Lessons in Hindutva on Mysore palace walls

There are no less than eight temples in the palace grounds, of which the Sri Prasanna Krishnaswami temple was built by this king’s grandfather because he felt that there was no temple dedicated to the Lord Krishna to whose ivamsa, the Yadu vamsa, the Wodeyar dynasty traces its decent.

The fabulous golden throne, which according to one version once belonged to the Pandavas, has a benediction that refers to the blessings of the Goddess Chamundeshwari on the monarch. And lining one part of the 155-ft wall of the awesome Diwan-e-Aam is a series of eight exquisite life-size paintings depicting the eight avatars of the Goddess.

But wait a minute. What is this? Under each of the 26 wall frescos all along the Peacock Pavilion that depict the splendour of the Dasara and the royal birthday processions are the names of the key figures of the maharajah’s durbar. Meticulously and painstakingly written in black ink, the yellowing originals are preserved and framed in glass.

What is intriguing is that amidst the Urs and the Raos, the Swamys and the Chettys, amidst the Ayyas, the Annas and the Appas — expected in the court of a South Indian king — there are liberal sprinklings of Abduls, Peer Sahibs and Baigs, even a Parsi called R.N. Boyce.

Amidst the Arthashastra Visharada, Sangeeta Sastraratna, Rajasenabhushana and Rajasevadhurina, grand titles of honour bestowed by the Maharajah on the most illustrious members of his court, were Siddiq-ul-Mulk, Durbar Bakshi, Arzbeg and Huzur Bakshi.

So what was a Hindu King — and that too one whose dynasty had been so rudely interrupted by a Muslim (none other than Haider Ali and his son, Tipu Sultan) — doing with so many signs of what our present day defenders of Hindu faith call ‘‘pseudo-secularism’’ in his court?

Why was one of the most important posts in his durbar called ‘‘Huzur Secretary’’ and why was the administration of the affairs of the royal ladies called the Zenana Samukha, when the palace library was called the Saraswati Bhandar, the elephants and horses were housed in the Ashwashala and Gajashalas and the armoury kept in the Ayudhshala?

It is a well-known fact, that of all the king’s 12 Diwans, the one who shared the closest rapport with him was Mirza Ismail, on whom he conferred the title of Amin-ul-Mulk. But one Muslim does not a secular make and do we not have our own token not one, but two — Sikander Bakht and Mukhtar Naqvi Abbas — in the BJP?

Documentation on Krishnaraja Wodeyar and his court revealed enough evidence to indicate that he was perhaps one of the most enlightened and progressive monarchs of his time. In the archives of the records of the Palace administration, was this letter: ‘‘It has been the great good fortune of Your Highness’ petitioner not only to have been cherished and protected in this royal court, but to have been bestowed the high favour of a title at the hands of your Gracious Highness.’’ The title was ‘‘Aftab-e-Sitar’’ bestowed by the maharajah on the writer of the letter, one Barkatullah Khan — palace musician from 1919 till his death in 1930 and one of India’s great sitar players, one time guru to Kesarbai Kerkar and to the father of Ustad Mushtaq Ali Khan, the greatest exponent of the Seniya sitar style in recent times. (Many years later, it was this same title that was conferred on Ustad Vilayat Khan by late president Fakhruddin Ali Ahmed.)

Many illustrious members of the Agra Gharana including Nattan Khan and Ustad Vilayat Hussain Khan were guests of the Maharajah in Mysore. The legendary Abdul Karim Khan whose shisyas include Sawai Gandharva, Roshanra Begum and Hirabai Barodekar (it is said that though a devout Muslim, the Ustad would write ‘‘Om tatsat samavedaya namaha’’ on his musical works and was perhaps the first North Indian musician to study Carnatic ragas and incorporate several of them into Hindustani music); Gauhar Jan, one of the greatest exponents of the thumri, the khayal and the ghazal, who was the toast of Calcutta where the saying went that ‘‘Calcutta without Gauhar is like a bride without her Shauhar (Husband).’’

All in the court of a king with a long tradition of patronage to Carnatic music where famed Carnatic musicians like Mysore Vasudevachar, Muttiah Bhaghavatar, Veene Sheshanna, T. Chowdiah and Bidaram Krishnappa flourished as court musicians.

In today’s terms, we would say this was just the gracious patronage of a Hindu king of Muslim musicians. But to the Maharaja, it was simply the appreciation and nurturing of another beautiful avatar of India’s great musical tradition. Just as for the musicians, it was an opportunity to perform before another great connoisseur and patron of their music.

And so it was many, many years ago one cool, soft, velvety Navratri night in Mysore, sitting in the magnificent Diwan-e-Aam that Faiyyaz Khan performed at Krishnaraja Wodeyar’s famed Dussera celebrations. It was a jugalbandhi between him and Ustad Hafiz Khan, the palace musician at the time. So enchanted was the Maharajah by the Ustad’s performance, that he bestowed on him the title of Aftab-e-Mausiqui, by which title the Ustad was thereafter known.

And so in Krishnaraja Wodeyar’s beautiful garden bloomed many flowers, and he gave each its own special name. An Aftab-e-mausiqui blossomed next to a Sangeetha Kalanidhi, an Aftab-e-Sitar spread its fragrance next to a Gayaka Shikhamani. While one filled the air with the beautiful, plaintive notes of ‘‘Babul Mora’’ in Raag Bhairavi, another praised Goddess Chamundeshwari with 108 exquisite kirtis.

On March 31 this year, during the frenzy of the post-Godhra riots, the tomb of Ustad Faiyaz Khan was desecrated and wreathed with burning tyres. But what was defiled was more just the memory of one of India’s greatest musicians, who under the pseudonym ‘‘Prempiya’’, composed songs called cheej, many of which are now inseparable from the celebration of Hindu festivals like Holi.

Nor was it, as many would say, the despoiling of the great tradition of secularism in this country. To me, it was desecration of a great tradition of Hinduism lived out so beautifully by a Hindu king who, even while glorying in the vast, infinite landscape of his Hindutva, had room enough for one and all.

Ratna Rajaiah is a former TV director and freelance journalist