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Reflections of India

~ by facing my shadows

Reflections of India

Tag Archives: Madhya Pradesh

Baked mud and Madhya Pradesh rabri crop

23 Monday Jun 2014

Posted by opus125 in Madhya Pradesh

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hibiscus, Kali, Madhya Pradesh, rabri, rabri crop, soil madhya pradesh, vertisol soil

DSC01520res

Earlier this year, as I waited to fly our from Mumbai International I read of a political spat over funding to assist Madhya Pradesh farmers affected by hail. It was before the election and my own roof top herb garden had been shredded, which is of less concern than the harm experienced on land or in the village.

It was before the monsoon and with Madhya Pradesh soil problems I was concerned how farmers may fair with the yet to be planted Rabri crop.

Idyllicly beautiful, and yet farmers life is not rustic or romantic. The weight of the economy rests on a farmers shoulders. Whether wheat or mustard seed, it is the weight of hope for rupes that weigh on his shoulders. Labourers are like seeds: discarded, recycled ad exploited. You give more than you take.

For the farmer there is the risk of crop failure.

Named after the Arabic word for spring, the Rabri (रबी) crop is planted in winter. After a harsh summer, then the monsoon, ground water percolates from the underworld celebrated with harvest festivals. 

In Madhya Pradesh the deep black soil with a lot of clay called Vertisol and preparing for the November to April crop is difficult.  Baking 49 degree heat hardens the soil pre monsoon, add to this the unpredictability of the  monssons onset, when the soil swings from very dry to extremely wet.

Vertisol has low organic matter, is low Nitrogen but has good potassium, magnesium and calcium. After the monsoon it shrinks with deep cracks. Sticky during the monsoon and its hard to drain. Its hard to weed  but it keeps the moisture for a good harvest from the rabi crop.

Bheren, Madhya Pradesh

Its hard to prepare soil because  It may wash away the farmers soil.   So traditional farmer usually leave the soil fallow which makes good sense where there is usually low rainfall though the year. Where there is usually good rain the problem is drainage, a fixable problem if a farmer has money .

Each year the cycle continues, the repetition of deciding what to do.

While some famers want a short growing crop like soy bean to harvest before the rabi. A poor famer may leave the land fallow because if the soy cant be harvested in time, then he risks his more certain  wheat or chickpea.

 In India So a good rain may spoil the Kharif crops but it is good for Rabi such as wheat,  barley, mustard, sesame and peas which flood the market in February.  Other Rabi Crops include gram, and linseed.

As I watch I am fragmenting myself, wanting to be a part and still somehow being held back and reminded I am still a foreigner.

 But we are people of the earth.

The ancientShatapatha Brahmana describes a mother as ones first guru and preceptor. “This is the germ of civilisation which nature has put into our mothers” writes  Pandit Ganga Prasad Upadhyaya quoting the vedic phrase “Ekoham Bahusyam‘ ‘I am one, let me be many.’ A model of selflessness that supports the weaker babe for the future. Civilisation should be defined not by antisocial conquest but by the act of becoming civil or social. The word civil means to become social. Go back to that ever so misused word ‘culture’: From the Latin colere it means to till or to worship. Within is found the word cult. We may not immediately link culture to the idea of tilling a field. We do however, talk of agriculture, or horticulture. The tiller of the field seeks to maximise his efforts and efficiently harvest from the sees he has planted. In Sanskrit krishi means to till. Another related Vedic word is Krishti meaning a fully cultured man – but also it can mean the common man.

When in Bheren, in south Madhya Pradesh, I reminder of how blessed many city dwellers are, distant from the vagaries of livelihood destroying weather. It is comfortable to enjoy a city life separated from the struggles of the land. The cost seem tha in dislocating from the earth me are disconnected from our common humanity.

As the crop is harvested the great mother Durga is celebrated in Hindu India. The regular Hindu festivals do seem to remind even city folk of earthly roots. The neighbours will eye the red hibiscus growing over the telephone cable, sacred to sword wielding kali. In the battle field of the psyche, Durga takes on the form of Kali and her dance of destruction against the demons of evil. The fierce feminine unaware the battle is won, is stopped from destroying the universe only when her consort Shiva takes the form of a helpless baby. Kali stops, bring the infant to her breast as death becomes life, and sword gives way to compassion.

The summer is harsh, and the monsoon may also be deadly. A farmers life may mean to risk all, like  Ianna of Sumerian legend, they are to enter the underworld of trust naked and bowed low. I hope the harsheness of summer will be softened by a luxuriant monsoon harvest will rise from underworld with compassion.

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Death of a Gond Queen

03 Tuesday Jun 2014

Posted by opus125 in Madhya Pradesh, Tribal India

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bhopal, Dost Mohommad Khan, Kamla Park, Madhya Pradesh, rani kamlapati, Tribal India

kmlapati palace

Leaving the bus at Kamla Park, I am reminded of Bhopals Tribal heritage.

The indigenous peoples of the Malwa were the Dravidian Ghonds and Bhils.  The Gonds were mainly peasants while the Bhils were hunters and the Aryan Rajputs and Marhattas had dominated the region before the arrival of Islam.

With their own language the Gonds had their own idols and eventually assimilated into Hinduism. A gond-raja warlord ruled over both Gonds and Bhils.

 The meat eating Gond’s preferred to remain distinct from Aryan Hindus, particularly Brahmanism. Ethnically Dravidian they remained separate  from the succeeding layers of Hindu and Muslim settlers who had forced them to south and central India.

ghond palace

 So, a history of Bhopal though is incomplete without recognising the contribution of the Gond people, who were recognized by the Begums.

