Hri Institute for Southasian Research and Exchange

BY: HAROON KHALID

We enter a hall, replete with a rich collection of posters, gramophone records and other archival material. The owner of the house, Tahir Yazdani asks us to wait and disappears into an adjacent room. Returning with a small bottle of etar, a traditional Arabic perfume, he dabs a little on our wrists. “This is a traditional way of welcoming guests,” he adds. “This organic perfume has the same smell but would react differently to different skins and give a different smell altogether,” he continued.

Situated in the heart of Gulberg, long considered the elite locality of Lahore, Yazdani’s house is an interesting combination of the old and the new. The exterior walls are colourful, in tune with traditional methods, and stand in contrast to the more modern but sombre surroundings. Inside, a wooden balcony collected from the historical city Bhera in Punjab has been used to make the portal which leads into the living part of the house, which is a modern construction. Next to the lawn is the workshop, where carpenters and artisans work on other old wooden doors, abandoned by their original owners. These workshops renovate them, ready for use again. “Bhera [an ancient city about 200 km from Lahore] was known for its wood work,” says Yadzani. Even if one takes a walk around the city today, one would notice several old wooden balconies and doors, intricately carved and designed slowly passing over to oblivion. “If you go to the Lahore Museum, the first item that appears is a door from Bhera,” says Yazdani.

The ground floor of Yazdani’s house is entirely taken over by his collection. “Well, I am archiving actively since the past 18 years, but professionally I would say about seven years ago. I began with terracotta figures,” he says. A glass showcase contains his collection of terracotta figurines and objects, some of them from the Indus valley civilization dating back to the 4th Century BCE. Next to them is another collection more recent items of glass, porcelain pottery, pipes, matchboxes, etc from the 19th and early 20th century. On the wall facing the showcase there is a collection of pre-partition photographs of Zoroastrian and European families from Lahore. Underneath them hang traditional clothes from far-flung areas of the country. “Another aim is to preserve the living culture of indigenous people. These are the communities from Cholistan, Kalash, Kashmir and Balochistan. We commission them to make traditional dresses, baskets and carpets, which we then sell in the markets of Lahore. The profit is used for the uplift of the communities,” says Yadzani. As he says this I notice a handmade Persian carpet placed on the floor, underneath our chairs.

A handcrafted Brass, Coal fired Hammam

“Some years ago a few of us enrolled in the PhD program of Conservation at the National College of Arts (NCA),” he says. “However they didn’t tell us at that point that they didn’t even have enough faculty within the college to teach. And now we are stuck; having completed a few courses but not being able to complete the degree as the Higher Education Commission (HEC) would not allow NCA to give us the degrees. The battle is going on,” he says. While still studying for the program Yazdani’s thesis was focused on Sustainable Heritage through tourism. Even though he was never able to work on it academically, he was able to collaborate with a local businessman to put into action what he was planning to do for his doctoral thesis. Together they set up Andaaz Restaurant, situated in the heart of Taxali gate, part of the ancient walled city of Lahore. At night the restaurant has a splendid view of the bulb-like white domes of the Badshahi Mosque, constructed by the Mughal Emperor Aurangzeb. Behind it is the historical market of courtesans and dancers, the Heera Mandi.

The restaurant is decorated with several items from Yazdani’s archive. The ground floor houses a collection of old Pakistani film posters, furniture, a gramophone, a type writer and antique furniture. Along the staircase that leads to the rooftop restaurant, there are several jars placed behind showcases, old rupees from the earlier years of the country, a calligraphy collection, miniatures and paintings. Yazdani also established ‘The Lahore Heritage Club’ to work towards the conservation, preservation, and management of the rich cultural heritage of Lahore and Pakistan.

Yazdani buries himself in a huge trunk, carefully picking out books and slowly placing them on the ground. Most of them are in a bad condition; rusty brown, a few pages or covers missing. “This is my collection of historical books. Some of these books are 400 years old. These are books in Sanskrit, Persian, handwritten manuscripts in Arabic and Punjabi as well. I have a lot of literature on Guru Granth Sahib, the holy Sikh book,” he adds. “Some foreign conservatives go into a shock when they look at the way I preserve these books. You shouldn’t touch them with bare hands they warn me. I laugh. I tell them that we were preserving books even when there were no modern techniques. I combine the traditional and modern methods of preservation. I use neem leaf, which when dried is an insecticide. I occasionally take the books out into the sun, which is important,” he explains.

“One day is not enough to show all of my collections,” he says. He once again disappears into the room from where he had brought the etar and emerges with a box. “This is my collection of coins,” he says. Neatly compartmentalised, this is a collection of coins from antiquity up to the present day. “You can find coins from the time of Shahjahan in here and also from the early days of Pakistan,” he explains.

