Humayun's Tomb: How has it's utility changed over time?

Delhi is full of architectural structures, many of which have disappeared over time. The few which remain have witnessed so many events that each of them has acquired a unique story of its own. 

 "Delhi was once a paradise,

  Where love held sway and reigned,

  But its charm has ravished now.

  And only ruins remain"

   -Bahadur Shah Zafar 

However, only a few strive to invest time and effort to understand their relevance. For most visitors and residents, these structures serve as a ‘tourist’ spot.

Few chosen structures were built and rebuilt for aesthetic appeal. Certainly, lack of information about their significance is lamented by a few people. Most of the information about their past is available in tourist pamphlets or provided by tour guides, but more often than not, it’s misinformation. Significantly, the history of how a space acquires importance as an attraction is not discussed. Perhaps, in case of India, heritage places might prove to be exceptions, but these narratives are not part of public discussion. 

In an era of digitally capsuled information, investing effort to learn more is an art. Observing a site for beyond its visual appeal is a skill. While online websites such as Sahapedia try to share snippets of information, the whole history of a place is often hidden from public knowledge. Perhaps, I can explain this better with an example of a popular site, namely, Humayun's Tomb.

                                                 

                                                                      Humayun's Tomb

It is common knowledge that the famous necropolis was commissioned by the Mughal Emperor Humayun’s Persian wife Bega Begum as his burial ground. Its origin story is an interesting fact in itself. If looked at from a personality-centric view, it is an example of a woman achieving material success in a patriarchal-patrimonial society. She belongs to an age that came before royal females institutionalized into a harem (Mukhoty). Her life gave insight into the nomadic lifestyle of early Mughal royals.

The Mughals were aware of architecture’s potential as means of self-representation and as an instrument of power (Koch). Therefore, the Tomb ensured that the life of Humayun would be remembered and the personality of Bega Begum would be celebrated. Over centuries many members of the royal family found their resting place within the complex, including the ill-fated Mughal prince Dara Shikoh. 

Beyond the scope of personalities, from an architectural view point, it serves as a precedent for Indo-Islamic school of architecture in India. Inspired from Gur-e-Amir, it inspired monuments such as the Taj Mahal.  

Humayun’s Tomb’s legacy did not end at its origin tale. Over the years, it has acquired new meanings due to different events.

For instance, it became a site that witnessed the moment when Mughal Empire died. Humayun’s Tomb is the spot where the last Mughal Emperor Bahadur Shah Zafar was captured before being exiled to Rangoon (Rumi). It also became a site for refugee camps in the aftermath of 1947 Partition. Muslim refugees used It as a place for respite before being relocated to new destinations (Kidwai). 

Faced with so many facts, the question remains, how are we supposed to negotiate such spaces in the present while trying to find meaning from the past?

                                                                                                         "Unfold your own myth"-Rumi

Humayun’s Tomb has been reduced to a beautification project, with most visitors using it as a photo-op. For instance, wedding photography companies often advertise it as a backdrop for shoots. Whether through state patronage (such as A.S.I. and Aga Khan Trust) or by lifestyle portals (like Lonely Planet), it has been reduced to a commercial site.   

However, we can respond to such a reductionist strategy with a better approach. The story of monuments like the Humayun's Tomb is just as rich as its calligraphed walls. The events it witnessed give insight to the construction of socio-cultural identities in Delhi. It’s reconstruction gives insight into the new forms of hierarchy that are being formed around heritage sites. The question we need to ask ourselves is, 'Won't it be a more pleasurable experience to be more informed about a site that we are visiting?' 

 As Carlo Ginzburg once said, "history is like a truffle. It's delicious, but truffles should be eaten by everyone, not just a select few." We should actively participate in making history accessible.

Beyond using it as a instagram post, being more aware about historical sites, can simply enhance the pleasure of experiencing the past coming to life. Just allowing our imagination to think of the predicament of refugees or the grit of Bega Begum while sitting in the gardens of Humayun's Tomb can allow us to experience the site in a whole new light. Perhaps, we can try to do the same with lesser known sites such as Ghalib's Haveli and muse about them by placing them on a larger canvas.  

Beyond Shades of Race

India has been identified as the second most racist country, in many popular forums, including the World Value Survey. While the survey in itself is controversial, to say the least, it is not a surprising claim. It is not surprising, because sitting in the capital city, we witness and demonstrate racist behavior on a daily basis, but also claim that it is an outdated dialogue. 