The famous forts of Ginnor and Chowkigarh were initially built by  Gonds.

Nawab Hayat Mohommad Khan adopted two Gond boys, the future Dewans Faulad Khan and the more infamous Chottey Khan.

To this day senior Gond families till retain land rights to larger properties or jagirs granted them by the Begums.

But as I walk around Kamala Park, there is a more haunting legend.

The famous Gond, Rani Kamlapati built the seven storey palace overlooking the lower lake.  Legend even claims  that the 16th century queen spent moonlit  nights floating on the lower lake in a lotus shaped barge. Kamala is Hindi for lotus.

Dost Mohommad Khan founder of Bhopal State

Dost Mohommad Khan founder of Bhopal State

She hired the Afghan mercenary  Dost Mohammed Khan, to avenge the murder of her husband, Nizam Shah Gond. Dost deposed her, founding his own dynasty, but the exquisitely beautiful queen declined life in his harem, and jumped into the upper lake rather than lose her honour.

 So as I walk around Kamala (lotus) Park, by the palace ruins, I am reminded of the scary tales that keep children awake from the parks southern shore.

 

view from Kamlapati Palace

view from Kamlapati Palace

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Reflections of a Residency Certificate

27 Tuesday May 2014

Posted by opus125 in Madhya Pradesh

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hindipod101, Madhya Pradesh, residency certificate, S P Office

Old Bhopal Fair

Old Bhopal Fair

Now I love India …………… however, today (well, maybe past few days) have been well… lets see.. ?

A foreigner in Bhopal I must legally register my presence at a police station. I go to a “Bitten Market” station and twice men spend 20 minutes reading my documents (each on different floors) telling me finally I must go to Sharpura Station. Next day I cycle there – the same thing the second person even ringing my business associate. Come back tomorrow with a letter with your address. …..

Meanwhile …. next day I go to another station that will remain nameless, with a friend from Switzerland (who has the wrong VISA!!) but he has with him a friend who knows a general. (Well I think hes a general. His uniform has three stripes. ) All is done in twenty minutes….
I return to sharpura station and am told the persons I met last night have no authority and had simply wasted my time. Again my business associate is rung. Now I am told I must go to the old city to get a special form and return with it.
3 stations. 4 trips. No approval. Yet someone else’s incorrect paperwork was passed over.Its no wonder foreign tourists don’t do the right thing. Its easier not too.

I am asked to sign a form.

“Do you have a letter from the High Commission?”

“No. They don’t give letters You give them letters and they stamp your VISA”

I must get a form signed and return again.

“From where?”

“S. P. Office”

But before I slip into a foolish diatribe about “stupid policies”, lets say I would learn more about myself and of Indian politeness …….

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Part 2 riding the old city

I am reminded of my recent  – and ongoing – struggle to obtain a simple form registering my presence here in India. There have been some remarkably helpful police officers in my case, but the power play patronising power play of some simply wanting to put you in your place. The use of shame is everywhere- I see it when for example my ‘landlady’ was falsely accused of improper behavior because she rented to a foreigner. Of course there are equally the wonderful stories as well. Once sure of me, most are extremely helpful.  In shahpura, along with my business partner who helped soot the language barrier, we were even offered chai

But I am getting ahead of myself …….

Delayed I am off on my cycle to the Old City, along Jali road past DB Mall, Arera Hills, up through the government area, the Birla Temple.

I am directed the wrong way by someone who misunderstands me: it’s understandable, he thinks I mean SP I Bank not the police Special Services Branch.

Back along besides the lake I am again on course, twice stoping at a police station to confirm I am on track. (A big man on a child’s bike however did raise a question from one officer). Another writes the address in note pad sheet for me:

Soon the rabbit warren of streets is packed. I have left my ride too late and peak hour is approaching. As I dodge some white Ambassadors squeezing through traffic, I keep note of other routes the SR-3 Gulhomar yes, that’s  near home. SR-6 Patel Nagar? I don’t know.

I best get on the main road before dark as I . Mean while checking the bus route numbers for future reference at the same time rehearsing lessons from Hindipod101:
You say “maaf kiijiye (excuse me) add the destination followed by “jatii hai?””

“Maaf kiijye, Old City jaati hai” The subject “this bus” is implied.

“Old City ko kiTnii Der hai? How long does it take to get to the Old City?”

The follows a quick stop at the rather famous Rahu Tea Stall for chai and pakhora.

Evergreen Rahu Tea Stall my driver Khan Bai

Evergreen Rahu Tea Stall my driver Khan Bai

I return home, only to be lectured about the poor safety of the Muslim Old City. There is security everywhere.

“Don’t even go to the old city – only if you are with khan bhai. They won’t  hurt you with one of their own.”

Why were  they suddenly worried about going places they wanted me to visit? The Old City is a rabbit warren and could easily haven pick pockets but as I explained to Deepak (and he agreed) treat people with kindness and you will be treated in kind. Mostly India’s hospitality to honoured guests takes priority.

Its too risky, don’t ride at dusk or nigh – at least not far. I had been told the exact opposite advice by Advity earlier, when she complained I was to housebound and unadventurous.

I did not realize she was concerned about the next day’s Republic Day celebrations.  Still, previously they had sent me to Independence Day festivities alone, and without the paperwork I am suddenly required after three years of living here.

 

Shoe Reair Old City Bhopal

Shoe Repair Old City Bhopal

Part 3 by bus

Khan Bai said to take the bus from Trilanga. He lives in the Old City, a regular at the Taj-ul-Masjid, the largest mosque in Asia. Unfortunately, Khan bai was wrong. The Trilanga bus is the SR3, but no worries. The driver left me off at nearby New market directing me across the chowk to the next stop as the bus turns right. I need the TR1 that runs closer to my home.