Tahir Yazdani’s ‘The Lahore Heritage Club’ also has a presence on Facebook, using the immense potential of social networking. “It is futile for archivists to work in isolation,” he says. “Look at this gramophone,” he points to a gramophone placed behind his chair. “It is useless without the needle on its tip. Without that it would not be able to play any of the records and all my records would go to waste. Now the problem is that there are no companies who make the needle anymore, which is why I am working on making a network of archivists and interested people. I contacted a person in England, who used to work for a company responsible for the production of these needles. I assured him that I would buy all his needles after which he agreed to make them for me. In this way we were able to put to use our gramophones and records. Similarly I have a network of archivists and collectors in Pakistan and also Southasia and the world over. We talk over the phone regularly and discuss our collections and ways to increase coordination,” he explains.

A Film Magazine from Lahore and Mumbai

Across this room is his small theatre, where he hosts his private screenings of old movies, also part of his collection. “Once in a while I call all my friends and we watch a movie,” he jokes. There is an old projector, placed in the centre of the room, whereas a roll is technically placed around it, by the operator. The movie being played is Baiju Bawra, a blockbuster from the year 1952. “We find a lot of these movies from scavengers, sold to them by different film studios and embassies,” he says.

Yazdani understands the importance of digitizing his archive, which is why since the past few years, he and his team are working on digitizing his material. “We have covered a lot of manuscripts but there is still so much to do.”

As I prepare to leave another guest comes to see Yazdani, asking him if the door he was promised by the evening is ready. It turns out that after renovating the doors Yazdani sells those to rich clients which help him fund his projects. This client is buying a door for his new restaurant.

BY: Haroon Khalid
(Images courtesy Folk Punjab)

In an empty hall, Iqbal Qaiser stops in front of a picture. This is a partially ruined structure, with half of the building destroyed. It now looks like a broken shell from an egg. “This was the smadh of Pero Preman (a Punjabi poetess from the 19^th century). This is the last picture of this building. It has been destroyed now,” says Qaiser. There are several other pictures on the walls of this spacious hall; of temples, Gurdwaras and other historical buildings in ruins. Some of them have already been destroyed; the others are likely to disappear soon. The 55 year old Qaiser is an historian, poet and anthropologist, who has traveled extensively around Punjab, documenting hundreds of non-Muslim shrines lying in ruins. He has been doing this for the past 30 years. His best known work is his book, Historical Sikh Shrines of Pakistan, which documents and narrates the history of 185 historical Sikh Gurdwaras in the country. Qaiser has a vast collection of photographs of such buildings, which have now been razed or have incurred damage beyond repair.

The space at Punjabi Khojghar

Qaiser has put up a few of these photographs at his Research Centre, called the Punjabi Khojgarh. Standing in the middle of a deserted area, the Centre is located between the cities of Kasur and Lahore. A door from the hall leads into a small room, which is the library. There are over 5000 books here, in Punjabi, Urdu, English, Persian and Arabic. “A few years ago someone sent me a photocopy of handwritten poetry of Piro Preman. I am the only person in Pakistan who has her handwritten text,” he says. There are several rare books in his collection. One of them is Umad-tul-Tawarekh, the diary of Maharaja Ranjit Singh’s court, written in Persian, the language it was originally composed in. “Its English version is quite popular, but it is hard to get this one,” he says. One of the oldest books in his collection is History of Boote Shah. Published in 1880 the book is a useful resource for historical maps and geographical description about Lahore. There is a handwritten Quran in his collection too, which is about 200 years old.

 “The idea behind the research centre is to promote the culture and history of Punjab,” he says. “In Pakistan there is a conscious attempt to downplay the Punjabi language and culture and promote Urdu and now English on its behalf. However, it is imperative for the development of a society that it originates from its roots,” he says. A staunch Punjabi nationalist he, along with one other companion, has been protesting outside of the Punjab Assembly for many years on the 21^st of February, Mother Tongue day, for the promotion of the language in schools and colleges.

 “Khojgarh is open for anyone who wants to dig into the rich and diverse history of Punjab,” he says. There are several students from different universities across the country, including Punjab University, Lahore University of Management Sciences and Quaid-e-Azam University who have used the archive here for research, free of cost. To these researchers Qaiser is also willing to provide his own expertise. Besides students, his research center is visited by local and foreign professors who are working on the history of Punjab. He is currently helping out a Pakistani Sikh man from Nankana Sahib, Kalyan Singh, who is doing his PhD from the Punjab University, on the poetry of Baba Guru Nanak, the founder of the Sikh religion.

