Does the past survive only on the whim of time? In one part of the country, Aurangzeb Road has made way for Dr APJ Abdul Kalam Road. And in another, Arcot, once the seat of power of a ruling dynasty, is known more as the name of a cuisine.
As far as palaces go, Chennai’s Amir Mahal, the estate of the Eighth Prince of Arcot, Mohammed Abdul Ali, is of modest proportions. It sits with self-effacing dignity in the red brick and white trimmings of the Indo-Saracenic style favoured by the British architects of the last century at the end of the crowded Zam bazaar area, attracting little or no attention.
Being modest is not by choice, it comes with the territory.
Inheriting legacies and pensions
In the last years of the 17th century, the Mughal emperor Aurangzeb, in a desperate bid to hold on to the unruly Southern Peninsula, proclaimed Zulfikar Ali as the First Nawab of the Carnatic. Zulfikar Ali, who traced his roots back to the Second Caliph Umar ibn al-Khattab, settled down in a hot and humid place called Arcot, now in Tamil Nadu.
Soon after, there was a free-wheeling struggle for power. The British and the French wiped everyone off the map in their battle for supremacy. The British had a particularly hard time with the local warlords, or Poligars, some of whom were re-invented with time as freedom fighters. The Nawabs of Arcot sided with the French and lost their clout in the Carnatic.
When the thirteenth Nawab of the Carnatic died without leaving an heir – or as the historians say “no issue” – and the kingdom was about to disappear into the British coffers, one of his uncles was wise enough to hotfoot it to London and appeal to Queen Victoria.
She being a lady of some compassion as also girth said: “Look here my friend. Let us compromise. You give up all your rights as a ruler, or Nabob, nice word that, if we may say so, and we shall ask the Secretary of Indian affairs to nominate you for a permanent pension as a ‘Political Pensioner’.”
She is also apocryphally rumoured to have said: “Let me shake your Pagodas [the coinage of the time], and you’ll get one Pagoda from me.”
The pension today is the same amount as that promised in 1867, says Nawab Mohammed Asif Ali over a sumptuous table laden with the choicest of dishes from the Amir Mahal kitchen prepared with the assistance of the chefs of a leading hotel. “It’s of course negligible in today’s currency but we still remain the proud owners of Amir Mahal and its legacy.”
Nawabs of the past
We are tucking into small golden Pagoda-shaped discs of saffron scented milk over round slices of rice powder-based bread called “double ka meetha”. There are tender reminders of some of the better-known cuisines of Hyderabad and Lucknow in the Arcot repertoire, from the stewed aubergines and paneer slices layered with dry fruits and mint chutney to the yeast leavened breads. Certain elements such as the hot round chilies that baste slices of fried fish, or the coupling of cashew nut and poppy seed in a pale chicken korma, are what make the cuisine of the Nawabs of Arcot special. It may be modest, but it possesses zing.
Sharing his legacy is what has brought Asif Ali out of his palace gates and into the hotel's magnificent interiors, where cream marble banisters carved Rajasthani style curve up a white marble staircase to meet a flamboyant mural of horses under the glow of crystal chandeliers. Asif Ali is magnificently attired in a close-fitting white raw silk ensemble with discrete ruched embroidery and a collar rimmed with gold braid. His passion, besides food, is planning soirees at Amir Mahal and conducting quiz programmes.
When he mentions rabbit and venison as some of the exotic meats that used to be served on the tables of the Nawabs in the past, I am reminded of the Nawabs of Tonk in distant Rajasthan.
Tonk is the only surviving Muslim kingdom in Rajasthan. It’s tucked away in a dry and dusty landscape of acacia trees and River Banas about a hundred kilometres to the east of Jaipur. The Tonk Nawabs are of Pashtun origin who were at one time patrons of Persian and Arabic literature. Many of those documents have been preserved in the town’s archives.
The whims of time
The first Nawab of Tonk, Muhammed Amir Khan, was a Pashtun warlord who sided with the Marathas against the British. An attempt was made to bracket his men with the local marauding tribes of the Pindaris. But when he resisted and proved his “royal” credentials, he was allowed to settle down as a hereditary ruler and a man of peace at Tonk. Here again, a settlement was granted: the Nawab and his descendants would be given a pension for perpetuity.
As it happened, the Rajasthan government had second thoughts on the subject, but as late as in 2009 it was forced to resume the promise. It is said that each of the 570-odd descendants of the Tonk family is assured of a pension of Rs 100 per month.
The golden era of Tonk was in the last years of the 19th century when one of the Nawabs, Mohammed Ebrahim Alikhan (1867-1930), built the exquisite Summer Pavilion known as the Sunehri Kothi, or Golden Bungalow. It is now the only reason to make a trip to Tonk. The kothi is a jewel box of exquisite delight with real gold leaf on the walls and enamel, mirror and glass inlay work.
The Tonk Palace itself is a crumbling structure. On the hot afternoon I went to the palace, there was no-one to be seen except one beautifully clad young man with a wire mesh cage at his feet. It was covered with a fine embroidered cloth. He gestured to me to approach. When I bent down, he gently removed the cloth. Inside was a beautiful creature with a golden plumage and eyes the colour of rubies – a hunting hawk.
“For rabbits,” the young man said. Was he the last of the Tonks? The Nawabs hunting for rabbits?