Learning the bus route helps me navigate the city. Tilak Nagar, Ishwar Nagar, 11 number, Paras City, Habibganj Sation, BJP Bhawan, Sargam Talkies, Board Office, Vyapam, 1250 Hospital, Prakash Taran Pushkar, New Market, Roshanpura,Polytechnic, Kamla Park, then as we enter the Old City Moti Masjid, Peer Gate, Royal Market, … yes Finally the Collectorate, the old building where the police head quarters resides.

An officer asks. Another walks out.

“Which office? “Shahpura?” He nods approval.

“You must register it here”

He points to the stairwell I already recognised, but was glad for the confirmation I was right.

After a long discussion it seems I must return to shahpura with a letter to be signed and returned.

When I mention this is the fifth station I have visited, I am given the phone to talk to an inspector. He is  trying to be helpful but with his accent and the loud buzzing of people in the room I can barely decipher his very good but quiet English. There is a lot of noise.

He explains the procedure. And after revisiting Shahpura  I must return another day.

… and the lesson? Saying “yes” (haan or ji haan)  need not mean agree. Even when spoken with deep nods of veneration.

They mean “Yes. I am listening.”

It seems that when I thought people were telling me “Yes. You are doing it right” they meant “Yes, I am listening.”

Now why cant they simply say “No”? It’ impolite. My dear Indian friends please tell me politely “Yes. (I am listening)” but  I beg you please add ” No. you must do it this way.”

IMAGE_061 res

The “Tr1 purple” from Chirayu hospital to Abruti Eco – an estate not far from me.

Return to Trilanga by bus. It seems my bus stop is called Vishwar Nagar, although there is a Sivoy nearby.  Is this the Savoi Complex that flashes up on the board?

But I didn’t know that. There are no signs naming the area.

“Trianga.”

He is confused. (I was wrong trianga s close but anoter route

I list nearby names :  12 number? Bawadia Kalan’

“Twenty ….” a car roars past.

“Twenty four?”

“”Twntly ONLY”

“Theek hai”

Trade Fair Old City Bhopal

Trade Fair Old City Bhopal

Part 3 finally

I recognise kamla park, the Moti masjid and the Iqbal museum. If I turn left I it takes me past Raju’s tea stall, GPO Yamada Hospital. At Koh-Gaza Thand crushing through overpass construction.

There had been two  return trips, each on bus TR1 there seems  two routes or companies with subtle differences.

TR1 purple seems its destination is Curayu Hospital   and TR1 says  the Baragh Bus Stand . Tr1 purple called my stop “SB Office “ the other called it the “Collectorate” (although the electric signal in the second bus repeated suggesting there may be an error), but SP office is in the old Collectorate building. Approaching Bitten market with sign “Next stop  10.5 number bus stop”. Some bus stops have now named suburbs,, so there are additional “half stops” along the way.

I return upstairs to a flaking water stained plaster walls bone white tie floor and black wire bench seats. There is an unmistakable smell of phenyl.  Dark cobwebs had from the ceiling musty and water stained.

Once you are known India is easier and helpful. It is finding out what you need is the challenge.

I sense  gesture from behind is in my direction and after a woman leaves a younger man asks me to sit down.  I am intrigued. Except for the band-aid across the middle of his chin he could be Will Smith, they look so much alike!, and the strange delays do have a Men in Black feel about them.

I an an alien in a foreign land.

Then a third man in blue suit plonks down besides him talking for 2 or 3 minute again I wait in silence. .

The young man plays with his mobile eventually asking for my passport.

I give him the copy and then eventually pass him the original.

“You from Australia?” He seems to stare at the details. How many time can he read the numbers what is he checking for?

He slowly reads each page . full of entry stamps for India. I have travelled nowhere else.

“Where else have I stayed?”

There is no attempt to speed up.

Then he makes a call. Then checks my VISA.

I need a letter from the company .

“I gave that to the Indian High Commisiion. That’s is what you need to get a VISA.”

It is all a new process. This is more complicated than getting the Indian VISA in Brisbane.

“”But there is no address.”

I point “That IS the address” pointing to the business letter head. He reads it again. Clearly few people come here to be correctly registered and there are a lot of foreigners (clearly unregistered) here.

By this time I am frustrated. I tell his superior “I do the right thing and you muck me around. “ I tell him I watched a man have a form photocopied and letter written in twenty minutes at anther station. That man had the wrong VISA. I resist the urge to suggest the other station may have been paid for a fake form.

However I am also impressed. Cleary Deepak Nayak is very conscientious. He knows his job although the rules have recently changed. Apparently I am the first to be processed by the new Online registration system.

The world is increasingly computerised, but affron and jute bags hold  files on a water warped long shelf behind him.

I send copies from my lap top across the  officers gmail account which he then prints out.  I also email my passport photo for th new computerised residency certificate.

As Deepak goes out of his way the new computerised process needing documents I have never needed before, a casual man in white collared kameez approaches.

“Australia country?  Mel Gibson … Kylie Miyonge ..”  (Kylie Minogue would probably disapprove his mispronunciation). I am reminded of a “Say G’Day to Australia” poster advertising  oversees study near home.

Returning i am invited to sit when i return a superior immediately calls Deepak to my attention, who after struggling to find my forms piled in a metal cabinet, has me sign fir them and then surprisingly instructs me to   “Go and get a file”

“Kahan” (where?).

