Jashn-e-Rekhta goes to London

Mahmood Farooqui and Darain Shahidi at Jashn-e-Rekhta London. (Photo: Danish Khan)

In June 1964, a journalist from The New York Times called the librarian at the Indian consulate in New York to find out more about Mirza Ghalib and Meer Taqui Meer. The reason: Ataullah Khan Ozai-Durrani, a wealthy Afghan, had left half a million dollars in his will for the study and translation of their works into English. The librarian was able to inform the journalist about their genres, perhaps after a few days, but advised him to check with experts from Pakistan. A professor of Iranian studies at Columbia told the journalist that Ghalib and Meer had lived in territories which were now Pakistan.

Both the poets, who died in the nineteenth century, had hardly ever perhaps ventured northwards of Delhi.

Official apathy and lack of employment opportunities had put Urdu squarely among languages that were dying in India in the years after Independence. So it was only natural that the librarian and the professor could think of Pakistan when asked for information about Urdu and Persian poets who hailed from the sub-continent.

Urdu’s demise in India has now been anticipated for long, but entities as contrasting as Mumbai’s film industry and madrasas have been attributed for continuing to provide it oxygen. Some centres like Hyderabad, Bhopal, Lucknow, Mumbai, and Delhi have what can be called green patches of Urdu, but they are few and far between. And even the most ardent optimist would agree that organisations that were formed to serve Urdu in India are well past their prime. And it is against this backdrop that Rekhta arose.

Rekhta in London

London got a taste of Rekhta’s success when a day-long celebration sold out within days of tickets going on sale. On Saturday, October 28, at Westminster Chapel, a crowd of around 600 people assembled, united by their love of Urdu.

The relevance of an Indian entity organising a runaway successful Urdu-festival in London cannot be lost. It was made possible because Rekhta has metamorphosed into an outlet that has incorporated all qualities required to give a fillip to Urdu. In the Indian context, the website imaginatively provides access to a cocktail of filmi lyrics, religious literature, and treasure trove of work by known, unknown, and lesser-known poets and authors.

Just as Munshi Newal Kishore’s Press in the 19th century ushered in a Urdu print revolution, Rekhta has done the same online. The Press published over 5,000 titles during the lifetime of the founder, and while purists might squirm with the comparison, facts speak eloquently. Rekhta is the world's largest website for Urdu literature having over 19 million unique users. Readers from 160 countries access its e-library which has 70 million digitised pages.

“Our staff members are stationed in some of the biggest libraries in India to constantly scan and upload books on our website,” says Huma Khalil, trustee Rekhta Foundation. When I press further for interesting nuggets, she tells me that after every Jashn-e-Rekhta in Delhi, their online initiative for learning Urdu gets exponential traffic. “We see an unprecedented surge in our Urdu learning tool after Jashn-e-Rekhta programmes in Delhi. Thousands sign up on our Amozish website to get familiar with the Urdu script.”

The audience, meanwhile, was lapping up every bit of acclaimed Urdu scholar Arfa Sayeda Zehra’s pearls. “Mazhab ko zabanon ki zaroorat hoti hain, kisi zaban ko mazhab ki zaroorat nahi hoti (Religion needs language, no language needs religion).” Two men dressed in white on a cushioned baithak recreating tales of a long bygone era would be least expected to deploy feminist tropes, yet that’s exactly what Mahmood Farooqui and Darain Shahidi did in their superlative Dastangoi performance.

A poignant play reflecting the realities of toxic marital relationships was put together by Juhi Babbar Soni and conceptualised by her mother Nadira Zaheer Babbar. The spontaneity of Juhi’s performance which encompassed modern day realities of a single woman in urban India resonated with the crowd.

Some in the crowd, and perhaps rightly so, felt that a two-day schedule was being packed in a single day. But when you speak with Sanjiv Saraf, founder of Rekhta Foundation, it is not difficult to conclude that he is not a man in a hurry. At the age of 55, he started learning Urdu and, through Rekhta, has made it fashionable for millions of others to do the same. The website has 84,000 followers in London who are definitely seeking something much deeper than enhancing their chances of employment.

And that is why Rekhta Foundation UK got support from individuals as varied as eminent lawyer Harish Salve, and Farhan Nizami, director of Oxford Centre for Islamic Studies, to Memon philanthropist Asif Rangoonwala, and Indian industrialist SP Lohia. For the record, Rekhta employs 250 full-time staff; Khalil and Saraf now plan to take the initiative to other Indian languages like Rajasthani and Gujarati.

Irshad Kamil at Jashn-e-Rekhta London. (Photo: Danish Khan)

Unlike the US, UK may not have Urdu scholars of the stature of Frances Pritchett and CM Naim, but Rekhta benefitted from the sagacious and industrious bunch of committed Urdu lovers in London. This includes famous broadcasters Parvez Alam and Achala Sharma, lawyer, author, and Urdu connoisseur Saif Mahmood, orthopaedic consultant and poet Dr Hilal Fareed, young poetess Uruj Asif, sports consultant Irfan Mustafa, and retired IAS couple Loveleen and Mukesh Kacker to name a few. Regular gatherings on Urdu hosted and attended by them have seen participation from Indian diplomats posted in London.

Coming back to the will of the wealthy Afghan. It seems that the inspiration to leave money for Urdu language came because of his friendship with Indian freedom fighter and scholar Syud Hussain, who became India’s first ambassador to Egypt. The recipients of Durrani’s largesse were two scholars Ralph Russell and Khurshidul Islam who collaborated and published volumes on Ghalib and Meer. Islam was a professor of Urdu in Aligarh Muslim University, and Russell was taught Urdu, among others, by another Urdu professor Khalil-ur-Rehman Azmi, father of Huma Khalil.

The New York Times journalist may have been made to believe that Urdu’s legacy lies in Pakistan, but it doesn’t change the fact that Urdu was born and nourished in India.