 Qaiser regularly holds literary meetings and conferences at the research centre. Besides inviting intellectuals from Lahore and other cities of the country, he also invites scholars from across the border, India. He organizes an annual event here, attended by hundreds of people, honoring the historical Punjabi poets and intellectuals. The first such event was organized in 2008, in the honor of Baba Fareed Shakarganj, considered to be the first Punjabi poet. The following year the event was dedicated to Baba Guru Nanak. Qaiser makes a conscious event to invite locals from surrounding villages and cities who generally do not have access to many avenues of education. The idea behind the concept is to educate the people of the area about their own history. About a month ago, he organized a book launch, which was attended by farmers and workers of the surrounding area. The book, which is a history of the Lalyani district (the research centre is situated here), was published by Punjabhi Khojgarh. Giving references of particular places, Qaiser, who is also the author of this Punjabi book, educated the people about the history of certain villages, monuments and places. The research centre has published a couple of other Punjabi poetry books as well, all authored by Qaiser. Along with a few other friends, he regularly organizes poetry recitals here, inviting folks to come and listen.

One of the greatest tragedies of Partition, according to Qaiser, is the compartmentalization of communities and histories. As a result of the Hindu and Sikh exodus, the non-Muslim past associated with them has been neglected over all these years. Qaiser has a particular interest in preserving these monuments and stories which he says are “as much part of our history as anyone else’s.” According to Qaiser, however, due to a lack of interest and awareness the non-Muslim history of the country is slowly being obliterated. “But then where the government is putting in an effort even that is in a miserable condition,” he adds. He gives the example of the Land Revenue Records of all the villages of Lahore, collected by the British in the late 19^th century. This vast survey contained the history of the villages, the communities there, the population, temples, and mosques, among other data. “The complete records of Lahore were burned during the sectarian strife of the 90s, when the government building where they were kept was burned down. All that precious information is now lost forever,” he says. “Similarly the records at the Punjab Secretariat, Diyal Singh Memorial and other government institutions are all in a bad state. The problem is that there is no appreciation of such things,” he adds.

One version of Satish's feminised camera

Satish Sharma is an Indian photographer and cultural critic with a background in the fine arts and journalism. In conversation, writing, and exhibitions, he has frequently spoken of the need for new ways of looking at the world around us — premised on the belief that how we see (which is intertwined with how we interpret what we see) is often determined by our understanding of (and integration in) the culture that surrounds us. Satish gained prominence through his curatorial skills, and his book, Rotigraphy, or Rotiography, a collection of images from small studios around Delhi.

In this interview with Kabita Parajuli of the Hri Institute, Satish answers questions about his work, his philosophy on visuals, and some ideas on how to shake up the world of Southasian photography.

Read more at Himal Southasian

Text and images: Sarita Manu

When a friend asked me why was I traversing half-way across the city only to look at a wall-painting, I had to admit that it was because (in no specific order) a) there is only much I can stand in Mumbai these days, so I need to move around and find things that can make me like the city again and b) my boss asked me to.

Bollywood Art Project (BAP), a public art project celebrating hundred years of Bollywood,  has reiterated for me that Bollywood is indeed larger than life. Conceptualised and executed by young professionals and artists, Ranjit Dahiya,  Mallika Chabra and Swati Rao from Chandigarh Art School, together with Tony Peters and  Sruti Viswesaran,the BAP aims to create several works of street art across various Indian cities. Their first venture is a mural created on a wall on Chapel Road. When Ranjit said we could meet at the mural, I was hoping I didn’t miss finding it on Chapel Road, the narrow street connecting Mount Carmel Church with Hill Road in Bandra, Mumbai. It was, of course, impossible to miss this enormous hand-painted poster screaming ‘Anarkali’.  The pretty Bina Rai and the handsome Pradeep Kumar with a thin moustache lost in her gaze (yes, I think moustaches are handsome) epitomise ‘love’ – the single most popular emotion in Bollywood ruling the viewers’ hearts and minds. Keeping in line with the spirit of Bollywood it should really have been called the ‘BA(a)P’ (with “baap” meaning father), and not just B A P.

The setting for the poster itself is absolutely marvellous: the wall of a two story building across the Lala Lane compound that serves as a fantastic viewing gallery. I could totally imagine myself spending hours staring at the lovely poster and dreaming. In Mumbai, where millions eat and breathe only ‘Bollywood’, this poster is their chance of owning Bollywood. I could almost hear myself say, ‘This is my/our Bollywood’. After all what is Bollywood without its billions of fans, and what are stars without the stardom bestowed upon them?  The poster offers every viewer a sense of ownership – of the city and its cinema.

