Sunday, April 10, 2011

Mohali bonhomie






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Updated: April 9, 2011 19:34 IS


Cheer on: United in spirit.
Pix: AP
If a sport like cricket can bind and ease tensions between the two countries, why can't we channelise this energy into a more constructive form, asks Brinda Suri after watching the high-energy clash in Mohali.


THE Indian cricket lexicon just got a few worthy additions: Dhoni's Devils, Wankhede, April 2, 2011. It was 28 years ago when the first few entries had appeared, on a magical June 25, 1983. The ICC World Cup win has unveiled a new set of champions but there's no stealing the thunder from the Original XI, a certain rough-diamond Kapil Dev and his Daredevils, those magnificent men in white whose acts of bravado have found immortal space in the tote bag of sporting legends. Who dared to go where no Indian had been before, to forever change the fortune of cricket in the country.

A political tool?
Since that incredible triumph at Lord's cricket in India has seen a metamorphosis to divine status, has a few gods to boast about and is a potent tool in many a money-spinning formulae. That it can play a role in political diplomacy as well was seen during the India-Pakistan semifinal, an encounter which in many ways was the juiciest in this edition.
Even as the country revels in the Mumbai win, the high-voltage Mohali clash remains of special significance. It should be of interest to rewind and take a look at some of the subtle moments connected with it that contributed to its now-famous bonhomie, the emotion of which managed to draw a tad-romanticised statement from India Foreign Secretary Nirupama Rao who said, “It would be appropriate to say that this time a ‘Mohali spirit' pervaded the Indo-Pak relationship.” On-field the ‘Mohali spirit' showed itself in heartwarming gestures…when Pakistan skipper Shahid Afridi had a buddy handshake with his Indian counterpart before the toss or when he grinned and patted Sachin Tendulkar on the shoulder just after failing to take his wicket owing to a dropped catch. It was instances like these that made the much-touted ‘war' just another game between two professional sides. Off-field there was much more. 
Replete with ingredients of a thriller, the March 30 tie was a sell-out. Besides the high-profile guests — a cheerful veneered Pakistan PM Yosuf Raza Gilani, an expectedly unanimated Indian PM Manmohan Singh and a surprisingly animated Sonia Gandhi; there was a bevy of familiar faces from the Bombay film fraternity, sundry ministers and corporate honchos. Private jets were supposed be ferrying the A-list, for the aam aadmi the Indian Railways ran a special train from Delhi to Chandigarh, and hotels were booked to capacity. It was Mohali's day in the sun. I was not scheduled to be at this mother of all matches, its tickets having sold out almost as soon as they were announced. As news of an India-Pakistan tie got confirmed the little piece of paper was the hottest property, with reports of it being crookedly traded for five figure amounts. Luck came my way when a cousin couldn't make it and grudgingly handed me the coveted terrace-block ticket.

Setting the mood
The air was fragrant with that lovely balminess of Punjab's pre-spring, the turf was a verdant carpet and in the packed PCA Stadium stands there was palpable energy, all crackling and electric. Making it more of a party were bhangra-pop songs booming on the microphone and dhol players drumming up the beat at regular intervals. The feisty crowd was here to watch a high-quality game and have a good time. Amongst them were 100-odd, men, women and children, who had walked across the Wagah border to cheer their Men in Green. And confidently raising its head time and again amidst the sea of Tricolour was the fluttering Green-White crescent-star. Every time it went up a hurrah erupted from some corner of the 26,000-plus crowd. The Pakistani was not an enemy here. He was a fair contender and the sporting Mohali crowd applauded a fine shot whichever side it came from. 
The opponent and its supporters were the cynosure of all eyes. Afridi received the biggest round of applause when his playing XI was announced, Wahab Riaz got an ovation for his succulent five-wicket haul and sitting-in-the-pavilion Shoaib Akhtar's autograph was most sought- after. In the stands their beautiful women, bespoke for the fashion ramp, stood out for their stylish attire — near-ankle length kurta, trouser and flowing dupatta — which made them worthy of a pictorial spread in the next day's newspapers. Hogging the limelight separately and obliging enthusiastic Indians with a photo a minute was Cricket Chacha or white- bearded Abdul Jalil, Pakistan's 61-year-old lucky mascot from Sialkot dressed in his trademark green, for whom this was “the biggest match” he was witnessing.

