Satya Narayan Saxena, 86, is probably the last of the deed writers in Delhi. The ninth generation of deed writers or qabala navees , which is what they were called during the Mughal era, Mr. Saxena’s family came to Delhi from Agra to be part of Emperor Shah Jahan’s court at the Red Fort.
Pointing to a black and white photograph of him with his colleagues from the Delhi State Wasiqanaweesan Association, which hangs at his 4x2 feet shop in old Delhi’s Chawri Bazaar, the octogenarian sounded nostalgic as he spoke of the lost glory of his profession. “I am the only surviving member in this photograph. Thanks to computers and the Internet, no one cares about deed writers any more. But I have done it for 70 years and will continue till I die,” said Mr. Saxena.
Time travel
His family was forced to move to Nai Sadak after the British came in and took over the Red Fort. At present, his shop is just a few steps away from Chawri Bazaar metro station and shares a wall with the famous Ashok Chaat Corner.
“I started working with my grandfather when I was 15 years old. I used to come here directly from school. I have five brothers and three sisters, but I took charge because it is tradition that the eldest son takes over,” said Mr. Saxena.
His children decided not to take up the ancestral profession and opened a hardware shop instead, just two lanes away from his shop. “This profession is like a prison; you can never escape it. I could not do it, but I had to let my children and grandchildren out,” he added.
Mr. Saxena opens his shop, which looks nothing like what it was 200 years ago, every day at 11 a.m. and accepts documents till 7 p.m. Later, between 11.30 p.m. and 2 a.m., he types out the documents he received in Hindi — all this on a 25-year-old typewriter.
“I don’t know how to use computers and I don’t want to learn either. You can’t always depend on technology. You need human intervention for some things,” he added, folding some documents.
From weddings to deaths and all other legal registrations, over the years his work has reduced to translating occasional rent agreements and sale deeds from English to Hindi.
Adjusting his spectacles with a slight crease on the forehead, Mr. Saxena rummaged through a box of old documents. Earlier, they would draft the documents in Urdu, he said. They took to Hindi after the government de-recognised Urdu.
Invaluable legacy
Drawing attention to some old Urdu documents that have found a place on the walls, he whispered that these date back to the 1800s and cost around ₹10 lakh each. “Government officials approached me, wanting to buy these documents. But I refused. They are my legacy,” the octogenarian added.
Wiping a tea stain on his white kurta, Mr. Saxena recalled how a Hindu family like his became part of the Mughal court.
“Our family was part of the court of Maharaja Jai Singh of Amer. After an invitation from Shah Jahan, three deed writers were sent from Jaipur and three from Bharatpur,” he said.
He highlighted how, contrary to popular belief, Urdu wasn’t the language of Muslims. It was introduced to the Mughal courts by Raja Todar Mal, said Mr. Saxena.
“Raja Todar Mal was one of the nine advisors in Emperor Akbar’s court. One day, when the emperor asked him why his subjects defied the law, Todar Mal asked Akbar to read a royal order written in Persian (Farsi), which was issued to the people. Akbar screamed at Todar Mal, asking how he could ask the emperor to read when he knew the latter was not literate,” Mr. Saxena narrated.
Raja Todar Mal then told Akbar that if the emperor could not read the order, how would the less fortunate subjects understand it. Akbar then gave Raja Todar Mal six months to develop Urdu as the court language, he continued. “If you cut open a Hindu or Muslim’s body, the blood that flows out is the same colour. Differences have been created by the political class to divide people,” he said.
