A Day in Ahmedabad – Marvels in Stone

A canceled meeting gave me the entire day to explore some impressive architectural sights in Ahmedabad, the largest city in Gujarat state in western India. Situated on the banks of the Sabarmati River, Ahmedabad is now the seventh largest city in India.

Sultan Ahmed Shah I of the Muzaffarid dynasty established Ahmedabad at the beginning of the 15^th century. Zafar Khan Muzaffar (later Muzaffar Shah I) was the Governor of Gujarat under the Delhi Sultanate. Following the sacking of Delhi by Timur in the late 14^th century, he established himself as the Sultan of an independent Gujarat. His descendants, the Muzaffarids ruled Gujarat for almost 200 years (1391-1573) before the Mughals conquered it. In 1753 it was taken over by the Marathas and finally by the British in 1780 after the First Anglo-Maratha War. After the bifurcation of Bombay State into Maharashtra and Gujarat in 1960, Ahmedabad became the latter’s capital city.

During Muzaffarid rule, Ahmedabad became one of the wealthiest cities in the world and became home to a distinctive style of architecture that blended Islamic elements with indigenous Hindu and Jain building traditions. This architectural style found later in Mughal buildings, include ornate mihrabs and minarets, jalis (screens) carved in stone and chattris (pavilions topped with cupolas). One distinctive feature is the absence of Quranic inscriptions from masjids, the ornamentation brought about by floral and geometric patterns.

My taxi driver, Naresh, was apprehensive about going to the old city citing bad traffic. Even the newer parts of Ahmedabad, with its wide and well-paved roads, struggle with the terrible driving sense of its occupants, who have no concept of right of way. Nevertheless, I convinced him to park a safe distance away and I would manage on foot. Crossing one of the bridges over Sabarmati, we left the environs of shiny glass buildings to enter a different era in which the surroundings were old and the traffic even more chaotic.

My first stop was the masjid of Ahmed Shah, built in 1414. Meant to be for the private worship of the Sultan and his nobles, it located within the Bhadra Fort. The citadel itself was a big disappointment, being completely ruined and vandalized. There were signs of ongoing repair and the security guards were particular that I take no pictures. The masjid represents the earliest architectural style of the Gujarat Sultanate and is characterized by lofty stone pillars, brackets, beams, corbelled ceilings with buttresses on both sides of the spiral minarets. The pillared hall has a screened hanging gallery, the Muluk Khana, used by the Sultan for his prayers.

Ahmed Shah Masjid

Just a few hundred yards down the road is the beautiful Sidi Saiyad masjid, built in 1572 by an Abyssinian slave in the service of Khudavand Khan Khwaja Zafar Salmani, the Governor of Surat during the rule of the tenth Gujarat Sultan Mahmud Shah III. This elegant masjid has some of the finest screen work in stone. On its western wall is the famous jali depicting the intertwining branches of a tree, which has become the architectural symbol of Ahmedabad. The other carvings on this masjid are also delicate and masterly. A true gem situated at a busy intersection of the old city.

Sidi Saiyad Masjid

The famous jali at Sidi Saiyad Masjid 

Walking down past the Fort one goes through a busy market that could very well be Delhi’s Chandni Chowk or Hyderabad’s Laad Bazaar. Straight up front is the Lal Darwaza, an imposing gate with three carved arches. This was the entrance to Maidan Shah or the Royal Square from where the Sultan is believed to have watched the processions. Past the Lal Darwaza, on the right is the Jama Masjid.

Lal Darwaza

The Jama Masjid is a congregational masjid built by Sultan Ahmed Shah in 1423 and would have been the centre of social activity in those times. Built in yellow sandstone, it has an inner hall containing 260 pillars carved in the Hindu and Jain styles, which support 15 domes at various elevations. The right hand corner has a lower roof to accommodate another level, the Muluk Khana, which is surrounded by screens on all sides for the Sultan’s worship. The central court is massive (75m x 66m), paved with marble and surrounded by columned verandahs in the east, north and south. In the centre of the courtyard sits an ablution pool with a fountain, which adds to the serenity of the complex. Scholars have rated this masjid as one of the most beautiful and imposing structures in its class.

The Jama Masjid

Interiors showing the Muluk Khana

Ornamental work on the pillars

The eastern gate leads to an enclosure that houses the Ahmed Shahi Tomb that houses the remains of Ahmed Shah I, his son Muhammad Shah I and his grandson Qutubuddin Ahmed Shah II. The building is distinctive with nice latticework, but the condition is bad and squatters have built dwellings in the surrounding area.

By now I have walked for over 3 hours. It is Friday, but there is still some time to kill before the congregational prayers in the Sidi Saiyad masjid. Across the road was an inviting Café situated in the garden of a 19^th century mansion. The cappuccino I ordered was lukewarm and on complaining it simply came back after being boiled in a pan! When in Gujarat, eat like a Gujarati. I forgot this basic travel rule. The forgettable cappuccino was however followed by serene Friday prayers in the Sidi Saiyad masjid, giving me more time to admire its intricate stone carvings.

