Muslim Women Reform and Princely Patronage: Nawab Sultan Jahan Begam of Bhopal (Royal Asiatic Society Books)

MUSLIM WOMEN, REFORM AND PRINCELY PATRONAGE

This engaging study examines Muslim women’s participation in socioreligious reform movements in India in the early twentieth century. The state of Bhopal, a Muslim principality in central India, was ruled by a succession of female rulers throughout the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. The last of these Nawab Begams, Sultan Jahan (1858–1930, r. 1901–1926), emerges as the main figure in this history on the basis that she not only ruled her state effectively from behind the veil, but also provided essential leadership and patronage to a burgeoning network of Indian women reformers. Her location at the conjuncture of several historical worlds – princely, colonial, Muslim – means that her political life and thinking serves as a starting point for examining a broader development occurring among Muslim women, whether poor, privileged, or princely, both within India and throughout the Islamic world. Siobhan Lambert-Hurley highlights the importance early Muslim female activists placed in balancing continuity and innovation. Operating within an Islamic framework, these women built on customary norms and reformist patterns set by their male predecessors and contemporaries in order to introduce incremental change in terms of female education, veiling, marriage and motherhood, and women’s political rights. In elucidating this theme, special significance is attached to changing attitudes to class, gender, and communal identities. This book makes an important contribution to modern South Asian and Islamic history in that it analyses the first generation of Indian Muslim women to contribute to a reformist discourse, particularly at the regional level, while complicating perceptions of princely India as an anachronistic backwater. Siobhan Lambert-Hurley is Senior Lecturer in Modern History at Nottingham Trent University. Her research focuses on women, gender and Islam in South Asia with a particular emphasis on education, social and political organizations, the culture of travel, missionaries, and personal narratives. Her other publications include Rhetoric and Reality: Gender and the Colonial Experience in South Asia (co-edited with Avril A. Powell) (2006).

ROYAL ASIATIC SOCIETY BOOKS The Royal Asiatic Society was founded in 1823 ‘for the investigation of subjects connected with, and for the encouragement of science, literature and the arts in relation to, Asia’. Informed by these goals, the policy of the Society’s Editorial Board is to make available in appropriate formats the results of original research in the humanities and social sciences having to do with Asia, defined in the broadest geographical and cultural sense and up to the present day. THE MAN IN THE PANTHER’S SKIN Shota Rustaveli Translated from the Georgian by M. S. Wardrop New Foreword by Donald Rayfield WOMEN, RELIGION AND CULTURE IN IRAN Edited by Sarah Ansari and Vanessa Martin SOCIETY, POLITICS AND ECONOMICS IN MAZANDARAN, IRAN 1848–1914 Mohammad Ali Kazembeyki THE ZEN ARTS Rupert Cox STUDIES IN TURKIC AND MONGOLIC LINGUISTICS Gerard Clauson New Introduction by C. Edmund Bosworth THE HISTORY OF THE MOHAMMEDAN DYNASTIES IN SPAIN Ahmed ibn Mohammed al-Makkari Translated from the Arabic by Pascual de Gayangos New Introduction by Michael Brett THE COURTS OF PRE-COLONIAL SOUTH INDIA Jennifer Howes PERSIAN LITERATURE: A BIO-BIBLIOGRAPHICAL SURVEY Volume V: Poetry of the pre-Mongol period François de Blois

MUSLIMS IN INDIA SINCE 1947 Islamic perspectives on inter-faith relations Yoginder Sikand THE ORIGINS OF HIMALAYAN STUDIES Brian Houghton Hodgson in Nepal and Darjeeling 1820–1858 Edited by David M. Waterhouse GRIEVANCE ADMINISTRATION (ȘIKAYET) IN AN OTTOMAN PROVINCE The Kaymakam of Rumelia’s ‘Record Book of Complaints’ of 1781–1783 Michael Ursinus THE CHEITHAROL KUMPAPA: THE COURT CHRONICLE OF THE KINGS OF MANIPUR Original text, translation and notes Vol. 1. 33–1763 CE Saroj Nalini Arambam Parratt ANGLO-IRANIAN RELATIONS SINCE 1800 Edited by Vanessa Martin THE BRITISH OCCUPATION OF INDONESIA 1945–1946 Britain, the Netherlands and the Indonesian revolution Richard McMillan THE POLITICS OF SELF-EXPRESSION The Urdu middle-class milieu in mid-twentieth century India and Pakistan Markus Daechsel THE THEORY OF CITRASUTRAS IN INDIAN PAINTING A critical re-evaluation of their uses and interpretations Isabella Nardi TRIBAL POLITICS IN IRAN Rural conflict and the new state, 1921–1941 Stephanie Cronin MUSLIM WOMEN, REFORM AND PRINCELY PATRONAGE Nawab Sultan Jahan Begam of Bhopal Siobhan Lambert-Hurley

MUSLIM WOMEN, REFORM AND PRINCELY PATRONAGE Nawab Sultan Jahan Begam of Bhopal

Siobhan Lambert-Hurley

First published 2007 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN Simultaneously published in the USA and Canada by Routledge 270 Madison Ave, New York, NY 10016 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business This edition published in the Taylor & Francis e-Library, 2006.

“To purchase your own copy of this or any of Taylor & Francis or Routledge’s collection of thousands of eBooks please go to www.eBookstore.tandf.co.uk.”

© 2007 Siobhan Lambert-Hurley All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilized in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data Lambert-Hurley, Siobhan. Muslim women, reform and princely patronage: Nawab Sultan Jahan Begam of Bhopal / Siobhan Lambert-Hurley. p. cm. – (Royal Asiatic Society books) Includes bibliographical references and index. 1. Muslim women–India–History. 2. Women in Islam–India –History. 3. Women social reformers–India–History. 4. Sultan Jahan Begam, Nawab of Bhopal, 1858–1930. I. Title. II. Series. HQ1742.L37 2006 305.48'69709543–dc22

2006016000

ISBN 0-203-96813-1 Master e-book ISBN

ISBN10: 0–415–40192–5 (hbk) ISBN10: 0–203–96813–1 (ebk) ISBN13: 978–0–415–40192–0 (hbk) ISBN13: 978–0–203–96813–0 (ebk)

CONTENTS

Preface and acknowledgements List of abbreviations Frontispiece: Map of Bhopal Frontispiece: Map of princely states and Muslim centres Introduction

ix xiii xiv xv 1

1

Models and inheritances

13

2

State and society

44

3

Scholars and schools

73

4

Veiling and seclusion

100

5

Medicine and motherhood

124

6

Rights and duties

144

7

Conclusions

176

Appendix: Genealogy of the Ruling Family of Bhopal Glossary Notes Bibliography Index

182 184 188 226 246

vii

PREFACE AND ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

As I neared the end of working on this project, I came across a short opinion piece in the “face to faith” section of my Saturday newspaper that urged readers to “start taking religion much more seriously.” At a point in history in which faith – whether Islam or Christianity, Hinduism or Judaism – is so often being used to justify “carnage and horror,” the author was saying that “dismissing belief wholesale as ludicrous fantasy,” as was so often the case among “secularists,” was simply not a very helpful reaction. I am only too aware of the reticence in Europe’s post-industrial secular societies to engage with religion in light of the history that I teach and research. When I ask students in my second-year module on “Reform and Revival in the Islamic World” how they are getting on with the material in the course of the term, I often get the reply: “I like it, but, um, well, it’s very religious.” I’m never quite sure exactly what else they expected in a module about socio-religious reform movements in the Islamic world. But, then again, I guess I do: suicide bombers, fanatical clerics, veiled women and perhaps even a little romance in the form of a sensuous prince and his luxurious court à la Arabian Nights. I explain to them from the outset that the underlying aim of the module is to deconstruct some of these stereotypes, to start understanding the diverse plurality of the Islamic world, rather than dismissing it as monolithic and unchanging. The author of the newspaper article, too, made the point that “Islamic theology and thinking” was something “complex” and “differentiated” with “as rich and diverse a history as its Christian equivalent.” If we begin to explore this, he argued, we may begin to recognize in “belief” a “capacity for transformation” that is “as much benign as malevolent.”1 In focusing on Muslim women’s participation in socio-religious reform movements in India in the early twentieth century, this study intends to contribute to that complicating process when it comes to Islam – even as the central figure, Nawab Sultan Begam of Bhopal, seems to fulfil some of the stereotypes in being a veiled princess. In getting to this point, I have received the help of many people and institutions that I am so pleased to have the opportunity to recognize here. First and foremost is my former doctoral supervisor and now colleague and ix

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friend, Avril Powell, who has offered more kindness, encouragement and inspiration over the past 12 years than I ever could have duly expected when I first wrote to her from Vancouver in the winter of 1993. To the examiners of my doctoral thesis, Professors Francis Robinson and Judith Brown, I also owe a huge debt of gratitude for making my viva such an intellectual pleasure and raising so many pertinent issues that have now found their way into this later work. For reading drafts, offering sage suggestions and providing unflagging support, both intellectual and otherwise, over the years, I also thank David Arnold, Peter Robb, Barbara Metcalf, Gail Minault, Barbara Ramusack, Anindita Ghosh, Anshu Malhotra, my former colleagues at the University of Guelph and my current colleagues at Nottingham Trent University – especially Ian Inkster, Ashlee Cunsolo, Becky Bendick, Patrick Mark and Andy Pickard. My appreciation goes, too, to my students at SOAS, Guelph and Trent for often listening to my ideas in their first form and constantly pushing me to justify them. For their patient assistance with Urdu translation, I am grateful to Khalid Iqbal and Nayala Rehmat. Dorothea Schaefter and Tom Bates at Routledge and Anna Lethbridge at the Royal Asiatic Society have guided me expertly through the publication process. As this book is based largely on my doctoral research, I would like to acknowledge the assistance of the Association of Commonwealth Universities and the Government of British Columbia, both of which provided essential funding for my graduate studies in Britain and fieldwork in India and Pakistan. The Faculty of Humanities at Nottingham Trent University also imparted a grant for subsequent fieldwork in India. I also express my sincere gratitude to the staff at all of the libraries in which I completed research, including the Oriental and India Office Collections of the British Library in London, Friends’ House Library in London, the Indian Institute Library in Oxford, the University Library in Cambridge, the National Archives of India in New Delhi, the All India Women’s Conference Library in New Delhi, the Maulana Azad Library at Aligarh Muslim University and the National Archives of India in Bhopal. At the latter institution, extensive help was provided by former archivist-in-charge, Zakir Husain, current director, Dr M.A. Haque, and archivist, Sh. D.R. Pratihar, as well as assistant archivist, V.K. Juneja, and former assistant chemist, N.D. Manake, who, along with their families, eased the difficulties of working in an Indian provincial archive with their professional help and generous hospitality. Farhat Hasan and his students in Aligarh were also an invaluable aid, as was Leena Mitford at the OIOC. In the course of writing this book, I presented earlier versions of a number of chapters at research seminars and conferences at Nottingham Trent University, the University of Edinburgh, Lund University and the University of Southampton. I express my thanks here to the organizers, my fellow participants and those in attendance for their many perceptive comments on those occasions. Some chapters or, more accurately, sections of chapters have x

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also been published elsewhere, though they have been adapted and revised for inclusion here. My earlier related publications include: “Out of India: The Journeys of the Begam of Bhopal, 1901–30,” Women’s Studies’ International Forum, 21: 3, June 1998: 263–76, reprinted in Tony Ballantyne and Antoinette Burton (eds), Bodies in Contact: Rethinking Colonial Encounters in World History, Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2005: 293–309; “Princes, Paramountcy and the Politics of Muslim Identity: The Begam of Bhopal on the Indian National Stage, 1901–26,” South Asia: Journal of South Asian Studies, 26: 2, 2003: 169–95; “Fostering Sisterhood: Muslim Women and the All-India Ladies’ Association,” Journal of Women’s History, 16: 2, summer 2004: 40–65; and “Subtle Subversions and Presumptuous Interventions: Reforming Women’s Health in Bhopal State in the Early Twentieth Century” in Anindita Ghosh (ed.), Invisible Resistance: Women and Everyday Resistance in Colonial India, Delhi: Permanent Black, forthcoming. In the oldest tradition of princely patronage, the former ruling family of Bhopal provided me with untold help in completing my research along with personal recollections, warm hospitality and a glimpse of Bhopali court culture as it used to exist. Deserving of special mention for their inspiration and memories are two of the family matriarchs, Abida Sultaan in Karachi and Rabia Sultan in Bhopal, now both sadly deceased, as well as my dear friend, Shaharyar Mian, and his family in London and Pakistan, and Nasir Mirza, Faiza Sultan, Kaisar Zaman and their families in Bhopal, all of whom welcomed me and my husband as adopted members of their extended family. To my other Indian family, the Bhattacharjees, I am also grateful for always providing me with a home in Delhi or Calcutta, as I am to my in-laws, Min and Colin, for doing the same in Britain. My own parents and younger sister, Adrienne, have had a greater impact on this study than can ever really be measured, even as I moved halfway around the world to make it happen. I cannot even imagine how many times they have had to justify my decision, as a small-town girl from western Canada, to study Muslim women in India, yet they have never disputed it themselves. They are, however, always willing to question my perspectives and politics when we do get around a dinner table – wherever that may be – with the effect that my analytical approach in this study owes much to those lively discussions that often go well into the night. Finally, I want to thank my husband, Josh, for so many things, not least his unbounded enthusiasm, his fresh insight and his companionship as we have travelled around the world in pursuit of my academic interests. We met in a moment of serendipity at around the same time that I began studying the Begam of Bhopal and I am sure that, on many occasions, he has felt like she was the recipient of more of my attention than he was. But, of course, he must know that he always comes first. Siobhan Lambert-Hurley Nottingham xi

ABBREVIATIONS

AGG AIWC AS B BPA BSR CI CIA CID CR CS DPS F&P FSC GBE GCIE GCSI GOI HS IOL IOR MEC NAI(B) NAI(ND) NCWI OIOC PA PD PS PSV RR UP WIA

Agent to the Governor-General in Central India All-India Women’s Conference Agency Surgeon Bundle Number Bhopal Political Agency Bhopal State Records of the Political Department, Bhopal State Commander of India Central India Agency Criminal Investigation Department Crown Representative Records Chief Secretary Deputy Political Secretary Foreign and Political Department Friends’ Service Council Granddame of the British Empire Grand Commander of the Indian Empire Knight Grand Commander of the Star of India Government of India Honorary Secretary India Office Library India Office Records Muhammadan Educational Conference National Archives of India, Bhopal National Archives of India, New Delhi National Council of Women in India Oriental and India Office Collections, British Library Political Agent in Bhopal Political Department Political Secretary Private Secretary to the Viceroy Residency Records United Provinces Women’s Indian Association xiii

NASRULLAHGUNJ

ICHHAWAR

I N D O R E

ASHTA T TA

PHANDA

DORAHA

W

BERASIA

CHOWKIGARH

SEHORE

KHAND HANDWA A

NARSINGARH

RAJGARH

IVE R

BAT IR PAR

G

L

GINNOR

BE

RI

I

TW A RAISEN

BHELSA

R ITARSA T TARSA

O

KURWAI

BARI

CHIKLODE

VE HOSHANGABAD

BARKHERA RKHE

OBAIDULLA GA ANJ

BHOPAL P PAL

SIT TAMA TAMAH AH

SANCHI

A

PIKLON

P. RY P. G.I.P

RIV BAD A AR

R

BINA

ER

UDAIPURA

BEGUMGANJ

R

U

O

R

Frontispiece: Map of Bhopal (copyright © Oxford University Press 2004; reprinted by permission from Abida Sultaan, Memoirs of a Rebel Princess).

10 MILES

FORT

TEHSIL BOUNDARY

I

METALLED T TALLED ROAD INCOMPLETE

METALLED T TALLED ROAD

RAILWA L AY LWA AY

REFERENCES

L A

S

W

A

G

O

N

B H O PA L

G

INDIA

Lahore Jalalabad

Bahawalpur w walpur

Panipat

P Pataudi

Delhi Aligarh

Ajmer

T Tonk Baroda

Saharanpur anpur Deoband

Rampur Bareilly Farukhabad Lucknow Kanpur Allahabad

Gwalior w walior K wai Kurw wai

J ra Jaor ra

Bhopal

Calcutta

Indore

J Junagadh Bombay Bomba y

J Janjir ra ra

Hyderabad

Mysore

Madras

400 MILES

Frontispiece: Map of the princely states and Muslim centres of India mentioned in the text in the early twentieth century.

INTRODUCTION

Undoubtedly the barometer of social change in the Moslem world is the veil. Where the veil persists without variation, the life of the Moslem woman is like the blank walled streets of Bhopal, India, which afford no outlook from within and no contact from without. But the Bhopal streets within the last few years have been pierced by a few small windows, very high up to be sure, but breaking the dead monotony, and one can imagine some purdah woman unseen looking out on the street below. The Moslem woman’s veil, even in the most conservative places, betrays some suggestion of movement; in some places it is slowly being lifted and elsewhere it has even entirely disappeared.1 Ruth Frances Woodsmall, Moslem Women Enter a New World (1936)

From the earliest contact with the Muslim world, outsiders have expressed their intense fascination with the institution of the veil by writing generalized descriptions of women “behind the purdah” or “within the harem.” Many of these depictions, ranging from Niccolao Manucci’s account of the Mughal court in the seventeenth century2 to Jean P. Sasson’s recent best-seller on Saudi Arabia, Princess,3 have focussed on the more titillating aspects of life in seclusion, characterizing the zenana as a cushioned world of pleasure and luxury. Hidden from view, the woman behind the hijab is mysterious, alluring, seductive. Such a portrayal has similarly fuelled the imaginations of generations of Urdu poets who lament their separation from their cruel beloved behind the curtain.4 Other chroniclers have, in contrast, emphasized the physical circumstances in which veiled Muslim women live, offering vivid, if not unpleasant, descriptions of the cramped and unhealthy conditions of the chardivari. In this picture, the purdahnashin is silenced, overworked and powerless. Previously popular with Christian missionaries,5 this portrayal has once again become prevalent in the contemporary media as part of the demonization of the Islamic world.6 1

IN T RO D U C T IO N

The terms parda (curtain), haram (women’s apartments), hija¯b (veil, curtain), zana¯na (women’s quarters), cha¯rdiva¯rı¯ (four walls [of the house]) and parda-nishı¯n (a veiled woman), used above in their common English forms, all relate to the practice of secluding women in order to guarantee a high standard of female modesty in society. This complex social system is observed throughout the Muslim world, as well as in certain other religious communities, though not in a homogenous way. For different Muslim women, being in purdah or wearing the hijab can mean strict seclusion within the female quarters of a walled residence, donning a burqa or large scarf when leaving the house or simply behaving modestly before members of the opposite sex. These varying manifestations of the veil have been analysed in depth in fairly recent years by both anthropologists and historians who have concluded that purdah observance is closely related to other social factors in a given society.7 While efforts have been made to better understand the custom of purdah, little attempt has been made to actually get beyond it. The tendency to talk only about the veil in the context of Muslim women is all too strong, especially in more popular forms of writing. This focus has meant that Muslim women are perceived as being limited to a static domestic role, while issues of their socio-economic status, political identity or educational development have been largely ignored. Yet the woman behind the veil need not be such a passive figure. Since the time of the Prophet Muhammad, there has been a myriad of strong and independent Muslim women, veiled and unveiled, who have broken down projected dichotomies between public and private, distinguishing themselves as scholars, rulers, architects, healers and even warriors.8 It is essential that their forgotten stories be told – that the boundary seemingly created by the veil be dissolved to recover the Muslim female subject – if widespread misconceptions about women in Islam, so common in the current political climate in Europe and North America, are to be countered. Perhaps it will also enable Muslim women themselves to become aware of a past on which they can draw for the future. This study aims to take a step in this direction by examining Muslim women’s participation in socio-religious reform movements in India in the early twentieth century. Emphasis will be placed on the development of thought and the style of activities, identifying three main phases that correspond roughly to the century’s first three decades: the first was a period when elite Muslim women began to contribute to the social reform debate, usually at the encouragement of men, through their involvement with the print media. These early female authors were able to negotiate a space within the existing discourse initially by echoing the prevailing opinions of male reformers, but, having established their voice, they soon began to identify issues of specific importance to Muslim women. During a second phase, many of the same women initiated reformist activities and organizations that aimed to take practical steps for women’s education and emancipation, with 2

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female leaders justifying their unprecedented action by maintaining strict customary norms in the new institutions. It was not until the third phase that a larger group of Muslim women began to display increased levels of politicization and radicalism, some taking part in overtly political movements and other conflicting openly with male leaders over feminist issues. This first generation of Muslim female activists, then, facilitated this process, not by storming the bastions of male supremacy, but by building gradually on existing practices in order to introduce limited change. Thus, the main theme to emerge out of this study is the way in which Muslim women of this era balanced continuity and innovation. Naturally, this scheme of development continued in the years leading up to Partition, but this study will end in 1930 before the commencement of widespread popular movements that introduced a more complex range of factors to the question of Muslim women’s political identity.9 Two main methods will be employed in this work to look at this pioneering group of women in more detail. First of all, special significance will be attached to Muslim women’s changing attitudes to class, gender and communal identities as they are understood to be variable notions that can be imbued with new meanings and old connotations in a particular historical context. This point is all the more appropriate to post-1857 India in that it was a period in which indigenous groups were seeking to accommodate themselves to the new colonial order, while, at the same time, constructing a sense of nation. For Muslims of the old “service classes,” displaced by the fall of the Mughal dynasty, a vital aspect of this process was to redefine the concept of high status contained in the Urdu word sharif (pl. ashraf) in terms of their new socio-economic surroundings. The sense of “nobility” attached to sharif status shifted from being a characteristic of birth to an aspect of good character. The sharif gentleman was no longer epitomized by the extravagant nawab who squandered his resources and neglected his religion; rather, it was one who was educated, pious and restrained in his behaviour.10 This process of negotiation similarly led Muslim reformers and politicians to begin addressing themselves to a particular community as it had been defined by the colonial state. Increasingly, the “Indian Muslims,” previously fragmented by social, economic and geographic factors, were identified as a homogenous group with specific interests.11 As will be seen, women’s uplift became a crucial aspect of this programme to improve the status of ashraf Muslims and, in turn, the whole Indian Muslim community. The second method will be to limit this study geographically to the princely state of Bhopal, a 7,000 square mile (or 11,200 square kilometre) patch of “jungles and hilly tracts” carved out of the fertile Malwa plateau in central India.12 Deemed to be the second most important Muslim state in India after Hyderabad in the colonial period, it was founded in the early eighteenth century when Dost Muhammad Khan, an Afghan adventurer, broke with the declining Mughal regime to establish a fort and small kingdom 3

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in the region.13 This choice of locality is not, of course, arbitrary, but based on the long history of female power and influence in the state. From its very establishment, Bhopal boasted prominent women who were active in public and political life – Dost Muhammad’s own wife, Fatah Bibi, successfully defending the fledgling principality against warring Rajputs and Marathas when her husband returned to Afghanistan to gather kinsmen and supporters. In commemoration of her success, both the fort at Bhopal (Fatah Garh) and the emblem of the state (Fatah Nishan) were named after her.14 Succeeding her in influence were Mamola Bai (known as Maji Sahiba) and Saliha Begam (known as Bahu Begam), the wives of two subsequent rulers, who effectively administered the state throughout the middle of the eighteenth century. Both receive extensive mention – the first for her goodness and sense and the second for her treachery and oppression – in all general histories of the state, both in English and Urdu, a detail that is fairly remarkable when considering the frequent concealment of women’s influence in Muslim states.15 Though less well-known, Bhopal’s royal women of the late eighteenth century, notably Asmat Begam, Zeenat Begam and Moti Begam, continued to play a prominent role in the political development of the state, courageously manipulating both internal and external threats to its sovereignty.16 Women’s political influence in Bhopal was carried a stage further in 1819 when the ruling Nawab died suddenly, leaving his 18-year-old widow, Qudsia Begam, to be invested with the supreme authority of the state. Appointed regent by the British Political Agent until her daughter, Sikandar, came of age and married, Qudsia emerged from behind the veil, hired a tutor to teach her the necessary skills of riding and the arts of war, then proceeded to introduce wide-ranging reforms, most notably, waterworks. Sikandar Begam followed in this tradition, forcibly claiming the throne from her husband and proving herself to be a highly competent ruler. She distinguished herself in particular for her loyalty to the British during the Indian rebellion of 1857 and for large-scale administrative reforms. As a result, the British withdrew their proviso that the husband of the Begam would become Nawab, naming her only daughter, Shah Jahan Begam, as sovereign in her own right upon the death of Sikandar in 1867. When Shah Jahan Begam also failed to bear a son, the dynasty of female rule in Bhopal was confirmed.17 Her daughter, Sultan Jahan Begam, succeeded to the throne in 1901 for a 25-year reign as the last Begam of Bhopal, before abdicating in favour of her son in 1926. It is the period from her accession to the throne in 1901 until her death in 1930 that will be focussed on in this study, although the reigns of the earlier Begams will be investigated in some detail in the first chapter – thus embellishing on the brief narrative provided here – in order to assess their status as role models.18 Nawab Sultan Jahan Begam moulded the state of Bhopal into a centre for the reform of India’s Muslim women, establishing unique social and 4

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educational institutions that placed her at the forefront of an India-wide movement to transform women’s status. Her “larger than life” presence has meant that she has dominated largely the available sources on Bhopal in this period and, as a consequence, this discussion. But my decision to allow her to commandeer the story is not unjustified if one considers the great sway that she held over her subjects – even having the ability, as an autocratic ruler, to employ financial coercion and legislate change – or the essential leadership and patronage that she provided to a burgeoning network of women reformers across India in the early twentieth century. Indeed, her location at the conjuncture of several historical worlds – princely, colonial, Muslim – means that her political life and thinking can be used as a “window” to examine a broader development occurring among Muslim women in India and the Islamic world. I have not given in entirely to her dominance though: a substantial effort has been made, where source materials have allowed, to examine the activities of other Bhopali women, whether poor, privileged or princely – and not all of whom were, even at the elite level, Muslim. This point will be elucidated in Chapter 2, but it is worth noting here that there are many Hindu and Christian women who play a significant part in this history. Muslim women, however, remain in the leading roles, determining, as will be seen, the idiom in which this reformist message was articulated – and, hence, I have privileged them in the title of this study.

Bridging the “missing link”: a historiographical survey My attention was initially drawn to the princely state of Bhopal by a passing reference in a popular travel book on contemporary Muslim women in India. The eleventh of many vignette-like chapters in Anees Jung’s Night of the New Moon began: In the heart of every Muslim woman in Bhopal survives a magical island. She traces it back to a vision, of four women who ruled and guided the destinies of the state for more than a hundred years. They ruled like men, rode horses and elephants, wore no veil and were referred to as Nawabs. In today’s Bhopal, a city that has moved like any other, their memories live on, striking echoes in the daily lives of people.19 This less than scholarly mention of a “magical island” suggested that there was more to the history of Indian Muslim women than tales of sexual frustration or domestic drudgery behind the veil. Here, in Bhopal, was a long chain of politically powerful Muslim women who had made a lasting impact on the public domain. Their histories naturally became the focus for my study, making it part of a fairly recent move on the part of scholars to begin treating Muslim women as more complex subjects in possession of a history. This development, having originated in connection with West Asia, led, in 5

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the first instance, to the publication of valuable collections on the changing roles of the women in that region, including Lois Beck and Nikki Keddie’s Women in the Muslim World, Nikki Keddie and Beth Baron’s Women in Middle Eastern Society and Lila Abu-Lughod’s Remaking Women.20 In recent years, more localized studies have also emerged that examine the effects of the colonial encounter on women’s status, as well as women’s involvement in reformist and nationalist movements in Egypt, Iran and other areas.21 Focussing on the Islamic heartland, they provide a useful background to studies on other parts of the Muslim world. In the South Asian context, Gail Minault and Barbara Metcalf have pioneered scholarly research on the history of Muslim women. Their extensive writings continue to be the definitive work on the topic, despite the recent proliferation of broad studies on Indian Muslim women,22 because they provide, not only intricate detail, but also an analytical framework. Both authors have approached the study of Muslim women from the perspective of movements for socio-religious reform and, as a result, their work can be seen to build on earlier studies of Aligarh College and the Deoband madrasa.23 Their conceptual approach also relates to Kenneth W. Jones’ broad study of reform movements, in which he identifies a dichotomy between “transitional movements,” which were pre-colonial in origin and made use of indigenous models of dissent, and “acculturative movements,” which resulted from cultural reaction in the colonial era.24 As Metcalf has identified, two corresponding strands emerged in the movement for Muslim women’s reform in the late nineteenth century. The first was led by the ‘ulama, who, steeped in Islamic tradition, devised a programme of reform largely independently of European influence. The second incorporated social reformers and apologists, who, motivated by their encounter with the colonial power, responded directly to European critiques and took example from Western prototypes.25 This model is not, of course, without fluidity: the ‘ulama were affected by the European presence in India, just as the reformers preserved continuities with pre-British Indian society. Nevertheless, it provides a useful tool for analysing the process of interaction between the colonial power and the Indian Muslim community. The writings of Minault and Metcalf are, to a large degree, distinguished by their focus on one of these two strands. Metcalf has concentrated specifically on the efforts of the reformist ‘ulama, most notably, Maulana Ashraf Ali Thanawi of Deoband, to improve the moral and material lives of women and their families by educating them in the “true” practices of Islam. Her translation and commentary on Thanawi’s Bihishti Zewar (Heavenly Ornaments), as well as her various articles on the subject, not only provide an admirable internal critique of Thanawi’s writing, but also place it in the context of reformist writing of the Deoband school. She has not, however, identified the effect that this guide for middle- and upper-class women has had on female readers throughout the ages. Undoubtedly, this was not her 6

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intention, but it remains an important area for investigation.26 Minault, on the other hand, has launched a lengthy inquiry into educational activities for ashraf women in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries by reformers of the Aligarh school, including Shaikh Abdullah, Sayyid Mumtaz Ali and Sayyid Karamat Husain. Her numerous articles, as well as her recent book, Secluded Scholars, primarily identify Muslim women, as Metcalf does, as the objects of a male reformist programme. She analyses the development of tracts on women’s reform, Urdu journals for women, early girls’ schools and inaugural ladies’ conferences, all of which were guided, if not run, by men. This focus is somewhat justified if one accepts her premise that the movement for women’s education among Indian Muslim was pioneered by “articulate and literate men” who were also at the forefront of other prominent educational ventures, including the Muhammadan Educational Conference.27 There were, however, women’s voices – notably, those of the Begams of Bhopal – that were being heard throughout the same period. In her work on the 1910s and 1920s, Minault has managed, at least to a degree, to get beyond the male-regulated agenda in order to discuss early social and political organization by Muslim women themselves. In the final chapter of Secluded Scholars, as well as in other short articles, she discusses the emerging views of the “daughters of reform,” the first generation of women who received a school education, took up a profession or contributed to Urdu journalism.28 Minault’s work in this direction represents an admirable beginning, although these women, as she admits herself, “deserve a much fuller study” than they have as yet been given. She also notes that the activities of Muslim women from different regions in India require a more comprehensive investigation.29 Minault has focussed on the Urdu-speaking reformers of North India, with only an occasional mention of other centres of Muslim reform such as Hyderabad, Bombay, Calcutta and Bhopal. Recent work on Muslim women in colonial Bengal and Punjab by Sonia Nishat Amin, Dushka Saiyid and others has begun to redress this geographic disparity.30 Nevertheless, the regional aspects of Muslim reform still need to be analysed in much more detail. From this brief summary, one can identify many “missing links” in the historiography on Indian Muslim women, some of which this study hopes to fill by looking specifically at Sultan Jahan Begam and the first generation of Muslim female reformers connected with Bhopal. As a second aim, it intends to take a step towards redressing the paucity of academic literature on the princely states of India. Nearly 600 principalities, including Bhopal, continued to exist throughout the colonial period as a result of “treaties of friendship and cooperation” that were signed in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth century between local rulers and the East India Company. Including two-fifths of the area and one-third of the population of the British Indian Empire, they ranged from tiny feudal estates, occupying just an acre of land, to vast polities with modern political and economic institutions. 7

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Ruled by Maharajas, Nizams, Ranas and Nawabs, they survived as pockets of indigenous rule, distinct from the Indian provinces and largely untouched by British encroachment.31 Vast numbers of books have been published over the last few decades on colonial South Asia, but the distinctive histories of these fascinating states have, at least in comparison, been largely ignored as a topic for enquiry. More often than not, popular writers have seized on the colourful history of the princes for gossip-filled accounts or glossy coffee-table books. Vibrant photographs have been mingled with royal tales, real and imagined, in the hope of profiting from the now deposed rulers. Typical of this genre is John Lord’s The Maharajahs, which provides entertaining anecdotes about a range of prominent Indian rulers, giving them such charming titles as “The Heir of Sadness” (the Maharaja of Dewas Senior), “The Tiger Freak” (The Maharaja of Gwalior) and “The Man Who Was a Goddess” (The Maharaja of Mysore).32 Until very recently, there were only a handful of books that seriously addressed the history of the princely states. The majority of these, including Ian Copland’s The Princes of India in the Endgame of Empire, Barbara Ramusack’s The Princes of India in the Twilight of Empire and Steven Ashton’s British Policy Towards the Indian States, focussed on diplomatic relations between the princes and the British government in the run-up to Indian independence. Social, economic or internal political developments within individual states were not covered, except where they related to imperial politics.33 The volume edited by Robin Jeffrey, People, Princes and Paramount Power, considered similar grand themes, but included several articles on the political activities in particular states.34 A few authors, including Copland, Jeffrey and Ramusack, also provided this individual treatment of a state’s political history in various journal articles.35 It is only in recent years, however, that more extensive studies on internal political events within princely states have began to emerge and, as yet, these have focussed primarily on the last years of princely rule. Two studies of this type on Bhopal are Kamla Mittal’s History of Bhopal State and Rajendra Verma’s The Freedom Struggle in Bhopal State, both of which rather shamelessly display their authors’ close identification with the merger movement in the state, rather than giving a balanced analysis of events.36 An earlier study of Bhopal by local academic, Syed Ashfaq Ali, Bhopal – Past and Present, Shaharyar M. Khan’s gracefully written family history, The Begums of Bhopal, and Claudia Preckel’s carefully researched survey, Begums of Bhopal, as well as a recent publication in Urdu, Rajah Bhoj se Ajtuk ka Bhopal (A History of Bhopal from Raja Bhoj to the Present), proved to be more useful starting points for this work, since they cover, at least in a cursory fashion, socioreligious, as well as political history.37 By moving further in this direction, my own work on Bhopal emerges as part of a new and increasingly flourishing trend in historical writing, which highlights the differences between states 8

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and the changes that occurred over time, rather than simply dismissing the princes as frivolous reminders of a bygone age.38 In doing so, it also rejects the notion of Indian kingship in this period as a “hollow crown.”39

Structure, strategies and sources The contents and structure of this study reflect, to a large degree, its focus on the Nawab Begam of Bhopal and the area in which she lived. This remarkable woman led me into many issues that I had not expected to cover, as well as away from certain others – her stubborn and pragmatic refusal as a princely ruler tied to British interests to engage with nationalism, for instance, meaning that, though this issue has been seen as key to changes in women’s status in this period, it becomes part of this story only tangentially. Instead, the chapters that follow highlight the multiple discourses and contexts in which Sultan Jahan Begam operated, beginning, in the first two chapters, with an introduction to her world. As suggested above, it does so first by focussing on the legacy of her formidable foremothers in terms of their influence on her development as a ruler and reformer, asking what kind of role models they were – either to follow or reject – in terms of reformist developments in the nineteenth century. It also investigates the direct impact made – for instance, in terms of her education and marriage – by the Begams Qudsia, Sikandar and Shah Jahan. The second chapter then investigates how Sultan Jahan Begam tackled the challenge of ruling Bhopal state from her accession to the throne in 1901 until her abdication in 1926 in order to answer a number of important questions relating to her subjects, the Bhopal court and the British overlord. Specifically, it asks how the Begam treated different groups within Bhopali society, how Bhopal’s financial and administrative arrangements impacted on its ruler’s patronage of reformist projects, and how Bhopal fitted into the imperial structure. In the subsequent four chapters – really the heart of this study – I discuss various themes as they were articulated in Sultan Jahan Begam’s writings and speeches, and by her own activities and example. The first that is taken up, in Chapter 3, is female education, as it was this matter that occupied the Begam more than any other, whether in terms of justifying it to the Muslim community, founding girls’ schools or training poor widows and orphans. Chapter 4 then looks at veiling and seclusion as these practices were related to the process of defining limits on Muslim women’s movement, institutionalizing purdah in schools, supplementary educational institutions and women’s organizations, and diffusing generational conflict. In Chapter 5, women’s health reforms are examined with an emphasis on the professionalization of female health practitioners and medical institutions, the education of mothers in the basic elements of childbirth, first aid and home nursing, and the spread of principles on sanitation and hygiene to poor women in particular. The last theme explored, in Chapter 6, is women’s 9

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rights and duties with a focus on the Begam’s explication of women’s status in Islam, her efforts to foster an Indian sisterhood, particularly through the establishment of women’s organizations, and her participation in the debate over women’s political rights in India. The final chapter then offers some conclusions as to the relationship between Muslim women and reform, with specific reference to the princely context, before discussing briefly the Nawab Begam’s own legacy. As can be seen from this brief outline, this study covers early efforts by a particular group of Indian Muslim women to increase their social and educational rights and opportunities within their society by carving out a role in a kind of public space. This type of activism has been defined as “feminist” by certain contemporary Western and Westernized authors, as well as by some early Muslim female activists, like Huda Sha‘rawi, who formed the Egyptian Feminist Union (or, in Arabic, al-Ittihad al-Nisa’i al-Misri) in 1923.40 Though of the same era, Sultan Jahan Begam and her circle of followers in Bhopal do not appear to have used a comparable term, instead employing less emotive words such as tahzib (reform) and tarbiyat (cultivation) – the latter applied to a disciplined programme of instruction from the late nineteenth century, but rooted in a botanical sense of “nurture”41 – to describe their efforts to improve the status of women. Following their lead – as well as that of other historians of Muslim women, like Beth Baron, who question the applicability of a broadly defined feminism to this kind of activism42 – I have chosen to privilege these terms in the title and chapters of this study in order to highlight the sensitive and pragmatic way in which these women built on a range of different colonial and Islamic models in order to introduce incremental change. To do so also hints at the ruling Begam’s status as a cajoling maternal figure within the Indian women’s movement of the early twentieth century – summed up not only in the epithet, “Begam Mother,” commonly applied to her after her abdication in 1926, but also in the fictive relationships that she evoked in her exchanges with other reformers and princely rulers. Consider, for instance, how both the Aga Khan and the Nawab of Rampur addressed Sultan Jahan Begam as “mother” in private correspondence to which she responded by urging her “good son[s]” to follow her reformist example.43 The most important sources for this study have been the tracts, books, reports, letters, and journal articles of Sultan Jahan Begam and other women in Bhopal. Most of these writings are in Urdu, though certain key texts, like the ruling Begam’s three-volume autobiography, are available in English translation. On the whole, these sources are deposited in the Oriental and India Office Collection of the British Library, although I also consulted a selection of women’s journals, including Zil us-Sultan (published in Bhopal), at the Maulana Azad Library of Aligarh Muslim University, and a substantial number of rare books and unpublished manuscripts, including the young Sultan Jahan’s diary, as part of the private collection of the late Princess 10

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Abida Sultaan in Karachi, Pakistan. Here, I was also treated to Princess Abida’s recollections of her eminent grandmother in the form of lengthy conversations, which I recorded on cassette tape, and her own written memoirs.44 These uniquely personal sources not only provided vital insight into major historical events of the period, but also infused my study with a certain human quality, which, I hope, comes across in the chapters that follow. Also extremely valuable were the essentially untapped Bhopal State Records, which are held in the local branch of the National Archives of India in Bhopal. These records include the annual administrative reports and Political Department files of the Bhopal durbar, written in a mixture of shikasta Urdu and English, and offer a rare internal view of political activities in the state. As women’s activism was state-sponsored, the files also contain detailed information on the establishment of schools, clubs, hospitals, exhibitions and associations for women, both within the state and at a national level. An “inside” view of women’s reformist activity was also gained by consulting the official reports of early organizations and institutions. The library of the All-India Women’s Conference in New Delhi proved to be particularly useful in this respect since it contains a nearly complete collection of the organization’s publications since its establishment in 1927. In order to “round out” the official picture, I also used the personal writings of pioneering women activists, like Begam Humayon Mirza of Hyderabad, who wrote detailed descriptions in Urdu of the events surrounding early women’s meetings. These narratives provided essential data, not only on the characters of the women involved, but also on the debates that went on behind the scenes. An important “external” source on Bhopali women’s reformist activity was the Government of India records, most notably the Bhopal Political Agency files, which appear to have been shifted only fairly recently to the National Archives of India in New Delhi, and the Crown Representative records at the India Office in London. The manuscript collections of British officers in India and their wives, as they are preserved in the libraries of the India Office and Cambridge University, also contain memoirs and letters, both official and private, which comment on the early Muslim women’s movement. Another valuable British source was the records, publications and private letters of the Quaker missionaries, most of whom were women, who lived and worked in Bhopal state. This archival collection appears to have been hardly touched by scholars of South Asia despite being preserved in an immaculate condition in Friends’ House in London. As the Quakers were largely unfettered by either the imperialist mission or the Begam of Bhopal’s political agenda, they were able to assess fairly independently the process of women’s reform in the state, as well as the impact of foreign ideas.45 Together with the wide range of sources described above, this collection has enabled me to piece together the early history of Muslim women and 11

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reform in India through the lens of the Begam of Bhopal, and discover that it was as much a story of paradox as of progress.

A note on transliteration With the exception of the ‘ain (‘) and the hamza (’), diacritical marks have been largely omitted from the body of the text. They are only used in the rare case when I have wanted to make a point about pronunciation or they are included in the title of an English text. On the whole, transliteration follows the system used in John T. Platts’ Dictionary of Urdu¯, Classical Hindı¯ and English,46 for no other reason than it is the dictionary I have always used while learning Urdu and translating texts. I have retained the English spelling of most Indian place names, but personal names have been transliterated according to Platts’ system (though without the ‘ain or hamza), unless they are well known in translated or English publications by another spelling. This accounts, for example, for the variation in the spelling of Sulta¯n, a common name in Bhopal, between Sultan Jahan Begam and Princess Abida Sultaan. The Persian izafat has been denoted by “-i-” (as in Anjuman-iKhawatin-i-Islam), while the Arabic definite article, “al-,” appears as it would be pronounced (i.e. as Zil us-Sultan, rather than Zil al-Sultan). The only exception is when I am quoting from a source, which does not use this system. On the whole, Urdu and Arabic words have been denoted by italics, unless they are used frequently, as is the case with the terms “purdah” and “zenana.”

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1 MODELS AND INHERITANCES

Born in 1858, Sultan Jahan Begam was heir to a remarkable legacy. As seen in the introduction, three generations of Muslim female rulers had come before her, establishing Bhopal as an oasis of female agency and power within India’s patriarchal order. Of course, the significance of the year should not be ignored; as she noted in her autobiography, she had the “high privilege” to begin her life in the very year that rule by the East India Company was ended in favour of the British crown, an event that, “like a sun rising in the West, brought life and vigour to the fainting East.”1 This dramatic imagery no doubt reflected the Begam’s acquiescence to Orientalist theories of Muslim and Asian historical decline, as well as the success of the Queen’s Proclamation in moulding the princely order into key collaborators of the British in India. What is more relevant to this discussion, however, is the local and, indeed, familial context for her birth. What influence did her female predecessors have on her development as a ruler and reformer? Were they an inspiration to her later writings and activities? Or did she react against the reformist agenda set in Bhopal in the nineteenth century? And how was she shaped directly – for example, by the provision of education – by the Begams Qudsia, Sikandar and Shah Jahan? In the first chapter of Secluded Scholars, Gail Minault addresses this theme of Muslim female role models explicitly, investigating the patterns that were set for ashraf women in particular in mid- to late nineteenth-century India. Discounting the Begams of Bhopal themselves, her examples are more “ideal” than “real,” encompassing, in the main, fictional heroines from the novels of the first generation of Aligarh reformers. She narrates, for instance, the story told in Nazir Ahmad Dehlavi’s Mir’at ul-‘Arus (The Bride’s Mirror, 1869) of two sisters, Akbari and Asghari, who, in temperament and ability, are in complete contrast. Akbari, the elder, is illiterate, ill-natured and idle, while her younger sister, Asghari – who had been educated at home – is clever, compassionate, respectful and hard-working. In the course of the novel, Asghari proves herself to be the ideal of the reformed woman: not only does she uncover a dishonest servant, find her husband good employment, arrange a suitable marriage for her sister-in-law and start a school in 13

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her home for respectable girls, but she also observes purdah, advocates arranged marriages and always remains loyal to her husband and family. It was these latter qualities that made her education and independent action acceptable, as the thousands of Indian girls and women who read this book privately or at school in the late nineteenth century would surely have recognized.2 Nevertheless, the Deobandi ‘alim, Maulana Ashraf Ali Thanawi, proscribed it, as well as its sequel, Banat un-Na‘sh (The Daughters of the Bier), and most of Nazir Ahmad’s other novels on women, including Muhsinat (The Chaste Woman) and Ayama (Widows),3 in his renowned advice manual, Bihishti Zewar. Barbara Metcalf postulates that it is because Nazir Ahmad’s female characters learn “cosmopolitan” subjects like geography and history, play with dolls, take example from Englishwomen, read Urdu newspapers and generally display more ability and fortitude than the male characters that Thanawi rejects them.4 Nazir Ahmad’s themes were also to reappear in other books published after winning prizes in the competition organized by the LieutenantGovernor of the North Western Provinces, William Muir, to promote “useful” literature in the vernacular on social problems affecting women. That some of them – like Abdul Rahim Khan’s Chasmah-i-Khirad (The Spring of Wisdom, 1876), to take just one example – were also adopted as textbooks in girls’ schools in British India and the Muslim princely states highlights the role played by these lesser-known works in providing exemplars to girls of Sultan Jahan’s generation.5 A more celebrated “Muslim female paragon” discussed by Minault is Zubaida Khatun, the heroine of Altaf Husain Hali’s Majalis un-Nisa (Assemblies of Women, 1874). Having been taught the Qur’an, calligraphy, Persian and Urdu by her father and domestic sciences by her mother, she is able to overcome numerous obstacles in the way of her family’s happiness, making her an articulate proponent of female education. She is prudent, yet pious, conserving the family’s resources by eschewing expensive rituals and customs, including dowry, which are not in-keeping with textual Islam. Following her marriage, she turns her attention to inculcating her son, Sayyid Abbas, with the same virtues. The second part of the story documents his many successes in life, which result not from family ties or influential alliances, but from his own diligence, sagacity and resourcefulness. The message is clear: educated mothers play an essential role in the regeneration of the Muslim community by reforming their households and producing progressive sons. There is no mention of more extensive reforms such as higher education for women, the introduction of a Western curriculum or a reduction in purdah observance.6 These omissions meant that, though there are parallels, the reformist models being advocated for Muslim women in this period often differed dramatically from those set for Sultan Jahan by her foremothers in Bhopal.

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In the Qudsia mould In his family history of Bhopal, Shaharyar M. Khan asserts that Sultan Jahan Begam was, above all, “in the Qudsia mould.” He makes this judgement on the basis that, like this earlier Begam of Bhopal, she was “deeply religious, homely, frugal and ascetic.”7 Sultan Jahan Begam’s own writings confirm her admiration for these very qualities in her great-grandmother whom, thanks to her longevity, she knew personally into her early twenties. In the introduction to her biography, Hayat-i-Qudsi, she portrays her as an exemplary religious figure in terms reminiscent of traditional Islamic life-stories. As she wrote: “[Qudsia] was one of the most God-fearing, pious and virtuous ladies of her time. The interesting account of her virtues, charities, kindness to her subjects, benevolence to the poor, piety and sanctity can hardly be rivalled in the life of the great saints.”8 Yet there was also another factor that inspired her to write, namely that Qudsia Begam was the first woman to officially rule Bhopal. On this basis alone, her status as a role model for her successors can hardly be questioned. Interestingly, Qudsia Begam’s inspirational qualities manifested themselves even before she came to the throne. As a young girl, she had assisted her mother, Zeenat Begam, in rallying the general population of women in Bhopal when, in 1812, the city was besieged for six months by the chiefs of Nagpur and Gwalior. In this context, it should be noted that the nawabs of Bhopal had recognized Maratha supremacy over Malwa since the last years of Dost Muhammad Khan’s reign, but had retained an independent administration in-keeping with the tributary system of the confederacy. In the early nineteenth century, however, local Maratha chieftains, namely Daulat Rao Scindia and Rahuji Bhonsle, had sought to subdue Bhopal formally so that they could carve up the territory between them. Their challenge culminated with the siege of Bhopal in 1812. But, when the Nagpuri army had eventually breached one of the gates of the city, women had bombarded them with stones and bricks until they were compelled to retreat.9 The epic-like proportions that this episode assumed in the minds of Bhopali women may be seen in that Sultan Jahan Begam often evoked it in her writings and speeches to justify Muslim women’s participation in the public sphere from behind the veil (see Chapter 4). Qudsia Begam herself only became ruler of Bhopal in 1819 when she was appointed regent after the accidental death of her husband, Nazar Muhammad Khan. As explained in the introduction, the intention was that she would remain in this position until her infant daughter, Sikandar, came of age and married, at which time power would be transferred to her son-inlaw, thus restoring male succession in the state. In accepting this unorthodox arrangement, it appears that the British and their collaborators were seeking to deter rival factions from weakening Bhopal by fighting among themselves for control of the gaddi. These considerations ring all the more true if one

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considers the tumultuous political circumstances in central India at this time. It was only a year since the armies of the East India Company had defeated the Marathas once and for all. And it was only a year before that that the British had battled Pindari horsemen of Afghan and Rajput descent in the region.10 Clearly, the new paramount power did not want to risk the ascendance of hostile forces in a state with which it had just signed a “treaty of friendship and cooperation” a year before. To seal the arrangement, male members of Qudsia’s family and Bhopal’s highest religious authorities, including the mufti (jurisconsult) and the qazi (judge), signed a historic document that contradicted certain well-known hadith by acknowledging, in the spirit of early Islamic heroines like Bilqis and Aisha, a woman’s right to political power.11 Having ascended to the throne, Qudsia Begam established a style of rule that can only be described as Spartan. As one contemporary British observer noted: “The Begum was distinguished by an abhorrence of debt, to discharge which she was ever ready to dispose of her jewels and make other personal sacrifices.”12 The only activities on which she would expend state funds besides the army were those of a religious or philanthropic nature. As suggested in the introduction, her defining administrative project was a system of waterworks designed by a British engineer to supply clean drinking water to the people of Bhopal city. Maintained through a perpetual endowment, it continued to help fight waterborne diseases, like cholera, well into the twentieth century. Of a religious nature, she initiated the construction of a substantial mosque in the heart of the old city, as well as rubats (lodging halls) in Mecca and Medina to provide Bhopal’s pilgrims with free accommodation during the hajj. Funds were also made available for a dispensary and rest house in Ajmer for the benefit of pilgrims to the tomb of Khwaja Muinuddin Chishti, intimating a devotion to this Sufi pir.13 Sultan Jahan Begam attributed her great-grandmother’s ascetic approach – and, by extension, her own – to their descent from Afghan warriors who “cared more about a trusty sword and a stout hearted horse than luxurious palaces.”14 Notably, Qudsia was also renowned for her lavish patronage of various Sufi activities in Bhopal, including the mawlid (birth anniversary) of Abdul Qadir Jilani (1088–1166).15 As the major Qadiri centres were not in central India, but in Punjab, Awadh and Madras, it may be conjectured from these celebrations that a connection had been established between Bhopal and one or all of these areas, perhaps through scholars who sought employment in the state. In this context, it is relevant to note that, as the Mughal centre declined, successor states, like Hyderabad, Awadh and Bhopal, played an important role in providing alternative income to the ashraf of north India, notably the ‘ulama of Farangi Mahall.16 With regard to Bhopal specifically, we do know that the Begam Mother was recognized for the “singular discernment” that she displayed in choosing her state officers.17 Her four main advisors included: Shahzad Masih, a descendent of the French 16

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Bourbon family; Bakshi Muhammad Khan, a Pathan of the Mishti Khail; Mian Karam Muhammad Khan, a Pathan of the ruling family’s Mirazi Khail; and Raja Khushwakht Rai, a Hindu. As can be seen, they represented dominant clan and religious groups within the state. They were also descended from families that had proved their loyalty by serving Bhopal’s rulers for several generations.18 Qudsia is perhaps best remembered, however, for the resistance that she put up to returning the state to male leadership. Having delayed her daughter’s marriage for a number of years, she rejected the chosen suitor, Munir Muhammad Khan, entirely in 1827 on the basis of a seemingly false charge of impotency. Her stalling tactics were then shifted to his younger brother and replacement suitor, Jahangir Muhammad Khan, even after the young man complained to the Governor-General, Lord William Bentinck, in 1833. Finally, under pressure from the British representative, the marriage of Sikandar and Jahangir went ahead in 1835. But even that did not deter Qudsia from her purpose. Over the next two years, she and her supporters mounted an armed struggle against her son-in-law’s family in an attempt to deter them from claiming the gaddi.19 Interestingly, the British Political Agent in Bhopal, Lancelot Wilkinson, described her during this period in terms far from synonymous with Indian models of modesty and submissiveness: [Qudsia Begam] now begins to manifest frequent symptoms of furious passion approaching to insanity. She rides and walks about in public, and betrays her determination to maintain herself in power by learning the use of the spear and other manly accomplishments. At times she became quite frantic; and as one of the soldiers observed, more terrible to approach than a tigress. On these occasions her servants were greeted with abuse too gross for repetition.20 Quite an example to provide for her young daughter and successors! It is probably not surprising that Sultan Jahan Begam did not include these reports of her great-grandmother acting like a “tigress” in her own biography. Instead, she focussed, with reference to this period, on Wilkinson’s favouritism towards Jahangir even as the latter broke agreements and arranged assassination plots, thus intimating that the Political Agent was prejudiced against women rulers.21 She did, however, address the issue of purdah observance, noting that Qudsia had decided to “discard the veil” in the early 1830s on the basis that “ruling from behind the Purdah was like working in the dark.”22 Subsequently, Qudsia received petitions from her subjects, met with her ministers in person, undertook walking tours of the city to ascertain the condition of the poor, and led her troops into battle on horseback. It should be noted that, in contemporary terms, the Begam did not abandon the veil completely, but rather wore a “head dress after the 17

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Arabian fashion.”23 According to portraits painted late in her life, this style involved covering her head and bosom with a large scarf, but leaving her face bare.24 In her account, Sultan Jahan suggests that Qudsia’s decision was necessitated, first, by the dangerous political circumstances in Bhopal at the time and, second, by the rigid form of purdah that was the custom. No doubt these considerations influenced the type of lessons that she drew from her great-grandmother’s example.25 The skirmishes between the followers of Qudsia and Jahangir culminated in a battle at Ashta in 1837 in which the latter received the support of British forces. Though dominant in Bhopal itself, the Begam Mother was convinced by the recent treatment of the Rani of Gwalior and the Begam of Awadh – both of whom had been deported when they had pressed political claims in the 1830s – that her bid to continue as head of state would not be successful without the backing of the paramount power.26 Hence, this incident signified the end of Qudsia’s 18-year reign as ruler of Bhopal. Her most important feat had been to gain control of the gaddi for women, thus opening the doors to Sultan Jahan Begam’s reign nearly a century later. But that was not her only contribution. She had also provided a model of ascetic rule in which state and private funds were not wasted frivolously on pomp or amusements, but dedicated to administrative reform, charitable deeds and religious endowments. She had also abandoned purdah, displayed exemplary military skills and performed complex political manoeuvring in response to her troubled historical times. Though Sultan Jahan knew her great-grandmother only as a pious old widow, she could not have helped but have been motivated by her remarkable exploits half a century before.

Sikandar as ideal Sultan Jahan Begam’s own writings emphasize that her primary role model as a ruler and a reformer was her grandmother, Nawab Sikandar Begam, who ruled the state of Bhopal, first as regent from 1844 until 1860, then as full-fledged nawab from 1860 to 1868. The inspiration that she took from this figure is apparent from her autobiography in that she dedicates the first chapter, not to the events of her childhood as one may expect, but rather to a description of the administrative reforms of Sikandar’s reign. She justifies the inclusion of this discussion within her own story on the basis that it was “an essential and instructive portion of the history of the state.”27 This comment implies that she not only followed Sikandar’s example herself, but also expected others to do so, particularly within the ruling family. This analysis is corroborated by the writings of Sultan Jahan Begam’s granddaughter, Princess Abida Sultaan; in her memoirs, she confirms that her grandmother sought to mould her into being like her own “ideal” and “role model,” namely, Sikandar Begam.28 One may speculate that the influence that Sultan Jahan Begam took from her own grandmother was due to Sikandar – and not 18

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the girl’s mother – taking complete responsibility for her upbringing from birth until the age of 10. Recognition of Sikandar’s status as Sultan Jahan’s primary inspiration leads one to question what kind of role model she was. In terms of her administrative duties, there is no doubt that Sikandar was a reform-oriented ruler who stimulated her successors to play an active role in their state. In their respective histories of Bhopal, both Shah Jahan and Sultan Jahan highlight how she successfully restructured the military and police forces, transport, the revenue and judicial systems, and civil administration.29 In a radical move for the time, she also replaced Persian with Urdu as Bhopal’s court language, making Bhopal the first Muslim princely state to operate in the vernacular.30 The effect of these reforms appears to have been to centralize state power in the hands of the ruler and her advisors, while, at the same time, making the administrative system more accessible to the people of Bhopal. In response to her efforts, Sultan Jahan goes so far as to describe her grandmother’s role in Bhopal as being comparable to that of Akbar within the Mughal Empire; both rulers, she claims, came to the throne at a “critical” point, overcame the immediate “dangers,” then brought the government to such a “high state of efficiency” that it continued to be “recognized and praised in every civilized country.”31 Significantly, observers from outside the state, whether British or Indian, upheld this view of Sikandar as an exemplary ruler. For example, in an article in the Hindoo Patriot published upon her death, a Bengali Hindu author claimed that Sikandar was the “best by far of all the native sovereigns of India of our time, the ablest, wisest, most enlightened, and most fortunate.”32 Accounts by contemporary and later British officers echoed these themes. Colonel G. B. Malleson, former guardian of the Maharaja of Mysore, for instance, noted in his published work on the princely states, “[Sikandar Begam] displayed in all departments of the State an energy, an assiduity, and an administrative ability such as would have done credit to a trained statesman.”33 The top officials in India were not far behind with their praise. In a speech at a durbar in central India in the mid-1860s, Lord Lawrence, Governor-General of India during the final years of Sikandar’s reign, even encouraged other princely rulers to emulate her style of administration.34 And she had not been forgotten by the twentieth century, as an address by Lord Hardinge, then Viceroy, during a visit to Bhopal in 1912 confirms.35 One may question why Sikandar, as compared to other Indian rulers, received this high level of commendation, especially from British commentators. Read in their entirety, the above-quoted sources confirm she was held up as a model by the colonial state, not simply on account of her reforms to the state apparatus, but also because she had remained loyal to the British even during the “darkest days” of the Indian rebellion. Though her own mother and the Bhopal ‘ulama had encouraged her to rebel, she had, in fact, suppressed the mutinous forces within Bhopal, offered refuge to 19

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British civilians in the region, and provided troops to aid the British cause outside of the state.36 Seemingly, the Begam, like the Nizam of Hyderabad and other non-Maratha princes, had conceived of the revolt, not as a movement to restore Muslim power in India, but rather as an attempt by their former enemies to regain a position of dominance. Faced with this threat, Sikandar offered her support to a British administration that had guaranteed the integrity of her state since 1818. And, for her loyalty, she was richly rewarded. In 1860 the British government finally recognized Sikandar’s right to rule the state in her own name. She was also awarded a 19-gun salute, which was to be retained by future rulers of Bhopal, and granted sovereignty over the district of Bairasia, a territory that had earlier been lost to the neighbouring state of Tonk. Finally, in 1861, she was invested with the Exalted Order of the Star of India (GCSI), making her, at the time, the only female knight in the British Empire besides Queen Victoria.37 To her granddaughter, the lesson must have been clear: loyalty was the key to survival. On the topic of administration, Sultan Jahan does record in her autobiography that, during her childhood, her grandmother would often give her “wise counsel” with regard to the means of running the state. The only lesson that she credits her with having proffered explicitly, however, was in relation to the agricultural sector. Evidently, Sikandar’s “first and most earnest injunction” was always to the following effect: The cultivators of the soil are our wealth; that we are able to rule, and to live in state and luxury, is owing to the labour and industry of these poor people. When you become the ruler of the State, look upon the fostering of this humble but useful class as your first and highest duty.38 This instruction highlights, not only the essentially feudal nature of Bhopal state, but also the expectation of benevolence from its “lord.” Sikandar, like other princes in India, was an absolute ruler, but only within the limited framework of the subsidiary alliance system. As such, she sought to avoid the Orientalists’ label of “despotism” being applied to her regime on account of agrarian discontent, as that could have led to the dissolution of her state in the way of Satara, Jhansi, neighbouring Nagpur and Awadh, especially during the governor-generalship of Dalhousie (1848–56).39 Obviously, Sikandar wanted to inculcate this value into the young Sultan Jahan. It should be emphasized that Sikandar’s benevolence was certainly not limited to the agriculturalists of her state. On the contrary, she was renowned as a patron of cultural and religious pursuits throughout India and across the Muslim world. In her youth, she and her husband, Jahangir Muhammad Khan (ruled 1837–44), distinguished Bhopal as a cultural centre on the model of the Mughal court in Delhi, patronizing various literary figures, including the famous Urdu poet, Ghalib, as well as making their own contributions to creative writing.40 During her regency, the mood within the 20

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Bhopal court was rather more sombre, as it was not poets but religious scholars that she invited to settle and find employment within the state. Perhaps most influential among these figures was Maulvi Jamaluddin Khan, who acted as Sikandar’s diwan (chief minister) from 1852 until her death. It seems that he was known widely as a distinguished theologian on account of having studied in Delhi with the descendants of Shah Waliullah (1703–63) and taken part in the religious reform movement of Sayyid Ahmad of Rai Bareilly (1786–1831), known as the Tariqah-i-Muhammadiyya, before arriving in Bhopal.41 It may, thus, be assumed that he played a central role in introducing this strain of Islamic reformism to the state. Rooted in the Naqshbandiya Sufi order and influenced by Wahabbism, it rejected the customs and rituals of popular Islamic practice in favour of a purified prophetic message as contained in the Qur’an and the sunnah. It also emphasized the role of ijtihad (individual inquiry and reasoning by Islamic scholars), Sufic disciplinary techniques and study in the vernacular. It does not seem, however, that, while fulfilling the position of diwan, he followed Sayyid Ahmad Bareilly in highlighting the importance of acting on one’s beliefs by launching a jihad (sacred war) against the British in India.42 His influence on Sikandar is perhaps best exemplified by a passage in her hajj narrative, A Pilgrimage to Mecca, in which she recounted that she had, at his suggestion, sought to have the Qur’an translated into Turkish during her stay in Mecca – “in order that those Turks who were unable to understand it in the original, might be acquainted with it by this means” – just as Shah Waliullah had translated it into Persian and his son, Abdul Qadir, into Urdu. Interestingly, the Pasha of Mecca actually forbade her from going ahead with this project on the basis that “a translation of the Koràn itself was not allowed”; if “the lower orders” wanted insight into the holy book, he advised her, they could consult a commentary in Turkish instead. Predictably, she ignored his advice on the basis that it seemed “adverse to the weal of the common people” and ordered for the translation to go ahead anyway.43 In doing so, she anticipated what was to become a central tenet of the programme of Turkish nationalists, like Ziya Gökalp (1875 / 6–1924), in the early twentieth century.44 Her identification with Shah Waliullah’s ideas, assumedly transmitted by Maulvi Jamaluddin, was also evident from her consistent portrayal of herself in this context as a frugal – and, hence, prudent – ruler. Though she was generous with her charitable donations, as would be expected of a Muslim pilgrim, she denounced the “indiscriminate” nature of, for instance, her mother’s liberality.45 Notably, Maulvi Jamaluddin was also responsible for convincing Sikandar to provide state employment to Sayyid Siddiq Hasan, a leading figure in the Ahl-i-hadith movement and future consort to Shah Jahan Begam. His ideas will be discussed in more detail below in the context of his wife’s influence on her daughter, but what is relevant to note here is that it was in Bhopal during the reign of Sikandar that he was brought into contact with the ideas of 21

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leading Yemeni reformers. This influence was made possible by the fact that Sikandar encouraged numerous scholars to relocate to Bhopal directly from the Arabian peninsula. These included two influential brothers from Yemen: Zayn ul-Abidin ul-Hudaydi and Husain Ibn Muhsin. They held highly responsible positions in the state, the first being appointed state qazi (judge) and the second gaining a teaching post at a local madrasa. Seemingly, they were responsible for introducing, in particular, the works of the reformist Yemeni scholar, Muhammad Ibn Ali ash-Shaukani (d.1834), with his emphatic emphasis on ijtihad to Siddiq Hasan and others within Bhopal.46 Sikandar’s patronage of these various scholars must have encouraged her granddaughter to become familiar with their ideas, as well as, in years to come, support Islamic learning herself. In the context of this discussion of Muslim scholars in Bhopal, it is also appropriate to look to Sikandar herself as a role model for Sultan Jahan’s reformist ideas. To this end, we may ask: how did she “fit” with the intellectual debates that were going on in the Muslim community in India in the nineteenth century? Curiously, she does not appear to have supported the “Wahabi” stance – whatever the school – of those scholars to whom she gave employment. Rather, she located herself firmly within the camp of the Aligarh reformer, Sayyid Ahmad Khan, by expressing public support for his views long before he was recognized as a leader within the Muslim community. Indeed, in 1866, just two years before her death, she presented him with an expensive jewelled ring, which he donated to the Scientific Society of Aligarh to fund educational activities.47 Undoubtedly, the Nawab Begam, as one of the few Indian princes to remain loyal to the British during the Indian rebellions, was in agreement with his opinion, as spelled out in The Loyal Muhammadans of India and elsewhere, that the only means to justice and stability in India was through the acceptance of British rule.48 They also appear to have concurred on the need to introduce a new style of education to the Muslim community. Sikandar herself supported this idea in Bhopal by establishing the Madrasa-i-Sulaimania, an educational institution that offered the sons of jagirdars, in particular, training in both traditional Islamic subjects and the English language.49 Where the reformist ideas of Sikandar and Sayyid Ahmad Khan clearly parted was on the topic of women. In formulating a response to British rule, Sayyid Ahmad, like other early modernist reformers, created an essential dichotomy between the “outer” world of men, which must accept Western rule and science and progress, and the “inner” world of women, which was ruled by God and must not be changed.50 This ideology resulted in Sayyid Ahmad’s seemingly contradictory policy of accepting Western learning and notions of progress, while remaining opposed to female education beyond the teaching of religious knowledge in the vernacular within the home. Unfortunately, by the time that he was writing, zenana education, as it had existed along these lines, was on the decrease due to the shift of government 22

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funding from vernacular to English education. Suitable private tutors – in other words, elderly men or female teachers (ustanis) – were simply no longer available to teach women in Urdu.51 Regardless, Sayyid Ahmad informed the Education Commission of 1882 that there was no method by which the government could convince “respectable” Muslims to send their girls to school, nor should they attempt to develop “satisfactory education” for females until “a large number of Muhammadan males [have] receive[d] a sound education.”52 Sikandar Begam challenged this position explicitly by founding the Victoria School to provide girls in Bhopal with technical training in female trades and handicrafts, as well as instruction in basic academic subjects and the Qur’an. Interestingly, this school, founded by a Muslim woman for girls of her own and other communities, appears to have long predated similar efforts anywhere else in India or even in the Middle East. Comparable institutions such as the Faizunnessa Girls’ School in East Bengal – established by Faizunnessa Chaudhurai, a wealthy zamindar – or the Suffiyya Girls’ School in Cairo – established by Tcheshme Hanim, the third wife of Khedive Ismail (ruled 1863–79) – did not appear until the 1870s.53 The school was also significant in that it soon confounded Sayyid Ahmad’s expectations of failure by becoming a thriving entity. Evidently, Sikandar had managed to attract large numbers of students by providing financial inducements.54 Of course, the very provision of these inducements implies that the school catered primarily to the type of girls, namely, those of the ajlaf (lower social orders), that were dismissed by Sikandar’s male contemporaries as “prostitutes” and “demons.”55 Her concern for these poor and often vulnerable women only serves to further highlight the distinctiveness of her endeavour. Sayyid Ahmad Khan also believed that Muslim culture could effectively resist being corrupted by both colonialism and Hinduism by insulating the private sphere from the degenerate influences of the public domain. For this, the maintenance of purdah, or seclusion, was critical. It permitted women to remain entirely focussed on household chores and religion, creating an “oasis” of tradition within the home for their menfolk. Veiling was also a symbol of the status of individual Muslims and the cultural integrity of the Muslim community as a whole, distinguishing ashraf Muslims from their less privileged co-religionists, and Indian Muslims in general from their fellow countrymen.56 Though many of his contemporaries in later life (notably, after the death of Sikandar Begam) began to question the strictness of the purdah system, often in response to their Western education, Sayyid Ahmad remained a firm advocate of the practice until his death, asserting, “I consider the purdah which is customary among the Muslim women to be the best we can have.”57 Sikandar’s position on purdah was also in direct contradiction with that of Sayyid Ahmad Khan. At her mother’s encouragement, she never lived in seclusion, nor did she veil her face in any way. Rather, as pictorial evidence 23

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reveals, she wore only a form of head-covering – whether a long scarf or a jewelled turban – accompanied by a cloak or wrap that concealed her bosom (see Figure 1.1). This unusual, but modest attire allowed her to meet with her ministers and tour the state freely, as well as pursue vigorous outdoor activities, like horse riding, tiger shooting and fencing, as was expected of a ruler of Afghan descent. Not surprisingly, her behaviour generated extensive comment from contemporary observers. Take, for instance, LieutenantColonel Willoughby-Osborne, Political Agent in Bhopal during the final years of Sikandar’s reign (1863–9), who remarked in his historical sketch of the ruling dynasty: “The ladies of the Bhopal family do not, as is usual in India among the upper class, cover their faces. They sit in durbar and mix freely with their nobles and others.”58 It is noteworthy that Sikandar upheld her refusal to observe purdah even when her husband, Jahangir Muhammad Khan, sought to force her to do so after their marriage on the basis that it was a “Mohammadan practice.”59 Evidently, the Nawab Begam, unlike Sayyid Ahmad Khan, did not view the strict form of purdah that was prevalent in India as being in-keeping with her religion. Nor did she view Islam as precluding her right, as a woman, to be the ruler of a state.

