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| Photo Credits: Suhani Kumar |
Following a wobbly rikshaw ride,
wading through the lively and spirited streets of Chandni Chowk teeming with
people, a few moments of spiritual reflection on the grounds of the magnificent
Jama Masjid and an extravagant yet cost-effective meal of Tandoori roti and
Mutton Quorma right across the legendary mosque in the Urdu Bazar, I was sitting
across Khatib Mohammad Ghalib in his Urdu Bazar shop.
Ghalib
does not just deal in Urdu books at his shop - Kutub Khana Anjuman-e-Taraqqi-e-Urdu, he
lovingly dabbles in the ancient art of calligraphy, not just as a publisher or
book-seller, but as a master of the
ancient and splendid art form.
Calligraphy in Persian, Arabic and Urdu, in India, witnessed its pinnacle during the reign of the Mughal rulers. In those times, calligraphy was a much revered form of art, flourishing under the patronage of the emperors. Calligraphy, then, used to be an elaborate affair, involving an army of skilled professionals, from calligraphers to miniature artists supported by the ruler, employed to prepare biographical accounts of the monarch’s administrative accomplishments, military triumphs, lavish lifestyle and so on.
Now in his late fifties, Ghalib spent his childhood in Saharanpur and was trained in the art at Darul Uloom, Deoband. The hours flit by as Ghalib carefully picked out books on calligraphy and explained to me the intricacies of the art. Listening to him talk about maintaining complete accuracy even in the minute of measurements and providing constant attention even to the smallest of detail, I could only imagine the meticulous perseverance and patience he and other calligraphers like him must be required to dedicate.
Arrayed behind him were panels with various kinds of 'nibs' or specialised chiseled wooden pens meant for calligraphy. These differed in width and sizes.
Sheets of paper containing a marvelous collection of his actual works were rolled out for me to gaze and wonder at their beauty and refinement, awe-struck and speechless. He explained how even in Urdu calligraphy, there were miscellaneous fonts that could be used.
While the technological innovation of computerised calligraphy has its own advantages, it has reduced the demand for the hand- crafted art. While he does often use the computer for quicker delivery to customers, Ghalib said the mechanised version lacks the detail and intricacy of hand work. There is a loss of personal touch.
Talking
about the use of gold in Calligraphy, he articulated that it isn't feasible
anymore, as no one has the time, interest and most importantly even the money
to invest in such a project, unlike ancient times.
In contemporary times, orders are mostly placed for marriage cards, calendars and certificates for schools instructing in Urdu, for binding covers for books, such as the sacred Quran, and during elections for posters. During the month of Ramzan, a lot of calligraphic work is ordered ranging from excerpts from the Quran to poetry (sher-o-shayari).
When I asked him whether there
were schools which imparted the art of calligraphy, he told me there was a
steady decline, only limited to certain schools with an Islamic orientation.
Being an art which doesn't bring home a lot of profit or a stable income, the
younger generations are disinterested in learning the art form.
Later that day, my mind wandered
back to the wonderful afternoon and I could feel an sharp sense of poignancy, contemplating upon how an art once so glorious was dwindling away into the
ruins of time. Was the art, majestic even in its fall, going to face the fate
of lost splendor, written to dust? Would it also be fit as a long forgotten
tale of the ancient past with a legacy bound to wear away?