It was time call Naresh and move on towards the Dariyapur area of Ahmedabad, which has more carved stone masjids. First on the stop was Rani Rupvati masjid, named after the Hindu wife of Sultan Mahmud Begada (reigned 1458-1511), the most prominent of Muzaffarid sultans. Begada also established the fortified city of Champaner (near Baroda) and built the beautiful Jama Masjid there, which remains one of the finest monuments of that period in India. The Rani Rupvati masjid, also called Masjid-e-Nagina, is yet another fine example of Indo-Sarcenic architecture. Here I run into a group of enthusiastic boys, who had just finished their Friday prayers and wanted their pictures taken. A few hundred yards down the road was the Qutubuddin masjid, a smaller monument in similar style with intricately carved pillars and fine jalis.

Rani Rupvati Masjid

Ornamental work on minarets

Children after the prayers

We go past the Delhi gate to the impressive Hathesing Temple, built in 1850 by a rich Jain merchant at a cost of 10 lakh Rupees and dedicated to Dharamnath, the 15^th Jain tirthankar (apostle). Built in white marble, which is now greying, it has a paved courtyard surrounded by an imposing row of cloisters containing 52 shrines, profusely decorated with rich carvings. The temple is a two-storied structure with elaborate porches on three sides and front porch crowned by a large dome.

Hathesing Temple

Temple Carvings 

My final stop was the Sabarmati Ashram, established by Mahatma Gandhi as his home in 1915. It is here that he perfected his art of ‘satyagraha’ and led many successful campaigns in India’s freedom struggle. The most famous was the Salt March of 1930, in which Gandhiji walked about 250 km to Dandi on the coast of the Arabian Sea to make salt and break the Salt Law of the British Empire. The beautiful ashram complex, on the west bank of the Sabarmati River, with its shady trees offers a refuge from the noise of the city. There is a nice museum, library and bookshop inside the Ashram complex. The simplicity and peace of this place is amazing.

Statue of Mahatma Gandhi on the grounds of Sabarmati Ashram 

Gandhiji's house at Sabarmati Ashram

Gandhiji's room

It is time to head back to catch my flight to Delhi and reflect on a day spent well.

On my Father's Death

My father passed away on August 28, 2011.

While he was quite sick for the past six years with chronic lung disease brought on by years of smoking, the last month was especially tough on all of us. He persevered and we stood by him. He never complained, so how could we? My mother, his companion of 55 years, knew very well that the endgame was on. But she was the epitome of patience and strength, telling us to also take care of ourselves while caring for him. Many lessons my parents taught me in my formative years were tested in those days.

My early years were spent not knowing my parents. They went for higher studies to USA when I was very young, leaving me in the care of maternal grandparents. It was very late at night sometime in the summer of 1962 that I first saw them - two good-looking strangers who showered much affection and brought me many gifts. The next few weeks went by figuring all this out. The ice was finally broken when on the train to Bombay to collect their shipped luggage the window fell on my hand and took a few nails with it. We were friends after that.

Abbu (as we called him affectionately) taught me the value of hard work and developed my interest in science. He was always surrounded by students, was hardly at home and the best place to meet him was in his laboratory. I was too young in the 1960s to understand that he was setting up a new Biochemistry program at the Aligarh Muslim University (AMU), but figured he must be someone important. I should become like him, I thought.

I enjoyed going to Abbu’s laboratory in one corner of the Chemistry Department, opposite the C-2 lecture theatre in which, many years later, I also attended my first Chemistry class at AMU. My first experiments were done in his lab. For a 6- or 7-year old it was pure magic to see the sudden appearance or disappearance of dark pink color (phenolphthalein) when two colorless liquids (acid and base) were mixed. Years later, when in High School, he encouraged my friends and me to take the National Science Talent examination. Two of us did the project part in his lab. We studied the physicochemical properties of various edible oils to detect adulteration and developed a simple method to estimate the water content of milk. Our research taught us the value of repeat measurements, variation, statistical significance and proper controls.

Abbu nurtured my interest in science and celebrated every success in his own subdued and easy-going manner. I was made to feel good, but not important, and encouraged to do better next time. Importantly, I was allowed to make my own choices. When I gave up the option to study medicine and opted for Chemistry instead, he supported me. By the time I was ready for my Masters degree, Abbu was Head of Biochemistry at AMU. While I liked the subject, the desire to be my own person made me declare that a Masters in Biochemistry from his Department would be my last choice. I never asked him whether my belligerence hurt him and Abbu was too much of a gentleman to raise it. He advised me to go to the Indian Institute of Technology-Kanpur to get my Masters in Chemistry, reasoning that it was the best Chemistry Department in the country, and with a strong background in Chemistry I could easily switch to Biochemistry. I saw the value of that advice many years later.

By letting me take my own decisions and learn from my mistakes, my parents took the fear of the unknown out of me. That confidence has been critical for me as a person and as a professional. Those who play it safe are rarely original. I was allowed early in my life to take risks with the knowledge that my parents trusted me and I would not be alone if I messed up. That is the best gift my parents have given me. I hope I can instill the same confidence in my own children.