Figure 1.1 Sikander Begam posing in 1862 with her chief minister, Maulvi Jamaluddin Khan, and army chief, Mattu Khan (OIOC, Photo 355/9(3), by permission of the British Library).

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Further to this point, it should be emphasized that Sikandar was not a secular-minded Muslim who abandoned domestic duties or purdah in deference to a foreign ideal; instead, she was renowned for her piety and service to Islam. Not only did she say her prayers five times a day and live a life of relative simplicity in imitation of the Prophet, but she also had the distinction of being the first Muslim ruler from India, male or female, to make the pilgrimage to Mecca. As noted above, she then described the journey in a published hajj narrative – an act of piety in itself, according to Barbara Metcalf.60 In her text, Sikandar went so far as to criticize the people of Arabia – usually perceived, in the words of Michael Pearson, to be “the source of correct Islamic doctrine and conduct”61 – on the basis that they drank “wine and other intoxicating liquors” strictly prohibited by the Prophet Muhammad and disregarded Islamic laws on cleanliness.62 Still, it was Sikandar’s fulfilment of this fifth tenet of Islam in 1863–4 that her granddaughter credited with having inspired her to make the same journey 40 years later.63 Sultan Jahan also certified that it was Sikandar who was responsible for convincing British officers in 1862 to re-open the Jama Masjid in Delhi, the great mosque built under the patronage of the Mughal emperor, Shah Jahan, after it had been closed as a punishment after the 1857 rebellion.64 Sikandar’s Islamic credentials may also be seen in that, when she was granted the Star of India medal in 1861, she first conferred with the state qazi to confirm that it was acceptable for a Muslim woman to a wear a portrait of the Queen-Empress.65 Clearly, as a reformist model to her granddaughter, Sikandar’s example highlighted the importance of operating within an Islamic framework. It also suggested the appeal of Sayyid Ahmad Khan’s Aligarh school without the more reactionary elements pertaining to female education, veiling and women’s political rights. Before turning from Sikandar, it is also important to note that she influenced Sultan Jahan Begam’s development as a ruler and a reformer, not only by providing advice and example, but also by initiating her education. Her interest in this endeavour is evident from the young Sultan Jahan’s diary, written shortly after her grandmother’s death, in which she notes that her “Nani Sahiba” was so concerned with the matter of her education that there was “not a single moment free” from it.66 As was customary among the elite of the Muslim community, Sultan Jahan’s actual instruction began at the age of four with an elaborate bismillah ceremony to celebrate the child’s initiation into the study of the Qur’an. From that point, she undertook a comprehensive programme of study, which, as she documents in her autobiography, included daily lessons in reading and translating the Qur’an, handwriting, arithmetic, Persian, Pushtu and English, as well as horse riding and fencing.67 Undoubtedly, this exhaustive process of home-training, intended to prepare her for the rigorous demands of statesmanship, would have been unusual for a Muslim girl in India at that time. It was comparable, however, to that imparted to upper-class girls of the same era in Turkey, who learned French, 25

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history and philosophy among other subjects from foreign governesses.68 It may also be compared to that of sharif gentlemen of an earlier generation in India, suggesting that, if girls did get an education at this time, it would be similar to that received by men.69 Certain aspects of Sikandar’s prescribed curriculum deserve further consideration. First of all, it should be noted that the offering of lessons in English to an Indian Muslim girl at this time was particularly extraordinary. The unusualness of this act is evident in that, as Sultan Jahan notes in her autobiography, visiting English gentleman were asked to test her progress as no one else in the state, either male or female, was sufficiently competent in the language to do so.70 The significance can also be seen in that contemporary British observers commented with surprise – and favour – on the heir-apparent’s knowledge of English.71 Evidently, Sikandar, like her contemporary, Sayyid Ahmad Khan, was aware of the need for English education to guarantee that Muslims, and particularly her granddaughter, advanced within the imperial system. Also on the topic of language, it may be questioned why Sultan Jahan was given instruction, not only in the Muslim literary languages of Arabic and Persian, but also in Pushtu. One may assume that these lessons, along with those in horse riding and fencing, were intended to inculcate the young girl with a sense of her Pathan heritage as it was this background that defined, at least to a large degree, the cultural identity of Bhopal’s nobility. It is further suggested that Sikandar aimed to provide Sultan Jahan with language training that would link her to influential forces at the level of both the state and the empire. Another aspect of Sultan Jahan’s education under Sikandar Begam that merits discussion is her choice of instructors. Interestingly, most of them were recruited from among the highly trained cadre of men that advised Sikandar on state affairs. Sultan Jahan’s English teacher, for instance, was Sikandar’s private secretary, Munshi Husein Khan. Similarly, and more importantly in terms of her later activities as a reformist leader, her tutor for translation and interpretation of the Qur’an was Bhopal’s first minister, Maulvi Jamaluddin Khan.72 As noted above, he was a disciple of the descendants of Shah Walliullah, suggesting that he may have been responsible for introducing the future ruler to these early reformist trends within the Indian Muslim community. That he had at least a general impact on her is confirmed by a section in her autobiography in which she records his death in 1881 as the loss of an “old and valued friend.”73 It should also be highlighted that not all of Sultan Jahan’s instructors were Muslims. Her tutor for arithmetic, for example, was a Pandit Ganpat Rai.74 In her memoirs, Sultan Jahan’s granddaughter, Abida Sultaan, notes that, during her youth, members of the Hindu community were employed in the royal household, not only to complete assigned tasks, but also to steep her and her son in the religious traditions of Bhopal’s majority community.75 One can imagine that

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“Guru Ji,” as she called him, fulfilled a similar function for the young Sultan Jahan half a century before. Besides directing her early education, Sikandar also had a direct effect on her granddaughter by choosing the two most influential men in her early life, namely, her father and her husband. The first connection was established in 1855 when Sikandar married her only daughter, Shah Jahan, to the much older Baqi Muhammad Khan, seemingly against the wishes of both bride and groom. Indeed, in his family history of Bhopal, Shaharyar M. Khan records that the potential son-in-law pleaded with the ruling Begam to excuse himself from the marriage on the basis that he was already twice married and, at the age of 32, far too old for the 17-year-old and equally unenthusiastic Shah Jahan.76 Nevertheless, Sikandar proceeded in recognition of the loyal services of three generations of his family to the Bhopal military. The union also fulfilled certain clan considerations as it united the Indian wings of two dominant groupings within the Orakzai tribe from the Tirah valley in Afghanistan: the Mirazi Khail of the ruling family and the Mishti Khail of Baqi Muhammad Khan.77 In arranging the second match, the considerations were slightly different. Unsatisfied with the choice of boys from among families in Bhopal and eager to choose a husband for her beloved granddaughter before she died, Sikandar looked to Jalalabad in the United Provinces to find a suitor that fulfilled her criteria of noble birth and good character. Her choice, Ahmad Ali Khan of the Fatima Khail (a branch of the Mirazi Khail), was then brought with his family to be educated and raised in Bhopal under her care, though it was not until after her death that he and Sultan Jahan were actually married.78 It is interesting to conjecture as to the type of influence that these male relatives had on Sultan Jahan’s intellectual development, particularly within the matriarchal structure of the Bhopal ruling family. As she wrote a biography of her father and included a chapter on him in her autobiography, one may assume that he was some sort of role model for her, even if he did die when she was only nine. The themes that she emphasizes in these writings suggest the aspects of his character that she found admirable: his loyalty to the British, particularly as commander-in-chief of the Bhopal army during the Indian rebellion; his unquestioning dedication to her grandmother (though his relationship with his wife is rarely mentioned); his religiosity, which led him to accompany Sikandar on her pilgrimage to Mecca; and his love of the decorative arts. With regard to this last quality, Sultan Jahan’s comment in Tazkira-i-Baqi that the only thing that her father bequeathed to her on his death was a garden that he had designed himself seems revealing.79 Perhaps her later penchant for laying out gardens, as well as her patronage of other traditional Islamic arts, may be attributed to this source. Interestingly, the only matter on which Sultan Jahan says she was inspired explicitly by her father and her husband was medicine and, more specifically,

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yunani tibb – an indigenous system of medicine originating in a Greco-Arabic tradition, but enriched in the Indian environment through contact with ayurvedic specialists.80 Both men, she noted in her writings, took a “keen interest” in the topic to the point that it was actually at Ahmad Ali Khan’s suggestion that she later established a medical school to train yunani medical practitioners in her state (see Chapter 5).81 Beyond this reference, it is somewhat difficult to ascertain her husband’s effect on her. She did not feel the necessity to write his biography, and he remains a somewhat shadowy figure in her autobiography beyond the expected platitudes about his role as a “helpmate” in the conflict with her mother, as discussed below, and her grief on the occasion of his death.82 Further insight into Sultan Jahan’s relationship with her husband can be ascertained, however, from the more intimate memoirs of Abida Sultaan. In the context of discussing her own marriage, she reports that her grandmother had scars on her back from beatings by her late husband – by that time, dead over 20 years.83 That this antagonism carried over to intellectual considerations is suggested by Abida’s comment that Sultan Jahan had disagreed with the “feudal” type of education that had been arranged for her two elder sons, but had been unable to alter it due to her husband’s disapproval.84 The validity of these words is supported by the ruling Begam’s decision to provide her youngest son, Hamidullah, with a very different type of education after her husband’s death in 1902 (see Chapter 3). Nawab Sikandar Begam herself died in 1868 when Sultan Jahan was just 10 years old. The anguish that she experienced on this occasion is recorded in her autobiography with a sense of poignancy and emotion rarely observed in her writings: My age at the time of her death . . . was 10 years and 7 months, but I feel as plainly as if it were yesterday the grief which fell upon me. Her kindly deeds are ever in my mind, her wise counsels come daily to my aid, and I never cease to offer up prayers for the welfare of her soul.85 These comments provide testimony to the enormous influence that Sikandar had on her granddaughter’s development as a ruler and social reformer, primarily by providing an uncompromising living example. Sikandar was renowned throughout India for the sagacity of her administration, her loyalty to the British, and her benevolence to her subjects – qualities that all guaranteed the continuation of female rule in Bhopal to the time of Sultan Jahan. At the same time, she became a celebrated figure within the Muslim community by contributing to the Islamic arts, patronizing religious scholars from different reformist schools, founding modern educational institutions in her own state, and displaying her personal devotion to Islam. Of course, Sikandar also had a major impact on her granddaughter by choosing the male figures in her early life and ensuring that she received a comprehensive 28

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and innovative education in her formative years that would prepare her for her future roles. In the chapters to come, the extent to which Sultan Jahan was inspired by her professed “ideal” will only become more clear.

Shah Jahan’s mixed legacy Following her grandmother’s death, the young Sultan Jahan moved to live permanently with her mother, Nawab Shah Jahan Begam, with whom she had previously visited just three evenings a week. It seems inconceivable that the new ruling Begam would have been anything but delighted at the return of her daughter to her care at this point, especially as her only other child, Sulaiman Jahan, had died of smallpox at the age of five just two years before. Nevertheless, it is clear from both Sultan Jahan’s diary and her autobiography that, from the outset, her relationship with her mother did not develop to be one of closeness and affection. Perhaps this is best exemplified by comparing letters written to the girl in her youth by her mother and grandmother as they are reproduced in her autobiography. Sikandar’s epistles, sent during her journey to Mecca, are full of endearments, promises of gifts, and kind admonishments about her studies. She addresses her granddaughter as “the fruit of the tree of my heart, the star of my prosperity and good luck.”86 Shah Jahan’s letters, on the other hand, were sent from her office in Bhopal in the form of a written order (parwanah) that detailed arrangements for her education in a cold and official manner.87 Together, they suggest that Shah Jahan simply did not have the fostering influence on her daughter in her childhood that would have lead Sultan Jahan to view her as a role model in her later years. This assertion is confirmed by Sultan Jahan Begam’s comments relating to the educational curriculum prescribed by her mother. Even in her diary, composed when she was just 15 or 16 years old, she remarks with displeasure that her mother did not continue her lessons with the same intensity that they were carried out before her grandmother’s death.88 “In my mother’s eyes,” she notes in her autobiography, “it was much more important that I should acquire experience in domestic and official duties, than that I should progress in scholarly knowledge.”89 As such, the rigorous programme of study discussed above was scaled back to include just three formal lessons a day in English, Persian and the interpretation of the Qur’an, though, notably, they were still pursued with Maulvi Jamaluddin and other highly trained state officials. Beyond these tutorials, Sultan Jahan’s time was dedicated to gaining practical experience of administration by making orders on state papers forwarded to her by her mother. Undoubtedly, this knowledge must have proved vital when Sultan Jahan came to take over the administration of the state herself in 1901. But, at the time, Sultan Jahan viewed the change simply as a failure on the part of her mother to continue the programme of education commenced by her beloved grandmother. 29

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If relations between mother and daughter were less than affectionate in childhood, they were only to deteriorate after Shah Jahan’s marriage to Sayyid Siddiq Hasan, as alluded to above, in 1871. In her autobiography, Sultan Jahan refers to this event as marking the “commencement of one of the unhappiest periods of my life” on the basis that “intrigue became rife in the palace, and every kind of attempt was made to undermine my Mother’s affection for me, which in truth began to lessen day by day.” She refuses to discuss the matter further at that point on the basis that “the story of these days is best left untold.”90 Nevertheless, she makes frequent references throughout the narrative to the growing friction that emerged between her mother and herself, especially after her own marriage to Ahmad Ali Khan in 1874. Characteristic of these remarks is that made in connection with a discussion of the education provided to her eldest daughter, Bilqis Jahan, for whom her mother took full responsibility after her birth in 1875, just as Sultan Jahan’s grandmother had for her: [By the time my daughter was 11 years old] my Mother’s attitude towards me had undergone a complete change, and her disfavour was now as apparent as her favour had been before. No greetings were ever exchanged between us, and the doorway that connected her palace with mine was never opened . . . [Even during Bilqis’ nashra ceremony], I, my husband, and my children remained in our palace as though we had been strangers.91 With Bilqis’ premature death just a year later in 1887, any remaining link between Shah Jahan and Sultan Jahan was broken; mother and daughter had no further personal contact until the ruler was on her deathbed 14 years later. As suggested above, Sultan Jahan Begam placed the blame for her mother’s antipathy towards her squarely on the shoulders of her stepfather, Sayyid Siddiq Hasan. According to her autobiography, he was a scheming vagrant who, though “qualified neither by rank, position, nor character to be the consort of the ruler of a State,” had manipulated Shah Jahan to bestow favour on himself, his family and his friends, rather than her own family.92 Predictably, Shah Jahan Begam herself denied her husband’s role in fostering the feud between her and her daughter, instead claiming that Sultan Jahan, spurred on by her own husband, Ahmad Ali Khan – a man of “despicable character” – had caused the rift by being “disobedient, undutiful and contentious,” not to mention “hardhearted and selfish.”93 What is significant about these depictions is that, though conflicting, they both point to the role played by the Begams’ husbands in prolonging, if not stimulating, the disagreement. It suggests that both Sayyid Siddiq Hasan and Ahmad Ali Khan were ambitious men who, regardless of the familial consequences, sought to elicit maximum material benefit from their union with a powerful wife. 30

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Regardless of the cause, it is clear from these accounts that, by adulthood if not before, the relationship between Sultan Jahan and her mother was one of open antagonism. As such, it seems fair to speculate that, in her own career as a ruler and a reformer, Sultan Jahan would have been more likely to react against Shah Jahan’s advice and example than to follow it. Yet, if the matter of administration is taken first, it may be seen that, initially at least, Shah Jahan Begam followed closely in the reformist model of her revered mother, Nawab Sikandar Begam, providing yet another example of an active administrator to her young daughter. The final section of her history of Bhopal, published in 1876, abounds with lists of improvements that she introduced in the early years of her reign, particularly to the revenue and judicial systems that had fallen into disarray during the final years of her mother’s administration.94 Significantly, her efforts, like those of her mother, soon received the commendation of the British government when she was made a Grand Commander of the Star of India (GCSI) in 1872. On this occasion, the Viceroy informed Shah Jahan that she was being rewarded “on account of [her] hearty labours for the progress of [her] dominions, the redressing of grievances, the advancement of [her] subjects and [her] loyalty to the British government.”95 His comments must have confirmed to the young Sultan Jahan that loyalty to the Crown and an active administration were the key to advancement for princely rulers within the imperial system of paramountcy. Before long, however, it became clear that Shah Jahan Begam had a distinctly different approach to ruling – and, in fact, life in general – than her female predecessors. While Qudsia and Sikandar had been forced by their uncertain political circumstances to learn “masculine” arts, like horse riding and fencing, Shah Jahan was much more interested in the feminine pursuits of cooking, needlework and cleaning. Sultan Jahan Begam records that, even as a young girl, her mother preferred to meet with other girls of her age to discuss “a thousand little points of household duties and of domestic management” than to perform outdoor activities.96 Shah Jahan’s consummate femininity, evident in early portraits (see Figure 1.2), persisted throughout her life according to descriptions of the state and its ruler made during the latter years of her reign. When Lord Landsdowne, the Viceroy, visited the state in 1891, he remarked in a letter to his mother in England that the “little lady,” though 52 years old, was “not disagreeable to look at,” being gracefully attired in trailing green silk “draperies,” while the durbar hall was “bright and pretty,” apparently reflecting the taste of his hostess.97 In terms of administration, Shah Jahan’s feminine demeanour was reflected in that, soon after her second marriage in 1871, she withdrew largely from the public sphere into strict seclusion, leaving ever-increasing responsibility for state business to her new husband. Her changed approach is evident from her conduct during a journey to Calcutta to meet the Prince of Wales (later Edward VII) in 1875. On that occasion, Shah Jahan excused 31

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Figure 1.2 A studio portrait of Shah Jahan Begam, c. 1877 (OIOC, Photo 99/(39), by permission of the British Library).

herself from the honour of actually being received by the Prince and the Viceroy on account of her observance of purdah, instead appointing Siddiq Hasan as her representative. British officials challenged her decision, ultimately convincing her to appear at public functions in a burqa, but her desire to retreat from the limelight cannot be questioned. Significantly, in narrating this incident in her autobiography, Sultan Jahan expressed explicit disagreement with her mother’s position, arguing: The fact of her being purdah [was not] a legitimate excuse [for not waiting on the Prince of Wales in Calcutta], for the laws of Islam do 32

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not prohibit a Musalman lady for appearing at public assemblies in a burkha, nor is there any reason why the ruler of a State should not go abroad clad in this fashion if she wishes to do so.98 This comment suggests, in a point that will be developed in Chapters 2 and 4, that Shah Jahan’s example had the important effect of convincing her daughter – not to abandon purdah altogether, as one may expect – but to prove that a Muslim woman could be an active administrator while still wearing the veil. Concerns about Shah Jahan Begam’s abdication of administrative responsibility to her husband escalated as time progressed to the point that, from 1881, the British government launched a full-scale enquiry into Siddiq Hasan’s influence within the state after confidential reports were received in which it was claimed that he had been compiling and circulating “seditious” works on jihad. To prove his disloyalty, the following extract from his pamphlet, Diwan ul-Khutub ul-Sanat ul-Kamila, published in Bhopal in 1879, was quoted in government files: Know ye that the true “jihad” is to give away our lives and property in the cause of God, and it is the most virtuous of all deeds and the most meritorious of all acts, and it is the pinnacle of the edifice of Islam and one of the most firm institutions of the Chief of mankind.99 Curiously, there was no mention of his other works, like Tarjuman-iWahabiyyat, which were intended to prove the fidelity of members of the Ahl-i-hadith movement. In this work, he had argued, as was typical among reformers of all schools at the time, that Muslims had an obligation to show loyalty to a government that provided security to practise their own religion. He also pointed out that the Bhopal government had demonstrated their allegiance to the British by aiding their forces in Egypt.100 Though Colonel Henry Daly, a sympathetic Agent of the GovernorGeneral (AGG), placated fears of Bhopali disloyalty initially, the situation came to a peak under his successor, Sir Lepel Henry Griffin, when the Nawab-consort persisted in disseminating his publications. Late in 1885, the antagonized imperial government publicly stripped Siddiq Hasan of his titles, salutes, and rank, and reduced Shah Jahan Begam to the status of a figurehead sovereign by appointing a minister to take over Bhopal’s administration. By intervening in the state’s affairs in this way, British officers were fulfilling the government’s aim, first articulated by Lord Mayo in 1870, of ensuring that rulers did not abuse the power that had been granted to them by the Queen’s Proclamation of 1858.101 The incident proved devastating to the ruling Begam’s reputation with the Indian and British public alike. Particularly damaging was a lengthy article in The Times (London) in December 1886 in which sordid details regarding the Begam’s disastrous second 33

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marriage and her fall from grace were revealed.102 For Sultan Jahan, it must have been a stark lesson in the dangers of showing any form of public opposition to the imperial power. Throughout the late 1880s, relations between the ruling Begam and the British government remained poor as concerns about Siddiq Hasan’s interference in state affairs and his connections with “Wahabi agents” continued to arise.103 The rift within the ruling family also became a matter of concern when Shah Jahan made repeated attempts to deny Sultan Jahan the various honours due to the heir-apparent, including access to the income of her jagir, preferential seating at official events, and posts within the government for her family.104 Even the death of Siddiq Hasan in 1890 and the return of Shah Jahan to executive power in 1891 did not diffuse this conflict. Though visiting British officials, including the Viceroys Landsdowne, Elgin, and Curzon, spoke in glowing terms of the Begam’s “enlightenment, prudence and ability,”105 unofficial views of Bhopal’s administration continued to be scathing. In a pamphlet entitled The Reign of Terror in Bhopal State (1894), an author known only by the pseudonym “Zia-ul-Haq” alleged that the Prime Minister, Munshi Imtiaz Ali, along with his officials and noblemen, were guilty of “wholesale bribery, corruption, extortion, murder, oppression, misappropriation, persecution, outrage, and other heinous offenses.”106 This poor publicity must only have encouraged Sultan Jahan Begam to avoid leaving herself open to accusations of maladministration during her own reign. Turning from administration to the arts, it may be seen that Shah Jahan Begam’s distinctive approach was also reflected in Bhopal’s court culture. During her reign, the state came to be renowned, not so much as a Spartan example of good governance as it had been before, but as a flourishing cultural and literary centre. It was at her order that a dictionary of select terms in Hindustani, Persian, Arabic, Sanskrit, English, and Turkish was compiled to facilitate translation of literature between these languages.107 Of particular interest to the third Begam, however, was Urdu and Persian poetry as is evidenced by the substantial state pensions that she offered to the men of letters who gathered at her court, the most distinguished being Amir Minai, author of Amir-i-lughat. Interestingly, she also patronized a circle of female poets. These gifted women included Hasanara Begam “Namkeen,” author of a diwan and two prose publications, Munawwar Jahan Begam and Musharraf Jahan Begam, the daughters of Nawab Mustafa Khan “Shefta,” and several others.108 Indeed, Shah Jahan’s interest in this area was so great that she charged a male poet at her court, Abul Qasim “Muhtasham,” to devote himself to collecting an anthology of female poets writing in Persian. Entitled Akhtar-i-taban, it publicized the work of 81 poetesses when it was printed in Bhopal in 1881 in dedication to the ruling Begam.109 Shah Jahan Begam’s artistic leanings were also evident in that she 34

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composed poems herself under the pen names, “Shirin” and “Tajrur.” Muhtasham himself mentions as many as four diwans of ghazals and rubaiyat composed by his patron, including Sham-i-anjuman, Nigaristan-isukhan, Subh-i-fulshan, and Ruz-i-raushan.110 These efforts, as well as a fifth diwan composed in Hindi, were also praised by her husband, Siddiq Hasan, in his biographical dictionary, Al-taj ul-mukallal, when it was published in 1880.111 Her daughter, however, only attributed two diwans, entitled Taj ul-Kalam and Diwan-i-Shirin, to her, as well as a third volume of poetry, entitled Sadiq ul-Bayan, in which aspects of ancient India, including various festivals and battles, were described.112 The first and last of these works were also mentioned in an article on Shah Jahan Begam’s writings in the Urdu women’s journal, Khatun, composed by a seemingly learned ‘alim, Hafiz Muhammad Islam – though not in a positive way. Indeed, he referred to Taj ul-Kalam as a “worthless piece of art” on the basis that many of the ghazals was dedicated to immoral topics, like infatuated lovers, while others questioned basic religious tenets.113 Sultan Jahan Begam, too, was openly scathing of these literary efforts in her biography of her mother, Hayat-iShahjehani, claiming that she could not have actually written all of the poems as she did not have the time or the patience. She also questioned why Shah Jahan Begam had bothered to write Sadiq ul-Bayan in verse when it would have been much clearer in prose.114 Such comments suggest that the last Begam’s predilection against her mother was at least partially responsible for encouraging her to shun the cultural and literary activities that Shah Jahan had patronized in the model of the Mughal court in Delhi in favour of those intellectual pursuits espoused by the reformers. Like her more famous Mughal namesake, Shah Jahan Begam was also a renowned patron of architecture to the point that, in her biography, Sultan Jahan remarked – seemingly with an undercurrent of disapproval – that her mother built so many large buildings and palaces that it was only possible to mention a few of the main ones. Even from this incomplete list, one can get a sense of the grandiose cultural ambitions that distinguished Shah Jahan Begam from her predecessors and her successor. During her reign, she built three new palaces for her own use – Ali Manzil, Benazir, and Taj Mahal – in which, as Sultan Jahan noted, “money flowed like water in their construction.”115 Each building was accompanied by extensive gardens that were laid out in Mughal and European styles, often as a location for the lavish entertainments organized by the ruling Begam. One such event that reflected both Shah Jahan’s interest in gardens and the changed cultural milieu in the state during her reign was the “Festival of Roses” on which occasion her guests, having dressed in rose-coloured garments, mingled in rose-coloured tents alongside large beds of roses.116 Sultan Jahan made no explicit comment, but one may assume that she reacted against such frivolity in establishing her own frugal style. Perhaps seeking to prove her piety through architectural patronage, Shah 35

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Jahan Begam also contributed to the building and maintenance of innumerable mosques. Primary among them in Bhopal was the Taj ul-Masajid, which, while being based on the design of the Jama Masjid in Delhi, was intended to be the largest mosque in India. Significantly, it remained unfinished during her reign due to a lack of state funds, only being completed after Indian independence with the aid of local philanthropists.117 Equally important at an international level was her patronage of a mosque in England, named after herself, at Woking, Surrey, just outside of London. Founded in 1889 at the encouragement of the Hungarian Orientalist, Dr G.W. Leitner, it thrived as a centre for the local Muslim population until his death in 1899.118 A final architectural contribution of Shah Jahan that should be noted in this context was her effort to wall-in reserved portions of certain mosques in Bhopal so as to allow veiled women to join public prayers on feast days.119 That the pious Sultan Jahan was inspired by these activities on the part of her mother is evident in that, as will be seen in upcoming chapters, she continued to support some of them herself during her own reign. As well as palaces, gardens, and mosques, Shah Jahan Begam also patronized the construction of public buildings and modern engineering works. Perhaps the most novel of these projects was her establishment of a pakka bazaar for the exclusive use of women. Mina bazaars, or women’s markets, had been held once a year during the Nauroz festival at the Mughal court – the Emperor Jahangir apparently having met his beloved Nur Jahan at one in March 1611120 – but the third Begam of Bhopal made them a regular event, thus fostering the economic independence of the poor craftswomen of her dominions. As the market was a popular meeting spot, it also encouraged social interaction by women outside the family unit.121 Again like her Mughal namesake, Shah Jahan was also responsible for building an entirely new neighbourhood of homes and offices within her capital that was predictably named Shahjahanabad. Unlike the version at Delhi, however, it was laid out on a uniform plan in-keeping with the latest ideas of town planning in Britain.122 Sikandar’s earlier plans to connect Bhopal to the national railway network were also fulfilled during Shah Jahan’s reign, first with a connection to Itarsi in 1884, then with a connection to Ujjain in 1897 – though much of the survey and construction work for these lines was funded, not from the state purse, but from the personal income of Qudsia’s private jagir. The railway connection proved extremely important to Bhopal in economic terms in that it placed the state – conveniently located at a midpoint within the subcontinent between east and west, north and south – at the hub of India’s growing trade network.123 These public building projects, as well as those commissioned by the Begam to introduce improved waterworks, trunk roads and canals to Bhopal, reflected an interest in Western science and technology reminiscent of the Aligarh reformer, Sayyid Ahmad Khan – which perhaps accounts for why they were so admired by her daughter. 36

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Moving from architecture to religious patronage, it can be seen that Shah Jahan Begam, like her mother, offered substantial aid and state employment to a large number of Muslim scholars. Probably not surprisingly, the most influential religious figure in Bhopal during her reign was not any of the figures patronized by Sikandar, but instead her own husband, Sayyid Siddiq Hasan. As noted above, he was a leading Ahl-i-hadith scholar, who had been given employment in the state during the reign of Sikandar Begam at the encouragement of Bhopal’s first minister, Maulvi Jamaluddin Khan. Most likely, this eminent scholar had offered his support to the young man on the basis that Siddiq’s father, Sayyid Awlad Hasan, had also been a disciple of Sayyid Ahmad Bareilly and Shah Waliullah’s son, Shah Abdul Aziz (1746– 1824). Other influential factors behind Maulvi Jamaluddin’s patronage would have been that Siddiq Hasan himself had received a comprehensive education in Islamic law, hadith and philosophy at Farrukhabad, Kanpur and later Delhi under the supervision of his father’s reform-minded friends. He was also of noble birth, having descended from a family of jagirdars that had served the Nizams of Hyderabad until the early nineteenth century.124 Much was made by Sultan Jahan Begam of the fact that her stepfather had arrived in Bhopal in 1854 as “an ordinary individual, possessing neither rank nor fame” before rising to the status of ruler of the state through marriage to her mother.125 And, indeed, Siddiq Hasan was in a state of penury upon seeking employment in the state. His poverty was due to his father, Sayyid Awlad, having eschewed any inheritance from the family lands in Hyderabad after his conversion from Shi‘ism to Sunnism under the influence of his scholarly mentors. Siddiq Hasan’s financial status soon improved, however, upon arriving in Bhopal, not so much as a result of his early appointment to a post in the Daftar Tarikh (History Office), but as an effect of his marriage to Maulvi Jamaluddin’s widowed eldest daughter in 1860. From that time, he rose rapidly in the ranks of Bhopal’s civil service under the sponsorship of his esteemed father-in-law until, ultimately, he was appointed personal secretary to the young Nawab Begam herself in the early years of her reign. According to Shah Jahan, this arrangement necessitated that they spend long hours alone together discussing state business and, as such, she decided to follow “the dictates of the Holy Quran and the counsels of English officers” by marrying her former clerk in 1871 in order to put an end to “evil report.”126 There seems little doubt that Shah Jahan Begam was strongly influenced by her husband’s reformist ideas and allegiances. Within a very short time of her ascension to the throne, many of the more liberal Muslim thinkers patronized by her mother, including Maulvi Jamaluddin himself, had been ousted from the Bhopal court in favour of scholars from the Ahl-i-hadith fold. The extent of the shift is evident from Shah Jahan’s own account in Tajul Ikbal,127 as well as the biographical notices of the group. In Abu Yahya Imam Khan Naushaharawi’s Tarajim-i-‘ulama-i-hadith-i-Hind, for example, one can see evidence of the sheer number of Ahl-i-hadith scholars who, 37

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having faced persecution elsewhere, journeyed to the safe haven of Bhopal to be given employment in the state bureaucracy.128 A key example was that of Maulana Salamatullah Jairajpuri, a former student of another leading Ahl-i-hadith figure, Maulana Nazir Husain, who, at Siddiq Hasan’s encouragement, moved from north India to Bhopal to become director of the Jama Masjid and supervisor of the state’s madrasas.129 Shah Jahan Begam’s identification with her husband’s sect above all other reformist groupings was also apparent in that, unlike the Nawab of Hyderabad and the Nawab of Rampur, she was not among the major donors to the Muhammadan Anglo-Oriental College at Aligarh either before or after its establishment in 1875.130 Indeed, when Sayyid Ahmad Khan and his deputation visited Bhopal, the Nawab Begam responded unfavourably to his request for a major donation by making only a small contribution to the College Mosque Fund. According to Sultan Jahan, her mother’s frugality with regard to this project was due to the fact that, at the time, she was under the influence of “very conservative Ulema” – namely, Siddiq Hasan and his supporters – who labelled the Aligarh reformer as “an infidel, a renegade and even an atheist!”131 Her daughter’s censure is palpable. Nevertheless, it should be noted that Shah Jahan Begam was by no means the only one to question Sayyid Ahmad’s self-proclaimed leadership of the Indian Muslim community. Urdu newspapers, like Agra Akhbar and Awadh Punch, regularly satirized his aping of Western culture, his collaboration with the British, and his lack of religious training, not to mention his educational schemes.132 As the title of the sect suggests, the primary reformist message of Siddiq Hasan and his fellow Ahl-i-hadith scholars was that the Muslim community should, in order to forge unity, seek guidance only in the Qur’an and the hadith. What this meant in practical terms was that the legitimacy of the four main law schools, on which the Sunni community had relied for legal advice since the ninth century, was denied in favour of placing emphasis on the example provided by the Prophet and his Companions. The Prophet Muhammad was to be emulated both in terms of personality and behaviour, including on the subject of jihad – a matter of especial interest to Siddiq Hasan, as seen above – as well as being treated as an object of love and devotion. Yet, at the same time, his actions were not to be interpreted symbolically in the way of Sufi mystics. Rather, a single, unambiguous meaning was to be derived from the basic texts in a way that limited the role of qiyas (analogy) and ijma‘ (consensus) in the making of law. Not surprisingly, this radical stance combined with their confrontational style brought the Ahl-i-hadith into conflict, not only with the British government, but also with other schools of Islam.133 Despite their disagreements, the Ahl-i-hadith shared with other reformist schools the belief that Islam needed to be purified of those cultural accretions that left it open to criticism by non-Muslims. Like scholars of Aligarh 38

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and Deoband, Sayyid Siddiq Hasan targeted in his writings those ceremonies that had developed in connection with the shrines of saints and pirs, including ‘urs, the celebration of a saint’s death anniversary, and qawwali, the singing with musical accompaniment at Sufi devotional exercises, but he also went a step further in decrying institutional forms of Sufism. Though he claimed to be a Naqshbandi, he denied the validity of the special relationship between a shaikh and his followers (rabitah). He also renounced the practice of speculating on God’s existence and claimed that Sufism was a matter of purely private concern.134 That Shah Jahan was sympathetic to her husband’s views on this subject is evident from her description in Taj-ul Ikbal of visits to the shrines of Nizamuddin Auliya in Delhi and Khwaja Muinuddin Chishti in Ajmer in which she remarked with obvious disapproval that “contrary to the true faith, [the attendants] pray excessively to the departed and disturb the saint’s soul thereby.”135 Another aim of the Ahl-i-hadith that was shared with scholars from Aligarh and Deoband was family reform by which lavish ceremonies celebrated in connection with births, deaths, and marriages were to be simplified in line with those practised by the Prophet and his family. It is clear that Siddiq Hasan’s influence on Bhopal’s ruling family with regard to this matter was substantial. Sultan Jahan records in her autobiography that, shortly before Shah Jahan’s second marriage, her own nashra, a ceremony to mark a child’s completion of reading the Qur’an, was performed on a “grand and liberal scale” with European and Indian guests being invited from across India to attend extravagant entertainments in Bhopal that continued for an entire month.136 After her mother’s marriage to the Ahl-i-hadith reformer, however, such elaborate celebrations were brought to a halt. Shah Jahan did not, for example, hold the customary chatti ceremony on the occasion of Bilqis Jahan’s birth in 1875, nor did she fire the traditional number of cannons to mark the birth of her daughter’s second child (and first son), Nasrullah, the following year. In fact, even when Sultan Jahan Begam herself organized a small gathering to celebrate Nasrullah’s ‘aqiqa (naming) ceremony, it was forced to disperse “by order of the Begam.”137 According to Sultan Jahan Begam, these customary activities were curtailed, not on her mother’s account, but on the basis that Siddiq Hasan, “who was learned in such matters, was opposed to [their] performance,” suggesting that he had convinced his wife, in line with his reformist beliefs, that “such ceremonies were not sanctioned by the Muhammadan religion.”138 Shah Jahan’s turnaround is not surprising if one considers that she had, according to Siddiq Hasan’s biographical dictionary, undertaken formal religious study with him, in particular of Tabrizi’s Mishkat ul-masabih and al-Hasan alSaghani al-Lahoril’s Mashariq ul-anwar – two collections of hadith that were, in the words of Annemarie Schimmel, “the spiritual staplefood for Indian Muslims,” the first having been translated into Persian in the eighteenth century by Shah Waliullah, making it the preferred collection for 39

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study at later madrasas, like Deoband and Farangi Mahall, while the latter was the first work on hadith by an Indian Muslim scholar.139 Regardless, Siddiq Hasan’s killjoy tactics did not make him – or his views – popular with other members of Bhopal’s ruling family. Sultan Jahan herself refers to his objections as “specious arguments” intended to curtail the expenditure of state funds on matters unconnected with him, his family or his associates.140 Accordingly, she reinstated festivities connected with the ‘aqiqa ceremony – in accordance with “old custom,” according to her autobiography – when her first grandchild, Birjis Jahan Begam, was born to her second son, Obaidullah Khan, in the early years of her own reign.141 As discussed in Chapter 3, she also celebrated the nashra of her favourite granddaughters, Abida and Sajida, with princely generosity in the early 1920s. These remarks and actions intimate the degree to which Sultan Jahan’s own views as a reformer were limited by her personal enmity towards her stepfather. Sultan Jahan’s intransigence when it came to Siddiq Hasan in particular is confirmed by her reactionary response to the marriage agreement that he drew up for her husband upon their union in 1874. In it, Ahmad Ali Khan guaranteed that he would not interfere with his wife’s administration of the state, her jagir or any other financial matter. He also forfeited his right to change his religion, take a second wife or intervene in the marriage arrangements of their children. Her mahr was also set a level such that, if he faltered in his payments, he would lose his own jagir. If he failed in any of his other responsibilities or proved to be simply disagreeable, Shah Jahan Begam, as ruler of the state, was given the authority to dissolve the marriage without recourse to “public proceedings.”142 This document was truly groundbreaking in that it provided Sultan Jahan with rights beyond Islamic law and far in excess of Indian custom. Yet she derided it in her autobiography on the basis that it was merely “an illustration of the skilful attempts made by Sidik Hasan Khan to obtain a hold over my husband.”143 Surely, her loathing for her stepfather had overcome her capacity for rational judgement. Another aspect of the Ahl-i-hadith’s programme of family reform that had particular impact on the Bhopal royal family was that of widow remarriage. Not only did Shah Jahan Begam herself take Siddiq Hasan as a second husband, but she also defended her decision explicitly in Taj-ul Ikbal in terms highly reminiscent of his own writings: . . . the Muslims of India have abandoned the custom [of widow remarriage], which is looked up as strange, and the prejudice of the Hindus against the remarriage of widows has become firmly rooted in their minds also, although it is contrary to common sense, to the religion of the Mohammedans, and opposed to English law.144 Her stance was objected to bitterly by other members of the ruling family, especially her grandmother, Qudsia Begam, and her daughter, Sultan Jahan 40

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Begam. In discussing the matter in her autobiography, the latter admitted that the practice was “contrary neither to Muhammadan custom nor to the Muhammadan religion,” but, nevertheless, maintained that it was a “heinous sin” on the basis that it went against the “custom of the Afghans” as it was practised by the Muslims of India – including “those whose ideas had been modified by Western education.” “It was only natural,” she maintained, “that [they] should support the traditions of [their] family and race.”145 Once again, Sultan Jahan’s reformist stance appeared to be formed in opposition to her mother’s example. Sultan Jahan was not, however, in disagreement with all of Shah Jahan’s reformist initiatives. On the contrary, she hailed her mother’s efforts in the sphere of education, documenting them in some detail in her own writings. Specifically, she noted that, during Shah Jahan’s reign, Madrasa-i-Sulaimania rose to the status of a high school and was affiliated with Calcutta University, even though it remained “ill-managed and ill-attended” due to the prejudice against “new learning and new methods.”146 Impressed by the achievements of the Victoria School, the third Begam also opened another girls’ school where lessons were given in embroidery and other needlework, as well as founding a school for orphans, a technical school for boys, and several schools for the study of “oriental” languages, the most acclaimed being the Madrasa-i-Jahangiria. Teachers and supervisors were also appointed to establish village schools in order to spread the benefits of education to the countryside. Finally, the Nawab Begam promoted education in the state by offering generous scholarships and issuing a declaration in which it was announced that all government employees would be required to hold a certificate from a school or college.147 These educational initiatives brought Bhopal closer to the standard of more advanced princely states, like neighbouring Gwalior, that had promoted similar schemes earlier in the century.148 Equally impressive in Sultan Jahan Begam’s eyes were her mother’s medical reforms. As well as appointing native hakims to each district to treat villagers, Shah Jahan hired several European physicians to set up dispensaries throughout the state, making Bhopal the first state in the Central India Agency to introduce European medicine. She also formed a special department to encourage vaccination against smallpox, organized a leper hospital at Sehore, and established a well-equipped hospital named after the Prince of Wales in Bhopal city.149 In order to commemorate the visit of Lord and Lady Landsdowne to the state in 1891, a purdah women’s hospital was also opened that was placed under the control of a qualified European “lady doctor,” as they were known. To open an institution of this type in the late nineteenth century must have been a highly innovative move for an Indian princely ruler, especially if one considers that the Methodist Mission in Bareilly had only founded the first zenana hospital in India in 1875.150 Improvements were added to the Bhopal hospital throughout the decade in 41

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the form of a class for the training of midwives, modern equipment and several new wings. As Sultan Jahan Begam recorded proudly, these arrangements made for the treatment of women received the commendations of the Lady Dufferin Fund when inspectors were sent to the state in 1895.151 Also important to Sultan Jahan was her mother’s reformist writing, specifically Tahzib un-Niswan wa Tarbiyat ul-Insan (The Reform of Women and the Cultivation of Humanity), a 475-page manual for women first published in 1889. It was written in a simple style that made it accessible to most Urduspeaking women, and, as a result, it was extremely popular and reprinted several times. Considered the first women’s encyclopaedia in India, this volume covered a wide variety of topics relating to women’s work in the household and their status in Islam – to the point that the staid ‘alim introduced above, Hafiz Muhammad Islam, deemed it to be sufficient in terms of providing a Muslim woman with religious and worldly knowledge.152 In this way, it may be compared with Maulana Ashraf Ali Thanawi’s own manual for the reform of Muslim women, Bihishti Zewar, written at the beginning of the twentieth century – in which it, unlike Nazir Ahmad’s novels, was recommended. Unlike Thanawi’s work, however, Tahzib un-Niswan did not stress women’s subordinate place within the family, but rather attempted to give them some control over their own lives by teaching them about pregnancy, childrearing, and hygiene, as well as marriage, divorce, and other ceremonies within Islam. It also provided simple remedies for common illnesses, offered advice on dressmaking and cookery, suggested decorating techniques for the home, and even provided instruction on jewellery making and needlework.153 Sultan Jahan Begam’s response was unequivocal: “This book deserves to be read and acted upon by all women who can read and write Urdu.”154 Her statement suggests, along with those examples provided above, that Shah Jahan Begam did act as a positive role model to her daughter when it came to modernist reforms and the patronage of religious monuments, despite her preference for the lavish cultural style of the former Mughals in Delhi, her disastrous dispute with the paramount power, and her personal connections with the Ahl-i-hadith.

Inheritances Shah Jahan Begam died in June 1901, just months after that other great female monarch of the British Empire, Queen Victoria. Shortly after, Sultan Jahan Begam was crowned ruler of Bhopal in her own right, acceding to the throne at the mature age of 43 years. Her intention was to counter her mother’s example by governing as an absolute ruler from behind the purdah, though with the able assistance of her husband, Ahmad Ali Khan. This latter aim was dashed, however, when he died unexpectedly just six months later in December 1901. Significantly, the loss of her mother and husband proved to be a turning point in Sultan Jahan Begam’s career as a writer and reformer. 42

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Freed from the constraints of patriarchal and matriarchal control, she entered a period of literary flowering comparable to that of other widowed female authors, including Rokeya Sakhawat Hossain in Bengal.155 Of course, another decisive factor behind this flowering was her liberation from the duties of motherhood. Between 1875 and 1894, Sultan Jahan had borne and, for the most part, raised five children – Bilqis, Nasrullah, Obaidullah, Asif, and Hamidullah; the two girls died prematurely and the two eldest boys were married in 1902, with the effect that, by the early twentieth century, there was only “little Hamid” left to demand her attention.156 As she embarked on this new career as a ruler and reformer, Sultan Jahan Begam was clearly influenced by her female predecessors in Bhopal, as they had provided a very different kind of role model to those available to other Muslim women in the late nineteenth century. Qudsia had ensured that Bhopal’s women would exercise the duties of state themselves by abandoning purdah and proving her adeptness at diplomacy and the arts of war, while Sikandar had followed in her footsteps, distinguishing herself as an astute administrator who was representative of the climate of reformism in India in the nineteenth century. She had also shaped the young Sultan Jahan directly by providing her with the essentials of her education and choosing her husband. Only Shah Jahan had countered prevailing trends in the state by espousing traditional Perso-Islamic culture, eschewing active administration, withdrawing behind the veil, conflicting with the British overlord, and favouring her husband’s Ahl-i-hadith tenets. Yet she had also inspired her daughter by making impressive contributions to health, education, technology, and women’s uplift. Whatever their distinctive characteristics, none of the Begams of Bhopal could be said to be in the model of Nazir Ahmad’s Asghari or Hali’s Zubaida Khatun. The state that Sultan Jahan inherited was, naturally, a composite creation of the Nawabs, female and male, that had come before her. On the whole, they had proved themselves, as has been seen in the cases of Qudsia, Sikandar, and Shah Jahan, to be conscientious administrators, belying the familiar portrayal of the princes of India as “unremitting despots.”157 Unfortunately, Bhopal in 1901 also suffered from the maladies of the latter years of Shah Jahan’s reign. Aged and ill with cancer, she had left the administration to a series of ministers under whom the state had become renowned for corruption and indebtedness. As Sultan Jahan described upon her accession to the throne: “Dishonesty was rife, and the fear of punishment was so completely gone, that frauds were committed in broad daylight.”158 It is notable that the spate of famines that had struck central India between 1896 and 1901 had also proved devastating to the people of Bhopal, resulting in the deaths of approximately 30 per cent of the population and the desertion of nearly onethird of the arable land.159 What the new Begam of Bhopal would do with this state over which she became ruler in terms of the mechanics of her administration will be discussed in the chapter that follows. 43

2 STATE AND SOCIETY

When Shah Jahan Begam died in 1901, British officers in the Central India Agency had every intention of using the hiatus to infiltrate Bhopal’s sovereignty. As the Agent of the Governor-General (AGG), C.S. Bayley, noted in his internal correspondence, Bhopal had been “unfortunate” in that it had never had a minority government during which the Government of India could interfere to “overhaul the administration.”1 Now was their chance. His desire to intercede was in-keeping with Curzon’s interventionist policy. During his viceroyalty between 1898 and 1905, the autonomy of the princes was chipped away systematically until as many as 63 states had some form of temporary British control, while many others were under comprehensive restrictions.2 The new ruler, Sultan Jahan Begam, was not, however, willing to let this scenario run its course. On the contrary, she showed every sign of administering the state herself without the interference of the British Political Agent or the aid of a chief minister. And what is perhaps surprising is that Bayley allowed her to do just that after a visit to Bhopal in 1902 during which he deemed her to have an “intelligent grasp” of state affairs.3 The last Begam of Bhopal’s rule had been established in a form that it would retain, at least in its essentials, for the next quarter of a century. Perhaps the most contentious intervention into the study of Indian princely administration in recent decades has been Nicholas Dirks’ The Hollow Crown in which he used the “little kingdom” of Pudukkottai in south India to look at the transformations that occurred in terms of the relationship between states and society during the colonial period. His main assertion, as the title suggests, is that the “crown” became “hollow,” meaning that, while princely states established during the “old regime” continued to exist, their forms were “frozen” with only the “appearances” being “saved.” The effect was that the Indian princely state came to fulfil Clifford Geertz’s image of the “theatre state,” as developed in the context of nineteenth-century Bali: “a state where ritual has been set apart on a stage with dramatic but ultimately only fictional power for the anonymous audience.”4 Ian Copland, a scholar who has studied Indian princely states on a much bigger canvas, appears to be in agreement, contending in a passage 44

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that is worth quoting at length insofar as it sums up the position of princely states in this study’s designated time period of the early twentieth century: Thirty years of constant imperial surveillance and pressure had sapped much of the energy, much of the raison d’etre, from the old darbari system. Once upon a time the princes had fought to protect their subjects; now any fighting that was necessary was done for them by the Indian Army, leaving them with only the hunting-range to patrol. Once, too, the rulers had exercised total control over their states; but now had to take advice from outsiders. The outer shell remained, complete with all the ceremonial trappings of the “theatre state”; but the life-blood, the inner substance, had long departed.5 Other specialists on the Indian princely states, however, not least Barbara Ramusack and Hira Singh, have objected strenuously to this depiction, arguing that these entities were not mere colonial constructions, but varied and changing political structures at the centre of ongoing negotiations between people, princes, and the paramount power.6 In response to these debates, this chapter will investigate how Sultan Jahan Begam faced the challenge of ruling Bhopal state from her accession to the throne in 1901 until her abdication in 1926, asking a number of important questions relating to the mechanics of her rule. The first set of these queries concerns the Begam’s subjects and her relationship to them: what was the composition of Bhopali society during her reign, specifically in terms of locality, employment, language, and religion, and how did she interact with these various groups? Did her own identity as a sharif Muslim impinge on her ability to treat these people with unanimity? In the second section, I turn to the nature of the Bhopal court, asking, in particular, how the administrative structure of the state contributed to the Begam’s patronage of reformist projects in Bhopal and elsewhere: where did the money come from? And who were her male and female courtiers and advisors, both in terms of groupings within the state and reformist trends in other parts of India? The last set of questions will then explore the Begam’s relations with the British overlord with special reference to her evolving Muslim identity: how did Bhopal fit into the imperial structure? Was the last Begam of Bhopal loyal to the paramount power without falter, as she was so often portrayed, or did certain incidents bring her into conflict with the British in a way that required careful negotiations in terms of the existing power structures? Together, these answers will offer insight into a ruler who played a pivotal role within India’s political and economic system – however different that role might have been from the one played by her ancestors – reasserting the vitality of the institution of kingship in this period in opposition to the image of the “hollow crown.”

