch over it. On hearing about this, Sultan Ibrahim Qutub Shah visited the hill and ordered a mosque to be built there. Since then, that area has been known as Koh-e-Ali. The rock with the hand imprint is enshrined at the back of the dargah. It is covered by a cloth and flowers and is said to have healing powers.

The poet-devotee

This year, on my visit to Koh-e-Ali, I went in search of another devotee of Maula Ali, a poet whose devotion was so deep that she ended nearly every verse with Ali’s name. She replaced the wooden canopy on the shrine and got a marble one made in its place.

Her name was Chanda (moon), and Asaf Jah II, the Nizam of Hyderabad, gave her the title Mahlaqa Bai (moon-faced lady). She was born in 1768 to Mida Bai, also known as Roop Kanwar Bai. Her birth was a miracle as her mother suffered a miscarriage while on a pilgrimage to Koh-e-Ali. Shah Tajalli Ali, a scholar and sage who was accompanying her, immediately brought her a thread and some incense sticks from the shrine. He tied the thread on her wrist and waved the incense under her nose. Roop Kanwar’s bleeding stopped and the foetus was safe.

Chanda Bibi went on to become one of the most important courtesans of the court of Asaf Jah II. She was extremely accomplished. Her teacher was the renowned exponent of khyal and dhrupad singing, Khush-hal Khan. She was also proficient at warfare and a consummate politician. She not only patronised poets and people of letters, but also rode to war dressed in male clothes with the Nizam. Though she may not be the first woman to have had her diwan published, as is popularly believed, she was the first to give Urdu poetry a feminine voice. Journalist Faiyaz Wajeeh tells me that it was Lutfun-Nisa of Bijapur’s diwan that came out a year before, in 1797. Lutfun-Nisa is overlooked because she wrote under the male sounding pen-name of Imteyaz.

In 1792, when her mother passed away, Mahlaqa Bai got a tomb made for her at the foot of Koh-e-Ali. She was buried next to her in 1824.

A plaque on the gateway of her tomb reads: Cypress of the garden of grace and rose tree of the grove of coquetry/ An ardent inamorata of Haider and supplicant of Panjetan/ When the glad tidings of the advent of death arrived from God/ She accepted it with her heart and heaven became her abode/ The voice of the invisible speaker called for her chronogram/ Alas! Mahlaqa of the Deccan departed for heaven 1240 AH (1824 AD).

Renovation efforts

Over the years, the garden where her tomb lies fell into disuse. No one knew that this was the resting place of a woman whom the Nizam had given the rank of an umara, and whose palanquin was preceded by drummers and 500 armed guards. It was Scott Kugle, a professor of Emory University, who researched the life of Mahlaqa Bai and deduced that beneath this garden was her tomb. With the help of funds from the U.S. Ambassadors Fund for Cultural Preservation and with supervision from the Centre for Deccan Studies, the tomb was renovated.

When my friend and travel companion Alka Kaushik, a travel writer, and I decided to visit Hyderabad, we both did some research. Barkas was one of the places she was told to find out about. When she told me about it, I too looked it up and came across a fascinating piece of history.

Around 200 years ago, when the Nizam of Hyderabad was fighting with neighbouring provinces, he realised he needed very strong and very committed soldiers. Even though he had already entered into an agreement with the British, he recruited the Hadhrami Arabs from Yemen as part of his personal army. They were the royal guards and also called chaush. They were housed in barracks outside the walled city of Hyderabad. From what I gather, very soon, the families grew and the word “barracks” was corrupted to “Barkas”.

All this was, of course, interesting but being a foodie and passionate cook, my interest lay somewhere else and I decided to visit it. I had always wondered why it is that while we, in North India, ate khichra, which is a dish cooked with seven grains, masala and meat with a grainy texture, the Hyderabadis ate haleem.

Though the basic premise of the two is similar — that is meat cooked with grains — the taste and preparation are very different. The haleem resembles the Arab harees in appearance and, somewhat, taste. I realised I had found my answer. Indeed it was introduced by the chaush. Research confirmed my suspicion.

Harees at a local restaurant.

