3: MAKING MUSLIMS
Identity and difference in Indian madrasas
Arshad Alam
The present chapter is an attempt to understand the formation of contemporary Muslim identity in India. The central tool through which understanding is sought is, in Clifford Geertz’s words, ‘the master institution’ of Muslim society, the madrasas, or centres of Islamic learning. Scholarly works on madrasas in India have largely had a historical focus. Metcalf has shown how Deoband madrasa was central in the articulation of Indian Muslim identity during the nineteenth century (Metcalf 1982). Similarly Sanyal’s work has shown how the Ahl-i Sunnatwa
Jama’at, through the writings of Ahmad Riza Khan constructed its identity against that of the Deobandis and the Ahl-i Hadith (Sanyal 1999). Both these works have been central in identifying that there has never been a single monolithic Muslim identity in India. Rather Indian Muslim identity itself has been a site of contest, among different social groups and different interpretations of texts. However, partly owing to the historical nature of their works, neithertell
how this identity is actually formed. What are the processes and mechanisms that go into the making of this identity? In other words, what is missing from their analyses is the process of identity formation. It is these processes and mechanisms which are the central focus of this chapter. In this chapter, I enquire into Muslim identity formation by looking at a madrasa and the kind of educational strategies adopted therein for the inculcation of a Muslim identity. In other words, I ask how this construction of identity takes place. The chapter is divided into three parts. The first part looks at the prescribed syllabus and the books therein which are taught to the students and how they impart a certain identity to an average madrasa student. The second part is concerned with those books which are not part of the formal syllabus, but are nevertheless prescribed for self-study and are important for the self-identity of the students. The last part describes the institutionalized performance of constructing identity and creating difference. The chapter is largely the outcome of fieldwork conducted during 2004 and 2005 in which I made use of the methods of observation and interviews.
Most of the observations in the chapter relate to a Barelwi
madrasa called Ashrafiyya. But for the purposes of further clarity, I have occasionally 45 contrasted it with a Deobandi madrasa called Ihya al-Ulum. It is therefore important that we should start with a brief history of both these institutions.
The madrasas Ashrafiyya and Ihya al-Ulum are both located in Qasba Mubarakpur, in the district of Azamgarh, North India. The qasba (town) is dominated by Muslims, primarily comprising the lower Muslim caste of Ansari (weaver). Both the madrasas have a common origin in a madrasa called Misbah al-Ulum which was formed in the 1920s through local initiative (Misbahi 1975: 8). Differences over whether Allah could lie or not led to a split within this madrasa so that those who argued that Allah could lie moved out of the premises and formed their own madrasa called Ihya al-Ulum. For the teachers who stayed with the old Misbah al-Ulum, the founders of the new madrasa were Deobandis.
However, even after this, the Friday prayers continued to be said under the same imam, which meant that the differences had not become so acute. It was during 1934–6 that the qasba witnessed intense ideological rivalry bolstered by the arrival of two prominent personalities, each belonging to the rival madrasa.
Misbah al-Ulum got a new teacher in the person of Abd al-Aziz, who was a student and khalifa of Amjad Ali,
a revered alim of the area. On the other hand, the rival Ihya al-Ulum saw amongst its ranks Shukrullah Mubarakpuri, who had freshly graduated from the famous madrasa at Deoband. Both were convinced of the falsity of the other and what ensued was a wide debate (munazara) in the qasba on ‘true’ Islam. By the end of this two-year period of ideological rivalry, both sides claimed victory. Yet the most important result was not who won, but that the qasba had become so ideologically polarized that parallel Friday prayers started being held in different mosques. The Deobandis led by Ihya al-Ulum and Shukhrullah Mubarakpuri and the Barelwis led by Abd al-Aziz and Misbah al- Ulum were busy carving out spheres of influence for their own respective denominations centred on their respective madrasas.
Owing to a number of factors, the prefix Ashrafiyya was added to Misbah al- Ulum, by which name it is known today. Also due to many factors, Ashrafiyya was able to develop itself much more, compared to its rival Ihya al-Ulum.
Today, while Ashrafiyya has grown to accommodate about 1500 students in its various hostels, Ihya al-Ulum has the capacity to provide for only about 250.
The influence of the Madrasa Ashrafiyya is also apparent through the fact that the majority of the Muslims in Mubarakpur belong to the Barelwi denomination (maslak). Moreover, its donor networks as well as composition of students are much more geographically varied compared to Ihya al-Ulum. The prestige it commands has made it the apex madrasa of Barelwi Muslims.
It is important at this stage to say a few words about the differences between the Deobandis and the Barelwis. The chapter will be replete with examples of finer differences between the two denominations. It is sufficient here to state that the basic difference stems over ways to understand the personhood of Prophet Muhammad. For the Barelwis, Muhammad is not just a model man, as the Deobandis claim; rather he was bestowed with special powers which make him truly unique. For the Deobandis, the Prophet was a model man, to be emulated, but not to be venerated since according to them it constitutes associating partners to Allah (shirk). All other differences emanate from this basic difference over the personality of the Prophet Muhammad. And through their networks of madrasas, this difference is transmitted to the students. It is with the strategies of this transmission that the present chapter is concerned. I have observed these strategies in Madrasa Ashrafiyya, thus most of the chapter will draw from Ashrafiyya. I use the example of Ihya al-Ulum solely for the purpose of comparative elucidation.