For a brief moment, the past peered into the present. But will it survive into the future? The whims of time will decide.
We welcome your comments at
letters@scroll.in.
As far as palaces go, Chennai’s Amir Mahal, the estate of the Eighth Prince of Arcot, Mohammed Abdul Ali, is of modest proportions. It sits with self-effacing dignity in the red brick and white trimmings of the Indo-Saracenic style favoured by the British architects of the last century at the end of the crowded Zam bazaar area, attracting little or no attention.
Being modest is not by choice, it comes with the territory.
Inheriting legacies and pensions
In the last years of the 17th century, the Mughal emperor Aurangzeb, in a desperate bid to hold on to the unruly Southern Peninsula, proclaimed Zulfikar Ali as the First Nawab of the Carnatic. Zulfikar Ali, who traced his roots back to the Second Caliph Umar ibn al-Khattab, settled down in a hot and humid place called Arcot, now in Tamil Nadu.
Soon after, there was a free-wheeling struggle for power. The British and the French wiped everyone off the map in their battle for supremacy. The British had a particularly hard time with the local warlords, or Poligars, some of whom were re-invented with time as freedom fighters. The Nawabs of Arcot sided with the French and lost their clout in the Carnatic.
When the thirteenth Nawab of the Carnatic died without leaving an heir – or as the historians say “no issue” – and the kingdom was about to disappear into the British coffers, one of his uncles was wise enough to hotfoot it to London and appeal to Queen Victoria.
She being a lady of some compassion as also girth said: “Look here my friend. Let us compromise. You give up all your rights as a ruler, or Nabob, nice word that, if we may say so, and we shall ask the Secretary of Indian affairs to nominate you for a permanent pension as a ‘Political Pensioner’.”
She is also apocryphally rumoured to have said: “Let me shake your Pagodas [the coinage of the time], and you’ll get one Pagoda from me.”
The pension today is the same amount as that promised in 1867, says Nawab Mohammed Asif Ali over a sumptuous table laden with the choicest of dishes from the Amir Mahal kitchen prepared with the assistance of the chefs of a leading hotel. “It’s of course negligible in today’s currency but we still remain the proud owners of Amir Mahal and its legacy.”
Nawabs of the past
We are tucking into small golden Pagoda-shaped discs of saffron scented milk over round slices of rice powder-based bread called “double ka meetha”. There are tender reminders of some of the better-known cuisines of Hyderabad and Lucknow in the Arcot repertoire, from the stewed aubergines and paneer slices layered with dry fruits and mint chutney to the yeast leavened breads. Certain elements such as the hot round chilies that baste slices of fried fish, or the coupling of cashew nut and poppy seed in a pale chicken korma, are what make the cuisine of the Nawabs of Arcot special. It may be modest, but it possesses zing.
Sharing his legacy is what has brought Asif Ali out of his palace gates and into the hotel's magnificent interiors, where cream marble banisters carved Rajasthani style curve up a white marble staircase to meet a flamboyant mural of horses under the glow of crystal chandeliers. Asif Ali is magnificently attired in a close-fitting white raw silk ensemble with discrete ruched embroidery and a collar rimmed with gold braid. His passion, besides food, is planning soirees at Amir Mahal and conducting quiz programmes.
When he mentions rabbit and venison as some of the exotic meats that used to be served on the tables of the Nawabs in the past, I am reminded of the Nawabs of Tonk in distant Rajasthan.
Tonk is the only surviving Muslim kingdom in Rajasthan. It’s tucked away in a dry and dusty landscape of acacia trees and River Banas about a hundred kilometres to the east of Jaipur. The Tonk Nawabs are of Pashtun origin who were at one time patrons of Persian and Arabic literature. Many of those documents have been preserved in the town’s archives.
The whims of time
The first Nawab of Tonk, Muhammed Amir Khan, was a Pashtun warlord who sided with the Marathas against the British. An attempt was made to bracket his men with the local marauding tribes of the Pindaris. But when he resisted and proved his “royal” credentials, he was allowed to settle down as a hereditary ruler and a man of peace at Tonk. Here again, a settlement was granted: the Nawab and his descendants would be given a pension for perpetuity.
As it happened, the Rajasthan government had second thoughts on the subject, but as late as in 2009 it was forced to resume the promise. It is said that each of the 570-odd descendants of the Tonk family is assured of a pension of Rs 100 per month.
The golden era of Tonk was in the last years of the 19th century when one of the Nawabs, Mohammed Ebrahim Alikhan (1867-1930), built the exquisite Summer Pavilion known as the Sunehri Kothi, or Golden Bungalow. It is now the only reason to make a trip to Tonk. The kothi is a jewel box of exquisite delight with real gold leaf on the walls and enamel, mirror and glass inlay work.
The Tonk Palace itself is a crumbling structure. On the hot afternoon I went to the palace, there was no-one to be seen except one beautifully clad young man with a wire mesh cage at his feet. It was covered with a fine embroidered cloth. He gestured to me to approach. When I bent down, he gently removed the cloth. Inside was a beautiful creature with a golden plumage and eyes the colour of rubies – a hunting hawk.
“For rabbits,” the young man said. Was he the last of the Tonks? The Nawabs hunting for rabbits?
For a brief moment, the past peered into the present. But will it survive into the future? The whims of time will decide.