Based on a still of the film Anarkali, the poster made passersby wonder aloud, ‘Hmmmm, Looks like from Mughal – e – Azam …’ Anarkali, starring Bina Rai and Pradeep Kumar, was released in 1953 and based on the legendary love between Salim (Akbar’s son) and Anarkali, the beautiful court-dancer. Mughal –e – Azam was a film made in 1960 based on the same theme. Both the films were commercially and critically acclaimed and remain popular to date. It was not until the letters A N A R K A L I were painted that people realised this poster was not from Mughal-e-Azam but from Anarkali. One gentleman did insist that Bina Rai’s smile was similar to that of Madhubala, says Sruti.

Dahiya (as Ranjit is affectionately known), with his 18 years of experience in hand painting posters in varied sizes and scales, finished this mural in just 14 days.  Tony recollects that it was not easy for Dahiya to be perched on this high ladder on a busy street; credit goes to the city and the local residents for their undying support and enthusiasm: the affectionate chai-wala who was ready with the chai all the time; the panipuri wala who was so overwhelmed with the poster that he offered the B A P team, a life-long supply of free pani-puri at his stall; the passerby who stood smoking a beedi and comparing the still image to the painting only to point out that a particular spot needed more light and many such others.

B A P also held a screening of Anarkali at the venue. The response to it was outstanding. Kids from the neighbourhood landed with big bottles of water and a packet of chips, an old woman stood for more than an hour watching the film from a shy corner despite being offered a seat and told that the screening was for free, another gentleman travelled from a distant suburb only to look at how things were being set up. The team had a blast organising the screening despite running around frantically to put it together. The kudos pouring in from all corners has given B A P the much needed momentum to realise their dream of completing many such murals until next year and in many cities.

A fully-self funded initiative, the B A P is now pitching in for funding and hopes to receive maximum financial support. Also, the team is slowly expanding and soon there will be more hands holding up the ladder and setting up the screens. B A P is open to receiving exciting ideas and collaborating with more artists. While the B A P is about celebrating Bollywood cinema’s hundred years, it is important to note that it takes art to the streets and into the public domain. Sruti recounted an experience of working with an artist at the Guggenheim Museum in New York, where patrons paid 20 dollars each to watch art. Any art becomes ‘high-art’ when patrons have to pay or when they are screened in closed spaces, she says. And it is this idea that they want to challenge in letting every viewer on the street enjoy art.

Coming up soon: an even bigger mural of Bollywood’s eternal dancing queen, Helen.

Revolutionary playwright, director, and activist, Gursharan Singh passed away in his home in Chandigarh on September 27, 2011.

Gursharan Singh, who became popularly known as “Gursharan Bhaji, and “Bhai Manna Singh,” after a character he created, was born in Multan in 1929. He was trained as an engineer and was employed by the government till his arrest and dismissal in 1975 for his protest against Indira Gandhi’s suspension of the constitution and imposition of Emergency.

Though he was released from prison and reinstated in his job after the fall of the Indira Gandhi government in 1977, he resigned his post when he was rearrested in early 1980s and devoted himself wholly to theatre.

Gursharan Singh started writing plays in the 1950s and created a large body of works, including 13 books, 132 short plays and 6 full-length plays. There have been close to 10,000 performances of his plays across the world. The best loved of these are: “Toya,” “Baba BoldaHai,” “Dhamak Nagare Di,” “ChandnniChowk to Sirhand Tak,” “Kursi Morcha ate HawaVich Latkde Lok,” and “Kamiyanda Wehda.” The plays have been collected in six volumes.

Gursharan Singh produced street theatre in the cities, travelled with his plays to the villages of Punjab, and created a genre that has become known as “rural theatre.” Basing himself on the folk idiom of entertainment and didacticism, GursharanSingh used theatre to tell the truth about an oppressive and corrupt social and political system, speaking for those who had no voice, and encouraging the oppressed and deprived to aspire to change their world. He opened more than thirty-five centres in villages and in Chandigarh, where he trained local artists. Gursharan Singh also published progressive literature and distributed Punjabi books all over Punjab.

Gursharan Singh stood up against the dictatorship of Indira Gandhi at the cost of losing his job and being imprisoned. He also courageously continued his performances through the 1980s, when Punjab was in the grip of religious-separatist violence, despite threats against his life. He took his bold championship of the oppressed beyond theatre to become a prominent defender of democratic rights and civil liberties in India. He supported all who struggled against oppression and fought for social justice while remaining above factions.