Dastur-i Amal
The formative influences on Ashrafiyya during the debates of 1934–6 have been so definitive that its reflection can be found in its Constitution (Dastur-i Amal). The document not only envisages the growth and development of the madrasa, but also specifically states that the madrasa will be ‘Sunni’
in its orientation. At least three of the objectives laid down in its dastur clearly relate to the propagation of their own maslak.
The
very first objective of the madrasa is to ‘spread education of true religion’. The dastur goes on define ‘true religion’ as the madhhab of Ahl-i Sunnatwa
Jama’at. Further down it mentions that a ‘Sunni’ is one who follows and practises the path of Ala Hazrat.
It reiterates this definition of Barelwis by further mentioning that a Sunni is one who believes in every word written by ‘Ala Hazrat’. However, to be a ‘Sunni’ it is not enough just to believe in every word of Ala Hazrat. At the same time he has to struggle against the Deobandis, Ahl-i Hadith, Shias, etc. Thus, against the rather amorphous category of Deobandis and Barelwis, the founders of Ashrafiyya perhaps for the first time give us a clear definition of who they consider to be Barelwi. Those who do not subscribe to their definition are simply outside the pale of Islam.
Moreover, a Barelwi has to consistently struggle against those it considers as bad-madhhabis.
Apart from these clauses, the dastur also has a section which it calls ‘nonchangeable laws’ (ghair mutabaddil usul). They are three in number, and two of them call attention once again to the very Barelwi character of the madrasa.
Clause one states that ‘members of this madrasa, from a humble sweeper to the Manager (Nazim-i Ala), should all be the followers of Ahl-i Sunnat wa Jama’at’. No non-Sunni should ever find a place in this madrasa. It further mentions that ‘if for any reason this madrasa falls into the hands of a non-Sunni, then any Sunni from anywhere in India will have the right to move to court in order to bring back the madrasa into the hands of the Sunnis once again’. Clause three of this Principle makes it mandatory for all officials of the madrasa including the members of General Committee (Majlis-i Shura) and Working Committee (Majlis-i Amal) to take a pledge of loyalty to the madrasa. This pledge of loyalty also includes the statement, ‘I am a true Sunni Muslim and I believe in every word of Hussam al-Haramain.’ Writing about medieval Damascus, Chamberlain argues that books had many uses at that time including being the source ofbaraka
; hence they were not only revered but also served as tools of political opposition (Chamberlain 1997). To these multifarious uses must be added the usage of a book against which faith was to be measured, as exemplified by Ashrafiyya in its ritualistic insistence on confirming membership of their community by reciting a pledge.
Hussam al-Haramain, a polemical work written in 1906 by Ahmad Riza Khan, is a collection of fatwas against the ‘Deobandis’ and ‘Wahhabis’. It was in this work that Ahmad Riza Khan had pronounced the fatwa of kufr on some of the ulama of Deoband and by extension anyone associated with the Deoband madrasa (on Husam al-Haramain, see Sanyal 1999: 231–40). Ashrafiyya perhaps is not unique in insisting that its members and officials all belong to the school which it terms ‘true Islam’. All madrasas do so. Thus, the Ihya al-Ulum also insists that its teachers and others ‘responsible’ (zimmedaran) should be the followers of their maslak, which they argue is the ‘correct Islam’.
Even in madrasas where this has not been put down in the dastur, there will be a marked preference of recruiting teachers and other officials of the madrasa from within the maslak. What distinguishes Madrasa Ashrafiyya’s effort is its insistence on taking a pledge on a book written by Ahmad Riza. Even some Barelwis
of the qasba are uncomfortable with this clause since they argue that loyalty should be only for Allah, not for the words of a human being.
Its critics apart, the institution of the pledge shows that Ashrafiyya is fully wedded to the ideology of the Ahl-i Sunnatwa
Jama’at. Even in terms of organizational matters, it insists on having members of its own maslak. For the students therefore, Ashrafiyya is a pre-given ideological space; a social space with a well defined value system towards which all the different constituents of madrasa are supposed to conform. In this pre-constructed space, practices and symbols only make sense when they are attuned to the ideological parameters set by the madrasa. Respect, status and esteem are dependent on approximation to the supposed ideal of the madrasa: an ideal which has well defined signposts for what to do in order to be a ‘good Muslim’. It is an ideal which tells the students that it is not enough to be a follower of the Ahl-i Sunnatwa
Jama’at. It is equally important to struggle against the supposed heresies of the Deobandis, Ghair Muqallids, etc.
