An interview with Pir Md. Kawwal of Fatehpur Sikri

natasha chanda acharya

An age has passed me by.

In one corner of the Darwaaza to Salim Chistis’ Dargah, I found an old man sitting with his harmonium and singing. Singing beautifully. You could listen to him singing all day, raagas and kawwalies, and weave fantasies made of kings and queens, musicians and courtesans, of an era gone past. The old man’s name is Pir Muhammad. He sings in Salim Chistis’ Dargah to earn a living, just as his ancestors used to sing in Akbar’s court. His ancestors would get a patronage of one rupee a month, and today he gets the same from the Government of India. A monthly allowance of one rupee a month. I shared his lunch of daal and roti, while he told me the story of his life, of days gone by. To see Fatehpur Sikri through his eyes, as he took me around, singing all the while, was a treasured experience.

“My name is Pir Muhammad “Kawwal”. I live in Fatehpur Sikri. I will be around 70 years of age. I sing in Salim Chisti’s Dargah and have been singing for a long time now, and I am still singing. This is my job, my profession. (yahi mera kaam hai, yehi mera pesha hai.) Since the time of Akbar, my ancestors have been court singers. There was Maula Baksh in Akbar’s court. He was a great singer. During the same time and age that Mia Tansen used to sing in Akbar’s court, my great grandfathers used to play the tabla and the pakhawaj and sing on the tanpura. When the Mughal rein ended and the British rule started, we were assigned to Salim Chistie’s Dargah. In Akbar’s time, our ancestors were paid a salary of Rs. 1.25. There used to be 52 servants in Salim Chistie’s Dargah. There were kawwals, nakkare wale, singers, sweepers, and gardeners; there was a Brahmin bellman. In those days a Rupee had great value. The coins were made in silver. One rupee could buy 5 tons of grain and even though today it has no value, the same salary continues. Since the Government of India came into being, it continued the patronage, ranging from Rs. 1.25 to Rs. 10, but even that stipend has not been coming in for the last 30 years. The in-charge (darogah) used to get Rs. 10 a month, the munshi / accountant Rs. 5 a month, other workers get Rs. 4 each, the water man, Rs. 2, the gardener, 50 paisa, I used to get Rs. 1.25. It is only the tourists who leave token amounts of appreciation, that I can sustain myself. People come and are happy to listen to my songs. All kinds of people come, Rajahs and ministers and foreign tourists. In the British times, there were less travelers, not many people came to see the Taj, or the Agra fort or Fatehpur Sikri, but since Hindustan and Pakistan separated, a lot of tourists come, from all over the world. The times have changed now. (Ab daur badal gaya hai, na.)

Now I have become old. God made me, like who knows what. (Maalik ne mujhe jane kya bana ke bheja.) I have always been sick, in my childhood and youth and old age. I have always suffered ill health. Even now, I am not well. I had 6 sons, all of them died, not a single one survived. Two girls survived, I married them off. I stayed with my parents in poverty. We were artists but we were dependent for two meals a day. Those days, tourists would not come here so I worked in the Dargah and earned some money. Now a days, tourists come so I can make a comfortable living. I have letters, written to me by ministers and some from district magistrates. Some people send photos. In 1980, Indira Gandhi had come here. I have a photograph with her. But I never got that photograph. I tried a lot, wrote letters to Delhi, but they did not send me that photograph. Though I don’t have that photo, it is there, that photo with Indira. That time, others had permission to sing but I was without a permit. Those days were spent in poverty and ill health. I did not have enough money to get myself treated by doctors or “hakeems”. My parents and ancestors left all the property for my cousins. They didn’t leave me anything because I had no children. So bitterness grew within the family and we went our separate ways. Our families are still feuding and even take to violence at times. There’s no one to help me. Even the caretaker has gone against me. He does not want me to sing. I do not listen to him. If the tourists come, I will sing. Why should I not sing? I have proof that I am a servant of the Dargah. That is how I make a living. I have no other means of earning. I don’t even have any elders or children to take care of. (Mere aage peeche bhi to koi nahi hai.) Whatever I earn is enough to feed and clothe me.”

As he sits on the door “Darwaaza” of the Dargah and sings a bandish which goes, “An age has passed me by since the time I have been sitting at your doorstep. Listen to my prayers, O Lord!” (Tere dware pade jug beet gaye, meri araj suno, Khwaja Salim.), the mind is drawn into the corridors of space and time, and one’s purpose and place in the scheme of things.

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somnath

What a tragic life!!!! Cannot believe the amount, Rs.1.
I am curious. Why the change is reflected in tourism after independence / partition? Tajmahal is always an attraction!!!!

natasha chanda acharya

I guess, just that it was politically stable, and tourism is more organised now.

Even I found 1RS to be incredible. I am sure no one in the Government is even aware of it. We need some organised lobbying to bring such people into focus.