Abstract
Distinguished scholar Margrit Pernau is not merely an expert on Indian history, what is unique about her is that unlike most Indologists she also has the experience of carrying out research on European history with particular reference to Germany. This has given her a broader perspective which is not always reflected in the works of ‘specialists’. Her intensive and extensive post-doctoral research on the Delhi based ashraf (highborn Muslims in India who claim foreign descent) has been rightly lauded by the German-speaking academia as the German version of this book has won several prestigious awards. This development also confirms the growing interest in Germany on researches relating to South Asian history.
While delving deep into the discourse gradually unfolded in this brilliant work, the reader should continually ask himself or herself certain questions for a proper understanding of the subject set in the changing cultural milieu of Delhi since the nineteenth century. For example what was the self-perception of an ashraf? To what extent is the definition of ashraf provided by a modern researcher different from the one offered by the colonial administrators? Is it historical to compare them with the European middle class? Before handling such complex issues, let us start with a brief but interesting interaction in which the famous poet Ghalib and a British officer were involved. Once Ghalib was sitting outside his house, a British officer asked whether he was a Muslim. With subtle irony, Ghalib replied, ‘Half Muslim Sir, I don’t eat pork, but I drink wine’. Actually the colonial power ascribed tremendous significance to religion in a person’s identification culminating in rigid or stereotyped categorisation of religious communities in South Asia. While defining caste too, the British administrator cum ethnographers often ignored the complexities associated with the system. These rigid and simplistic definitions had far-reaching consequences as far as intercommunity relations in South Asia are concerned. Even the twenty-first century media is often inclined towards stereotyping the Muslim community. They subconsciously ignore the fact that just like any other religious group, Muslims also constitute a heterogeneous community and their behavioural pattern is often determined by varied geo-cultural or economic backgrounds. Ghalib, who was sustained by the eclectic or cosmopolitan Mughal tradition was aware of this heterogeneity or complexity that characterised his community, which was contrary to the expectation of the British officer mentioned above and informed him that he was not a teetotaller Muslim. The stage in the book under review is set in nineteenth century Delhi. But like any great work it enables us to understand contemporary South Asia too, with particular reference to Muslim attitude towards wine. For example, let us pick up two Muslim majority countries in the subcontinent, Pakistan and Bangladesh. Consciously or subconsciously a section of the nouveau riche aspires to legitimise their position as elite by emulating a section of the Mughal aristocracy. Such emulation is often reflected through drinking habits. It goes without saying that this is unacceptable to the Taliban brand of Muslims. I remember a successful Karachi-based engineer in the late twentieth century circulated wedding cards during his son’s marriage, mentioning that those who are pained to see young people enjoying need not attend the ceremony. I was informed that one aspect of that enjoyment was drinking wine.
By challenging stereotypes, the learned author has reminded us about the complex and continuous process of identity formation. Just like a Hindu or Sikh or Christian, a Muslim can also have multiple identities. For example he/she can be a Sunni and can be inclined either towards a reformist brand of Islam or mystical Islam. He/she can represent the middle class or any other class. He/she may or may not have an ashraf identity. He/she can have a specific linguistic, ethnic or regional identity. That is why Muslims from Bengal, Punjab, Sindh, UP, Baluchistan or Kerala can be easily distinguished from each other. Even within a particular linguistic or ethnic group, Sunni ritual behaviour can differ from that of the Shiites. Particularly in South Asia, we notice the overlapping of religious communities in a zone called syncretism. A few influential Muslim historians and a section of the educated middle-class Muslims associate it with uneducated superstitious population. Justifiably, the present author does not accept this view. To bolster our argument we will cite only one example here, that of noted writer Sadia Dehlavi. Her ancestors were converted Muslims, just like majority of the Muslims in South Asia. She hails from a bustling publishing family who by no means can be denounced as uneducated. In her book on Sufism written in English she escorts the readers in an intriguing manner through the zone called mysticism inspired syncretism. Her book has representative value in the sense that her entity is not an atomised entity in the places of shared faith. Several centuries before her, in the verses of Ameer Khusrau, we are enthralled to see the mingling of Brajbhasha and Persian culminating later in the emergence of Urdu. It is recorded that he regarded Nizamuddin Awliya, as his murshid (spiritual guide). Interestingly Sadia Dehlavi, mentioned above also regards, this most illustrious Chishti saint as the patron saint of her family. Many Chishti Sufis of south Asia are venerated by Hindus and Muslims alike. Can we denounce Ameer Khusrau as a representative of the uneducated and superstitious population? Indeed! Professor Pernau does not accept the definition of Islam offered by select reformist groups. She advocates a polycentric model recognising the authority of every single group.
