Ute Seela
AUTHENTIC CONFUSION
It all starts out with S. asking me to leave my bag and wallet in the car. Then we make our way through a narrow street full of street vendors, beggars, bearded men who have just left the mosque, motorcycles, auto-rickshaw’s, bicycles, and people, people, people. S. seems quite worried whether or not she may be able to maneuver me through this stretch.
Then we meet a group of people which S. knows and together we make our way through a gate and an even narrower street. Left, right, above – flowers, pieces of cloth, food, books. At some stage we are asked to leave our shoes. Oh my goodness, how would one ever find them back…?
On bare feet we go on. Not quite the immaculate marble your feet have always looked forward to… then there is a small tomb. I am told that this is the grave of one of the country’s biggest poets - Amir Khusro. To go inside I have to borrow my friend’s sari to cover my head. Even men need to do so – which makes them tying a handkerchief around their heads. It looks a little silly I have to say.
Inside personal prayers, rituals, some pushing and shoving as people insist to leave the place moving backwards while facing the tomb.
All the time I am keeping woolen threads in my hand. The tradition is to tie them around the ornaments of the marbled walls and make a wish. I do as I am told. Future of a millionaire starts here…
A little later we move to the real shrine – the burial chamber of what is said to be one of the world's most famous Sufi saints, Nizamuddin Auliya. Inside and outside people are praying, meditating, reading verses, tying wool. In front of the shrine a group of musicians is playing music (called qawwali). My friend says it’s false and a rubbish version of the original lyrics. I am confused.
Loads of people are sitting here; it is not quite visible whether they are Hindu’s, Muslims, Christians… There are locals, too – or let’s say people who seem too poor to have made a long journey to visit this particular place. What place is this anyway? (By the way, a brain creating hyperlinks would have helped!)
S. tells me it is one of what they call ‘ syncretic’ sites of worship. Originally a Muslim dargah (place of worship), this place is used by members of other religious communities, too. People come to pray and meditate, but it is also a meeting place for the local community.
So far the pluralistic story of the place. From an outside perspective this seems to be the ideal of peaceful coexistence. Better than tolerance even. Pluralism that makes our eyes shine.
My friend is more skeptical about it. She sees the better off urbanites of Delhi South come to this place. She has her doubts whether they connect to the kind of spiritual dimension of the dargah. Mere tourists staring their eyes out?? Or the privileged wanting to feel good by engaging with ‘the other’? But what are we reading into the minds of the people? Which is a justified motive to come here, to be, whether as a part of it or not? Is ‘allowing others in’ an accepted measurement of ‘tolerance’, ‘openness’, ‘progressiveness’ and does it by default say something about the wahhabi mosque next door that doesn’t allow outsiders in?
Sitting there on this dusty marble with an unknown woman next to me (way into my comfort zone), I am trying to give this a meaning, a label for myself. In the end, where do I go with my good intentions of mingling and engaging if ‘my sort’ (whatever that may be) is assessed into a box of ‘wanting to feel good’ and ‘spoiling the spiritual experience’?
Confusion and unease linger as some wild looking women begin to dance and moan ecstatically, throwing their long hair around. Even my friends don’t quite know where to put this.
We end up, with shoes and other possessions safely at hand, discussing and discussing in one of those upper end cosmopolitan eating places. I feel relief (this at least I know) and excitement. Starting to learn – slowly.
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