Whether it’s the violent attack carried out against students emigrating from Africa or labelling someone with pale skin as a foreign tourist, this city demonstrates ill-informed opinion consistently. Racial identification, in a reminiscent of caste or class identification, has become an omnipresent yet uncomfortable topic, rarely discussed at length in ‘polite company’. 

Racism can be defined as perceiving biological characteristics within societal hierarchies. It begs the question, how are these hierarchies formed? Are these categories constantly changing? Or are they a static product of post-colonialism (states living with the legacy of colonialism)? 

Any implication of racial discrimination that may rise from racial profiling is attributed to social conditioning or a ‘no harm, no foul’ attitude. To what extent does this attitude rise from intersectionality of spatiality, economic accessibility and historical precedents?

A request to look beyond racial identity.

Racial categories existed before colonialism, such as mleccha (non-Vedic residents) being used, way back in 600 BCE. However, it seems that racial identities have changed over time. Identities are constructed through processes of negotiation and discourses. (Nayar,2006) Colonial forms of knowledge production clearly influenced this trend of thought. For instance, is it truly a coincidence that past spatial segregation of racial categories have similarities with regionally derived identities? Ask yourself, when you think of an individual from a particular area in India or elsewhere, do you think of a few biological characteristic that can define them? Is there a particular skin tone that is linked to a geographical location? Isn’t it an incorrect and reductionist approach? 

While attempting to subvert a projection my own failings to create a better, albeit a generalized understanding of racism in India, I  reached the conclusion that I should share my own blatant racist comments. 

                                     

One of the earliest memories I have of being racist, is when a cousin of mine was visiting India. While travelling, incidentally she had acquired a significant tan, and I bluntly asked her, “Why have you become so dark?” I felt uncomfortable that I had such a thought, but it did not occur to me how offensive that particular remark could be, until 15 years later, in a similar context, I was asked the same question from a relative. 

                                                      

Another example of my disdainful racist attitude was when in a conversation about cultural differences, a Dane pointed out my ignorance by sarcastically commenting, ‘so you don’t think I am brown enough?’ At that point, I didn’t know that he was of Arab descent or that it is possible for someone outside of South Asian descent to recognize themselves as brown. When I reflect on that conversation, I can draw the conclusion, that my understanding was based on the assumption that citizens of Nordic countries are most likely to be white.

                                                          

In the past two decades, I have come across many members of the Indian diaspora and I used to find it quite annoying whenever they brought up the topic of being ‘confused’ about their identity or when few of them stated that they didn’t consider themselves ‘brown enough or white enough’. I would chalk it up to an apologist behavior, where members of developed countries would use their identity as a means to play the victim card. The maximum amount of sympathy they garnered was when they recounted their experience of discrimination at the hands of majoritarian communities, not realizing that racist attitudes exist across racial spectrum and by equating privilege with a particular region, I was erasing racial identity, thus adding a tag of affluence with a race, associated with a particular region. 

                                                                 

Underwhelmingly, the only politically correct solution I have arrived at, is to avoid labels and allow an individual to define who they are, irrespective of what might be the instinctive categorization. This approach can certainly be perceived as passive and neglectful of decades of discrimination. 

Of course, I’ve experienced racism as well, directly and indirectly, such as being called exotic or being subjected to a misguided attempt of locating my diction with my geographic origin. My first encounter with the idea of social hierarchy based on skin tone was in school. A couple of female friends had confided in me that they felt discriminated against on account of the color of their skin. My reaction was a mix of perplexity and outrage, why would someone be ill-treated on the basis of their skin color? Doubts were put to rest when a countrywide backlash happened against the now infamous Fair and Lovely ad campaign. Clearly, a social hierarchy created on the basis of features is existing in our surroundings.   

While it’s contested whether we are living in post-colonial era, we are certainly living in the era of decolonization, which includes questioning the racial and evolutionary bases of power. (Mallon,2011) In India regions and race are aligned. Categorization of identity are built around their presumed ‘unique’ conditions. However, a collective one takes away the sheer singularity of individual suffering. (Nayar,2006) Essentially, violence can be carried out, through the prism of racist category but pain is unique to an individual’s suffering. Certainly, reducing someone’s identity to a particular category is disdainful. Categorization might be a useful tool to understand the world around us, but it’s prudent to not let a particular impression limit our understanding. Let’s look beyond the cover, shall we?

Partition: Burden of Memories

A recent conversation with a fellow history enthusiast, sparked a comment, " Every South Asian Historian has to walk through the hallowed grounds of partition before they embark on their own chosen path of research."

