Mahmudabad: Part 2

Even though Mahmudabad is a small town, the noises of the occasional passing car are themselves quite muted inside the compound of the Qila. A large mango orchard covers one side, while high walls rise up all around, making the Qila apart from the outside world. There is an unseen war at play here, and it is not modernity with antiquity within the Qila. No, these elements work with each other here, modernity having seeped in through the cracks in the walls (as it does everywhere). The tensions exist between inside and outside, between the world of acceptance and all-embracing culture, and the world of religious fanaticism and the cults that exist outside, just beyond the protective bricks, placed over one another, plastered with materials that are hardly used today.

One of these differences is very obvious. The town is not very prosperous, but the Qila shows signs of past grandeur. The opulence of a life that has faded away is still visible in the number of people who exist just to service the estate and work for the Raja and his family. The town on the other hand, is small and congested. But while our bus passed the streets on the way to Bilehra, i noticed a lot of small shops running on solar power, something that is rare even in larger cities. While the Qila holds on to the past and moves slowly forward, the town on the whole, not too opulent, makes a spring into the future.

Looking out from the Qila to the town

The first day that we were there, four of us had taken a walk in the afternoon. Stepping out of the quiet of the fort, we were surprised by the relative silence in the city too. On the main road, we noticed that a lot of shops were closed. Our queries would be answered soon enough. In the meantime, looking for a shop, one of those with me asked a man on a bike where we could find one that was open. He volunteered to take us there, and we navigated streets that narrowed down to reach a small shop that was open. Having purchased their aerated drinks we returned to the Qila, to look up why the town was practically under lockdown.

The Qila of Bilhera is a short distance away. The ceremonies we were to witness were to be conducted there. Earlier in the day, we had been taken around the Masjids of Mahmudabad, built in the 19th century, modelled on the mosques at Iraq that lie in the regions of Karbala, and built to scale. Mahmudabad Qila hosts many Majilis' (meetings) in the Imambara, and the region around it, especially these mosques, play an important part in the Muharram proceedings.

Muharram involves the construction of taziyas, miniature replicas of the tomb of Hussain, that are carried around, and laid to rest on the final day of the month. Each day of the month has its own significance, and a ceremony attached to that day.There was even a Taziya graveyard where the taziyas were buried at the end of the month. As I'd mentioned earlier, religious harmony is a part of the culture of Mahmudabad.  However, we would see signs of religious tension that day.

Bilehra is a fort that pre-dates the current Mahmudabad fortress, and was the original seat of power for Mahmudabad. Built over a razed Bhil fort (from where it gets its name), it is now also in a state of slow decay, yet holding on for all its worth. We met the Raja inside the building. Outside, the crowd had begun to grow, and the music had begun to play. The Raja was a little nervous, but not on account of the ceremony. There had apparently been a greater mobilisation of Hindus that day.

Part of the reason for this mobilisation was to do with the reason for the shutdown the previous day: a local politician, who happened to be building a temple to Nathuram Godse, had been killed in Lucknow. The crowds were milling around to pay their respects, He was from around Mahmudabad. The other part was the fact that Hindu groups mobilizing in the region had been on the rise for the last few years, especially around Muharram, but the Raja told us that it had never been this large. He feared that with the killing, a communal clash was quite possible that day. But the show must go on. And so he strapped his sword onto his belt, and stepped out to greet the crowds that had grown around the courtyard. The procession soon began, with the taziya made at Bilehra making stops at the mosques around the property. We followed it too. Interestingly, while we had been told to stick to traditional clothing and to cover our heads, it was only the women who were required to do so, while clothing among the crowds had no schema at all.
After that the Taziya left to pass through the town. Soon after it had left the gates and gone a little way, the Raja came back and joined us for lunch. After lunch we returned to Mahmudabad, and left early the next morning.

What is the role of royalty in our times? Does the Raja still wield any power at all?
Royalty is definitely, in the larger picture, defunct. There are only a handful of powerful rulers who are monarchs left in the world. The world of the royalty in India is one that we see as coming to an end with independence, but that isn't so. Princes and Zamindars did not lose their power and land overnight, it was a slow and deliberate process. Until the 1960s, most royal families still had large holdings and much wealth, that was taken away with the land ceiling act and the abolition of privy purses during Indira Gandhi's time. Yet this did not do away with the institution of royalty altogether. They still exist, people like the Raja of Mahmudabad, or the Arcot Nawab, or the Raja of Rajpipla (a very interesting personality, a strong supporter of the LGBTQIA+ community in India) who, in their own way, due to the institutionalisation of their existence, continue to have meaning for the people, if only ceremonial and titular. The people definitely respected the Raja of Mahmudabad, and he was a significant part of the proceedings. But he had no power over their lives, or any political power in himself. The royalty in India command respect and attention and continue to be quite wealthy on the whole. Yet their relevance matters on what they do - just like everyone else - but also on what their ancestors did. The Raja of Mahmudabad's family is not only ceremonial; they are also politically involved (the Raja is an ex-MLA from Congress, and Ali Khan, his son, a current member of the Samajwadi party); they frequently organise distribution of food, especially during religious festivals; they practice religious harmony; they are well read; and they make sure to remain connected to the people. All these points ensure that the Raja remains relevant and respected, at least in the areas close by.

As we left Mahmudabad the next morning, we were reunited with the world we were used to. Everything went on as it always had. When we got back to Ashoka, we were immediately returned to the lives we were used to. Life went on. As it did in Mahmudabad as well. Over time, the place will change, as it has done for so many centuries. As everything does. But for now, it remains an island in a sea of discontent that is UP.

A replica mosque in Mahmudabad of one of the mosques at Karbala 

Read more about the Battle of Karbala here where Hussain was martyred.
Read more about the murder here
More on the Raja of Rajpipla here