“Shops. “ pointing over his shoulder presumably to the stores across the main road. I must replace the used stationary that holds my details.

I return with two files, its finally done.

I walk the old city

“One vote one note”

What does that mean?  There is increasing publicity for citizens to exercise their franchise in the upcoming Lok Sabha elections. I realise later the slogan was used by the BJP Chief Minister, Shivraj Singh Chouhan, during his third successful run at Madhya Pradesh top job.

Festive parade in New Market near the Old City

Festive parade in New Market near the Old City

Reflections

I have returned to Bhopal from Australia many times since. Now known the process is now relatively painless, although I still feel to time consuming.

Reflecting I noticed how I had been watched, especially at Shahpura when I was asked to wait, as officers stood on parade in the evening. During one of my my early stops at Shahpura station I was asked to wait wit no explanation. The kindly paternalistic officer continued working for ten minutes.  He then asked me to leave. Why?

I wondered later if it were an assessment of my character. It is true that at first I was frustrated by the endless contradictions. A system built pre internet required the watchful eye of officers over  local community.

I remember that Emperor Akbar considered Westerners uncivilised – and with good reason. Unaware of the protocols of courtesy, in 1608 Queen Elizabeth incorrectly ordered his titles and, to make things worse, misspelled Akbars name, calling him a laxative. Perhaps my restlessness appeared as challenging. Also, the confusion of procedure meant I (and others) did not know all the papers required.

By the fifth top I was angry, I may have appeared reckless and irresponsible. I have learned when your skin colour or accent differs from the majority you are scrutinised more. The pattern exists world over. You stand out. If you make a mistake it is noticed more.

If Gandhi was right,, we all have a fundamental dignity where there is no place for shame or humiliation. However, in a people where large populations can be excited to mob action, knowing the character of a foreigner has its uses.

Now I have since learned the lesson of quiet reflection. When the endless delays get to me in India I stop, look inward. Ask my body where I am feeling tense and relax.

Om Shanti Shanti Om

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I admit I am not into Hookah bars

23 Friday May 2014

Posted by opus125 in India, Madhya Pradesh

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argrahbar, hookah' hookah bars, India, Madhya Pradesh

Source: Runawayguide.com

I admit I am not into Hookah bars, as it is I don’t smoke. Some of my female business clients had even tainted Agrabah with a reputation of skimpily dressed girls in harem pants.

Now I live only a block away, and just to say I have done it, I entered the Hookah bar. No, there was no harem, in fact not a girl in sight, but up two floors of marble stairs, bordered by yellow rope in place or railings, I found what was effectively a sports bar with wide screen TV set to the latest innings of IPL. A few were smoking and only later was a hookah  set up on a table nearby.

Open toward the street, thatch cane ceilings and subdued hanging lights, the menu promises food delivered to the table in 15 to 20 minutes. The Green salad arrived on time, the delightfully smokey Paneer Seekh (120 rupee) was a little late, but only just.  It was delicious and worth the wait.

Other items include snacks from 60 to 100 rupee or Tandoori Chicken which looked delicious for the non vegetarian. Eight pieces cost 330 rupee, 4 pieces 180. The Green salad was nice but from a a  Australian perspective lacked many greens, being mostly cucumber, grated carrot, and onion but this is very common in India. I am used to lettuce!

For a vegetarian country I often feel Indians don’t eat enough vege’s!

So what was all the fuss about? It seems in my naive ignorance, hookah bars are often the place to get high. I did think looking on that they may make a good bong.

But then I wouldn’t know, I have never even indulged in a cigarette – it all seems such a waste of money! – and the thought of drugs repels me.

Perhaps next time I will need to be careful?

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Reflections on the Maji Mamola Masjid

19 Monday May 2014

Posted by opus125 in India, Madhya Pradesh

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bhopal, India, Madhya Pradesh, maji mamola bhai masjid, mamola bai

Maji Mamola Masjid Bhopal

Maji Mamola Masjid Bhopal

I enjoy walking in Bhopal’s old city. It is not just the tourist spots, like Taj-ul Masjid, the biggest mosque in Asia. Ienjoy the side streets and buildings sometimes overlooked. One is the Maji Mamola Masjid, one of three built by Bhopal’s first woman ‘ruler’.

In summer heat, before the monsoon sweeps the dust from the street, I watched, read the sign, and reflected on my readings of Bhopals history. Why this building stayed in my memory I am unsure. Perhaps, as a historian, I know ghost from history reappear benign and malevolent.

At Independence Bhopal was a largely Muslim state of around 70,000 in seven thousand square kilometers, and famous for mosques, locals tell conflicting histories. Some tell of a successful integration of non Muslims to build Nehru’s dream of a religiously integrated India,  more probably one must revisit the unofficial  reign  of Mamola Bai, consort to Yar, and for 50 years the power behind the throne, the first of five unofficial women Nawab Begum, she is a  testament to positively shape a man’s world.

In 1947, distant religious slogans echoes first from Calcutta, of death to Muslims or Alluha Akhbar and now as 2015 sees a shift in India’s politics  I wonder if the ghosts of Bhopal also offer us guidance.

Maji Mamola Masjid Bhopal

Maji Mamola Masjid Bhopal

When the more powerful British, Marhatta and Mughal warlords slogged it out, Manji Saheba (Revered Mother), as she was known, maintained a just subservient and vassal state. When her husband died, Mahji Mamola headed a 5000 strong army against the half brothers who claimed the throne. She appointed ruler her husband’s oldest 11 year old son, Faiz Mohammad Khan, born to another of Khans wives.  Known for her charity, kindness to the poor and respected as just and fair, she consolidated Bhopal’s fragile authority in a time of social upheaval.