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The Begam’s subjects During Sultan Jahan Begam’s reign, the population of Bhopal fluctuated considerably between about 665,000 and 730,000 people, largely on account of the prevalence of plague in the state in 1902–3, 1907, 1913, and 1916. This same factor was said to account for the fact that, within the cramped conditions of the capital, the population dropped rather precipitously from around 77,000 in 1901 to around 45,000 in 1921. These numbers are also useful in pointing to the predominantly rural basis of Bhopali society. Only around one in nine of the Begam’s subjects resided in the city of Bhopal or the towns of Ashta, Berasia, Sehore, or Ichhawar, with the majority residing in one of approximately 3,000 villages where they were, more often than not, employed in the agricultural sector. Indeed, as suggested in the previous chapter and confirmed by the Bhopal Gazetteer, 57 per cent of Bhopalis were “cultivators of the soil” with the main crops being cereals, sugarcane, cotton, vegetables, and spices, though indigo and opium were also grown for export. The second largest group with regard to employment were artisans. They were engaged in a variety of occupations, including cotton weaving, dying and printing, jewellery making, wood and ebony carving, brass and bell metal working, and the preparation of opium. This evidence suggests, in line with Krishnamurty’s conclusions on deindustrialization in Gangetic Bihar, that many traditional handicraft industries remained buoyant in Bhopal state into the early twentieth century, despite the introduction of European goods.7 Only in the last years of the Begam’s reign was larger scale industry and commerce – for instance, an experimental plant for the “extraction of Tannin from Kahva bark and its solidification,” an oil mill, a cotton spinning and weaving mill, a flour mill, an ice factory, and a hydro-electric scheme – fostered through the establishment of the Bhopal Produce Trust.8 With regard to religion, the majority of the Begam’s subjects were, despite the state’s “Muslim” moniker, identified as “Hindu” in the census at approximately 72 per cent of the population. The Muslim community, on the other hand, was just 12 per cent at the state level, though it did consist of 54 per cent of the urban population. This balance reflected the identification of Muslims in the state with government and other high status pursuits, a point that will be developed in the following section. The third largest religious group was described as “Animist,” indicating the substantial population of Dravidian tribal groups in the state, including Gonds and Bhils. Though these groups were being assimilated slowly into mainstream Hindu society during this period, the Begam of Bhopal recognized their separate status, even granting large jagirs to their leaders.9 It may be conjectured that she did so with the aim of limiting the impact of the substantial Hindu majority. Beyond these three main groups, there was also a small number of Zoroastrians, Sikhs, Jews, Jains, and Christians in the state. The last two groups, in particular, maintained a profile far higher than that suggested by their

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numbers on account of their prevalence in government service, trade, and commerce.10 In this context, it is also worth noting that it was a policy of the Bhopal government from the early 1920s to attract an “outside mercantile community,” many of whose members seem to have been drawn from minority religious communities or sects, along with their “outside capital,” with the aim of bringing about a “new era of economic and industrial progress” in the state.11 According to the British census, the linguistic profile of the state in the early twentieth century reflected these religious divisions. While most Bhopalis were described as Hindi speakers of the Malwi or Gondi dialect, as many as 93 per cent in Bhopal city were said to speak Urdu on account of Muslim dominance in urban areas.12 As the spoken form of these two languages was almost indistinguishable (highlighted by the fact that nearly all of the state’s respondents to the 1891 census referred to their mother tongue simply as “Hindustani”13), the distinction was rather immaterial, especially as less than two per cent of Bhopalis were literate and, thus, would not have been able to distinguish between the Arabic script of Urdu and the Devanagari script of Hindi. Nevertheless, it provides evidence of the process of community construction, as it related to language and literature, which was going on in India at this time, though it is not clear in this case if the people of Bhopal were manipulating the census or the census was manipulating them.14 What is apparent is that colonial officers did not relate sex ratios to religious communities in Bhopal in the way that they did language, only noting without comment that the figures were an impressive 1,004 females to 1,000 males in rural areas and 969 females to 1,000 males in urban areas in 1901, though they dropped to 942:1,000 and 861:1,000 for the same constituencies by 1921 – a reflection of the downward trend in other parts of the country. To have recognized these connections – namely, that female infanticide or at least female neglect must have been more prevalent in Muslim-dominated urban areas of Bhopal state – would have negated their “just-so story,” as Veena Oldenburg refers to it, by which female infanticide was a “cultural crime” related to Hindu high-caste pride and dowry.15 Saying that, there was no doubt that the Begam’s subjects were divided within their religious communities on the basis of caste, sect, and clan. The Muslim community, for example, was primarily of the Sunni sect in reflection of the identity of the ruling family, but there was also a small group of Shias, particularly of the Bohra branch.16 According to the census, Muslims in Bhopal, as elsewhere in India, were also subdivided into “castes,” namely, Sayyids, Shaikhs, Pathans, Mughals, Pinjaras, and Behnas.17 Of these, the dominant group on account of the ruling Begam’s ancestry were the Pathans, but, as suggested in the previous chapter, they, too, were divided into clans, including the Mirazi Khail and the Mishti Khail. The memoirs of Sultan Jahan Begam’s granddaughter, Abida Sultaan, suggest that the most powerful group among these clans in terms of society and politics in early 47

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twentieth-century Bhopal were the Mishti Khail or Baqi Khail – as they were sometimes known after Nawab Sikandar Begam’s commander-in-chief and son-in-law, Baqi Muhammad Khan – on account of having remained loyal to Sultan Jahan Begam in the conflict between her and her mother during her time as heir-apparent. The “second tier of influence,” then, was the “the Jalalabadis,” another Pathan family of the Orakzai tribe, but Mirazi Khail clan, that had come to Bhopal from the United Provinces in accompaniment of Sultan Jahan Begam’s husband, Ahmad Ali Khan. During the reign of the last Begam, they were said to have exerted influence on Bhopali society particularly through their women, two of whom – Qaisar Dulhan and Shaharyar Dulhan – were wedded to Sultan Jahan Begam’s two eldest sons, Nasrullah and Obaidullah, through the common Muslim practice of firstcousin marriage (being the daughters of Ahmad Ali Khan’s sister, Chanda Bi). Finally, there were the Barru-kat Pathan families, who, having travelled to Bhopal with the founder, Dost Muhammad Khan, over two centuries earlier, were the “basic stock” of Bhopal’s Muslim gentry.18 Having made these distinctions, a next question to be asked is how Sultan Jahan Begam related to these different religious and social groupings within Bhopali society. This enquiry is especially pertinent in light of characterizations of the early twentieth century as a time when conflicts between Sunnis and Shias, Hindus and Muslims, people and princes became increasingly virulent across India.19 Contrary to this depiction, the Begam of Bhopal was lauded, especially in the first two decades of her reign, by Europeans and Indians alike for her policy of not discriminating between the people of her domain. In particular, it was asserted that, thanks to her leadership, Bhopali Muslims, Hindus and other religious groups continued to live together in the state “like brothers,” even when communal riots broke out in other areas of the country.20 When speaking to the Parsi community in Bhopal in 1916, the Begam herself insisted that the “uniform treatment” of all her subjects, without distinction of class or creed, was a “basic principle” of her good government.21 Of course, it should be noted that, even if grievances had existed, the emergence of a tangible people’s protest would have been tightly constrained in Bhopal, as in other princely states, by the autocratic control of the ruler’s government. Reference is made here to the fact that no private presses existed within state boundaries, so no hostile newspapers could be published; all public organizations required the permission of the durbar, so no inimical parties could be founded; even private gatherings were limited by the law.22 There was simply very little opportunity for public dissension within the state. Saying that, there is evidence that Sultan Jahan Begam was censured for her handling of religious matters on a few occasions. The first came late in 1914 after a sectarian fracas in Bhopal between the Bohras and the dominant Sunni community. Seemingly, a riot had broken out in the capital during which a number of Bohra shops had been looted after religious leaders on 48

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both sides had fomented ill feeling in connection with the war in Turkey. According to Bohra legal representatives, their community had been targeted on account of their antagonism to the Ottoman khalifa and their fierce loyalty to the British government, though one might conjecture that their privileged economic status was also a factor. Either way, they demanded compensation from the durbar, charging that the Bhopal state service, and especially the army, was “rotten to the very core.” 23 The Begam herself agreed to reimburse individual Bohras for their losses and dismiss the responsible administrative officer, but she refused to admit the liability of the state.24 Her offer must have been accepted, as a peaceful settlement was soon reached. A report from 1921 in which it was stated that Bohra industrialists, namely, the firm of Rahmatulla Hajibhoy and Co. of Bombay, had added an oil mill and a cotton mill to their existing manufacturing interests in the state suggests that neither sectarian relations, nor Bohra wealth were irreparably damaged by the incident.25 Nevertheless, relations between Sultan Jahan Begam and her subjects did not remain unproblematic. In the early 1920s, Bhopal was dragged into a communitarian discourse from which it had earlier remained aloof when a spate of articles appeared in Hindi newspapers in British India, including Abhyudaya of Allahabad, Lokmitra of Lucknow and Vertaman of Kanpur, criticizing the Begam of Bhopal’s treatment of her Hindu subjects. Between April 1923 and October 1924, she was accused, variously, of having formed an organization to stop the Bharat Shuddhi Sabha from reconverting Muslims to Hinduism in her state, introducing the Emperor Auranzeb’s tyrannical methods of forcibly converting Hindus to Islam, refusing to sanction a loan of the state band and elephants to the Hindu community for their dussehra procession, banning the erection of new Hindu temples or the establishment of new festivals in her state, allowing a Hindu girl to be abducted and raped by a Muslim gentleman without recourse to justice, initiating widespread cow slaughter for Muslims festivals, and tolerating pigeon shooting in Jain temples.26 As Charu Gupta has pointed out, these attacks appear to have been especially “venomous” on account of the ruling Begam’s femaleness, with Hindu male publicists targeting her as “mad” – to the point that one paper even called upon the Viceroy, Lord Reading, to “send her to a mental hospital for treatment” – on the basis that she was a “Muslim woman who did not conform to norms of Hindu patriarchy.”27 These subtexts were even more apparent in the barrage of press criticism that came from mid-1924 in connection with the Bhopal Apostasy Law. The background to this incident was that, in July 1920, it was announced in the Bhopal Jarida, the state gazette, that a new section was being added to the Penal Code which stated that any person who renounced their faith after embracing Islam would be liable to a punishment consisting of either three years’ imprisonment, or a fine, or both.28 The law did not attract attention in British India until April 1924 when it was published in Tej of Agra, causing, 49

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what the Criminal Investigation Department (CID) referred to, as “local talk.”29 Before very long, it drew, in turn, the interest of Hindu revivalist organizations in the United Provinces and Punjab – the Arya Samaj, for instance, holding a special meeting of all Rawalpindi branches at the end of April at which it was resolved that the “savage law” should be abolished without delay on the basis that it was an infringement on “all sense of justice, morality and liberty of conscience.”30 So as to publicize their cause, the resolution was then sent to the Political Secretary and all Arya Pratinidhi Sabhas and Hindu Sabhas, as well as the Indian and foreign press. On the following day, the Hindu Sabha met in Delhi before an audience of about 2,000 people with the main speaker, Swami Satya Dev, criticizing the administration of Bhopal state on the basis that it stood in the way of swaraj by not allowing “religious freedom.” A resolution was then passed protesting against the law and calling the attention of both the Indian National Congress and the Hindu Mahasabha to the injustice.31 The assault on Bhopal’s government continued in the press when an “open letter” to the Begam of Bhopal was published in the Calcutta Servant in mid-May 1924. Written by a Pandit Sankernath, it asserted: [For] a long time we have been entertaining the belief that your Highness is one of the most advanced and enlightened rulers of the Native States of India . . . [Yet] lately the law of Apostasy has been passed by your Highness . . . I entertain great doubts whether this lawless and barbarous law has been passed under your Highness’ cognizance or not. Most probably some of your zealous underlings got the law passed by some unfair means. Be it what it may an enlightened ruler ought never to be partisan or entertain a party feeling for any particular faith or sect . . . your Highness ought to repeal such a lawless law at once . . .32 Sankernath’s secularist view of the state was far from typical of those who had previously criticized the Begam, but it had a similar effect. Within weeks, further resolutions had been passed by Hindu revivalist organizations across India, condemning the Begam’s order and branding her as “totally mad.”33 Even Gandhi, who was usually fairly well-disposed to the durbar in this period, criticized the order in Young India, arguing that, as the law advocated compulsion, it must be against the spirit of Islam.34 So, what had changed in the early 1920s to cause such virulent attacks on the Bhopal government to appear in newspapers across India? Undoubtedly, some explanation needs to be found in the Begam’s own policies in that she did introduce a number of projects in this period that aggravated the sentiments of her Hindu subjects. In 1920, to take one example, the Bhopal Produce Trust, the commercial venture of the Bhopal government mentioned above, became involved with a large-scale cow-slaughter project. When representatives of the local Hindu population expressed their ardent 50

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opposition, they were simply warned that any attempt to stir up trouble would be “severely dealt with” – a statement that underlines the essentially despotic nature of princely administration.35 Communal feeling was further inflamed when the manufacture and sale of country liquor was proscribed in late 1921 and total prohibition introduced to the state in 1923. Reflecting overwhelmingly female support for the temperance movement, women’s groups across India and even abroad hailed the Begam’s efforts as an attempt to improve the material conditions of her people.36 But, to many Bhopali Hindus, the law seemed simply to be a further imposition of Muslim values – especially after the ruling Begam herself acknowledged that she had introduced the legislation so as to bring her administration more closely in line with Islamic tenets.37 Her admission suggests that Muslim sensibilities, heightened in the context of Allied attacks on Turkey during the First World War and the subsequent Khilafat movement, were interfering in her ability to treat her subjects with unanimity. Yet, despite these examples, it would be inappropriate to conclude that the Begam of Bhopal had abandoned her earlier policy of religious tolerance altogether. To have done so would have been thoroughly imprudent in a state where the majority of the population was of a different religion to its ruler. That her style of administration did not actually change much in this period is suggested by a rejoinder to one of the above articles, published in the Urdu daily, Awadh Akhbar, in November 1923. Written by a Bhopali Hindu, Raizada Govind Prasad Verma, it claimed that the dussehra committee’s application to the ruling Begam for the use of the state band and elephants had been rejected, just as an appeal from any Muslim public group would have been, on the basis that they did not wish to pay the required fee. This response, he claimed, rather than being an insult to the Hindu religion, was proof of the equal treatment of the two communities by the Begam. To strengthen his position, Verma quoted several examples of Hindu temples that had been built just a year before, as well as various long-term projects undertaken by the Begam’s government for the good of the Hindu community, including the establishment, curiously, of a Hindu Waqf Department and several religious schools (see Chapter 3). Overall, he affirmed that Sultan Jahan Begam was a tolerant and progressive ruler who never gave way to religious prejudice.38 The appropriateness of his assessment seems to be confirmed by testimonials provided by some of her family and subjects with reference to this period. Abida Sultaan, for instance, records in her memoirs how her grandmother admonished her for identifying a poor woman petitioner by her faith, asserting “in our family we do not distinguish between a Hindu woman and Muslim woman as our subjects, we respect everyone’s religion.”39 Comparison with other princely states is also instructive in seeking to unravel this issue. In the late 1930s, similar charges to those levelled at the Begam of Bhopal were directed at the Nizam of Hyderabad by some of his 51

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Hindu subjects, who claimed that their freedom of worship was being obstructed by laws prohibiting music within 40 steps of any mosque or the building of temples in Muslim-majority areas. In making these assertions, they received the backing of several independent observers, including the French Roman Catholic Bishop of Nagpur, who toured the state in 1939. Yet, as Ian Copland has argued, there is little basis for claims of “systematic ‘Islamic’ oppression” in the state with public displays of religious fervour being prohibited – and the law enforced – for Hindus and Muslims alike. The Nizam’s bi-partisanship in matters of religion was also evident in that he attended both Hindu and Muslim festivals, defended Hindus from accusations of impropriety, and banned both cow slaughter and conversion movements.40 These considerations in the case of Hyderabad suggest that, to a large degree, the Bhopali agitation may also be attributed to increased politicization along religious lines on the part of groups outside the state. This contention is supported by the fact that, on the whole, the above articles – like the one responded to by Verma – do not appear to have been an articulation of sincere grievances, but rather a deliberate distortion of the facts intended to heighten communal tension. The claim that Sultan Jahan Begam had founded an organization to halt the return of Muslims to Hinduism, for instance, appeared to have no connection with her, instead referring, as the CID confirmed, to a speech given in the capital’s Jama Masjid in which Bhopali Muslims were called upon to halt the reclamation of Rajput Muslims in the Agra area to Hinduism by forming an Anjuman-i-Hidayat-i-Islam.41 Similarly, the case regarding the Muslim gentleman who had reportedly abducted and raped a Hindu girl had actually involved a Muslim dhobi’s daughter.42 Even the extensive coverage of the Bhopal Apostasy Law was misrepresentative. As a non-Muslim from Bhopal pointed out in an anonymous letter to United India and Indian States (Madras), the law was not, in fact, new, but had been on the books in different forms since the rule of Sikandar Begam. In order to prevent frequent reconversion for reasons other than spiritual ones, a convert to Islam was required to sign freely an agreement before the qazi stating that, if he should ever change his religion again, he must undergo a penalty. It had nothing to do, the author asserted, with “denying liberty of conscience,” as had been claimed by various Hindu revivalists, but rather with keeping one’s religious “house” in order.43 As Qazi Ali Haidar Abbasi, the political secretary in Bhopal, indicated to alarmed British officials, outsiders were simply trying to stir up trouble.44 In examining external influences for the rising number of press attacks on the Begam of Bhopal in the early 1920s, a second factor may also be identified: a change in Government of India policy. It was noted above how, in 1914, Bohra legal representatives had made a number of charges against the Bhopal state service with regard to the treatment of religious minorities. Yet, despite the seriousness of these accusations, local British officers had 52

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dismissed the claims following a short investigation; it was deemed that, as there was no basis for the charges of injustice against the Begam, no further government involvement was necessary.45 This decision reflected the government’s policy of non-interference in princely states, or laissez-faire as it was known, launched by Minto in 1909 to cement princes’ loyalty in a time of constitutional change.46 This policy was abandoned in the early 1920s at the instigation of Reading, the first ennobled commoner to hold the viceroyalty since the 1860s, and his staff in the Political Department, leading to the repeal of the repressive 1910 Press Act that had so effectively protected the princes from the dissemination of damaging news. Though it had been replaced in 1922 after fierce lobbying by the Chamber of Princes, the new law was extremely ineffective, proving nearly impossible to apply in practical situations. As has been seen, it was at this time that contentious articles relating to the administration of the Begam of Bhopal, as well as other princes, began to abound.47 When it became apparent that the British would no longer protect the state from press attacks, the Begam’s youngest son, Nawabzada Hamidullah Khan, in his role as her Chief Secretary, took other steps to reassert Bhopal’s identity as a place of religious freedom. Specifically, Khwaja Kamaluddin, the Imam of the Shah Jahan Mosque in Woking, England, was invited to the state in late October 1924 to give a public lecture on the history of Hindu– Muslim unity in the state and the Qur’anic basis for toleration.48 Hamidullah himself also addressed the crowd, asserting that tolerance was an essential aspect of all religions. The disturbances that were being cultivated in the state were not, he claimed, due to any religious feeling on the part of the agitators, but to a lack of it.49 Unfortunately, his efforts were only partially successful. While there were no further incidents of religious intolerance reported over the remaining two years of Sultan Jahan Begam’s reign, the relationship between Bhopal’s rulers and their subjects had been irreparably damaged. From the late 1920s, state peoples’ organizations, known as the Praja Mandals, began demanding real representation in a democratic government, while Hindu revivalist organizations, including the Arya Samaj and the Hindu Mahasabha, became even more virulent in their attacks on Bhopal’s Muslim leadership.50 New political forces had been unleashed that could not be accommodated within the structures for public life in a princely state. Nevertheless, Bhopal’s ongoing reputation for communal harmony seems to have guaranteed that violence did not engulf the state as it did other areas, even in the tense days that accompanied partition.51

The Begam’s court In order to understand how Sultan Jahan Begam was able to patronize reformist activities in Bhopal and elsewhere, it is necessary to gain some understanding of the administrative structure of her state. As noted already, 53

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she made it her policy from the outset to rule directly without the interference of the British Political Agent or a chief minister. Instead, she created two new ministerial posts: the Nasir ul-Moham, who was in charge of the Judicial Department, and the Moin ul-Moham, who was in charge of the Revenue Department. Her explanation for this change was that there was simply too much work for one officer, but, in light of her condemnation of the “absolute” power of earlier chief ministers in her autobiography, it seems fair to conjecture that it was also intended to prevent challenges to her authority.52 Of the two, the latter was deemed to have the more challenging job on account of the state’s severe financial difficulties in the early years of her reign. Previously inherited posts in the revenue department had to be filled with trained officers, arrears collected, and a settlement imposed on the ryots for the realization of revenue. With regard to this latter point, it is worth noting that the ruling Begam was influenced by Curzon’s land-revenue policy to choose a five-year settlement, deemed more favourable to the ryots, instead of the long-term settlement preferred by her mother, though, when it provide unsuccessful, she went back to a 19-year cycle.53 Within both systems, there was flexibility with large remissions of rents and revenues being sanctioned by the ruler during plague years or when the monsoon was poor – in a favourable contrast to the colonial overlord. Other measures were also introduced to aid Bhopal’s farmers, including agricultural banks to reduce their reliance on moneylenders, cooperative seed depots and the extension of irrigation works.54 Overall, then, we may project that the last Begam of Bhopal followed her grandmother’s advice, as discussed in the last chapter, in treating the “cultivators of the soil” with benevolence. This approach, it should be recognized, was highly pragmatic in light of the primarily agricultural nature of the state. Land revenue was the main source of income for the durbar, consisting of as much as 75 per cent of total receipt in 1907–8, though additional funds did come from income tax (before it was abolished in 1907), house taxes, and excise duties.55 Somewhat ironically in light of the Begam’s reformist stance, a sizeable share of revenue was also realized from taxes on liquor (before prohibition in 1923), opium, and other drugs, including ganja, charas, bhang, and majun, according to the state administrative reports.56 That opium revenue in particular was important to the durbar’s patronage of reformist projects is suggested in a letter of 1912 by the then AGG in Central India to the Foreign Department in connection with the establishment of a girls’ high school in Delhi (see Chapter 3). In that context, the former questioned whether the ruling Begam would be able to support this scheme in the long term, being that “permanent revenues will be impaired before long by the abolition of opium cultivation.”57 In the same letter, he also expressed concern that the scheme not place an “unreasonable burden upon the taxpayers of the State of Bhopal” – highlighting that the Begam’s philanthropy, however well meaning, was contingent on their comparative impoverishment – before recognizing that there appeared to be “no 54

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lack of money” with recent state expenditure, especially in the capital, being described as “large.”58 From this judgement, it may be concluded that the Begam of Bhopal received more than sufficient revenue by taxing Bhopal’s peasantry, merchants, jagirdars, and other social groups to allow her to freely patronize reformist projects in Bhopal and elsewhere. Only occasionally in the 1920s did the durbar refuse to help a petitioning body on the basis that it was “unable to find funds at present,” though this response may have had more to do with the nature of the request than state finances.59 Besides the revenue and judicial departments, Bhopal state under the last Begam also had administrative departments responsible for education, forests, public works, and the military – though, in a reflection of Copland’s observation at the start of this chapter, the last was only really responsible for channelling as much as 17 per cent of the state’s annual budget to the British overlord in return for “protection.”60 Each of these departments was under a minister who, along with the ruling Begam’s three sons, acted as the “Council of State” from 1908. Previous to that time, she had formed a more broadly based advisory council, but, finding that she could not forward “grave and confidential” matters to them, it had been disbanded in a move that reinforced the authoritarian nature of her government within state boundaries. Her personalized style was also evident in that she consulted most state papers herself, as well as undertaking lengthy tours of the districts – of which there were four divided for administrative purposes into 33 perganas – to listen to the grievances of her subjects.61 According to her granddaughter, Sultan Jahan’s palace in Bhopal city was also open to any of her people who wished to speak with her to the point that her audience hall was often filled by a constant stream of villagers wanting to make enquiries, lodge a complaint, or simply deliver a gift in the form of a basket of vegetables.62 Only in 1922 on the occasion of the Prince of Wales’ visit to Bhopal was a new constitution introduced that imitated, at least to a degree, the system of government in British India. Specifically, it instituted an executive and a legislative council that consisted of appointed members from among the ruling family and the Begam’s ministers, as well as eight members to be elected from various constituencies in the state, including the landowners, the occupancy tenants, the trading community, and the residents of Bhopal city. Though it was a very modest step towards democracy, the granting of suffrage in any degree represented a significant concession from one of India’s most autocratic rulers.63 The question remains as to who was appointed to these various administrative posts in Bhopal state. According to Sultan Jahan Begam’s autobiography, she made the crucial and rather sweeping decision soon after she succeeded to the masnad not to hire Bhopalis on the basis that they were “prone to indolence and pleasure-seeking.” She thus brought to an end the system that had been in place at least since the reign of Qudsia by which family service to the durbar and clan dominance shaped the Bhopal state 55

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service. From now on, officers were to be chosen on the grounds of “merit,” rather than “patronage,” with certain professional standards having to be met – usually in terms of having “passed the test of a suitable examination” – before an appointment was made. This, she declared unambiguously, was the only way of “getting rid of the undesirables and [getting] the right stamp of men stepping in.”64 Local British officers expressed their satisfaction with this policy – to the point of agreeing that “honest and educated Bhopalis scarcely exist” – being that it, in the main, fulfilled their idealized notions of an efficient and merit-based bureaucracy.65 Some of the Begam’s earliest attempts at importing talent, however, proved unsuccessful on the basis that the salary offered by the durbar was not deemed sufficient, a point that suggests the comparatively low wages on offer in this princely state, particularly in the early years of her reign when its financial situation was still perilous.66 That the Begam was able to circumvent these pecuniary problems before long in order to fulfil her demand for educated officers is suggested in that many of her top officials – and nearly all of her Directors of Public Instruction and supervisory staff in boys’ schools – were listed in administrative reports from about 1905 with an “MA” after their names, denoting their graduate status.67 By 1916, it was also noted by the then AGG that nearly all of the “higher officials” in the state were “derived from British provinces.”68 When the records are analysed in terms of religious groupings, it becomes apparent that by far the majority of state officers were, as suggested in the previous section, at least nominally Muslim. It was seen in Chapter 1 how Bhopal had, from the nineteenth century, provided employment to north Indian ashraf unwilling or unable to find service with the colonial state, and this migration continued during the reign of the last Begam – especially after the moratorium on hiring Bhopalis – with the ‘ulama of Farangi Mahall and disciples of Maulana Ahmad Riza Khan of Bareilly, for instance, supplying a number of graduates to the state’s institutions.69 Reformist schools established in the late nineteenth century proved an even more fertile recruiting ground for the Bhopal durbar, though, in a reaction against policies set by the Begam’s mother, these employees tended not to adhere to her stepfather’s Ahl-i-hadith views. On the contrary, it was ‘ulama trained at the Dar ul-‘Ulum at Deoband that became more closely connected with the state. In particular, they acted as teachers and examiners for the Madrasa Ahmedia, a theological college in Bhopal city that was affiliated with the seminary at Deoband – the latter even granting sanads to successful candidates.70 One of these figures was Qazi Mohiuddin Khan, a dedicated follower and patron of Maulana Mahmud Hassan – one of Deoband’s “great teachers,” in the judgement of Barbara Metcalf – who later joined the staff of another of Deoband’s offshoots, the Madrasa-i-Shahi in Moradabad.71 Other officers were graduates of Deoband’s sister school, the Mazahir ul-‘Ulum at Saharanpur, a key example being the Begam’s military secretary of many years, Major Abdus Samad Khan, who was a disciple of this institution’s 56

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long-term principal, Maulana Khalil Ahmad.72 From these examples, it may be deduced that many of Bhopal’s officials were part of a network of reformist ‘ulama in the early twentieth century. Also patronized by the Begam – if we look to the opposite end of the broadly accepted scale of Islamic orthodoxy in South Asia – was the controversial proselytizing sect, the Ahmadis. This group was viewed with increasing suspicion by mainstream Muslims in this period – as the fierce campaign against them on the part of the Majlis-i-Ahrar, an organization dominated by Deobandi ‘ulama, attests73 – on the basis that they maintained that Muhammad was not the last Prophet and instead followed a late nineteenth-century Punjabi oracle, Mirza Ghulam Ahmad.74 Nevertheless, upon returning from her first trip to Europe in 1911, Sultan Jahan Begam employed a member of this group, the aforementioned Khwaja Kamaluddin, to resuscitate the neglected mosque patronized by her mother at Woking, Surrey, just outside of London, and establish the Woking Muslim Mission of which she was the primary benefactor – making Khwaja Kamaluddin, in effect, an emissary of the state abroad.75 She also donated additional funds for the publication of his book on the Prophet Muhammad – which, in turn, was dedicated to her youngest son, Hamidullah76 – and brought him to Bhopal, as was noted in the previous section, to give important political speeches. In seeking an explanation for her ongoing support of this figure, it is pertinent to look at doctrinal considerations that saw the Ahmadis divided from 1914 into two sects: the Lahoris, who understated the importance of Mirza Ghulam Ahmad’s role in their movement in order to emphasize their commonality with other Muslims, and the Qadiyanis, who placed great importance on the distinctive Ahmadi view of the Prophet.77 While it was the Qadiyanis that were especially targeted by the Ahrars, it was the Lahoris that ran the mosque and mission in Woking. Sultan Jahan Begam’s recruitment of members of this group as state employees is, thus, not quite so surprising or paradoxical as it may seem initially. By far the most influential group within the Bhopali administration, however, at least by the end of the last Begam’s reign, were graduates of the Muhammadan Anglo-Oriental College at Aligarh. The reform movement associated with this school had, as was seen in the previous chapter, been patronized by the Begam’s grandmother, but rebuffed by her mother, meaning that early graduates from the school were more likely to find employment in British India or other princely states than in Bhopal. Yet soon after Sultan Jahan Begam’s accession, the pattern began to change when, seeking to overhaul the education system in the state, she began replacing teachers appointed during her mother’s reign with new staff that, more often than not, had a degree from Aligarh – a well-known example being the later journalist and politician, Mohamed Ali (1878–1931), who apparently acted as a tutor to the Begam’s youngest son, Hamidullah, before joining the Baroda state service, and then later completed some 57

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literary work for the durbar.78 Officers in other departments were also recruited from this source – for instance, the Begam’s judicial secretary from 1908, Muhammad Hasan Khan79 – but it was not until Hamidullah graduated from the institution in 1916, returning to the state accompanied by many of his friends and other “Old Boys,” that the process really accelerated. Not only was the Nawabzada himself appointed to the new position of Chief Secretary, as noted in the previous section, but several other graduates took up key posts in the government to the point that those “hailing from Aligarh” were described as the “dominant party” in the state council set up under the new constitution in 1922.80 Two worth mentioning on account of the notoriety of their political activities were Dr Abdur Rahman Bijnori, who, having been awarded a BSc from Aligarh (despite being expelled during the student strike in 1907) and a DPhil from Oxford, was employed in the Education Department until his premature death in 1918, and Abdur Rahman Siddiqui, who spent lengthy periods in Bhopal from 1917 into the 1920s completing jobs for Hamidullah.81 In this connection, it should be noted that the ruling Begam also had a number of unofficial advisors who were renowned for their participation in political movements in this period. Perhaps the most frequent of these visitors was Dr M.A. Ansari (1880–1936), the leader of the Red Crescent Mission to Turkey in 1912–13 and a committed Congress activist, who often stayed at the Begam’s palace in Bhopal on the pretence of offering medical care to the ruling family. Described as a “nationalist conscience” by his biographer, Mushirul Hasan, he was dedicated to the causes of Muslim education (being involved in the Muhammadan Educational Conference and the Muslim University movement), the khilafat, and Hindu-Muslim unity – the latter leading him to be at the forefront of efforts to bring together various Muslim groups with the Congress leadership in the 1920s.82 Another medical man treated as an honoured guest by the Bhopal durbar on numerous occasions was Ansari’s close collaborator, Hakim Ajmal Khan (1863–1927), who, as well as being a founding member and president of the All-India Muslim League and an active participant in the Khilafat movement, was also the leading hakim in north India. Not only was he a central figure in the Madrasa-i-tibbiya in Delhi, but he also established the Tibbi Conference in 1906 that was expanded into the All-India Ayurvedic and Tibbia Conference in 1910. As the name of this latter organization alone suggests, these activities need to be seen as closely intertwined with his attempts, in the words of Barbara Metcalf, to “secur[e] Muslim interests in the context of HinduMuslim cooperation.”83 Also committed to this approach was a third, if less frequent visitor to the Begam’s court, Maulana Abul Kalam Azad (1888– 1958), perhaps best known in this period for his pan-Islamic vision, as expressed in his journal, Al-Hilal, and his bid for leadership of the ‘ulama, though he later, too, became a celebrated “nationalist Muslim.”84 Particularly notable about Azad within the context of this study was that 58

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he came to Bhopal specifically to visit his two sisters, Abru Begam and Fatima Begam, both of whom were employed as education officers in the Bhopal state service. Their careers will be charted in the chapters that follow, but what is worth noting here is that, like their famed younger brother, they had spent their early childhood in the Hijaz before moving with their family to Calcutta in 1898, receiving an ‘alim’s education alongside their brothers in Arabic, the Qur’an, hadith, and fiqh, as well as the rational sciences.85 Other educated and unprotected women also came to the state in the hope of escaping prejudice in a conservative society by being granted a stipend or government job, thus highlighting how Bhopal under the Begam came to be seen as a sanctuary for women, regardless of their social or religious background. A useful illustration of this trend is that of the palace nursery staff, colourfully depicted in Abida Sultaan’s memoirs as “The Three Graces.” The first of these women was Zaheda Begam, known as Khala Bi or Khaloo, a hakim’s daughter, literate in Urdu, from the neighbouring state of Partapgarh who, upon being widowed at the age of 22, had trained as a midwife in order to support herself and her family. Yet she had chosen not to stay in her home state, instead coming to Bhopal on the advice of her father, who had described it as a “haven for women” – a place where “women were assured security and a dignified existence.” The second of this trio was Marie Francesca Leitfells, an unmarried German woman who had been convinced to come to the state after acting as nurse to the Bhopal children while the Begam was on a tour of Europe in 1911. The third was Mrs Winifred Sybil Burke, known as Maima, a widowed Irish mother of two who, having studied to the sixth standard and trained as a nurse, had been employed at St George’s Hospital in Bombay before being summoned to Bhopal to provide treatment to Abida’s sick younger sister – and decided not to leave.86 Another important example of this theme was that of the Fyzee sisters – Atiya, Zehra, and Nazli – who, as members of the extended Tyabji clan with the influential lawyer, reformer, and Indian nationalist, Badruddin Tyabji (1844–1905), at its head, had been educated in a public girls’ school in Bombay. Subsequently, they had become some of the first Indian Muslim women to appear in public unveiled, despite Nazli Begam being married into the princely order – to become the Begam of Janjira – with the aim of raising the social status of her newly moneyed family.87 According to Abida Sultaan, it was difficulties in this marriage, alongside a shared interest in female education, that prompted first Nazli Begam, then Zehra and Atiya, to begin spending long periods of time at the Bhopal court, assisting with various women’s events and pursuing literary projects.88 Connected with the latter of these was Atiya’s now infamous friendship with the much elder poet and scholar, Shibli Numani (1857–1914), who, having received a traditional Islamic education, had taught Persian at Aligarh for many years before dedicating himself to a new institution at Lucknow, the Nadwatul ‘Ulama, that was intended to break down divisions between different schools of 59

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Muslim thought.89 Crucially, Sultan Jahan Begam was not only a patron of this “liaison-officer between the traditionally and the modern-educated Indian Muslim,” as Peter Hardy calls him,90 but also a purveyor of his books, in that they appeared in large numbers in lists of recommended reading in the women’s magazine, Zil us-Sultan, that she started in Bhopal.91 The editor of this magazine, Muhammad Amin Zuberi – described by Atiya herself as an “admirer and friend” of Shibli, as well as someone “we knew through Bhopal” – was also responsible for publishing his letters to her and Zehra Begam, first in Zil us-Sultan itself in 1923, then in book form in 1930.92 An intellectual network encompassing both male and female reformers had been formed with Bhopal as a nodal point. It is ironic, then, that it appears to have been the publication of these letters – with the attendant scandal of a possible illicit relationship between the young Atiya and the by then deceased Shibli – that caused the former to be banned from Bhopal by the ruling Begam.93 Unfortunately, her motives cannot be confirmed. But, nevertheless, the incident is useful in providing insight into why the women who lived on Sultan Jahan Begam’s “bounty,” as Lady Reading put it after a visit to the state in 1923, all appeared to be “trembling at her frown.”94 If they did not follow her lead without question, they could find themselves without a patron and, like Atiya, forbidden from even crossing the border into the state. Most women, however, seemed more than willing to work tirelessly for the ruling Begam’s projects and show her unbounded support – Abru Begam even preferring to edit the speeches and writings of her patron rather than privilege her own voice.95 The identities of the extremely learned women that gathered around the personage of the Begam also suggests the admiration – as opposed to just fear – that she garnered from her female contemporaries in the early twentieth century. Consider, to take just one example, the incredibly close, long-term friendship that she shared with the renowned poet, orator, and political leader, Sarojini Naidu, who, as a prominent woman in her own right, hardly needed to act as a sycophant to the ruling Begam. Yet, according to Abida Sultaan, she chose to visit the Bhopal court so often as to always have a suite of rooms kept ready for her in the palace.96 On the occasion of the All-India Women’s Conference in Delhi in 1928, she also took the opportunity to record in a public forum her “affection and devotion” to the by then Dowager Begam, thanking her without apparent affectation for her “kindness” and “gracious friendship” over many years.97 Sultan Jahan Begam’s friendship with Sarojini Naidu also draws attention back to the matter of religious groupings within the Bhopal administration, being that she was not only Hindu herself, but also a great advocate of ending any form of discrimination in public institutions.98 In this connection, a British officer had noted approvingly in a letter written shortly after the last Begam’s accession that she was not “averse to employing Hindus”, with certain high-profile posts in her government, including that of the Director 60

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of Public Instruction, occasionally being filled by a “Pandit.”99 Neither of her two new top posts, however, was filled by a representative of Bhopal’s majority community in the way that the abolished one of diwan, or chief minister, had been before and would be again after her reign.100 Far more numerous in her state service, despite their tiny minority status in the state as a whole, were Christians. This preference for Christian officers had been established at a much earlier date when, as briefly touched on in the previous chapter, the “Bhopal Bourbons” had been appointed as advisors to successive generations of ruling Begams. But it reached new heights in the early twentieth century, with the last Begam regularly procuring Europeans, Eurasians, and Indian Christians – both male and female, as suggested above – to fulfil esteemed positions within the state. Another notable example in light of its apparent association of Europeans with technology was Austin Cook, the long-term chief engineer to the Public Works Department.101 Perhaps the most influential Christian within the government, though, was Dr Joseph Johory, an Indian Quaker who, along with his wife, Katherine, was considered to be at the head of Bhopal’s Christian community.102 His official position was as personal physician to the ruling Begam, but, as she rarely used any medicine other than the indigenous yunani tibb (see Chapter 5), his greater usefulness seemed to come in translating English newspapers and advising on state affairs. Indeed, Abida Sultaan notes in her memoir how this gentle doctor was, as one of only two men outside Sultan Jahan Begam’s immediate family before she appeared unveiled, always by the ruler’s side when she consulted state papers.103 This relationship brings this discussion to a final issue to be to be addressed in relation to the Begam’s court: how exactly she ruled from behind the purdah. As hinted in the previous chapter, she had made it clear soon after coming to the throne that she intended to prove, again in opposition to her mother’s example, that the veil need not be a hindrance to administering a princely state.104 British officers were sceptical, especially in light of her decision to dispose with a chief minister, but any concerns they may have had were answered when she arrived to give confident speeches at formal dinners and state durbars while wearing a voluminous burqa of the Afghan style that disguised the whole body except for the eyes.105 In terms of the everyday workings of her court, she met most of her male ministers and subjects while sitting behind a screen or muslin curtain, while women, including female relatives and subjects, as well as the wives of jagirdars and ministers, had more unfettered access. Consider, as illustration, this passage from Abida Sultaan’s memoirs in which she describes her grandmother’s “open” style of rule: Any unknown and insignificant person could walk in to her palace and talk to her. From early morning, women would start streaming in, sitting, and surrounding her for hours on end . . . Men were a little less privileged 61

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because of purdah. But they too could come without a previous appointment and sit in the audience chamber awaiting her convenience. Sarkar Amman never kept them waiting more than she could help and talked with them from behind a partition. The few from whom she did not observe purdah just walked in, like the women.106 Her description suggests that princely administration in Bhopal, as it enabled, exemplified and inspired the Begam’s reformist ideas, was, most definitely, a product of the proverbial zenana with men, rather than women, operating almost on the periphery of this surprisingly public domain.

The Begam’s overlords Sultan Jahan Begam’s first official point of contact with the Government of India was through a Political Agent who resided at the British cantonment at Sehore, approximately 25 miles from her capital in Bhopal city. During her reign, this post was filled by a series of primarily military officers, who remained in the state for terms ranging from one to seven years. The longest standing was W.S. (Walter Stewart) Davis (d. 1946), a career civil servant who was transferred to Bhopal from the Northwest Frontier in 1912 for the last post before retirement. The affability of his relationship with the ruling Begam is clear from his unpublished memoirs in which he describes the busy round of social engagements, including tiger shooting, yachting, and golfing, that he and his wife, Georgina, enjoyed as guests of the royal family during their time in Bhopal.107 Equally convivial was his successor, Lt-Col. C.E. Luard (1869–1927), who filled the post from 1919 to 1923, also towards the end of his career. He had a long-standing association with Bhopal, having authored the census for Central India since 1901 and the Bhopal State Gazetteer in 1908.108 That his relationship with the ruling Begam remained friendly despite the heightened political atmosphere during the Khilafat movement is suggested in that he completed the English translation of the third volume of her autobiography published in 1927.109 Above the Political Agent in the bureaucratic hierarchy was the Agent to the Governor-General (AGG), residing at the headquarters of the Central India Agency in Indore. With his staff, he oversaw the administration of all of the princely states of the Malwa region, including Bhopal, Gwalior, and Indore, along with several others of smaller size. Like the Political Agents in Bhopal, the AGGs during Sultan Jahan Begam’s reign appear to conform to Ian Copland’s assessment that local British officers were often more welldisposed to their princely clients than the central administration.110 Consider, for instance, the example of (later Sir) Oswald V. Bosanquet (1866–1933), who leaped to the defence of the Begam on numerous occasions between 1914 and 1917 when, as discussed below, she faced charges of disloyalty in connection with the political activities of her youngest son, Hamidullah, and 62

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later, as if in proof of where his sympathies had lain all along, was actually employed by the durbar as Revenue Minister.111 Formally, of course, the AGG in Central India, like his opposite numbers in Rajputana, the Punjab States and other agencies, was responsible to the Political Secretary of the Foreign and Political Department (or, from 1919, the Political Department) of the Government of India in Calcutta, then Delhi. He, in turn, reported to the Viceroy who would, on occasion, communicate directly with individual princes, including the Begam of Bhopal, and, perhaps once during his term, make a ceremonial visit to her state, as did Minto in 1909, Hardinge in 1912, and Reading in 1923. Another way in which Sultan Jahan Begam and her princely compatriots interacted with the upper echelons of the Government of India was through group meetings with the Viceroy and his political officers in the imperial capital. Minto had considered founding a princely advisory council as early as 1908, but it was not until the viceroyalty of Hardinge that certain rulers, including Sultan Jahan Begam, were invited to Delhi for meetings – one in 1913 and another in 1914 – to discuss the matter of the education of princely sons. When Chelmsford succeeded Hardinge as Viceroy in 1916, he decided to follow the advice of a number of prominent princes, as well as his officials in the Political Department, and hold a more formal conference to discuss general matters affecting the princes. Despite the limited nature of the agenda, many leading princes, including the Maharajas of Bikaner and Gwalior and the Begam of Bhopal, eagerly accepted their invitations to the gathering. Chamberlain, the Secretary of State for India, was concerned with disagreements that had been precipitated by the gathering, but Chelmsford and his staff, as well as the princes, were determined to make the Chiefs’ Conference an annual event. Grudgingly, Chamberlain granted approval for a second conference in November 1917, while his more impetuous successor, Edwin Montagu, endorsed a third conference in January 1919 and a fourth in November 1919. As Barbara Ramusack has rightly pointed out, these meetings signified the princes’ move from the “realm of pageantry to that of political negotiation.”112 Notably, Montagu arrived in India to prepare for constitutional reforms just a day after the second conference. During his subsequent tour, he made a special effort to meet with a large number of princes, both in Delhi and in their own states. The Begam of Bhopal was one of only about a dozen rulers, including the Maharajas of Alwar, Gwalior, and Bikaner, whom he visited more than once. In his diary, he expressed his fascination with this small shrouded woman who barely spoke English, yet played such a dynamic role in all-India politics.113 His response contrasted with that of the pre-eminent Indian Muslim prince, the Nizam of Hyderabad, who he found to be arrogant and disagreeable.114 Evidently, Montagu’s regard for Sultan Jahan was reciprocated. In a letter to Davis, the former Political Agent, written after his return to England, she gushed: 63

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. . . it is impossible to deny that, by reason of the splendid work he has done for India, Mr. Montagu has acquired a tremendous hold upon the country. True, he is not liked in some quarters . . . but Princes and people alike have been extremely touched by proofs of his sincere sympathy with the legitimate aspirations of the country . . . no one with a grain of justice and fairness in his composition will deny the value of the constructive work which his imaginative statesmanship has achieved at this time of crisis . . .115 Her admiration for him did not, however, convince her to participate in the princely body that was set up by his reforms. To the contrary, she proclaimed unequivocally in her letter to Davis that she had no intention of being involved with the new institution, as she had “never been enamoured with the idea of the Chamber of Princes.”116 Sultan Jahan Begam’s reasoning for not attending the Chamber of Princes is uncertain, but it appears that she may have been concerned about matters of prestige; excluding herself from the gathering could have been preferable to tarnishing her image by mixing with rulers of inferior status. This motivation seems likely when considering the Begam’s vehement objection to the inclusion of lesser princes, as well as the boycott of the institution by other 19- and 21-gun rulers, including Hyderabad, Baroda, Mysore, and Indore.117 A second explanation may have had its roots in religious rivalry. As a large number of the active princes were Hindu Rajputs, Muslim rulers, along with Maratha chiefs, may have feared that this numerically dominant group would control them. When it was decided to call the Chamber “Narendra Mahal,” a name considered to emerge from Hindu tradition, despite the objections of both the Begam and the Nizam, Muslim princes may have felt that their concerns were justified.118 At a more mundane level, she could also have been influenced by factors such as her lack of facility in English or the distance of her state from the Chamber headquarters in Delhi; as Copland has noted, the majority of rulers active in the Chamber were both fluent in English and within easy travelling distance of the imperial capital by motor car.119 Whatever her concerns, they were not shared by her son and successor, Hamidullah, who, after acceding in 1926, played a vital role in the Chamber, being first elected to the Standing Committee, then acting twice as Chancellor (1931–2, 1944–7).120 Montagu’s description of the Begam of Bhopal also highlights that, as with other males with whom she came in contact, she did not meet these various British officers face-to-face. Instead, she would appear at formal government functions, including imperial durbars, state banquets for visiting dignitaries, and chiefs’ conferences, wearing her Afghan-style burqa. Indeed, it is feature of imperial portraits in this period that the small, shrouded figure of the Begam of Bhopal often appears on the front row (see Figure 2.1). Her maintenance of purdah restrictions also meant that it was more often the 64

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Figure 2.1 The veiled Begam of Bhopal along with the Maharaja of Gwalior, the Maharaja of Indore, and other “Central India Chiefs” at the coronation durbar of King Edward VII, Delhi, 1903 (OIOC, Photo 430/78(56), by permission of the British Library).

wives of British officers, rather than the British officers themselves, who had privileged access to the world of the Begam. In their accounts of visits of the state, both the Countess of Minto and the Marchionness of Reading described how they toured facilities for women in the state and spent time with the ruling Begam in the zenana, while their husbands hunted tigers in the company of her sons.121 Similarly, the wives of Political Agents and AGGs were invited on a regular basis to attend women’s events organized by Sultan Jahan Begam in the state, establishing relationships that were far closer than those achieved by their male relatives in an official capacity.122 In light of these friendly meetings, the ruling Begam’s formal orientation towards the British in India is probably fairly predictable. Upon her accession to the throne in 1901, her first act was to perpetuate Bhopal’s tradition of loyalty as it had been established during the reign of Nazar Muhammad Khan and defended by Sikandar Begam by proclaiming everlasting allegiance and submission to the King, not only for herself and her children, but also for every man and woman in her state and every Muslim in India.123 She reiterated this posture with such steadfast regularity throughout her reign that even her great-grandson comments in his family history on her “fawning obsequiousness.”124 A particularly revealing example of her stance that is worth quoting at length is a speech given during Minto’s visit to the state in November 1909, shortly after the passing of the controversial Indian Councils Bill: 65

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England has won her way to greatness, not by the force of arms, but by her moral strength, and it is this moral strength which compels the admiration and fealty of every right-minded person. It was, indeed, well for India that she came under control of such a power – a control which has given to her people the inestimable gifts of peace, justice and liberty, and which has led to a period of prosperity and progress, the like of which had never before been dreamt of. It is beyond dispute that the vast majority of His Majesty’s Indian subjects, and especially the Muhamadan section of them, gratefully acknowledge the manifold blessings that have accrued to them under British rule, the permanency of which they regard as the only guarantee of their welfare. The disloyalty of the few only serves to emphasise the loyalty of the many.125 This passage confirms that she was in agreement with the stance of Sayyid Ahmad Khan when it came to loyalty. Like him, she felt that an understanding of Islam could only be meaningful if the economic and political interests of the community were served through collaboration with the British government. Muslims, as the recipients of the final revelation, were meant to prosper, not only in the next life, but also on earth.126 The British government fulfilled this expectation by richly rewarding Sultan Jahan Begam, like her grandmother before her, for her constancy. Specifically, she was named Grand Commander of the Indian Empire (GCIE) in 1904, Knight Grand Commander of the Star of India in 1910 (GCSI), Commander of India (CI) in 1911 and Granddame of the British Empire (GBE) in 1917. Only the Nizam of Hyderabad, having been granted the titles of “His Exalted Highness” and “Our Faithful Ally” in recognition of his generous contributions to the British war effort, could surpass these designations.127 Sultan Jahan Begam’s pride in these imperial honours was apparent in that she pinned the medals signifying her rank to the front of her dress or burqa for proud display in all of her formal portraits (see Figure 2.2). But that did not mean that there was never friction between the Begam of Bhopal and the British overlord. On the contrary, there were a number of incidents, particularly from the time of the First World War in connection with Allied attacks on Turkey, the Silk Letters Conspiracy, and the Khilafat Movement, that brought her into conflict with the British government. These occasions are, in a furtherance of arguments made by Francis Robinson, illuminating as to the way Muslim politicians were constrained in this period by political ideas derived from Islamic culture or religious belief itself as constructed in relation to other identities defined by class, gender, region, and family.128 To take just one example, it may be seen that, between 1920 and 1922, Sultan Jahan Begam repeatedly addressed the Political Agent, the AGG in Central India and the Viceroy in letters and interviews on behalf of the worldwide Muslim community, or umma. Specifically, she encouraged the 66

Figure 2.2 Portrait of Sultan Jahan Begam with her imperial honours on display, c. 1920 (OIOC, Mss.Eur.F.182).

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British government to recognize the sanctity of the Hijaz and the khalifa by acting to retain the integrity of the Ottoman Empire. Undoubtedly, her candid epistles reflected her natural sympathy, as a devout Muslim, with the Khilafat cause, as well as her loyalty to the British Crown – she did, after all, preface her remarks with the claim that she wrote to provide service to the Empire.129 To British officers, however, her actions were interpreted as a sure sign that she was joining the non-cooperators. Their concerns seemed justified when the ruling Begam turned a blind eye to political activists, like Gandhi, Shaukat Ali, and Bi Amman, touring the state to give lectures; tolerated a swadeshi company in the state capital despite the discouragement of Luard; and permitted Bhopali subjects who had given “fanatical” speeches in favour of jihad at the Khilafat Workers Conference in Delhi to return to the state without undergoing legal proceedings. Also raising the ire of British officers in Bhopal was the Begam’s willingness to let those Bhopalis who wished to either emigrate to or return from Afghanistan in connection with the hijrat movement – launched in the summer of 1920 after a seemingly favourable comment by Maulana Abdul Bari of Farangi Mahall – to come and go without interference.130 Reading in particular was appalled that the Begam of Bhopal should hold “such advanced views,” encouraging local officers, in a reversal of Minto’s non-interventionist policy, that they should do everything possible to “correct” her perspective.131 Perhaps the greatest affront to British officers, however, was the Begam’s failure to invite the Political Agent to the lavish festivities held in Bhopal in September 1923 to celebrate the peace with Turkey. In light of what had come before, D.P. Blakeway, the recently appointed AGG in Central India, promptly identified the slight, not just as a personal insult to the Political Agent, but as a serious “divergence” of British and Muslim aspirations. To his superiors, he suggested that a “word of caution” be issued to the Begam to remind her that a British representative ought to be invited to events, such as a celebration of the peace with Turkey, in order to highlight the “common purpose” uniting Bhopal and the British. This was deemed necessary to show the Begam that the Government of India was “not indifferent” to what was seen as the growth of extremism in her state. “She will thus,” he concluded, “be afforded an opportunity to pause and think whether her recent policy is in the true interests of her family and the State . . . ”132 The Begam of Bhopal was in line to be admonished, just as the Raja of Mahmudabad had been in 1916, not to meddle in politics if she wished to keep her governmentgranted privileges. The recent treatment of the Maharaja of Nabha, an Akali supporter, who had been removed from the throne under police escort just months before, warned that the consequences could be dire.133 Fortunately for the Begam, Reading eased the situation temporarily by asserting, in reflection of his lawyer’s training, that many of the charges could not be substantiated.134 Shortly after, the agitation in India collapsed when the Turks themselves announced that they had abolished the Khilafat – at which 68

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point Sultan Jahan Begam promptly exhibited her sympathy for the deposed khalifa by sanctioning a lifetime maintenance grant.135 But her confrontational foray into the world of politically charged Islamic universalism was essentially over. It is important to note, however, that the end of the Khilafat movement did not mean the end of conflict between the Begam and the British. Indeed, it was the subsequent Bhopal Succession Dispute that offers perhaps the best indicator of the variations within the system of paramountcy in this period, as well as the way in which the Begam’s understanding of Islam was constructed in relation to her personal circumstances. This divisive issue arose in 1924, when, within just a few months of each other, the Begam’s two eldest sons, Nasrullah and Obaidullah, both died somewhat unexpectedly. Even as the heir-apparent lay on his deathbed, the question of succession was raised by local British officers, who reported rumours that the ruling Begam intended to appoint Hamidullah as the new heir to the throne, in place of her grandson.136 Just days after Nasrullah’s death, she informed the Government of India of her decision to do just that, despite their announcement at the Chiefs’ Conference in 1916 that every succession required their “approval and sanction.”137 Interestingly, the Begam of Bhopal had, on that occasion, rejected this stance along with the Maharaja of Gwalior and other princes, arguing that, unless there were exceptional circumstances, a ruler’s heir had an inherent right to succeed.138 Unable to reach a compromise, the conference passed a resolution that neglected to mention whether government consent was or was not required in succession cases.139 Faced with this very real incident, Sultan Jahan Begam upheld her earlier claim, asserting that treaties negotiated between the state and the paramount power in the early nineteenth century guaranteed the ruler’s right to elect her own successor. She maintained that Hamidullah was the obvious choice on two accounts: first, because, in her interpretation, Muslim inheritance laws favoured the closer relation to the more remote; and, second, because of his superior character, education, and experience. All that was required, she insisted, was the formal “recognition” of her decision by the Viceroy.140 Not unexpectedly, Sir John Thompson, the new Political Secretary, and his underling, K.S. Fitze, were thoroughly unsympathetic to the Begam’s demands. They spoke grandly of upholding the British system of primogeniture, but their primary concern appears to have been Hamidullah himself. As Fitze asked, had he not, during his term as Chief Secretary, made “arrogant and unjustifiable demands” of the British government, created friction with the Political Agent, re-staffed the administration with a “host of minor undesirables” and treated “notorious extremists” as honoured guests of the state?141 Hamidullah’s past was coming back to haunt him. Realizing that she was unlikely to get a favourable response as the situation stood, the Begam began a comprehensive campaign to gain acceptance for Hamidullah’s succession. She hired researchers to find a precedent in her 69

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favour, wrote letters to foreign dignitaries, lobbied influential Muslim and Hindu princes, and even threatened to abdicate. Much of the Urdu and English press came out in favour of her case, asserting that Hamidullah was a distinguished politician with the support of the Bhopali people.142 Prominent Muslim princes, on the other hand, including the Nawabs of Hyderabad and Rampur, were not in agreement, privately informing the Government of India that they did not feel that the Begam’s demands should be countenanced.143 This split of opinion over the interpretation of Islamic law, along with the Begam’s persistence, forced the Political Department to look into the case in more detail. Throughout 1925, they undertook an exhaustive survey of Muslim succession cases, not only in the existing Indian Muslim states, but also in Mughal India and other Muslim states. No decision could be reached either way. In desperation, the Begam went to England in the autumn of 1925 to petition the King-Emperor. Her theatrical performance at Buckingham Palace, which concluded with her fainting in the King’s audience chamber, proved to be the decisive act in her favour.144 In March 1926, after much evidence to the contrary – and, notably, in the same month that Reading issued his unfavourable statement on the constitutional status of the princes – Nawabzada Hamidullah Khan was recognized as heir-apparent of Bhopal. The Bhopal succession case caused a previously unimaginable level of antagonism between Sultan Jahan Begam and the British government. The friendly relations that had been maintained, at least publicly, even at the high point of the Khilafat movement, were severely challenged to the point that not since the reign of Shah Jahan Begam had the situation been so fraught. In the end, the paramount power was forced to back down, providing dramatic proof of the limits to its authority. But it managed to avoid losing face, as Fitze later emphasized in his autobiography, by claiming that the succession dispute had been resolved, not on the basis of the Begam’s own arguments, but as a result of precedents in the first half of the nineteenth century that were not binding in all Muslim succession cases. This qualifying statement enabled officers to assure princes who were not in favour of the decision that they would be permitted to choose between the system of primogeniture and the Muslim law of inheritance should a similar case arise in their own state in the future.145 But, to the Begam, the logic was inconsequential. Violating protocol, she informed the Viceroy by telegram from London just a month after the succession case had been resolved that she was abdicating immediately to her son.146 She also requested, in a case that will be discussed in more detail in Chapter 6, that Hamidullah’s eldest daughter, Abida Sultaan, be recognized officially as heir-apparent, as she had been already in the state. Only when this demand was met did the last Begam, at the age of nearly 70 years old, retire from negotiations with the British overlord as informed by her distinct, yet evolving, Muslim identity.

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Conclusions By the time Sultan Jahan Begam returned from England in 1926, her son had been recognized as ruler and she had taken on the persona of Dowager Begam, though it was not until a formal durbar later in the year that Hamidullah was installed officially as the Nawab of Bhopal – making him the first male to sit on the gaddi in nearly 100 years. The state that he inherited already had some of the tell-tale signs of his own reign on account of his stint as Chief Secretary – notably, a bureaucracy dominated by Aligarh graduates, a semi-consultative body in the form of a legislative council and an economic policy intended to bring large-scale industry to the area.147 But it also retained the distinctive stamp of his mother’s 25-year rule. Not only had she centralized state power in her own hands, but she had also replaced practices that, in her own words, “had found favour during the rule of the Mughal Emperors” with “modern methods,”148 bequeathing Bhopal a substantially revised administrative system, a largely merit-based bureaucracy and a surprisingly cosmopolitan court. Hers was a benevolent autocracy in which she, like her beloved grandmother, acted as every bit the reforming princess on the model of estate-holders in Britain. Under her care, the “humble” Hindu ryot, the Jain merchant, the Christian governess, and the Muslim courtier – whether Barelwi, Deobandi, Ahmadi, or an Aligarh “Old Boy” – were all to coexist and benefit, though definite partialities may be identified within that general policy, highlighting the essentially hierarchical and arbitrary nature of her regime. With the British overlord, she was a canny negotiator, subtly subverting the imperial order by pursuing, on the whole, quietly, but without relent the interests of her family, state, and religious community within the posture of, what Sayyid Ahmad Khan labelled, the “loyal Muhammadan” (see Chapter 1). To dismiss Bhopal under the last Begam, then, as having a “hollow crown” would be to ignore the emotional and financial interdependence between the princess and her people, the key role of the princely state in dispensing patronage through the institutions of court and the process of negotiation between this local ruler and the British overlord that was at the heart of the system of paramountcy. There is no doubt that Sultan Jahan Begam did not fight on horseback as her ancestors had done to defend her territory and subjects, nor did she rule her state without consultation. But, for all the pageantry that accompanied state durbars, viceregal visits and imperial occasions, Bhopal in the early twentieth century was hardly a “theatre state” either – even if the ruling Begam did meet her ministers while sitting behind a curtain. Other Indian princely rulers of this period may have been patrolling their hunting ranges for tigers, arranging lavish wedding ceremonies in honour of their pets, or playing with train sets made of sterling, but Sultan Jahan Begam was adapting the ancient institution of kingship to play a meaningful economic and political role in terms of state and society within

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the constraints of colonialism. Central to this process was her use of the state structure – and the ample funds that it provided her – to facilitate Muslim women’s reform in India in the early twentieth century in terms of her professed interests of education, veiling, health, and women’s rights. As outlined in the introduction, these four themes will be discussed in turn in the chapters that follow.

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After meeting the Begam of Bhopal in Delhi in 1917 to discuss the upcoming legislative reforms, Edwin Montagu, the Secretary of State for India, noted in his diary that she was “frightfully keen on education, and jabbered about nothing else.”1 His remark is revealing of the ruling Begam’s primary preoccupation both in terms of the administration of her own state and Muslim women’s reform in early twentieth-century India. When she and other prominent Muslim women met, whether at formal or informal gatherings in Aligarh, Bhopal, Delhi, or elsewhere, the first thing that they did was to issue statements or pass resolutions in favour of female education. A useful example is that of the inaugural meeting of the All-India Ladies’ Association, held in Bhopal in 1918, at which delegates directed their first three (of 12) resolutions to aspects of this theme, including the provision of grants to girls’ schools, the establishment of model institutions and the development of a “suitable” course of studies.2 By far the majority of reformist articles and tracts published by and for Muslim women in this period were also dedicated to this pressing issue. In Zil us-Sultan, the Urdu women’s journal published in Bhopal, for instance, there were regular contributions justifying the extension of public schooling to girls, commenting on aspects of curriculum, reporting on practices in Europe, and listing appropriate reading for “Muslim daughters.”3 For Sultan Jahan Begam and other Indian Muslim women, female education was a matter of the highest priority. In their studies of Muslim social reform movement in colonial India, Gail Minault, Barbara Metcalf, and others have reflected on this emphasis, highlighting the role of Aligarh modernists and reformist ‘ulama alike in directing attention to women’s education. As in relation to other topics, however, their focus has remained on the production of “suitable literature” for women and the establishment of girls’ schools by male reformers or, at the least, husband and wife partnerships – key examples being Sayyid Mumtaz Ali and Muhammadi Begam, who started the Urdu women’s journal, Tahzib un-Niswan, in Lahore in 1898 and Shaikh Abdullah and Wahid Jahan Begam, who founded the Urdu monthly, Khatun, in 1904 and established the Aligarh Girls’ School in 1906.4 Only in certain regional 73

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studies have women’s own activities been investigated in any depth – a good example being Rokeya Sakhawat Hossain’s establishment of the Sakhawat Memorial Girls’ School in Calcutta in 1911.5 Also overlooked or brushed over – at least until very recently – was the role of Indian princes, male and female, in initiating educational projects.6 Yet contemporary articles in Stridharma, the journal of the Women’s Indian Association, highlighted that reforms often occurred earlier and with more ease in these fiefdoms than elsewhere in India. As was stated in a 1927 issue, “The Indian States are peculiarly fortunate in being able to effect reforms in social and other conditions, unhampered by the ‘neutral’ attitude of the Government, as they are in British India.”7 Women rulers in particular, including the Begam of Bhopal, the Dowager Begam of Janjira, and the Regent Rani of Jasdan, were lauded in it and other publications of the time for providing a lead to the British provinces and other Indian states on female education and other reformist issues.8 This chapter, then, will investigate Sultan Jahan Begam’s espousal of female education with particular reference to three main themes. First of all, it will explore how she and her circle of followers justified girls’ schooling to the Indian Muslim community, questioning the rhetoric used to convince conservatives and modernists alike that they ought to send their daughters to school. Subsumed within this discussion is an enquiry into curriculum, as it was understood to be key to the debate on Muslim girls’ schooling. In the second section, focus will shift to the ruling Begam’s practical efforts to spread female education to ashraf Muslims in particular through the establishment of elite girls’ schools and private tutoring schemes in Bhopal and elsewhere. Specifically, it will ask: what were some of the difficulties faced in initiating this process and how were they overcome? The third section then looks at what seems to have been a fairly unusual development among ashraf Muslims in this period, namely, the patronage of educational institutions for girls outside their class and community, including widows, orphans, and other poor girls. How were these groups prepared to fulfil their duties, not only as wives and mothers of their respective religious communities, but also as essential wage earners within their families? In analysing these developments, this chapter will emphasize the degree to which the Begam of Bhopal was able to introduce unprecedented educational reforms by negotiating with a range of colonial and Islamic models.