Punjabi by nature
This was Punjab and the multitude had its brand of zest in tact. Mukesh Ambani may be amongst India's richest but when he appeared at earshot distance from the crowd he was greeted the bum-chum way: "Oye Ambani! Wadhiya…all is well?" His wife Nita, though, was respectfully called “Bhabhiji”! Comic irreverence is part of the Punjabi fabric, but there was no room for the offensive here. A group of college boys occupying seats alongside mine were typically vivacious and happy-go-lucky. They had been wildly cheering but hadn't attracted the television cameras yet. “And that's a big shame,” they felt. The situation was being gravely pondered over till one of them said “We need to make the right noises. Let's flay them." No sooner than had he mouthed it that a volley of voices berated him: “Khabardaar, mehmaan ne saade… Don't you dare, they are our guests.”
No one had drilled the Ps and Qs into those young, cheeky heads, it was a natural response. Similarly, no one told the people of Punjab to open their homes to those from across the border as hotels were booked. No one told Raju, the little boy who was painting flags on cheeks of spectators, not to charge the Pakistanis. No one told restaurateurs in Chandigarh to request the guests not to ask for a bill. No one told the grand old Punjabi lady to approach a group of Lahore women, whom she spotted in the market a day after the match, with, “Aao, ghar charan pao… Come, grace my home.” It's a hospitable temperament not uncommon at a people-to-people level, which can ease relationships and let the two countries channelise their energies into more constructive issues. If only there's a political will… Cricket diplomacy has once again set the ball rolling. Will it get converted into valuable partnerships or as usual be stumped?

Published in The Hindu, April 2011
http://www.thehindu.com/arts/magazine/article1608082.ece

Thursday, April 7, 2011

Srinagar & Leh: Of domes and minarets


Srinagar: Juma Masjid
Held in the embrace of snow-capped massifs in the folds of the Karakoram and Himalayan ranges, two distinct civilizations emerged within a few hundred km of each other in the Indian subcontinent to give the world an absorbing culturescape to explore. Though grouped under one province, the cold desert-plateau of Ladakh and the valley of Kashmir are chalk and cheese and a journey across their dividing mountains is a picture of stunning contrasts. Diverse geography shaped the lives of the two people and defined their architecture. Remarkably, religion too was deeply linked with societal changes and the region’s shrines present an evocative expression of that.

Buddhism and Islam are the two dominating religions and cross-cultural influences, particularly Central Asian, are evident in structures of both faiths. To a visitor, whereas monasteries and pagodas will come across as familiar in appearance it’s mosques and ziarats that make for an intriguing study, standing apart from the customary domed images.  

Kashmir: Aesthetic Central 
It’s often said, preachers and invaders have shaped the history of Kashmir. Besides a lot else, their legacy is seen in the incredible architecture dotting Srinagar, especially the older parts of town that exude a medieval air. Central Asian influence replaced Hinduism-Buddhism with Islam and also redefined its structural design. Brickwork was borrowed, timber detailing stepped in for stone, buildings became cubical and slender, and roofs emerged as the most distinguishing feature: conical or pyramidal finials atop the main structure. In some cases a few conical caps overlap, and are considered a classical European influence.

The pick amongst Srinagar’s shrines is the Khanqah-e-Moulla, a dedication to Iranian sufi Shah Hamadan who’s credited with sowing the seed of Islam in the Valley. Originally built in AD 1395 and rebuilt the third time in AD 1731, it embodies elements of Kashmir’s artistic competence. A quaint square structure in wood, its elegance is visible in the papier-mâché ceiling and distinctive latticed windows.

The Juma Masjid in Nowhatta is another significant pyramidal-roofed edifice. Fine brickwork marks it four identical gateways and the highlight of its large interiors is 370 pillars, each being a single deodar tree trunk. Almost all areas in old Srinagar have a dedication of sort. Khanyar is known for the ziarats of Dastgeer Sahib and Naqashband Sahib, two saints who did not visit the Valley but whose word spread here through their followers who brought their relics and built the memorials. These shrines are defined by a set of green conical roofs, glass windows and khatamband (square wood pieces) ceiling. Two noticeable features around most shrines in Srinagar is the space for feeding pigeons and the series of halwai shops.