It is against this ideological backdrop that students of the madrasa take to their daily practice. This is not to say that students are passive recipients of madrasa ideology, but that their practice makes sense only in relation to the aforementioned objectives of the madrasa. In their routine, through teaching, learning and other allied processes, madrasa students actively reproduce this ideological construction of the madrasa of which they are themselves part. In the process of this ideological construction, students, who come from different social and cultural backgrounds, acquire a common identity of being members of the community of Ahl-i Sunnatwa
Jama’at, which in their understanding translates as being true Muslim. For such an identity to take root, the madrasa adopts three related strategies which I have called the dars, the non-dars and the performance.
The dars
Like most of Indian madrasas, Ashrafiyya also teaches what it calls the Dars-i Nizami, the curriculum developed by Mulla Nizam al-Din (d. 1748) during the eighteenth century. This curriculum was the culmination of a process of standardization and systematization of Islamic learning. Before that time, there was no specific time period to ‘complete’ the studies. Indeed, education was thought to be a continuous process throughout one’s life which was gained at the feet of a learned master or at varioussufi
hospices. Competence to teach came from mastery of certain books learnt from an alim who, after being satisfied with his disciple’s progress, would issue an ijaza which would connect the student with a spiritual chain (silsila), as well as give him the ‘license’ to teach that particular book.
In this way, an aspiring student had to move from master to master in order to gain knowledge of different books. Education was also transmitted through different scholarly networks (halqa) of which aspiring students became part. What Mulla Nizam al-Din did was systematize this process of Islamic learning and divide it into a number of years, the end of each year meant that a certain number of books have been mastered. This curriculum reflected the need of the state to arrive at uniformity, and thus the curriculum of Mulla Nizam al- Din met with widespread approval. The curriculum had a bias in favour of what was called the ‘rational sciences’ (ma’qulat) as opposed to the ‘transmitted sciences’ (manqulat). Thus, books on philosophy, logic (mantiq), medicine (tibb), etc. far outnumbered books which had a purely religious character. According to Francis Robinson, the emphasis on ma’qulat was because of the ‘superior training it offered to prospective lawyers, judges and administrators’, and its popularity was explicable because the skills that it offered ‘were in demand from the increasingly sophisticated and complex bureaucratic systems of eighteenth century India’ (Robinson 2002: 53).
The Dars-i Nizami that contemporary madrasas teach have far less in common with this original curriculum devised by Mulla Nizam al-Din. Rather it resembles more the modified Dars-i Nizami devised by the ulama at the Madrasa of Deoband. This modified Dars-i Nizami drastically reduced the content of ‘rational studies’. In place of this, a lot of emphasis was placed on studying hadith. Metcalf informs us that they included all the six classical hadith traditions in their curriculum (Metcalf 1982: 101). Whatever the reasons behind this transformation, the overall effect was that madrasa education came to be concerned solely with religious education. Indeed madrasas today are, in the popular imagination, solely associated with religious learning, a perception which is shared as well as defended by the ulama of different madrasas (Zaman 1999: 297). When contemporary madrasas say that they teach Dars-i Nizami, they refer to the reformed curriculum adopted by the Deoband Madrasa during the nineteenth century. It is not surprising therefore that the madrasas, Ashrafiyya as well as Ihya al-Ulum, teach what they call the Dars-i Nizami.
However, this does not mean that they teach identical syllabi. In the absence of a single governing body, madrasas have considerable freedom in choosing which books to teach in their respective institutions. Thus, for example, even though the study of hadith forms an important part of the curriculum of all madrasas, the commentaries selected for this purpose differ depending on the denominational identity of the madrasa.
Hadiths are taught in all madrasas with the help of these commentaries, being mediated in the process by the ideological predilection of their commentators. Moreover, verses in any compilation of hadith often lead to different interpretations since they sometimes contradict each other. Therefore, hadith classes in madrasas like Ashrafiyya and Ihya al- Ulum act as spaces for ideological transmission. These differences in interpretation act as one set of strategies to create the ‘other’, an other which, through its interpretation, is out to ‘confuse’ the Muslim community about the ‘true’ teachings of Islam. For the students of Madrasa Ashrafiyya, this ‘other’ is the Deobandis and for the students of Ihya al-Ulum, the Barelwis form the ‘other’ who are said to be corrupting the true spirit of Islam. To make it clearer, I cite below some of the important point of differences between the Barelwis and the Deobandis as it is taught in Madrasa Ashrafiyya, an observation that I made during my fieldwork.
In one of the hadith classes meant for students of Fazilat, the teacher was expounding on ‘Ilm-i Ghaib’, a belief that Prophet Muhammad had knowledge of the unseen. Translating a verse from Bukhari’s Kitab Badaul Khalkh, the teacher stated that according to a tradition, the Prophet knew who was going to heaven and who would go to hell, meaning that from the beginning to the end, he had knowledge of everything.
