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| I began the week in Lahore-- in part to look up old friends and in part to get a
better idea of some of the variation in the Punjab. While I was gone the doyen of
the Malik family of Bhalot died of a heart attack. Upon my return to Bhalot I spent
most of the time in one of the Malik dhéras offering my condolences. I spent
one day with a neighbouring farmer from a different village and a different quaum.
The last day of this week was Big Eid or Goat Eid or Eid al hazour. I lived in Lahore for 2 years 16 years ago so it's a city with many old memories and a few old friends. I spent my time trying to hear the differences in language between Lahori Punjabi and Potohari Punjabi (I heard a few-- not enough to excite a serious linguist). I visited the Punjab archives housed in Anarkali's tomb. I found nothing of direct use to me there but learned a great deal about Ranjit Singh's reign (the Sikh king who unified the Punjab in the early 19th century) and the early days of the British Raj. Lahore is a very historical city and so even though I think it was sort of a waste of time as far as my research goes it is always a pleasure to visit Lahore. I arrived back in Taxila (the nearest city to Bhalot) and ran into a Bhaloti within two minutes. While we were having tea he told me that the oldest Malik, Malik Muzzaffar, had died from a heart attack at the age of 104 while I was gone. After leaving that man I ran into one more person on the way to the Suzuki stand who gave me the news. The Suzuki driver also told me about it. Once in the village two more people told me before I arrived back at my room. I was stunned. I have been planning since my arrival to do more extensive interviews with him but was waiting until my Punjabi was a little better. He was a clear headed man and had a great deal of information but I found him very difficult to understand so was waiting. Hindsight being 20/20, I now realize I should have made use of a translator and just gotten the interviews I wanted. While this is not particularly detrimental to my research I will always regret that I didn't get more interviews with him. With me he was always a gentle and kind old man who wanted very much for to enjoy his village and his family. In other contexts he was a fierce man who was not afraid of arguments and quarrels when he believed himself to be in the right. In the local tradition the eldest surviving relative of the deceased is available to receive guest for forty days after the death. In practice the first week is very busy and then things slow down. With a figure as prominent as Malik Muzzaffar from a family as prominent as the Bhaloti Maliks, there are a huge number of visitors. Many of the area politicians (MPA's, Union Council rep's, District Council rep's etc) and administrators have been by to express their sympathies and offer prayers. I have spent most of the past few days sitting in the dhéra with the family of Malik Muzzaffar and their guests. This mourning period is slightly different from the mourning periods I have witnessed up till now. Because of the family's political connections the guests are not simply close family friends but also political allies come to pay respects to a man who was a political power in his day. I took most of one day out to visit a neighbouring zamindar. He is not a Gujar but has close family friendships with the Bhaloti Gujars. I followed him as he purchased insecticide and fertilizer for his vegetables. We toured his orchard and he explained his long term plans for his land. It was interesting to spend the day with s zamindar I know well enough to ask personal questions to but who is not a Bhaloti Malik. He told me the history of his quaum and the situation of his family today. They claim descent from Hazrat Ali and through a rather complex seris of events made their way to northern Punjab. This quaum, K'hatar, seems to be only significant in Attock District. I first came across them last year on my first visit to the area, then I began seeing the name in the Gazetteers for the region. One of the interesting things is that they are not numerically in majority. They are big landowners and successful regional politicians but their tenants tend to be from other quaums. Big Eid, I must admit, is not nearly as much fun as Eid-ul-Fitr. There is much less of a festive atmosphere and the sight of animals being sacrificed in so many of the dhéras is not conducive to fun. I was reminded yet again that it is important to watch animals being killed if you want to eat meat. I have no intention of becoming a vegetarian but when I eat meat I want to appreciate the fact that some animal had to die to provide me with a meal. It didn't make me queasy to eat this meat but it saddens me a bit to know I ate one of the goats with whom I had worked so hard to become friends. I went to one of the local shrines and was struck by just how different the Islamic traditions are in villages. More than ever it struck me that Islam should never be considered a homogenous and standardized religion. For all the orthodoxy espoused by the learned scholars like Maulana Mawdudi and Ayatollah Khomeni, there is a local counterpart which is as vibrant and active as ever. |
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