As Major William Bough wrote of her:

“From the account given of her conduct, under the most trying circumstance, it seems difficult to pronounce whether she was most remarkable for the humanity of her disposition, or the excellence of her judgment. She was beloved and respected by all. Her memory is still cherished by the natives, both Hindu and Mahomedan, of Bhopal, and it is consoling to observe, in the example of her life, that, even amid scenes of violence and crime, goodness and virtue, when combined with spirit and sense, maintain that superiority which belongs alone to the higher qualities of human nature; and which, without these, can be permanently conferred by neither title nor station.”

Perhaps her greatest honour came from Pir Ghous Ahmed Shah Gailani, a diret descendant of the Muslim saint, Pir Abdul Qader al-Gailani, who declared her to be Rabia Basri,the second, ensuring the title formerly attested in the Mughal court.

Who was Mamola Bai?

A war prize of matchless beauty, Mamola Bai, soon became Dost Mohammad Khan favourite consort, known for exceptional character. That she was reputed a Brahmin Rajput princess, though a Muslim convert,  was welcomed by neighboring Hindu rulers and she encouraged harmony between the Muslim elite and Hindu locals. Her devotion to the integrity of her step sons rule impressed the Pathans, from whom the Khans descend.

When the traitor Wasl Mohommad Khan, conspired against Faiz Mohommad Khan, sceded almost half of Bhopal to the Peshwars, who then appeased, did not give authority to the traitor. In an act of great kindness, Mamola Bai assisted Wasils widow and daughter, Saleha.

She herself led a force on horseback to occupy Raisen Fort. After defeating the Moghul force she diplomatic use emissaries and gifts persuaded the Moghul emperor to formerly assign Raisen to Bhopal.

Vassal first to the Nizam and then the Mahattas. Her far sighted welcoming of General Thomas Goddard, as he forced his troups through harassing Hindu and Muslim opponents, stood against public opinion. Aware of British growing influence in Bengal, Bombay, Oudh and the south and by securely billeting them in Raisen fort she ensured her kingdoms future security after her death. In 1778, indolent Hayat, her second step son, was Bhopals fourth Nawab, Warren Hastings was Britian’s first Governor General in India, Britain and France were struggling for India’s heartland.  Britains East India Company was attempting to link India’s East and West while suppressing the Mahattas.

So revered was Mamola Bai that fearing she would succumb to illness, Muslim saint Shah Ali Shah prayed for seven days in seclusion, himself dying while Mamola Bai recovered. To this day, Shah Ali Shahs Island tomb is a pilgrimage site in Bhopal Lake.

Island shrine of Muslim saint Shah Ali Shah

Island shrine of Muslim saint Shah Ali Shah

Critics suggest Mamola knew her reclusive step son Faiz Mohommad Khan uninterested in politics, giving herself real power. Faiz became revered as saintly. interested in politics and his successor Hayat was unwilling or incapable. Perhaps another blot on her rule came from her fourth adopted son the Brahmin Chottey Khan known for his ruthlessness. However, after the 1762 death of chief administrator Bijjeh Ram Bhopal saw the violent death of three ministers and the city overrun by the Peshawrs who Mamola Bai wisely bought off with territory and tribute.

in 1776. Mamola Bai adopted four Hindu boys (a tribal Gond, two Aheer, and a Brahmin) converting them to Islam. Whether this was an attempt to show to Muslim subjects her devotion to Islam, Chottey Khans, improvement of administration, modern taxation, facilities and life style was tainted by his aggressive and ruthlessness.  Chottey was appointed minister 17 years later he gave Bhopal needed stability.

Although extending diplomatic and trade ties with Gwalior, Indore and Baroda, better administering mosques and modeled the artistic life to mirror Delhi and Hyderabad,  Chootey’s heavy handedness saw Bhopal again threatened.  First by the maneuverings of Seleha, daughter of the traitor Wasl Mohommad Khan, who then married Nawab Faiz Mohamad Khan.  On his death,  the Bahu Begum, as she was known, refused to accept her husband’s bother, Hayat. Defiant of the woman who raised her, she ran a second court at nearby Islamnagar taunting her former in-laws to defend family honour. This was the same year Mamla controversially showed hospitality to the British. Hayat had even offered to stand down to pacify her for the good of the kingdom.

During the authority of Chottey, she then taunted Dost’s grandson, Shareef Mohomad Khan, to attack this non family usurper:  “If I were a man, I would never allow this Brahmin slave to rule over the family of Dost Mohomad Khan.” She failed to finance a rebellion and later Shareef was defeated in the Battle of Phanda that stained Chottets character for its gorey arrogance that disturbed the Nawab Hayat and showed the aging Momola Bai was losing her grip on power. Afterward, Chottey astutely bought off the ferocious Pindaras, a group of  Muslim Maurauder’s, ensuring Bhopals peace.

In 1794 Chottey died,  two tears before Mamola Bai. She was buried in Grinnor Fort.

I am reminded of the feuding Kaarava’s and Pandava’s families from the Mahabharata. Then, remembering the Khans were Muslim, think of early wars that followed te death of Mohammad that fractured Islam into Shia and Sunni.

Without Mamola Bais guidance, dissent , decline and intrigue followed. Fortunately, the Peshwars were already in decline that the farsighted British alliance would later help.

With all this turbulence, it is amazing to see an artistic heritage that flowered into a city of regular concerts, tribal dance displays, the Tribal Museum as well as 200 hectares displaying India’s diverse tribal life.  While tigers and bears do not roam a few kilometers from the city edge as they did in 1947, Madhya Pradesh boasts jungle reserves, such as Pench, where ‘lived’ Rudyard Kipling’s Mowgli, Baloo and Sher Khan.