As will be made clearer below, this is one of the prominent beliefs of the Barelwis. The teacher, however, makes it clear that in opposition to this ‘truth’ about the quality of Prophet Muhammad, the Deobandis believe that he was given knowledge of only certain events. This was confirmed by observing the classes held at the Ihya al-Ulum Madrasa. There, teachers cited another tradition recorded in the same Bukhari Sharif (Kitab al- Iman) according to which ‘ilm-i qiyamat (knowledge of the Judgement Day) is one of the five things whose knowledge Allah alone possesses’. This tradition therefore meant that the knowledge of the Prophet was only partial. In the same vein, this Deobandi teacher sought to correct what he considered ‘erroneous beliefs’ of the Barelwis to his students.
Similarly, there are differences over the question of Hazir o Nazir. This is another belief of the Barelwis that the Prophet could be present on different occasions at the same time and that he could see the affairs of the world just like the palm of his hand. Students in Ashrafiyya learn how, during a certain battle, the Prophet announced the death of a companion long before he had actually died. Now this quality again is denied by the Deobandis. Students at the Ihya al- Ulum would learn no such tradition, but would be made aware of what the Barelwis believe and how it is false. In a similar fashion, the Deobandis would emphasize that a Muslim should not ask help from anyone other than Allah. Students at the Ihya al-Ulum would learn that the prophet asked his own daughter Fatima to seek help only from Allah.
Rubbishing the claim of the Deobandis, students at Madrasa Ashrafiyya would learn that it is permissible to ask help, when in crisis, not only from the Prophet, but also from pirs and other holy men.
Certainly hadith studies are not the only arena through which the abovementioned differences are created. Other subjects of study such as jurisprudence also serve to do the same. In the process of acquiring Islamic knowledge, an average madrasa student simultaneously becomes aware of different schools of thought within Islam. However, this does not lead to an ecumenical understanding of different interpretations. Becoming aware of other schools of thought is inextricably woven with the understanding that all other schools of thought, excepting one’s own are false. Thus for a student of Ashrafiyya, it is only the Barelwi/Ahl-i Sunnat interpretation which is the correct one. Others such as the Deobandis, Ahl-i Hadith, etc. are all erroneous and constitute a ‘danger’ to Muslims. In their self-understanding, madrasas belonging to any denomination see themselves as the ‘saviour’ of Muslims.
The non-dars
It would be too restrictive if we devoted our attention only to the formal curriculum and books taught therein. There are books which are not mentioned in the printed syllabus which Ashrafiyya provides, but which are extremely popular with the students. Students at Ashrafiyya informed me that it is considered ‘obligatory’ especially for the students of Fazilat that they be well acquainted with books written by their ‘own scholars’, i.e. scholars of the Ahl-i Sunnat wa Jama’at. For the students of Ashrafiyya, the most popular books were those written against the Deobandis and the Ahl-i Hadith. Indeed, such a practice is not unique to Ashrafiyya, it is found also in Ihya al-Ulum and, I understand, in bigger madrasas belonging to all maslaks. In Ashrafiyya, the most popular books for ‘self-reading’ are Zalzala and Da’wat-i Insaf. It must be mentioned that their popularity is not confined within Ashrafiyya. These books have a wide readership, particularly in Bihar and Uttar Pradesh. In Ashrafiyya, the fact that the author of both these books was Arshadul Qadiri, a graduate of their own madrasa, must have added to its popularity.
Arshadul Qadiri (1925–2002) is considered one of the most illustrious graduates of Madrasa Ashrafiyya. Religious education ran in the family: his father was himself a student of Madrasa Hanafia at Jaunpur, Eastern Uttar Pradesh.
Although Arshadul Qadiri hailed fromBalia,
he stayed with his sister in Azamgarh who was married to Amjad Ali. As mentioned earlier, Amjad Ali was one of the important figures in Ahl-i Sunnatwa
Jama’at. Thus both at his paternal house as well as later at his sister’s house, Arshadul Qadiriwas
brought up in a religious environment. It was from Azamgarh that his elder brother took him to Madrasa Ashrafiyya in Mubarakpur and entrusted his education to Abd al-Aziz.
Arshadul Qadiri even in his student days was known for oratory and writings.
And he became convinced of the ‘falsity’ of Deobandi teachings during his stay at Ashrafiyya. Once when a preacher of Tabligh-i Jama’at
came to Mubarakpur, he is said to have asked him a number of questions which the preacher could not answer. This incident made him popular among the Muslims, but more importantly he became much more convinced that the only purpose of Tabligh-i Jama’at, and by extension the Deobandis, was to lead them astray.
Moreover, he came to believe that the Tabligh-i Jama’at was out to ridicule ordinary Muslims, since they never tired of saying that whatever the Muslims did was bid‘a and that only they (the Tablighis) knew what was correct Islam.
