Princess Abida Sultaan writes
about the time her grandmother abdicated in
favour of her son (the princess' father),
bringing to a close 107 years of women's
rule in the princely state of Bhopal.
Sarkar Amman had established a personal
rapport with King George V and Queen Mary
during their visit to India when he had been
the Prince of Wales and subsequently during
his coronation in 1911. Before her audience
with the King, she was advised by the
Buckingham Palace staff that she should not
take more than fifteen minutes of His
Majesty's time and that it would not be
polite to be seated in His Majesty's
presence. She was also reminded that His
Majesty was a constitutional monarch and
that the British Cabinet took all political
decisions.
Sarkar Amman was received graciously by King
George V and after an exchange of
courtesies, she put forward her case! Out of
her five children, she had only one left
who, according to Muslim law, took
precedence over her grandchildren. Her son
was better educated, better trained and more
experienced, as he had held various
portfolios in the state. He had been
attached to the Viceroy's and the Prince of
Wales's staff. He was a renowned polo player
and an all round sportsman.
In contrast, her grandsons had regrettably
been pampered and not given the benefit of a
proper education. They were not even
matriculates, nor had they ever attended
school. They were afraid of horses
(sacrilege!), and played no outdoor games.
They were already dissipating themselves
with women and mistreating her loyal
subjects by having young girls abducted for
their pleasures.
The latest incident was of Rafique Mian
having horsewhipped Bhopal's prime minister
who had been left in charge of running the
state during Sarkar Amman's visit to
England. King George V gave her a patient
hearing and explained over and over again
that he was a constitutional monarch who
could not interfere with the decisions of
his government.
"But Your Majesty, you are the King Emperor!
The sun never sets on your great Empire, and
you are telling me that you can't undo an
injustice to an old woman who has travelled
all the way from India and suffered your
severe winter. Look! Look at me; I'm
pleading for my Treaty Rights. The Rights
that your ancestors granted to mine! I
treated Queen Victoria like my mother", said
Sarkar Amman, as she uncovered her face by
removing her naqab showing her grey
hair and wrinkles to an embarrassed monarch.
King George again pleaded with her. He tried
to console her and gently led her to a seat
where she burst into tears. Sarkar Amman
would neither understand nor be consoled and
began talking in a mixture of English, Urdu,
Persian and Arabic, and then she fainted!
A doctor was summoned. Queen Mary rushed in
with her ladies with smelling salts, and the
fifteen-minute audience stretched to an hour
and a quarter before Sarkar Amman was
revived and considered fit enough to return
to Belmont House. On her return, she felt
that her audience with the King Emperor had
gone well and had not been in vain!
During all these months, we were not
supposed to concern ourselves with the
affairs of the elders, nor had we the time
or inclination to do so. Thus we had
remained utterly ignorant of how Sarkar
Amman's case was progressing with the
British government. However, British
government documents reveal that in May 1925
the Viceroy, Lord Reading, had torn to
shreds Sarkar Amman's arguments in favour of
her son and had firmly recommended that
Habibullah be recognized as the heir to the
throne. These arguments had been questioned
by the India Office in London, which had
detected flaws in the Viceroy's legal
reasoning. By the time we arrived in London,
the succession issue had been re-opened,
presenting a glimmer of hope for Sarkar
Amman.
Soon after her remarkable performance at
Buckingham Palace, Lord Birkenhead informed
Sarkar Amman on February 2, 1926, that the
British government had decided in favour of
her son. British records indicate that Lord
Reading's initial advice conveyed in a
Memorandum, dated May 21, 1925, had been
questioned on legal grounds by the India
Office as not having considered pre-1857
customary law relating to state succession.
A subsequent review (January 13, 1926) had
seen the Viceroy reverse his earlier
conclusion, and recommended that Prince
Hamidullah Khan succeed his mother.
Sarkar Amman abdicates
That night there were no celebrations at
Belmont. The old Matriarch had fought
against seemingly impossible odds. She had
never given up hope of seeing her son
succeed to the Bhopal throne and her final
triumph saw her take to her janamaz
and offer countless prayers in thanksgiving
to Allah in whom she had placed all her
faith. Then on May 17, 1926 without
consulting anyone or informing the British
government, Sarkar Amman announced from
Belmont House that she was abdicating in
favour of her son. My father was, therefore,
to become the first male ruler of Bhopal
after 107 years of women's rule.
We packed our bags, bade farewell to the
many friends we had made and set forth on
our return journey to India, again on the ss
Kaiser-i-Hind.
* * * * *
Purdah
On our arrival in Bombay, I received a shock
when Sarkar Amman blandly announced that I
would have to wear one of Beeva's burqas
when disembarking and observe purdah
thereafter! True, I was as tall as my
mother and, according to Islamic Shariat, an
adult. But I would be only thirteen in
August. How could I be condemned to
purdah especially at a time when I was
eagerly looking forward to my horses, polo
and guns?
I was so miserable and upset by this
decision that I took no notice of anything
when my father stepped on Indian soil for
the first time as the Ruler of Bhopal. The
thought that once my father was ruler, I
would be next in line of succession never
even crossed my mind. Purdah was a cruel
blow, struck at a time when everyone else
was rejoicing and celebrating Sarkar Amman's
triumphant return from England. No effort
had been made to mentally prepare an
athletic, outdoor girl like me to a lifelong
incarceration behind a veil. I wondered what
the meaning was of all the emphasis and
pride in making us ride, drive cars, play
rough games, shoot and be constantly
reminded that we had to prove ourselves
better than our 'backward' male cousins, if
it was all to end abruptly at the age of
twelve behind a burqa.