Further away, at the base of Hari Parbat, the Makhdoom Sahib ziarat is another immensely revered spot. On the banks of the Dal Lake and looking distinctly different from this line-up is the domed Hazratbal.

There’s a tranquil magnetism about these shrines and in many way it’s their structures that exude a peaceful aura.   

Leh: Jama Masjid
Ladakh: Nature's Canvas 
In contrast to the fertile landscape of Kashmir, harsh and inaccessible topography determined the architecture of Ladakh. Buildings are terraced and box like with flat roofs and small windows, a design that counters severe temperatures. The material used is mud, stone, timber, all locally available and suitable for an area with scanty rainfall.

Similar to Tibet in terrain and tradition, Ladakh was most influenced by it. Central Asian influences began creeping in with Leh developing as a major trading centre on the Silk Route. As acknowledgment for their role in boosting economy, around AD 1640 land began being offered to traders, usually from Kashmir, to settle in Leh. Permission was also given to build a mosque; and Masjid Sharif in Chutayrangtak area is reportedly Leh’s oldest. Mosque façades seamlessly blended with their surroundings with subtle elements distinguishing them, as less ornate windows when compared to Buddhist structures. 

Talking about the slant towards symbolisation of Islam and its affect on local architecture, Leh-based eminent historian and author, Abdul Ghani Sheikh says, “Today the influence of Turko-Iranian elements—dome and minaret—are conspicuous in the two main mosques in Leh, the Jama Masjid in Main Bazaar and the Shi'a Imamia Masjid a little ahead. These changes surfaced in the 20th century. Prior to this there was no difference between a Muslim and Buddhist building, with both following conventional architecture. The mosques at best had a small, slender wooden crown, not as prominent as the Turko-onion domes."

Sheikh's collection of essays, 'Reflections on Ladakh, Tibet and Central Asia' (2010), is an insightful work on trans-region influences. In the chapter 'Islamic architecture in Leh' he has narrated legends of the Namgyal dynasty that ruled Ladakh and their role in the peaceful co-existence of Islam and Buddhism. "Intermarriages between Muslims from Baltistan and Buddhists of Ladakh were not considered out of place, with there being a tradition of each partner following his/her own faith. In fact this was the case till quite recently in Ladakh,” Sheikh enlightens, adding, “The most illustrious alliance dates back to the 17th century when King Jamyang Namgyal of Ladakh tied the knot with princess Gyal Khatun, daughter of the Shi'a king of Khaplu, Baltistan. Khatun remained a Muslim, but her son Senge Namgyal, became the most distinguished Buddhist ruler of Ladakh.”

Peace and preservation
There was, and still continues to be, a high level of tolerance between communities in Leh and this has a lot to do with no historical baggage of animosity despite concessions made between rulers of different faiths. “In AD 1681 when the Mongols invaded Ladakh, Mughal assistance was sought to deal with the enemy. Aurangzeb’s Mughal forces under Nawab Fidai Khan crushed the raid; and as a price Ladakhi king Deldan Namgyal granted land for a mosque to Sunni Muslims at the foot of the Leh Palace. This is where the Jami’a or Jama Masjid stands today,” explains Sheikh.

The wave of religious zeal has played a role in changing the four walls of worship. On the other hand, it’s a passion for preservation that has seen the restoration of the oldest mosque in Leh to near-original shape. Once in a dilapidated condition, the Masjid Sharif, known as Tsas Soma or New Garden Mosque, has been painstakingly restored by the Tibetan Heritage Fund International. It’s replete with Ladakhi elements as pillars, paper lamps, roof waterproofing with mar-kalag mud or butter-mud, wood floors etc.

As a connect between the two cultures stands the now-restored Shey mosque, said to be the first in Ladakh and built by Shah Hamadan. Following his decade-long stay in Kashmir, he departed for Central Asia, en route stopping in Ladakh. The mosque has both Kashmiri and Ladakhi features and gets its share of worshippers and travellers alike.

Quick facts:
Road: The Manali-Leh route is open from June to September and the Leh–Srinagar road between May to October.
For more info: www.jktourism.org

Published in JetWings, April 2011