Delhi has lost much of its cherished ambience because of the changes brought about by time. Many of the melas, pastimes and odd professions have gone out of vogue. Up to the 1960s, the streets of Old Delhi still had remnants of this vanished culture. There used to be a hookahwalah, Khadim Mukhtar Ahmad, who used to walk up and down Matia Mahal Street, offering a smoke to passers-by, who tipped him at will. There was also a pankhawallah, Rais Mian, who carried a huge embroidered cloth fan fixed to a wooden frame which he waved over a person in summer and got baksheesh. Then there was a man (Alemo Qadamprasth) who carried a big broom with which he would sweep the ground in front of someone, saluted him and, more often than not, got a tip.
Another character who has disappeared is the Singiwallah, Chandan Gujar. He appeared in the afternoon with the cry, “Singhilagwalo”. Singhi was actually the aquatic leech found in ponds and lakes and other water bodies and used to extract “bad blood” from a person’s veins in the leg or arm. Letting out blood was an old medical practice based on the theory of the humours or four fluids in the body (blood, phlegm, bile and choler) which determined one’s mental and physical make-up. After drawing out the bad blood the leech bloated up and fell off the limb to which it was attached as though exhausted.
Yet another character who has vanished is Masoom Albela, wearing a torn shirt, with red colour applied to his body (indicating blood marks). He had a rag tied to his forehead and with this haggard appearance enacted the part of the celebrated Majnu, who suffered physical attacks from those opposed to his affair with Laila, the rival tribe Arabian beauty. In the tamasha, Majnu would recite parts of the epic by Nizami and cry and moan for his beloved Laila. A crowd always collected to watch him at his antics and left after throwing coins in the begging bowl of the performer, who then moved to another locality.
Offering at the shrine
In this category also came the custom of Ghori Chadna, in which a boy dressed as a bridegroom was taken on horseback up to the steps of the Jama Masjid and back home after recovery from illness. The horse owner got a hefty amount for the ceremony. Another practice now discontinued was the blessing by the bhisti or water-carrier, who poured out water from his mashak on a laddoo brought by a child’s mother after his recovery from typhoid, malaria, measles or some other disease. The Bhishti also sprinkled some water on the child as part of his blessing and then collected the alms offered to him. One other custom that has almost ceased to be observed was the offering of the pankha.
People trying to fall asleep on the terrace on a summer night wood strain their ears in disbelief as the sound of music came faintly at first and then in a cadence. Some rushed downstairs, others leaned on the parapet. A pankha was being taken to the distant shrine and the music makers were the qawwals. Many are aware of the pankhas offered at Mehrauli during the annual Phool Walon-ki-Sair. But the offering of pankhas at the dargah of Shah Abul Ullah at Agra is peculiar to that city.
The offering is in perpetuation of a vow — a marriage, the birth of a child, recovery from illness, employment and various other reasons. The pankha is hardly a fan it is more in the shape of a small doolie, decorated with curtains and a vase in the centre with joss-sticks burning. The one who is offering the pankha is among the procession of friends, relatives, acquaintances and others who join in out of fellow feeling; devotion to ritual or just for the fun of it.
The pankha is carried by a man who treats such occasions, as side business. When the qawwali singers stop, he stops but keeps the load on his head. Crossings and central places in the bazaar are the usual stopping points — or may be the house of a friend or relative. Women peep from behind curtains, chicks or half-closed doors. The indiscreet stare at the unveiled faces, trying to catch a resemblance of someone they had seen at the Id fair or a Moharrum gathering or at a wedding. But that’s beside the point. We all love a pretty face, don’t we?
Meanwhile, the pankha procession reaches the shrine. Gone are the unveiled faces and gone too the hustle-bustle of the bazaar. In their place is a serene setting of faith as the pankha is solemnly offered — only the trappings, for the doolie is returned to the man from whom it was hired. The precisionists walk back home in small groups and the night begins to settle down to its long hours of solitude until it’s time to offer the next pankha. This observance unfortunately is not witnessed in Delhi anymore.
