Paintepur, Pathos and Pain: A Muharram in the Memory of My Grandfather

In Paintepur, near Lucknow, the procession used to start when Julakhan, a Dalit, used to bring forward his taziya.

As the question of remembrance, memory and mourning over the incidents of Karbala looms large in these days of mourning I recount here the proceedings of Muharram in Paintepur (a village near Lucknow).

(Image: The Quint/@Aroop Mishra)

Can pain truly be owned possessed, quantified or shared? As the month of Muharram commences, the world once again begins to recall, remember and vows never to repeat the tragedy of Karbala.

As the question of remembrance, memory and mourning over the incidents of Karbala looms large in these days of mourning, I recount here the proceedings of Muharram in Paintepur (a village near Lucknow, Uttar Pradesh). The Muharram proceedings of Paintepur bloom fresh in the mind of my grandfather.

My 83 years old Nana (maternal grandfather) recites an Awadhi Marsiya (elegy) which he used to read half-a-century ago at his native place in Paintepur. His eyes begin to water and voice starts to shiver. I hear him recite the lamentation for two martyred sons of Imam Hussain, which goes:

Kon dagar me dhoondhan jaun, (Which way should I go to look for you)

Lallan tumhe kaise paun, (How do I reach you beloved child)

Apni bipat main kaike sunaun, (How do I convey my pain)

Akbar more Asghar more (O my Akbar O my Asghar)

I am transported to the days of the Muharram in the 1960s and 1970s when people belonging to all castes, sects and creeds came together to mourn the pain and remember the sacrifice of Imam Hussain in 680AD. 

In one such Muharram proceeding, fresh in the mind of my grandfather, a Dalit mourner used to lead the taziya procession on the 10th of Muharram.

'People From All Religions Participated in Tazia Processions'

People belonging to all religious backgrounds and social strata participated in this procession. This gives us an insight into the lost world where the multi-cultural fabric of the Indian subcontinent came forth.  

Imam Hussain and his faith, determination and sacrifice has inspired all. When Mahatma Gandhi said, “The power of faith to him (Imam Hussain) is the greatest force which regards all material force as nothing. This sacrifice is a beacon light of guidance for every community and every nation”, he clearly meant that Imam Hussain belonged to all humanity. 

Taziya procession at Paintepur, c. 1970.

(Photograph: Dr Lubna Irfan)

An important part of the Muharram rituals in the Indian subcontinent is the making and display of taziyas, which are usually symbols and replicas of the original tombs of the martyrs of Karbala.

In the village of Paintepur, in the l960s and 1970s, on the 10th of Muharram, taziyas from around 22 nearby villages used to come in processions and were buried in an open ground known as Karbala.

These taziyas were an expression of the skill, finesse and craftsmanship of the artistes. Some of these art forms have long vanished and a glimpse can only be seen in the surviving photographs.

Fine workmanship on a taziya at Paintepur. c. 1970

(Photograph: Dr Lubna Irfan)

'Julakhan, a Dalit, Used to Lead Tazia Procession in Paintepur'

Among the stories narrated by my grandfather, one that left me amazed was that of Julakhan. 

In the village of Paintepur, there were several public squares (chowks) where taziyas were kept before the beginning of the procession on the 10th of Muharram.

The procession used to start when Julakhan, a Dalit, used to bring forward his taziya. The rest of the mourners used to follow his lead. These processions were associated with mourning, lamentation, matam, noha-khwani etc.

My grandfather remembers, how Julakhan had once refused to take out his taziya as due to certain land redistribution, the old route of the procession was not to be followed.

The respect for Julakhan was such that nobody else took the lead.

The matter reached the police, who also tried to convince Julakhan to lead the procession along a new route. But it was a matter of tradition for Julakhan, who refused to budge. The old route was, at that moment, covered with ripe wheat plantation which would have been partly destroyed if a procession passed through it.

Julakhan would heed no advice, he would either take his taziya along the old traditional route or not at all. Finally, the police and elders of the village were able to convince the owner of the wheat farm to allow Julakhan to take his taziya through the full grown wheat plantation.

My grandfather recalls how his father, being one of the village elders, offered to pay for the damage done to the wheat crop due to Julakhan’s procession. To this, the owner of the farm replied that the particular farm through which Julakhan took his procession bore the best harvest and he bore no loss.

'Space to Mourn Has Now Shrunk'

These stories form the heart of the Indian culture, where a Dalit stood ground to express his reverence to Imam Hussain and his sacrifice and the world had to adjust to his assertion.

This standing his ground, this assertion, was also mourning, an expression of how he remembered and experienced the pain of a man who died 1,400 years ago, in a distant land fighting for truth.

It needs to be mentioned here that mourning can take many ways, forms and colours. Mourning can be in silence or in loud lamentations; mourning of the craftsmen - who patiently put together the taziyas, remembering Imam Hussain with each piece they joined - is no less than the mourning of the women, who tear up on hearing the name of Ali Asghar (the youngest martyr of Karbala, a baby whose neck was pierced by an arrow).

People mourn in their own ways and as understood from the above mentioned story, our society gave space to people to mourn in their own ways.  

Taziya procession on the 10th of Muharram at Paintepur, c. 1970.

(Photograph: Dr Lubna Irfan)

This space, however, has shrunk. The time of the 1960s and 1970s, which lives fresh in the mind of my Nana, is now long gone. The divide and animosity between Shia-Sunni has eaten up the whole society to its roots.

'Can the Pain of Imam Hussain Be Limited to the Hearts of the Elite?'

Hatred lives on both sides of the divide and it begets only pain. Where is the world, where a staunch Sunni like my grandfather could recite and cry on reading the Alvida, which was read when the taziyas were buried in Karbala on the 10th of Muharram.

As I sat with him listening to these stories of his watan, I wonder how safe and at home he must have felt reciting the Alvida (Farewell) -

Rann me kehta tha Zehra ka Pyaara (Beloved of Zehra was saying in the battlefield)

Mujh Musafir ki aaj Alvida hai. (I, the traveller, bids farewell today)

- in a field surrounded by taziyas, full of people mourning and remembering Imam Hussain. 

As the world again remembers and mourns the sacrifice of Imam Hussain, the questions that come to my mind are, whether Imam Hussain and his memory belong to only a select few?

Are those, who do not know the proper etiquette of Majalis (gatherings), not sincere in their love for the Imam? Can the pain of Imam Hussain be limited to the hearts of the elite? Is Imam Hussain not alive in the heart of the Dalit Julakhan?

(Dr. Lubna Irfan is an Assistant Professor at the Department of History in Aligarh Muslim University. This is an opinion piece. The views expressed above are the author’s own. The Quint neither endorses nor is responsible for them.)