One significant contribution of contemporary western historiography, in which German social scientists have played a significant role, is going beyond the methodology associated with comparative analysis or cross cultural study. For example, it is problematic to compare the ashraf with the English middle class or the German Burger. Because the ashraf is not merely an economic category. They did not emerge in the aftermath of any industrial revolution. Even if we think at the cultural level, they differ from the nineteenth century Bengali bhadralok who can roughly be defined as the educated middle class beneficiaries of the new institutions introduced under the colonial milieu. In spite of the problem associated with comparative study, it seems wise to begin with the given concepts and fields of enquiry; the reader will do this anyway. However, differences will soon become explicit that can hardly be accommodated with the familiar questions and concepts. This is where the challenging task of translation begins; unlike literary translators, the historians have the great advantage of being able to explain and comment on their own translations. Having said all these, the author has confirmed that the dialogue between the concepts of Burger and ashraf proved surprisingly fertile. One advantage of using the German concept of Burgertum to describe the ashraf is that it avoids the limitations of a purely economic concept of class which is often ignored by the classical Marxist historiography. We have implied that an ashraf is unrelated to industrial means of production. At the same time it is useful to remember that economic resources are not the only means to achieve social power. In contemporary India, we notice an increasing emphasis in the culturally constructed character of communities or class. Simultaneously, a reluctance to completely relinquish the Marxist foundation is visible, which for decades had formed the point of departure for most historians.
Research on the Indian Muslims was dominated for many years by Partition, as the most decisive event to be analysed and understood. Depending on their approach, historians such as I.H. Qureshi (1962) and F. Shaikh (1989) sought to explain the extent to which Hindus and Muslims had always been different making the possibility of coexistence extremely difficult. On the other hand, W.C. Smith (1943), Aziz Ahmad (1967) and F. Robinson (1974), in their scholarly works, have discussed how, after centuries of more or less peaceful coexistence, a Muslim exceptionalism emerged culminating in the demand for a separate state. An alternative view is resonated in the works of A. Jalal (1985, 2001) and M. Hasan (1994), who argue that this exceptionalism had never been strong or widespread enough to significantly influence the course of history. They point out that this division was the outcome of the activities of power-hungry politicians who succeeded in mobilising the masses in the short term for their own objectives. Research on Islam and Muslims reached important milestones in the 1980s and 1990s, when the focus largely shifted from Partition to the origins of fundamentalism and its counter-forces. These studies share a tendency to assume that Muslim identity is primarily informed by religion and the creation of a community on the basis of religion surpasses and eclipses all other forms. This assumption probably explains why there are relatively few studies dealing with Muslim women, workers or the Muslim middle classes, despite the flourishing of gender and social historiography in India. Among the exceptions we can mention the ground-breaking work of Gail Minault (Secluded Scholars: Women’s Education and Muslim Social Reform in Colonial India, 1998). Some interesting information is to be found in Azra Asghar Ali (The Emergence of Feminism among Indian Muslim Women, 1920–1947, 2000), Shahida Lateef (Muslim Women in India: Political and Private Realities, 1890s–1980s, 1990) and Amit Dey (The Image of The Prophet in Bengali Muslim Piety, 1850–1947, 2006, particularly Chapters 3 and 5). Muslim workers are hardly studied, even with reference to Bengal where they are important in the demographic pattern. Though Lucknow was the second centre of Muslim culture in north India, the otherwise brilliant study by Sanjay Joshi (Fractured Modernity: Making of a Middle Class in Colonial North India, 2001) focuses almost exclusively on the Hindus. Besides Narayani Gupta’s path-breaking research on Delhi, there have been extensive studies on the poet laureate Ghalib which shed light not only on his life and work but also on the social and cultural life of Delhi. To a comparatively lesser extent, a parallel for the second half of the century can be found with the novelist Nazir Ahmad and the fascination he generates for scholars. The number of books published in Urdu about the history of Delhi is even greater. They contain a wealth of detailed information from primary sources and oral accounts, many of which have since been lost. There are four other areas of research. First, research carried out on poets. Second, there are studies with a focus on feminine language. Women’s Urdu vocabulary and idioms differed from that of men because of their separate spheres of life. The third focus is early journals and newspapers, and the fourth on religious movements and their leaders.
So far as the identity formation of Muslims in colonial India is concerned, there should be a balance between the accounts left behind by the ashraf themselves and the British official accounts. The latter is available in the archives of Delhi and Great Britain. The Urdu and Persian sources are much more difficult to trace. From 1857, there was hardly any state authority that identified with this tradition. Simultaneously, many Muslims had little confidence in the state and its treatment of their history. The collection of source material remained therefore largely in the hands of private initiatives. A bulk of such family sources has been lost during Partition and the subsequent mass exodus and migration.
Still the author rightly confirms that far more material has survived than an individual historian can utilise during his/her lifetime. For example, in addition to the British records, the tazkiras can be consulted. This genre includes the biographies of saints, scholars, poets and others. The book under review provides useful information about 1200 individuals on the basis of this genre. Besides, letters, petitions, newspapers and periodicals of nineteenth century northern India have been utilised. Interestingly, during the nineteenth century those Persian and later Urdu newspapers and periodicals were sailing through a period of transition from handwritten newsletters and the first printed newspapers. Religious texts such as malfuzat (table talk involving a Sufi saint and his disciples) have also been tapped alongside city descriptions. The latter developed into a genre of their own from the 1820s onwards. Huge variety of sources such as these have enabled the author to provide a comprehensive and intriguing picture of the Delhi based ashraf during the nineteenth century. The author has been highly successful in locating the nineteenth century Dehliite ashraf in a broader canvas. There is no doubt that those who are keen to study the socio-economic and political history of nineteenth century Delhi or Northern India surrounding the historic city during that period must read this scholarly and insightful book. The get-up of the book is excellent and the printing is almost flawless.