Justifying education It was noted in Chapter 1 how male reformers, like Nazir Ahmad and Hali, had used the new print medium to call for female education from the midnineteenth century, claiming that it was, not only enjoined by the Qur’an and early Islamic history, but also a prerequisite to the regeneration of the Muslim community. They championed a basic vernacular education for 74

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women to be imparted at home that would include rudimentary grammar and arithmetic, calligraphy, and domestic management. If girls were provided with this “suitable” training, they would grow up to be better wives, better mothers, and better Muslims, thus able to stem the dislocation occurring within the Muslim family.9 No interest was expressed, as Meera Kosambi has identified, in providing women with an “education geared to self-actualization and independent thinking” as this would have been “potentially subversive of the family’s established authority structure.”10 By the early twentieth century, this debate had moved on to encompass the establishment of girls’ schools, rather than just zenana teaching, but the justification remained largely the same. Even the few women who were starting to write echoed many of the sentiments of their male predecessors, though they also introduced a distinctly feminine sensibility to Urdu literature for women. This trend is reflected in Muhammadi Begam’s novel, Safiya Begam, in which the heroine is, like Nazir Ahmad’s Asghari, educated and competent, but also limited by family duties and moral choices.11 Rokeya Sakhawat Hossain’s utopian fantasy in English, Sultana’s Dream, expressed a more explicitly feminist consciousness when it ridiculed Indian Muslim men for not introducing women to scientific knowledge.12 The colonial state, on the other hand, maintained the position throughout this period that Indian women should be prepared exclusively for marriage.13 Sultan Jahan Begam’s outspoken advocacy of female education was found, not in fictional writings, as in the examples given above, but instead in reformist tracts, speeches, and interviews made throughout her life. In these varying contexts, she employed a series of interlinking arguments that drew on a number of reformist models. Her central tenet, voiced as early as 1903 in an interview with the renowned reformist journal, The Indian Social Reformer, echoed earlier male reformers, like Nazir Ahmad and Hali, in arguing that it was “high time” that an effort was made to provide education to the women of India, and especially Muslim women, since they were generally “unlettered and superstitious.” Those few women who were literate were addicted to reading trashy novels – a proclivity that the Deobandi ‘alim, Maulana Ashraf Ali Thanawi, also rallied against in his advice manual, Bihishti Zewar.14 The Begam, however, went a step further than her male contemporaries, claiming that women’s pivotal role in the religious training of children actually gave precedence to female education. As she wrote in a pamphlet in 1911: “That men have done a great deal for our sex in the matter of education is evident but they have done much more for themselves, forgetting probably that our education was more important that theirs.”15 She reiterated this point in speeches to the Princess of Wales Ladies’ Club in Bhopal and the All-India Muslim Ladies’ Conference in Aligarh, arguing that women were required, even more than men, to understand the true meaning of Islam and act upon it, for it was they who passed Islamic teachings and morals on to their children. To educate Muslim women would 75

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also enable them to know the rights that had been granted to them under Islamic law.16 The Begam’s stance placed her in conflict, first of all, with conservative Muslims who were against any form of modern education. According to her autobiography, it was this group that she came up against most often in her own state: men of the “old school” that looked with suspicion on any education that went beyond “teaching lads to learn by rote the oldest and mouldiest book which their old and mouldy teachers could supply.”17 It also placed her in opposition to certain male reformers, like Sayyid Ahmad Khan, who, as seen in Chapter 1, advocated a modern education for men, while denying it, at least for the present, to women. Sultan Jahan Begam dismissed both positions, claiming that the Muslim community had little choice in the matter now that modern education for men had begun in earnest: the growing imbalance between men and women was hindering the advancement of Muslim civilization as a whole. Her favourite defence of this stance, seemingly borrowed from Nazir Ahmad’s Mir’at ul-‘Arus, was to use an analogy in which men and women were identified with the wheels of a cart: if the two wheels did not move forward at the same pace, then the overall progress of the cart would be curbed.18 Elsewhere, she attributed equal educational opportunities to a passage in the Qur’an in which it was stated that it was obligatory for both sexes to strive “to their fullest potential” to obtain social and cultural knowledge. This directive accounted, according to the Begam, for the large number of highly competent female scholars in Muslim history, a good example being the Prophet’s youngest wife, Aisha.19 By employing primary Islamic sources and early Muslim history in this way, Sultan Jahan Begam was able to buttress her educational platform with a higher authority far more convincing than if she, like male contemporaries in Egypt and Turkey, had relied on secular concepts, like “natural rights.”20 Fear of the new educated woman was also somewhat assuaged by Sultan Jahan Begam’s consistent support for a curriculum that placed the greatest emphasis on religious and moral education. She went so far as to assert that, if a child proceeded on to secular education without the benefit of religious training, the effect would be just like a gardener watering his rose bushes without pruning them: they would grow abundantly, but in all the wrong directions.21 Gardening metaphors were also employed to this end in one of her most popular works, Bagh-i-‘Ajib (Fables of the Magic Garden), in which allegorical stories of plants, vegetables, and flowers were presented in verse and prose to provide moral and religious instruction to young children.22 In making religious education a priority, the ruling Begam appeared to be encouraged by one of her education officers, Abru Begam, who, as sister of the renowned ‘alim and Congressman, Maulana Abul Kalam Azad, drew on a scholarly tradition within Islam when she quoted alarming passages from the Qur’an in Arabic at gatherings of the Muslim Ladies’ Conference to encourage members to abandon sinful behaviour and 76

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promote religious education above all other aims.23 Seemingly, she was advocating a style of education based on the experience of herself and her sister, Fatima Begam, as discussed in chapter two. Her advocacy of a “single standard,” to borrow Metcalf’s phrase, was echoed by her patron when, at a grand meeting of the ladies’ club in Bhopal in 1921, she argued that male and female children alike needed to be made familiar with “every detail” of sacred law as contained in the Qur’an and the sunnah, not least so that they would know that womanhood was to be respected in Islam.24 The inordinate importance attached by the Begam to moral lessons was exhibited most clearly in her own curriculum for Anglo-vernacular girls’ schools, drafted in the late 1910s after educational experts, whom she had deferred to on matters of curriculum in her earlier speeches and writings, failed to take up the task to her satisfaction.25 It was a comprehensive document that defined, not just the subjects to be studied, but also the level to which they should be pursued at the primary, middle, and school-leaving standard – a quality that distinguished it from the publications of other reformers who simply identified “religious instruction” or “the Qur’an” as necessary subjects.26 Indeed, it described in minute detail what moral virtues a girl should imbibe each year, ranging from honesty and courage to prudence and patriotism. The gravity of each subject grew as the girls became older until, in their final year, they were required to learn the highest principles of Sultan Jahan’s moral beliefs, that is the importance of simple living, mental and moral diligence, and “national duty.”27 Notably, this final topic did not refer to a girl’s responsibilities to the Muslim qaum, but, instead, the liberal democratic principles of serving one’s country through such activities as exercising the vote, honouring national emblems and participating in local government – just like those “polite, free-thinking, patriotic, civilized, high-minded and sympathizing” women that the Begam had observed during her first visit to Europe in 1911.28 The inclusion of this subject, especially within the autocratic political context of a princely state, highlights the interaction occurring within the colonial milieu between IndoIslamic and European ideas. It also distinguishes the Begam’s programme from that of male reformers in that she conceived of women as citizens in their own right, not just, as Swapna Banerjee has noted with regard to colonial Bengal, as “nurturers of future citizens.”29 Beyond religious and moral education, Sultan Jahan Begam’s focus was always on producing a “practical result,” an approach that may again have addressed some of the concerns of more conservative members of her community. That did not mean that she had any sympathy whatsoever with the position, widespread at the time, that Muslim girls should only be taught the Qur’an, the rudiments of Urdu and perhaps to write by male members of their family. What they needed instead, she asserted in her autobiography, was a liberal school education that encompassed both religious and secular instruction – with the latter including lessons not only in academic subjects, 77

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but also in household management and other “feminine occupations” that would prepare girls for their future lives as wives and mothers. As she proclaimed in her presidential address to the All-India Women’s Conference in 1928, a girls’ education should enable her to “help man in his struggles, to comfort him in troubles and create a happy home.”30 Further to this point, the Begam argued in a variety of forums that the syllabus prevalent in girls’ schools in India, most of which were run by the colonial government or missionary organizations, was not “suitable” on the basis that it merely reproduced the programme that had been framed for boys.31 That this opinion was shared widely by other Muslim female reformers is evident from the debate on education at the meeting of the All-India Ladies’ Association held in Bhopal in 1918 during which Begam Khadiv Jang, an author and educationalist from Hyderabad who was the daughter of prominent civil servant and Aligarh-associated reformer, Sayyid Husain Bilgrami (Nawab Imad-ul-Mulk), spoke for the majority of women in attendance when she argued that the existing system of female education was flawed because it produced “anaemic bespectacled girl-graduates” instead of “healthy, intelligent women” who were capable of using their education to assist them in their daily lives as wives, mothers, and Muslims.32 At the same time, Begam Khadiv Jang spoke in favour of establishing a women’s college in each province and a women’s university in a central spot in India, a proposal that was highly innovative considering that most Muslims did not yet send their daughters to primary school.33 Her stance may have been a reflection of her own impressive educational career – she was, after all, in 1910, the first Muslim woman to be awarded a BA from Madras University. It may also indicate that higher education was not necessarily equated with training for the professions. Indeed, the Begam of Bhopal herself had admired efforts in the Hindu community to establish a National Women’s University at Poona on the basis that a “suitable” curriculum would be taught.34 Other Muslim women in attendance, however, did express more controversial ideas on education, notably Iqtidar Dulhan, the daughter of Nawab Muhammad Ishaq Khan, the honorary secretary of Aligarh College, who had earlier married into Bhopal’s ruling family. Reading a speech sent from Aligarh, she struck at the exclusivity of the ashraf class of Muslims by arguing that the character of a child was determined, not by heredity, but by the social and educational environment in which the child was raised. For this reason, she maintained that princes and peasants alike, as well as women, should be provided with the same type of education. In order to illustrate man’s selfish condemnation of women to the “drudgery” of household duties, she referred to Indian women as “dolls in dolls’ houses,” seemingly evoking Ibsen’s controversial play, The Doll’s House (1879), just as was later done by nationalist intellectuals across Asia, including Jawaharlal Nehru.35 The time had come, she contended, for women to right this grave injustice, regaining their lost position, by force, if need be.36 78

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This short speech demonstrated in no uncertain terms that a more radical group of Muslim women was emerging from among the younger generation to push forward the debate on women’s education. Yet most recognized at least the strategic importance of offering subjects that reflected women’s customary roles. A key example was that of Rokeya in Bengal who, even as she wrote brave literary works like Sultana’s Dream, designed a curriculum for her school that included sewing, bookkeeping, and home economics.37 Sultan Jahan Begam also retained this domestic focus in her curriculum for Anglo-vernacular girls’ schools, placing sewing, drawing, and callisthenics – associated with improving women’s health so as to better prepare them for childbirth – alongside reading, writing, and arithmetic at the lower levels and geography, history, and a classical language in the higher grades. In the twoyear course for the Girls’ Leaving Certificate, too, academic subjects were included, but they were limited generally to the skills required by the “modern” Indian wife. Courses in arithmetic and vernacular language, for instance, consisted chiefly of bookkeeping and letter-writing. Notably, these topics were also included in Maulana Ashraf Ali Thanawi’s programme for female education in Bihishti Zewar,38 but the rest of the Begam’s curriculum was more explicitly modernist in orientation in that traditional areas of women’s expertise, including sewing and cooking, were expanded into courses that included the etiquette of table manners, the preparation of English food, and the sewing of frocks – in other words, skills that were considered essential in colonial Indian society. In this connection, it is worth noting that Sultan Jahan Begam also sought to reform Muslim women’s kitchens by publishing a cookbook dedicated to the reigning King of England, George V, in which recipes were provided for European dishes, but in the Urdu language.39 As in Egypt at this time, the prestige of home economics was also to be supplemented by endowing it with scientific qualities borrowed from “the West.” This process accounted for the introduction of subjects such as human physiology, home nursing, and “The Cook and the Kitchen,” which intended to wean women away from conventional practices, deemed unhealthy and unsanitary, by providing them with functional medical knowledge. It also led to the inclusion of courses on the basics of child psychology, education, and health with a focus on Montessori’s system for training children at home.40 This programme of learning, developed by the Italian educationalist, Maria Montessori (1870–1952), may have been viewed as somewhat unorthodox in Britain, but it was felt to be in-keeping with Indian values due to its focus on the home and family. It would have sat somewhat uneasily, however, with a madrasa-based system of Islamic education in that it spurned artificial restraints, rigid discipline, and conventional rules in favour of spontaneity.41 Nevertheless, Sultan Jahan went so far as to proclaim in her presidential speech to the All-India Ladies’ Association in 1918, “No one has paid greater attention to the problem of the education of children in present times than 79

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the Italian Countess Madame Montessori.”42 The choice of this system on the part of the Begam of Bhopal, along with the Rani of Sangli and other educationalists, reflects the importance attached by many Indian reformers to remaining within an indigenous framework even when introducing new methods. Another aspect of curriculum intended to respond to the special requirements of Muslim girls was the language of instruction. On the whole, Sultan Jahan was a strong advocate of vernacular education for girls, as opposed to the English education that was advocated for boys. She made this argument on the basis that, as the custom of early marriage dictated that many girls had to leave school at a young age, the difficulties of imparting education in a short time had to be reduced by offering classes in the mother tongue.43 English was, however, promoted as a subject in the higher levels in her draft curriculum, and even as a language of instruction in a speech given at Aligarh Girls’ School on the occasion of the opening of a boarding house in March 1914. In that context, she argued, in an adaptation of an oft-made point, that English education was needed as much by girls as by boys on the basis that they were the first teachers of children.44 That she did not make this argument in other forums suggests that her message was somewhat tailored to the Aligarh audience that was supportive of English education in general terms. Elsewhere, the ruling Begam recognized the difficulties of finding books in Urdu and other Indian languages that could be substituted for English texts, but sought to address the problem by having certain “suitable” texts translated into Urdu – just as history books and other relevant tomes were rendered into vernacular languages for the purpose of male education in the mid-nineteenth century.45 What also emerges from this discussion of language is that the Begam of Bhopal must not have considered Nazir Ahmad’s Mir’at ul-‘Arus, Thanawi’s Bihishti Zewar or any of the other books written by her male predecessors to be appropriate textbooks for her educational purposes, despite significant overlap in terms of their ideas on justifying female education and drafting a curriculum. Some explanation of her policy can be found in her autobiography, in which she asserted that a course of study for Muslim girls could only be formulated – “if it is to be done in a thoroughly satisfactory manner” – by a committee of educated women, on the basis that “the female temperament and character can be understood by women, and by women alone.”46 With this remark, she introduced an element of autonomy to the movement for Muslim women’s education that had simply not been present before that time. She expanded on this theme in her speeches to various male and female gatherings, including those given at Aligarh in 1914 to mark the opening of the girls’ hostel and the inauguration of the Muslim Ladies’ Conference as well as a speech in 1916 on the occasion of the opening of the new headquarters of the Muhammadan Educational Conference. Reflecting her incremental approach, she acknowledged that invaluable work had been 80

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achieved by male supporters of girls’ schooling, such as Shaikh Abdullah, but asserted that female education could not really advance under the direction of men, since they did not understand the importance that needed to be attached to it nor the issues involved. Muslim women were, thus, encouraged to take practical steps to spread education, particularly through the establishment of girls’ schools in their families and neighbourhoods.47 What was actually done under the Begam’s patronage in terms of educating ashraf girls will be discussed in the following section.

Educating ashraf girls By the late nineteenth century, the colonial state and its missionary agents were already providing options for female education in the form of vernacular girls’ schools and private lessons, not only in British India, but also in the princely states. In Bhopal state, too, local officers demonstrated their strong commitment to “native” education by founding well-attended institutions within the Sehore Cantonment, including a school and hostel for boys at the primary and secondary levels and a vernacular school for girls. Opened in 1865, this latter institution offered instruction by Indian Christian and Hindu mistresses to around 80 girls in the “three Rs,” needlework, and the recitation of poetry.48 Also notable were the efforts of Quaker missionaries who, after 1890, established a boys’ school and a girls’ school in the cantonment, as well as a second girls’ school in the qasba. These girls’ schools catered to Hindus and Muslims alike by offering instruction within a purdah environment in Hindi and Urdu, arithmetic, domestic economy, and industrial work, as well as in scripture. From 1901, Quaker women also toured the homes of wealthy families in Sehore and Bhopal city giving lessons to the wives and daughters of the household, a practice commonly known as “zenana visiting.”49 As suggested in the previous section, however, most devout Muslims were reluctant to expose their daughters to institutions of this type on the basis that the curriculum was not considered appropriate for girls, purdah might not be maintained, and secular education could be accompanied by a healthy dose of the Christian religion. The poor quality of teaching may also have been a factor; one education inspector noted in relation to the Sehore Girls’ School in 1913 that one mistress “did not know the meaning of difficult words,” while the other two “had no idea as to how many tens there were in 25.”50 Disregarding these concerns, many young Muslims began vocalizing their desire for educated wives from the 1880s after imbibing ideas of companionate marriage at English-medium colleges such as Aligarh. Though opposition to girls leaving the house for education remained strong, community leaders responded to their calls by founding schools that would provide an alternative to the services offered by the government and the missionaries. In the mid-1880s, the Anjuman-i-Himayat-i-Islam, a social and educational organization in Lahore, started five primary schools for girls in 81

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the old city of Lahore. With the avowed aim of countering the efforts of other religious groups and strengthening Islam from within, they offered a “suitable” curriculum for Muslim girls that included Urdu, Persian, writing, arithmetic, needlework, and, most importantly, the Qur’an. Their efforts were obviously successful, since, by 1894, they had opened 15 schools, each of which was attended by as many as 50 girls. They were constantly plagued, however, as were their successor institutions, by a lack of financial support, trained female teachers, and suitable textbooks.51 Nevertheless, a number of other private efforts were launched by Muslims in British India to bring education to ashraf girls in the early years of the twentieth century. Some of these institutions have been mentioned already, namely, the Aligarh Zenana Madrasa and the Sakhawat Memorial Girls’ School. Other early efforts included the Queen Mary School initiated by Mian Shah Din and Mian Muhammad Shafi in Lahore in 1908, the Muslim Girls’ School founded by Sayyid Karamat Husain in Lucknow in 1912, and the Tarbiyatgah-i-Banat founded by Rashid ul-Khairi in Delhi in the 1920s.52 In princely states, too, there was widespread patronage of male and female education by the early twentieth century. Some evidence has been provided already to support this assertion in the context of nineteenthcentury Bhopal, but it was Hyderabad, the largest and most prominent of the princely states, that was at the forefront of introducing Muslim education. By the late nineteenth century, it boasted several new madrasas, schools and colleges sponsored by the state that offered teaching in both English and Urdu, notably the Madrasa-i-Aliya, the Nizam College, and the Darul Uloom. Also up and running by this time were the Nampalli Girls’ School (later the Women’s College of Osmania University) and a scholarship fund enabling women to study abroad, two efforts that were personally advanced by the Nizam, as was the English-medium Mahbubiya Girls’ School founded in the early years of the twentieth century.53 The Raja of Mahmudabad, known for his involvement with Aligarh, was also a champion of female education, providing financial aid to Sayyid Karamat Husain’s Muslim Girls’ School in Lucknow. The Nawabs of Rampur, Bahawalpur, and Tonk, on the other hand, were patrons of a range of Aligarh institutions and the Anjumani-Himayat-i-Islam, as well as the madrasas at Deoband and Nadwa.54 In this same vein, Sultan Jahan Begam sought to put her ideas into practice in her own state by establishing the Sultania Girls’ School in an annex to her Taj Mahal palace in 1903 – even though, when she held a public meeting in her capital to call for volunteers to send their daughters to her school, there was, according to her autobiography, an “ominous silence” among “certain quarters.”55 The primary concern of those in opposition was the maintenance of adequate purdah arrangements, a problem with which the veiled Begam was certainly sympathetic. Her first response was to supply carefully guarded closed conveyances to transport the girls from home to school and back 82

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again: covered bullock-carts that were dark and airless, causing fear and sickness among their young passengers. Nevertheless, they became an inevitable aspect of Muslim schoolgirls’ daily routine.56 Only in 1917 was an alternative provided with the establishment of a boarding house very similar to that opened by Sultan Jahan Begam at the Aligarh Girls’ School in 1914. As in Aligarh, it was portrayed as strengthening purdah restrictions, as well as improving standards of punctuality, obedience, and cleanliness among girl pupils within the framework of an extended family; Mrs G. Baksh, headmistress of Sultania since 1909, was “mother” to all of her students, providing both affection and proper precautions to protect their honour.57 A further improvement to purdah arrangements was made in 1923 when the shrouded bullock-carts that had provided conveyance to the girl students since the school’s inception were finally replaced with curtained motor lorries. This more comfortable and convenient form of transport was in the process of being introduced to Muslim girls’ schools throughout India at this time, although animal-drawn carts and carriages were not replaced entirely, even in the towns, until later in the twentieth century.58 A year later, these purdah arrangements even gained the approval of a visiting Quaker missionary, Ellen Nainby, who commented in one of her circular letters that, despite being a purdah institution, Sultania was spacious and airy, containing large classrooms and bed chambers, verandas, a courtyard, and a garden.59 Another major problem faced by the Begam in establishing Sultania Girls’ School was the lack of suitable teaching staff. From the start, she ruled out European mistresses on the basis that they would have an imperfect knowledge of the Urdu language and, thus, could not teach the “fine shades of meaning or the nice intricacies of pronunciation,” nor develop a “close communion” with their students – the “very essence of school life,” according to her autobiography. Yet trained Indian Muslim mistresses were almost impossible to obtain. Her stopgap solution was to hire three women – one from Delhi and two from Bhopal – who had been educated at home, as well as a “pious old man” as superintendent. Unfortunately, little is known about this initial staff beyond their names: Mughlani Khanam, Nazir Bi, Zainab Bi, and Maulvi Syed Mohammed Ali Rizvi. As the institution became more established, however, the Begam was able to hire more qualified women – all of whom were from the Indian Christian community in which female education was more widespread – to take over Sultania’s supervision. Also relevant in terms of Sultan Jahan’s attempts to address this ongoing problem was her inauguration of a teachers’ training class in 1917, similar to that begun at Aligarh Zenana Madrasa a few years before. It had the aim of producing qualified teachers from among the elite and appears to have been a major feature of the school, unlike in Aligarh where it was never emphasized.60 The success of these policies may be seen in that, when Ellen Nainby visited the school in 1924, she commented that the girls were well-served by 83

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12 teachers, four sewing mistresses, and a matron, several of whom were still Indian Christian women.61 The final problem that Sultan Jahan Begam faced in setting up her school for ashraf girls was the lack of an appropriate curriculum. As noted in the previous section, she was unwilling to use the syllabus employed in government girls’ schools on the basis that it did not address the domestic and religious requirements of the Muslim community. Again, she made do in the early years by sketching out a rough programme that included lessons in the Qur’an and its translation, Urdu, arithmetic, geography, and domestic economy.62 In 1907, however, a Miss M.W. Chinnappa was brought in from the Madras Presidency with the explicit aim of bringing her knowledge of managing schools on “modern lines” to Bhopal, thus suggesting her role in applying British models to the princely context. Accordingly, she introduced more geography, Persian, and, notably, rudimentary English to the syllabus, before instituting the Allahabad University Urdu Middle School course in 1908. To teach above the primary level in a school for Muslim girls must have been a radical innovation at this time, being that neither the Sakhawat Memorial Girls’ School nor the Aligarh Girls’ School reached this standard until nearly a decade later.63 From 1909, Mrs Baksh built on these foundations, even sending four girls to sit the examinations in Allahabad in 1911 – the first time that Bhopali girls had ever been sent for university examinations and all the more remarkable because they had to travel outside the state to do so. The outstanding grades achieved by one Sultania student, Aliya Khatun, in these examinations in 1916 suggested that the school had more than proved itself academically.64 Indeed, when she visited in 1924, Ellen Nainby confirmed the judgement given a year earlier by Miss Fitzroy, Lady Reading’s personal secretary, that Sultania’s students were lively and spirited, exhibiting a “humour and intelligence” that she had not seen elsewhere.65 Yet rising academic standards were also matched by improvements in religious and domestic instruction deemed appropriate for ashraf girls, once again demonstrating the importance attached by Sultan Jahan Begam to building on customary norms. Mrs Baksh in particular was responsible for boosting the technical element of the school’s programme, changes that were rewarded when Sultania’s students won medals at Industrial Exhibitions held at Nagpur and Lahore.66 Their handiwork, along with that of other Bhopali women, was also displayed at the All-India Ladies’ Art Exhibition held in Bhopal in 1914, with the intention of inducing parents to send their daughters to the institution where these “feminine crafts” could be learned.67 By 1917, however, the Begam of Bhopal was still dissatisfied with the school’s syllabus to the point that she raised the issue in her speech to Sultania staff on the occasion of the opening of the boarding house. In particular, she chided those Muslims in her audience for not having prepared an adequate curriculum for girls, as had been done in the Hindu community.68 Not long 84

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after this occasion, she developed her own syllabus, as noted in the previous section, which was introduced to Sultania in 1922 under the supervision of a Miss S.M. Paul from Rajputana. Just a year later, Miss Paul documented in an address given during Lady Reading’s visit to the institution that it was proving to be a great success. With its emphasis on such important subjects as home nursing, hygiene, and religious studies, it was producing a dedicated band of mothers-to-be who were, in her words, “real earnest religious and God fearing women.”69 Her use of this phrase suggests that the aims of modernist reformers from the time of Nazir Ahmad and Hali were finally being realized. For this success, the efforts of industrious women like Miss Paul, Mrs Baksh, and Miss Chinnappa, must be credited at least in part. They were responsible for maintaining purdah restrictions and applying a syllabus, as well as for enforcing strict discipline upon their female charges – to the point that, after Lady Minto visited the institution in late 1909, she noted in her diary how each of the girls responded to the ruling Begam’s “salaam” upon entering the school by clasping her hands and touching her forehead “with military precision.”70 It was the patronage of the Nawab Begam, however, that was the crucial factor. She was able to guarantee, above all, that Sultania never experienced the financial problems that afflicted similar endeavours. While Shaikh Abdullah, Rokeya, and other educationalists were constantly busied with seeking financial assistance from the British government and private individuals, the Begam was able to sanction unilaterally the use of state funds to pay for teachers, supplies, conveyances, and scholarships. Her status as the ruler of the state and a leading member of the Muslim community also brought respectability and a weight of authority to the project that was instrumental in overcoming the anxiety of conservative Muslims. The Begam herself recognized her vital role when she noted in her autobiography how, right from the beginning, the sceptics to her scheme were forced to acquiesce on the basis that it emanated from the ruler of the state.71 Sultan Jahan fostered this feeling by remaining an active participant in the running of the school. Not only did she receive frequent progress reports and help hire the staff, but she also visited regularly to distribute prizes and speak with the pupils.72 On these occasions, she reiterated the soothing justifications for female education present in her reformist writings and lectures. In a speech given at a prize-giving ceremony at the school in 1911, for example, she commanded the girls to “seek diligently to acquire knowledge” as it was a “woman’s wealth,” but stressed that the object of their education was not to prepare them to undertake the duties of men. Rather, they were being trained as “capable housewives and good mothers,” roles that received the approbation of God.73 The result of this personal interest taken by the Begam, as well as the location of the school in one of her palaces, was that Bhopali parents, like those who sent their girls to the Abdullahs’ school in Aligarh, were made to feel that their daughters were joining the “extended 85

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family” of the founder.74 This belief eased their worries about sending girls for education outside the home, an assertion that is supported by attendance records. Despite opposition, the endeavour began with as many as 140 girls on the roll, an amazing turnout when compared to the 17 students who first attended the Aligarh Zenana Madrasa three years later, or the eight who joined the Sakhawat Memorial Girls’ School in 1911. Numbers then dropped slightly after opening, but they remained high in the first decade at well over 100 pupils before slowly increasing to over 230 students in 1924.75 It is worth noting that a similar combination of factors has been accredited with the success of the earliest Muslim girls’ schools in Bengal, namely, the Faizunnessa School founded by Nawab Faizunnessa, a wealthy zamindar, in 1873, and the Suhrawardy School founded by Khujista Akhtar Begam, the mother of prominent politician and lawyer, Hussain Shahid Suhrawardy, in 1909; according to Yasmin Hossain, these institutions progressed, at least initially, on account of their founders’ “social standing, political sway and financial independence.”76 Other educationalists, too, sought to develop these advantages by adopting outside patrons of some renown, an important example being Shaikh Abdullah who undertook “assiduous lobbying” of various princely houses in connection with the girls’ school at Aligarh.77 Not surprisingly, he also approached Sultan Jahan Begam in Bhopal, apparently during a fund-raising tour with the Duty Society, but with the clear aim of getting her support for the establishment of a “normal school” before a meeting of the Muhammadan Educational Conference (MEC) in Lucknow in 1904.78 According to her autobiography, they had a long discussion on all aspects of female education, after which she promptly sanctioned a monthly grant for his endeavour.79 In time, large fixed grants were also provided to get the project underway and, later, to allow the completion of the boarding house – to the point that half of the necessary funds (to a comparatively impressive total of Rs 20,000) was provided for this project by the Begam of Bhopal, while the other half was provided by the government.80 She also visited the school on a number of occasions around this time, most notably in 1910 to inspect the plans for the residence hall and again in 1914 for its opening – when it was, in recognition of her vital patronage, named after her.81 Only with the ruling Begam’s financial and ideological backing had Shaikh Abdullah been able to convince sceptical members of the MEC that the establishment and expansion of his girls’ school was viable in those early years. Yet her support was to prove as important in years to come. After a visit from the Shaikh early in 1923, she was responsible for freeing this institution, by then a high school, from terminal financial difficulty by again raising her grant, a move that, in turn, guaranteed that the government of the United Provinces continued its grant-in-aid. Perhaps equally important on this occasion was that she also wrote personally to the Muslim rulers of Hyderabad, Jaora, Palanpur, Junagadh, and Kurwai, playing on kinship 86

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ties – fictive in the case of the first two and real in the case of the latter three – in a way that was discussed in the introductory chapter to persuade them to materially assist the girls’ school so as to put it back “on its legs again.”82 The Begam’s unrivalled influence in the field of female education is evident in that nearly all of the rulers raised their annual grants at her encouragement with the effect that, in less than two years, the Aligarh Girls’ School was not only out of danger, but also expanding to the status of an intermediate college.83 The significance of her contribution to education for ashraf girls outside Bhopal may also be seen in connection with Sayyid Karamat Husain’s Muslim Girls’ School in Lucknow and the zenana madrasa founded by Hali’s descendants in Panipat. As Minault has noted, it was only after the ruling Begam visited the first in 1915, and provided a yearly grant, that it was able to attain the necessary financial security that allowed it to grow. The second, too, having also been awarded a stipend, was named the Madrasa-iSultaniya in her honour.84 The ongoing importance of Sultan Jahan Begam’s involvement in female education within Bhopal state itself may be seen in that a similar institution to the Sultania Girls’ School was opened in Sehore in 1912. When it was visited by an external inspector in January of the following year, it was recorded that this school was far more popular, especially with Muslims, than the equivalent British government institution because it offered covered conveyances and religious education, as well as several scholarships – an observation that reinforces many of the points made above.85 Less successful was an even more elite institution that was opened later in the Begam’s reign to provide instruction to girls of the highest classes, particularly those belonging to the ruling family. Called the Sikandaria Girls’ School, it was situated within the compound of the ruling Begam’s own residence, the Ahmedabad Palace, in an attempt to give confidence to more cautious members of aristocratic Bhopali society that their daughters would receive an appropriate education within a carefully protected purdah environment and under the personal supervision of the Nawab Begam. The school served between 40 and 50 girls at its height, many of whom stayed as boarders in the palace and some of whom received scholarships in spite of their parents’ wealth. Overturning the Begam’s proclaimed objection to European mistresses, it was headed by Mrs Margaret Wheeler, an English-born woman, who had previously taught at several government girls’ institutions in British India, including the girls’ high school at Murree. Its absolute reliance on the ruling Begam’s presence is suggested in that it actually closed during her extended visit to England in 1925–6.86 This example also highlights the special considerations involved in educating ashraf girls in Muslim India in that many comparable institutions in Ottoman Turkey and Egypt also failed, but for very different reasons – in those cases, it was because nobles preferred to send their daughters to foreign schools. The renowned Turkish nationalist and writer, Halidé Edib, 87

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to take just one example, noted in her memoirs how her parents sent her to the American College for Girls in Constantinople, rather than any local institution.87 Interestingly, it was European tutelage that was also preferred by Sultan Jahan Begam for her closest female relatives, namely, her daughterin-law, Maimoona Sultan, educated under her watchful eye from the age of five, and her three granddaughters, Abida, Sajida, and Rabia, the only children of Hamidullah and Maimoona. According to Abida Sultaan’s recently published memoir, her mother’s education was undertaken with the explicit aim of producing “the epitome of a modern Muslim princess.” What this meant was that, on one hand, she was given a “traditional grounding” in the Qur’an, hadith, Islamic history, calligraphy, Arabic, Persian, and Urdu – that allowed her, while still in her youth, to publish several tracts on morality, the Prophet, and the caliphate88 – while, on the other, she was taught English, French, the violin, and the piano, as well as being taught to ride, shoot, and play tennis, by European governesses.89 From the early 1920s, the ruling Begam also contacted European women in India, such as Lady Willingdon, the wife of Bombay’s lieutenant-governor, with the aim of employing an “extraordinarily capably lady,” who, while being “thoroughly abreast of the times,” could also offer instruction to her granddaughters in moral science, theology, housekeeping, painting, music, English, French, Italian, and, preferably, nursing.90 This cosmopolitan curriculum was closer to that being offered by European governesses to girls of the Westernized upper-classes in Turkey than that pursued in the Begam’s own schools, suggesting that the latter was either purely strategic or the former was distinguished on the basis of class.91 That the latter was the case – with the curriculum being drafted to reflect the girls’ social standing – is suggested in that the programme of study actually pursued by the Begam for her granddaughters resembled closely that provided to ashraf gentlemen of an earlier generation.92 She actually began their education herself in the Qur’an and its translation at the appropriate age, allowing the eldest, Abida, to finish in 1921, at the age of eight, after a record four years of study. The draconian teaching style that facilitated this quick learning is reflected in Abida’s memoir in which she referred to this period of her life as a “long nightmare” distinguished by “drudgery, torture and misery” because her grandmother would cruelly beat her during her lessons, leaving “dark bruises and hard lumps” on her face and head.93 For her suffering, she was, as was touched upon in Chapter 1, rewarded with an elaborate nashra ceremony to celebrate her achievement. This involved 40 days of feasting and gift-giving, including the presentation of expensive jewellery and mansabs to family members, jagirdars, and officials – an act that certainly would not have been deemed appropriate by most frugal proponents of Islamic reform.94 Subsequently, the young princesses’ education was begun in earnest, despite the absence of an ideal governess. While instruction in the Qur’an, hadith, fiqr, Arabic, and Persian was provided by various maulvis, two European mistresses – the 88

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above-mentioned Mrs Wheeler and a Miss Cohen – taught classes in English, French, history, geography, and mathematics in the English language. The girls’ practical education, provided by employees of the palace, included lessons in horse riding and shooting – deemed necessary for “every Pathan” – as well as outdoor games and sports, music, and even some basic trades. This intense schedule of instruction was continued until the death of their uncles in 1924 and their subsequent sojourn to England.95 It is worth noting that Hamidullah and Maimoona’s daughters received this remarkable education apart from the other girls of their extended family, despite the proximity of Sikandaria School and the sharing of staff, apparently because their grandmother did not want them to imbibe the conservative ways of women of the old landlord families.96 Her critique of this class may also be seen in that she decided as early as 1903 to establish the Alexandra Nobles’ School for Hamidullah and other elite boys in Bhopal on the basis that they were, according to her autobiography, “slaves of old customs,” “devotees of ignorance,” and “ardent admirers of show and extravagance.”97 These explanations highlight the Begam of Bhopal’s concurrence, despite her extremely privileged status as the ruler of a princely state, with other proponents of sharif education, not least Sayyid Ahmed Khan himself, who reflected the Muslim elite’s straightened circumstances under British rule by condemning the decadence of an earlier era in favour of an emphasis on “social duty and the acquisition of knowledge.”98 Yet, unlike those former civil servants who were condemned to earning a living, it does not seem that the ruling Begam was so concerned with distinguishing sharif culture from that of the lower classes in the provision of her education to her granddaughters at least. During their time abroad, she actually extended those lessons in carpentry and goldsmithing mandated in Bhopal by hiring English craftspeople instruct them in woodcarving, pewter work, more goldsmithing, leatherwork, Chinese lacquer, music, cookery, and a range of other practical skills.99 This type of involvement on the part of the Begam with those outside her class and community, as well as her growing advocacy of technical education, will be explored in the following section.

Instructing Hindu girls and poor Muslims Many of the girls’ schools established by Muslim reformers in the early twentieth century were directed primarily at the ashraf, with little concern being shown to their less fortunate co-religionists or the Hindu majority. Minault has made this point with regard to Shaikh Abdullah, to take just one example, highlighting that his educational appeals were made exclusively to ashraf women, while his school at Aligarh catered to a “prestige clientele” demanding a “prestige education.”100 That is not to say, of course, that there were not exceptions. The Anjuman-i-Himayat-i-Islam’s primary schools in Lahore’s old city, for instance, catered to girls from their own orphanages, as 89

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well as those in purdah who could not afford a tutor at home. Similarly, Abdul Haq Abbas’ Madrasat ul-Banat, established in Jalandhar in 1926, had the explicit aim of reaching poor girls in that it charged no fees and, like the Anjuman’s schools in Punjab, trained them in the production of handicrafts that could be sold to help fund their education.101 It was also noted in Chapter 1 that Sikandar Begam had founded the Victoria School in Bhopal over half a century before to appeal to poor Hindu and Muslim girls, while her successor, Shah Jahan Begam, had followed up with the Bilqisia Orphanage, also offering female education. Without a doubt, these institutions had been considered highly progressive when they were established, but, during the last years of Shah Jahan Begam’s reign, they had declined to such a point that, when the new ruler visited them in 1904, she found the number of students to be less than the number of staff.102 Regardless of this, a model had been put in place that Sultan Jahan Begam would build upon right up until her death. Her first move in this direction was to revive those institutions founded by her mother and grandmother by bringing in a new superintendent in the form of an Eurasian woman called Mrs Sculpthorpe. Under her inspired leadership, the Victoria School came to serve an amazing 180 girls by the end of the next school year, all of whom were taught reading, writing, arithmetic, embroidery, and needlework, and also received lessons in the Qur’an and Islamic theology if they were Muslim – a curriculum that once again draws attention to the importance of domestic and religious education in the eyes of the ruling Begam. The quality of the teaching may be surmised in that several articles prepared by the girls were even awarded prizes when they were sent to the exhibition of female industry at the Muhammadan Educational Conference held in Aligarh in December 1905.103 Some of the students’ work was also sold to help subsidize low tuition payments and to fund the institution, just as was the practice in those schools in Punjab mentioned above, highlighting that, while this school was open to girls of every caste and religion, it was designated as serving those of the lower and middle classes in particular. The importance of good leadership may also be seen in that the Victoria School achieved its greatest success during the prewar administration of Mrs Katherine Johory, an Indian Christian who was the wife of the ruling Begam’s personal secretary and an active member of the Quaker community in the state.104 Indeed, Sultan Jahan Begam was so impressed with her efforts that she also placed her in charge of a new school for girls, the Madrasa Bilqisia, founded in 1912. Interestingly, this school was located in the centre of Bhopal city so that poor Muslim girls could attend without difficulty, even though no conveyance was provided – the assumption being that they could walk there wearing burqas in a way not deemed appropriate for their elite co-religionists at Sultania. Also reflecting the particular background of Bilqisia’s clientele was the provision of scholarships from the state treasury to each of the nearly 60 students, an investment that simply would not have been fathomable outside 90

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the realms of princely patronage. In terms of curriculum, the needs of the student body were also apparent in that this institution followed the example of the first girls’ schools in Ottoman Turkey in offering the most basic instruction necessary to prepare Muslim girls to be better wives and mothers, namely, lessons in needlework and the Qur’an.105 It may be postulated that these measures explained why the Madrasa Bilqisia, along with the Victoria School, achieved greater success than early primary schools established for less privileged girls by the British colonial state in India and Egypt alike, for these schools recognized poorer women’s roles as both housewives and wage earners, rather than offering a strictly academic curriculum that was unsuited to their socio-economic conditions.106 In this context, it is worth noting that similar considerations also went into Sultan Jahan Begam’s initiatives for boys’ education: tailoring and boot-making classes were provided at the Jahangiria School from 1907 and a full-fledged industrial school for boys, the Habibia Technical School, was established in 1916. Under the supervision of a Mr Joshi, a graduate of the Central Technical Institute in Bombay, this latter institution offered vocational courses in mechanical engineering, carpentry and cabinet making, coach building, and motor car mechanics.107 Also relevant to this discussion is that the Begam’s concern with the education of poor girls was not limited to her state alone. In the same year that Bilqisia was established, she launched a national appeal to establish a girls’ school in Delhi to commemorate Queen Mary’s visit to India the previous year, explicitly stating both in a published pamphlet and statements to the press that it was “intended for the girls of rich as well as poor families without distinction of nationality or religion” and, hence, would “welcome girls of all classes.”108 She reiterated this point in response to a letter from Lady Edith Dane, the wife of the Lieutenant-Governor of the Punjab, arguing that the new institution would not “interfere” with the Queen Mary College that had recently been established at Lahore because that school was for “girls of high birth,” while hers in Delhi was for “girls of all classes” – so they should not “clash.”109 The proposed curriculum, too, revealed the school’s orientation towards girls with a need to earn a living in that, while there was a focus on domestic subjects, the Begam also made a teachers’ training class a priority and recognized that girl students could be prepared by their course of study to enter the medical profession.110 The basic syllabus also demonstrated her willingness to reach across the boundaries of community as they were being constructed in this period in that it included “theology (Hindu and Muslim),” as well as lessons in Urdu, Hindi, Persian, and Sanskrit.111 Her attempt to procure a large plot of land, however, for the purpose of a “parda” wall and garden, as well as four blocks of boarding houses, suggests that she still had in mind a primarily ashraf clientele, such as she was used to accommodating at Sultania in Bhopal.112 Ultimately, it did come to serve the elite.113 91

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The educational endeavour that seemed to more distinguish the Begam of Bhopal from her fellow Muslim reformers, then, was her advocacy of education for adult women of the lower classes. In her autobiography, she spoke eloquently of the plight of the “pitiable” women in her realm, including widows and illiterate village women, commenting – in words that echoed her grandmother’s advice with regard to the “cultivators of the soil” – that it was one of her “most important duties” to bring them “pleasure” and “sympathy.”114 To a large degree, this philanthropic interest may be attributed to basic religious tenets, which stated that all Muslims, male and female, must show sympathy to the less fortunate through the provision of zakat, or charity.115 Yet it was also inspired by elite British women, who were involved actively in social welfare work, both in India and Britain. Following their example, Sultan Jahan Begam urged women of her own class to go beyond simply giving alms to the poor or establishing a waqf to support a public edifice. This “plain” charity was disparaged on the basis that it created “excessive complacence,” leading to “idleness” and an “undesirable burden on public funds.”116 What she promoted instead was the establishment of schools by elites across India, schools in which impoverished women could be taught the skills of self-reliance through initiation into a trade or profession. Such opportunities, she argued, would not only protect disadvantaged women from being forced into prostitution or other disreputable occupations, but also enhance their “usefulness,” thus lessening the gap between rich and poor by making them reliant on one another.117 Maimoona Sultan developed this point in a speech to the ladies’ club in Bhopal, arguing that it was a requirement of “the poor” to work hard and make an honest living, but “the nobility and middle class persons” were compelled to show solicitude for them by providing them with the means to earn their livelihood.118 These paternalistic remarks highlight that the Begam and her daughterin-law – like most philanthropists regardless of time and place – did not seek to address the root causes of poverty, but instead aimed to bring limited improvements to the position of lower class women so as to ease the potential pressure on members of their own class. Nevertheless, it provided the ruling Begam with the impetus to offer widows and other poor women a means to making their own living and, thus, achieve some economic independence. To this end, in 1905, she founded a female school of arts, referred to as the Widows’ Industrial School, with the aim of teaching useful skills such as sewing and needlework to poor women. Unlike her other educational endeavours, however, this school neither started well, nor grew in popularity. Indeed, the Begam was only able to increase attendance marginally from the initial 29 students by making enrolment a necessary condition to poor women being imparted other financial aid.119 By 1909, it was agreed among the state’s administrators that the school had not proved a success because the widows who were meant to attend were “too old to learn anything and too lazy to come regularly.”120 This contemptuous rhetoric suggests 92

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that public opinion in Bhopal had simply not come around to accepting such a radical institution. Only if the ruling Begam had shown considerable enthusiasm could greater interest have been stimulated in the project, but, at this time, her focus remained on elite education. Perhaps the best illustration of this point is that, while the Widows’ Industrial School was threatened with closure, state funding was poured into the above-mentioned Alexandra Nobles’ School with sciences classes, a boarding house, and a well-paid European headmaster from Cambridge being bestowed upon it by 1914.121 Nevertheless, this pioneering institution was able to continue in a haphazard way under the supervision of Mrs Baksh, also charged with Sultania, after its name was changed in the pre-war years to the Asfia Technical School in an attempt to lift its image. More concrete efforts to resuscitate it were made in 1922 in the form of a thorough restructuring that reflected “good practice” in existing schools for poor girls. Women’s wage-earning capacities, for instance, were recognized through the provision of grants to students and a system of paying wages for completed work, while classes in new methods of embroidery were also started. This latter measure was developed in years to come after half of the ten mistresses were sent to study in Hyderabad, an initiative that draws attention to a female reformist network operating within Muslim princely states. By 1925, instruction was provided in 12 branches of female industry, including gold-thread work, Arabian embroidery, woollen knitting, bead work, chikan, silk embroidery, soap making, cloth weaving, and spinning. The success of these measures can be seen in the fact that, in the same year, nearly 100 students were attending with several medals having been awarded for their work at industrial exhibitions.122 The school, thus, came to resemble the more elaborate professional training institutions such as the École Professionelle et Ménagère established in Cairo a few years later in connection with the Egyptian Feminist Union.123 In encouraging the revival of indigenous arts and crafts in place of imported manufactured goods, it also displayed a rare unity of purpose with the earlier swadeshi movement and Gandhi’s non-cooperation movement, as was more often seen in the writings and speeches of Rokeya in Bengal and of other politicized Muslim women involved with the Khilafat movement, including Abadi Banu Begam (known as Bi Amman) and Begam Hasrat Mohani.124 These changes to the Asfia Technical School reflected both the increased interest of the ruling Begam and the new management, specifically the appointment of Fatima Begam and Abru Begam, the sisters of Maulana Abul Kalam Azad, as superintendent and honorary supervisor of the institution in May 1922. Their comprehensive education in the Islamic sciences alongside their brothers in Arabia and India, as discussed in Chapter 2, seemed to inspire them to push the boundaries of female education beyond the sharif focus of Aligarh reformers by offering instruction to women of the lower classes in particular. While Fatima Begam continued her enthusiastic 93

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work at Asfia throughout the 1920s, Abru Begam offered courageous personal supervision to a Zenana Poor House and the Muslim girls’ orphanage in Bhopal – two initiatives that were especially commended by Sultan Jahan Begam in a speech given at the Princess of Wales Ladies’ Club.125 It is interesting to note, however, that her efforts were actually condemned by the Hindu Mahasabha in 1931, on the basis that she was said to force orphans to embrace Islam.126 Clearly, the heightened communal atmosphere of the 1930s added a dimension to the process of women’s reform not present – or at least not to the same degree – during the life of Sultan Jahan Begam. Saying that, the ruling Begam did play a role in the process of community construction occurring in India in the early twentieth century by demonstrating an awareness of the diverging needs of girls, not only of different classes, but also of different communities. This trend can be seen in her autobiography, in which she expressed her opinion that Hindu girls were just as much in need of education as their Muslim sisters, but argued that there was little point in sending them to a Muslim girls’ school, as they would not receive instruction in their own religion, an essential part of education as she saw it.127 Her response was to open the Birjisia Kania Patshala in 1907 for the exclusive benefit of Hindu girls in her dominion. It does not appear, however, that this institution ever received the attention lavished on other schools in the state, and its attendance remained low – the highest recorded being just 32 students in 1913–14.128 What may be deduced from this figure is that the Begam faced similar problems in encouraging Hindu girls to attend school as she did with her own Muslim constituency, though their reticence may also be attributed to a suspicion of the state apparatus, especially as it was headed by the Nawab Begam and her primarily Muslim courtiers.129 Other explanations may be found in that, like the Widows’ Industrial School, it was, from 1909, placed under the jurisdiction of Mrs Baksh, who would have had little time for its improvement, being that she was also the superintendent of the Begam’s “pet” institution, the Sultania Girls’ School. The Begam’s interest in educating a broader constituency within her state was also reflected in her attempts to reform those long-running institutions for boys that were established during the reigns of her mother and grandmother, namely, the Sulaimania High School and the Madrasa-i-Jahangiria, as they catered to a less privileged clientele than the Alexandra Nobles’ School. Shortly after she came to the throne, the first boasted a staggering enrolment of 700 pupils, though no more than 20 had actually passed the matriculation examination and none had gone on to complete a degree program.130 This poor performance was attributed to lax discipline, the unavailability of textbooks, a lack of personal cleanliness, and substandard teaching, according to a series of condemnatory reports by the state’s education inspector, Bhagwan Das, also the headmaster of the Sehore High School.131 The new ruler’s response was to replace – what she herself had termed in her autobiography – those “old and mouldy” teachers appointed 94

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during her mother’s reign with men with a modernist approach and, more often than not, a degree from Aligarh – a move that obviously proved successful as both schools were soon reported to have “advanced rapidly.”132 By the outbreak of the First World War, they were providing instruction to nearly seven times as many students as the better-funded Alexandra and achieving greater academic success.133 Their ongoing connections with Aligarh were also strengthened in the 1920s, when all of Bhopal’s high schools were affiliated to the Aligarh Muslim University, recently raised to full university status, rather than the government institution at Allahabad or the proposed Board of High School and Intermediate Education in Central India.134 In this connection, it is perhaps worth noting that Sultan Jahan Begam was – in the footsteps of her esteemed grandmother, Sikandar – a dutiful supporter of the educational institution at Aligarh. She and her sons made generous donations to a range of societies and events, including the Duty Society, the Riding Club, and even a student tea party in 1910.135 Perhaps her greatest vote of confidence in the institution, however, was her decision to send her youngest and favourite son, Hamidullah, as a pupil from 1910. His attendance precipitated regular visits during the pre-war and war years during which the Nawab Begam presided over the Muhammadan Educational Conference in 1912, laid the foundation stone for its new headquarters in 1914, and attended the opening of this building – appropriately named the Sultan Jahan Manzil – in 1916.136 In recognition of her contributions to Muslim education and her long-term connections with Aligarh, she was appointed the first chancellor of Aligarh Muslim University in 1920, a position from which she launched an important committee of enquiry into the working of the institution in the late 1920s.137 On the occasion of his succession, Hamidullah celebrated these links between Bhopal and Aligarh, claiming that his mother had joined the two cities in a “common unity” so that they were like “two bodies but with a single mind.”138 Sultan Jahan’s own identification with Sayyid Ahmad’s intentions was perhaps best reflected in a comment made upon her arrival at the college in 1914: “I feel like [I am] breathing the Cambridge air when I come to Aligarh.”139 Yet she also granted regular stipends and other support to a number of other Muslim and princely institutions, including Deoband, Nadwa, the Farangi Mahall, the Hali Muslim High School in Panipat, Daly College in Indore, the controversial Sultania College project, and even a proposed college for “Indian chiefs” that, ultimately, did not come into being.140 In Bhopal itself, Sultan Jahan Begam took full advantage of her princely control over state funds to maintain nearly 50 village schools, two of which admitted girls, two of which taught in English, and all of which provided free instruction, some to the middle school level, in the Qur’an, Urdu, Persian, Hindi, and arithmetic.141 Her growing concern with this type of mass education may also be reflected in the passage of the Compulsory Education Act 95

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in 1920, intended to introduce free and compulsory education to children throughout the state, though it was directed specifically at boys aged 7 to 14 years. Not surprisingly, this initiative was hailed in the Muslim press as a “triumph”, on the basis that similar ventures had been introduced in only one other princely state, namely, Baroda, and not in British India – an observation that again highlights the role of certain Indian princes in providing the lead on educational reform.142 The question remained, however, as to how this dictate would be put into practice. Within a year, five new institutions, attended by as many as 600 male pupils, had been opened in Bhopal city as part of this programme, while, in subsequent years, several more schools for both boys and girls were introduced in the capital and in regional centres, some of which even offered instruction to secondary level.143 From about 1923, however, the ruling Begam’s interest in this educational project – along with most others, for that matter – waned as personal problems – not least the illnesses and subsequent deaths of her two elder sons, Nasrullah and Obaidullah, and the contested succession of her youngest, Hamidullah – demanded all of her energy and attention. Sultan Jahan Begam’s second trip to Europe in 1925–6 – undertaken for the purpose of challenging the decision of the Government of India on Bhopal’s succession – seemed to mark a turning point, however, in terms of her educational reforms. Even during her stay in Britain, she directed her attention to helping poorer women of her state by learning practical skills that she thought would be useful to them, including basket-weaving, leatherwork, and the making of pillow lace.144 This move distinguished her from other reforming princesses, like the Maharani of Baroda, who were eager to observe and read about practices in “the West” so that they might write theoretical tracts on the subject, but did little to learn actual trades that could be passed on to women in India.145 Upon her return, Sultan Jahan also gave a lecture at the Princess of Wales Ladies’ Club in Bhopal, in which she recognized that, while she had been an active patron of female education throughout her reign, the attention that she had been able to give to this issue had often been restricted by her duties as the autocratic ruler of a princely state. Thus, her abdication from the throne gave her cause to rejoice as it offered her the opportunity to revitalize her earlier endeavours, many of which had fallen into disarray without her leadership, while also providing personal direction to certain new projects. As she informed her audience in a typically unequivocal fashion, “I now intend to freely devote my whole energy to the service of my sex and devotion to God.”146 Yet these efforts were not to be the same as before, but instead of a new type: “Bhopal is now entering a new régime, and similarly the scope of your work should enter upon a new phase . . . ”147 What Sultan Jahan meant by this pronouncement was made clear in one of her last letters to Mrs Ranken – the wife of a British army colonel with whom she had corresponded for many years – in which she described how 96

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she had been assisting with charity work in poorer areas of Bhopal.148 This passage referred to her personal involvement with the Asfia Technical School, an institution over which she took “direct and personal supervision” upon her return to India in an attempt to make further improvements. It was still headed by Fatima Begam, but with the assistance of a British woman called Miss Oliphant, who had accompanied the ruling family back to Bhopal after leaving the post of governess to the children of the Maharani of Cooch Behar. Under their shared administration, it attempted to attract yet more new students by offering improved courses on various handicrafts, including the ones which the Begam had learned in England.149 Katherine Taylor, a Quaker missionary in the state with whom the now Dowager Begam was friendly, remarked in one of her letters home to Britain that that these subjects were not always suitable for the women who were paid to attend, but that their introduction marked an effort of particular significance in it represented a concrete attempt on the part of the former ruler to offer direct help to the less advantaged women of her state.150 In breaching the exclusivity of Muslims of the ashraf class, it suggested that Indian Muslim women, like their contemporaries in the Middle East, were on the cusp of a new feminism that crossed lines of class, nation, and community, though this fragile alliance was to crumble in the face of a more complex set of political factors in the 1930s.

Conclusions By the time of Sultan Jahan Begam’s death in 1930, many successes had been achieved in the sphere of female education in Bhopal state and elsewhere thanks to her generous patronage. Generations of educated ashraf girls were beginning to emerge from Sultania Girls’ School and other model institutions who were able to fulfil many of the new functions expected from Muslim women in the early twentieth century. Trained in basic academic subjects, religion, and the ‘feminine arts,’ they were aware of women’s rights and duties within Islam, as well as of current scientific methods and the etiquette of modern social gatherings. Bhopal had also seen the establishment of village-level training schemes, a compulsory education programme, and schools for widows, orphans, and other poor girls. These activities demonstrated an interest on the part of the Begam, if not quite as vigorous, in the educational concerns of women outside her class and community – not least their need to contribute to the family income – at a time when most Muslim reformers were focussing on a more prestige clientele. At the same time, it should be recognized that the rate of female literacy in Bhopal state only increased from 9 to 21 women per thousand in the first 20 years of Sultan Jahan Begam’s rule (1901–21).151 This statistic could lead the sceptical reader to conclude, as did certain contemporary British officials, that the process of educational reform for women in the state was “pure 97

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eyewash.”152 This judgement would ignore, however, the immense difficulties involved in founding any educational institution for Muslim women at this time, as well as the impact that these initiatives had on individual girls – women of the next generation – who were, as British visitors to the state themselves noted, full of enthusiasm for the new opportunities.153 That the ruling Begam was also able to use her position to bring about a change in public opinion – particularly within her state, though also elsewhere – is suggested in that many Muslims began to show an appreciation, rather than indifference, to female education as time went on. As she told an American visitor to Bhopal in the early 1920s, “In the beginning I had to pay the parents to allow their daughters to attend my schools . . . now the parents ask to have their daughters admitted and are willing to pay for the privilege.”154 Sultan Jahan Begam’s method of justifying female education and establishing girls’ schools provides a clear illustration of how she sought to bring about incremental change by working within customary norms. The Qur’an and episodes from early Islamic history were liberally quoted in writings and speeches, purdah restrictions were rigidly maintained in elite institutions, schools were portrayed as an extension of girls’ families, and a syllabus was drafted that emphasized moral and religious teaching as well as the domestic roles for women – whether that involved being a wife, mother, or wageearner. This approach may be interpreted as limited in its challenge to class and gender hierarchies as they were implicit within the ruling Begam’s understanding of Islam. Yet her emphasis on a separate female sphere also had the result of giving women an area of expertise where men could not – or at least should not – interfere. Since only women knew about women, it was argued that they had to take responsibility for drafting a curriculum and establishing girls’ schools. In an unprecedented step, the Begam of Bhopal had rejected the patronizing attitude of male reformers such as Rashid ul-Khairi – who, as Minault has argued, viewed women as objects to be reformed, rather than as active participants in their own regeneration155 – and firmly placed Muslim women in charge of their own destiny. The educational reforms patronized by the Begam also had some paradoxical effects similar to those that Minault and others have described in other contexts. While certain customs, such as purdah, were strengthened through their institutionalization in girls’ schools – thus limiting women’s sphere of action – attendance at school also led to broader networks of female communication and a growing interest on the part of women in social service organizations and Urdu journalism.156 Muslim women of the next generation, such as Maimoona Sultan and her three daughters, took on these challenges and pushed their boundaries far beyond whatever could have been imagined by Sultan Jahan Begam. Indeed, the strength of her legacy may be seen in the fact that many Muslim women in the former Bhopal state continue to be educated under the watchful eye of her portrait at the Sultania Girls’ School and at other institutions founded during her administration – 98

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though, more often than not, they are educated to a higher level than during her reign and, on the part of the elite at least, with the explicit hope of entering the professions. Descendants of the Begam, too – some of whom still reside in her palace in Bhopal – have attended college, some abroad, in order to undertake teaching and administration in a school, notably in the curiously named Falcon Crest Public School that operates in the building of the old Sikandaria Girls’ School at Ahmedabad Palace. What emerges from this analysis of educational reforms, then, is they way in which the Begam of Bhopal, her contemporaries, and her descendants drew on a wide range of reformist models – from those provided by the colonial state and Aligarh modernists to Maria Montessori and the Deobandi ‘ulama – but were certainly not contained by them.

