Navtej Sarna comes across as a man of few words. His body language stays humble during the course of a conversation. But he talks of the past without nostalgia clouding his judgement. His body of work includes We Were not Lovers Like That and Winter Evenings . And now there is Indians at Herod’s Gate: A Jerusalem Tale, a book as arresting as it is insightful on a subject as layered and controversial as they get: Jerusalem.
Sarna sails through the troubled zone with his calm intact, his standing as a rare author enhanced. Give him a pen and Sarna changes tracks; gone is his diffidence, in comes a rare ability to use words with precision. His pen is his scalpel. Excerpts from an interview.
So Israel has a Saharanpur connection… how did you chance upon this piece of history?
Through the Indian Hospice in old Jerusalem, of course. As I started my conversations with Sheikh Munir Ansari, the director, it turned out his father Sheikh Nazir Ansari who came to Jerusalem in the 1920s actually belonged to a small town of Ambheta in Saharanpur district. The Ali brothers sent him to look after this Indian waqf property that had been there since the days of Baba Sheikh Farid of the Chishti silsila. He visited Jerusalem in the 12th Century. Incidentally I also discovered that Saharanpur comes from Shah Harun, a Sufi who so impressed Mohammed bin Tughlaq that the emperor decreed the place be named after him. Shah Harun — and here is the interesting bit — also belonged to the Chishti silsila . So, perhaps there is a cosmic connection that ensured that a Sheikh from the town of a Chishti saint should go to look after the hospice that traces its origins to another Chishti, Baba Farid.
Jerusalem is revered by Judaism, Christianity and Islam. You add another footnote with the association of Baba Farid, held in high esteem by both Muslims and Sikhs. Could you enlighten us as about Baba Farid’s bond with the place?
Baba Farid was a young mureed or disciple of Moinuddin Chishti’s heir Bakhtiar Kaki. When Farid was 16, his mentor advised him to tour the Islamic countries and meet the leading mystics of the time. For the next 18 years — I believe that would be 1196-1214 — Farid travelled to Ghazini, Baghdad, Afghanistan, Syria, Iran, Mecca, Medina and to Jerusalem, which had been recently opened to Muslims after Saladin’s victory over the Crusaders. It is believed that, in Jerusalem, he fasted and prayed for 40 days in a dark underground room. That ensured that his followers also began to frequent the revered city and the hospice that came up on the place began to be called Zawiya al-Faridiya.
In Jerusalem every piece of stone is affirmed as history; from the creation of Adam to David/ Daud’s Ark to Prophet Muhammad’s mairaj journey. How difficult was it to separate history from competitive faiths?
I had to make a very conscious choice regarding my approach to this story. I had to constantly tell myself that I was writing only about the Indian connection to Jerusalem through the centuries and not trying to analyse the competing narratives.
History is kept on the backburner. There is no raging political story. How difficult was it to avoid the temptation at a place seething with politics?
One had to keep one’s focus on the main story — the story of the hospice, of the Ansari family and of the Indian connection. History and politics of the place was crucial to provide the backdrop against which this Indian drama was being played out and had an inevitable impact on the story itself. Yet it was important to ensure that the background did not become so loud as to drown out the main story itself.
How did the book with a nice mix of history, faith and personal anecdotes, come about?
The writing was a very organic, unforced process. Of course the main source was Sheikh Munir Ansari himself. I had the pleasure of spending days, spread over three years, with him and his family and each conversation resulted in lighting up some aspect of his own story or that of the hospice. Also his son Nazir helped me in locating many documents in their own records as well as in the local archives that enabled us to build up a picture of the past. Some of these were in old Ottoman Arabic and had to be translated. Then there was a lot of reading to be done about the city and many conversations with those who knew the details about different aspects of what is a most complex religious and political landscape. And a lot of walking of the old lanes, following the footsteps of medieval travellers like Evliya Çelebi who have left records and references of what they have seen. These wanderings of the old lanes, visits to the shrines and monuments, or just the sipping of Arabic coffee in little cafés over chance conversations helped me internalise the atmosphere.
Is the Ansari family regarded by the locals as representatives of India, kind of resident ambassadors?
I would believe so. They are highly regarded and their close Indian connection is well known and they are proud to uphold this connection. The Indian tricolour flies on the Hospice when they are welcoming dignitaries. Sheikh Munir was awarded the Pravasi Bharatiya Samman about three years ago.
What is one memory you carried home as an Indian from the experience of writing this book?
As an Indian, I found the entire process of researching and writing most fulfilling. As I discovered one connection after another, I felt I was following in the footsteps of hundreds of Indians, be they pilgrims or soldiers, who have been there before, that there was an undeniable, strong link of India to this important centre of human spirituality.