I would like to see her as a reflective woman in difficult times, and yet recognise she must have been a woman of action of strong character and action.

Concerned that extremists destroyed girl schools in Pakistan, Urdu poet and journalist,Muslim Saleem  reflected on his childhood in Bhopal, praising Mamola Bai and future women who shaped Bhopal.

“These enlightened (lady) rulers turned Bhopal State into a modern, prosperous, welfare state. They all spoke fluent Persian and Urdu and had learnt some English as well. They established a large number of schools, both for boys and girls, and provided free education. Nawab Sultan Jehan Begum made generous donations to Sir Syed Ahmed Khan for the establishment of Aligarh Muslim University and had the distinction of being its first Chancellor. After her death her son, Nawab Hameedullah Khan, who had graduated from Aligarh, was chosen as the Chancellor. Had those ladies not been educated, had they not encouraged education, both for boys and girls, I would probably have been no more than a kharkar, a cobbler or stone breaker.

Without the encouragement mothers can give, many children, even boys, would drop out of school, leading to an even higher rate of illiteracy. How then could we possibly progress as a nation? You are not only holding back women, you are holding back the nation.”

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We Are Progressing!

24 Thursday Apr 2014

Posted by opus125 in India, Madhya Pradesh

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

gas deliveries, India, indian progress, Madhya Pradesh


Marigolds at the Markets
From fruit wallahs where marigolds pile for benedictions, I was cycling home down past nearby Dana Pani Restaurant,  on the fragmented, monsoon eroded road,  where the weekly red truck met with the waiting crowd of cycles, rickshaws and patient sitters, to collect their allotted bottle of gas.

Gas Collection

The simple puff and whine of a gas flame so essential for Indian cooking where electricity  can be sporadically cut.

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Seeing my camera in hand, a young man, approached all smiles. A whitish rag absorbed the sweat of his brow.  Where my country men would complain of inconvenience, he excitedly pointed to the 9 kg canister strapped to his bike.

Sec 8 (4)res

Nearby , women cranked water into head heavy bottles, where hours before men soaped themselves down to their boxer shorts.

I sensed Joy is in the hope of life’  journey. He raised his voice in the optimism of the moment .

“India is not a poor country. We are progressing!”

sec 8 007

Village Water BhopalOLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

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Today I was nearly thrown from a bus

21 Monday Apr 2014

Posted by opus125 in India, Madhya Pradesh

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Tags

indian buses, Madhya Pradesh

Trilanga Bus stop Bhopal

Today  I was nearly thrown off a bus. Turning a full circle where overpass construction forces bussed to swing round across lanes in peak hour back from the direction they travelled, hitting a drop in on the road side the bus lurched and standing by an open door only a terrified grip held be as my body flew sideways.

Don’t get me wrong. Not all Indian buses are packed as you see in comical scenes from movies, although hanging from doorways is not uncommon. The municipal companies will make people wait for the next transport, but may a smaller bus hang out the door.

I once – and I am not joking – saw a man laying  on a car bonnet hanging on the windscreen wipers at full speed.

Somewhat less eventful, after a foiled attempt at an internet cafe- the phone is not reinstalled  since moving house, come on BSNL its been a week!

I jump on the bus, forced to wait by a car driving on the wrong side, into a hospital in front of the bus stop – pull myself on and have to stand on the step of the bus trying to negotiate as the closing door tries to wipe my backpack off me.

Returning the crush in the bus arches my torso over the top of an old man. poor . Hanging from straps, I am unable to solidly ground my feet. Tip toe on corners I try not to swing, as my backpack collects the old gentleman.

I cast pleading eyes of forgiveness. After about the third time  he looks up palms together, thumbs to his heart in prayer.

Mattress, just up from Trilanga bus sop

Mattress, just up from Trilanga bus sop

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Coping with India’s endless distractions

05 Saturday Apr 2014

Posted by opus125 in India, Madhya Pradesh

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Tags

distractions., India, life purpose, Madhya Pradesh, passion, Sacral Existence

Dairy near Dana Pani, Bhopal

Dairy near Dana Pani, Bhopal

I wake to translucent blue and the rhythm of straw sweeping  across concrete like the rhythm of sunlight glistening on morning leaves.

From walls of stained grimey white wash. I watch my neighbour dutifully  dusting, shuffling cushions and peering almost piously down from her veranda.  The growing neighbourly calls to fast for me to decipher.

Already I feel  a sense of loss – already I am returning before I leave. Somehow the endless ridiculous delays mean again all my projects pause before I return to Australia.  I need a go to person – a reliable fix it man.

There are too many big picture people here who see others are just there to do the manual labour under a facade of paternalism.

Advity says the project manager is not playing power games, but I disagree. He is but it is such a habit he doesn’t even know it.

It is also a distraction. The endless answering another ignoring the life that is in front of you. It drives me crazy. Except, its also like my life. A hundred little goals to finish that distract me from my purpose. I must do this first and then …. Then there is little time for what matters. The endless advertising for distracted minds, grasping  minds that take us from investing time and money where it matters. So I am short changed, trapped until another pay cheque

So what am I Avoiding?

Meditation Cell, Kala caves north of Pune, Maharashtra

Meditation Cell, Kala caves north of Pune, Maharashtra

As Romano was our first volunteer there were teething problems for which we are grateful for every ones patience.

Romano’s good English (his native language is German), and Advity and Ranbirs high class Indo-British are confused by idioms.