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4 VEILING AND SECLUSION

Writing in 1918, Sultan Jahan Begam noted that the two most “interesting and important” problems facing Muslim women were purdah and education. Yet, whereas she was provided with many occasions on which to express her opinions publicly on the latter, she rarely got the opportunity to discuss the former – except perhaps in passing in speeches to the Princess of Wales Ladies’ Club in Bhopal.1 Her response was to write a book entitled ‘Iffat ulMuslimat (Muslim Women’s Modesty) that was first published in Urdu in 1918, then republished in a more widely circulated English translation under the title Al-Hijab or Why Purdah is Necessary in 1922.2 At women’s meetings in the same period, purdah also became a common topic of debate. For instance, the members of the Anjuman-i-Khawatin-i-Islam (or All-India Muslim Ladies’ Conference) advocated a form of purdah considered to be ordained by the shari‘at, rather than Indian custom. Many of these women also began wearing the new Turkish-style burqa, which consisted of a long coat with a detachable veil (covering the head, shoulders, and arms) that allowed them to move about more easily in public while still being modestly covered.3 This stylish ensemble was advertised in Urdu women’s journals, like Bhopal’s Zil us-Sultan, where it was deemed to be so “beautiful and comfortable” that a woman could wear it “day and night.”4 According to the seller, the top could also be easily removed and replaced by a simple dupatta if the wearer were travelling in a railway car or some other form of curtained transport, thus highlighting the way in which veiling and seclusion was related to freedom of movement in a colonized society in being a fashionable topic among Indian Muslim women in the early twentieth century. As noted in the opening section of the introductory chapter, much of what has been written about Muslim women has focussed on the institution of the veil, with anthropologists and historians alike relating the practice to social organization in a given society. In South Asia, too, some of the earliest explorations of Muslim women’s history took purdah as a starting point, investigating the way that it provided what Hanna Papanek called “symbolic shelter,” in that women could operate in a “separate world” apart from men.5 Developing this idea, Gail Minault used Muslim women’s participa100

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tion in Indian nationalist politics in the early twentieth century to show how, by not challenging the institution and instead upholding “traditional feminine roles,” early female activists “extended” their sphere of activity “beyond previously acceptable limits.”6 A similar process was identified in terms of Muslim women’s education with the maintenance of strict purdah – even stricter than many girls would have experienced at home – in early girls’ schools (such as the Aligarh Zenana Madrasa) enabling attendance, even as it codified the practice by elucidating “detailed rules” for observance. Yet, according to Minault, this process also had a number of “unforeseen” outcomes in that, for example, it facilitated women’s entry into the professions by creating a demand for female teachers.7 On the other hand, studies of Muslim women’s writing and activities in other regions, even in the same period, have thrown up some very different images of purdah: Rokeya Sakhawat Hossain’s utopian short story in English, Sultana’s Dream, satirized Muslim society for keeping women strictly secluded, while her collection of factual anecdotes, Avarodhbasini (The Secluded Ones), exposed both the ridiculous and tragic effects of the inflexible purdah system prevalent in India.8 Though her ideas were far from popular in her own lifetime, they seemed to provide inspiration for a later generation.9 In this chapter, then, I will focus on the institution of purdah as it was debated and observed by Sultan Jahan Begam and other Indian Muslim women with whom she came in contact in the early twentieth century. Some reference has been made to this topic already in the context of identifying the form of the ruling Begam’s administration (Chapter 2) and discussing problems connected with her educational programme (Chapter 3). But here the discussion will concentrate on three main themes emerging out of the historiography. The first is the process of defining limits on Muslim women’s movement in terms of the home, dress, public affairs, biology, travel, economics, health, education, and patriotism as part of a reformist discourse. In this connection, it is perhaps most striking that, in many ways at least, the ruling Begam’s writings seemed to anticipate those of later Islamist thinkers. The second theme relates to the institutionalization of purdah, with specific reference to supplementary educational institutions and the establishment of women’s organizations. Related to this development was the creation a female-only public sphere in which women could define their own interests and organize their own activities in a way that probably would not have been possible had segregation not been in place. In the third section, attention will then shift to the issue of generational conflict, using purdah observance and debates to show how the Begam of Bhopal acted as an intermediary between different generations of Muslim female activists as they struggled to come to terms with new norms and expectations. In doing so, this chapter will provide some of the most dramatic evidence of the incremental process of change initiated by Indian Muslim women in the early twentieth century. 101

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Defining limits Of all the reformist topics discussed in India from the mid-nineteenth century, the one that led to the widest divergence of opinion was purdah. As noted in Chapter 1, most early reformers, including Nazir Ahmad Dehlavi and Altaf Husain Hali, had not thought to even question its customary observance, while Sayyid Ahmad Khan had explicitly defended it. By the last decade of the nineteenth century, however, some Islamic modernists were beginning to make a distinction between Indian practice and Qur’anic injunctions. Syed Ameer Ali, for instance, spoke with disdain in his The Spirit of Islam, first published in 1891, of the “inelastic” purdah set-up in India, claiming that “strict seclusion” was a remnant of the pre-Islamic Age of Ignorance (jahilia). Though “privacy” was necessary to protect the female sex, the only effect of complete segregation was to prevent women from having an “ennobling, purifying and humanising influence on men’s minds.”10 Similarly, Sayyid Mumtaz Ali contended in his revolutionary treatise in Urdu, Huquq un-Niswan (The Rights of Women), published in 1898, that the Qur’an did not imply that women should cover their faces or be kept segregated; instead it advocated “shari‘at-inspired modesty” by which a woman could move about freely in public wearing a burqa that left the hands and face uncovered.11 Other modernists, on the other hand, forcibly rejected these arguments, issuing detailed refutations, some of which were then republished by ‘ulama-run presses in north India. One example was an article entitled Purdah aur Islam (Purdah and Islam) by the renowned scholar and poet, Maulana Shibli Numani, in which he countered Ameer Ali’s take on the “historical basis” of purdah.12 Nevertheless, by the early twentieth century, a number of leading Indian Muslim families – most notably, the Shafi family of Lahore and the Tyabjis of Bombay – were abandoning any form of purdah, thus stimulating an animated discussion on the future of the veil. In the introduction to ‘Iffat ul-Muslimat and Al-Hijab, Sultan Jahan Begam recognized that the battle lines were firmly drawn in this great debate, elucidating that there were, in fact, three main camps of opinion: first, those who were totally opposed to purdah; second, those who wished to lessen its restrictions by providing their own interpretation of the relevant religious injunctions; and, third, those who wished to maintain the purdah system, believing that to modify it would be not only contradictory to Islamic law, but also threatening to “national honour” – by which she appeared to identify the qaum with some amorphous Indian Muslim community.13 As the title of her work suggested, she was firmly in this last camp. She realized, however, that the debate could be confusing for her “sisters-in-faith” who, faced with examples of Western “license” in a colonial context and sometimes being encouraged to give up purdah by “liberty-loving husbands,” had to work out their own “course” to following the “Islamic moral code.”14 Her

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book, then, was directed explicitly at Muslim women – “in the hope that when they think of freedom, they may be warned in time, from its perusal”15 – but she recognized that it may also be read by a “certain group of Mussalmans” who would “severely criticize” it. Her pre-emptive response was to abdicate intellectual responsibility from the outset, stressing that almost none of the opinions in the book were her own; rather they were drawn from the Qur’an and the hadith, as well as the writings of “famous divines” listed in the foreword – including the godfather of Islamic reform in India, Shah Waliullah – and more “modern writers,” such as Nazir Ahmad and Shibli, who, as seen above, had defended customary purdah observance.16 Like the latter, she also countered Ameer Ali explicitly – despite having met him during his lengthy retirement in England in 1911 – claiming that men with views like his were “poisoning the ears of the people.”17 To buttress her stance that Islamic injunctions demanded the retention of “strict” purdah, Sultan Jahan Begam devoted the first full chapter of ‘Iffat ul-Muslimat and Al-Hijab to the theme of “Purdah aur Shari‘at” (Purdah and Islamic law).18 According to her interpretation, the Qur’an itself delineated without ambiguity the limits of proper purdah observance by ordering women to avoid displaying their “finery” as was done in the jahilia (33: 33), to converse with men through a curtain (33: 53) and to wear an outer wrapper if they had to go out (33: 59). In taking this stance, the Begam offered a literal reading of these verses – rather than taking into account historical conditions or the special status of the Prophet’s wives, as did, for instance, Sayyid Mumtaz Ali – asserting that all Muslim women should avoid leaving their homes, even to attend public baths or the mosque, though the latter was not forbidden to them. If a woman did need to go out for some essential task, she was required to cover her entire person, including her hands and face, with a veil.19 The Begam bolstered this position by citing a hadith that stated, “the woman among you who does not stir out of her house will get the rewards of a soldier of God.”20 Furthermore, she maintained that women in early Islamic history followed these injunctions on purdah without question, even as they were active participants in religious and educational activities. Such was evident from the example of Umm-i-Khalid, the wife of one of the Prophet’s companions, who even on the tragic occasion of her son’s martyrdom remembered to wear her veil, commenting, “My son has been martyred but not my modesty.”21 Having established that women were intended to remain in their homes or behind a veil, the Begam of Bhopal turned her attention in the second chapter to two questions: first, how far women should observe purdah within their own houses, and, second, if women were ever permitted to participate in public affairs.22 On the first matter, her reading of the works of Muslim jurists led her to conclude that women may uncover their hands and faces in the house before related males, though not their brothers-in-law, as well as converse with strangers, observe “decent” entertainments, and attend 103

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prayer meetings from behind a curtain.23 The testimony and example of Aisha, the Prophet’s favourite wife, confirmed for the Begam that Muslim women were also permitted lawfully to leave the house for all “religious, educational, political and social duties of the worlds.” In particular, they were allowed to make long journeys if accompanied by a male relative or a large group; take part in scholarly pursuits, including the imparting of knowledge to disciples; participate in wars as nurses on the battlefield; and join religious and national assemblies if separate accommodation was made and there was “no danger of any mischief.” She substantiated this final point by narrating a tradition of the Prophet that stated that his female companions could attend meetings held for “humanitarian and virtuous objects,” if they were “decently dressed and covered.”24 In recognizing these rights, Sultan Jahan Begam fell back in line with that group of modernists, exemplified by Sayyid Mumtaz Ali, who sought to increase women’s public participation without seriously challenging the institution of the veil. When compared with a work like Huquq un-Niswan, however, the Begam’s arguments in these first two chapters seem childishly simplistic. While she did not even purport to be a scholar, Sayyid Mumtaz Ali had received a comprehensive education in the Islamic sciences at the madrasa at Deoband that enabled him to dismantle accepted interpretations of relevant passages from the Qur’an and the hadith on veiling to provide convincing arguments in favour of the reform of existing customs. Next to this rigorous scholarship, the Begam’s work appears less than meticulous. Consider, for instance, their respective interpretations of Qur’anic verses on modesty and mobility (24: 30–1 and 33: 59). The Begam, as noted, asserted without any further evidence that the passages ordered women to wear a full veil over their faces and bodies if they had to go out at all. In making this judgement, she appeared to be drawing on a conversation held with three local luminaries – Shaikh Abdullah, Aftab Ahmed Khan, and Maulvi Nizamuddin Hassan – in the lead up to the inaugural Muslim Ladies’ Conference in Aligarh in 1914. Seemingly as part of her research for the book, she had asked the latter if “casting one’s eyes down” meant that a woman should cover her face when going out. He had confirmed that his commandment was necessary to protect women from teasing.25 Mumtaz Ali, on the other hand, interpreted the language of the verses in the context of their revelation, explaining that the call for women to wear a shawl around their heads and bosoms was actually intended to increase their mobility in a time of uncertainty. In all other circumstances, men and women alike were enjoined to display their modesty by lowering their eyes and covering their private parts. He supported his position by citing respected Islamic jurists such as Abu Hanifa and Abu Yusuf, rather than the unidentified hadith and “popular divines” quoted by the Begam.26 Nevertheless, her focus remained firmly on the need for purdah, not only to protect women from insult and molestation, but also to facilitate the 104

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completion of their “natural duties” – defined as childrearing and household management – within the “four walls of the house.”27 With this statement, the Begam introduced an element of biological determinism to the debate – key also to the arguments of Aligarh reformers as they drew on Victorian models of domesticity – that was to reappear in her writings on women’s rights, as discussed in Chapter 6. Indeed, she went so far as to assert that it was women’s delicate physiques that required them to live a comfortable life in seclusion. To substantiate her point, she reintroduced Nazir Ahmad’s analogy of the bullock cart – previously used to justify female education – claiming that men and women were like two oxen: women, as the weaker, slower animals, were tethered to the less arduous right side of the cart, symbolizing the “easy” task of housekeeping in seclusion, while men took the more strenuous left side that, in this schema, involved the “rough outdoor work” of earning a living.28 The ruling Begam did recognize, however, that there would need to be some flexibility depending on economic circumstances: a poor woman without a latrine would have to go out to relieve herself and earn a living, while a rich woman could stay at home, be treated like a jewel, and be provided for by her husband. Curiously, she also made a distinction on the basis of age and beauty, arguing that it was not so important for “old” and “ugly” women to observe “strict” purdah because their honour was not so threatened.29 This latter somewhat arbitrary point made clear how central the twin concepts of ‘izzat (honour) and sharam (shame) were to the Begam’s justification, rooting it firmly within a South Asian context despite the universal Islamic rhetoric.30 As a counterpoint, the Begam also asserted that that only “evil” could result from the free mixing of the sexes.31 In making this point, she seemed to be relying on her own observations made during a trip to Europe in 1911. She had embarked on this journey full of faith in the liberating effects of British culture, as can be seen from her final invocation in a farewell address to the Princess of Wales Ladies’ Club in Bhopal on the eve of her departure: “may those sailors live long who are trying to take us all from the island of ignorance to the land of knowledge and refinement.”32 Yet she seemed to experience a change of heart after observing British ladies and their lowerclass kinswomen in their own environment, to the extent that she no longer hankered after the level of advancement for Indian women as it had been achieved by women in “the West.” It is worth quoting at length the ruling Begam’s speech to the ladies’ club upon her return in order to illustrate just how far the lack of purdah observance undermined her admiration of European culture: In spite of their education I am not in favour of the freedom enjoyed by women of the West where it has passed certain well-defined lines . . . It is possible that the liberty enjoyed by the women of Europe is suited to the conditions prevailing there; or that it is permitted by the teachings of the 105

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Christian Faith, but for Indian, and especially Muslim ladies, I think such freedom can, under no circumstances, and at no time, be proper . . . Musalman women should never hanker after greater freedom than has been granted them by their religion; a freedom, which, while permitting them the fullest enjoyments of their rights also shields them against all manner of evil.33 Accordingly, she encouraged Indian Muslim women to be selective in their approach to European customs – highlighting her reformist middle ground – by acting on the Arab saying, “Pick up what is good and leave away what is evil.”34 The distinction that Sultan Jahan Begam made between “good” and “evil” in European culture with reference to purdah observance echoed the wider discourse on modernity in colonial India. It was, however, conceptualized in a manner quite different from that of Indian men, who identified a dichotomy between public and private, material and spiritual, that was simply not present in the writings and speeches of the Begam.35 As seen in other chapters of this study, she admired British women, despite their nonobservance of purdah, for their participation in philanthropic movements and their successes in the domestic fields of home teaching and hygiene. Thus, the West did not simply represent materiality to the Begam, as it did in the thinking of male nationalists, nor could distinctions between “inner” and “outer” apply. A similar conceptualization was present in the travel writings of other Indian women. Parvati Athavale, for instance, a Hindu widow who travelled to America in 1918, saw certain “good points” about that culture as being of a domestic nature, including “cleanliness, neatness, home teaching [and] dignity,” while certain “bad points” related to the public domain, specifically “love” marriages and the employment of women outside the home.36 That is not to say, of course, that all Indian female travellers, in a metaphor duly appropriate to my next example, sang from the same hymn sheet. As Meera Kosambi has shown, Pandita Ramabai’s overwhelmingly positive depictions of American social institutions – especially as they related to women’s education, employment, and legal rights – in her United Stateschi Loaksthiti ani Prvasavritta (The People of the United States, 1889) were a far cry from the Begam’s assertions of cultural superiority.37 This brief discussion of Indian women’s travel writing raises the question of purdah in relation to travel. For women in India, travel had been undertaken traditionally for pilgrimage or to visit relatives; travel for the purpose of learning, as it was constructed in Europe according to Rouseauian Romanticism, was relatively unknown. By the late nineteenth century, however, there were a few exceptions. One that is worthy of mention here in that it had connections with Bhopal was that of Atiya Fyzee, who studied at a teachers’ training college in England in 1906–7. She later described her pioneering experiences in a travel account published in 1922 under the 106

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revealing title Zamana-i-Tahsil (A Time of Education).38 Education reports and autobiographies also mention occasional cases of single Muslim girls receiving scholarships to study in England in the 1920s, notably, a Mahmooda Begam from the neighbouring Central Provinces.39 A few Indian Muslim women, like certain Bengali bhadramahila before them, also began accompanying fathers and husbands on holidays or business trips around or out of India in this period, providing the type of companionship expected from women in Western and reformed Indian society. The experiences of Sughra Humayon Mirza, the wife of a prosperous barrister who had studied in England, exemplify this development. She accompanied her husband, Sayyid Humayon Mirza, on several tours of Persia, Arabia, Europe, and India in the early years of the twentieth century, subsequently describing their journeys in published travelogues. In these books, she focussed in particular on the difficulties of travelling within strict purdah, a theme that was to become recurrent in the writings of many Muslim female reformers in years to come.40 In Avarodhbasini, for instance, Rokeya Sakhawat Hossain described an incident in which an aunt had stumbled over her “voluminous” burqa while boarding a train, fallen on the tracks and been killed.41 Sultan Jahan Begam, on the other hand, clearly did not see purdah and travel as mutually exclusive or even problematic; she was a keen traveller herself, not only within India, but also abroad, having undertaken a pilgrimage to the Hijaz in 1903–4, as well as two trips to Europe – one in 1911, the other in 1925–6. The first of these journeys was a practical choice of destination for her first excursion out of India: not only had her grandmother set a precedent by completing it nearly 40 years earlier, but it could also be justified explicitly on the grounds of religious injunctions – hajj being one of the principle articles of the Islamic faith to be completed by every Muslim once in their lifetime, if it can be afforded. It was also validated in the opening pages of the Begam’s travel account in terms of learning and progress. In a passage that demonstrates her debt to both an Islamic heritage and to a European discourse on “civilization,” she wrote: There is a well-known Arab saying that “travel leads to success.” The benefits that the civilised countries of the world have enjoyed by means of travel are everywhere manifest at the present day. The principal causes which have determined the progress of civilisation resolve themselves into an exchange of ideas among the various branches of the human race and the increase of knowledge.42 Yet neither learning nor progress were to get in the way of her observance of purdah on this occasion, as on any other. The Begam was so meticulous about keeping herself in strict seclusion, either behind a veil or a screen, that she was willing to forgo her first opportunity to enter the Prophet’s mosque at Medina along with her son and other male relatives on the basis that 107

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“proper purdah arrangements could not be made at such short notice.”43 In a related incident, she also did not even question the prejudice when the Shaikh of Medina informed her that under no circumstances could women visit the grave of the Prophet.44 Nevertheless, an educational aim, buttressed by the Prophet’s injunction to “see the world,”45 was also part of the justification used by the Begam for her two journeys to Europe. While the first was undertaken ostensibly to attend the coronation of the King-Emperor and Queen-Empress, George V and Mary, and to take her middle son, Obaidullah, for heart treatment at a health spa in Germany, she also raised the issue of knowledge acquisition in the above-quoted farewell speech to the ladies’ club in Bhopal, explaining: [I expect] this journey [will] afford me a great deal of help in the realisation of my chief object – I mean the education and advancement of women. The observation of countries where women are on the same level with men in respect of education and refinement will no doubt yield a great deal of general knowledge which may be made to benefit this country to a great extent.46 To facilitate this process, she visited a number of institutions, both in 1911 and 1925–6, from which she hoped to learn new approaches and methods that could be used to benefit the subjects of her own state. These included a council school in London, St Thomas’ Hospital, the Royal School of Art Needlework, and the Festival of Empire.47 On some of these visits, her daughters-in-law and granddaughters accompanied her, suggesting that, in the Begam’s conception, the benefits of travel were not just open to the ruler of a state, though other ashraf women do appear to have been under greater limitations. At a meeting with the Queen Mother, Alexandra, at Buckingham Palace, the visiting Begam provided evidence of this stance by explaining that her daughters-in-law, Shaharyar Dulhan and Maimoona Sultan, were not in attendance because they were not permitted to move around in a burqa in the way that she was as a “Ruling Chief.”48 Another point to be drawn out with regard to Sultan Jahan Begam’s experiences of travel was that, in the above-quoted speech to the ladies’ club given upon her return from Europe in 1912, she followed up her critique of Western women’s “freedom” by begging her audience not to follow the example of the Turkish women she had also observed while abroad. These women, she warned, had abandoned Islamic injunctions and tarnished their honour by adopting from their European neighbours, not only an interest in education, but also a desire for “unlimited freedom.”49 Her daughter-in-law, Maimoona Sultan, expanded upon this critique in her European travelogue, reporting on how her esteemed mother-in-law had been disappointed with the Turk’s “remissiveness” with regard to religion, as exemplified by their womenfolk’s abandonment of their traditional way of life behind the purdah 108

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for the “freedom” of European dress and lifestyle.50 In criticizing Turkish women’s behaviour, the ruling Begam placed herself in firm opposition to the Turkists’ programme of Westernization – associated with the introduction of political and economic mechanisms from Europe as well as the social aspects of European culture – as it had been initiated in the declining Ottoman Empire following the Young Turk revolt of 1908. This process had signified a major change in the lives of Turkish women as they were urged, not only to receive an education, but also to abandon the veil, enter the professions, and participate in political activities. In a rejection of customary family law, polygamy and arranged marriages were also discouraged. Turkish reformers, such as Halil Hamit and Celal Nuri, justified these changes on the basis that they were in accordance with a scriptural Islam cleansed of local custom.51 But to the Begam of Bhopal, their revisionism appeared only as a slavish imitation of “the West” that was to be strongly deplored. In taking this stance, the Begam’s writings and speeches on purdah strike the modern reader as identifiably Islamist – though it was not until 1935 that South Asia’s ideologue of the contemporary Islamic revival, Syed Abul A’la Maududi (1903–1979), published the articles that were to make up his comparable Purdah and the Status of Women in Islam.52 Like him, the Begam was also concerned to highlight in Al-Hijab the negative effects of non-observance of purdah in Europe and North America, chastising supporters of the movement against purdah – the “Oriental Occidentals,” as Maududi later called them53 – for aping European manners and customs without thorough consideration of the consequence. The colonial power, she asserted, may be “superior to us [Indians] in wealth and culture, knowledge and justice and many other noble virtues and good qualities,” but the free intercourse of the sexes was a “blot on the escutcheon of Western civilisation.”54 To reinforce her point, she quoted, not only legal and religious texts, but also newspaper accounts, medical reports, criminal investigations, and sociological treatises written by Europeans and Americans themselves that told of the degraded moral character of their societies resulting from women’s increased public role. Among those authors that she sought to make available to her readership – having explained that she only read and quoted those “comparatively less offensive” works deemed suitable for Muslim women55 – were the French sociologist, Gustave le Bon, the American travel writer, Elizabeth Cooper, and the British suffragist, Lady Frances Balfour. Typical of these quotations was the following passage from an article by Muhammad Alexander Russell Webb (1846–1916), an American convert to Islam, as published in the Woking mosque’s Islamic Review: “take up the newspapers and see the records of divorces, social scandals, and marital woes that fill us with shame and disgust and then tell me that these . . . laws and customs are good things.”56 Examples from the West, in conjunction with instances from Islamic 109

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history, were also used when Sultan Jahan Begam turned to refuting the opponents of purdah in the final chapter of her treatise. Missionaries, government officers, educated Muslims, and Indian nationalists had, she asserted, levelled a wide variety of accusations at the custom, the most damaging of which were that purdah was detrimental to women’s health, education, prosperity, and patriotism. The Begam addressed the economic issue first, claiming that articles in any newspaper in Europe or North America would provide evidence of how working women experienced “drudgery,” “unhealthiness,” and attacks to their honour, while failing to gain access to abundant wealth. Purdahnashin, on the other hand, received all “comforts and conveniences” from their husbands, who were virtually slaves to their well-being. According to the Begam, the contention that purdah was not conducive to good health was equally false, since there was no evidence that “impure” household air was causing Muslim women to weaken and die out. On the contrary, in her opinion, seclusion actually improved women’s health by protecting them from contagious diseases and giving them the opportunity to do five or six hours of exercise each day in the form of “vigorous household work.”57 Not for her was the Orientalist’s vision of the zenana as a place of either dangerous overwork or idle luxury. A third rebuttal was directed at Indian nationalists who, the Begam asserted, argued that women needed to be emancipated in order to display their patriotism. Just as they evoked instances from the “golden age” of Indian history to support their position, so she, too, used the past – though in a more local and recent form – quoting the example of women’s heroic defence of Bhopal city in 1812 during the siege by the Marathas (see Chapter 1). Specifically, she claimed that this occasion proved that women in purdah were actually more patriotic than their unveiled countrywomen because they were able to guard Islamic morals along with the city. The Begam’s argument suggests that her patriotism was conceived rather differently from those nationalists she sought to rebuff, being that it was directed, on this occasion at least, at a smaller territorial entity in the form of a princely state – and one imbued with an Islamic essence.58 Turning to education, Sultan Jahan Begam also refuted the assertion that purdah was a hindrance to higher education for women by making reference to recent examples of Muslim girls passing university examinations. Though she was not specific as to names or places, it seems that she was referring specifically to the admirable performances by students of the Sultania Girls’ School in Bhopal in the middle-school examinations of the Allahabad University in the year that the text was written (see Chapter 3). Again anticipating the more well-known writings of Maududi, published nearly two decades later, she also maintained that a higher educational standard for women in coeducational institutions was not worth the grave societal problems, including increased rates of divorce and illegitimate births, that had accompanied the development in Europe.59 These links between theory and practice, as 110

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they led to the institutionalization of purdah in this period, will be explored further in the following section.

Institutionalizing purdah It has been seen already in this study how girls’ schooling, particularly among ashraf Muslims, reinforced purdah observance by making covered conveyances and segregated boarding houses, as well as a curriculum with a clearly domestic focus, a key aspect of a schoolgirl’s experience. Having graduated from a purdah girls’ school, young women were then expected to put their newly acquired skills in bookkeeping, needlework, and childrearing to good use by getting married and bearing children in a way that would, from within the four walls of the home, help strengthen the struggling Muslim qaum. Models were provided, as seen in the first chapter, in the form of veiled fictional paragons – for example, Nazir Ahmad’s Asghari and Hali’s Zubaida Khatun – as well as a few real women, such as Muhammadi Begam, the wife of Sayyid Mumtaz Ali, who was considered to be the ideal of the “new” Muslim woman. Remaining in purdah, she prayed five times a day, ran an efficient home, and cared for the children, as well as offering companionship to her husband by assisting him with his life’s work, specifically, the Urdu women’s journal, Tahzib un-Niswan, of which she was editor.60 Her premature death in 1908 suggests the strain that this lifestyle took on her health, but, for women not married to a Mumtaz Ali – or not born to rule a state, as was the case with the Begams of Bhopal – there was the ongoing problem of a lack of intellectual stimulation within the home. As had become clear in Europe a few years earlier, it was simply not realistic to educate a girl and then expect her to live the same sheltered existence that she would have done before. The reformer’s response was not to send women outside the home into the world of paid employment, but to supplement schooling with other educational initiatives and philanthropic activities that allowed purdah to be maintained and even strengthened. Sultan Jahan Begam proved herself to be especially sensitive to this growing need among purdahnashin for cerebral challenges and contact with the world outside the home, noting in her autobiography: “having created in my subjects a thirst for knowledge, it [was] only right that I should furnish them with the means of satisfying that thirst.”61 A first effort in this direction was her establishment of both a library and a museum in Bhopal city between 1909 and 1912, the latter of which was evidently to be used on a regular basis by women in a way that enforced segregation in that it was open exclusively to purdah ladies on Wednesdays and included a walled purdah garden in the grounds. A library had, in fact, existed in the city since the last years of Shah Jahan Begam’s reign, but it was not until this time that it was formerly launched as the Hamidia Library (in recognition of Hamidullah’s contribution to its upkeep) and provided with a suitable building where provision was 111

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made for the extensive oriental and English-language collections and a public reading room. A trained librarian, Mr B. Ghosal, was appointed to care for the collection and to compile a catalogue with the assistance of staff from the Bodleian Library in Oxford, thus signifying the adoption of British practices.62 He was similarly placed in charge of the King Edward Museum, another institution run on “modern methods,” which was opened exclusively to purdah ladies during special all-India women’s events in the city. Though it claimed to be a “thoroughly representative provincial museum,”63 it housed very few items of interest to female visitors – according to Begam Humayon Mirza who visited from Hyderabad in 1918 – beyond a life-sized embroidered portrait of the ruling Begam.64 Her observations indicate that, even as purdah was removed as a barrier, there was more to satisfying a female clientele than just access. Like Mumtaz Ali, Sultan Jahan Begam also started an Urdu women’s journal in Bhopal, Zil us-Sultan – as referred to in the introduction to this and the previous chapter – that was, somewhat incongruously, under the editorship of a favoured male employee in the state’s civil service, Muhammad Amin Zuberi. Founded in 1913, it had the explicit aim of preserving and extending fragile literacy skills among recently educated women in purdah, thus perpetuating purdah as an institution by providing suitable and informative reading material to its adherents at a time when there was still little available. The extension to women’s sphere of activities within those boundaries may be seen, however, in that, following the model of Khatun from Aligarh, the content included notices of women’s meetings and girls’ schools, speeches by the ruling Begam and prominent Aligarh reformers, and reports on various educational conferences, as well as articles on female education, women’s health issues and Islam, biographical accounts of exemplary women, short book reviews, and a plethora of advertisements. That the project was well received by women of the state is suggested by the fact that they not only paid the nominal fee to subscribe to the journal, but also contributed articles for publication, though most of the features seem to have been submitted by women outside Bhopal. Either way, their reaction suggests that Zil us-Sultan, like other women’s journals, including Tahzib un-Niswan and ‘Ismat, was valued by purdahnashin both as a source of information and as an outlet for self-expression, a dual purpose that allowed it to continue publication on a monthly basis until the early 1930s when the project folded – apparently as a result of the death of Sultan Jahan Begam and the subsequent dismissal of Zuberi.65 A fourth initiative that contributed to the institutionalization of purdah – and one that has also been referred to on a number of occasions – was a social club for purdahnashin, established in Bhopal city in 1909 and named after the Princess of Wales, who the ruling Begam had recently met at Indore. In her autobiography, she justified the founding of this institution by expressing her belief that the minds of women could be developed, not just by formal 112

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schooling and directed reading, but also by “social intercourse,” “good company,” and “pleasant surroundings.”66 This idea had long been accepted in Europe where ladies’ societies and clubs had been an enduring feature of public life at least since the eighteenth century, bringing women of that continent both amusement and intellectual benefit.67 From the late nineteenth century, elite women in Egypt had also taken up the idea, arranging informal salons to discuss “the woman question” and patronizing learned societies intended to give veiled women and girls the chance to discuss scientific and literary topics.68 The Begam of Bhopal realized that Indian women, who lived within even stricter confines than their co-religionists in the Middle East, had few such opportunities. Though a Hyderabad Ladies’ Association had been founded as early as 1901 by a group of European and local women in that largest of India’s Muslim princely states, it was not until 1913 that an Anjuman-i-Khawatin-i-Islam was established there to operate strictly within the dictates of Islam.69 Similarly, a club for Muslim women had been started in Lahore in 1907, but, according to the autobiography of Jahan Ara Shahnawaz, it had a very small member base, being limited to women of the Mian family only.70 What Bhopali women needed, then, was a localized institution that could bring “light and new ideas” into their minds and “new interests” into their secluded lives, thus providing a “delightful change” after the “hard duties of the household.”71 Realizing that such an unprecedented endeavour could face a good deal of prejudice, Sultan Jahan Begam decided to limit the Princess of Wales Ladies’ Club, in the first instance, to a highly elite clientele consisting of the women of her own family, the female relatives of Bhopal’s gentry and officers of the state, and certain European and Indian Christian women: the ashraf and honorary ashraf of Bhopal society, if you will. They made up the 121 members listed on the club rolls after the lavish opening ceremony presided over by the Vicereine, Lady Minto, in November 1909, though only about 20 were regular in their attendance in the first three years.72 The Begam’s own niece, Aftab Begam, who had been educated under her personal supervision, was appointed initially to the demanding post of secretary, later to be replaced by the educationalist, Abru Begam. Sultan Jahan Begam herself chose the title of patroness. To fulfil and even enhance the purdah and status requirements of this privileged group, the club was set up in Ali Manzil, a hall and garden attached to one of Shah Jahan Begam’s former palaces that was surrounded by a high wall. The hall was also equipped with comfortable furniture and “modern” conveniences, including electric fans, making it a fitting spot for meetings, while the garden was lush and secluded, providing requisite space for games and amusements in the English model. The educational and sporting element of this initiative, as it represented an important modification to women’s former activities within purdah, may also be seen in that the area contained a small library, tennis and badminton courts, and wooden stalls for exhibitions and fancy bazaars.73 While this 113

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membership and setting may encourage some readers to dismiss the ladies’ club as mere frivolous entertainment for the affluent classes, the significance of using seclusion to bring Muslim women together for the purpose of learning, as well as philanthropy and women’s activism as it turned out, should not be underestimated. Some of the specific activities relating to health and women’s rights pursued under the auspices of the Princess of Wales Ladies’ Club will be discussed in later chapters, but it is worth noting here that – as if to justify this foray by elite Muslim women into an albeit segregated public environment – the educational aim remained paramount. From the outset, it was specified that members should give talks to those in attendance on “subjects of feminine interest,” with Sultan Jahan Begam herself inaugurating the practice by giving as many as 52 lectures – some of which have been quoted already – in the first decade of the club’s existence. Her topics ranged from morality and patriotism to housekeeping and hygiene, and several of her lecture series were subsequently gathered into printed collections that were sent to libraries all over India.74 That Bhopali women attending the club were, conversely, made aware of events in other parts of the subcontinent in a way that broadened their perspective far beyond the bounds imposed on an earlier generation is indicated in that Shaharyar Dulhan, the wife of Obaidullah Khan, encouraged members to draw on information found in newspapers and journals hailing from the United Provinces and Punjab, including the Pioneer, Awadh Akhbar, and Tahzib un-Niswan, to give “useful” speeches at the club that could assist in the regeneration of “all mankind.”75 The ruling Begam, too, encouraged members of the club to develop their own essaywriting and speech-giving skills by setting topics each week and offering a prize for the best piece of writing. Her youngest daughter-in-law, Maimoona Sultan, was especially active in this field, giving several lectures on hygiene, charity, and other topics that are discussed in later chapters. Other royal daughters-in-law, Shaharyar Dulhan and Qaisar Dulhan, also spoke occasionally in the early years of the club, as did other women of the ruling family and employees of the state, notably Mrs Baksh.76 This ritual of public speaking followed by publication became a central feature of new women’s societies across the Muslim world, not only strengthening the social and intellectual bonds of the women involved, but also linking oral and written traditions within the new literary culture.77 Though elite Muslim women dominated the ladies’ club, they also sought to open it up to other women through a series of “extraordinary” meetings that saw strict purdah norms being enforced on all those in attendance, regardless of their own practice. On the occasion of the club’s anniversary in 1920, for example, as many as 1,100 women of “all classes and communities” were welcomed – particularly from its sister institution, the Davis Ladies’ Club in Sehore, and girls’ schools in the state – for the purpose of lectures, medal presentations, and even a cinema show in a completely segregated 114

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environment.78 A year later, gala celebrations were also held over two weeks to celebrate the twentieth anniversary of the ruling Begam’s accession to the throne, a women-only event that included a lecture series, an essay-writing contest, and a sports tournament. That participants came from different socio-cultural groupings – as they were being defined in this period with regard to language – is apparent in that, in the dictation competition, medals were awarded for “correctness and good handwriting” to three Muslim women for Urdu dictation and two Hindu women for Hindi dictation. Similarly, at the essay-writing competition, medals were given to several Muslim and Hindu women, though the pre-eminent figure was Zehra Fyzee, who won a prize for her writings on each of the three topics.79 Her success in this contest is not surprising if one considers that she was a regular contributor to women’s journals, including Khatun and ‘Ismat, as well as the author of several books,80 but it does reinforce the idea of an interrelationship between purdah events in Bhopal and a national literary culture. The continuing domestic focus paired with economic considerations was also evident in that competitors were asked to write on such topics as how women could take care of their families on a limited income, what industries could be conducted by women in their homes, and what the best job was for a woman within her home.81 To facilitate these types of gatherings, Sultan Jahan Begam also launched another purdah institution in Bhopal, one to which she appears to have been introduced during her second trip to Europe in 1925–6. On that occasion, Maimoona Sultan’s three young daughters were enrolled as Girl Guides in London – a move that revealed their ageing grandmother’s growing penchant to blend European and Islamic ideas. Specifically, on Poppy Day, the girls were sent on to the street with cans of red flowers to collect money for war veterans – and wearing, to their embarrassment, an augmented uniform. As the ageing Begam considered the highland kilts and long socks that were the uniform of the poppy sellers to be “un-Islamic” as they left bare the knees, the girls were ordered to also wear pajamas (tight trousers) and a head covering – a show of cross-cultural mixing that delighted the local press.82 On their return to Bhopal, the now Dowager Begam built on this initiative by ordering her daughter-in-law and Miss Oliphant, the former British governess who was also involved with the Asfia Technical School, to establish a pack of purdah Girl Guides in the city. Having adopted a more indigenous uniform of khaki-coloured kurta, pajamas, and dupatta, the latter to be tucked into the belt, they provided an invaluable service to the purdah women of Bhopal by organizing and controlling various segregated events, including baby shows, mina bazaars, and sports tournaments.83 Though there is no direct evidence as to why Sultan Jahan Begam favoured this imperial institution, it may be conjectured from the writings of other Muslim female reformers that the Girl Guide movement was seen to have a domestic focus that was conducive to purdah and with which she would have been 115

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sympathetic: it was understood to teach “house-craft” and prepare girls for motherhood, not least by developing physical stamina.84 It should be noted that Bhopali women were also involved in national women’s organizations and events that played a key role in codifying seclusion among Indian Muslim women in this period. For instance, purdah arrangements at the March 1914 inaugural meeting of the Anjuman-iKhawatin-i-Islam in Aligarh, presided over by the Begam of Bhopal, were extremely rigorous, even though certain women in attendance, notably Atiya and Zehra Fyzee, were in the process of reducing restrictions on their movement. Not only was the walled hostel of the Aligarh Zenana Madrasa where it was held closed to men, but women delegates were only permitted to move around the city in closed conveyances. These procedures, as organized by local educationalist, Shaikh Abdullah – who had plenty of experience of them through his school – were obviously considered to be best for the reputation of the fledgling conference, but they also guaranteed that women were at the forefront of running the event.85 The same observation may be made of the All-India Ladies’ Art Exhibition, held just a week later in Bhopal with the aim of giving Indian women the opportunity to have their impressive handiwork publicly appreciated, judged, and sold for profit. Occurring over ten days, it proved hugely successful. There were over 1,600 exhibits from nearly 300 different places in India, and it attracted a large number of secluded women, from Bhopal and elsewhere, who would have rarely attended functions outside their homes. They appear to have been enticed to the event by assurances in the exhibition handbook that strict purdah would be observed, a policy that was confirmed at the grand opening when only women were permitted to take part in the ceremony. Even male members of the Managing Committee, who had been asked to attend, were required to stand outside in a sort of reverse purdah.86 For the first five-and-a-half days, the event continued to be open exclusively to women, and opportunities were made for them, not only to examine the exhibits, but also to meet for various social functions such as garden parties and games’ afternoons. On other days, there were special entertainments, including magic-lantern displays, music concerts, fancy-dress shows, and table-laying competitions, all of which reflected the way in which purdah life was changing in the colonial milieu.87 Previous women’s industrial exhibitions, as held at Aligarh and Allahabad in connection with male-dominated events, had not so thoroughly addressed women’s needs, and inadequate purdah arrangements had prevented them from viewing the exhibits properly or attending related functions. The autonomous nature of women’s activities in Bhopal precluded such restrictions on female involvement, with women’s access, in fact, being made the paramount concern through the institutionalization of purdah. Of course, the strong emphasis on the maintenance of purdah does suggest the limitations, as well as the advantages, of this gathering in Bhopal. Though geographically diverse, most of the women 116

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involved were of the ashraf class, which continued to wear the veil as a symbol of their socio-economic status and Muslim identity. Still, this insistence on a separate female sphere allowed women to take leadership roles, learn organizational skills and, as discussed in Chapter 6, build an all-India network that prepared them, somewhat paradoxically, for more overtly political activity in the future. It also provided a forum from which women of the next generation could press for more radical change, though, as will be seen in the following section, this process was not without contestation.

Bridging generations The issue of generational conflict is one that, while sorely neglected in the literature on India, has been taken up with regard to women’s movements in Europe and North America in the wake of Julia Kristeva’s important essay, “Women’s Time,” first published in 1979. In it, she advanced a model for women’s movements in which she distinguished between two different generations of women’s activists: one that sought to remain within the bounds of male constructs by demanding equal rights with men and the other that, at the least, sought to push those bounds by insisting on women’s essential difference. This second group was also responsible for introducing the idea of time to the debate in that they refused to accept the “linear temporality” of history and politics.88 Accordingly, Kristeva posited that the difference between generations was, not so much one of age, but rather one of occupying different “signifying space.”89 Later authors, in turn, pointed to equally important, though very different generational conflicts. In Worlds of Women, for instance, Leila J. Rupp explores the way in which the “primarily elite, Christian, older, European-origin women” who dominated international women’s organizations in the early twentieth century were unable to attract “new blood” in light of the proliferation of mixed-sex organizations, whether nationalist or internationalist, in the 1920s and 1930s.90 The issue of purdah, in being so vigorously debated at early national women’s meetings in India, is useful for providing insight into the workings of generations among Indian Muslim women in roughly the same period. As was noted in connection with the resolution on purdah in the conference proceedings of the inaugural meeting of the All India Ladies’ Association in Bhopal in 1918, “No resolution was so warmly supported, none so bitterly attacked.”91 It was Sughra Humayon Mirza, the above-mentioned author of several travel narratives and editor of the Hyderabad women’s journal, un-Nisa,92 that presented this controversial resolution on purdah. It stated that, in the opinion of the conference, the existing form of purdah in India should be reduced in its severity so that it was no longer a barrier to women’s educational and cultural advancement. For Muslim women, this statement was interpreted to mean that the stringency of the purdah system should not go beyond the limits enjoined by their religion.93 Though fairly young at the 117

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time of the conference (she was only 34), Begam Humayon Mirza had already proven herself to be a strong proponent of this position, fearlessly speaking out against what she referred to as the “false” purdah system in the introductory pages of her travelogue, Roznamchah Safar Bhopal (Diary of a Journey to Bhopal).94 She developed these sentiments in her conference address, claiming that purdah, as it was prevalent in India, was responsible for keeping Indian Muslim women more ignorant than their Hindu and Middle Eastern sisters. Even in costly zenana madrasas, Muslim women could not gain the wideness of vision required by women of their age. They needed the opportunity, not only to receive a school education, but also to learn from experience: to travel by trains and ships, to hear the lectures of learned scholars, to visit forests and fields. Taking an incremental approach that would have appealed to the Begam of Bhopal as the conference’s patron, Begam Humayon Mirza assured her audience that she did not intend for Muslim women to follow the example of European women and abandon purdah altogether. Rather, she was advocating a return to what was practised during the early days of Islam when women had been given the freedom to accompany their menfolk onto the battlefield, participate in public meetings, and attend religious services. Certain gifted women, she claimed, had even acquired knowledge of the highest order on religious and secular subjects about which they wrote and taught to male and female disciples. This conduct, according to the Begam, was in-keeping with the Qur’an, since all it said about purdah was that both men and women should refrain from seeing each other with bad intentions. She went on to explain that, in other Muslim countries, such as Morocco, Egypt, Turkey, and Arabia, this passage had been interpreted to mean that, when women left the house, they should wear a baggy cloak and a shawl over their heads. Beyond this modest attire, there was no restriction on their movement. Indian women, in contrast, were treated like prisoners, without any feelings or opinions. They were deprived of education, physical exercise, and fresh air to such an extent that, not only their own minds and bodies were weakened, but also those of their progeny. Clearly, the Begam submitted, the time had come for them to establish a more Islamic system in India, one with which they could all live comfortably.95 Notably, these arguments were identical to those advanced by various women, including Begam Humayon Mirza herself, in women’s journals and meetings of the All-India Muslim Ladies’ Conference in the same period.96 In light of these comparisons, it is probably not surprising that Begam Humayon Mirza’s lengthy speech was supported enthusiastically by a number of other young women at the conference. In particular, Begam Anis Hamid and Husn Ara Begam, both of Bhopal, reiterated the claim that education unhampered by purdah was essential for women of the Muslim community. “Ignorant mothers meant ignorant children,” they asserted, “and purdah meant ignorant mothers.”97 Their message paralleled that of 118

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more radical male reformers, including Syed Ameer Ali and Sayyid Mumtaz Ali, as expressed the late nineteenth century. But that Muslim women themselves were now expressing these same opinions in a respectable public forum indicates that the movement for women’s rights was, indeed, advancing on to another stage. At the same time, however, progress was curbed by more cautious reformers of an earlier age – a case in point being Abru Begam, then secretary of the ladies’ club in Bhopal, who virulently denounced the purdah resolution. She contended that the presence at their gathering of so many learned purdahnashin proved that education was being adequately supplied in zenana schools, such as those available in Bhopal and Aligarh. Since education could be carried on behind the existing purdah, what was the purpose, she asked, of reducing its restrictiveness?98 Her conservative approach may be attributed to her comprehensive education in the Islamic sciences (see Chapter 2), which meant that, in Kristeva’s language, she occupied a different “signifying space,” regardless of her biological age – indeed, she was actually two years younger than Begam Humayon Mirza. The strength of her position was confirmed in that she received support for her stance on purdah from her sister, Fatima Begam, as well as from the Begam Sahiba of Pathari and Mrs Matinuzzaman of Bhopal.99 Sarojini Naidu, perhaps the most eminent delegate at the conference besides the Begam of Bhopal herself, commented privately to Begam Humayon Mirza that it was a terrible pity that Muslim women were so divided over demanding their rights.100 Yet this conflict was one of the defining features of the conference. It signified that a small group of assertive young women was emerging to build on the gains achieved by pioneering male and female activists of an earlier generation. Like them, they remained, for the most part, within the bounds of Islam, but pushed societal norms beyond conventional understandings. More traditionally minded women, like Abru Begam, scorned such revisionism. This generational gap was perhaps best articulated by Sarojini Naidu herself in a speech given at the Kanya Mahavidyalaya (Girls’ Higher School) in Jalandhar just days after the conference. In it she dismissed many of her fellow delegates as “old matrons” before identifying that a few of their “daughters” were ensuring that changes were “in the air.”101 These comments suggest that generations were defined rather differently in this Indian, and particularly Islamic, milieu than they were in Europe or North America in the late twentieth century. In a reversal of Kristeva’s model, it was the first generation that reinforced notions of gender difference and the second that demanded more equal rights with men. Some parallels may be drawn, however, with Rupp’s analysis of the international women’s movement in the 1920s and 1930s in that it was representatives of an earlier era that were committed to a separate women’s sphere, while those of the next generation were seeking to push the boundaries. Sultan Jahan Begam herself, having enabled the meeting to occur in the first place, was eager to unite opinion on the divisive purdah resolution. In a 119

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special address read out by Maimoona Sultan, she dictated that, as the existing purdah system was not in-keeping with the scriptural sources of Islam, the women in India should adopt a less rigid form of purdah, like that practised in Arabia – by which she seemed to mean moving about freely in some form of burqa.102 This interpretation was certainly more liberal than that promoted in her treatise on purdah (discussed above), but it did fit with certain contradictory opinions expressed in other forums. In her biography of her great-grandmother, for instance, she had recognized that purdah had “certain advantages” due to the “condition[s]” in India, but that it was “not prescribed either by God or the Prophet.” “Religious doctrine,” she had declared unequivocally, “does not enjoin such rigid adherence to the rules which have now become the custom.”103 Her articulation of this stance on the occasion of the conference suggests that, within the schema of generational conflict, she fulfilled a somewhat intermediary role. She firmly belonged to an earlier era on account of her age (she was nearly 60), yet she sought to bridge the gap to the next generation by justifying their more radical ideas on the basis of religious injunctions. This use of religion was significant in that it allowed her to unite two generations behind one symbolic order in which women were united by their biological functions. Sarojini Naidu recognized this contribution when she commented in the above speech that the Begam of Bhopal – a “very conservative lady” herself – had inspired those same “old matrons” to come around to a more progressive stance that recognized younger women’s demands.104 That Sultan Jahan Begam’s position on the veil was actually changing to satisfy some of the demands of the next generation is confirmed by her increasingly liberal attitude to contact between her female dependents and European society during trips abroad. In her account of their first journey to Europe in 1911, Maimoona Sultan noted that, though she had travelled to Marseille, Paris, London, and other cities, she had seen little more than the inside of hotels being because her powerful mother-in-law would not permit her to sightsee or attend social functions, even in a curtained vehicle or burqa, for fear that she would have her purdah broken by a photographer.105 However, by the time the ruling Begam arrived in London to fight the succession dispute in 1925, she seemed to have realized that she could not keep her young charges from the “modern world.”106 Accordingly, they travelled around London by bus, Underground, and bicycle to amusement parks, cinemas, theatres, and shops. Their activities, including official outings with the Begam, were all photographed freely and reported on in local newspapers, including the tabloids, which were fascinated by the veiled queen and her lively companions.107 A film of the ruling Begam visiting the Woking mosque in Surrey even appeared on Pathé newsreels.108 That the ageing Begam herself was influenced by the behaviour of her daughter-inlaw and granddaughters is suggested in that she abandoned the formal interviews that had characterized social interaction during her first London visit 120

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in favour of friendly gatherings and spontaneous activities in the 1920s. In particular, she socialized regularly with the wives of former British officials in India, as well as with a motley assortment of other women (among them a “Countess Tomato”), holding soirées, often in her bedroom, taking lessons in the harp and violin, and even attending the cinema.109 Nevertheless, upon their return from Europe in 1926, Sultan Jahan Begam still sought to introduce her eldest granddaughter, Abida Sultaan, to the habit of wearing the veil, forcing the young girl to wear one of her mother’s burqas when disembarking in Bombay and travelling back to Bhopal state. Abida’s feelings on this occasion are described in her memoirs with characteristic candour: Purdah was a cruel blow . . . No effort had been made to mentally prepare an athletic, outdoor girl like me for a life long incarceration behind the veil. I wondered what the meaning was of all the emphasis and pride in making us ride, drive cars, play rough games, shoot and be constantly reminded that we had to prove ourselves better than our ‘backward’ male cousins, if it was all to end abruptly at the age of twelve behind a burqa?110 In light of this description, it is perhaps not surprising that she rebelled against the constraining custom after just a few months, resuming her earlier active lifestyle despite the threat of her grandmother’s wrath. In this decision, she, like Jahanara Shah Nawaz before her, was supported by her liberal-minded father, Hamidullah Khan, who explained to his mother that he did not want his three bright daughters growing up in seclusion – with the effect that neither of his two younger daughters, Sajida and Rabia, ever observed purdah.111 His wife, too, began removing her veil – though only after she had left the sight of her austere mother-in-law – during their second trip to Europe so that she, like the Maharani of Cooch Behar and her other princely friends, could enjoy properly the amusements of London society. These “vacations from purdah,” as undertaken by Egyptian women from the late nineteenth century, continued until 1928 when Maimoona gave up the practice of purdah entirely, openly attending public functions in India and Europe.112 The elderly Dowager Begam appears to have been influenced by her family’s changing views on the practice of seclusion for she also began to question the institution that she had defended so forcibly throughout her life. In her presidential address to the All-India Women’s Conference in 1928, for instance, she made a bold pronouncement against the system, blaming it – in a reversal of her stance in Al-Hijab – for holding back the advance of female education in India. As she declared: I have no hesitation to own that the purdah system as it is observed among Muslims of India is not exactly Islamic and is indeed very harmful 121

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to the progress of education among our girls. It is a hindrance moreover in the way of their physical and mental development. The Musalmans should coolly and calmly reflect and decide whether by respecting a mere custom they would keep their women in a state of suspended animation, whether they would sacrifice the prospect of their future generations at the altar of blind prejudice.113 Then, in 1929, just a year before her death, Sultan Jahan Begam abandoned the veil herself, meeting British male officials and Bhopali subjects face-toface for the first time in her life. Evidently, she had realized that new times demanded a new example for her subjects. India was rapidly changing and, with it, the female population. Women now needed a more comprehensive education than was available behind the purdah.114 This justification highlights the way in which the Begam acted as an intermediary between an older generation, eager to protect the veil as an important symbol of the privileged and distinct status of Muslim women, and a new one seeking to challenge conventional norms relating to purdah.

Conclusions Sultan Jahan Begam had begun her reign in 1901 with the bold pronouncement that she would rule from behind the purdah, but, by her death in 1930, neither she, nor Maimoona Sultan, her successor as Begam of Bhopal, nor the new heir-apparent, Abida Sultaan, continued to wear the veil. Whether other Muslim women in the state had, as yet, begun to follow their example is unknown, but there seems little doubt that their sphere of activity had been extended beyond anything that could have been imagined just a few years before. Though the ruling Begam had, for the most part, proven herself to be a staunch advocate of the purdah system, declaring unequivocally that purdah was necessary, she had interpreted this to mean that Muslim women were free to travel and study, join conferences and meetings, and even fight in battles, according to Islamic law. Not only were national women’s meetings in purdah organized and attended by women from the state, but Bhopal also became home to a plethora of purdah institutions, including girls’ schools, a library and museum, a women’s journal, and a social club that provided, in Papanek’s terms, a “separate world” in which women could take on new roles and challenges outside the home. Somewhat paradoxically, it was also in these forums that debates began to occur among Indian Muslim women as to what was actually required by Islam in terms of veiling and seclusion, many younger women coming to the conclusion that more mobility and less coverage was acceptable as long as modesty was retained. In coming to advocate this position in theory and practice by the 1920s, the by then ageing Begam represented a bridge to the next generation. Sultan Jahan Begam’s seeming volte face on the veil, then, was, in fact, the 122

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culmination of a long process of gradual change by which she portrayed herself as an avowed protector of orthodox Muslim society in order to challenge the bounds of female respectability by asserting that women could take part in public affairs, first behind the veil, and then without it. Looking at her pronouncements and activities over the period as a whole, the effect of this approach is that she sometimes appeared as a staunch defender of Islamic tradition, sometimes spoke and acted like one set of modernists and then another, and sometimes made Islamist-style arguments even before they had been formulated by the accepted ideologues. In referencing this wide array of exemplars and thinkers, she and other Indian Muslim women were able to fashion a space for the female voice within the existing reformist discourse and further the process of women’s emancipation in a way that never would have been possible had they called for radical change directly. Rokeya Sakhawat Hossain’s Avarodhbasini is instructive as a comparison in that many of her fellow Muslims reacted to her tales of purdah with shock, embarrassment, and, ultimately, outrage, claiming that she had been influenced by foreign ideas and was publicizing matters that ought to have been kept private.115 Perhaps even more devastating was the apathy that greeted Sayyid Mumtaz Ali’s erudite treatise, Huquq un-Niswan, causing it to, in Minault’s language, produce “a few ripples,” then quickly go out of print.116 Within this process, the Begam of Bhopal’s status as a princely ruler must also not be underestimated. Not only did she and her family set an example for the women of her state and elsewhere, but her female-dominated court also provided a unique location in which to try out new ideas on veiling and purdah institutions that could then be exported to other parts of India by way of women’s journals and national women’s events and organizations. The paradox, of course, was that these same institutions provided Muslim women with literary skills, leadership opportunities, and political acumen that, in time, were directed at the kind of activities never envisioned by the ruling Begam – not least nationalism and more explicitly feminist causes. The conflicting legacies of these pasts may be seen in that, in Bhopal today, women of the former ruling family do not wear the veil – beyond a fashionable dupatta – but the observance of purdah, as elsewhere in South Asia and the Islamic world, remains a contentious issue, distinguishing women of different generations, classes, and communities. As Doranne Jacobson has documented in her important anthropological studies of the region, a wide spectrum of customs is now observed, ranging from that of young college girls and working women, especially in the cities, who have abandoned purdah altogether, labelling it “backward” and “ignorant,” to that of the wives of status-conscious men, whether landowners or beggars, who remain in strict seclusion, leaving their homes only rarely in shrouded tongas to visit relatives or attend religious festivals.117 In the alleyways of old Bhopal city, though, the Turkish-style burqa introduced during the reign of the last Begam is still a common sight. 123

5 MEDICINE AND MOTHERHOOD

It only takes a glance through the Urdu women’s journal, Zil us-sultan, published in Bhopal from 1913, to recognize Muslim women’s preoccupation with health issues in early twentieth-century India. In one edition in 1918, there were a number of features relating to yunani tibb, including a review of a book by a yunani practitioner, or hakim, from Kanpur, who was recommended for writing in the style of physicians from Bhopal and Lucknow, as well as a regular column detailing simple remedies that could be applied in the home. The advertisements are also revealing in that they promoted the use of patent medicines from a yunani pharmacy established in Delhi in 1910 as an adjunct to the Sharifi family’s Madrasa-i-tibbiya, namely, the Hindustani Dawakhana, as well as a peppermint mixture to clear ear blockages that was peddled by a “famous” physician from Calcutta, Dr S.K. Burman.1 Other issues of the journal included columns on “some tested prescriptions” and “a few more cures” that offered home treatments for anything from a honeybee sting and a lack of appetite to coughs, colds, and fevers.2 The ruling Begam and her daughter-in-law, Maimoona Sultan, too, published practical health guides that included scientific drawings of human anatomy and home remedies for illnesses and accidents, while, at the ladies’ club in Bhopal, speeches on health and hygiene were a regular feature of normal meetings and gala celebrations alike.3 Clearly, health – or the lack of it – was a matter of special concern to women. Yet historians of colonial India have taken up this theme of women’s health only recently after previously focussing on education, work, political organization, and nationalism as they related to women and gender. In Geraldine Forbes’ otherwise excellent Women in Modern India in the New Cambridge History of India series, for instance, women’s health issues are discussed only fleetingly, primarily in the context of the opening of medical careers to Indian women from the late nineteenth century.4 Contributors to Kumkum Sangari and Sudesh Vaid’s groundbreaking work, Recasting Women, also failed to draw out this issue in any detail, even as they sought to relate gender difference to a wider set of social relations.5 This omission may perhaps be linked to the association of women’s health with reproduction 124

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and motherhood, a topic not deemed worthy of discussion by the Western feminists who were at the forefront of developing women’s history as a genre from the 1970s. Saying that, there has been a conscious, if belated, effort in the last few years to make up for that earlier neglect of the historical experiences of women as mothers through a burgeoning of writing on maternity, childbirth, and child welfare in a variety of colonial and post-colonial settings.6 As in relation to other themes, however, Muslim women in India remain largely invisible to this discourse with only preliminary efforts being made to examine their engagement with Western or indigenous systems of medicine, despite what this process may tell us about women’s agency and the nature of Muslim reform movements. This chapter aims to further this process by focussing on women’s health reforms as advocated by Sultan Jahan Begam and other women in Bhopal in the early twentieth century. An analysis of their writings and activities relating to this topic draws attention to three main themes that will be elucidated in this study. The first is the process of professionalization that was undertaken in this period with regard to female health practitioners and medical institutions. Not only did the Begam of Bhopal maintain women’s hospitals and dispensaries in her state, but she also introduced training programmes for yunani physicians, nurses, midwives, and health visitors. A second theme relates to the education of mothers in the basic elements of childbirth, first aid, and home nursing in order to better prepare them to bear and raise strong and healthy children who could contribute to the state. A project that deserves mention in this connection was the ruling Begam’s establishment of a “School for Mothers” as part of the Princess of Wales Ladies’ Club in Bhopal, as well as the involvement of her and her dependents in the maternity and child-welfare projects of the era’s health conscious vicereines. A third theme to emerge is the emphasis on spreading knowledge of sanitation and hygiene, whether through speeches, tracts, or visiting programmes intended to reach poor women in their homes. In investigating these themes, this chapter will highlight how this first generation of Muslim female reformers responded to a colonial discourse, but also operated within an Islamic framework that allowed them to introduce incremental change.

Promoting professionalization By the late nineteenth century, the process of professionalizing female health practitioners was well under way in Britain, with midwives and other female healers being discredited through centuries of vilification, nurses receiving training in the Florence Nightingale image, and women doctors graduating from the London School of Medicine for Women.7 This need to rationalize women’s healthcare was tied to concerns about depopulation, as high rates of infant mortality were understood to be shrinking the labour pool – and particularly the male labour pool – on which the British industrial economy 125

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relied. These anxieties in the “metropole” were transferred to India and other colonial settings where government officials, missionaries, and other colonial sympathizers spread the message of improving women’s health, particularly through the medicalization of obstetrics. Yet, as Foucault and others have argued, this interest in maternity and child welfare cannot be reduced to depopulation alone; concerns about the extension of government power and control, particularly into the “dark” reaches of the zenana, acted as an underlying factor.8 The primary agent of this colonial project in Bhopal was the Agency Surgeon, who managed an allopathic hospital at the British cantonment at Sehore and toured a circuit of dispensaries, promoting vaccination and other forms of Western medicine. Also involved through their programme of “zenana visiting” in the state was the Friends’ Foreign Missionary Association – though, as I have argued elsewhere, their efforts should not be implicated in the imperial agenda to the degree of other missionaries on account of their Quaker ideology of egalitarianism as it applied to gender, class, and racial hierarchies.9 At the national level in India, this focus on maternal health led to the establishment of two government-supported, though not fully funded, institutions intended to bring Western biomedicine to Indian women, namely, the National Association for Supplying Female Medical Aid to the Women of India (known as the Dufferin Fund after the Countess of Dufferin, who acted as its patron) and the Victoria Memorial Scholarship Fund. The first was established in 1885 with the aim of providing medical women who could attend to India’s female population – who were believed be to be unwilling to visit male doctors due to the constraints of purdah – while the second was a spin-off focussed on training indigenous midwives (or dais) in Western medical methods and sanitary procedures, largely as a “stopgap” measure until they could be replaced with women doctors and nurses who would oversee births in hospitals.10 As Geraldine Forbes has noted, these projects received the effusive support of “famous and titled Indians,” including reformers, nationalists, and princely rulers, who shared the colonial government’s views on modern science as a means of “civilizing” India or who perhaps simply sought the titles and imperial favours that could be awarded for supporting the vicereine’s scheme.11 This reality has led Cecilia Van Hollen to argue, in line with Lata Mani’s position on sati, that women’s health was the “grounds,” rather than the “subject,” of colonial and nationalist discourses on childbirth.12 Yet some women, notably, the Begams of Bhopal, did seek to reclaim this discourse through selective accommodation and creative adaptation of Western medical ideas. As seen in Chapter 1, this process began in the late nineteenth century when Shah Jahan Begam opened a purdah women’s hospital under the control of a qualified European “lady doctor” in 1891. This institution, known as the Lady Landsdowne Hospital, was inherited and maintained by Sultan Jahan Begam after her accession to the throne in 1901, 126

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even growing in popularity during the first seven years of her reign under the supervision of a Miss L. Blong. During her administration, the annual report of the Dufferin Fund noted that the hospital was doing “excellent work,” proving itself to be a “boon to women, rich and poor, not only in Bhopal but outside the limits of [Bhopal] State,” perhaps reflecting the lack of womenonly facilities in the neighbouring states of Indore and Gwalior.13 Around 150 outpatients attended on a daily basis in this period, while others were treated in their homes or admitted for the purpose of operations, these being “chiefly gynaecological,” according to the records.14 Bhopal’s annual administrative reports attributed this success primarily to Miss Blong’s personal popularity, managerial skills, and dedication to duty, but also noted that female patients were attracted to the hospital in increasing numbers after purdah arrangements were improved in 1905, an observation that highlights the importance of maintaining customary norms.15 This desire to continue operating within an Islamic framework, even while being open to European ideas, was illustrated even more clearly by the first new medical project to be instituted by Sultan Jahan Begam in her state, namely, the establishment of the Asfia School to train indigenous medical practitioners, or hakims, in yunani tibb. As documented by David Arnold, this system of medicine had been unscrupulously discredited by the colonial power in the nineteenth century.16 But the ruling Begam recognized its continuing popularity with the majority of her subjects, asserting in her autobiography that it had endured for two reasons that demonstrated her awareness of popular culture and class considerations: “The first is the fact of the people having been using it successfully for centuries, and the second is the comparative cheapness of the yunani drugs which is a great consideration with the poor classes.”17 At the same time, she realized that there were problems with it as it stood, largely due to the lack of assured standards of practice and the neglect of surgery, this activity usually being left in Bhopal to “clever barbers.”18 The response of the Central India Agency’s Medical Officer to this poor standard of yunani treatment was typical of colonial officers: to recommend that “native” physicians be retired and replaced with allopathic doctors.19 The Begam’s reaction, on the other hand, was to make a diploma from the Bhopal institution, including a course in surgery, a requirement for state medical employees, thus reconciling a traditional style of treatment with modern methods.20 Efforts were also made to cultivate other yunani facilities in the state. Realizing that those yunani medicines sold in the Bhopal bazaar were of poor quality, Sultan Jahan Begam established a state shop under the direct supervision of the chief physician, Hakim Noor-ul-Hasan, to sell goods that were not “inferior or adulterated.”21 Over 30 yunani dispensaries were also maintained by the state, most of which were in the mofussil, where they were accessible to bulk of the population, including rural women. Indeed, throughout the reign of the Begam, the yunani system of medicine grew in 127

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popularity to such a degree that, on average, another dispensary was opened in the state each year. By the 1920s, it had become so prevalent that as many as seven new dispensaries were opened in 1921, replacing nine allopathic dispensaries that had previously existed. The British Agency Surgeon assigned to the state complained bitterly about this change, suggesting that the Begam may wish to reconsider her decision and re-open them. But Bhopal’s Political Secretary defended her actions on the basis that the yunani system was highly favoured by the state’s subjects.22 The legitimacy of his claim is apparent from the records of attendance at various medical institutions: over twice as many patients visited yunani dispensaries (over against European-style hospitals and dispensaries).23 It was also noted in the administrative report of 1920 that “most of the people in the district simply refuse to be treated by the allopathic system.”24 Clearly, the ruling Begam had been able to rejuvenate a long-standing medical tradition in her state, placing Bhopal at the centre of a reformist Muslim and later nationalist project to revive yunani tibb.25 What is equally significant in the context of this discussion is that a number of the yunani dispensaries founded during the reign of Sultan Jahan Begam served women exclusively, and operated under the care of female health practitioners who were said to have “taken proper Tibbi training and received certificates.”26 The Asfia Zenana Dispensary in Bhopal city, for instance, was operated in the 1920s by a trained hakima, Bismillah Khanam, who, along with two male health practitioners, had the status of “Sub-Assistant Surgeon” in the Bhopal state service.27 Other related specialists included “tibbiya health visitors,” who attended to the medical needs of purdahbound women and their children in their homes free of charge, in imitation of the Willingdon Health Scheme in Bombay, but employing the principles of yunani tibb in which they had received comprehensive instruction.28 This concentration of female yunani practitioners is somewhat remarkable if one considers, as Guy Attewell has done, that the largest Muslim princely state, Hyderabad, had only one in government service up to the late 1930s. It may, however, be seen to parallel developments in Delhi, where, in 1908, a new department was added to the Sharifi family’s Madrasa-i-tibbiya with the express purpose of offering yunani instruction to women. Together, these developments in Delhi and Bhopal set a precedent for the establishment of a number of schools for women in other Indian cities, including Allahabad and Mysore, leading to the erosion of male dominance in this profession from the 1940s. As Attewell has noted, some of these “unani lady doctors” even advertised their services in women’s journals, like Tahzib un-Niswan, emphasizing their ability to offer a confidential, authoritative, and sympathetic service to their fellow women.29 Sultan Jahan Begam’s approach to reviving yunani tibb places her firmly within, what Neshat Quaiser has called, the “reformist” camp on the yunani debate with “doctory” – to use the common label of the time for Western 128

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medical science. The emphasis was on retaining yunani tibb both as distinct system of medicine and as a cultural expression of Indian Islam, but reforming it through the introduction of certain “scientific” techniques and structures, including a programme of registration and training.30 Of course, the most well-known advocate of this position in this period was Hakim Ajmal Khan, who, as seen in Chapter 2, was a central figure in the Madrasa-i-tibbiya in Delhi and the founder of the All-India Ayurvedic and Tibbia Conference. Not surprisingly, the Begam of Bhopal was a great supporter of his work, inviting him to Bhopal on numerous occasions throughout her reign and eulogizing his contributions both in her autobiography and, shortly after his death in 1927, in a condolence address given at the All-India Women’s Conference in Delhi.31 Yet she also recognized the “valuable work” of Hakim Abdul Aziz of Lucknow, labelled a “purist” by Quaiser on the basis that he and his Azizi family rejected any adulteration of the “superior” system of yunani tibb with Western methods of medicine.32 Her generous support of Sayyid Ahmad Khan’s Aligarh venture, as it was associated with an outright commitment to European systems of scientific knowledge, should also be mentioned again in this context. Clearly, the Begam’s approach to the yunani–doctory debate was not one that would fit neatly into established categories of analysis, however broadly defined. The Begam’s willingness to draw on a number of different models and adapt them to the Bhopali context when promoting professionalization may also be seen in connection with her efforts to train nurses and midwives. The first of these projects was initiated in 1909, on the occasion of a viceregal visit to the state, when the Lady Minto Nursing School was founded in an annex of the Lady Landsdowne Hospital and under the care of its superintendent, Mrs F.D. Barnes MD. Sultan Jahan Begam justified this move in tones reminiscent of memsahib and missionary reformers, arguing that Indian women’s ignorance of nursing was causing great suffering to the local population that could be alleviated if they became well trained, like women in Europe, and gained employment in hospitals and private situations. For princely rulers seeking to emulate the practices of their British overlords by hiring nurses for their children, there were also pragmatic considerations to training Indian nurses in that European nurses were expensive and rarely willing to live in an Indian home in the way that a local woman would. The alien nature of this venture meant that, initially, the Begam had great difficulty finding students to attend, but, eventually, she was able to entice a few young girls through the granting of scholarships.33 Fifteen years later, the Agency Surgeon reported that the school was still producing nurses that were “trained properly” and appeared to “understand their work well,” though the class of seven suggests that the initiative was never terribly popular. Saying that, all of those seven and one of the two instructors were Muslims and this was a time when almost no Muslim nurses could be found in British India, which suggests that there was something unique about this initiative.34 129

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Midwives were the next to capture the ruling Begam’s attention when, later in 1909, she realized her plan of beginning a class in Bhopal city to train women that belonged to the hereditary dai caste. This scheme, projected as being in line with the aims of the Victoria Memorial Scholarship Fund, was initiated when all of the traditional birthing attendants in Bhopal city were called, along with their daughters, to attend classes at the hospital provided by Mrs Barnes or a member of her medical team, their attendance being assured through the provision of a monthly stipend. Once they were “properly trained” and examined by an officer of the Indian Medical Service, they were granted a certificate without which they could not practise their profession legally in the state. This compulsory instruction and registration process, intended to prevent those unnecessary injuries or even deaths attributed to untrained dais, was more rigorous than anything to be found at the time in larger princely states, such as Hyderabad or Gwalior, or even British India.35 Perhaps even more significant is that it took only until 1914 before the last and most elderly of the indigenous dais in Bhopal city completed their training.36 This success in the capital meant that several European and Anglo-Indian midwives were hired by the state in subsequent years to provide instruction to dais in regional centres, including Ashta, Raisen, and Ichhawar. In 1917, the agents of the colonial state in Bhopal, namely, the Political Agent and the Agency Surgeon, also followed the Begam’s lead by beginning a class in Sehore to provide instruction to Indian midwives of both the cantonment and the qasba.37 The popularity of this dai training scheme in Bhopal – as compared to efforts in British India where the drop-out rate was nearly 100 per cent – was attributed in the annual reports of the Dufferin Fund to the “keen personal interest” of the ruling Begam.38 This judgement corresponds with Dagmar Engels’ findings in Bengal that initiatives by local women to reform the practice of childbirth were far more successful than those promoted by European practitioners.39 Also relevant in terms of this success were the training methods employed in the state, in that instruction was offered in Urdu on a part-time basis, rather than in English in a regular classroom format.40 Fittingly, inspectors of the Victoria Memorial Scholarship Fund commended these efforts by the Begam, but they also expressed their concern that pupils in Bhopal were not receiving sufficient practical training along European lines or enough chances to view European methods.41 Their criticisms reflect the tendency among British activists to favour the replacement of traditional birthing attendants with midwives trained in Western medicine, even though the former often provided a higher and more personal standard of care to their clients. The Begam of Bhopal, however, clearly refused to conform to their expectations. When Dr Dagmar Curjel visited the state in 1919 – ten years after the establishment of the scheme – she noted that, though a percentage of students in midwifery

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classes were tribals and Muslims, by far the largest numbers were still members of the traditional dai caste.42 Sultan Jahan Begam’s distinctive approach to the dai issue may also be seen in a speech given at the Maternity and Child Welfare Exhibition held in Delhi in February 1920. On that occasion, she argued that it was a grave error to blame indigenous dais for all of the problems associated with childbirth on the basis that they had treated maternity cases and other female ailments “in olden days” with “remarkable success.” What was needed instead, she maintained, was “proper organization” to stop this “class of midwives” from “fast disappearing under the new order of things.”43 No mention was made of the “dangerous dai” who was to become the staple of colonial and nationalist discourses on women’s health.44 Yet, curiously, this maligned figure did make an appearance in the impassioned speech given on this same occasion by the Begam’s own daughter-in-law, Maimoona Sultan. Echoing the mantra of the memsahibs, she claimed, “Every one is aware of the tremendous loss of life . . . which can be traced to . . . the ministrations of ignorant dais whose only credentials consist in their haphazard apprenticeship to their equally ignorant mothers and daughters.”45 Other women in Bhopal also used the colonialists’ language to conjure up this despised character. A notable example was Bismillah Khanam, the state’s leading female yunani practitioner, who, in a speech given in Bhopal on the occasion of Sultan Jahan Begam’s twentieth accession anniversary in 1921, spoke of the “great dangers” of handing over a pregnant woman to an “ignorant, incapable, dirty and uneducated midwife with filthy fingernails.”46 These differences between the ruling Begam and her female dependents could be attributed to the generational gap discussed in Chapter 4 in the context of the debate over purdah, with Maimoona Sultan and Bismillah Khanam fulfilling the colonial state’s expectations that younger women would be more willing to accept European notions of medical “progress.”47 Certainly, Maimoona Sultan’s overall stance in the speech quoted above points in this direction, in that she exhorted her audience to imbibe Western science rather than the “evil” customs of their forefathers, claiming that it was the only means by which to prevent the spread of fatal disease during childbirth.48 In an article for the souvenir volume of the exhibition, Keep the Baby Well, she also portrayed British women as “ideals of progress and culture,” and encouraged elite Indian women to follow their example in bringing medical relief along Western lines to their “helpless sisters.”49 Yet Bismillah Khanam’s very position as a yunani practitioner and her express conviction, articulated in the speech quoted above, that it was acceptable for pregnant Bhopali women to seek medical treatment from a lady doctor, hakima, Western-style midwife, or dai, as long as they were “qualified” and “certified,” demonstrates that this dichotomy is not really appropriate.50 Indeed, at this general level, her message sounded much more like that of

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Sultan Jahan Begam herself, who, in her speech to the Maternity and Child Welfare Exhibition, reiterated her stance that female health practitioners would be best served if their instruction consisted of a “happy combination” of Western and yunani medical knowledge.51 Together, their examples illustrate that, even as there was agreement among these Muslim female reformers on the need to promote professionalization in relation to women’s health, there was contestation between them and their British mentors, and among themselves, as to what this would entail.