Arshadul Qadiri was given the degree of Fazilat in 1944. Following in the footsteps of Abd al-Aziz, he went to Jamia Shams al-Ulum in Nagpur as a teacher for six years. In 1950 he came to Jamshedpur, in Bihar, and started teaching a small group of students, initially under the open sky. Through his relentless efforts this open-air school was to become Jamia Faiz al-Ulum. He secured land, built a madrasa and soon had a technical institute running under its aegis. For funds he appealed to local Muslims as well as lobbying the state and industrialists. In each of these endeavours he was successful. Apart from his own madrasa at Jamsehedpur, now in Jharakhand, he was instrumental in opening other madrasas in Calcutta, Bangalore and Assam. His organizational work also saw him travelling to Europe, where his efforts were vital in the formation of the World Islamic Mission in London in 1972 (Lewis 1994: 86), of which he was the Vice President. Arshadul Qadri was also the editor of Jam-i Nur, which was published from Kolkata. But more than his organizational works, he is known as a writer, who through his pen showed the Deobandis ‘their place’. In his works, he sought to rebut what he claimed was the falsity of Deobandi maslak. Zalzala, Dawat-i Insaf, Zer o Zabar, Tablighi Jama’at and Lala Zar are said to be his most famous works with a wide circulation. Of these it is the first two, Zalzala and Dawat-i Insaf, which are the favourites among the students of Madrasa Ashrafiyya, and towards which we now turn our attention.
Originally written in 1972, Zalzala became widely known as an important Barelwi response to the Deobandis. Its popularity was not limited to Indian Barelwi madrasas but also in the neighbouring Barelwi madrasas of Pakistan.
Indeed as the authorhimself
maintains in the preface (Sab-e Talif), he wrote the book with the Muslims not only of India but also of Pakistan in mind. He maintains that the book is a writ (Istigaza) which he has placed in front of the Muslims of the subcontinent in order that they can themselves judge what is right and differentiate it from wrong. It is therefore an appeal to consider the madhhab of Ahl-i Sunnatwa
Jama’at in the light of this book and evaluate it against the backdrop of the writings of Deobandi ulama (Qadiri 1972: 8, translation mine). The subject of the book concerns a very special characteristic of Prophet Muhammad, which is his knowledge of the unseen (Ilm-i Ghaib).
Ahmad Riza Khan, through his various works, maintained that the Prophet had knowledge of the unseen (Sanyal 1999). This special power was granted to him by Allah himself and once granted it stayed with him until his death. The Prophet not only knew what was going to happen in the future, but he also publicly predicted some of the events. Through various hadiths, Ahmad Riza Khan had laboriously maintained that this power of the Prophet was something which made him unique and an object of special veneration. Indeed, during his lifetime Ahmad Riza Khan maintained that not believing in the knowledge of the unseen which the Prophet possessed itself constitutes a grave shirk and he charged the Deobandi ulama with being knee-deep in this shirk.
Zalzala takes this criticism of the Deobandi denial of Ilm-i Ghaib to a higher level. The whole import of the book is not that the Deobandis do not believe in Ilm-i Ghaib, but to prove that they do, as well as acknowledging it themselves.
Rather the purpose of this book is to show that while the Deobandis themselves believed that their ulama possessed this power, they at the same denied that the Prophet himself possessed Ilm-i Ghaib. Zalzala therefore starts with numerous quotations from various ulama related to Deoband, citing the books as well as the page numbers in which they have expressively denied that the Prophet had any knowledge of the unseen. Among the more important ulama which are mentioned are Muhammad Ismail, Rashid Ahmad Gangohi, Ashraf Ali Thanwi and Manzoor Nomani. After naming these ulama, Arshadul Qadiri proceeds to quote them from their own writings in which they are said to have denied that the Prophet had knowledge of unseen. For example, Muhammad Ismail is said to have written in his popular work Taqwiyat al Iman that ‘whosoever says that Allah’s Prophet or any Imam or Saint (Buzurg) had knowledge of the unseen is the greatest liar. Knowledge of the unseen rests with Allah alone’ (ibid.:
10).
Similarly, a statement by Rashid Ahmad Gangohi, published in Fatawa Rashidiya reads, ‘and to believe that Prophet Muhammad had Ilm e Ghaib is a grave shirk’. Furthermore, Ashraf Ali Thanwi in his ‘Beheshti Zeawar’ is said to have written that, ‘to believe that a Buzurg or Pir has knowledge of all our activities is kufr’ (ibid.:
12).
After having noted down the denials of Ilm-i Ghaib of Prophet Muhammad by what Arshadul Qadiri calls the Deobandi ulama, he goes on to divide the book into six long chapters. Each chapter is about a single alim related to the Deobandi madhhab, and in each of these chapters, he contrasts the above statements with their own religious practice and sayings. Among those singled out for this special treatment are Qasim Nanotwi and Rashid Ahmad Gangohi, the founders of Dar al-Ulum Deoband, the famous Deobandi alim Ashraf Ali Thanwi, Husain Ahmad Madani and Imdadullah Thanwi respectively. The sixth chapter is not on any particular alim but a collection of various aspects of other Deobandi ulama, all geared to prove that they did not practice what they preached, meaning that while they denied the Ilm-i Ghaib of Prophet, they themselves believed that their own ulama had this power.