He too was frustrated. He travelled to India because he wanted to make a difference. To use his practiced expertise.

He was stonewalled

“Bry” Advity had said to me “I want to you to meditate all this week. To be sure of your passion.”

Then obstacles won’t matter.

 

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Where Indian Ocean meets Bhopal

16 Sunday Mar 2014

Posted by opus125 in India, Madhya Pradesh

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Bharat Bhavan Bhopal, India, Indian Ocean, IndianOceanBandeh, Madhya Pradesh

indian ocean bandeh

A concert at Bhopal’s Bharat Bhavan is a stark contrast to a cacophanic mungfest of slacker rock bands in Brisbane’s Fortitude Valley.

Where nubile bimbettes, swagger barely legal in miniskirts and trip over their flesh in high heels, I find in Bhopal whole families along with grandma await the performance of Indian Ocean Bande.

Instead of defending alcohol fuelled perceived slights of honour over some girl “grindin on my ex boyfriend”, the only annoyance is the shuffling of chairs stood and blocking others view. Two large screens offer a modern looking youth, a better view in the grassed lawn and courtyard below.

They are a trendy crowd with cultured hair and beards. Girls are dressed both modern or traditionally in kirti.

The concert starts on Indian time – nearly an hour after the time we were told to arrive. Posters advertise events here, but online advertising of Bhopal’s many masterful performances is poor. Bhopal city boasts the open air Indira Gandhi Rashtriya Manav Sangrahalaya (IGRMS), a laid back 200 acre open air tribal anthology, then next door is the artistic Tribal Museum, and  the State Museum  and a zoo all overlooking Bhopal’s 38 hectare Upper Lake. An hour east, Emperor Ashoka rested Buddha’s remains in Sanchi, and south Bhimbetka displays some of mans oldest cave art.

With so little promotion online we arrived expecting a tribal dance concert! Instead were in for an Indo-rock fusion of jazz-spiced rhythms full of shlokas, sufism, environmentalism, revolution and mythology.

We didn’t mind. My Swiss companion, a volunteer at a local organic farm, and I were to be newly initiated in this wonderful music.

When I retuned home, my business partners, Indian Ocean aficionados, were jealous of our luck. If only they had known.

Bharat_Bhawan Bhopal

Inaugurated by Indira Gandhi in 1982, the Bharat Bhavans two domes, cascade around terraced gardens that carve the contours of the landscape without traditional symbols of Indian art. An  open-air amphitheatre , or Bahirang, a studio theatre Abhirang, an auditorium, or Antarang, a museum tribal and folk art, libraries of Indian poetry offer ample spaces for discussion, research, fine art workshops, music both classical and folk along with an artist in residence.

I had first visited the complex in 2012, enjoying flute and Sitar recitals and then the Independence Day concert on August 15.

There is so much art and craft to see in Bhopal and as I wait I check out the spacious gallery designed by Charles Correa. It seems almost a little too big, but then I decide to return again when I am not rushing to enjoy a concert.

Sauntering to another display I allow my mind to settle. It is as if and soon the room began to breathe. I am  stunned by a wonderful gallery of Tribal art.

If only they had allowed me to use my camera. Oh well, next time.

Now back to the music!

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Bhopal Tribal Museum Renewed

25 Tuesday Feb 2014

Posted by opus125 in India, Madhya Pradesh

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Adivasi, India, Indira Gandhi Rashtriya Manav Sangrahalaya, Madhya Pradesh, Madhya Pradesh Tribal Museum. Bhopal Tribal Museum

Tribal Museum

I have returned to the Tribal Museum with renewed appreciation. Now completed, with ongoing touch us, I am delighted by the ongoing transformation.

I fist observed the gallery as it grew during past visits to the nearby State Museum. Then although officially opened last June, the impressive gallery was still incomplete but perhaps waiting a few finishing touches had left me feeling the main gallery was a little to much like a Tribal Disneyland. (For my earlier review Click Here).

Six months later  my reservations are overturned.

tribalIMG_0062

To again see the Tribal Museum again; its living green roof, the C-shaped arching circumference and once again I see excited students  reminded me why I return to Bhopal , With a group of mostly senior girls with matching kurti –dupatta, their hair hanging  (1 – 11 standard ware obligatory pigtails), we entered past Gond reminiscences of the Namada’s tribal history.

The aesthetic approach of the gallery recognises archetypal unconscious expressions of a people still in touch with nature and with each other. In contrast to the static sculpture  of the next door  State Museum ,in the Tribal Museum you are immured  in an ongoing  collective recreation by the Advaisic community.   A return to nature devoid of corporation.

tribalmuseumIMG_0076

In the first gallery a massive  banyan tree sprouting from a map of Madhya Pradesh. The Lit by large earthen pots, ramps take you through roots reaching  unbounded  to the vast ceiling, welcoming  you to the states tribal landscape .

The second  you feel of geographic space as traditional open courtyard adjoins the house fronts  of different communities. Life has changes from thatched leaf to tiled roofs in the last 50 to 70 years, yet the  walls with clay and colours depict Gond women’s kitchen work by a  huge grain storage container of a type used by Gonds used to partition rooms in a home.

The woodcut smell of the vihar mandap (marriage canopy) of the aesthetics gallery there is  no art distinct from tribal life, both human body and tools of life are a canvass of expression. Even a broom is a piece of art.  Music is intimately connected to nature. The intricate rhythms of the ‘Bana”, a percussion instrument, are told in the Gonds story of Badadev residing in Saja tree and making a Bana from  it.