Abbu nurtured my other interests as well. There were hunting trips during winter, an activity in which he participated enthusiastically, much to my mother’s dismay. While he himself did not play any sports, he never objected to my three-hour cricket sessions after school or the daily lawn tennis practice in university. He knew I had an academic focus that would not be compromised and trusted my judgment. That confidence allowed me to walk away from AMU in the year I was going to captain the university lawn tennis team, because I had the chance to study at IIT-Kanpur. Those aware of the AMU student culture will find this an uncommon action.

My extracurricular interests also benefitted directly from Abbu’s research activities. My air gun came from Germany and my first aluminum tennis racket from somewhere else he had gone to attend Biochemistry conferences. I became interested in photography very early because I had full access to his Carl Zeiss Contaflex SLR camera, which is still a prized possession. A few cameras and many years later, I am still excited at the prospect of shooting landscapes, people and monuments. There is no better way to spend an entire Sunday in Delhi. My camera also remains my most trusted companion on trips elsewhere.

He was a simple person, had no attitude despite being successful at almost everything he did and remained child-like in his enthusiasm to learn new things. Abbu taught himself computers when these were uncommon and became a vocal advocate for computer-aided learning. Biochemistry was one of the first departments at AMU to give students access to computers. Had he been well the past few years, I am sure Abbu would have been a rage on Facebook.

My parents had superb chemistry. They understood and complemented each other beautifully, and treated each other’s family as their own. My mother cared for my paternal grandmother through her 7-year bed-ridden state following a stroke. She also stood by Abbu as he educated and settled his younger siblings. Abbu on the other hand took care of my maternal grandmother in her later years. He commented on her death that he was now an orphan. The love and care they have provided their other son and my younger brother, who is intellectually challenged, is truly inspirational.

Abbu had been struggling in the ICU in a Delhi hospital since July 26, mostly unconscious and on a ventilator. The pneumonia was severe and had led to septicemia. My mother could not come and relied only on my twice-daily updates. We both knew it was a losing battle. She finally managed to come to Delhi on August 28. We left the hospital at 5:30 pm. Abbu died at 8 pm. The 55-year relationship had hung on for that last meeting.

Farewell Abbu. You were always my hero. Your life will continue to guide and inspire me till I meet my Creator just like you did that evening.

Abbu and Me (Year : 1957)

Anna Hazare aur anne hazaron (Anna Hazare and the other thousands) – A Photo Essay

The past week saw dramatic developments in India. Tired of rampant corruption in public life, one man stood up and India responded with vigour.

Anna Hazare, 72, is a social activist and a self-acclaimed Gandhian, who has stood up many times for local issues. The issue at hand now was the Lokpal (Ombudsman) Bill in the Indian Parliament. This legislation has been in abeyance for 42 years with successive governments of all political dispensations avoiding it. The civil society demand was for the Government of India to formulate a drafting committee for the Lokpal Bill with equal representation of Ministers (politicians) and private citizens. The GoI said it was not possible. Anna Hazare said he will fast himself to death until that happens.

Blackmail or force of conviction? Every protest is a form of blackmail. Indians everywhere responded in huge numbers. Thousands thronged to Jantar Mantar in New Delhi, the site of the fast. Thousands also gathered at India Gate, the symbol of our nationhood, every evening for peaceful protests, street theatre, candle light vigils and marches.

The issue was serious but the mood remained festive. People of all ages, religions, urban and rural, rich and poor, came to show support. The crowds were large but orderly. People helped each other, shared views and sang together. They stood by each other because corruption affects everyone.

Was it media managed? Yes, but why should it not be? Why should a powerful medium not be used for a good cause? The voice of the people had to be carried. There were also an estimated 4.4 million tweets in 3 days.

After 4 days the government relented and agreed to the demands. Now begins the hard work of drafting a tough bill that will make sure the corrupt get punished and that it happens with complete transparency and with speed. Only then will India’s real potential be unshackled.

It happened so quickly because the government listened to popular sentiment. A big reason is also the personal integrity of our Prime Minister, Dr. Manmohan Singh. He is probably very deeply affected by the scams faced by his government.

Dr. Singh, rise to the occasion and follow your heart. You have nothing to lose and everything to gain.

Anna, you have shown us the way. Continue to lead but beware of the opportunists in your ranks.

Here are some pictures from my trip to Jantar Mantar and India Gate on Friday, April 8, 2011. Feel the moment.

Jantar Mantar

The crowds descended at Jantar Mantar

It included the young, ....

.... the very young, .....

..... and the old.

They sang, .....

..... helped each other,

.... and made sure their focus was on corruption (not on kulfi-falooda, gulab jamun, etc.

They packed the protest site ......

to listen to this man (not the one with the microphone, but the one in white). Anna Hazare.

They signed banners. I signed the banner. Can you spot my signature?

They hung corrupt politicians, ....

.... but also remembered martyrs in the fight against corruption.

 India Gate

The tricolour was proudly displayed

Handicap was no handicap

Candles were in full display, ...

.... and so were the hands that held them

They also brought other agendas to protest against

In the end, India Gate took everyone in its fold 

Light a candle. Remove the darkness of corruption.