Educating mothers The colonial concern with maternity and child welfare led, not only to the professionalization of female health practitioners and women’s medical institutions, but also to a coordinated attempt to educate mothers. As Van Hollen has noted, “the Indian woman” was constructed in colonial discourse as a figure of ignorance with regard to her own health and that of her children, but one that was “eminently malleable”: a child-like figure who could be moulded into a “good mother” if she was introduced to European methods of childbirth and childcare.52 Margaret Jolly has noted the “resonances” between this discourse and the “strategies of intervention in the lives of working-class mothers in Britain.”53 In that context, policy makers were motivated by the women’s suffrage movement and the poor physical performance of troops during the First World War, among other factors, to pass a Maternity and Child Welfare Act in 1918, after which women’s hospitals, infant welfare centres, and “baby shows” were organized across the country.54 When transferred to the Indian colony, this interest led to the formation of the All-India League for Maternity and Child Welfare by Lady Chelmsford in 1919 and the “Baby Week” movement by Lady Reading in 1924. The aim of both of these initiatives was to educate Indian women, especially of the poorer classes, in methods of bearing and raising children in the British model by means of pamphlets and travelling exhibits. This programme, thus, provides an example of the way in which the colonial state used medicine to reach into the Indian home and assert its hegemony, although it has been noted by Geraldine Forbes how middle-class Indian women also manipulated this process, particularly as it related to midwifery, by using it to assert their own autonomy.55 Indian women’s agency in this process may also be recovered by analysing the way in which Bhopali women responded to this colonial discourse on educating mothers. Particularly relevant in this context, as noted in the introduction, was Sultan Jahan Begam’s establishment of, what she called, a “School for Mothers” in 1919 as part of the Princess of Wales Ladies’ Club. According to a detailed description in a 1921 letter from the ruling Begam to Lady Reading, the project aimed to professionalize the tasks that women already performed by transforming them into a taught programme of home 132

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economics that included childcare and training, cookery, sewing, needlework, elementary hygiene, home nursing, and housekeeping – very similar to programmes on offer in England and the United States. Yet attempts were also made to adapt this scheme to the specific requirements of women in Bhopal. Instruction, for instance, was to be provided in the form of lectures and practical demonstrations in Urdu by female health officers of the state, rather than in the form of the English lectures and book learning that were to make similar undertakings so unsuccessful in the provinces of British India. Home visits were also deemed necessary so that teaching could be adapted to individual needs and its application “rationally enforced,” while women’s customary obligations were recognized through the provision of covered conveyances to take women to and from the club and childcare while teaching was in progress. Perhaps the most important way in which Sultan Jahan Begam sought to adapt this colonial project to her own reformist aims, however, was in justifying its purpose. Specifically, she identified that the intention of the School for Mothers was to provide mothers of childbearing age with adequate preparation for their “responsible vocation” of bringing up healthy children who would ultimately become “useful citizens of the State,” however ironic this language of citizenship might have been in the colonial or princely context.56 In an effort to fulfil this purpose, the ruling Begam introduced her scheme to Bhopali women at a grand meeting attended by members of the ladies’ club and recent graduates of local girls’ schools on the occasion of the anniversary of her accession to the throne in January 1919. Shortly after, classes in first aid, hygiene, and home nursing were begun for 11 Muslim women, all of whom were wives of the Bhopal gentry or high officers of the state, thus emphasizing the elite nature of this venture in its early stages.57 The syllabus was based on that devised by the Indian Council of the St John’s Ambulance Association, a branch of which had been opened in Bhopal in 1911–12 and which had actually extended first-aid classes to women of the ladies’ club as early as 1914.58 But, as planned, these new classes were taught by female health practitioners in Bhopal, primarily the superintendent of the Lady Landsdowne Hospital, Miss A.E. Paul, and the superintendent of the Asfia Zenana Dispensary, Bismillah Khanam. Continued colonial influence was also evident in that a member of the Indian Medical Service, usually the Agency Surgeon posted to Bhopal, was called in every six months to hold examinations and reward successful candidates with medals. Yet the format was adapted to fit the Islamic environment in Bhopal; as nearly all of the club’s members were in purdah, the male examiner would sit on one side of a curtain and the women on the other, while a young boy moved back and forth between the two groups, checking that the right woman was answering the questions and acting as a patient for the students to treat.59 The dynamic way in which women in Bhopal engaged with their ruler’s programme may be seen in accounts by European visitors to the state. When 133

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Dr Dagmar Curjel of the Victoria Memorial Scholarship Fund visited the ladies’ club late in 1919, for instance, she highlighted that, since classes had commenced, attendance at the bi-weekly meetings had increased and become more regular. She also noted that the women were “very keen” about what they were learning – in fact, so “eager” that it was “quite difficult” for her to get away.60 Ruth Frances Woodsmall, a guest to the club in the late 1920s, reiterated this point, giving the example of “one very colourful old Begam,” who, despite being “very aristocratic” and spending her whole life in “orthodox purdah,” showed utter “delight and joy” in her scholastic achievements. These women’s acceptance of the domestic purpose of their health training was also evident in that the same elderly Begam was reported to have told her, “Not that we expect to do nursing . . . but now we know how to take care of our own families and make better homes.”61 At the same time, Bhopali women were clearly selective in what they deemed to be useful knowledge. The School for Mothers was intended to have six classes – gestation, art and games, and nursing, as well as the three mentioned above – yet various reports in the early 1920s suggest that women only attended regularly, and got satisfactory grades in, first aid. In 1924, to take just one example, the Agency Surgeon noted that 31 ladies had passed the first-aid examination, while only four or five had completed courses in home nursing and hygiene.62 What is also significant about this scheme is that Sultan Jahan Begam did not just set it up in her own state, but also promoted it to other parts of India. In her article for the souvenir volume of the Maternity and Child Welfare Exhibition in Delhi in 1920, for example, she recommended that “schools for mothers” be attached to, or even replace, ladies’ clubs in towns across India, even offering to “lend the scheme” as it was introduced in Bhopal to “those desirous of carrying out the idea.”63 Maimoona Sultan also spread the word in her speech on this same occasion, advocating that, in light of the success of her illustrious mother-in-law’s “experiment” in Bhopal, “similar provisions” should be made in “every town in India.”64 Certainly within a few years, “mothercraft” classes, offering guidance on childrearing, cooking, and other domestic skills, were being held in a number of princely states and provinces in British India, though no evidence has been seen to suggest that these were inspired by the Begam’s proposals in particular. Indeed, Barbara Ramusack has argued that they, seemingly like the Begam’s own initiative, were modelled on similar programmes in England and the United States.65 Nevertheless, this example highlights the way in which the ruling Begam used Bhopal as a testing ground for her ideas on reforming women’s health before then seeking to export them elsewhere. In making reference to the Maternity and Child Welfare Exhibition in Delhi, it should also be noted that Bhopal’s royal women did not just give speeches and write articles for this gathering, but also took part in the proceedings, which, in themselves, were a form of educating mothers. Organized

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under the auspices of Lady Chelmsford’s League, it included displays, lectures, and films on maternity, childhood, domestic hygiene, sanitation, home nursing, first aid, and other related topics. A “baby show” – in which mothers entered their offspring to be judged on the basis of their health – was also held, and generous prizes were offered to encourage involvement. Various participants – ranging from interested Muslim politicians, for example, Dr M.A. Ansari and Hakim Ajmal Khan, to titled British women, such as Lady Hailey and Lady Chelmsford herself – also organized private gatherings, or “at homes,” to which the Bhopali Begams were invited to discuss women’s health issues.66 On this occasion and subsequently, Sultan Jahan Begam, Maimoona Sultan, and the “leading ladies of Bhopal State” also offered concrete support to the vicereine’s scheme by making substantial donations to the League itself as well as to the “Jewel Fund” for training health visitors and various other related causes.67 The ruling Begam, along with other reforming princesses such as the Maharani of Baroda, also contributed to the organization throughout the 1920s by responding favourably when called upon to write articles, allow earlier publications to be reprinted or have their picture displayed in the League’s magazine, Maternity and Child Welfare in India.68 Bhopali women’s willingness to engage with the colonial project to educate mothers and make it their own may also be seen in that a comparable event to the exhibition in Delhi was held in Bhopal in November 1921 in the form of a gala celebration to honour Sultan Jahan Begam’s twentieth accession anniversary. It was staged over two days, the first taking the form of an exhibition on children’s health and the second being dedicated to a series of health lectures by female practitioners in the state, many of which were on the theme of bearing and raising children – though not necessarily in the European model. Mrs Bashirullah Khan, a midwife and health visitor, addressed her audience on the precautions to be taken when a mother was breastfeeding, highlighting the importance of keeping milk pots and bottles clean, while Mehmooda Begam, a tibbiya health visitor, discussed the reasons for children’s diseases and the methods to stop them using the principle of yunani tibb.69 As noted in the previous section, Bismillah Khanam also spoke on this occasion on the precautions to be taken before and after childbirth, the emphasis being on the utilization of trained medical practitioners, whether these be allopathic doctors, yunani physicians, or indigenous midwives. Her lecture is also useful for highlighting the autonomy that Indian women were seeking to gain through this process in that she concluded her talk by encouraging her audience to learn about women’s health issues so that they may “look after themselves.”70 That this message was well received in the Bhopali context is evident from reports that this event was attended in “huge numbers beyond expectation” by “ladies of all classes.”71 This apparent interest in educating as many

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women as possible in the principles of maternity and child welfare, regardless of their economic status, was also confirmed by the themes of some of the lectures. Bismillah Khanam, for instance, directed her discussion on childbirth to those living in houses, “both rich and poor.”72 A closer analysis of her lecture, however, reveals a lack of understanding with women unlike herself. Evidence of this trend may be seen in that she considered the “funny” habits of village women for the “pleasure” of her audience, describing with apparent glee how they bore their children while working in the forests or the field, cut the umbilical cord with a sharp stone, washed their newborn baby with leaves, then walked home with it under their arm, seemingly unaware that they may not have had the luxury of any alternative. Though she admired these women for their “natural” quality, comparing them to “wild trees” that did not need the care of a gardener, she dismissed their method of childbirth as invalid, claiming that children born in this way did not undergo proper mental development, nor prove able to resist disease. She then turned her full attention to the case of rich women living in purdah in the cities.73 This elite bias suggested a convergence in terms of class interests on the part of Muslim female reformers in Bhopal and their British counterparts who, as suggested above, were making equally presumptuous “interventions” into the lives of working-class women in their own country.74 This shared purpose may also be seen in that Sultan Jahan Begam was an enthusiastic supporter of Lady Reading’s “Baby Week” movement. When asked to accept the vice-presidency in 1923, she sent an effusive letter of acceptance in which she proclaimed that baby weeks were a “capital idea” of which the “great educative value . . . could not be doubted for a moment.”75 As a practical demonstration of her support, she arranged for two baby shows to be held in Bhopal in January 1924 in conjunction with activities across India. The first of these contests was held at Bairasia, a district headquarters, with the intention of attracting women of the countryside, while the second was held at the ladies’ club under her own direction. What is quite remarkable, especially when considering how unsuccessful these baby shows were in Bengal due to fears of the “evil eye,” was that this latter event attracted around 800 women and their babies of which 12 – six Hindu and six Muslim – received prizes for being “extremely well-fed and healthy.”76 This large turnout suggests that the vicereine’s scheme benefited in Bhopal from being associated with the trusted figure of the ruler, who, while drawing on European and American examples, refused any wholesale acceptance of foreign ideas in favour of building on customary Islamic norms. Her incremental approach guaranteed the participation of large numbers of Bhopali women, not only in baby shows, but also in a variety of other schemes to educate mothers, even as they asserted their own agendas relating to class, gender, and community.

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Spreading sanitation While vicereines limited their attention to maternity and child welfare, it was sanitation, as it related to public health, that was at the centre of the colonial state’s medical policy in India from the nineteenth century. This focus may be attributed to contemporary medical theories in Europe, where the spread of disease was attributed to miasmatic factors such as the “poisonous emissions” and “pestiferous exhalations” of decaying vegetable and human waste matter, particularly in a crowded setting.77 This understanding dovetailed nicely with yunani conceptions of the spread of disease and the maintenance of health in that it also emphasized the need to achieve a balance between certain essential qualities, like air and water, although, notably, in terms of the individual’s body rather than the physical environment. This overlap stimulated yunani practitioners to engage with the colonial discourse on sanitation, leading to a proliferation of works in the early twentieth century on what was referred to as hifz-i-sehat. As Guy Attewell has noted, this phrase, as it was derived from Arabic, translated literally as “the preservation of health,” but was equated with sanitation in its “western medical connotations.”78 The “woeful crescendo of death”79 experienced in India in the 1890s as a result of recurring outbreaks of malaria, plague, and cholera had focussed attention on this issue, crystallizing opinion that it was the duty of the colonial state to spread the benefits of sanitary principles, but that, as yet, it had been unsuccessful in doing so. Only after the outbreak of plague in Bombay in 1896 was any serious attempt made to translate policy into action on a large scale.80 Interestingly, it was the repeated outbreak of a particularly virulent strain of bubonic plague in Bhopal, claiming as many as 50 lives per day at its height in 1903, that also drew Sultan Jahan Begam’s attention to the issue of sanitation at the beginning of her reign. Demonstrating her familiarity with Western medical science, she responded swiftly by ordering the establishment of quarantines, the evacuation of infected houses, and the introduction of sanitary measures intended to combat “dampness” and “uncleanliness,” even though these measures were, by her own admission, “thoroughly detested by the people.”81 Disregarding their scepticism, she also introduced an extensive programme of inoculation, very similar to that instituted in Bombay when plague first appeared in the 1890s. Her methods, however, were rather less draconian than those of her British overlords. Instead of using force, she encouraged her subjects to participate voluntarily by organizing public lectures to explain the procedure, ordering her officials to show sensitivity to caste and religious sensibilities, and providing financial incentives to encourage parents to inoculate their children. In order to set a good example for the wider population, she also requested members of the ruling family, state officials, and military troops to submit to the procedure first. The Begam’s gentle approach was rewarded when Bhopalis – or at least

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those living in the capital – began to submit willingly to precautionary measures. Indeed, it was noted in 1907 that there was “probably no city in India” where inoculation had been received “with less prejudice” or by more people.82 This statement gains validity when a comparison is drawn with the violent upsurge of public opposition, depicted by Arnold as “cultural resistance to colonial medical intervention,” when coercive plague measures were adopted in British India.83 The association of sanitation with cleanliness in the home meant that, more often than not, it was women, those most closely identified with this domain, who were charged with promoting it. Sultan Jahan Begam recognized this special responsibility, asserting in a speech given at the Princess of Wales Ladies’ Club in Bhopal: “It is specially incumbent on womenfolk, to whom has been entrusted the high duty of the preservation of the race, that they should pay special regard towards the observance of these life-giving and life-preserving rules.”84 To that end, she encouraged her female employees and dependents to give speeches on this theme at the ladies’ club, a key example being Maimoona Sultan’s two-part lecture on hygiene, presented as her “maiden speech” around 1912. In this forum, she demonstrated her familiarity with “modern medical research” by attributing the spread of disease to miasmatic factors in the following terms: The air which is free from all sorts of impurities like dust and bad vapours that come out from the earth has a very good effect on health. If you happen to go to some damp place where vapours usually come out of the earth, or to some dirty locality, you will feel there the injurious effects of the impure air. If a person of delicate and sensitive temperament stays in such a place for some time, he is sure to faint or even die. When the air gets impure on account of the bad smelling atoms which it takes from animal breathing, human excreta and decomposing articles, it tends to give rise to diverse epidemic diseases.85 Malaria in particular was associated in her talk with areas in which there was “a lot of moisture,” including riverbanks, lakes, and canals.86 Yet she also revealed her debt to yunani medicine in that she spoke of the need to regulate the “animal temperature” in the body through controlled breathing. She also warned of the effects of being struck by the “hot wind,” known in Arabic as “simoom,” which, in being “somewhat poisonous,” could give rise to a range of diseases, including rheumatism.87 Her main prescription for avoiding poor health, again reflecting the colonial discourse on sanitation, was cleanliness. Houses were to be swept regularly, spittoons were to be washed several times a day, animals were to be banished to a separate house, clothes were to be kept “neat and tidy,” and a daily bath was to become part of every individual’s routine.88 Above all, she advised, very much like British medical officers, “not to keep rubbish things 138

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lying inside the houses or in the neighbourhood, and to have your dwellings well ventilated.”89 That her stance had been inspired by direct contact with Europeans, not only in India, but also abroad, is suggested by regular passages in her travelogue, A Trip to Europe, in which she contrasted the “taste and cleanly ways of living” of the French and the English with the “proverbial uncleanliness” of Indians in a way that was highly reminiscent of Sayyid Ahmad Khan’s detailed observations of English society during his own 18-month stay in Great Britain from April 1869 to October 1870.90 As he had written in an infamous letter to the Aligarh Institute Gazette: I can truly say that the natives of India, high and low, merchants and petty shopkeepers, educated and illiterate, when contrasted with the English in education, manners and uprightness are as like them as a dirty animal is to an able and handsome man.91 This shared analogy of “clean Europeans” and “dirty Indians” suggests that Maimoona Sultan, like the Aligarh modernist, had, during her European travels, been overcome by the superiority of Western learning and civilization. At the same time, however, she still justified her directive to keep clean in her speeches to the ladies’ club by making liberal references to the Qur’an and hadith. “Cleanliness is one of the chief factors of Faith, or rather one half of the Faith,” she quoted the Prophet as saying before citing from the Qur’an, “Verily God loves the penitent and the clean and pure.”92 Her message was unequivocal: “cleanliness of house, body and clothes is one of the chief factors of the faith: one who neglects it, disobeys God.”93 Of course, travel had not shaken Sayyid Ahmad Khan’s faith in the basic aspects of the Islamic religion either. Indeed, it was while in England that he wrote a response to William Muir’s Life of Mahomet, entitled Khutabat-i-Ahmadiya (published in English as Essays on the Life of Muhammad), in which he staunchly defended the Prophet from the attacks of Christian missionaries.94 Yet, in taking this approach, the young Begam’s speech invites more favourable comparison with book nine of Maulana Ashraf Ali Thanawi’s renowned advice manual, Bihishti Zewar, in which he also employed Islamic injunctions to motivate Muslim women in their pursuit of personal cleanliness.95 Another parallel may also be drawn in that both of these tracts appear to evoke, what Metcalf has called, a “single standard.”96 Just as Thanawi asserted that guidance in Bihishti Zewar was applicable to men and women equally, so there is nothing in Maimoona Sultan’s lectures on hygiene that need be directed at women alone. Indeed, it is a telling feature that she often addressed her instructions to “persons,” rather than just “ladies.”97 This capacity to operate within an Islamic framework while still referencing a colonial discourse may also be seen in the writings of Sultan Jahan Begam herself. In 1916, she published a manual on health and sanitation 139

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for women, revealingly titled Hifz-i-sehat (The Preservation of Health), in which she encouraged women, not only to maintain physical fitness through exercise and a balanced diet, but also to improve sanitary conditions within the home in order to reduce the causes of sickness.98 This holistic approach to women’s health reflected her acceptance of the basic principles of yunani tibb, with its emphasis on preventative measures, as well as her engagement with Western scientific theories on the spread of disease. Indeed, her tendency, like that of her daughter-in-law, to blend indigenous and colonial systems of medicine may be seen in that, as Attewell has noted, she defined hygiene in terms reminiscent of British officials as cleanliness of “air, water, food, the body, clothing and place,” yet, at the same time, drew on yunani principles to express a “teleological conception of the functioning of the body” in which weakness in one organ was understood to spread to others.99 Her debt to European and Indian medical practitioners alike was made even more explicit in the preface when she thanked representatives of both systems for their helpful comments on her draft.100 In its willingness to draw on the yunani tradition in particular and present this knowledge to women in an accessible and appropriate manner, the Begam’s text also resembled book nine of Thanawi’s Bihishti Zewar, published just a few years before in 1905.101 Like the Deobandi ‘alim, she recognized women’s potential to take responsibility for their own health by giving them access to selective medical knowledge. Yet Sultan Jahan Begam also went a step further than Thanawi in asserting women’s autonomy in that she identified sanitation as a cause that could justify women’s independent actions, not only in their own homes, but also outside of them. It was noted in a previous section how she appointed female health visitors to offer yunani medical care in the home, but they also gave lectures on sanitation and hygiene in deprived districts and at the ladies’ club. A key example was a talk presented by a health visitor called Mehrunnisa on the occasion of the well-attended celebrations to mark the ruling Begam’s twentieth accession anniversary in which she addressed sanitary methods to be followed in “poor Hindustani homes.”102 Perhaps even more remarkable was Sultan Jahan Begam’s encouragement of members of the ladies’ club in Bhopal, and especially those that had completed classes at the School for Mothers, to spread the “wholesome knowledge of right living” by visiting those dwellings where “the rules of hygiene [were] not fully observed” to give advice on this matter. To highlight her support for this scheme, she even offered a pecuniary allowance and the use of a conveyance to those women willing to take it up. This charitable act, while recognized as being “very painful,” was portrayed as allowing elite women the opportunity to offer “practical sympathy” to their poor sisters by helping them to “remove their self-inflicted miseries.”103 This reference to Victorian notions of personal responsibility suggests that these activities may have been stimulated by the example of upper-class British women who were involved in 140

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social welfare work of a similar kind in Britain and India. By relying on an Islamic notion of charity (zakat), however, elite Bhopali women were able to gain acceptance for professional work outside the home in a way that never would have been possible had they demanded training in nursing for secular purposes. Having established these sanitary projects in her own state, Sultan Jahan Begam also sought to inform women in other parts of India of their benefits. One occasion on which she sought to do so was the inaugural conference of the All-India Ladies’ Association, held in Bhopal in 1918, during which two resolutions were passed relating to this theme. The first recognized the contributions of the Government of India to improving sanitary measures in Indian towns and cities, but sought the extension of the administrative machinery of the country to further this process. In this connection, one Muslim woman from Lahore, Mrs Rashida Latif, even suggested that a system of town planning and house construction could be introduced, as was prevalent in Britain. The second resolved that the attention of women of all classes should be directed towards proper methods of domestic cleanliness and hygiene through various methods, including speeches, picture shows, and published tracts, just as was being done in Bhopal.104 Sultan Jahan Begam’s scheme for introducing poor women to the “rudiments of sanitation and hygiene” was also promoted at the Maternity and Child Welfare Exhibition, held in Delhi in 1920.105 In her speech on that occasion, she again emphasized the negative effects of poverty and unsanitary living conditions on poor women’s health, thus demonstrating an understanding of the range of Indian women’s health problems that far outweighed that of her British patrons.106 These activities at the national level may, thus, be seen to exemplify the efforts of Bhopal’s female reformers to spread sanitation in that they drew on colonial and existing Islamic discourses but were not contained by either, instead asserting women’s autonomy in a hitherto unknown way.

Conclusions By the time Sultan Jahan Begam abdicated in 1926, Bhopal state had a fairly comprehensive programme for treating women’s health. There were allopathic hospitals, yunani dispensaries and health-visiting programmes in the capital and the mofussil to serve women living in and out of purdah, as well as accredited schemes to train yunani practitioners, indigenous dais, and European-style nurses. In light of women’s perceived function as mothers, there were also schemes to educate them in the basics of first aid, childbirth, and nursing, whether in the form of regular classes, special exhibitions, or “baby shows.” Women’s identification with the home meant that they had also been targeted to spread the principles of sanitation and hygiene, both in their own neighbourhoods and those of less fortunate women, primarily through speeches and manuals. Ironically, some of these initiatives were so 141

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well established that they even began to decline in the 1920s as the ruling Begam became less able to supervise them due to age and other preoccupations discussed in Chapter 2. When Lady Reading and her personal secretary, Miss Fitzroy, visited Lady Landsdowne Hospital in 1922, for instance, having already toured similar facilities in numerous other states, they remarked in their private correspondence that it was “rotten,” “old-fashioned,” and “none too clean.”107 Even so, in 1927 it was one of only 183 zenana hospitals in the whole of India, providing an example to other princely rulers, many of whom were just moving to establish medical institutions for women in their own states.108 Quaker female missionaries in Bhopal also noted that, in her retirement, the Dowager Begam devoted herself to rejuvenating some of her earlier projects, including the “School for Mothers,” to which newly designed courses in first aid and nursing were added.109 In recognition of her pioneering efforts, the Begam of Bhopal was hailed by visitors to the state in the late 1920s, including Ruth Frances Woodsmall and Sir Harcourt Butler, who confirmed that she had engaged with women’s health issues long before other princely rulers.110 Their comments hint at her significance, but it was not just timing that distinguished her initiatives. What was also important was her selective and, indeed, creative approach, as it drew on a range of different medical traditions. Her willingness to engage with Western systems of scientific knowledge, not least by promoting allopathic institutions in her state, patronizing the vicereines’ maternity and child-welfare schemes, and tackling the colonial discourse on sanitation, suggest that, as a reformer, she could be identified with the Aligarh school. Yet, in fostering these initiatives, she and other women in Bhopal also adapted them to address the specific circumstances and concerns of Indian Muslim women in a way that drew on an indigenous model of reform associated with the Deoband madrasa. Bhopal’s status as a princely state may be seen as relevant in this connection in that, in this semi-autonomous context, there was at least some space to resist colonial hegemony as it was asserted through medicine, whether that be through reviving yunani tibb to the detriment of allopathic dispensaries or favouring indigenous dais over Western-trained midwives. Following the example of Gyan Prakash, then, this analysis highlights the process of “hybridization” that went on in terms of scientific knowledge in the colonial setting, whereby Western ideas were combined with “local cultural and religious understanding” – though I would also emphasize the multiple and interlocking ways in which this was achieved, rather than postulate a simple dichotomous distinction between “Western” and “Indian” modernity.111 That women in Bhopal, in a subtle act of subversion, manipulated existing models of reform to address the specific circumstances and concerns of Indian Muslim women is exemplified by their assertion of the validity of yunani tibb as a distinct and culturally defining system of medicine to which women could contribute. The ruling Begam’s focus on separate health pro142

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grammes for women also effectively opened up health professions to Muslim women, and especially poor girls and orphans, who trained as nurses and midwives and led to a significant foray by women into the public sphere that would not necessarily have been accepted had it not been justified on the basis of fulfilling the “needs of the female sex.”112 As argued already with regard to educational initiatives, elite Bhopali women were also distinguished from their male counterparts in displaying an interest in women outside the ashraf class through projects like the “School for Mothers” and philanthropic schemes relating to sanitation. What these examples also highlight, however, is the way in which the Begam of Bhopal, her female medical staff, and women of the ladies’ club were, like their co-elites in Britain, involved in a hegemonic enterprise by which they sought to inculcate each other and less privileged women with their own reformist ideas about childbirth, childcare, and sanitation – though even that process was not uncontested. Still, the long-term effects of their maternalism may be seen in that, in Bhopal today, many of Sultan Jahan Begam’s projects to reform women’s health continue to exist and even, as in the case of the Sultania Zenana Hospital (formerly the Lady Landsdowne Hospital), bear her name.

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6 RIGHTS AND DUTIES

Of all the speeches that Sultan Jahan Begam gave at the Princess of Wales Ladies’ Club in Bhopal, the ones that proved most successful were those relating to women’s rights and duties in Islam. Not only was her series of lectures on religious injunctions given in 1917 gathered into a printed collection, Sabil ul-Jinan (The Path to Heaven), which found its way into libraries all over India,1 but her most detailed pronouncements were published separately in short tracts – a key example being one called Islam main ‘Aurat ka Martaba (The Position of Women in Islam) that appeared in 1922.2 Reflecting demand, she also wrote a full book on the topic, Hadiyat ul-Zaujain (A Guide for the Married Couple), in the style of an advice manual to a newly married couple, which was deemed so important that it was translated into English under the title Muslim Home. Extracts on polygamy and the “relative position of man and woman in Islam” were also reprinted in Muslim publications in Britain.3 Other Muslim women, too, devoted themselves to reading and writing on this subject with the pages of Zil us-Sultan, the Urdu women’s journal published in Bhopal, often being filled with pertinent articles on, for instance, the “laws of inheritance” and “child marriages,” alongside scores of advertisements for related books – from biographies of exemplary women in early Islamic history to Annie Besant’s pronouncements on the “good things” about Islam.4 Seeking to take practical steps to guarantee their rights, many women also became involved with the establishment of autonomous women’s organizations in this period, whether at the local or national level. That Muslim women were engaged, then, with the burning reformist issues of the time, including child marriage, divorce, inheritance, property rights, polygamy, and suffrage, among others, seems beyond doubt. Yet Muslim women’s participation in these debates and organizations has received only cursory attention, this group being rendered largely “invisible” in nationalist histories, as Mahua Sarkar has observed.5 To some extent, this situation may be explained on the basis that those feminist scholars interested in women’s rights, notably Geraldine Forbes, have

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focused primarily on the activities of just three all-India women’s social service organizations in which Muslim women had very little involvement, specifically the Women’s Indian Association (WIA), the National Council of Women in India (NCWI), and the All-India Women’s Conference (AIWC). Founded between 1917 and 1928, these organizations are accredited with uniting India’s first generation of female activists, including social reformers, nationalists, professional educationalists, and the landed elite, to advance women’s social, economic, and political rights. Their ideological commitment to “social feminism” has been critiqued, but their pre-eminence has hardly been challenged.6 Gail Minault, Barbara Metcalf, and others have, on the other hand, analysed the pronouncements by certain male writers and politicians from the Muslim community on women’s rights and duties within the context of socio-religious reform movements and public debates over shari‘at and divorce legislation, demonstrating the interrelationship between this issue, religious identity, and nationalism in the years leading up to independence.7 To examine Muslim women’s own writings and activities in relation to these topics, then – in the manner of what has recently been done in regional studies on Punjab, the United Provinces, and Bengal8 – not only denotes agency to new groups of Indian women, but also raises important questions about women, Islam, and political identity. In order to address this aim, this chapter will examine Sultan Jahan Begam’s participation in the debate over women’s rights and duties in early twentieth-century India with reference to three main themes. The first relates to her explication of the status of women in Islam as it related to female infanticide, polygamy, maintenance, mahr (dower), inheritance, child marriage, and divorce. An important feature of this debate was her reliance on an interpretation of Islam that assumed women’s submission to their husbands on earth, even as she asserted their equality before God. A second theme is her espousal of an Indian sisterhood through the establishment and patronage of a number of organizations that were operated by women for women. These included the Princess of Wales Ladies’ Club in Bhopal, the All-India Muslim Ladies’ Conference, the All-India Ladies’ Association, the National Council of Women in India, and the All-India Women’s Conference. The final section will then investigate the ruling Begam’s stance on political rights for women, whether within the autocratic setting of a princely state or the increasingly representative institutions of British India. Perhaps most interesting are her efforts to reconcile her own status as a female sovereign, and her justifications for it, with her objections to women’s franchise and universal adult suffrage. In doing so, further evidence will be provided of the way in which early Muslim female reformers negotiated a path between different colonial and Islamic models in order to introduce incremental change.

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Explicating status In the course of the nineteenth century, ‘the woman question’ emerged as one of the grounds on which British administrators and their Indian subjects debated the subcontinent’s fitness for self-rule with the position of women being depicted as an indicator of a society’s development. As James Mill decreed as early as 1826 in The History of British India, “Among rude people, the women are generally degraded; among civilised people they are exalted.” From his second-hand knowledge of Indian religions and society, he concluded: “nothing can exceed the habitual contempt which the Hindus entertain for their women,” a state that suggested the backwardness of the country.9 Hindu reformers, starting with Raja Rammohan Roy in Bengal, responded in force. Though they admitted that women were in a depressed condition in their time, they rejected Mill’s formulation of Hindu civilization as eternally degraded, instead arguing that there had once been a “golden age” when women were accorded value and respect. Before “the fall,” normally attributed to Muslim rule, women were portrayed as educated and free, playing an active role in the social and political life of the community, unfettered by seclusion or child marriage. What was necessary, the reformers maintained, was to institute change by returning to this glorious past that was free from “evil” customs. To bolster their arguments, they claimed that sati, child marriage, and polygamy were also against the dictates of nature and reason, thus evoking the rationalist language of their British administrators.10 As seen in Chapter 1, Muslim reformers modified these arguments to their own purposes, calling for a revitalization of Muslim culture through the restoration of “pure” Islam free from cultural accretions – in effect, a return to scriptural sources and early Islamic history. A major consequence for women was that certain male reformers began issuing bold statements on women’s rights that represented a modernist interpretation of Islam. One of the earliest of these tracts was Syed Ameer Ali’s A Critical Examination of the Life and Teachings of Mohammed, first published in 1873, though it later appeared in an expanded version under the better-known title, The Spirit of Islam. In it, he discouraged polygamy and “triple talaq” divorces – in which the repetition of the prescription for divorce (talaq) was made three times in one sitting, rather than leaving the requisite intervals for reconsideration specified in the shari’at – as well as arguing that women should be given their full legal rights as set out in the Qur’an, including inheritance and other property rights, and the freedom to take part in public life, as observed in the lives of Aisha and Fatima.11 Somewhat comparable in terms of overall message was Sayyid Mumtaz Ali’s Huquq un-Niswan in which he applied his lawyer’s logic supported by a comprehensive knowledge of the religious sciences to those various arguments put forward to justify women’s presumed inferiority. The result was that women’s testimony in court was deemed equally admissible to that of a

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man on most legal matters, girls were guaranteed their right to inheritance and mahr, polygamy was rejected unless accompanied by a wife’s permission, widows were allowed to remarry, and child marriage was viewed as incompatible with the spirit of “sympathy and companionship” that should infuse marriage. In rejecting biological difference as the basis for male superiority, this text had many overlaps with Maulana Ashraf Ali Thanawi’s later advice manual, Bihishti Zewar, perhaps reflecting the author’s early training at the Deoband madrasa.12 Interestingly, Sultan Jahan Begam did not make reference to any of the above books in her own writings on women’s rights and duties in Islam, instead citing only a more general work by Nazir Ahmad published in 1906, namely, Al-Huquq-wa’l-Fara’iz (Rights and Duties),13 in the introduction to her Sabil ul-Jinan. Specifically, she insisted that a copy of this compilation of Islamic doctrine should be kept in every Muslim home so that it could be read lesson by lesson by all members of the family – an assertion that hints at the “single standard” of religious education common to Deobandi reformers, even as she recommended the work of an Aligarh modernist.14 Her own book followed this pattern, including chapters on faith, prayer (namaz), fasting (rozah), almsgiving (zakat), festivals (including ῾Id ul-Fitr and ῾Id ulAdha), and pilgrimage (hajj) that, in most cases, would have been as appropriate to Muslim men as her female audience. She also sought to follow Nazir Ahmad’s example of writing in a purposefully unscholarly way by making all of her speeches and writings accessible so as to guarantee that Muslim women would be clear as to the extensive rights conferred upon them by their religion once it had been cleansed of cultural accretions. One way in which she achieved this aim was by quoting relevant passages from the Qur’an in Arabic before explaining then in Urdu, the language of her audience. In following this method, she placed herself firmly within an Islamic framework, unlike her more radical Bengali contemporary, Rokeya Sakhawat Hossain, who sought to challenge the very foundations of Islam by questioning the divine inspiration of Qur’anic edicts on women.15 The starting point of the ruling Begam’s actual argument was that she was spreading a universal truth: that everyone, whether male or female, rich or poor, deserved to be treated with justice. This point would certainly have held resonance with her British overlords, whatever the inequities of the colonial situation, but the way in which she developed it was rather different. Specifically, she argued in her pamphlet, Islam main ‘Aurat ka Martaba, that Islam had come to the “redemption” of woman when she was “in the lurch,” providing her with more rights than any other religion that had come before. She gave proof of this point by comparing the status of women in Buddhism, Hinduism, Judaism, Christianity, and other pre-Islamic doctrines with that guaranteed by the Prophet Muhammad. All of these pre-Islamic ideologies, she argued, considered women to be impure or sinful beings, unworthy of rights or respect, while Islam treated them with kindness and decency, even 147

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providing them with the means to resist male tyranny and oppression – for instance, by banning abuses against women that were common in the preIslamic age of ignorance, or jahilia, notably female infanticide and unlimited polygamy.16 That she opened her argument in this comparative way – and with reference to those “cultural crimes”, to borrow the phrase of Veena Oldenburg, highlighted in colonial polemic17 – suggests that, implicitly at least, she was offering a direct response to the challenges posed by colonialism. The specific method of her reasoning is perhaps best illustrated by following her argument on the controversial topic of polygamy, as it was put forward in various tracts and speeches. In most contexts, she began by relating how the practice was observed in the jahilia, explaining that, then, men used to marry innumerable orphan girls with the sole purpose of gaining control of their fortunes. Objecting to this kind of excess, the Prophet Muhammad had, she asserted, sought to regulate, though not forbid, the practice by instituting polygamy as a “remedial law,” applicable only in special circumstances and within certain limitations. According to her own reading of the Qur’an, this meant that a man was permitted to take up to four wives if it could be justified by societal reasons, such as war, or personal grounds, for instance the inability of a first wife to bear children or the incompatibility of a husband and wife – though, even then, only on the condition that the husband treated all of his wives with perfect impartiality and justice. If a man indulged in polygamy without a justifiable reason or did not fulfil the conditions imposed by Islam, he deserved to be treated with public derision and scorn.18 At the same time, the Begam recognized that polygamy could have harmful effects that a woman may want to avoid. If this was the case, she suggested that an extra clause could be added to the woman’s marriage contract – similar to that added to her own by her stepfather, Siddiq Hasan (see Chapter 1) – which stated that, if her husband were to take another wife, she would receive special damages or have the option of living apart with a suitable maintenance or even be granted a divorce. If these measures were thought to be necessary, however, the Begam stressed that they needed to be made before the marriage; once the second marriage had gone ahead, it was the first wife’s duty to please and obey her husband, even if he did not treat her with the required fairness.19 Though bounded, Sultan Jahan Begam’s position on polygamy was far more favourable than that taken by her contemporaries in other parts of the Islamic world who had experienced the custom first-hand, notably Malak Hifni Nasif in Egypt and Halidé Edib in Turkey.20 It was also rather more conservative than that expressed by certain other Indian Muslim women at around the same time. At a momentous meeting of the Anjuman-i-Khawatini-Islam in Lahore in 1918, for instance, one of the local organizers, Jahan Ara Shahnawaz, proposed that the conference take a strong stand against the evils of polygamy, arguing that, as the practice was against the true spirit of Islam and contrary to the progress of the Muslim community, educated 148

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Muslim women should do all they could to bring an end to it. According to her own account, this controversial resolution was passed unanimously, suggesting that it must also have had the support of Sultan Jahan Begam’s own superintendent of girls’ schools, Abru Begam, who was presiding over the conference in that year.21 The Muslim press, on the other hand, greeted it with outrage. Though Tahzib un-Niswan, the leading Muslim women’s journal, was in favour, many other Urdu journals for women viciously attacked it. Rashid ul-Khairi, the editor of ‘Ismat, was the most virulent, claiming that the Anjuman’s members had only passed such an anti-Islamic resolution in order to impress their Christian mentors. Not surprisingly, these criticisms touched a nerve with women participants, who publicly insisted that their resolution had emerged from their own Islamic tradition. Although the Qur’an permitted polygamy in certain cases, it also stipulated that a man had to treat all of his wives equally – an impossible task, according to their interpretation. This reality suggested that the spirit of Islam, if not the letter, enjoined monogamy.22 Curiously, Rashid ul-Khairi had actually made this same argument in several of his own novels, including Saukan ka Jalapa (The Sorrow of the Rival Wife). He was unwilling to concede, however, that Muslim women, whom he defined as modest and unassertive, could stand up for their own rights in a public forum.23 What is perhaps more surprising is that the Begam of Bhopal came out in agreement with this patronizing male reformer. In a speech before a grand meeting of the Princess of Wales Ladies’ Club in Bhopal in 1921, she addressed the “enthusiastic” speeches given at the 1918 meeting of the Anjuman in Lahore, arguing, as in her own writings, that polygamy was a necessary institution that had been ordained by the Qur’an in specific circumstances. Though polygamy could be an “intolerable affair,” Muslim women should know better than to “exceed the limits of Allah,” instead trusting that the requirement of impartiality would act as a deterrent to men taking a second wife. Had the Prophet not asserted that an unjust husband would appear before God on Judgement Day “with half his body dangling or paralysed?” In this context, she also admitted that women did have a right to complain should they be badly treated by their husbands. But to make such an “unseemly noise,” passing “impracticable resolutions” in open meetings and conferences was, in her opinion, “rather bold, and exceeding all bounds.”24 Her stance may seem contradictory in light of her assertions that women be required to take responsibility for their own reform, as explored in previous chapters, but it was consistent with her policy of acquiescing to orthodox opinion on controversial issues. To go against laws verified by the holy book of Islam would have been against her incremental approach. Many of the Begam’s opinions, as expressed during the polygamy debate, also hinted at her essential understanding of the relative position of men and women within Islam. Far from being involved in the “gender war” of latter-day Western feminists, she conceived of the sexes as fulfilling com149

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plementary roles in society that were dictated by their distinct natures and constitutions. Hence, as touched upon in Chapter 4, she articulated a renewed theory of biological difference that anticipated later Islamist writers across the Muslim world, but placed her at odds with more radical female intellectuals of her own time, including Nabawiyah Musa in Egypt and Rokeya in Bengal, who insisted that gender roles were socially constructed rather than ordained by nature or religion.25 According to her interpretation, women had been put in charge of domestic responsibilities on the basis that they had the physique to bear children and the tenderness to raise them, while men were required to protect all life and property with their innate physical strength. That was not, significantly, to deny their essential equality. Quoting Surah 33:35 from the Qur’an,26 the Begam argued that Islam made no distinction between the sexes on moral or religious grounds since it was promised that both men and women would be pardoned or rewarded in exactly the same way for honourable behaviour in their separate spheres; women would receive the equivalent spiritual merit for “lighter” acts of devotion, like bearing and raising children or going on pilgrimage to Mecca, that men would receive for attending congregational prayers or fighting in battles. In line with traditional Muslim lawmakers, the Begam recognized that men had been granted slight pre-eminence in the earthly hierarchy since they had the additional charge of taking care of women. But this situation did not lower women’s overall position, instead resulting simply in peace and good governance in the universe.27 Furthermore, Sultan Jahan Begam emphasized that the Prophet Muhammad had granted women many special rights and privileges in compensation for their physical weakness, including mahr and proper maintenance. She also specified that women had a right to inheritance as it was laid out in the Qur’an, though she never questioned or explained why a woman’s share was less than that of her male relatives. Like Sayyid Mumtaz Ali, she also placed emphasis on the idea that husbands were obliged to treat their wives with kindness in non-financial matters – even if, as seen in Chapter 1, the example of her own marriage did not support it – providing them not only with affection, but also with the freedom to visit their families, participate in social and religious circles, and pursue education. Interestingly, this same point was made on several occasions in her writings and speeches with the explicit aim of refuting the assertions of non-Muslims that men were allowed to maltreat their wives in Islam.28 That many of her other points were also directed at a Western audience is suggested by her introduction to Muslim Home, in which she stated explicitly that it was her intention to defend the seemingly repressive practices of her religion to her European contemporaries by explaining their history and continued importance to women in the contemporary age. As she wrote: Like many other things of Islam the Occident has given a very wrong 150

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and, I may say, false notion of the Qur’anic teachings as to the position of woman in Islam . . . I, however, intend to do something to the enlightenment of my sisters in the West on this subject and write [this] book.29 This aim placed her work in line with that of other so-called Muslim apologists, including Ameer Ali and her appointed head of the Woking Muslim Mission, Khwaja Kamaluddin, who similarly wrote to defend Islam before a Western audience.30 In turning from rights to duties, it may be seen that, in return for all that was guaranteed by Islam, a wife was simply obliged to return her husband’s displays of kindness, according to the Begam, showing him obedience, chastity and devotion. This emphasis on the mutual offering of comfort and support reflected the increasing importance being attached in this period, often in response to Victorian ideals of companionate marriage, to the Qur’anic adage that the sexes should “be to each other as ornaments.” (2: 187) The method by which a woman would actually fulfil these duties was a theme that was taken up at length by Muslim female intellectuals across India and other parts of the Islamic world, who, as suggested in Chapter 3, sought to professionalize the household tasks that women performed by imbuing them with a scientific aspect that would elevate their prestige. Sultan Jahan Begam herself published extensively on the topic of “domestic science,” her works including, in the model of her mother’s most well-known text, a 456-page guide to household management, appropriately entitled Khanadari (Housekeeping), and a lengthy treatise on women’s responsibilities, called Faraiz un-Nisa (The Duties of Women). 31 Other women in Bhopal also took up the theme, most notably, the ruling Begam’s prolific daughter-in-law, Maimoona Sultan. In a lecture to the Princess of Wales Ladies’ Club in Bhopal given under the title “The Duties Nature Has Assigned to the Fair Sex and How to Perform Them,” she proclaimed that, if a woman did not effectively manage the household, it would lead to nothing less than the collapse of society. For how, she asked, could a man smoothly conduct national affairs if he had an ill-tempered wife who was extravagant with his income and ignored their children’s education?32 Clearly, the connections between domesticity and the nation – whether identified with India as a whole or the Indian Muslim community specifically – had already been firmly established in the mind of this young Muslim female reformer. Sultan Jahan Begam, too, agreed that domestic stability was essential to the smooth running of a nation, however that may be defined. For this reason, she urged parents to avoid any basic incompatibility between a couple, particularly on the basis of mismatched wealth or standing, when arranging the marriages of their children. That marriages should be arranged was without doubt; as she wrote in her autobiography in a passage relating to her own marriage: “In most Indian families it is still customary for parents to arrange the marriages of their children. And it is right that they should do 151

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so.” She then went on to specify other qualities to be looked for when choosing a husband in a “Muhammadan family of rank”, with “gentle birth” and thrift heading the list, though a “handsome appearance” and “the habits and manners of a gentleman” were also desirable.33 In making these statements, the ruling Begam’s acceptance of an earthly hierarchy in which different class groupings were to remain endogamous is clearly apparent. Similar concerns about incompatibility also led other Muslim female reformers to speak out against child marriage in this same period. At the inaugural meeting of All-India Ladies’ Association held in Bhopal in 1918, for instance, Begam Khadiv Jang from Hyderabad justified resolution ten – in which Indians of all communities were encouraged to oppose the “evil” custom of child marriage – on the basis that early marriages precluded against companionship between a husband and wife – a point that again represented an adaptation of Victorian bourgeois ideals.34 In order to make this declaration more effective, it was also resolved that committees of “influential” women should be formed in various provinces to convince the guardians of young girls that it was detrimental to both their health and morals to marry them before they had reached the age of maturity.35 The Begam of Bhopal’s own views on child marriage were somewhat more complex. In her carefully researched treatise on women’s status in Islam, she gave only the ambiguous ruling that it was “sometimes necessary” to marry minors on which occasion the guardians of the bride and groom should stand in as their representatives in the marriage negotiations. She recognized, however, that both the boy and the girl had the power to dissolve the contract when they came of legal age – on the basis that Islam required the agreement of both parties to marriage.36 Still, early marriage was a practice that she discouraged, particularly when it proved an obstruction to female education. As she stated explicitly in her autobiography, “I do not consider early marriage very desirable either from the medical or social point of view.”37 Yet she also stressed that marriages should not be put off indefinitely, claiming that many evils could result from keeping a young girl unmarried for too long, especially in a hot country like India. This position was motivated neither by convention, nor Islamic injunctions, but instead seemed to emerge out of the Begam’s intuitive feelings on the matter. Her willingness to take a flexible stance was also evident in that she married her own son, Hamidullah, to Maimoona Sultan when they were just seven and five years old respectively. In her autobiography, she defended this act on the basis that, as female education was “universally neglected” among the Muslim community, she had no chance of finding an educated wife for her son before he reached the age of majority and, thus, she had chosen a young bride whom she could educate herself.38 Whatever her motives, it is worth noting that this marriage was not just in name only: Maimoona bore her first child at the age of just 12 and all three of her daughters appearing before her sixteenth birthday. 152

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Like Justice Mahadev Govind Ranade and other child marriage reformers who had married girls nearly 20 years their junior, Sultan Jahan Begam appears to have been chastised for this decision, although subtly, at the above-mentioned meeting of the All-India Ladies’ Association. On that occasion, Miss M.E. Elton, a Christian teacher employed in Bhopal, questioned the inclusion of a resolution on child marriage, arguing that their words were unlikely to carry any weight if their leaders continued to follow the customs that they hoped to eradicate.39 Her comment appears to have been prudently overlooked at the time by the rest of the Association’s members, but, soon after the incident, she disappears rather ominously from Bhopal’s employment records. It may be conjectured, however, that her words pricked the conscience of her esteemed employer, being that there was no attempt to marry her young granddaughters before her death in 1930 – except to the Qur’an itself in their elaborate nashra ceremony described in Chapter 3 – though potential matches had been arranged.40 Indeed, by the time the Dowager Begam took over the presidency of the All-India Women’s Conference in 1928, she was speaking out vehemently against child marriage. On that occasion, she even identified that a trade-off was occurring between women of different communities: Muslim women would support Hindu women in the campaign to raise the age of marriage if Hindu women supported them in their efforts to reduce purdah restrictions. This situation appears to have been unique within the Islamic world; although Muslim and Christian feminists worked together in Egypt, they never became involved in campaigns to reform the personal status codes of the other.41 In doing so, Indian Muslim women found themselves in conflict with male leaders of their community as never before. To be sure, one of the key achievements of the 1928 meeting of the AIWC was that deputations on child marriage were organized to wait on the Viceroy and other political leaders, which included prominent Muslim women, including Begam Hamid Ali and Begam Sarbuland Jang. Representing the All-India Muslim League, Muhammad Ali Jinnah condemned their case in strong terms on the basis that any attempt to curb the custom would conflict with Islamic law.42 Sultan Jahan Begam was somewhat sympathetic to this position, using her concluding remarks to the 1928 conference to warn the women in attendance not to brashly attack certain customs that were believed to have the sanction of religion. This approach, she argued, could lead to “unpleasant controversies” that could be harmful to their cause, thus demonstrating a pragmatism that was central to her programme of reform throughout her life, as already exemplified in connection with the polygamy debate.43 Regardless, it was not long before Muslim women, including the Dowager Begam herself, found themselves again under zealous attack from male Muslim leaders, including Dr Ansari and Mohamed Ali, over their support for the Sarda Act to raise the age of marriage. Despite these threats, Muslim women upheld their 153

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alliance with Hindu women on this issue, presenting memorials to the Viceroy in which they deliberately disputed the opinions of Muslim men.44 In time, however, a divide did occur between women of different communities over the matter of legal reform. Unlike their Hindu sisters, many Muslim women seemed to feel then, as now, that their rights would be better protected by Muslim personal law, as defined in the shari‘at, than by a uniform civil code. This reason has been put forward to explain why Muslim women remained a small and separate group within the AIWC.45 Another legal matter relating to marriage that garnered Sultan Jahan Begam’s attention was divorce. In her tracts and speeches, she discouraged any attempt to bring about the dissolution of marriage, claiming that divorce was “hateful” to God and condemned in the Muslim law books. Only in “impossible” situations was it permitted such as when a man neglected, deprived, or unduly beat his wife – circumstances also spelled out in her own marriage contract (see chapter one) – or she flagrantly “misbehaved.” In these circumstances, the Begam recognized women’s right to initiate divorce, a practice known as khul‘, while also rejecting the procedure of pronouncing the three formulas of divorce on one occasion, thus following the example of Ameer Ali and Sayyid Mumtaz Ali before her. She also confirmed that a woman retained her right to mahr, her personal estate and even remarriage – a practice otherwise condemned by the Begam, as noted in Chapter 1 – if her husband divorced her, though she lost the right to the first if she initiated the proceedings herself.46 What is also interesting in this context is that the ruling Begam upheld these ideas in practice, as well as in theory. Upon hearing of the Nawab of Rampur’s divorce from Chhami Begam, sister of the Nawab of Jaora, in 1922, she wrote him a vitriolic letter in which she claimed that his “egregious folly” was a “grave and national wrong,” evoking not Islam, but the “Afghan’s code of honour” to support her stance. Surely, she asked, he could “not yet have so far descended the slough of moral degeneration and abysmal turpitude” as to have brought this “infamy and disgrace” upon his “illustrious home?”47 Upon finding that he had, she turned her attention to advising the Nawab of Jaora on how to best help his sister in her abandoned state, quoting Hanafi law as it related to illtreatment to justify her claims for maintenance, mahr, and other moveable property still in Rampur.48 In trying to bring Indian marriage practices in line with Qur’anic injunctions, the Begam of Bhopal did not just target those customs that were implemented by male lawmakers in a way that was detrimental to women. She also directed her reforming zeal at “unnecessary and superstitious” rituals that had, according to her interpretation, been adopted from the majority Hindu community by Muslim women themselves. Above all, she entreated women – in speeches to the Princess of Wales Ladies’ Club in Bhopal and elsewhere – to organize marriage ceremonies in the simple, practical manner that was common in the early years of Islam, rather than 154

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wasting the community’s limited resources on large dowries, excessive mahr, and extravagant wedding parties. She gave the example of Fatima, the daughter of the Prophet, who, she asserted, had been provided with only a sieve, a leather cushion, a quilt, and a hand mill on the occasion of her marriage to Ali. If wealthy families feared that they would be censured for their frugality, she suggested that they donate any extra funds to charitable causes for the good of the Muslim community, such as scholarship or marriage funds for poor girls and orphans.49 In urging women to relinquish customary marriage celebrations, she resembled Muslim intellectuals from across the reformist spectrum, who, whether in their desire for Islamic correctness or increased financial stringency or both, failed to recognize that these occasions offered rare opportunities for purdah-bound women to seek influence and amusement outside their homes.50 Unlike many of her male contemporaries, however, Sultan Jahan Begam did provide alternative opportunities for autonomous female gatherings, a development that will be discussed in the following section.