The second book, Dawat-i Insaf, published in 1993, is the last of the important polemical works by Arshadul Qadiri. While in his earliest works (see above), he asked the Deobandi ulama to clarify whether in the light of their own teachings, their own practices amounted to bid‘a or not, this work, written much later, takes the attack on the Deobandis onto a much sharper plane, having a distinct focus as to the differences of the Barelwis with the Deobandis. Twenty years after the publication of Zalzala, this book reflects of a kind of maturing of Ahl-i Sunnat grievance. No longer is there any attempt to show that the Barelwis were not the only ones to respect the karamat (miracles) of their elders, that the Deobandis also did the same, only that they never proclaimed it. ‘Da’wat-i Insaf’ does not talk to the Deobandis any more, rather it talks directly to the imagined Muslim community and appeals to them to use their rationalism to see which of the aqida are true. Despite the polemics, it must have been a bold attempt by a low-caste Muslim to hint that the Deobandis are incorrigible. Any attempt to bring them back to the fold and see reason is therefore futile.
Da’wat-i Insaf underlines three important point of difference between the Ahl-i Sunnat and Deobandis. The first of these three have to do with what it considers disrespect to the personhood of Prophet Muhammad by what it calls the ‘elders of Deoband’ (Qadiri 1993: 15). Arguing that the sword of Islam has not spared anyone who has shown disrespect to the Prophet, Ashadul Qadiri states that the famous Deobandi alim Ashraf Ali Thanwi, in his book Hifz al-Iman, wrote that the knowledge possessed by the Prophet could be likened to that possessed even by a maverick or the Shaitan (ibid.: 13). This comparison, according to Qadiri, amounts toa disrespect
to the Prophet of Islam. He argues that according to various verses of the Qur’an, no matter how much a Muslim follows the precepts of Islam, dishonouring the Prophet even in the slightest form amounts to his severing the ties with Islam and Muslims (ibid.: 15).
The second set of objections broadens the scope of complaint against the Deobandi ulama. It is no longer confined to the Prophet but brings within the ambit of discussion the question of the status of shrines as well as that of the special status of pirs and walis. As Metcalf and Sanyal have shown, one of the principal concerns of Deobandi ulama was to wean away Indian Muslims from what they considered to be bid‘a, or deviation from ‘true’ Islamic precepts.
In their understanding of Islam, visiting shrines or tombs of holy men and asking for boons compromised the fundamental Islamic principle of tawhid or the Oneness of Allah. They argued that turning to anyone other than Allah amounted to associating partners with Him, which was a grave sin. The Deobandi ulama reasoned that the popularity of shrines and ‘grave worship’ among Indian Muslims was due to Hindu influence on Islam. Deoband was, therefore, geared towards weeding out this ‘Hindu’ Islam in its search for a purified Muslim community in India.For the Ahl-i Sunnat, however, the practice of visiting shrines in no way constituted associating partners to Allah.
Rather, for them it provided an occasion to remember His glory. In addition, since Allah is so great, He cannot be reached directly by his followers and therefore something akin to a spiritual ladder is necessary (Sanyal 1999: 163–5). Again, Qadiri cites references from the works of Deobandi ulama to prove that they disrespect the walis of Allah.
Thus, it is stated that according to the Fatawa Rashidiyya, a person who says that the Companions of the Prophet are kafirs does not cease to be Muslim.
Similarly, Qadiri states that it is written in Sirat-i Mustaqim that if a person thinks of the Prophet during Namaz, he becomes a Mushrik (Qadiri 1993: 23).
The third set of objections relate to ‘those fatwas and writings of Deobandi ulama through which they have termed as bid‘a, the religious traditions of the Muslims’. Again Ashadul Qadiri point by point states that the ulama of Deoband have tried to show that most of the religious practices of Indian Muslims are non-Islamic or in needof
reform. Thus, he complains that a person who organizes the urs (death or birth anniversary) of a saint, or even participates in it, becomes less of a Muslim according to the writings of Deobandi ulama. Moreover, he is particularly concerned with their diatribe against even seemingly traditional ceremonies such as marriage, which in the eyes of Deobandis do not fulfil the religious decrees of Islam. Thus Qadiri informs us that Deobandi ulama even frown upon the sehera, which the bridegroom wears on his marriage, and term them as un-Islamic (ibid.: 26).
Taken together, Zalzala and Da’wat-i Insaf, paint the Deobandis as the internal enemy of Muslims. Students learn that the Deobandis are most dangerous since they appear very pious and committed to the Islamic precepts.
Ashrafiyya students internalize such notions and, in conversation with them, one learns that they regard the Deobandis as an enemy of Islam. To buttress their contention they cite a hadith according to which the Prophet had foretold that the most important danger to Islam would come from a community who would act as Muslims and be steadfast in their prayers, but in reality they will spread confusion and discord among the Muslims. Students at Ashrafiyya as well as Barelwis generally identify this community as the Deobandis. The cumulative effect of the strategies adopted in the dars as well as the non-dars is to produce an ‘other’. It is through the production of this ‘other’ that the self is imagined.
The self-identity of an average Ashrafiyya graduate is therefore necessarily defined in opposition to the other. The awareness of the other is intertwined with the awareness of the self. But in order to understand how this self/other awareness becomes embedded further, we need to turn to the third strategy, of performance, which is akin to ‘acting out’ these texts in ‘imagined real life situations’.