Reflecting back on this statement prompted me to examine my own journey through stories and facts about partition and the common theme (or how I feel it, the common fragrance) of nostalgia for a pre-partition era that reverberates through its records. Simultaneously, sifting through Malhotra's Remnant of Separation (2017) aggravated this desire and I felt the need to pen my thoughts.

                                                (Photo- Malhotra's book in the background)

I first read about partition of British India in my school textbooks. Unlike many families, belonging to South Asia, mine did not have a bank of memories associated with it, so it was soon lost in time and didn't create a significant impact. However, when I encountered it again during my graduate studies, all of a sudden, it transformed from an event to a concept. Most institutions of South Asian studies, across academic discplines, include partition studies as a focal point. Viewing it through the lens of historiography, ideas about migration, gendered violence, elite and subaltern manoeuvre jumped from pages into the imagination of an impressionable mind.

If compared, it would be a fair conclusion to draw that this event has witnessed the production of more literature than any other South Asian historical event. Multiple schools of historians have been intrigued and inspired to carry out research on it. From a plethora of studies, focused on the Nehru-Jinnah dilemma, Ayesha Jalal's (1994) work sprung out as a succinct analysis of elite politics. Urvashi Butalia's (1998) seminal work acted as a catalyst for a feminist analysis of the tragedy. Following closely on its heel, Vazira Zamindar's (2007) book highlighted the repercussions of this monumental event, felt after seven decades as well. Before these factual recordings, writers such as Saadat Hasan Manto and movies such as Garam Hawa voiced the emotion felt by survivors and captured the mixed feelings of pain, betrayal, resignation and nostalgia for a bygone era.

I would not have truly understood these emotions, if I had not stumbled into the opportunity to speak to a few survivors first hand. History of independent India has a unique advantage, it is possible to interact with it's witnesses. With the advent of digital archival projects such as, 1947 Partition and Citizens Archive of Pakistan, multiple enthusiasts have been given the opportunity to unravel this event. Following suit, I indulged in conversations with generations of survivors. It will be difficult to cover all the conversations but to provide snippets-
     
                                                                                  *

The old auto driver, who migrated from Lahore to Delhi recalled the day-long, cheap tonga (horse-ridden carriages) he and his family took from Chandini Chowk to Qutub Minar, a respite from his traumatic memories.

                                                                                  *

The old lady from Amritsar who recalled the envolped warmth feeling of growing up amidst the chaotic by-lanes of Amritsari Kinari bazaar (market).
                                                                       
                                                                                  *

The joy an exiled ex-journalist felt when he re-visited his home in a village Shujabad, Multan. He recorded his story in his book 'Pakistan mai waqt se Mulaqat' ( Pakistan- A meeting with time, 2013)
                                                                     
                                                                                  *

The anguish a teenager felt when he witnessed his city being torn apart by gendered genocide.

                                                                                  *

The feeling of confusion a grandson felt whenever he heard stories from his grandfather about pre-partiton India. The anguish a nephew felt when he realized his aunt's story might not recieve the same level of recognition due to identity politics, since they identified themselves as Anglo-Indian.
                              
                                                                                   *

Collective confusion felt by a group of Sindhi chidren when they were forced to abandon their resident in Karachi and sail to Bombay.

                                                                                  *

Through all these stories and all these conversations, I could not resonate or make sense of this anguished past, that my people faced. How was I supposed to make sense of their pain? Or reconcile with this reality and view it objectively?

That is when I came across Aanchal Malhotra's book. It proved be a guide book on empathy and reconciliation and encompassed the common goal that could prove as a healer for those who were affected by partition- There is a pressing need to listen and bridge the gap. She manages to sensitively cover the salient message- almost all survivors live with the pain of being bereft from their homeland, with which they attached emotions of safety. Those who migrated, could not wash away the identity of being a muhajeer, stripped from a intrisinc life choice. Her book records how survivors held on their emotional memories through material objects and it provides a nuanced insight into the familiar feeling of nostalgia. However, more imporantly, it encouraged an important message, that will hold true for most survivors of communal violence- it is so important as a community, for us, to come together, allow survivors to have the dignity of speaking their story and provide them with a healing, compassionate environment.

It seems that through most of the studies on partition, the voice of people has managed to resonate. As opposed to elite perspective, it has provided more scope for subaltern and humane interpretation than other themes. It continues to shape nations, in invisible ways, even after seven decades. I suppose, it will remain alive through the works of scholars and memories in the future as well.