Fostering sisterhood The issue of women’s rights and duties within Islam became intertwined with the establishment of reformist organizations in the late nineteenth century when Sayyid Ahmad Khan founded the Muhammadan Educational Conference (MEC) with the explicit aim of extending the influence of the Aligarh movement to Muslims throughout India. Established in 1886, it coordinated existing regional efforts for Muslim social and educational reform, including the Anjuman-i-Himayat-i-Islam (founded 1884) in Punjab and the Anjumani-Islam (founded 1876) in Bombay, inclining them towards the Aligarh method with its emphasis on eschewing useless customs not considered in-keeping with textual Islam.51 As seen in earlier chapters, this approach encouraged many of these organizations to address themselves to “the woman question,” particularly through the espousal of female education, but it was only in the 1890s that the MEC began promoting this cause with a separate women’s section being created in 1896.52 In this context, it should be recognized that male reformers within the Hindu community had, from as early as the first decades of the nineteenth century, established organizations intended to improve the status of women by combatting child marriage, polygamy and sati, as well as prohibitions on female education and widow remarriage. They soon realized, however, that women themselves needed to be involved in the process of changing attitudes within their communities, as they were fundamental to perpetuating customary practices. By the late nineteenth century, women from all over India were being prompted to start new associations for the advancement of women’s rights, often as auxiliaries to male organizations. Though these male-guided initiatives provided valuable experience to women who had never before been involved in public 155

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work, they also restricted women’s activities to the concerns of male reformers.53 Indian Muslim women, on the other hand, did not have even these opportunities until the early twentieth century, when a first attempt was made to convene a national Muslim women’s meeting in conjunction with a session of the Female Section of the MEC held at Aligarh in 1905. Unlike the exhibition of women’s crafts held at the same time, however, it was not greeted with favour. For many months beforehand, the merit of convening such a gathering was debated in the Indian press. Many women expressed their opinion that a formal ladies’ conference was needed to spread the “benefits of progress and culture,” while others argued that it would be limited in its effectiveness by women’s lack of education, poor social status, and purdah restrictions.54 Reformist male opinion can be surmised in that, though Shaikh Abdullah felt the proposal was premature, he agreed to arrange accommodation so that the ladies could hold a meeting if they wished, but disapproval expressed by other members of the MEC meant that provisions for a room on the Aligarh campus had to be changed at the last minute. Clearly, there was a feeling that the reputation of Aligarh College and the MEC alike could be damaged by connections with a women’s meeting. Regardless, it went ahead and Zehra Fyzee, having travelled from Bombay, presided over a gathering attended by about 40 women.55 Though the meeting was small, it must be understood as a historic occasion for Muslim women, who had never before joined formally with other women from across India to discuss the amelioration of their sex. Yet, without the support of even more moderate thinkers, like Shaikh Abdullah, or a highly influential woman, like the Begam of Bhopal, the effort petered out. Nevertheless, as noted in Chapter 4, attempts were made before long to establish local organizations in which Muslim women could define their own interests and plan their own activities. In Bhopal, the Princess of Wales Ladies’ Club provided a first opportunity for women to meet outside their homes and gain experience in political organization. This aim was made explicit in the Decennial Report in which it was stated that the club gave women the opportunity, not only educate themselves, but also to partake in “all sorts of intellectual, moral and national movements.”56 The focus remained on philanthropic activities, with Bhopali women building on the Islamic tradition of creating auqaf (s. waqf) to finance social services by making and collecting financial donations to a variety of national causes in the years before the First World War, notably the Muslim University Fund, the Indian Relief Fund, the Red Crescent Society, and the St John’s Ambulance Corps.57 That these campaigns, portrayed as religious or educational in nature despite their political content, opened up opportunities for Bhopal’s women outside the home is suggested by the Begam’s speech to the club on the occasion of a meeting held in connection with the Muslim University Fund. She encouraged her female audience, not only to subscribe to the 156

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movement themselves, but also to collect small donations from poor women in their neighbourhoods – justifying this exhortation on that basis that, as it was a Muslim University, “every Muhammadan, rich or poor, should try to help it according to his or her means.”58 The crisis situation brought out about by the war and the subsequent conflict in Afghanistan inspired Bhopali women to initiate even more practical relief work. They collected clothes and blankets and also made khaki kurtas for the Red Cross Society, under the direction of the young Maimoona Sultan, just as had been done by elite Turkish women during the Balkan Wars.59 There were also opportunities for Bhopali women to meet with other women in a practical expression of female autonomy at “extraordinary” meetings hosted by the club, some of which were described as being of a “national and political character.”60 These grand gatherings, nearly 100 of which were held in the first 11 years of the club’s existence, attracted prominent women from all over India, including Suhrawardy Begam of Calcutta, Nafis Dulhan of Aligarh, Mrs Maqbul Husain of Lucknow, the Begam of Kurwai, Atiya and Zehra Fyzee of Bombay and their sister, Nazli, the Begam of Janjira, and Munawwar Jahan Begam, the wife of the Nawab of Junagadh and niece of the Begam of Bhopal. The latter even attended the gala celebrations in honour of Sultan Jahan’s twentieth accession anniversary in 1921 with all of her companions from the Gujarati state into which she had married.61 On the basis of this list, one may conjecture that these meetings in Bhopal played a significant role in the process of forging links between Muslim women of different families and areas, thus contributing to the growth of an Indian Muslim identity, though Hindu, Parsi, and Christian women were invited as well; to take just two examples, Cornelia Sorabji and the Maharani of Dewas attended at different points.62 The most eminent guests, however, were the vicereines and the wives of other high British officials, including Lady Minto, Lady Hardinge, Lady Meston, Lady O’Dwyer, and Mrs Daly, who were brought to the club by the wives of Bhopal’s political agents during tours of the state to meet the elite of Bhopal’s female society, give addresses, and play games. Of these, Lady Hardinge appears to have made the greatest impression when she discussed her initiatives for Indian women – specifically the women’s medical college at Delhi – before soliciting donations for her fund to assist Turkish widows and orphans.63 This broadening of Bhopali women’s social sphere to include women not only from abroad, but also from the large, cosmopolitan cities of British India, must have had a tremendous impact on those for whom it would have been exceptional to meet women outside their family at this time. Although personal accounts are not available to confirm this point, comparisons may be drawn with elite women in Egypt who underwent a similar process of socialization. Sha‘rawi, for example, notes in her memoirs that the expansion of her limited circle of friends and relations to include Turkish and French women, as well as other Egyptian women, had a major effect on the 157

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development of her thought by introducing her to new intellectual and feminist ideas. As she wrote rather poetically in connection with her attendance at the first women’s salon in Cairo in the late 1890s (an event she attended at the encouragement of Eugénie Le Brun, a Frenchwoman married to the future Egyptian Prime Minister, Husayn Rushdy): “[this event] nourished my mind and spirit.”64 Interestingly, the frequent social intermingling of Europeans and Indians at the ladies’ club in Bhopal – a rather unusual occurrence for the time – was perceived by members to be beneficial to both parties. As it was stated in the Decennial Report, Indian women were found to have “profited” from the educational and social advancement of their “European sisters,” while the latter were “greatly affected” by the morals and culture of the former.65 This identification of India with moral virtue in opposition to a West acknowledged for its educational achievements, particularly in reference to science and technology, may be seen to represent Bhopali women’s participation in a nationalist discourse – often hidden due to the ruling Begam’s loyalist stance – that was only to become more allembracing in the years leading up to independence. An occasion on which Sultan Jahan Begam herself expressed what may be interpreted as nationalist sentiments was the inaugural meeting of the Bharat Stree Mahamandal, a broadly based Indian women’s organization founded by the Bengali activist, singer, and writer, Saraladevi Chaudhurani, in Allahabad in 1910. As the ruling Begam had already arranged to visit the Allahabad Industrial Exhibition in the same month, she agreed to be a member of the new association and attend the first meeting, although she declined to be its first president on the basis that she already had too many existing duties as the ruler of a state. Her reactions to the Mahamandal, however, were mixed. While she admired the speeches of the Begam of Janjira as president, Saraladevi as secretary, Cornelia Sorabji, and several European ladies, she questioned why all the proceedings had to be in English. As many of the Indian women present were unable to understand the addresses, she found herself giving an impromptu summary of each speech in Urdu. She lamented this situation in her autobiography in terms reminiscent of her justification of Urdu girls’ schooling: “I regard speeches in English as altogether out of place on occasions of this description. Their only effect is to weary the audience and reduce the attendance at subsequent meetings.”66 The importance of this issue to her is suggested in that, in her presidential speech to the All-India Women’s Conference nearly 20 years later, she again argued that conference proceedings should be carried out in a vernacular language, asserting that, to do so, would not only be practical, but would also illustrate their pride in Indian culture.67 An appropriate parallel may be drawn here with Pandita Ramabai who, as Meera Kosambi has noted, expressed her commitment as early as 1889 to “ousting English as an unwelcome foreign usurper” in a move that “anticipated independent India’s linguistic policy by more than half a century.”68 158

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The Begam of Bhopal’s participation in the Bharat Stree Mahamandal, if only on that one occasion, also points to steps taken outside her state in the years before the First World War to develop a network that would link women from across the subcontinent. When visiting Aligarh to lay the foundation stone for the new girls’ hostel in 1910, for instance, she met with Begam Mushtaq Hussain and the wives of other Aligarh luminaries for informal discussions that were continued the following year when she returned to preside over the female section of the MEC – an event also attended by women leaders belonging to the Hindu community, including Sarojini Naidu and Saraladevi Chaudhurani. Interestingly, in her description of this meeting in her autobiography, she revealed the reasons behind her willingness to collaborate in years to come with one, but not the other, of these high profile nationalists; while the former was said to have spoken with “much earnestness and good sense” – a judgement not too surprising being that Mrs Naidu, like the Begam, focussed in all of her speeches on the need to cultivate female education so that women could, as wives and mothers, assist in the regeneration of the nation69 – the latter was deemed to have made too many references to national politics than were appropriate at a explicitly non-political gathering.70 Unmindful of her censure, Saraladevi went on to become a prominent political figure within the Indian National Congress, making bold statements on women’s rights that were rare for her time. She also continued to promote the Bharat Stree Mahamandal with branches of the association founding girls’ schools, widows’ shelters, and industrial training centres throughout India, though, following the Begam’s lead, Muslim women were never to be involved in large numbers.71 In 1910, Sultan Jahan Begam also took advantage of the social setting of a purdah party in Simla hosted by Lady Dane, the wife of Punjab’s LieutenantGovernor, to meet other leading Indian women, some of whom were the wives of prominent Indian politicians, namely, Lady Harnam Singh and Mrs Sinha, and some of whom were from other princely states, including Maler Kotla and Loharu.72 In this connection, it is worth noting that the women of Maler Kotla in particular were later to become renowned in the field of women’s social reform after the daughter of Nawab Sir Zulfiqar Ali Khan, Qudsia Begam, married Sayyid Aizaz Rasul, a taluqdar from the United Provinces, gave up purdah, and became a leading member of the AIWC and the Muslim League.73 Soon after their meeting, the ruling Begam also made connections with a number of newly founded regional women’s organizations, not only offering essential financial backing, but also visiting certain clubs personally to offer guidance and support. Her visit to the Anjuman-iKhawatin-i-Islam in Lahore in 1913 was typical of this development. At a ceremony to lay the foundation stone of the Sultania Muhammadan Ladies’ Hall, she evangelized on her own reformist vision, as it had already undergone trials in her own state, by admiring the work completed by women of the club, particularly in the field of religious education, before urging them 159

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to extend aid to poorer women of the district by opening up opportunities in nursing, midwifery, and teaching. She then gave her permission for the new meeting hall to be named after her, contending that this act symbolized the unity and cooperation between the women of Bhopal and Punjab from which the whole Muslim nation would benefit.74 These casual relationships made between Muslim women of different regions in the years leading up to the First World War were formalized in March 1914 when it was agreed to organize a national meeting on the pattern of that held in 1905 on the occasion of the inauguration of the recently completed Aligarh Girls’ School hostel. By that time, the attitude of the Muslim community towards women’s involvement in public movements had changed dramatically, with Muslim women having been summoned into the political arena in the intervening years by male leaders, like Maulana Abdul Bari and the Ali brothers, who sought to utilize women’s moral authority to bolster their religious and educational movements, notably the Anjuman-iKhuddam-i-Ka‘aba. In that connection, women-only meetings were held in Delhi and Lucknow for the relatives of male leaders and the disciples of Abdul Bari at which money and jewellery were collected for the defense of both the khalifa and the holy places of Islam. Prominent female leaders, including Abadi Banu Begam (known as Bi Amman), the mother of the Ali brothers, and Begam Ansari, the wife of Dr M.A. Ansari, justified women’s participation on the basis that it was a strictly religious organization. In order to placate more conservative elements of Muslim society, they also emphasized familial relations – addressing their audiences, in the words of Gail Minault, as “fictive sisters and daughters,” just as was being done by the Begam of Bhopal – and encouraged women to donate their personal wealth in the traditional form of gold ornaments.75 The time was ripe for women to establish an autonomous women’s organization devoted exclusively to Muslim women’s issues – as long as it continued to operate firmly within the bounds of customary norms. The first meeting of the Anjuman-i-Khawatin-i-Islam (or All-India Muslim Ladies’ Conference) was attended by a highly elite group of around 300 educated Muslim women, most of whom were able to pursue reformist projects as a result of their relationship with prominent Indian politicians. The Begam of Janjira, for instance, was, as noted in Chapter 2, not only the wife of a princely ruler, but also a niece of Badruddin Tyabji, while Abru Begam and Fatima Begam were the sisters of Maulana Abul Kalam Azad. The executive officers and working committee, as elected by the founding members of the Conference, also reflected this socio-economic background, as well as certain geographical constraints. Though the Begam of Bhopal was confirmed as president and Waheeda Begam Yaqub from Lahore as vicepresident, both the joint-secretary and honorary secretary, Nafis Dulhan Sherwani and Begam Abdullah, were from Aligarh. The working committee was also made up almost exclusively of female relatives of the influential 160

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group of Aligarh trustees who controlled the College and the MEC. Only a few members were selected from outside Aligarh, including Zehra Fyzee from Bombay and Iqtidar Dulhan from Bhopal – though the latter, too, was originally from Aligarh, being the daughter of Nawab Muhammad Ishaq Khan, the honorary secretary of Aligarh College.76 Attempts were made, however, to reach beyond these bounds with resolutions being passed in which it was asserted that members should convene the Anjuman once a year in a different city, open branches of the organization in their own towns and cities, and personally contribute to women’s journalism in order to create unity and fellowship among Muslim women.77 Nevertheless, the composition of the Anjuman guaranteed that it, like concurrent efforts in Egypt and Ottoman Turkey, would hardly, if at all, reach Muslim women of the lower classes or other regions.78 In this way, it may be compared to its “brother” organization, the All-India Muslim League, which similarly represented a faction of ashraf Muslims predominantly from the United Provinces, despite its avowedly national affiliation.79 On the outbreak of the First World War, Sultan Jahan Begam, as the Conference’s president, even wrote to the Viceroy on behalf of the “Muslim ladies of India” to offer their assistance in any way they may be useful, assuring him that, at the very least, they would all be praying for a British victory.80 Her statement reveals how the urban, educated women who were the sole members of the Conference believed that they represented every Muslim woman in India, an assumption that, though well-meaning, effectively eclipsed the problems faced by other groups of women, whether of a social, economic, or political nature, while, at the same time, denying those women the right to speak for themselves. And these limitations were only to be exacerbated in years to come. As Minault has noted, the continued dominance of the group from Aligarh caused major disagreements within the Anjuman when attempts were made to challenge it, first at a controversial meeting at Lahore in 1918, then at equally fractious meeting in Calcutta the subsequent year.81 Sultan Jahan Begam herself failed to attend any more meetings after the inaugural session in 1914, though her educational deputy, Abru Begam, was a regular presence in the first few years. The ruling Begam also continued to support the association with a generous monthly stipend – for which she was regularly eulogized at conferences82 – until shortly before her death; she withdrew it to express her disappointment with the organization, which was, by then, practically defunct, causing it to go bankrupt and, before long, fold completely.83 It should be recognized, however, that Muslim women were involved in fostering a more inclusive Indian sisterhood in the same period, specifically through the establishment of the All-India Ladies’ Association. Indeed, the form and content of the first session, held in Bhopal in late March 1918, highlight the role played by Muslim women from this state in uniting Indian women from a range of different communities and regions under their 161

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leadership. Consider, to begin with, the identities of the delegates. Predictably, the president of the Association was Sultan Jahan Begam herself, while the president of the Reception Committee was, as at the All-India Ladies’ Art Exhibition held in Bhopal in 1914, her youngest daughter-in-law, Maimoona Sultan. A multitude of other Muslim women from the Princess of Wales Ladies’ Club, the Sultania Girls’ School, and other model institutions in Bhopal were also active participants in the conference. These included female educationalists and medical staff such as Abru Begam, Fatima Begam, and Bismillah Khanam, as well as large numbers of Bhopal’s ruling family. Prominent among this latter group was Sardar Dulhan, author of a book on court ceremonies in the state, and Iqtidar Dulhan, already a member of the working committee of the Muslim Ladies’ Conference, as noted above. Of course, not all of the Bhopali participants were Muslims. Mrs Baksh, the superintendent of Sultania Girls’ School, and Miss F.M. Simmonds, a European “lady doctor” at the Lady Landsdowne Hospital, among others, represented the tiny but prominent Christian community within the state. The majority Hindu community, however, made a poor showing. This balance highlights the elite nature of the conference in that, within Bhopal, it was largely Muslims plus a few Christians who were identified with government and other high-status pursuits.84 Despite the avowedly national character of the meeting, only a small number of delegates actually attended from outside Bhopal, thus allowing a parallel to be drawn with the regional limitations of the earlier Muslim Ladies’ Conference. It is worth looking at their identities in some detail, however, in order to explore further the economic, regional, and religious make-up of the Conference. With regard to the first consideration, it should be noted that all of the visitors were fairly eminent. Of particular distinction were Nafis Dulhan, Begam Sarbuland Jang, and Begam Khwaja Majid, all of whom were wives and daughters of Aligarh College trustees. They joined women of the wealthy merchant families of Bombay, including Zehra Fyzee and Mrs Mohsin Badruddin Tyabji, who they had met at earlier Muslim ladies’ meetings. A conspicuous delegation of the wives of rulers and state officials also arrived from the princely states. Both Hindu and Muslim, they included Begam Humayon Mirza, Begam Amir Hasan, and Begam Khadiv Jang from Hyderabad, Mrs Hemanta Kumari Chowdhury from Patiala and the Begam of Janjira. Also in attendance was the well-known poet and nationalist leader, Sarojini Naidu. Other Hindu women, including Sarup Kumari Nehru, sister of nationalist leader and later Prime Minister of India, Jawaharlal Nehru, were invited but could not attend. Nevertheless, it is a clear that the first meeting of the Association played an important role in uniting Muslim, Christian, and Hindu women from across India.85 Sultan Jahan Begam’s pamphlet written in 1916 to advertise the proposed conference also points to the emphasis placed within the Association on Indian women taking responsibility for their own reform through indepen162

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dent women’s organizations. In that context, she recognized that a bright group of Muslim women had emerged, thanks to earlier male reformist efforts, to found sectarian organizations such as the All-India Muslim Ladies’ Conference, that were valuable though limited in scope. What was now required was for Muslim women to unite with women of other communities, with whom their interests were “dexterously interwoven,” in forming a strong national association. It was only in that way that Indian women could become a powerful pressure group capable of achieving “unbounded” social and educational reforms.86 This point was reiterated in her presidential speech at the opening of the inaugural conference.87 At the outset, she paid tribute to the work accomplished by existing women’s organizations, including the Muslim Ladies’ Conference, the Bengal Ladies’ Conference, the Seva Sadan, and the Bharat Stree Mahamandal, asserting that, though plagued by geographic and sectarian limitations, they proved what Indian women were capable of contributing themselves towards the movement for women’s rights. At the same time, however, they highlighted the need for an “all-embracing and central” organization to represent women of all castes, creeds, and denominations. Was it not true, the Begam asked, that all Indian woman, whether Hindu, Muslim, Christian, or Parsi, required educational, social, and legal reform?88 These statements suggest the way in which she conceived of the relationship between sectarian and non-sectarian, regional and national organizations; the former were fundamental for introducing Indian women to reformist issues and the techniques of public work, but only the latter could initiate real change. In subsequent sections of her speech, Sultan Jahan Begam sought to promote this much-needed unity among women of the Association. The method that she employed was to refer to historical figures and reformist efforts, not only in the Muslim community, but also among Hindus, Parsis, and Christians. Specifically, she admired Hindu reformist projects, like D.K. Karve’s widows’ home in Bombay, which had never before been alluded to in her speeches, before calling upon her listeners to emulate “great women” as diverse as Aisha, Sita, Florence Nightingale, Humai Bahman, Draupadi, Nur Jahan, Sakuntala, Madame Montessori, Khadija, Ramabai Saraswati, Fatima, and Anandibai Joshi, among others.89 Resolutions passed by the Association over the subsequent four days also spoke to this theme of women’s autonomy. Local groups, for instance, were to be established to promote social intercourse between the women of different provinces, nationalities, and religions, as had been done in Bhopal in the form of the Princess of Wales Ladies’ Club.90 With this aim in mind, the women also agreed to extend the scope of the All-India Ladies’ Exhibition, as held earlier in Bhopal, and make a contribution to women’s journalism by publishing a national journal in English, Urdu, and Hindi to provide useful information on the organization and other women’s activities.91 None of these planned practical measures appear to have come to fruition, but the 163

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way in which they were conceived, even in theory, suggests the way in which these women in Bhopal, like their contemporaries in the Middle East, had become aware of a national sisterhood, spanning caste and creed, which existed alongside their Muslim identity. Although the All-India Ladies’ Association had agreed to convene the following year in Bhopal, a second conference was not announced until 1920, when the professed objects, as articulated in the resolutions, were detailed in women’s journals and special pamphlets.92 By that time, however, Mohandas K. Gandhi had launched the first of his civil disobedience campaigns in an event that marked a crucial juncture in the history of colonial modernity in that it tilted the balance between imperialist and nationalist struggles while bringing to the fore competing subaltern agendas. As Mrinalini Sinha has noted, this shift had dramatic effects on Indian women activists in that it forced them to abandon their neutral stance in favour of “tak[ing] sides” in the political stand-off between the colonial government and Indian nationalists.93 The All-India Ladies’ Association made its position clear by explicitly shunning politics or any other “controversial” subject that would represent a break with women’s “traditional” sphere of activity.94 This proviso must have sat uneasily with some of its members, notably Begam Humayon Mirza and Begam Khwaja Majid, who, even at the inaugural meeting, had been eager to discuss more political topics, such as Home Rule, when the Conference was out of session.95 In the midst of the Khilafat movement two years later, they could not have helped but express opinions that would have jeopardized the loyalist stance of other women leaders, including the Begam of Bhopal herself, were the association to convene. Seemingly as a consequence, the second meeting did not materialize. The validity of this interpretation is suggested in that, when the founder of the openly political Women’s Indian Association, Margaret Cousins, wrote to the ruling Begam in 1921, encouraging her to support the fledgling Madras-based association and its journal, Stridharma, she did not even receive a reply.96 Once the political upheaval of the early 1920s had subsided, however, the idea of Muslim involvement in an all-India women’s organization was revived, if only for a fairly short time. In 1924, Sultan Jahan Begam herself offered a favourable reply to a letter from Hilla Rustomji Farindooji in connection with the establishment of the National Council of Women in India (NCWI). What she and other women from Bombay were attempting, on the suggestion of the Marchioness of Aberdeen, was to affiliate women’s organizations in India with the International Council of Women that had been established in the United States of America in 1888 to advance women’s social, economic, and political rights. For advice, Faridoonji naturally turned to the Begam of Bhopal as a respected reformist leader with whom she had earlier made friendly connections at social gatherings in England and India. Though the ruling Begam was eager to assist, she was not 164

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able to at this time as she was occupied with the fatal illnesses of her two elder sons.97 Nevertheless, a year later, Cornelia Sorabji, as a representative of the International Council of Women, again wrote to her to request her involvement, explaining that members of the newly formed NCWI desired her, as the “foremost Indian lady,” to be the organization’s first president.98 As she was in the midst of the succession dispute with the British government, she once again refused an active role, but she did agree to be a life patron of the organization, along with the Maharani of Baroda, another reforming princess, and Lady Dorab Tata, the wife of India’s most important industrialist. Along with the wealthy and titled women that ran the NCWI, they dedicated themselves to petitioning the government to bring about limited change to women’s health and welfare, an approach that distanced the organization from nationalist politics and the majority of Indian women, and limited its effectiveness, particularly in the years leading up to Indian independence.99 More constructive was the All-India Women’s Conference, which was founded in Poona in 1927 to bring together educated Indian women, regardless of caste or creed, in fulfilment of those aspirations expressed by the Begam of Bhopal nearly ten years before at the first meeting of the All-India Ladies’ Association. In recognition of her pioneering efforts for female emancipation, the now Dowager Begam was asked accept the presidency when it met in Delhi the following year. Having accepted, she was accompanied from Bhopal by a lively delegation that consisted of several educationalists, including Abru Begam, Fatima Begam, Miss Oliphant, and Miss S.M. Paul; her three spirited granddaughters; and the new Begam of Bhopal, Maimoona Sultan. The meeting was also well attended by a number of politically active Muslim women from elsewhere in India, including Begam Ansari, Begam Mohamed Ali, Begam Sarbuland Jang, Begam Shareefah Hamid Ali, Begam Shahnawaz, and Lady Abdul Qadir, several of whom were to play key roles in the AIWC in years to come. Shareefah Hamid Ali, for instance, was, in turn, to fulfil the positions of honorary treasurer, chairwoman, vice-president, and, ultimately, in 1940, president, as well as acting as the organization’s representative at the Istanbul congress of the International Alliance of Women in 1934.100 In her presidential speech, Sultan Jahan Begam justified their involvement by reasserting the importance of women uniting across religious lines, even chastising Indian men with surprising candidness for their communal tendencies. As she stated: “It is most gratifying to see that a noble cause [namely, female education] has wiped out differences which are the natural outcome of ignorance and narrow-mindedness, the two chief causes of friction and disunion, now unhappily rampant among our brothers in India.”101 As noted in the previous section, Gail Minault has attributed Muslim women’s unwillingness to participate in the AIWC in large numbers in the 1930s to the issue of legal reform, while Geraldine Forbes has posited that 165

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the organization itself actually discouraged their attendance by legitimizing its activities through a “golden age” ideology, as discussed earlier in this chapter.102 Mahua Sarkar has developed this latter theory further with regard to colonial Bengal, noting that by as early as 1913 Hindu-Brahmo women had so excluded Muslim women from the nationalist discourse that “mythical Aryan women” could be held up as ideas for “modern Indian womanhood” as a whole.103 In the Dowager Begam’s speech, however, she actually sought to build an alliance between Indian women by quoting the “heroic deeds” performed by women of the past, whether Hindu, Muslim, Christian, or Parsi, just as in her speech to the All-India Ladies’ Association in 1918.104 Clearly, the issue of which community was to blame for the “fall” in Indian history had not become as critical to Muslim female leaders – for whom the political game was still new – as it had to their Hindu counterparts. That is not say that Sultan Jahan Begam did not recognize that Muslim women had their own concerns as well. In her autobiography, Begam Shahnawaz recounted that it was at this meeting that the Dowager Begam met with her to encourage her to rejuvenate the practically defunct Muslim Ladies’ Conference so that Muslim women would have “an association of their own” alongside the AIWC.105 Though her wish was not fulfilled, it demonstrates how a Muslim sisterhood could sit comfortably alongside an Indian one. In her concluding remarks to the Conference, Sultan Jahan Begam noted that the “interest and enthusiasm” displayed by the women in attendance augured well for the future of the AIWC and the women’s movement in general.106 Her optimism proved well founded in that, of all the associations established in the early twentieth century, the AIWC has continued to be the pre-eminent Indian women’s organization, involving thousands of members in more than 500 branches throughout the country by the early 1990s, even if, as members themselves recognize, it has remained “middle class in its composition” and proved unable to reach the majority of Indian women.107 Due to her advancing age and frail physique, any further involvement by the Dowager Begam herself was curtailed after the meeting in 1928. While she and Maimoona Sultan remained on the list of patronesses, neither was actively involved in the years to come. No branch of the AIWC was started in Bhopal until much later, nor did the state send delegates to subsequent meetings.108 The Begam’s impact continued to be felt, however, in that many of the sentiments expressed in her presidential speech were repeated in speeches in the 1930s.109 At the same time, other women expressed their sentiment that early women’s organizations – from the Princess of Wales Ladies’ Club in Bhopal to the All-India Women’s Conference itself – had given them the training to participate in more overtly political activities in the future; as Begam Shahnawaz explained in her autobiography, it was these early women’s meetings that prepared her to be a “leader of tomorrow.”110 The way in which Sultan Jahan Begam herself participated in 166

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debates relating to the political rights of women will be discussed in the following section.

Disputing suffrage The first three decades of the twentieth century were a time when dramatic changes occurred in terms of political rights for women, not only in Europe and North America, but also around the world. If 1900 dawned with a formidable, if ageing, queen at the helm of the British Empire, the ideal, if not the reality, of universal adult suffrage was firmly established in the minds of many colonial subjects by 1930. In the British context, the First World War has been understood to have played an important role in achieving the latter aim in that it gave women of all social groups the opportunity to enter the labour market to perform previously male-dominated tasks in factories and fields, thus enhancing their social and economic status. The role of suffragettes, most famously, Emmeline Pankhurst and her daughters, Sylvia and Christabel, must also not be overlooked. Their dramatic public displays, including street-corner meetings and rallies, drew attention to the exclusion of women from the vote from the establishment of the Women’s Social and Political Union in 1903.111 Upon observing one of these suffragette meetings on a street corner in London, the Turkish désenchantée, Zeyneb Hanoum, recorded her antipathy to these developments: “What an insult to womanhood . . . to have to bandy words with this vulgar mob.”112 Nevertheless, by 1930, Turkish women themselves were voting in local elections – notably before women in many European countries, including France and Italy – as a result of the Kemalist Revolution.113 In most parts of Asia and the Islamic world, however, the fight for women’s political rights remained closely tied to nationalist movements, as exemplified by the case of Iran where women first demanded enfranchisement as part of the constitutional agitations that followed the Russian invasion of the north of the country in 1911.114 In India, too, many women became active participants in the movement for female suffrage in connection with the nationalist movement. This campaign itself began in earnest in December 1917, when Sarojini Naidu led the first all-India women’s delegation to discuss the issue of women’s political and civic rights as part of the consultations leading up to the Montagu– Chelmsford reforms. Members of the delegation – which included Muslim women, like Begam Hasrat Mohani – requested that Indian women be granted the status of “people” within a self-governing nation of the British Empire.115 Sarojini Naidu clarified their position at a special section of the Indian National Congress held in Bombay in the autumn of 1918, declaring that women should be given the vote on the same qualifications as men. With this assertion, she rejected the more piecemeal approach advocated by Egyptian women, as led by Huda Sha‘rawi, in which the vote would be 167

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restricted, at least initially, to women of property or education.116 Her uncompromising stance was tempered, however, by her claim that female suffrage was necessary, not so that women could compete with men in the public sphere, but so that they could continue to fulfil their domestic duties. As she explained: We ask for franchise, we ask for the vote, not that we might interfere with you in your official functions, your civic duties, your public place and power, but rather that we might lay the foundation of national character in the souls of the children that we hold upon our laps, and instil them with the ideals of nationality. We want the franchise for them so that we might glorify the dirt, the degradation of civil life, that we might be able, by our own implacable ideas of moral purity, to cleanse our public life.117 Her appeal to tradition, as it had been reconstructed in line with Victorian bourgeois ideals, was clearly appreciated by her male audience with the resolution in favour of women’s suffrage being passed with a 75 per cent majority.118 The effect was that, when the Southborough Franchise Committee toured India in 1918, petitions in favour of women’s franchise were received from a wide range of political organizations, including Congress and the All-India Muslim League. These petitions were signed by a long and varied list of prominent Indian men and women – from Saraladevi Chaudhurani and Lady Abbas Ali Baig to Khwaja Kamaluddin and the Aga Khan, among many others. Relevant to this context is that the Begam of Bhopal was approached in connection with this appeal by Mrs Constance Mary VilliersStuart, the organizing secretary of the Indian Women’s Education Association, who urged her to support the committee’s petition in which, as in Egypt, two classes of women were identified as being particularly entitled to the franchise: those who owned property in their own right and those who had taken a university degree. These women, she asserted, had earned the right to have a voice in the administration of the country as they had proved themselves to be especially competent. Her appeal should have gained credence on the basis that similar educational and property qualifications had been accepted as the grounds for women’s suffrage in the United Kingdom earlier in the year, but Sultan Jahan Begam was unmoved by these foreign events. To the contrary, she sent an unfavourable response to this request in a lengthy letter in which she detailed why she would not support the movement for women’s suffrage.119 By this very act, she placed herself in what suffragettes contemptuously called the “anti” camp alongside the recently deceased Queen-Empress Victoria – who famously depicted the women’s suffrage movement as “wicked folly” that would involve “[our] poor feeble sex . . . forgetting every sense of womanly feelings and 168

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propriety”120 – and British conservatives, including the former Viceroy of India, Lord Curzon, and former British agent in Egypt, Lord Cromer.121 In making her point, the ruling Begam essentially concurred with the two main objections that had already been advanced, namely, that Indian women should not have the vote because of the backwardness of female education and the constraints of purdah. But there was more to her argument as well. In her letter, she explained, as she did in those tracts discussed in Chapter 4, that purdah, as it was defined in the Qur’an, was not actually a hindrance to women fulfilling their specific social and political duties. For this reason, she was completely in agreement with the idea that women should have a voice in the national legislature on all matters connected with the home, including education, hygiene, and sanitation. She did not believe, however, that women should also have a say on other public affairs that had no connection with the domestic sphere. As she wrote: I cannot persuade myself to believe that in all affairs of political life the women of India would be well advised to aspire to absolute equality with men, and carry to extreme lengths their agitation for “votes.” It would be a sad day for the country when the women decided to flout their traditions, their history, and their faith, impelled by a thoughtless desire to jerry-build a new world on the ruins of the old . . . [You] will, I trust, pardon my quoting a famous saying of our prophet, viz, “The nation will not prosper which hands over the reins of its Government to women.” The very sweetness of the nature of women is not an admirable equipment for political life.122 Her clarion call to keep separate men’s and women’s own spheres of activity – central also to the anti-suffrage platform in Britain, as the title of Brian Harrison’s book on the topic, Separate Spheres, reveals123 – may be understood to be consistent with her interpretation of Islam as revealed in her emphasis on domestic training in girls’ schools. Less comprehensible was her citation of the rather dubious hadith so often used in the contemporary context to disparage women leaders. How could she rationalize this stance with her own status as a Muslim female ruler? Sultan Jahan Begam did not address this apparent contradiction in the above letter, but she did raise it in a speech given to the Princess of Wales Ladies’ Club on the occasion of a garden party over two years before. In that forum, she made the same point that it would be a “great mistake” for women, who had been ordained by nature to operate within certain limits, to demand political rights “as are meant for men” since “equality often destroys the happiness and disturbs the peace in our homes.” Not every woman, she asserted, could be like Chand Sultana of the Nizamshahi Dynasty of Ahmadnagar in the Deccan, Razia Sultana of the Delhi Sultanate, or her own grandmother, Sikandar Begam, as these historic women were 169

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“exceptional” cases that were put on earth to show the “omnipotence” of God.124 In making this point, one may assume that the ruling Begam placed herself, alongside her mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother, in this same grouping, thus resolving her own position as a female sovereign with her rejection of more comprehensive political rights for women by designating her own elevated status to divine intervention. In doing so, she made explicit a fundamental aspect of her worldview, as already highlighted in previous sections and chapters, namely, that a hierarchical scheme of relations was the best way to organize a society on earth. This system not only worked in her favour, protecting her position as a member of the feudal elite, but also, in her interpretation, received the sanctity of God. The issue of women’s suffrage, then, provides yet another example of how Sultan Jahan Begam’s programme of reform was limited to a gradual extension of Islamic norms, whether that be for practical or ideological reasons. That practical considerations were important is confirmed by opinions expressed by the ruling Begam at a meeting of Indian princes – the first Chiefs’ Conference – held in Delhi in 1916. Convened by the new Viceroy, Lord Chelmsford, the programme for this occasion had been drafted specifically with the aim of avoiding any major dispute, particularly in relation to the ongoing war effort, but even the fairly inoffensive topics of the form of investiture ceremonies, the mode of minority administrations, and the training of minor princes managed to cause heated debate. Indeed, the Begam of Bhopal found herself in opposition to both the Maharaja of Bikaner and the Rao of Cutch when she asserted, with reference to the second item, that the wife of a previous ruler should only be made regent in “very exceptional cases” – despite that being the very situation that occurred in Bhopal in 1819 to initiate the dynasty of female rule. As in relation to women’s suffrage, her main justification was that the difficulties arising from the purdah system, as well as the lack of education received by Indian women, made it undesirable to put women in a position of political power. It was the latter half of her speech, however, that seemed to provide greater insight into her reasoning. Here, she explained that female regents were likely to encourage intrigue and conspiracies in a state since, as the widow of the late prince, they were unlikely to belong to the ruling family.125 With this statement, she made it clear that one of her main aims in excluding women from the role of regent was to preserve the existing princely order to which she herself belonged. If conferring political rights on women jeopardized the stability of the ruling class, the Begam was very firmly in opposition. In the context of the suffrage debate, Sultan Jahan Begam was also determined to have her voice heard, forwarding the above-quoted letter drafted for Mrs Villiers-Stuart to Lord Southborough himself.126 Though his response is not known, it seems likely that the Begam’s unfavourable views would have had an influence on his decision, being that she was a prominent reformer and princely ruler. Shortly after, it was announced that the South170

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borough Franchise Committee had decided that it would be “impractical” and “premature” to grant the franchise to Indian women. Most of them, the statement declared, did not want the vote and, even if they did, implementation would be hampered by social customs, such as purdah.127 Indian suffragettes were enraged, but not beaten, regrouping to send Sarojini Naidu and Annie Besant to London to address the Joint Select Committee in the hopes of reversing the decision. Ironically, it was on this occasion that the latter used the example of her friend in Bhopal, along with that of the Begam of Janjira, Abru Begam, and other Muslim women who had gathered in the state, to show that purdah women “whose culture and accomplishments rival the golden age of the Saracens” should not be denied the franchise.128 The Women’s Indian Association and other committees on women’s suffrage also organized protest meetings, passed resolutions, and forwarded letters to British officials. As before, their efforts were frustrated by conservative opinion, but, seemingly in response to their appeals, a proviso was included in the bill before the British Parliament that allowed provincial legislatures to add women to their electoral role. At the encouragement of local suffragettes, this proposal was taken up almost immediately in Bombay and Madras, as well as the princely states of Travancore, Jahalwar, and Cochin. Although many local legislators continued to express their concern, as earlier articulated by Sultan Jahan Begam and others of her ilk, that the “tender” nature of women made them unsuited to participation in elections, all of the provinces of British India gave in to local opinion and extended the franchise to women by 1930.129 In Bhopal, too, there was a hope that female suffrage may be introduced when, on the occasion of the visit of the Prince of Wales to the state in February 1922, a new constitution was introduced that imitated, at least to a degree, the system of government then prevalent in British India (see Chapter 2). Recognizing the opportunity, the vice-president of the International Women’s Suffrage Alliance in London, Chrystal Macmillan, was quick to write to the Begam of Bhopal with the request that she extend the franchise on equal terms to women of the state, expressing her opinion that this concession was the least that one might expect from a ruler who had done so much for Indian women.130 In return, she received a frosty reply from Qazi Ali Haidar Abbasi, the political secretary in Bhopal, who had been instructed by the Nawab Begam to inform her that the women of Bhopal would only be enfranchised on equal terms with men on the day that their “intellectual capacity” – understood to encompass both an interest and an insight into government – reached a stage that entitled them to their full share in the administration – not much of an endorsement for the system of female education that she herself had put in place!131 No further attempts appear to have been made during the reign of the last Begam to convince her to implement female suffrage, with the result that the first Indian princely state to fully recognize women’s democratic rights was not Bhopal, with 171

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its history of female rule, but Mysore, with its Westernized bureaucratic government.132 It is important to recognize, however, that Sultan Jahan Begam did write extensively and without restraint in endorsement of women’s rule as it existed in her own state for over a century. In doing so, she broke the pattern followed by most social reformers, whether Hindu or Muslim, in harking back to an ancient golden age, 12 or more decades earlier; instead she evoked fairly recent events to make her point, most often in relation to local history. Specifically, she claimed that it was a sign of “God’s special favour” to Bhopal that the reins of government had been placed in female hands for such a long period, citing, in particular, the reign of her grandmother, Sikandar Begam, as evidence of women’s superior ability to rule. As she explained, Sikandar had twice been able to save the state from near collapse by adhering to a feminine policy of “peace and justice,” rather than one of the sword, as had been followed by her male predecessors. Sultan Jahan Begam also supported her position in favour of female rule by quoting, as a second example, the former Queen-Empress Victoria, despite her being from outside the Muslim or even local tradition. That she often referred to Britain’s monarch as her “real mother” suggests the impact that her example must have had within Bhopal, though it is worth noting that Queen Victoria was also evoked as a role model by Nazir Ahmad and Hali, both of whom praised her for her sagacity and forbearance.133 It was only to add extra justification to her argument that the ruling Begam mentioned several “splendid queens” from early Islamic history, including the above-mentioned Razia Sultana and Chand Sultana, as well as Shajarat ul-Durr in Egypt and Absh Khatun in Persia, re-endorsing their mythical portrayal as women who had courageously commanded their armies and tactfully negotiated with their enemies.134 As a point of comparison, it should be noted that many of these same Muslim women were quoted by some of Sultan Jahan Begam’s male contemporaries, notably Ameer Ali, in the process of defending the status of women in Islam, being that they had held political influence or even the reins of government.135 In other parts of the Islamic world, too, women rulers were held up as exemplars – recurrent cases ranging from the Pharoah Nitocris and Catherine the Great to the Mughal queen, Nur Jahan, and even the Begam of Bhopal herself. Yet, as Marilyn Booth has charted in her study of biography and gender politics in Egypt, the emphasis in this context was on how these great women, despite being rulers, remained dedicated to their domestic obligations – Catherine the Great being depicted “at her embroidery” and Queen Maria Christina “boiling sweets.”136 None of these other authors seemed to go to the lengths of the ruling Begam in using examples of politically active women in the past to assert “that administrative capacity is more inherent in women than in men and that nature specially intended them for rulers.” As she concluded in a separate chapter 172

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on this topic within a biographical account of her great-grandmother, Qudsia: Men are given bodily strength to earn their living and to enable them to fight in battles. Women have been granted the qualities of mercy, sympathy, toleration, fidelity and firmness. These render them specially suitable as rulers of kingdoms though no doubt education and careful upbringing are necessary for both sexes. Given these, women are superior to men.137 Her revised scheme of biological difference, then, could be used not only to oppose women’s suffrage, but also to justify an extension of women’s political rights, if only within a princely context. That the Begam was also willing to act on these ideas became apparent during the debate over Bhopal’s succession in the 1920s when, after abdicating to her son, she informed the British government that she wanted his eldest daughter, Abida Sultaan, recognized officially as heir-apparent, as had already been done in the state. Faced with opposition from the Political Department, again on the basis of primogeniture, she argued the case with as much enthusiasm as she had done that of her son, asserting, in daily letters to officials in Indore and New Delhi, that, in Bhopal, the eldest child succeeded to the throne, regardless of their sex.138 Her advocacy of Abida as the future Begam of Bhopal must be seen as in-keeping not only with the admiration that she expressed for women rulers, but also with her antithetical comments on women regents at the Chiefs’ Conference in 1916 since, in this case, female rule was actually a means of keeping the line of succession within one branch of the ruling family. The issue was finally resolved in early 1927 when Lord Irwin, the new Viceroy, announced that, though Abida would be recognized as heir-apparent, sons would, in future, take precedence over daughters in term of Bhopal’s succession.139 Though her victory was only partial, the elderly Begam was evidently satisfied, since, despite having opposed women’s suffrage, she had achieved at least some recognition for a radical new interpretation of women’s political rights in Islam.

Conclusions In terms of a contemporary movement for women’s rights, Sultan Jahan Begam’s achievements over her 25 years as a princely ruler and four years in retirement may seem negligible, if not actually retrograde. Not only had she reasserted the primacy of women’s domestic duties, but she had also opposed many of her own female contemporaries in their attempts to ban polygamy and achieve women’s suffrage. Other gender inequalities enshrined in the Qur’an – for instance, the limiting of a woman’s inheritance to only half that of their male relatives at best – were also advocated without 173

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question. To dismiss the Begam’s reformist activities in relation to this theme on these grounds, however, would be to ignore the complex historical circumstances in which she wrote and acted. As a princely ruler with a zeal for women’s reform, she had to delicately negotiate a path between the British overlords with their civilizing mission but usually conservative mentalities, Bhopal’s Muslim elites wanting to maintain patriarchal norms protected by custom if not the shari‘at, and, increasingly, various breeds of nationalists for whom “the woman question” was to be resolved through the inculcation of what Partha Chatterjee has called a “new patriarchy.”140 In this context, her attempts to uphold the Prophet’s prohibition on female infanticide, limit polygamy, guarantee women’s rights to maintenance, mahr, some inheritance and divorce, control men’s use of the “triple talaq” formula, and improve the conditions of child marriage, not to mention justify women’s rule, must be seen as highly significant. Equally innovative was her fostering of women’s organization, from the Princess of Wales Ladies’ Club in Bhopal to the All-India Women’s Conference in Delhi, in which Muslim women would play a key role in defining their own agenda and carrying it through. A clear break, then, may be seen with earlier male reformers, whether of the Deoband or Aligarh school, in that the Begam of Bhopal sought to empower Indian Muslim women, who had traditionally been refused many of their rights, by giving them the means to claim proper treatment from their fathers and husbands, economic security, and a degree of independence. Unlike even the most radical among them, like Ameer Ali and Sayyid Mumtaz Ali, the Begam revealed a distinctly feminine sensibility – no doubt reinforced by the unique political situation in Bhopal – by advocating princely rule by women over that of men, notably on the basis of a revised scheme of biological difference. That this justification was used confirms the Begam’s willingness to draw on the arguments of some of her predecessors and contemporaries from Aligarh, as influenced by Victorian notions of the “angel in the house,” according to which women were understood to have special qualities ordained by nature that made them especially suited to the domestic sphere. Yet like Maulana Ashraf Ali Thanawi from Deoband, the Begam also recognized women’s essential equality with men, as judged at the spiritual level, giving speeches on religious duties that could have as easily applied to men as women. To be sure, nearly all of the ruling Begam’s arguments on the rights and duties of women – with the exception of perhaps child marriage, widow remarriage, and occasionally divorce – were made in reference to Islam, with quotations from the Qur’an and hadith being used to support her reformist position. By building on religious injunctions, she was able to buttress her demands with a higher authority that guaranteed her at least limited success, which would not achievable had she attacked patriarchy directly. In relation to this point, the princely context should also

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be seen as relevant in that it provided a space where women could act and in which they were only partially implicated by colonial agendas. As with other topics, it might also be noted that the Begam of Bhopal’s programme for the reform of women’s rights and duties in Islam had a number of unseen legacies. Her insistence on a separate female sphere, for instance, led to a high degree of autonomy within the Indian women’s movement that encouraged female activists to make increasingly radical demands in the 1930s and beyond – some Muslim women in the AIWC, such as Begam Qudsia Aizaz Rasul, to take a notable example, even speaking out in favour of birth control in a way that no doubt would have had Sultan Jahan Begam turning in her grave.141 Other female intellectuals, including Atiya Fyzee, Sughra Humayon Mirza, and Shaista Ikramullah, also ran articles in Urdu women’s journals from the 1920s in which they articulated demands for female suffrage, legislative reform, economic independence, and even “love” marriages.142 That women did have certain rights within Islamic law was recognized, at least to a degree, with the passing of the Shariat Application Act of 1937 and the Muslim Dissolution of Marriages Act of 1939. As suggested by their titles, the former aimed to replace customary law in India with Muslim personal law that was deemed to be more advantageous to women – though it had little actual effect after compromises were made on the issue of inheritance – while the latter permitted women to initiate divorce proceedings, primarily on grounds accepted by the Maliki school of Islamic jurisprudence.143 These acts continued to provide the basis for Muslim women’s legal rights in independent India, including that area previously contained within Bhopal state. Universal adult suffrage was also granted by the constitution promulgated in 1950.144 That Sultan Jahan Begam’s vision for women’s rights and duties still holds force, however, may be seen in that her treatise on the subject was actually reprinted in the 1980s under the title Muslim Married Couple, making it available even now from online Islamic bookstores.145

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7 CONCLUSIONS

Only partisans of justice Will reach their destination. From Bhopal side there comes the sound Of an angel’s proclamation. The enterprise which lies ahead Mysteriously gains confirmation. The patronage of Sultan Jahan Signifies Divine collaboration. Altaf Husain Hali, Chup ki Dad (Homage to the Silent) (1905)1

These lines of poetry were written by the modernist poet, Altaf Husain Hali, as the concluding stanzas to a longer work called Chup ki Dad (Homage to the Silent). This poem repeated many of the themes that had already appeared in his prose work, Majalis un-Nisa, as briefly discussed in Chapter 1, in that it made the point that women were the “true strength” of the Muslim home, but yet were “deprived of rights” and “deprived of knowledge,” with the effect that the Muslim community as a whole was in decline. Only if women were provided with the “adventure of education” could Indian Muslims be resuscitated.2 Notably, this poem was composed at the request of another modernist reformer, Shaikh Abdullah, to be published in his Urdu women’s journal, Khatun, on the occasion of a meeting in Aligarh of the Female Section of the Muhammadan Educational Conference (MEC) of which he was secretary. As noted in previous chapters, this meeting was highly significant in the context of this study on a couple of accounts: first of all, because it was on this occasion that Muslim women from across India gathered for the first time in a formal context to discuss the reform of their own sex; and, second, because it was the last meeting held before the Shaikh fulfilled an aim of the MEC, as it has been on the books for several years, of establishing a Muslim girls’ school at Aligarh. The final lines of Hali’s poem make clear that this latter project in particular could not have been achieved 176

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without the essential backing of Sultan Jahan Begam of Bhopal who, as noted in Chapter 3, not only gave monetary aid and intellectual support, but also bestowed legitimacy on account of her status as a princely ruler. Yet his poetic recognition of the ruling Begam’s patronage of a zenana madrasa at Aligarh could be as easily applied to a whole range of other reformist initiatives for Indian Muslim women in the early twentieth century as they related to female education, purdah, health, and women’s rights. Former Begams of Bhopal had guaranteed that Bhopal state already had a reputation for loyalty to the British, efficient administration, and Muslim reform. But, under the last Begam’s firm hand, it became renowned as a haven for women where new ideas and institutions – from girls’ schools and purdah social clubs to dai training programmes and women’s conferences – were introduced before being promoted in other parts of the subcontinent. Perceptions of princely India as an anachronistic backwater were thus complicated even as the process of change was facilitated by the autocratic structures of state – not least the Begam’s access to a significant pot of wealth acquired primarily by taxing Bhopal’s peasantry. The princely context was also important in terms of the reformist message in that, within that semiautonomous context, there seemed to be at least a little more space than in British India to negotiate with the ideas of the paramount power. The effect was a programme of reform that drew on colonial discourse and practice in the form of, for instance, European models of female education and Western systems of scientific knowledge – even as they were themselves being consolidated – but thoroughly adapted them to local requirements, so that they often appeared to be rooted as much in an indigenous model of reform as in one identified with Islamic modernism. Indeed, the peculiar nature of Bhopal’s female-dominated court meant that, more often than not, it was the specific concerns and circumstances of Indian Muslim women that were given priority. What this meant in terms of Muslim reform was that the writings and activities of early female activists refuse to sit neatly within the analytical extremes of “acculturative” or “transitional” movements posited by existing conceptual models. Sultan Jahan Begam and her collaborators took an incremental approach that built on conventional norms and reformist patterns set by their male predecessors and contemporaries, whether from Aligarh or Deoband, but their female voice was also distinct.3 Rejecting any notion that women were only the objects of reform, the Begam asserted their agency by arguing, often with reference to customary purdah restrictions, that women themselves had to take responsibility for crafting an appropriate curriculum by founding girls’ schools, offering medical care in the zenana, circulating knowledge of sanitation and hygiene, and establishing organizations that would guarantee their God-given rights. In the process, an attempt was made to foster a sense of sisterhood that crossed lines of community, caste, and class, though the latter in particular led to presumptuous interventions 177

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on the part of the ashraf into the lives of non-elite women. Still, a recognition of women’s economic contributions to the family, alongside their roles as wives and mothers, distinguished the Begam’s efforts from those of many of her male colleagues. At the same time, she continued to operate within a hierarchical Islamic framework that protected her position as a member of the feudal elite even as it perpetuated female inequality – as, for instance, in the case of suffrage. What this case reinforces, then, is that Muslim identity was central to these women’s conception of themselves, but it was not monolithic, nor was it exclusive. Rather, it was informed and was informed by a range of other identities, including class and gender, in a dynamic process of interaction.4 In Majalis un-Nisa, Hali had declared that a woman’s virtues were best gauged by her son’s accomplishments. If we apply this model to the reformist achievements of Sultan Jahan Begam – a latter day Zubaida Khatun – we come again to a theme that runs throughout this study: legacy as paradox. Though the Begam had raised Hamidullah Khan to be the ideal sharif Muslim male, displaying the qualities of loyalty, prudence, piety, and diligence, he did not act, even during her lifetime, in quite the way she would have expected, as has been seen in previous chapters. Following her death, his penchant for nationalist politics, polo, and pomp – all things that the Begam had been sceptical of, if not outright opposed to – were given an even freer rein. That is not to deny that Hamidullah was, like his mother, a benevolent ruler who made important contributions, not only to princely politics, but also to imperial projects and Indian nationalism through his involvement in the Round Table Conferences, the Chamber of Princes, and the Second World War.5 But it does suggest that the consequences of reform were often unforeseen. The example of his wife, Maimoona Sultan, provides perhaps even better evidence in that – having been given a comprehensive education after being brought to Bhopal as a young bride and pushed to contribute to reformist activities by giving speeches at the ladies’ club in Bhopal, writing religious tracts, and participating in national women’s organizations – she did not continue her work for women after the death of her overbearing mother-in-law in 1930, but instead retired effectively from public life.6 Her two youngest daughters, too, shunned Muslim reformism after the death of the Dowager Begam, preferring instead to join the glamorous circle of Indian princes who occupied themselves throughout the 1930s and 1940s with sports, music, and dance. Only in their maturity did the two princesses begin to follow certain political and charitable traditions of Bhopal’s royal women – Sajida Sultan, for instance, emerging as an active philanthropist following her high profile marriage to Nawab Muhammad Iftikhar Ali Khan of Pataudi, an international cricketer, in 1939. Reflecting her grandmother’s educational legacy, she patronized the Aligarh Muslim University, of which Sultan Jahan Begam had been the first chancellor, and the Jamia Millia 178

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Figure 7.1 Heirs to the Begam’s legacy: Nawab Hamidullah Khan, Maimoona Sultan, Rabia Sultan, Abida Sultaan, and Sajida Sultan with a Claridges’ footman in London, 1932 (by permission of Shaharyar M. Khan).

Islamia (or National Muslim University), described as the “most distinctive memorial” to the “spirit and purpose” of Dr M.A. Ansari,7 the last Begam’s own doctor and advisor – though a nod to an earlier courtly tradition, as it was linked with poetry and dance, and a later sporting one was also apparent in her association with the Ghalib Society, the Bharatiya Kala Kendra, and the Women’s Hockey Association. Following her father’s death in 1960, she was also chosen as successor to the title and privy purse of the Nawab of Bhopal on account of her elder sister’s migration to Pakistan. As Begam of Bhopal, she did not seek victory on the campaign trail, as did Maharani Gayatri Devi of Jaipur, but she did join the fight, as no doubt her grandmother would have done, alongside the Maharajas of Baroda and Dhrangadhara, among others, for the maintenance of princely privileges after they were abolished by Indira Gandhi’s government in 1970.8 What the last ruling Begam would have thought of the Pataudi family’s more recent association with the Bollywood film industry – through Sajida’s daughter-in-law, Sharmila Tagore, and her grandchildren, Saif Ali Khan and Soha Ali Khan – is a matter only for conjecture. Perhaps a better reflection of Sultan Jahan Begam’s accomplishments in 179

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terms of members of her own family can be seen in her eldest granddaughter, Abida Sultaan, as she was seen to have inherited the unique legacy of the Nawab Begams. As Abru Begam described her upon Hamidullah’s accession to the throne in 1926: “The Princess Abida is the garden of our national aspirations, the wholesome fruit of the Begam Mother, and the perfection of Your Highness’s happiest expectation.”9 Yet, initially at least, Abida, too, did not appear to be fulfilling her birthright in quite the way Sultan Jahan Begam would have expected. Not only did the young princess refuse to observe purdah, as seen in Chapter 4, but she also rejected the stable family life that Sultan Jahan Begam had understood to be essential to the regeneration of the Muslim qaum, living with the husband that her grandmother had chosen, Sarwar Ali Khan of Kurwai, only briefly in the 1930s before returning to Bhopal to raise their only son, Shaharyar Mohammad Khan, without him. She did, however, provide the young boy with the kind of education of which her grandmother would no doubt have approved, engaging Bhopal’s “foremost religious and theological scholar” of the time, Allama Khalil Arab – described by Abida herself as a “Wahabi” in reflection of his descent from those Yemeni scholars invited to Bhopal by Sikandar Begam in the 1860s (see Chapter 1) – to teach her son “Urdu, Quran and Islamiyat.” Alongside this religious instruction were classes in mathematics, geography, history, and science, as well as in English and “proper manners,” as provided by English governesses trained at the Froebel Institute – with its emphasis on creative learning within a Christian worldview – or an Irish Catholic tutor. Book learning was also supplemented by physical activities, though the Pathan traditions of horse riding and fencing were supplanted by hockey and cricket.10 Alongside motherhood, Abida Sultaan dedicated herself in the 1930s and 1940s to Bhopal’s administration, fulfilling the roles of chief secretary and president of the cabinet in her father’s regime, as well as training a women’s section of the Bhopal army. As part of her daily routine, she also continued her study of the Qur’an as it had been initiated so brutally by her grandmother, organized musical soirées and mushairas (poetry recitation) as preferred by Shah Jahan Begam, and partook in plenty of sports – to such an extent that, by 1949, she had bagged innumerable tigers, helped develop Bhopal as a centre for bicycle polo and hockey, become only the second Muslim woman to train as a licensed pilot, and been crowned All-India Women’s Squash Champion. Clearly, her sphere of activities had extended far beyond anything that could have been imagined by Sultan Jahan Begam. Equally unfathomable to the former ruling Begam would have been the events of 1947, which, along with the tragedies of partition, saw Bhopal being subsumed into independent India, the princes reduced to figurehead sovereigns, and, soon after, Bhopal’s heir-apparent migrating to the newly created Pakistan accompanied only by her young son. Not surprisingly, the new government welcomed Abida’s administrative experience, assigning her 180

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to various diplomatic missions throughout the 1950s that, in fulfilment of her grandmother’s directive to travel, took her to China, Brazil, and Britain. With Pakistan’s first military coup, Abida adopted a new role as dissident, publicly challenging the policies of successive regimes from the 1960s until her death in 2002, despite her son’s rise to the top of the Pakistani foreign service. In particular, she questioned the curtailing of women’s rights in Muslim countries under state-sponsored Islamization programmes, arguing, like her grandmother nearly a century before, that women were guaranteed extensive legal and political rights in scriptural Islam.11 Turning from blood relations to fictive sons and daughters, it is clear that the achievements of Sultan Jahan Begam’s large family – encompassing all of those who were touched in some way by ideas that she disseminated and institutions that she patronized – deserves a much fuller discussion that can be provided here. But it is worth noting that many of the ruling Begam’s reformist projects did outlive her. In her memoirs, Abida Sultaan describes how the annual mela held at the ladies’ club in Bhopal, having been started by her grandmother, continued to attract purdah women from across Bhopal state and nearby towns for food and music, handicraft and first aid displays, and other events managed by the local girl guide troop throughout the 1930s.12 It was also highlighted in earlier chapters how some of the Begam’s tracts on women’s rights in Islam remained in print into the 1980s, while her schools and health initiatives continue to flourish in Bhopal city today – thanks at least in part to two endowment trusts (or auqaf) that she established in 1914 and 1918 to ensure the “advancement of education in the Bhopal state.”13 Elsewhere, too, many of those organizations that she played a key role in getting off the ground – from the Aligarh Girls’ School (now the Aligarh Women’s College) to the All-India Women’s Conference – are now thriving entities, thus acting as a living monument to her reformist efforts, even as her contributions are often forgotten or underplayed.14 Indeed, Bhopal today is far better known for the catastrophic events associated with the Union Carbide gas disaster of 1984 than it is for the state’s dynasty of Muslim female rulers. Yet, in the aftermath of this event, veiled Muslim women and their Hindu neighbours continue to resist the injustice of their treatment at public protests in the streets and parks of Bhopal city. Having witnessed these women with fists clenched and voices raised, I cannot help but think that the last Begam of Bhopal’s paradoxical legacy lives on.