The performance
On every Thursday evening, Madrasa Ashrafiyya turns into something akin to an oratory and debating space. Students form into groups of twenty or more and occupy spaces within the madrasa to prepare and participate in what is popularly called ‘bazm’.
There is no fixed space for this performance; it could be any place ranging from their own living quarters even to the mosque or an open space within the madrasa boundaries. The groups generally comprise students with similar interests: for example those having interest in ‘na’t’ (elegy sung in the praise of Prophet) would often cluster together; those interested in speechmaking (taqrir) would gather separately. Given the large number of students, one would find more than one group practising na’t or taqrir and refining their skills. It is interesting that despite the overarching Sunni ideology of Madrasa Ashrafiyya, student groups are mostly based on regional affiliations: those from particular districts of Bihar would organize their separate bazms, and so on. Although the institution is listed as one of the objectives in the dastur of madrasa, its actual organizational detail is taken care of mostly by students themselves. The presence of teachers as supervisors is expected but not considered obligatory. Mostly the senior students of each of these groups have the responsibility of allocating topics on which students were supposed to speak. However, in some groups the choice of topics depended entirely on individual students. The senior students are present on these occasions when their respective groups are making their speeches, etc. Towards the end, the merits and demerits of individual presentations are discussed and commented upon by the senior students, this being the method for all groups.
These practices are important for the students in a number of ways. First of all, apart from the institutional bonding, these strategies involve a cementing of bond based on regional or age affiliation. Often madrasa graduates go to different places depending on the opportunity they get. The bonds that they share through such practices, and belonging to the same group, goes a long way in maintaining and sustaining their network of relationships at a later stage. Second, and perhaps more importantly for the students involved in these performances, it is one of the most important tools to gain self-confidence, which is essential for public speaking, a role that many of them take up later. Coming mostly from non- or semi-literate families, the institution of bazm offers them that space to build self-confidence, and to imagine their future role as potential public figures. Thus, for the large majority of students who share this practice, it gives them a sense of empowerment.
Most of what happens during the performance of bazm revolves around the personality of, as well as a sense of perceived disrespect towards, Prophet Muhammad. This is perhaps understandable since the Barelwi maslak crystallized, so to speak, around the writings of Ahmad Riza Khan, who wrote extensively against the Deobandis and Ahl-i Hadith, arguing most of the time that they did not accord the Prophet as much respect as he deserved (Sanyal 1999: 151–6). In the Barelwi prophetology, Muhammad is considered something much more than a mere human, endowed with qualities such as the knowledge of the unseen, the ability to be present anywhere at any time, etc. With such an understanding of Prophet-hood, even an attempt to consider him as any other mortal would be hard to tolerate. And it is these very attempts, I was told, which made the Barelwis think that Deobandis and others were outside the pale of Islam. There are certain fixed accusations, which I came across, against other denominations. First and foremost among themwas
that certain ulama of the Deobandi school, like Ashraf Ali Thanwi, in his book Hifz al-Iman, has compared the Prophet’s knowledge to that of an animal or a mad man. Going further back they told me that an intellectual ancestor of Deobandis, Muhammad Ismail Dehlavi, in his Taqwiyat al-Iman, has also written sentences which are derogatory to the person of the Prophet. They considered the Deobandis (whom they also called the Wahhabis) as the followers of Ibn Abd al-Wahhab (also called Najdi) whose very name they detested and charged him with the crime of desecrating the grave of Prophet Muhammad in Medina.
In a sense therefore, their own history is defined in terms of defending the dignity of Prophet Muhammad from what they consider the sacrilegious affronts of others. Related to this is their firm belief that they are indeed the chosen ones. I was told that Prophet Muhammad had predicted that his community (qaum) would be divided into seventy-three groups, and only one among them would be true followers of the Sunna and thus be true Muslims who would go to heaven. The other seventy-two groups would be banished into hell fire. The students of this madrasa firmly believe in this hadith as well as in the fact that they and their maslak are indeed the ones who are on the right path as ordained by Prophet Muhammad.