Apart from the misery that gnawed inside me,
everyone was making fun of me. My father, my
mother, my sisters, my cousins, Dadabhai, Dr
Johory, Kammoo and the rest of our
entourage! For them, it was the joke of the
season! Once again, I found myself hating
Sarkar Amman and everything she stood for!
'The old tyrant will be coming out in her
true colours as soon as we approach Bhopal!'
I fumed.
On the train from Bombay, we found
ourselves, as usual, in Sarkar Amman's
railway saloon. I was vaguely aware of a
crowd and bands playing anthems and was
painfully hurt at being continuously teased
by my sisters and cousins who asked me how
it felt to be inside a burqa! Gone
were the days when I used to be among the
first to jump off the train before it came
to a stop to buy puris and saag, at
the stations. Now the shutters were drawn
before the station arrived and I was
reminded that I had to keep myself out of
sight because I was now in purdah! My
sisters ran off as before, tittering and
asking me what they could bring back for me
as I struggled to hold back my tears for
having suddenly become a prisoner.
The following morning as we reached Bhopal
territory, our saloon and other carriages
that were occupied by our party were
disconnected from the regular train and
converted into a special train to enable us
to stop wherever a crowd gathered. At every
stop, my father and Sarkar Amman appeared in
the doorway to be garlanded and to
acknowledge the devoted homage of their
people. Sarkar Amman frequently addressed
them in her own colourful style.
As we neared Bhopal City, our progress
became slow and monotonous. At one such
stop, I was displayed to the people in a
burqa - and made to stand with my father
and grandmother. I was introduced to them as
their future heir apparent and was given the
title of 'Gohar-Taj'. Then, Sarkar Amman
dramatically took off her tiara and put it
on my head. But nothing she or anyone else
did could take the sullen look off my face
or compensate me for having been put into
purdah!
The crowds grew larger as we neared Bhopal
Station. From there up to Qasr-i-Sultani
there were oceans of wildly cheering people,
the streets decorated with flowers, coloured
bunting and arches. Apart from the formal
salute of twenty-one guns, people were
firing their own guns, rifles, or pistols
into the air as their personal contribution
to the celebration.
At Qasr-i-Sultani, there were hundreds of
women and children waiting to offer their
felicitations to Sarkar Amman in the zenana.
Similarly, in the mardana, men had
gathered to congratulate my father.
The atmosphere reminded me of my nashra
with everyone dancing and singing all
night for countless days. Sarkar Amman's
favourite mirasan, 'Chhuttan ki Bahoo',
leading about eight different groups of
other mirasans, screaming their songs at the
top of their voices. All of them sang
different songs with different tunes all at
once! Most of them were in their mid-fifties
and their voices were uglier than their
faces producing an awful cacophony.
There was a new pair of mirasans, who
called themselves Narbadi and Khurshid. They
sang in unison, danced much better, were not
so ugly and were younger than the rest.
These two were monopolized by us, the
younger generation. Thus I was able to lose
myself in Narbadi and Khurshid's musical
performances and temporarily forget about
being in purdah.
Although the Sikandaria Boarding School had
disappeared (there was no one in it now) the
'Big Girls' and the 'Little Girls' joined in
the celebrations with the Baqi-khels
prominent. So did all the other leading
families, except the Jalalabadis, who
performed the 'Rope Trick' and became
invisible altogether! Habib Mian having lost
the case, his supporters were not prepared
to celebrate the victory of Hamidullah Khan
and Sarkar Amman!
This made the Jalalabadis even more
unpopular at Qasr-i-Sultani but I have
always admired them for having the strength
of character and remaining loyal to their
convictions. Habib Mian left Bhopal for good
and went away to live in Poona. He never
came back except once, briefly, to attend
his brother's (Rafique Mian) wedding. At
that wedding my father got up and tried to
embrace him but Habib Mian stiffly withdrew!
During celebrations for my father's
accession, someone suddenly remembered that
Sarkar Amman's Silver Jubilee had been
overlooked. My father and everyone around
insisted on celebrating it. But Sarkar Amman
had found greater contentment in installing
her 'Little Hamid' on the throne, rather
than 'inflicting herself' on her subjects.
"I need peace and quiet to prepare myself
for appearing before my Creator", she
repeated. "I have abdicated and I shall not
allow the state to make unnecessary expenses
on celebrating my jubilee." That was final.
Everyone knew it.
So, instead of a state durbar at Sadar
Manzil, a private durbar at Qasr-i-Sultani
was held to satisfy her devoted officials
and family. No special invitations were
issued and there were no lights or
decorations. She wore her usual cotton kurta
and a cotton dupatta (always white,
ever since she had become a widow) with her
customary chintz pyjama. She sat, as always,
on her little white gaddi on the
floor but graciously allowed those who
wanted to present nazars to her, to
do so. As the atmosphere was already
festive, I would not have known of her
Silver Jubilee had the three of us not been
instructed by our father to present our
nazars to her on that day.
Princess Abida Sultaan (1913-2002)
was the heir apparent of Bhopal. Sacrificing
a comfortable existence, she was the only
heir of a major Indian princely state to
have migrated to Pakistan. She served as its
ambassador to Brazil and entered politics in
the sixties to support Miss Jinnah's
campaign against military dictatorship.
This book comprises the memoirs of Princess
Abida Sultaan. Providing vivid descriptions,
it takes off from the era of the princely
states to the independence movement and the
emergence of Pakistan till present times.
Challenging the subdued portrayal of women,
the autobiography brings forth a strong and
proud woman who would not compromise her
principles and convictions. |
|
|