I have lived for many years in the Middle East and am very familiar with their dress and food. When we drove into the area with friends at night, I saw the familiar thobe and checked headgear. Three children were walking down the street in their traditional dress. The youngest must have been three years old. I called out to them and talked for a bit: they told me they were returning from a jalsa.

I was, in fact, getting waves of nostalgia for Oman, where I had a wonderful three-year stay and which borders Yemen and has a big Yemeni population. In fact, just as I was looking at all the mandi shops (the traditional Arab food which comprises fine-grained basmati rice with chicken or lamb, slow-cooked in spices. It’s an Arabic version of our biryani. The most famous, Mataam al Arabi, was right in front of me. As we had just had a sumptuous dinner, I wasn’t up for it and, so, passed it. This area is very popular during Ramzan, my friends tell me. In fact, now they have mandi restaurants in other parts of Hyderabad, too, and I had seen quite a few during my drives through various parts of the city — earlier, they would come here to eat it.

The next day, I came back during the day. I met a couple of people who were of Yemeni descent but had no idea how many generations back their ancestors had come to India.

It’s most fascinating that in Barkas, the Yemenis have kept their culture and language intact.

Though they were speaking in the peculiar Hyderabadi Urdu with the typical pronunciations and inflections, they speak Arabic at home. They have zealously guarded their cultural identity, their language, dress and food.

In fact, though I haven’t been to Yemen, the names of shops and restaurants reminded me of small Saudi Arabian towns. Shops selling traditional lungis and scarves were typical of that area. One of the people I met was Ali Saleh Bawazir, who was selling figs and mulberries on a cart. He was quite happy to talk to me. In fact, his cart was right in front of the original barracks, which is now a Central Reserve Police Force (CRPF) training centre.

I asked him about his food, which, as it was lunch time, was all that mattered to me then. They ate a lot of harees he said, but when I asked where I could get it, I was told it was only available in the mornings — much like Old Delhi’s Nihari.

What’s the difference between haleem and harees, I asked Ali Saleh. He gave me a very detailed recipe, which I share here:

Take twice the quantity of mutton for one portion of the habb harees or pounded wheat. Cook the meat and the habb harees wheat separately, as the two take different amounts of time for preparation. Add only ginger, garlic, cinnamon and cardamom to the meat. Mix the meat and the wheat well. If you want it richer, add to it a paste of almonds and cashews with lots of desi ghee. Lastly, garnish with fried onions.

Khichra cooked in our home.

What’s the difference between this and Haleem? Saleh tells me that for haleem, one uses korma masala for the meat.Obviously, the Hyderabadis wanted it spicier. Also, it is possible they adapted their masalas to a dish they adopted.

They cook both haleem and harees at home, but Saleh prefers harees.

The chaush not only preserve their culture, they have also preserved their tribal values. When I asked him about the number of tribes who live here, he quipped: more than the hair on my head!

In fact, there are more than 200 such tribes living in barkas. They have their own mosques and madarsas, though now their children go to regular local schools.

Well, I prefer the khichra — so here’s a recipe:

Broken wheat (or daliya) – 2tbsp

Chana dal – 2 tbsp

Urad dal – 1 tbsp

Masoor dal – 1/2 tbsp

Moong dal – 1/2 tbsp

Rice – 1/2 tbsp

Jau – 2 tbsp

1. Soak the above ingredients for two hours. Bring water to boil with the following ingredients:

Mustard oil – 1tbsp

Haldi – 1tsp

Dhaniya – 2tsp

Ginger/garlic paste – 1tbsp each

Salt and red chilli to taste.

Tezpatta – 1

Bari illaichi – 2

Laung – 2

Peppercorn – 7/8

2. Add the soaked lentils and bring to a boil, stirring it continuously.

3. Pressure-cook for eight minutes on low flame.

4. Add bhunna meat (recipe given below) and mix really well.

5. Add 1/4 tsp garam masala powder.

6. Fry some sliced onions in ghee.

7. Add to the Khichra. Garnish with podina, hara dhaniya, ginger and green chillies. Serve with lemons.

I would like to end with a prayer for the Yemenis who are facing extreme hardship and famine in their own country.

#Yemen, #Haleem, #Harees, #Khichra