I felt more at home in this display on this visit. As women were touching up the paint work nearby, I realized the gallery felt more complete and harmonious, lI had earlier felt the room was a cartoonish mishmash of Tribal symbols. Is it the room or myself that has changed?

Tribal Repairs

 Under four trees for each of four tribes, the marriage canopy symbolizes the marriage of earth and sky> Humans and animals were created by deities like Mata Ashtangi or Badadevv but it is earth and sky hat sustains them.

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We are invited to experience the phases of tribal life with its festive songs , cosmetics and agriculture.  Under four trees for each of four tribes, the marriage canopy symbolizes the marriage of earth and sky. Humans and animals were created by deities like Mata Ashtangi or Badadev but it is earth and sky hat sustains them.

Man is linked to nature by tattooed terracotta mannequin. A lattice is made of jewelry and cosmetic hues.

Tribal Museum

In tribal marriages a tree branch is witness of the power of earth and an invocation to fertility.  A wedding pillar of sathe wood made without joints like a spire. A drum scene awakens the earth. .

Each level of the canopy reveals a different angle to life: The lower floor highlights traditional customs, the first the seasonal festival cycle in grained in trees and the sky myth of earth and sun on the top level

Also terra cotta images are dedicated to souls of the dead reveal Bhil ritual as if grounded to the earth.

A prominent bracelet, reminds us that a small unworn bracelet or ring offered a new daughter in law .It is  In grained with important symbols of productivity such as a well, stairwell, a farmer, field or a ploughing pair of bullocks.

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As we entered the Tribal Devlok is entered through a hall called the Story of Tool Making.

Romano, a Swiss organic farmer volunteering in Bhopal was impressed.

“So a lot of things you can see here” speaking in an English translated from German thought. “It is so nice. I think some museum something her. One thing there. But everywhere is tribal. So much detail.”

He is right, since the Tribal Museum is an experience and not just a gallery.  The Devlock twinkles as if under a starry sky with the deities of MP and of Bastar.  Its corridor of thorns  are a reminder to bear life’s pains  unmoved.

Pithora  bapdi ancestor god

Tribal’s would avoid a concrete place of worship so symbolic shorthand attempts to suggest unlimited possibilities of time and space evoking   good and bad spirits of jungles, ponds, rivers, and hills.. It is as if  inanimate stone breathes of wandering ancestors. It remind’s us of roadside terracotta offerings, amidst jungles, on the bank of a small pond or n invisible boundary of village. A raw stone, a fluttering flag, a stick, a pillar, trident, earthen lamp as if the earth comes from another plane chained to the deities power.

They beseech a saviour god to protect seed, return strayed cattle or cure disease.

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For example, passing the white Chattisbargh State display (formerly part of Madhya Pradesh), alongside a a potters street with tools, blacksmiths and goldsmiths, we see the place of  Shitala Mata.  The  principle deity of the Bastar region , she  known by different names depending in how she is invoked.  A patient with chickenpox may worship her offering a pockmarked terracotta elephant figure.  On day 3 or 5 a paste of turmeric is applied.

For other diseases and troubles the god is invoked as Jimidarin.

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Also aborbing was the Place of Babdev , a dedicated mound of symbolic animals, tools and pots. There is no idols but a stone in the midde in the name of Babdev and Nahar {lion).  Twice each year, at Diwali and Divasa, the whole village is arrives with cocks, goats, vermillion and horse figurines built up over the years.

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Aftewards, check out the the fun and innocence of children’s Rakku Tribal Games display.

Games include Chaupad,  a checkers like board game requiring mathematic skills and that should be  played in schools.

Kil.lo, played by Baiga children, a cross between snooker or pool with a stick to hit crescent lil.lo’s with a Damaha , or strike, 12 to 15 feet away. First you must hit the straight only, then the crescent, targets, after they are layered like a fort. When the target is truck a collective cry of lil.lo is raised.

Girls may like Ghar Gahr. During the festival of Diwali houses are whitewashed so children play house, making their own, much as a western child may make a dolls house.

Downstairs

 However, I need to suggest a few improvements:

Down stairs chai wallah was closed. So, unlike my earlier visits last year, resting to enjoy a longer stay was therefore discouraged. We had to leave the gallery for restaurant beside the outside courtyard. Here, Chai was serve from a thermos and a sign states food requires tickets bought from the Media Centre .

What or where the Media Centre is remains unsigned.

The book store, of books hung in wall baskets quiet artistically has only Hindi books. I understand this is entirely appropriate in the Museums endeavour to encourage Hindustani’s to appreciate tribal life. However, Bhopal is also marketed to International tourists. A Gallery guide, also in English, would be gratefully received by tourists. However, when leaving we were offered a tourist fold out brochure. It would have been useful for tourists before visiting the displays.

Also, there is no specific catalogue of the display, so you must write furiously if you want to remember any of the quality information available with each gallery.

For that matter even postcards would be a good way to promote the gallery and allow visitors to remember their experience. Tribal nick-nacks, should be available for purchase. I believe there is a market as demonstrated by a recent trip to Brisbane, Australia, where a travelling display of Meena tribal art from Rajasthan promoted art designs on raw cloth.  I imagine this could similarly be sold in Bhopal.

I am also surprised that even at the Indira Gandhi Rashtriya Manav Sangrahalaya, or (IGRMS,  (200 hectares of Tribal recreated villages, and indigenous technology) tribal crafts are not marketed more enthusiastically. The best supplier of genuine  tribal craft is Tribes India. There are three stores in Bhopal and one in Indore. I recently bought some superb  yak wool vests at a remarkably good price. Tribal goods could also be sold at the Tribal Museum.

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