He received many awards. At the national level he got the Sangeet Natak Award in 1993, the Kalidas Award in 2003, and the Sangeet Natak Academy Ratna Award in 2006. In Punjab he received the State Language Department Award, Bhagat PuranAward for Service to Humanity (2004), and the Lifetime Achievement Award of the Punjab Arts Council (2011). But perhaps the most fitting award for the work of his life was the Revolutionary Commitment Award that he received in Moga in 2006, when more than 10,000 peasants, workers, and students from across Punjab came to honour him.

Gursharan Singh came twice to North America at the invitation of Indian People’s Association in North America (IPANA) and left a profound impression on the South Asian Diaspora. He not only inspired a generation of writers and activists in Punjab, who mourn him today, but many writers and activists in the Diaspora also mourn him as a source of inspiration and a beloved guide.

A meeting to celebrate Gursharan Singh’s legacy was held in Surrey, BC, on Monday, October 10, 2011.

Harinder Mahil

Chinmoy Banerjee

Raj Chouhan

Sadhu Binning

Charan Gill

The Hri Institute for Southasian Research and Exchange is looking for an intern to work with us in our Kathmandu office.
Key responsibilities
•    Assist in conducting background research for the Institute’s initiatives
•    Carry out tasks related to updating and maintaining the Hri website;
•    Assist in organising events, workshops and conferences
•    Perform select administrative duties;

Schedule and remuneration negotiable.

Apply if you

•    Have at least a 12th-grade or IA-level diploma, or are in their last year of high school;

•    Are interested in music and the arts;

•   Are curious about exploring the intersections between art and politics;

•    Have excellent English-language skills;

•    Pay keen attention to detail.

How to apply

Familiarise yourself with the Hri Institute’s work at www.hrisouthasian.org. Send a brief cover letter describing your interest in working with Hri, as well as your qualifications to kabitap@himalmag.com

About Hri

Hri Institute for Southasian Research and Exchange is a unit of the Southasia Trust, Kathmandu Nepal. The Hri endeavour, besides the more overt political issues of cross-border relevance, will focus on culture, music, literature and the performing arts. Hri emerged out of the need for serious scholarship in the arenas of political and culture over a longer time frame than allowed by journalism. The findings of this research will be published as ‘tracts’ or monographs that will be placed before scholars and policymakers. This attempt to animate the intellectual and cultural space in Southasia will also find expression through conferences and networking activities.

By: Kriti Shrestha

Graffiti in Kathmandu (Picture: Kriti Shrestha)

Sometimes, newness is just as much of a relief as familiarity. A few graffiti artists have begun to make their mark on the walls in the streets of Kathmandu. For those familiar with the previously dismal condition of those walls, this change is pleasant. As Sworup Nhasiju notes in his article Reimagining the Streets (The Kathmandu Post), graffiti, both an ode to and a call for freedom and expression, “rejuvenates public space”.

Graffiti in Kathmandu (Picture: Kriti Shrestha)

Nhasiju talked to four graffiti artists who are “interacting with the public through their colors and ideas”. What he has uncovered hints at what just might be the start of a new wave in street art in the capital city of Nepal – free of shoddy commercialization and full of artistic ingenuity. In the graffiti works seen in Kupondole, Lalitpur, artists have also left subtly political messages and called out for unity. “We make the nation,” they say.

If Kathmandu is one “fitting muse” for graffiti artists, Kabul could be yet another. Jason Burke in The graffiti guerillas of Kabul (The Hindu) quotes Afghan graffiti artist Qassem as saying “The idea is to make people ask questions”. Art does effectively arouse curiosity. It could also break the monotony of a humdrum, everyday existence. In Kabul, street art has expressed dissatisfaction at former leaders and responded to police injustices.

Graffiti in Kabul (Web Source: theendofbeing.com)

Perhaps the true purpose of street art in Kabul doesn’t need to be strictly questioned, though. In a chaotic city, true expression is simply refreshing when found. Or, “disturbing”, which British graffiti artist Chu says is the whole “point” of the “big painting” in Graffiti Art Brightens War-torn Kabul (South Asian Outlook).

In both these Southasian capital cities, the law does not, in fact, allow this form of art. Creating graffiti on property not owned by the artist is a work of “vandalism” in most countries. Yet, be it the thrill of crossing legal boundaries or of maintaining an anonymous yet provocative profile on public streets, graffiti allows for a delight that has earned it a pop-culture status.

Graffiti in Kathmandu (Picture: Kriti Shrestha)

And why not – people do like to be heard out. With graffiti people can either be subtle or in-your-face, but they will not be ignored. Why is graffiti so compelling? Perhaps, it is simply the sheer scale in which graffiti is normally created. Also, mystery is powerful. And, at times, to break forth of barriers is a thing of beauty.