It is perhaps this understanding of being the chosen one that impels an average student of this madrasa to participate in the bazm with much enthusiasm and religious fervour. The debates (taqrir) mentioned above are themselves a constant reminder of the fact that there exists in the mind of the speaker an imaginary but at the same time real opponent in the form of Deobandis and Ahli Hadith who are attacking Islam. Such attacks on Islam mostly seem to be through the person of Prophet Muhammad. In one of the taqrirs, the speaker claims that Najdis/Wahhabis dare to say that Prophet Muhammad is like them, that he was just an ordinary mortal who was given Prophet-hood (nubuwwat) by the grace of Allah. The speaker then goes on to explicate his own understanding of Prophet, linking him with the concept of Nur (light), which according to him existed long before the world had been created. In his schema, considering the prophet like any other mortal was a sin, since he was made of light rather than of mere clay as ordinary mortals are. In his argument the speaker cites hadith to corroborate his claim that the Prophet did not cast a shadow and this was only possible if he was made of light. As to why the Deobandis are keen to malign the image of the Prophet, the speaker argues that this is nothing new, such things have been happening throughout Islamic history. This time he links the Deobandis/Wahhabis with the munafiqin and narrates an unbroken history of conspirators against Islam. Indeed he cautions his fellow listeners that the most dangerous of these conspirators are to be found within the community since they are like ‘termites’ which make things hollow from within. In what appears to be the logic of pre-destination, the speaker claims that all this was foretold by the Prophet himself. But as Sunnis, it was incumbent upon all of them to fight against the Wahhabis. Another speaker, at another venue, is giving a similar taqrir, and, although the style is different, the subject is the same. Again it is concerned with how to understand the Prophet of Islam. For this speaker, the importance of the Prophet can be gauged from the fact that whatever hedid,
became Islam. Arguing that namaz is the most important pillar of Islam after iman, he maintained that nowhere in the Qur’an is it written how to offer the prayer. This important article of faith is done in the way the Prophet himself did.
So, his argument goes on, whatever the Prophet did, became Islam.
The practice of na’t similarly brings out the centrality of the Prophet for the Barelwis, although much more poetically. Similar to the taqrir sessions, here also the Prophet is understood as someone who is extraordinary, more than a mere human being, as alleged by the Deobandis. Moreover, the na’ts place Prophet Muhammad as the saviour for the followers of the right path. In the religious imagination of the Barelwis, as it comes out through variousna’ts
, they understand themselves as one who is mired in numerous problems from which only the Prophet can save them. The na’ts would frequently talk about their powerlessness and appeal to the Prophet to help them. This is an imagination perhaps something akin to a self-victimology of the Barelwis. While in the taqrir sessions, wherein the Prophet became constituted as the victim of vicious attacks by the Deobandis, etc., in the na’t this ‘victimhood’ is transferred to one’s own self, thus producing some kind of extended victimization via the person of Prophet Muhammad.
The bazm goes on until late in the night of Thursday. Towards the end of it, the students are told the merits and demerits of their na’ts or taqrirs, mostly by senior students who act as guides for their juniors. This performance, however, is not of Ashrafiyya alone. Indeed in almost all the madrasas of the area, it is part of the wider pedagogy. The techniques of doing so, however, might differ.
Thus, in Madrasa Ain al-Ulum,
in Gaya, Bihar, the institution of bazm is much more theatrical. This is a small Barelwi madrasa compared to the Ashrafiyya.
The students here are divided into twogroups,
one group comprises Barelwis and the other group Deobandis. There is then question and counter-question about the understanding of Islam. Always the Barelwi group will win since both the questions as well as the answers are written by the Barelwi teachers of the madrasa! A teacher of the madrasa told me that since the students of this madrasa are of small age groups, they find it much more interesting to get involved in theatrical performances rather than formal taqrirs.
The presence of these institutions, in almost all madrasas belonging to different maslaks, makes it central to the imagination of madrasa education in India.
Since madrasas in India are invariably linked to the ideology of one maslak or the other, these practices become important for teaching and sharpening the ideological divide, which cannot be done just through teaching. Performance therefore becomes necessary for the ‘stylized repetition of acts’,
through which identity is more thoroughly internalized by the students. The expression of this internalized ideology is frequently visible in the various wall magazines, which the students of this madrasa bring out. In piece after piece, one finds similar vitriol against the Deobandis/Wahhabis, the need to guard the Muslims from them and be vigilant against the canard spread by the opposite camps.
Strategies discussed above and the practices associated with it go a long way to link an individual student with all those prominent ulama of the Barelwi maslak, who are said to have been the defenders of the Muslim faith against the onslaught of Deobandis and other maslaks. The identity which is created in such a setting is at once oppositional, depending on the negation of the other, feeding on a sense of being wronged, and committed to spreading the ‘true Islam’ of their maslak.
Concluding remark
Rather than assuming a given religious identity of Indian Muslims, this chapter has focused on the very process of this identity formation. It is via an understanding of the process that the chapter has argued that there exists no singular identity of Indian Muslims. In contrast to discourses on Indian Muslim identity that invariably reproduce a monolithic religious identity, I have tried to show that the interpretation of texts lead to the development of a pluralistic identity even within the religious domain. In a sense therefore, the ‘religious’ is in itself not a monolith but subject to multiple understanding. Differences over interpretation lead to textual plurality, which are instituted through certain strategies discussed in the chapter. It follows from the chapter that the Hindu Right assertion about madrasas being antithetical to other communities is simply erroneous. Far from talking about Hindus or Christians, madrasas are solely concerned with what is the correct interpretation of Islam. In the process, they create an ‘other’ within rather than outside the community. While there have been studies on how the Hindu Right constructs the Muslims as the ‘other’ (cf. Sundar 2004), this chapter has shown that such processes are intrinsic to the Muslims also. Appreciating this internal contestation within Muslims might lead us to different results.
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Author: Jamal Malik