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APPENDIX GENEALOGY OF THE RULING FAMILY OF BHOPAL

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IV: Hayat Muhammad Khan ~ Asmat Begam (r.1777–1808) (d.1797)

Moti Begam

Amir Muhammad Khan

VI: Wazir Muhammad Khan (r.1808–16)

Sharif Muhammad Khan

Fazil Muhammad Khan

Faiz

Omar

Ali

Faiza

(ii) Ayesha ~ Sarwar Ali Khan of Kurwai ~ (i) Abida Sultaan (1913–2002) Kaiser Zafar Munawwar Najma Husain ~ Shaharyar Mohammad Khan (b.1934)

Saif

Saleha

Saba Soha

Mansoor ~ Ayesha (née Sharmila Tagore)

Sabeha

Sajida Sultan ~ Muhammad Iftikhar Ali Khan of Pataudi (1915–1995)

Qudsia

Faiza

Nasir

Rabia Sultan ~ Agha Mirza (1916–2001)

Bilqis Jahan Begam Nasrullah Khan ~ Qaisar Dulhan Obaidullah Khan ~ Shaharyar Dulhan Asaf Jahan XII: Hamidullah Khan ~ (i) Maimoona Sultan (ii) Aftab Jahan (1875–1888) (1876–1924) (1877–1924) (1880–1894) (1894–1960; r. 1926–49) (1900–1985)

XI: SULTAN JAHAN BEGAM ~ Ahmad Ali Khan (1858–1930; r.1901–26) (d.1902)

Baqi Muhammad Khan ~ X: Shah Jahan Begam ~ Siddiq Hasan Khan (d.1867) (1838–1901; r.1868–1901) (d.1890)

VIII: Sikandar Begam ~ IX: Jahangir Muhammad Khan (1816–1868; r.1819–37 and 1844–68) (r.1837–44)

Qudsia Begam ~ VII: Nazar Muhammad Khan (1801–1881; regent 1819–37) (r.1816–19)

V. Ghaus Muhammad Khan ~ Zeenat Begam (d.1826; r.1808) (d.1827)

Saliha (Bahu) Begam ~ III: Faiz Muhammad Khan (r.1742–77)

Mamola Bibi ~ II: Yar Muhammad Khan (d.1794) (r.1728–42)

I: Dost Muhammad Khan ~ Fatah Bibi (c.1672–1728; r.1709–28)

GLOSSARY

ajlaf ‘alim (pl. ‘ulama) anjuman ‘aqiqa ashraf

aukaf begam bhadralok bhadramahila bismillah burqa chador chardivari chatti Daftar Tarikh diwan dulhan dupatta durbar fatwa (pl. fatawa) fiqh ghazal

the lower social orders among Muslims one who possesses knowledge, particularly in Islamic legal and religious studies; Muslim priest association, usually of Muslims naming ceremony noble, respectable; also those Indian Muslims who trace their lineage to the Prophet, his companions or other ruling classes outside of India see waqf married Muslim woman; or Muslim female ruler gentleman, especially in colonial Bengal gentlewoman, especially in colonial Bengal literally, “In the name of God”; refers to Muslim ceremony to commence formal education loose garment covering clothes, form, and face of a woman in purdah when leaving the house large shawl-like scarf or veil literally, “four walls”; refers to women’s space within a house ceremony on the occasion of a child’s birth History Office chief minister bride, wife long scarf or veil, worn around the shoulders or over the head court ceremony; also refers to government of princely state formal ruling by an ‘alim or other learned man on a question relating to Islamic law Islamic jurisprudence poem in form of rhyming couplet

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hadith

traditions of the Prophet Muhammad; a source of Islamic law; important aspect of Muslim curriculum hafiz one who has memorized the Qur’an hajj Muslim pilgrimage to Mecca; one of the five pillars of the Islamic faith hakim practitioner of yunani medicine haram women’s apartments hijab veil hijra flight; migration by Muslims to nearest dar ul-Islam huq (pl. huquq) law, rules ‘id Muslim religious festival ijma‘ consensus of legal scholars or the Islamic community as a whole; a basis for Islamic law ijtihad individual inquiry and reasoning by Islamic scholars; a basis for Islamic law imam leader, especially of prayer; among Shi‘as, spiritual leader of Islamic community, who descends from the Prophet ‘ismat honour, chastity, modesty ‘izzat honour jagir right to collect revenue from an area jagirdar landlord jahilia “Age of Ignorance” before Islamic era jihad holy struggle or war in Islam kafir non-believer, i.e. non-Muslim khadi handspun and handwoven cloth khalifa Caliph; successor of the Prophet as head of the Muslim community khanadari housekeeping, household management khatun noblewoman khilafat office filled by khalifa; political movement in India, 1919–24 khul‘ divorce initiated by a Muslim woman on certain grounds kurta loose, tunic-style shirt madrasa Muslim school of higher learning maharaja princely ruler mahr dower; marriage portion settled on a Muslim bride by pre-marital contract majlis (pl. majalis) assembly, gathering maktab Muslim primary school, often by a mosque, teaching basic elements of the Qur’an masnad throne maulana title applied to an ‘alim or other learned man 185

G L O S S A RY

maulvi mawlid mina bazaar mofussil mushaira namaz nashra nawab nikah nizam pajama pakka parwanah pir purdah purdahnashin qasba qaum qawwali qazi qiyas rabitah raj raja Ramadan rozah rubats ryot sabha sanad sati shaikh

shari‘at sharif (pl. ashraf) sunnah swadeshi talaq taluqdar

title applied to a learned man or teacher birth anniversary of a Sufi saint women’s market countryside, districts poetry recitation Muslim prayers ceremony to celebrate completion of study of the Qur’an Muslim princely ruler or other aristocrat legal ceremony in Muslim marriage Muslim princely ruler; originally, Mughal governor fitted trousers solid; brick written order religious guide in the Sufi tradition veiling and seclusion of women veiled or secluded woman native quarter of British town tribe, group, or nation singing with musical accompaniment at Sufi devotional exercises judge in Islamic law use of analogy in the making of Islamic law relationship between a Sufi pir and his followers rule, kingdom ruler, especially of Rajput clan month of fasting in Muslim religious calendar fasting lodging halls peasant, or cultivator of the soil assembly; usually applied to a Hindu assembly title deed widow immolation; virtuous wife title for a Sufi master or pir; or name of a Muslim descended from the Prophet Muhammad or his Companions Islamic law noble, respectable Muslim traditions literally, “own country”; goods manufactured in India; political movement to boycott foreign-made goods Muslim divorce revenue collectors in UP with proprietary rights over area 186

G L O S S A RY

‘ulama umma ‘urs ustani waqf (pl. auqaf) yunani tibb zakat zamindar zenana

plural of ‘alim; learned men worldwide Muslim community celebration of a Sufi saint’s death anniversary women teacher, governess Muslim charitable endowment Islamic system of medicine based on Greek sciences alms, usually a percentage of a Muslim’s annual income; one of the five pillars of the Muslim faith landlord women’s quarters

187

NOTES

P RE F A C E AND A C KNOWL E DGE M E NT S 1 Alex Wright, “We need a more nuanced debate about religion, and must stop seeing it in terms of being either a fantasy or a destructive force,” The Guardian, 1 October 2005. I NT RODUC T I ON 1 Ruth Frances Woodsmall, Moslem Women Enter a New World, London: George Allen & Unwin, 1936, 40. 2 Niccolao Manucci, Storia do Mogor; or Mogul India, 1653–1708, 4 vols, trans. William Irvine, London: John Murray, 1907–8. 3 Jean P. Sasson, Princess, London: Bantam Books, 1994. 4 Consider, for example, a couplet by Saqyb Zirvi, a modern Pakistani poet: “The beating of my heart has become the gay music of desire / Whose footsteps do I hear behind the curtain?” Quoted in Muhammad Abd-al-Rahman Barker, Khwaja Muhammad Shafi Dihlavi, and Hasan Jahangir Hamdani (eds), A Reader of Modern Urdu Poetry, Montreal: McGill University Press, 1968, 11. 5 See Mrs McClure, “Social Hindrances” in Annie Von Sommer and Samuel M. Zwemer, Daylight in the Harem: A New Era for Moslem Women, Edinburgh: Oliphant, Anderson and Ferrier, 1911, 93–101. 6 See, for instance, Maggie O’Kane, “A Holy Betrayal,” The Guardian Weekend, 29 November 1997, 39–45. 7 For general anthropological studies on purdah in the Indian context, see Patricia Jeffrey, Frogs in a Well, London: Zed Books, 1979; and David G. Mandelbaum, Women’s Seclusion and Men’s Honour: Sex Roles in North India, Bangladesh and Pakistan, Arizona: University of Arizona Press, 1988. For studies relating directly to the geographical area discussed in this work, see the publications of Doranne Jacobson, most notably “Hidden Faces: Hindu and Muslim Purdah in a Central Indian Village,” PhD thesis, Columbia University, 1970; and “The Veil of Virtue: Purdah and the Muslim Family in the Bhopal Region of Central India” in Imtiaz Ahmad (ed.), Family, Kinship and Marriage among Muslims in India, Columbia: South Asia Books, 1976, 169–215. A historical dimension is added to the discussion on Indian purdah in Hanna Papanek and Gail Minault (eds), Separate Worlds: Studies of Purdah in South Asia, Delhi: Chanakya Publications, 1982. Some relevant studies in the context of the wider Islamic world are: Fatima Mernissi, Beyond the Veil: Male–Female Dynamics in Modern Muslim Society, London: Al Saqi, 1985 (rev. ed.); Fadwa El Guindi, Veil: Modesty, Privacy and

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8 9

10

11 12 13

14 15

16 17 18 19 20

21

Resistance, Oxford: Berg Publishers, 1999; and Aihwa Ong, Flexible Citizenship: The Cultural Logics of Transnationality, Durham NC: Duke University Press, 1999. Some of these early figures are discussed in Fatima Mernissi, The Forgotten Queens of Islam, Cambridge: Polity Press, 1994; and Leila Ahmed, Women and Gender in Islam, New Haven CT: Yale University Press, 1992. For a discussion of this later period, see Sarfaraz Husain Mirza, Muslim Women’s Role in the Pakistan Movement, Lahore: Research Society of Pakistan, 1969. The autobiographical writings of women who were politically active in this period are also useful. See, for instance, Begum Shaista Ikramullah, From Purdah to Parliament, London: The Cressat Press, 1963; Jahan Ara Shahnawaz, Father and Daughter: A Political Autobiography, Lahore: Nigarishat, 1971; and Salma Tasadduq Husain, Azadi ki Safar: Tarikh-i-Pakistan aur Muslim Khawatin, Lahore: Pakistan Study Centre, Punjab University, 1987. Despite this change, the term sharif has continued to refer to Muslim groups such as Sayyids, Shaikhs, Mughals, and Pathans that claim descent from foreign ancestry. The persistence of hierarchy based on birth is verified in Imtiaz Ahmad (ed.), Caste and Social Stratification among Muslims in India, New Delhi: Manohar Book Service, 1973. For an examination of sharif culture and the creation of the ‘Indian Muslim’ identity, see David Lelyveld, Aligarh’s First Generation: Muslim Solidarity in British India, Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1996 (reprint), ch. 1–2. For a geographical description of Bhopal, see C.E. Luard, Census of India, 1901, vol. XIX, Lucknow: Nawal Kishore Steam Printing Press, 1901, 50. Bhopal’s early history is a fascinating tale of wars, plots, and intrigue. It is recorded in some detail in Shah Jahan Begam, Ta¯j-ul Ikba¯l Ta¯rı¯kh-i-Bhopa¯l or The History of Bhopal, trans. H.C. Barstow, Calcutta: Thacker, Spink & Co., 1876. A more succinct and often more accurate account can be found in C.E. Luard, Bhopal State Gazetteer, vol. III, Calcutta: Superintendent Government Printing, 1908, 9–35. Muhammad Amin Zuberi, Begamat-i-Bhopal, Bhopal: Ruler of Bhopal, 1918, 13–16. See William Hough, A Brief History of the Bhopal Principality in Central India, Calcutta: The Baptist Mission Press, 1845, 6–24; Tayyebah Bi, Tarikh Farmanrawa’i’an Bhopal, Bhopal: Bhopal Book House, 1977; Kamla Mittal, History of Bhopal State: Development of Constitution, Administration and National Awakening, 1901–1949, New Delhi: Munshiram Manoharlal, 1990, 6–10; Shaharyar M. Khan, The Begums of Bhopal: A Dynasty of Women Rulers in Raj India, London: I.B. Tauris, 2000, ch. 2; and Claudia Preckel, Begums of Bhopal, New Delhi: Roli Books, 2000, 15–20. Zuberi, Begamat-i-Bhopal, 25–35. Bhopal’s unusual pattern of succession is analysed in more detail in Chapter 1. For the genealogy of Bhopal’s ruling family, see the Appendix. Anees Jung, Night of the New Moon: Encounters with Muslim Women in India, New Delhi: Penguin Books, 1993, 41. Lois Beck and Nikki Keddie (eds), Women in the Muslim World, Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1978; Nikki R. Keddie and Beth Baron (eds), Women in Middle Eastern History, New Haven CT: Yale University Press, 1991; and Lila Abu-Lughod, Remaking Women: Feminism and Modernity in the Middle East, Princeton NJ: Princeton University Press, 1998. See, for example, Beth Baron, The Women’s Awakening in Egypt: Culture, Society, and the Press, New Haven CT: Yale University Press, 1994; Margot Badran, Feminists, Islam and Nation: Gender and the Making of Modern Egypt,

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22

23 24 25 26

27

28

Princeton NJ: Princeton University Press, 1995; Parvin Paidar, Women and the Political Processes in Twentieth-Century Iran, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995; and Beth Baron, Egypt as a Woman: Nationalism, Gender, and Politics, Berkeley: University of California Press, 2005. See, for example, Shahida Lateef, Muslim Women in India: Political and Private Realities, 1890–1980, London: Zed Books, 1990; and Azra Asghar Ali, The Emergence of Feminism among Indian Muslim Women 1920–47, Karachi: Oxford University Press, 2000. Lelyveld, Aligarh’s First Generation; and Barbara Metcalf, Islamic Revival in British India: Deoband, 1860–1900, Princeton NJ: Princeton University Press, 1982. Kenneth W. Jones, Socio-Religious Reform Movements in British India, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989, 3–4. Barbara D. Metcalf, “Reading and Writing about Muslim Women in British India” in Zoya Hasan (ed.), Forging Identities: Gender, Communities, and the State, New Delhi: Kali for Women, 1994, 6–14. Barbara Daly Metcalf, Perfecting Women: Maulana Ashraf ‘Ali Thanawi’s Bihishti Zewar, Berkeley: University of California Press, 1990; “Maula¯na¯ Ashraf ‘Alı¯ Tha¯navı¯ and Urdu Literature” in Christopher Shackle (ed.), Urdu and Muslim South Asia, Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1991, 93–100; “Islam and Custom in Nineteenth-Century India: the Reformist Standard of Maulana Thanawi’s Bihishti Zewar,” Contributions to Asian Studies, 17, 1982, 62–78; “The Making of a Muslim Lady” in Milton Israel and N.K. Wagle (eds), Islamic Society and Culture, New Delhi: Manohar, 1983, 17–38; and “Reading and Writing about Muslim Women in British India,” 1–21. Gail Minault, Secluded Scholars: Women’s Education and Muslim Social Reform in Colonial India, Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1998; “Sayyid Karamat Husain and Muslim Women’s Education” in Violette Graff (ed.), Lucknow: Memories of a City, Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1997, 155–64; “Sayyid Mumtaz ‘Ali and Tahzı¯b un-Niswa¯n: Women’s Rights in Islam and Women’s Journalism in Urdu” in Kenneth W. Jones (ed.), Religious Controversy in British India, Albany: State University of New York Press, 1992, 179–99; “‘Ismat: Ra¯shid ul Khairı¯ ’s Novels and Urdu Literary Journalism for Women” in Shackle, Urdu and Muslim South Asia, 93–100; “Sayyid Mumtaz Ali and ‘Huquq un-Niswan’: An Advocate of Women’s Rights in Islam in the Late Nineteenth Century,” Modern Asian Studies, 24: 1, 1990, 147–72; “Urdu Women’s Magazines in the Early Twentieth Century,” Manushi, 48, September–October 1988, 2–9; Voices of Silence: English Translation of Altaf Hussain Hali’s Majalis un-Nissa and Chup ki Dad, Delhi: Chanakya Publications, 1986; “Shaikh Abdullah, Begam Abdullah, and Sharif Education for Girls at Aligarh” in Imtiaz Ahmad (ed.), Modernization and Social Change Among Muslims in India, New Delhi: Manmohar, 1983, 207–36; and “Purdah’s Progress: The Beginnings of School Education for Indian Muslim Women” in Jagdish P. Sharma (ed.), Individuals and Ideas in Modern India, Calcutta: Firma KLM Private Limited, 1982, 76–97. On the Muhammadan Educational Conference, see Abdul Rashid Khan, The All India Muslim Educational Conference: Its Contribution to the Cultural Development of Indian Muslims, 1886–1947, Karachi: Oxford University Press, 2001. Gail Minault, Secluded Scholars, 267–307; “Purdah Politics: The Role of Muslim Women in Indian Nationalism, 1911–24” in Papanek and Minault, Separate Worlds, 243–61; “Sisterhood or Separatism? The All-India Muslim Ladies’ Conference and the Nationalist Movement” in Gail Minault (ed.), The Extended Family: Women and Political Participation in India and Pakistan, Columbia: South Asia Books, 1981, 83–108.

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29 Minault, Secluded Scholars, 11. 30 Regional studies on Muslim women in Bengal include: Sonia Nishat Amin, The World of Muslim Women in Colonial Bengal, 1876–1939, Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1996; Rokeya Sakhawat Hossain, Sultana’s Dream and Selections from the Secluded Ones, ed. and trans. Roushan Jahan, New York: The Feminist Press, 1988; and N.Y. Hossain, “Rokeya Sakhawat Hossain 1880–1932: The Status of Muslim Women in Bengal,” unpublished PhD thesis, University of London, 1996. Punjabi Muslim women have received attention in: Dushka Saiyid, Muslim Women of the British Punjab: From Seclusion to Politics, London: MacMillan, 1998. 31 The diverse nature of the princely states has been commented on by Ian Copland in The Princes of India in the Endgame of Empire 1917–1947, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997, 8–11. 32 John Lord’s description of the Begam of Bhopal is not so poetic; she is simply “A Relatively Liberated Woman.” The Maharajas, London: Hutchinson & Co., 1972. Other books of this type include: Charles Allen and Sharada Dwivedi, Lives of the Indian Princes, London: Century Publishing, 1984; Ann Morrow, Highness: The Maharajahs of India, London: Grafton Books, 1986; and Diwan Jarmani Dass, Maharaja; Lives and Loves and Intrigues of Indian Princes, Bombay: Allied Publishers, 1969. 33 Copland, Princes; Barbara Ramusack, The Princes of India in the Twilight of Empire: Dissolution of a Patron-Client System, 1914–1939, Columbus: Ohio State University Press, 1978; and Steven Ashton, British Policy Towards the Indian States, 1905–1939, London: Curzon Press, 1982. 34 See, for example, John Wood’s “Indian Nationalism in the Princely Context: The Rajkot Satyagraha of 1938–39” and Barbara Ramusack’s “Maharajas and Gurudwaras: Patiala and the Sikh Community” in Robin Jeffrey (ed.), People, Princes and Paramount Power: Society and Politics in the Indian Princely States, Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1978, 170–204, 240–74. Hyderabad, Baroda, Travancore and Mewar are also covered. 35 See, for example, Ian Copland, “‘Communalism’ in Princely States: The Case of Hyderabad, 1930–40,” Modern Asian Studies, 22: 4, 1988, 783–814; Robin Jeffrey, “A Sanctified Label – ‘Congress’ in Travancore Politics, 1938–48” in D.A. Low (ed.), Congress and the Raj: Facets of the Indian Struggle 1917–47, London: Heinemann, 1977, 435–72; and Barbara Ramusack, “Incident at Nabha: Interaction Between Indian States and British Indian Politics,” Journal of Asian Studies, 28, 1968–9, 563–77. 36 Mittal, History of Bhopal State; and Rajendra Verma, The Freedom Struggle in Bhopal State: A Gambit in the Transfer of Power, New Delhi: Intellectual Publishing House, 1984. A more objective account of the same period in Hyderabad is V.K. Bawa, The Last Nizam: The Life & Times of Mir Osman Ali Khan, New Delhi: Penguin Books, 1992. 37 Syed Ashfaq Ali, Bhopal – Past and Present, Bhopal: Jai Bharat Publishing House, 1970; Khan, Begums; Preckel, Begums; and H. Majid Husain (ed.), Rajah Bhoj se Ajtuk ka Bhopal, Bhopal: Urdu Action, 1996. 38 Some other studies of this type include: Vikram Menon, “Popular Princes: Kingship and Social Change in Travancore and Cochin 1870–1930,” unpublished PhD thesis, University of Oxford, 1998; Hira Singh, Colonial Hegemony and Popular Resistance: Princes, Peasants, and Paramount Power, London: Sage, 1998; Janaki Nair, Miners and Millhands: Work, Culture, and Politics in Princely Mysore, London: Sage, 1998; Koji Kawashima, Missionaries and a Hindu State: Travancore, 1858–1936, Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1998; Dick Kooiman, Communalism and Indian Princely States: Travancore, Baroda and Hyderabad in the 1930s, Delhi: Manohar, 2002; Manu Bhagavan, Sovereign Spheres: Princes, Education

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39 40

41 42 43 44 45

46

and Empire in Colonial India, Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2003; Chitralekha Zutshi, Languages of Belonging: Islam, Regional Identity, and the Making of Kashmir, Delhi: Permanent Black, 2004; and Mridu Rai, Hindu Rulers, Muslim Subjects: Islam, Rights, and the History of Kashmir, Delhi: Permanent Black, 2004. The panel on the history of the princely states at the European Association of South Asian Studies conference in Lund in July 2004 and the recent symposium on “The Other India” in Southampton in July 2005, as well as the publication of Barbara Ramusack’s The Indian Princes and their States (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004) in the “New Cambridge History of India” series, also hint at this vitality. This approach is to be found in Nicholas Dirks, The Hollow Crown: Ethnohistory of an Indian Kingdom, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1987. It is discussed in more detail in Chapter 2. Feminism in this context is understood to include a broader range of women’s emancipatory activities than is implicit in the definition current with contemporary Western feminists with agitation on any issue concerning women included, rather than just conscious efforts to overthrow the exploitative framework of gender relations with this family. See, for instance, Badran, Feminists, 19–26. Further elucidation of this term may be found in Timothy Mitchell, Colonising Egypt, Berkeley: University of California Press, 1991, 87–92. I am grateful to Barbara Metcalf for this insight. Baron, Women’s Awakening, 6–7. See correspondence in NAI(B), BSR no. 9 (B. 21), 1913 and BSR no. 10 (B. 76), 1922. These memoirs have since been published, with an introduction by myself, as Abida Sultaan, Memoirs of a Rebel Princess, Karachi: Oxford University Press, 2004. For further insight into the Quaker mission in Bhopal, see my “An Embassy of Equality? Quaker Missionaries in Bhopal State, 1890–1930” in Avril A. Powell and Siobhan Lambert-Hurley (eds), Rhetoric and Reality: Gender and the Colonial Experience in South Asia, Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2006, 247–81. John T. Platts, A Dictionary of Urdu¯, Classical Hindı¯ and English, New Delhi: Munshiram Manoharlal Publishers Pvt. Ltd., 1988 (reprint). The text was first published in London in 1884. 1 M ODE L S A ND I NHE RI T A NC E S

1 Sultan Jahan, An Account of My Life, vol. I, trans. C.H. Payne, London: John Murray, 1910, 28. This text was first published in Urdu under the title Gohar-iIqbal (The Pearl of Prosperity). 2 Minault, Secluded Scholars, 31–8. For the original text, see Muhammad Nazir Ahmed, Mir’at ul-‘Arus. Lucknow: Nawal Kishore Press, 1896 (reprint). It was translated into English by G.E. Ward as The Bride’s Mirror, London: Henry Frowde, 1903. 3 The first of these books described the evil effects of polygamy, while the second condemned the prohibition of widow remarriage. See Muhammad Nazir Ahmad, Muhsinat, Delhi, 1887 (2nd ed.); and Ayama, Delhi, 1891. The first was also abridged and translated into English by Khwajah Khan as Mubtala, 2 vols, Madras: The Madras Review, 1895–6. 4 Metcalf, “Maula¯na¯ Ashraf ‘Alı¯ Tha¯navı¯ and Urdu Literature,” 98–9. 5 C.M. Naim, “Prize-Winning Adab: A Study of Five Urdu Books Written in Response to the Allahabad Government Gazette Notification” in Barbara Daly Metcalf (ed.), Moral Conduct and Authority: The Place of Adab in South

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6 7 8

9 10 11

12 13 14 15 16

17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29

30 31 32

Asian Islam, Berkeley: University of California Press, 1984, 299–314; and Ali, Emergence, 14–24. Minault, Secluded Scholars, 38–55. For an English translation of this work, see Minault, Voices of Silence, 31–137. Khan, Begums, 155. Sultan Jahan Begam, Hayat-i-Qudsi: Life of the Nawab Gauhar Begum alias The Nawab Begum Qudsia of Bhopal, trans. W.S. Davis, London: Kegan Paul, Trench, Trubner & Co Ltd., 1918, 3. This biography was first published in Urdu as Hayat-i-Qudsi, Bhopal: Matba‘-i-Sultani, 1917. For an analysis of how it is representative of traditional Islamic life stories, see my “Introduction: A Princess Revealed” in Abida Sultaan, Memoirs, xxxii–xxxiii. Shah Jahan, Taj-ul Ikbal, 32. For the Maratha background, see Stewart Gordon, Marathas, Marauders and State Formation in Eighteenth Century India, Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1994, ch. 3. For this wider historical context, see Sugata Bose and Ayesha Jalal, Modern South Asia: History, Culture, Political Economy, London: Routledge, 1998, ch. 6. Sultan Jahan, Hayat-i-Qudsi, 29–30. The hadith to which I allude include the following from Bukhari: “A nation that appoints a woman as its ruler shall never prosper.” Quoted in Rafiq Zakaria, The Trial of Benazir, Bombay: Popular Prakashan, 1989, 97. On Aisha’s political activities, see Nabia Abbott, Aishah: The Beloved of Muhammad, Chicago: Chicago University Press, 1942. On Bilqis, see Mernissi, Forgotten Queens, 141–4. Hough, Brief History, 127. For discussion of Qudsia’s administrative projects, see Sultan Jahan, Hayat-iQudsi, ch. 14. Ibid., 133. Shah Jahan, Taj-ul Ikbal, 49. For connections between Qadiriyya and India, Qadiriyya and Farangi Mahall, and Farangi Mahall and Bhopal, see Francis Robinson, The ‘Ulama of Farangi Mahall and Islamic Culture in South Asia, London: Hurst & Company, 2001, 24, 58–67, 74. Hough, Brief History, 127. Sultan Jahan, Hayat-i-Qudsi, 25. On these families, see Khan, Begums, 60–6. Shah Jahan, Taj-ul Ikbal, 45–51. Quoted in Ali, Bhopal, 43. Sultan Jahan, Hayat-i-Qudsi, 98. Ibid., 105. Ibid., 151. See figure in Khan, Begums, p. 117. Sultan Jahan, Hayat-i-Qudsi, 105, 131–2. Ibid., 86. Sultan Jahan, Account, vol. I, 5. Abida Sultaan, Memoirs, 90. Shah Jahan, Taj-ul Ikbal, 58; Sultan Jahan, Account, vol. I, 19. On Sikandar’s administrative reforms, also see Uma Yaduvansh, “Administrative System of Bhopal under Nawab Sikandar Begam (1844–68),” Islamic Culture, 41 (October 1967), 205–32. Shah Jahan, Taj-ul Ikbal, 228. Hyderabad did not make the same change until 20 years after Bhopal. Khan, Begums, 92. Sultan Jahan, Account, vol. I, 7. Sambhu Chandra Mukhopadhyaya, The Career of an Indian Princess: The Late Begum Secunder of Bhopal, K.S.I., Calcutta: Anglo-Sanskrit Press, 1869, 1.

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33 G.B. Malleson, An Historical Sketch of the Native States of India in Subsidiary Alliance with the British Government, London: Longmans, Green, and Co., 1875, 202–6. 34 Quoted in Sultan Jahan, Account, vol. I, 17. 35 Quoted in Sultan Jahan, An Account of My Life, vol. III, trans. C.H. Payne, Bombay: The Times Press, 1927, 209. This text was first published in Urdu as Akhtar-i-Iqbal (The Star of Prosperity), Agra: Mufid-i-‘Amm Press, 1914. 36 For a succinct account of the rebellion in Bhopal, see Khan, Begums, 97–102. Also useful is the introduction to K.D. Bhargava, Descriptive List of Mutiny Papers in the National Archives of India, Bhopal, New Delhi: National Archives of India, 1960. 37 Sultan Jahan, Account, vol. I, 15. For the latter honour, she was celebrated in the British press. See “The Begum of Bhopal,” Illustrated London News (London), 16 May 1863. 38 Ibid., 14. 39 For this wider historical context, see Bose and Jalal, Modern South Asia, 65. 40 Salim Hamid Rizvi, “A Brief Survey of the Contribution of Bhopal to the Development of Urdu Literature” in Ali, Bhopal, appendix 12. 41 Claudia Preckel, “The Roots of Anglo-Muslim Cooperation and Islamic Reformism in Bhopal.” Presented at conference on “Reciprocal Perceptions of Different Cultures in South Asia,” Bonn, 15–18 December 1996. 42 See Aziz Ahmad, Studies in Islamic Culture in the Indian Environment, New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2000 (reprint), ch. IX on “The Walı¯-ulla¯hı¯ Movement.” 43 Sikandar, A Pilgrimage to Mecca, trans. Mrs Willoughby-Osborne, London: Wm. H. Allen & Co., 1870, 98–9. For a more detailed discussion of this narrative, see my “A Princess’ Pilgrimage: Nawab Sikandar Begam’s Account of Hajj” in Tim Youngs (ed.) Travel Writing in the Nineteenth Century, London: Anthem Press, 2006. On Shah Waliullah, see J.M.S. Baljon, Religion and Thought of Shah Wali Allah Dihlawi 1703–1762, Leiden: Brill, 1986. 44 Niyazi Berkes (trans. and ed.), Turkish Nationalism and Western Civilization, London: George Allen and Unwin, 1959, 301. 45 Sikandar, Pilgrimage, 151. 46 Preckel, Begums, 70. 47 J.H. Prinsep’s Address to the Scientific Society, 2 July 1866, printed in Yusuf Husain (ed.), Selected Documents from the Aligarh Archives, New Delhi: Asia Publishing House, 1967, 76. 48 See Lelyveld, Aligarh’s First Generation, 74–5. 49 Sultan Jahan, Hayat-i-Shahjehani: Life of Her Highness the Late Nawab Shahjehan Begum of Bhopal, trans. B. Ghosal, Bombay: The Times Press, 1926, 86. This biography was first published in Urdu as Hayat-i-Shahjahani, Agra: Mufid-i‘Amm Press, 1914. 50 Ayesha Jalal, “The Convenience of Subservience: Women and the State of Pakistan” in Deniz Kandiyoti (ed.), Women, Islam and the State, London: MacMillan Press, 1991, 80–1. This argument has been made succinctly by Partha Chatterjee in reference to Hindu nationalism in Bengal in “The Nationalist Resolution of the Women’s Question” in Kumkum Sangari and Sudesh Vaid (eds), Recasting Women: Essays in Colonial History, New Delhi: Kali for Women, 1989, 233–53. 51 Minault, “Shaikh Abdullah,” 212–14. 52 Appendix to Education Commission Report, Calcutta, 1884, 299–300, cited in Mirza, Muslim Women’s Role in the Pakistan Movement, 7.

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53 Badran, Feminists, 9; and Amin, Muslim Women in Colonial Bengal, 149–50. 54 Sultan Jahan, Hayat-i-Shahjehani, 86, 88. 55 Ayesha Jalal, Self and Sovereignty: Individual and Community in South Asian Islam Since 1850, London: Routledge, 2000, 70. 56 Jalal, “Convenience of Subservience,” 81; and Jalal, Self and Sovereignty, 69. 57 Quoted in M.S. Jain, The Aligarh Movement: Its Origins and Development, 1858– 1906, Agra: Sri Ram Mehra & Co., 1965, 109. 58 Lieutenant-Colonel Willoughby-Osborne, “Historical Sketch of the Reigning Family of Bhopal” in Sikandar, Pilgrimage, 180–1. 59 Sultan Jahan, Hayat-i-Qudsi, 123. 60 Barbara D. Metcalf, “What Happened in Mecca: Mumtaz Mufti’s ‘Labbaik’” in Robert Folkenflik (ed.), The Culture of Autobiography: Constructions of SelfRepresentation, Stanford CA: Stanford University Press, 1993, 162. 61 Michael N. Pearson, Pilgrimage to Mecca: The Indian Experience 1500–1800, Princeton: Markus Wiener Publishers, 1996, ch. 3. 62 Sikandar, Pilgrimage, 35, 106–7. 63 Sultan Jahan, The Story of a Pilgrimage to Hijaz, Calcutta: Thacker, Spink & Co., 1909, 9. 64 Sultan Jahan, Account, vol. I, 16 fn. 1. 65 Shah Jahan, Taj-ul Ikbal, 80. 66 This document, hereafter referred to as the “Diary of Sultan Jahan Begam,” was found amongst the possessions of Princess Abida Sultaan, granddaughter of Sultan Jahan, at her home in Karachi, Pakistan. It consists of just 16 pages that were composed in the 1870s when Sultan Jahan was 15 or 16 years old. It is written in Urdu, though it contains extensive Persian and Arabic vocabulary. 67 Sultan Jahan, Account, vol. I, 32. 68 Zeyneb Hanoum, A Turkish Woman’s European Impressions, ed. and intro. by Grace Ellison, London: Seeley, Service & Co. Ltd., 1913, 98–100. 69 Minault, Secluded Scholars, 25. 70 Sultan Jahan, Account, vol. I, 36–8. 71 See, for example, Malleson, Historical Sketch, 206. 72 Sultan Jahan, Account, vol. I, 32. 73 Ibid., 138. 74 Ibid., 32. 75 Abida Sultaan, Memoirs, 150. 76 Khan, Begums, 95–7. 77 For a discussion of Baqi Muhammad Khan’s credentials, see Sultan Jahan, Account, vol. I, ch. 3; and Sultan Jahan, Tazkira-i-Baqi, trans. Rashiduzzafar Khan, Calcutta: Thacker’s Press and Directories, Ltd, 1929, ch. 1. 78 For a discussion of Sultan Jahan’s marriage to Ahmad Ali Khan, see Sultan Jahan, Account, vol. I, ch. 5. 79 Sultan Jahan, Tazkira-i-Baqi, 49. 80 On yunani tibb, see Manfred Ullman, Islamic Medicine, Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 1977 (reprint), esp. ch. 2. 81 Sultan Jahan, Tazkira-i-Baqi, 57; and Sultan Jahan, An Account of My Life, vol. II, trans. Abdus Samad Khan, Bombay: The Times Press, 1922, 143. 82 See Sultan Jahan, Account, vol. II, ch. 3. 83 Abida Sultaan, Memoirs, 36. 84 Ibid., 6. 85 Sultan Jahan, Account, vol. I, 38. 86 Ibid., 35. 87 Ibid., 39–40.

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88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102

103 104

105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112 113

114 115 116 117

Sultan Jahan, “Diary of Sultan Jahan Begam” [Urdu mss.], c.1873–4, 4. Sultan Jahan, Account, vol. I, 39. Ibid., 42. Ibid., 184. Ibid., 104. Shah Jahan to Lepel Griffin, AGG, 24 January 1888, in Appeal and Correspondence of Nawab Shah Jahan Begam of Bhopal [no publication details provided]. See, for example, Shah Jahan, Taj-ul Ikbal, 160–3. Ibid., 164–5. Sultan Jahan, Hayat-i-Shahjehani, 228. Lord Landsdowne to his mother, 22 November 1891, quoted in Khan, Begums, 143. Sultan Jahan, Account, vol. I, 92–3. See IOR, CR, R/1/1/32. For other correspondence on the subject, see IOR, CR, R/1/1/33. Metcalf, Islamic Revival, 279. Copland, Princes, 18–20. “An Episode of Indian Government,” The Times (London), 27 December 1886. Similar articles were published in Indian newspapers. See, for example, Mehr-iNimruz (Bijnor), 15 May 1881 and Hindustani (Lucknow), 4 November 1885, in Selections from the Vernacular Newspapers Published in the Punjab, Northwestern Provinces, Oudh and the Central Provinces, Calcutta: Government of India, 1881, 290, 787. See extensive correspondence in IOR, CR, R/1/1/39-40-42-45-48-51-98. For a discussion of these various disagreements, see Sultan Jahan, Account, vol. I, 143–5; Memorandum by Shah Jahan to the Resident, 1 March 1882, Shah Jahan to Col. Ward, Chief Minister, 6 January 1888, and Shah Jahan to Lepel Griffin, AGG, 24 January 1888 in Appeal. See speeches recorded in Sultan Jahan, Account, vol. I, 217–20, 244–45, 261–64. The Bhopal Pamphlet: Evidence at the Enquiry Held by Her Highness Shah Jahan the Begam of Bhopal, with regard to the pamphlet, Reign of Terror in Bhopal State by Ziya ul-Haq, n.p., 1894, i. Shah Jahan Begam (comp. by order of), Khizanat ul-Lughat, 2 vols, Bhopal, 1886–7. Rizvi, “Brief Survey,” appendix 12. Annemarie Schimmel, “A Nineteenth Century Anthology of Poetesses” in Israel and Wagle, Islamic Society and Culture, 51–8. Ibid., 56. Ibid., 57. Sultan Jahan, Hayat-i-Shahjehani, 241–3. I have been able to locate only one of these literary publications by Shah Jahan Begam, namely, Taj ul-Kalam, Agra, 1897. Hafiz Muhammad Islam Sahib, “Nawab Shahjahan Begam Sahiba ki Tasanif” (The Writings of Nawab Shah Jahan Begam Sahiba), Khatun (Aligarh), no. 7, July 1912, 1–7. This author’s familiarity with Bhopal is evident in that he also wrote short biographical articles on “Begamat-i-Bhopal” (The Begams of Bhopal), Sikandar Begam and Shah Jahan Begam in Khatun (Aligarh), no. 3, March 1912, 1–9; no. 4, April 1912, 1–10; and no. 5, May, 1912, 1–9. Sultan Jahan, Hayat-i-Shahjehani, 241–3. Ibid., 80–1. Ibid., 263. S. Ashfaq Ali, A Guide to Bhopal: A Socio-Cultural Study, Bhopal: Jai Bharat Publishing House, 1987, 27–8.

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118 Alan Crosby, A History of Woking, Chichester: Philmore & Co., 1982, 114–16. 119 Sultan Jahan, Hayat-i-Shahjehani, 82. 120 Ellison Banks Findly, Nur Jahan: Empress of Mughal India, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1993, 36. 121 Sultan Jahan, Hayat-i-Shahjehani, 82. Also see the fictionalized account, “Pari Bazar,” by Shrimati Asma Mannan Ansari in The Glance (Bhopal), December 1964, reprinted in Ali, Bhopal, appendix 2. 122 Sultan Jahan, Hayat-i-Shahjehani, 82–3. 123 Sultan Jahan, Account, vol. I, 152–63, 250–2. 124 For more on Siddiq Hasan’s early life, see Saeedullah, Life and Works of Muhammad Siddiq Hasan Khan, Lahore: Mohammad Ashraf, 1973. 125 Sultan Jahan, Account, vol. I, 124. 126 Shah Jahan, Taj-ul Ikbal, 151. 127 Ibid., 229. 128 Cited in Metcalf, Islamic Revival, 282. 129 Ibid., 293. 130 Lelyveld, Aligarh’s First Generation, 139–41. 131 Sultan Jahan, Hayat-i-Shahjehani, 235. 132 See Jalal, Self and Sovereignty, 68, 73. 133 This summary is based on Metcalf, Islamic Revival, 268–96. 134 Saeedullah, Muhammad Siddiq Hasan Khan, 150–7. 135 Shah Jahan, Taj-ul Ikbal, 95. 136 Sultan Jahan, Account, vol. I, 41–2. 137 Ibid., 102, 106. 138 Ibid., 102. 139 Schimmel, “Nineteenth Century Anthology,” 57–8. 140 Ibid., 107. 141 Sultan Jahan, Account, vol. II, 129. 142 A copy of the agreement may be found in Sultan Jahan, Account, vol. I, appendix B. 143 Ibid., 76–7. 144 Shah Jahan, Taj-ul Ikbal, 159. 145 Sultan Jahan, Account, vol. I, 103–4. 146 Sultan Jahan, Account, vol. I, 284. The running of this institution is described in more detail by Shah Jahan Begam herself in Taj-ul Ikbal, 193. 147 Sultan Jahan Begam, Hayat-i-Shahjehani, 86–9. 148 See, for example, C.E. Luard, Gwalior State Gazetteer: Texts and Tables, Calcutta: Superintendent Government Printing, 1908, 120–1. 149 Sultan Jahan, Hayat-i-Shahjehani, 69–71. For comparisons with neighbouring states, see Imperial Gazetteer of India: Central India, Calcutta: Superintendent Government Printing, 1908, 74. 150 Woodsmall, Moslem Women, 304. 151 Sultan Jahan, Account, vol. I, 246. 152 Muhammad Islam, “Nawab Shahjahan Begam Sahiba ki Tasanif,” 2–3. 153 Shah Jahan, Tahzib un-Niswan wa Tarbiyat ul-Insan, Delhi: Matba‘-i-Ansari, 1889. For comparison with Bihishti Zewar, see the partial English translation in Metcalf, Perfecting Women, 39–381. 154 Sultan Jahan, Hayat-i-Shahjehani, 245 155 See Hossain, “Rokeya,” 64. 156 Her use of this nickname for her youngest son is documented in Khan, Begums, 144. 157 For examples of princes who fit this stereotype, see Copland, Princes of India, 4–5.

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158 Sultan Jahan, Account, vol. II, 28. 159 Luard, Census of India, 1901, vol. XIX, 51. 2 S T A T E A ND SOC I E T Y 1 C.S. Bayley, AGG, to H.S. Barnes, FS, 22 March 1902, NAI(ND), GOI, F&P, January 1903, nos 191–6. 2 Copland, Princes, 20–1. 3 Bayley to Barnes, 17 June, 1902, NAI(ND), GOI, F&P, January 1903, nos 191–6. 4 Dirks, Hollow Crown, 5–9. Also see Clifford Geertz, Negara: The Theatre State in Nineteenth-Century Bali, Princeton NJ: Princeton University Press, 1980. 5 Copland, Princes, 25. 6 See Ramusack, Indian Princes and their States; and Singh, Colonial Hegemony and Popular Resistance. I am also basing this summary on their contributions to the recent symposium on “The Other India” in Southampton in July 2005. 7 Luard, Census of India, 1901, vol. XIX, 51–2; Luard, Bhopal State Gazetteer, vol. III, 48, 99; C.E. Luard, Census of India, 1911, vol. XVII, Calcutta: Superintendent Government Printing, 1913; C.E. Luard, Census of India, 1921, vol. XVIII, Calcutta: Superintendent Government Printing, 1923. For comparison with Bihar, see J. Krishnamurty, “Deindustrialisation in Gangetic Bihar During the Nineteenth Century: Another Look at the Evidence,” The Indian Economic and Social History Review, 22: 4 (1985), 399–416. 8 “Synopsis of Administrative Events of the Bhopal State for the Year 1921” in NAI(ND), GOI, BPA, no. 351, 1921. 9 Khan, Begums, appendix 2. For a discussion of India’s four million Gonds and equally numerous Bhils in a historical context, see David Hardiman, The Coming of the Devi: Adivasi Assertion in Western India, Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1987, esp. 11–17. 10 See, for example, Luard, Census of India, 1901, vol. XIX, 51. 11 “Synopsis of Administrative Events of the Bhopal State for the Year 1921” in NAI(ND), GOI, BPA, no. 351, 1921. 12 Luard, Census of India, 1901, vol. XIX, 52; and Luard, Bhopal State Gazetteer, vol. III, 98. 13 R.H. Gunion, Census of India, 1891, Volume XXVII: Central India, Calcutta: Office of the Superintendent of Government Printing, India, 1893, 74. 14 On this process as it related to the formalization of “Hindu” Hindi in the early twentieth century, see Francesca Orsini, The Hindi Public Sphere 1920–1940: Language and Literature in the Age of Nationalism, Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2002. 15 Veena Oldenburg, Dowry Murder: The Imperial Origins of a Cultural Crime, Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2002, ch. 2. She refers to the way in which census figures on the Muslim community in Punjab were ignored or discredited by colonial officers so as not to “sabotage” this “grand theory” in ibid., 63–5. 16 See NAI(ND), GOI, F&P, April 1915, nos 767–75. 17 See, for example, Luard, Census of India, 1921, vol. XVIII, 59. For comparison with elsewhere in India, see Lelyveld, Aligarh’s First Generation, 13. 18 Abida Sultaan, Memoirs, 9–11. On the Jalalabadis, also see Khan, Begums, 115–16, 157–8. 19 On the growth of sectarian and communal tensions in India generally, see Jalal, Self and Sovereignty, 235–6; and Gyanendra Pandey, The Construction of Communalism in Colonial North India, Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1992,

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20

21 22

23 24 25 26

27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42

esp. 233–5. With reference to Central India in particular, see Kanchanmoy Mojumdar, Safron versus Green: Communal Politics in the Central Provinces and Berar, 1919–1947, New Delhi: Manohar Publishers, 2003. On the growth of people’s movements in princely states, see Wood, “Indian Nationalism in the Princely Context,” 250–4. See comments of Mrs. Ranken, wife of Colonel George Patrick Ranken, in her 1911 article, “The Veiled Ruler,” IOL, Ranken Collection, MSS.Eur.F.182; and Sughra Humayon Mirza, Roznamchah Safar Bhopal, Hyderabad: al-Nisa Monthly, 1924, 35–6. Sultan Jahan, “On the Parsis” in Speeches of Indian Princes on Politics, Allahabad: Prince and Press, 1919, 51. Hamidullah Khan, as chief secretary of the state, spelt out these controls in connection with the non-cooperation movement, but they were equally effective in containing agitation against the state. Hamidullah Khan to C.E. Luard, PA, 12 May 1920, NAI(B), BSR no. 175 (B. 61), 1920. For a discussion of the equally restrictive laws in Gwalior, Jaipur, and other states, see Copland, Princes, 30. Sir Adamji Peerbhoy to Hardinge, 8 March 1915, NAI(ND), GOI, F&P, April 1915, nos 767–75. O.V. Bosanquet, AGG, to J. Wood, PS, 23 February 1915, ibid. “Synopsis of Administrative Events of the Bhopal State for the Year 1921” in NAI(ND), GOI, BPA, no. 351, 1921. See extract from Abhyudaya (Allahabad), 21 April 1923, in NAI(B), BSR, no. 174 (B. 85), 1923; extract from Lokmitra (Lucknow), 3 November 1923, in NAI(B), BSR, no. 14 (B. 89), 1923–4; Qazi Ali Haidar Abbasi, PS, Bhopal, to C. H. Gabriel, PA, 17 May 1924, NAI(B), BSR, no. 22 (B. 89), 1923–4; and extract from Pratap, 6 October 1924 in NAI(B), BSR, no. 10 (B. 99), 1924–5. Charu Gupta, Sexuality, Obscenity, Community: Women, Muslims, and the Hindu Public in Colonial India, Delhi: Permanent Black, 2001, 242. Jarida, the Bhopal Gazette, 7 July 1920. Copy of paragraph 146 of the UP Secret Abstract of Intelligence, 3 May 1924, NAI(B), BSR, no. 31 (B. 89), 1923–4. Resolution passed at a meeting of the Arya Samaj (College Section), Rawalpindi, 29 April 1924, in NAI(B), BSR, no. 1 (B. 99), 1924–5. Copy of Delhi Secret Abstract of Intelligence, 3 May 1924, ibid. Pandit Sankernath, “An Open Letter to Her Highness the Begum Saheba of Bhopal,” Servant (Calcutta), 16 May 1924, in IOR, CR, R/1/1/1499. Gupta, Sexuality, Obscenity, Community, 242. “The Bhopal Apostasy Circular” in Young India (Madras), 12 June 1924. Note on cow slaughter by Luard, 24 November 1920, IOR, RR, R/2/425/40. See “Remarkable Reforms under a Woman Ruler” in Stridharma (Madras), 6, March 1923; and letters from members of the Women’s Christian Temperance Union in NAI(B), BSR, no. 141 (B. 93), 1923–4. Report on the political situation in Central India for the fortnight ending 15 December 1921, IOR, CR, R/1/1/950. Extract from Awadh Akhbar (Lucknow), 27 November 1923, in NAI(B), BSR, no. 14 (B. 89), 1923–4. Abida Sultaan, Memoirs, 150. Also see Syed Ashfaq Ali, “Bhopal – A Shining Example of Hindu–Muslim Unity and Brotherhood” in his Bhopal, appendix 17. Copland, “‘Communalism’ in Princely India,” 789–91. Note of CID, 17 March 1921, NAI(B), BSR, no. 174 (B. 85), 1923. Haidar Abbasi to Gabriel, PA, 17 May 1924, NAI(B), BSR, no. 22 (B. 89), 1923–4.

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43 “Wolf! Wolf!” in United India and Indian States (Madras), 31 May 1924, in NAI(B), BSR, no. 1 (B. 99), 1924–5. 44 Haidar Abbasi to A.R. Jelf, PA, 15 October 1924, ibid. 45 Bosanquet to Wood, 21 March 1915, ibid. 46 For a discussion of laissez-faire, see D.A. Low, “Laissez-Faire and Traditional Rulership in Princely India” in Jeffrey, People, Princes and Paramount Power, 372–87. 47 For a discussion of the princely lobby for press protection, see Ramusack, Princes, 122–8. Though the Begam had remained aloof from the Chamber, she had expressed her approval for the scheme in private letters to British officials. See Sultan Jahan to Luard, 9 September 1920, NAI(B), BSR, no. 11 (B. 65), 1920. For a discussion of changes initiated in relation to the princes by Reading, see Copland, Princes, 44–5. 48 Khwaja Kamaluddin, Muslim aur Ghair-Muslim ke Ta‘alluqat, Bhopal: Ruler of Bhopal, 1924. 49 Maimoona Sultan Shah Bano Begam, Iftikhar ul-Mulk, 27. This short sketch of Hamidullah’s life was contained in the private collection of Princess Abida Sultaan in Karachi. Though it contains no publication details, it appears to have been printed in Bhopal in the late 1920s. 50 See various letters, newspaper cuttings and memorandums in IOR, CR, R/1/1/2234; and P.L. Chudgar, Member of Indian States’ Peoples’ Delegation, “Indian Peoples and Princes” in New Leader, 11 January 1929, in IOR, L/P&S/10/1212. 51 Abida Sultaan, Memoirs, 173. 52 Sultan Jahan, Account, vol. II, 26–7. 53 Ibid., 274; Sultan Jahan, Account, vol. III, 132. 54 “Administrative Report of 1920” in NAI(ND), GOI, BPA, no. 289, 1920; and “Synopsis of Administrative Events of the Bhopal State for the Year 1921” in NAI(ND), GOI, BPA, no. 351, 1921. 55 See, for instance, Administration Report of the Bhopal State for the Year 1336 Mohamedi (23rd March 1907 to 22nd March 1908), Allahabad: Pioneer Press, 1908, 4–17. 56 Ibid., 17–18. 57 Mr A.L.P. Tucker, Officiating AGG, to Sec. to the GOI in the FD, 4 October 1912, NAI(ND), GOI, F&P, June 1913, nos 137–140. A favourable comparison may be drawn here with other princely states located in the Malwa region, notably Gwalior, for whom opium was also crucial to their economies. Amar Farooqui, “The Scindia State during the early Nineteenth Century,” paper given at the symposium on “The Other India,” University of Southampton, 8–10 July 2005. 58 Ibid. 59 See, for instance, correspondence between the District Officer of Benares and Bhopal’s Political Secretary in connection with a request for a maintenance grant for the Islamia Mazhar ul-Ulam School in Benares in NAI(B), BSR, no. 43 (B. 78), 1922. 60 See, for instance, Administration Report of the Bhopal State (1 October 1912–30 September 1913), Bhopal: Qudsia Press, 1916. 61 Sultan Jahan, Account, vol. III, 9, 16. 62 Personal communication of Princess Abida Sultaan of Bhopal, Karachi, 19 October 1995. 63 “Administration Report of 1922” by Qazi Ali Haidar Abbasi, PS, Bhopal, in NAI(ND), GOI, BPA no. 211, 1922; and “New Constitution for Bhopal State” in The Statesman (Calcutta), 9 February 1922.

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64 Sultan Jahan, Account, vol. II, 105. 65 Bayley to Barnes, 17 June, 1902, NAI(ND), GOI, F&P, January 1903, nos 191–6. 66 Sultan Jahan, Account, vol. II, 51. 67 See, for instance, “Review of Her Highness of Bhopal’s 1905–06 Administration Report” by C.S. Bayley, PA, in NAI(ND), GOI, BPA, no. 100/1, 1906. 68 Bosanquet to Wood, 7 October 1916, IOR, CR, R/1/1/1154. 69 Robinson, ‘Ulama of Farangi Mahall, 74; and Sultan Jahan, Account, vol. III, 10–11. On this latter figure and his Ahl-i-Sunnat wa Jama‘at movement, see Usha Sanyal, Devotional Islam & Politics in British India: Ahmad Riza Khan Barelwi and his Movement, 1870–1920, Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1996. 70 Sultan Jahan, Account, vol. III, 252. In her history of the madrasa at Deoband, Metcalf also mentions connections between the institution and Bhopal state. See Islamic Revival, 87, 96. 71 C.R. Cleveland, Dir., CID, to Bosanquet, 26 October 1916, IOR, CR, R/1/1/1154; and Metcalf, Islamic Revival, 108, 128. 72 On Khalil Ahmad’s career, see Metcalf, Islamic Revival, 129–32. 73 On this campaign, see Jalal, Self and Sovereignty, 290–7. 74 On Ahmadi theology, see Yohann Friedmann, Prophecy Continuous: Aspects of Ahmadi Religious Thought and its Medieval Background, Berkeley: University of California Press, 1989, part 3. 75 My depiction of the Woking Muslim Mission as a Bhopali enterprise is supported by the weekly reports sent by officials at the mosque to Sultan Jahan Begam, detailing, among other administrative matters, the numbers, names, and status of new English converts. For innumerable letters of this type written in 1919 and 1920 by Dost Muhammad of the Woking Mosque, see NAI(B), BSR, no. 100 (B. 56), 1919. 76 Khwaja Kamaluddin, The Ideal Prophet, Woking: The Islamic Review Office, 1925, xxiii. 77 On this doctrinal divide, see Friedmann, Prophecy Continuous, ch. 7. 78 Bosanquet to Wood, 9 December 1914, and note by Cleveland, 18 December 1914, IOR, CR, R/1/1/1124. For a summary of his career that fails to mention this work, see Francis Robinson, Separatism Among Indian Muslims: The Politics of the United Provinces Muslims 1860–1923, Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1993 (reprint), 359–60. For other examples of early Aligarh appointments to the Education Department, see “Review” of Her Highness’ administrative report by C.S. Bayley, PA, June, 1903, in NAI(ND), GOI, BPA, no. 100/1, 1906. 79 Sultan Jahan, Account, vol. III, 10–11. 80 “Fortnightly Report on the Political Situation in Central India for the Fortnight Ending 15 June 1922” in IOR, CR, R/1/950. 81 This “pernicious gang” is discussed at length in correspondence gathered in IOR, CR, R/1/1/1159, as well as a number of other colonial records relating to Bhopal. For a summary of Abdur Rahman Bijnori and Abdur Rahman Siddiqui’s political activities, see Robinson, Separatism, 369, 387–8. 82 See Mushirul Hasan, A Nationalist Conscience: M.A. Ansari, the Congress and the Raj, New Delhi: Manohar, 1987. 83 Barbara D. Metcalf, “Hakim Ajmal Khan: Rais of Delhi and Muslim ‘Leader’” in her Islamic Contestations: Essays on Muslim in India and Pakistan, Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2004, 169. On this figure, see also Metcalf’s “Nationalist Muslims in British India: The Case of Hakim Ajmal Khan” in ibid., 120–50. 84 See Ian Henderson, Abul Kalam Azad: An Intellectual and Religious Biography, ed. Gail Minault and Christian Troll, Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1993. 85 Ibid., 37–8.

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86 Abida Sultaan, Memoirs, 13–16. 87 Theodore P. Wright, “Muslim Kinship and Modernization: The Tyabji Clan of Bombay” in Imtiaz Ahmad (ed.), Family, Kinship and Marriage among Muslims in India, Delhi: Manohar, 1976, 227. On Badruddin Tyabji, see Husain B. Tyabji, Badruddin Tyabji: A Biography, Bombay: Thacker & Co., 1952. 88 Personal communication of Princess Abida Sultaan of Bhopal, Karachi, 24 October 1995. 89 On Nadwa, see Metcalf, Islamic Revival, 335–47. For a highly nuanced discussion of the relationship between Atiya and Shibli, see Sunil Sharma, “Veiled by Metaphors, Confessed in a Poem: Maulana Shibli Numani and the Mystery of the Beloved’s Identity,” paper given at the workshop on “Friendship, Love, Sex, Kin, and Marriage: Early Modern and Modern Transformations,” Harvard University, 13 May 2005. 90 Peter Hardy, The Muslims of British India, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998 (reprint), 176. 91 See, for instance, a section entitled “Do you have any of these books on your bookshelf?” in Zil us-Sultan (Bhopal), 5:9 (February 1918), 67–8. 92 Sharma, “Veiled.” 93 Personal communication of Princess Abida Sultaan of Bhopal, Karachi, 24 October 1995. 94 Letter from Alice, Lady Reading, to family in England, 22 February 1923, IOL, Lady Reading Papers, MSS.Eur.E.316/3/#8. 95 See, for instance, Abru Begam (ed.), Rahbar-i-Akhlaq, Bhopal: Sultania Press, 1922, i. 96 Abida Sultaan, Memoirs, 276. 97 AIWC (February 1928), 22–3. 98 On her political beliefs, see Verinder Grover and Ranjana Arora (eds.), Sarojini Naidu: A Biography of Her Vision and Ideas, New Delhi: Deep & Deep Publications, 1999. 99 Bayley to Barnes, 17 June, 1902, NAI(ND), GOI, F&P, January 1903, nos 191–6. 100 Ali, “Bhopal,” appendix 17. Even in the communally fraught decades before independence, Nawab Hamidullah Khan’s chief minister was – perhaps for that very reason – a Hindu, namely, Raja Sir Oudh Narain Bisarya. 101 “Administrative Report of 1920” in NAI(ND), GOI, BPA, no. 289, 1920. 102 See my “Embassy of Equality?,” 267. 103 Abida Sultaan, Memoirs, 17; and personal communication of Princess Abida Sultaan of Bhopal, Karachi, 21 October 1995. 104 Personal communication of Abida Sultaan of Bhopal, Karachi, 19 October 1995. 105 Sultan Jahan, Account, vol. II, 15. 106 Abida Sultaan, Memoirs, 44. 107 Unpublished memoirs of W.S. Davis, IOL, Davis Collection, Photo.Eur.291, 149–74. 108 See Luard, Census of India, 1901, vol. XIX; Census of India, 1911, vol. XVII; Census of India, 1921, vol. XVIII; and Bhopal State Gazetteer. 109 See Sultan Jahan, Account, vol. III. 110 See Ian Copland, “The Other Guardians: Ideology and Performance in the Indian Political Service” in Jeffrey (ed.), People, Princes and Paramount Power, 275–305. 111 Bosanquet to Wood, 9 December 1914, IOR, CR, R/1/1/1124; Bosanquet to Wood, 7 October 1916 and 27 October 1916, IOR, CR, R/1/1/1154; and Bosanquet to Cleveland, 6 November 1916, Bosanquet to Wood, 13 November 1916 and

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112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122

123 124 125 126 127 128

129

130

131 132 133 134

19 November 1916, IOR, CR, R/1/1/1154. On his later activities in Bhopal, see Mittal, History of Bhopal State, 108. Ramusack, Princes, 42. Edwin S. Montagu, An Indian Diary, London: William Heinemann Ltd., 1930, 22, 328. Ibid., 138, 212. Sultan Jahan to Davis, 22 December 1920, NAI(B), BSR, no. 1 (B. 59), 1920. Ibid. Proceedings of the Conference of Ruling Princes and Chiefs: Held at Delhi on the 20th January 1919 and Following Days, Delhi: Superintendent Government Printing, 1919, 78. See correspondence between government officers and the two Muslim rulers in IOR, L/P&S/10/916. Copland, Princes, 47. On his participation in this body, see Mittal, History of Bhopal State, ch. 4, as well as extensive references in Copland, Princes and Ramusack, Princes. Mary, Countess of Minto, India, Minto and Morley, London: Macmillan & Co. Ltd., 1935, 348; and Lady Reading to family in England, 22 February 1923, IOL, Lady Reading Collection, MSS.Eur.E.316/3/#8. See references to Mrs Bayley, Mrs Spence and Lady O’Dwyer, among other officers’ wives, in “A Brief Decennial Report of ‘The Princess of Wales Ladies’ Club,’ Bhopal” in A Brief Decennial Report of “The Princess of Wales Ladies’ Club,” Bhopal, Calcutta: Thacker, Spink & Co., 1922, 7. See speeches quoted in Sultan Jahan, Account, vol. II, 13–5, 87–8. Khan, Begums, 212. Sultan Jahan, Account, vol. III, 52 For a comparison with Sayyid Ahmad Khan, see Metcalf, Islamic Revival, 322. Bawa, Last Nizam, 73. For a development of this argument, see my “Princes, Paramountcy and the Politics of Muslim Identity: The Begam of Bhopal on the Indian National Stage, 1901–1926,” South Asia: Journal of South Asian Studies, 26:2, 2003, 169–95. For comparison, see Francis Robinson, “Islam and Muslim Separatism” in his Islam and Muslim History in South Asia, New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2000, 177–209. Sultan Jahan to Luard, PA, 12 March 1920, NAI(B), BSR, no. 175 (B. 61), 1920. These same views were subsequently conveyed in an abbreviated form by cable to the Viceroy and the King-Emperor. See Wire Express of Sultan Jahan to Chelmsford, n.d., ibid; Sultan Jahan to Chelmsford, 6 March 1921, IOL, Chelmsford Collection, MSS.Eur.E.264/26; and Blakeway to J.P. Thompson, Officer on Special Duty, 8 February 1922, IOR, CR, R/1/1/875. See correspondence between Luard and Hamidullah in NAI(B), BSR, no. 175 (B. 61), 1920, as well as the Fortnightly Reports on the political situation in Central India, especially for the fortnights ending 28 February 1921 and 31 January 1922, IOR, CR, R/1/1/950 and R/1/1/1387. On the hijrat movement, see M. Naeem Qureshi, “The ‘Ulama¯’ of British India and the Hijrat of 1920,” Modern Asian Studies, 13:1, 1979, 41–59. Thompson to D.P. Blakeway, 24 February 1922, IOR, CR, R/1/1/875. For a discussion of Reading’s renewal of an interventionist policy in the early 1920s, see Copland, Princes, 50–6. Blakeway to G.D. Ogilvie, Officiating PS, 1 October 1923, IOR, CR, R/1/1/1499. For a discussion of this incident, see Ramusack, “Incident at Nabha,” 563–77. Ogilvie to Blakeway, 16 October 1923, IOR, CR, R/1/1/1499.

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135 Haidar Abbasi to Caliph Abdul Majid, 19 September 1924, NAI(B), BSR, no. 10 (B. 107), 1926. 136 R. Glancy, AGG, to Thompson, PS, 15 August 1924, IOR, CR, R/1/1/1500. 137 Proceedings of the Conference of Ruling Princes and Chiefs: Held at Delhi on the 30th October 1916 and Following Days, Delhi: Superintendent Government Printing, 1916, 7. 138 Ibid., 76–7. 139 Ibid., 97–8. 140 Glancy to Thompson, 13 September 1924, IOR, CR, R/1/1/1500. 141 Note of K.S. Fitze, 16 December 1924, ibid. 142 See newspaper cuttings from various Urdu and English newspapers in IOR, CR, R/2/453/68. Khwaja Kamaluddin, Sultan Jahan Begam’s appointment as Imam of Woking Mosque, also made a persuasive argument in favour of her case in “Her Highness The Begum of Bhopal and Her Succession,” Islamic Review (Woking), 13, October–November 1925, 346–53. 143 Examination of cases cited by Fitze to Thompson, 14 November 1925, IOR, CR, R/1/1/1500. 144 I am grateful to Princess Abida Sultaan for her amusing account of this incident. 145 Dispatch on Bhopal Succession, 14 January 1926, IOR, CR, R/1/1/1500. See also Sir Kenneth Fitze, Twilight of the Maharajas, London: John Murray, 1956, 119. 146 Sultan Jahan Begam to the Viceroy, 29 April 1926, IOR, CR, R/1/1/1502. 147 On how these initiatives were developed during the reign of Hamidullah, see Mittal, History of Bhopal State, ch. 3. 148 Sultan Jahan Begam, Account, vol. II, 30. 3 S C H OL A RS A ND SC HOOL S 1 Montagu, Indian Diary, 22. 2 Copy of Resolutions, Bhopal: Qudsia Press, 1918, 1. For a further example, see the resolutions of the ladies’ conference in Shaikh Muhammad Abdullah (ed.), Riport ijlas-i-awwal al indiya muslim lediz kanfarans mun‘aqidah ba-maqam-i-‘aligarh ba-mah-i-marc 1914, Aligarh: Institute Press, 1915, 31–2. 3 See, for instance, Zil us-sultan (Bhopal), no. 19 (April 1915), 40–2, 45–50; and 5:9 (February 1918), 15–19, 23–4, 63. 4 Minault, Secluded Scholars, 110–29, 228–49. 5 Hossain, “Rokeya,” ch. 3; and Amin, Muslim Women in Colonial Bengal. 6 For a recent corrective with reference to Baroda and Mysore, see Bhagavan, Sovereign Spheres. 7 “The Indian States and Women’s Rights,” Stridharma (Madras), 10 March 1927, 66. 8 “Remarkable Reforms under a Woman Ruler” and “A Ranee Temperance Reformer” in Stridharma (Madras), 6 (1923), 65, 177; and Syed M.H. Zaidi, The Muslim Womanhood in Revolution, Calcutta: Mohammadi Press, 1937, 105–16. 9 Minault, Secluded Scholars, 55. 10 Meera Kosambi, “Returning the American Gaze: Situating Pandita Ramabai’s American Encounter” in Meera Kosambi (trans. and ed.), Pandita Ramabai’s American Encounter: The Peoples of the United States (1889), Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2003, 13. 11 Ibid., 114–15. 12 Hossain, Sultana’s Dream, 7–18. 13 Minault, Secluded Scholars, 265. 14 Zafar Ali (interview by), “Mahomedan Female Education: The Begum of

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15 16

17 18

19

20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28

29 30 31 32

Bhopal: Her Opinion on the Subject,” The Indian Social Reformer (Bombay), 13:50, 16, (August 1903), 517–8; and Metcalf, Perfecting Women, 326. Sultan Jahan, A Proposal by Her Highness the Begum of Bhopal for the Foundation of a Girls’ School at Delhi in Commemoration of Her Majesty Queen Mary’s Visit to India in December, 1911, Bhopal: Qudsia Press, 1912, 6. Italics added. Sultan Jahan, Sabil ul-Jinan, Bhopal: Ruler of Bhopal, 1917, i–iii; and presidential speech at the Muslim Ladies’ Conference in G. Baksh (ed.), Silk-i-Shahwar, Bhopal: Ruler of Bhopal, 1919, 128–34. The latter speech was also printed in Risala-i-Anjuman-i-Himayat-i-Islam (Lahore), 30 (March–April 1914), 18–24. Sultan Jahan, Account, vol. I, 284. For just one of many examples in her speeches and tracts, see Sultan Jahan’s response to the speech of the committee of the Aligarh Women’s Madrasa in Abdullah, Riport, 21. In Mir’at ul-‘Arus, Nazir Ahmad wrote: “the cart of life cannot move an inch unless it has one wheel of man and another wheel of woman.” Quoted in Naim, “Prize-Winning Adab,” 305. Address by Sultan Jahan Begam to the Khawatin-i-Dakkan, Hyderabad, 3 September 1918, in Baksh, Silk-i-Shahwar, 180. Also see the speech given by Sultan Jahan on polygamy and the equality of sexual rights at a grand meeting of the ladies’ club in Bhopal in 1921 in Decennial Report, 186–7. See, for example, Qasim Amin’s al-Mar’a al-jadida, discussed in Thomas Philipp, “Feminism and Nationalist Politics in Egypt” in Beck and Keddie, Women in the Muslim World, 279. “English Translation of a Speech Delivered by Her Highness the Nawab Begam of Bhopal at the Anniversary of the Ladies’ Club, Held in the Year 1913” in Decennial Report, 136. This book was reprinted numerous times in three parts, but a complete version is: Sultan Jahan, Bagh-i-‘Ajib (parts 1, 2 and 3), Bhopal: Hamidia Art Press, 1924. See, for instance, speech by Abru Begam in Nafis Dulhan (ed.), Riport muta‘alliq ijlas-i-duwam al indiya muslim lediz kanfarans ba-maqam ‘Aligarh mun‘aqidah-iduwum o chahum April 1915, Aligarh: Institute Press, 1915, 45–8. Decennial Report, 179–80; and Metcalf, Perfecting Women, 7. See, for example, Sultan Jahan, Draft Scheme for a Girls’ High School at Delhi, Allahabad: Pioneer Press, 1912, 1–2. See, for instance, Rashid ul-Khairi’s curriculum for the Muslim girls’ school that he had founded at Delhi, as published in a special issue of ‘Ismat in 1921 entitled Talim-i-Niswan. Ali, Emergence, 27–8 n. 68. Sultan Jahan (drawn up under the instruction of), Curriculum for AngloVernacular Girls’ Middle and Girls’ Leaving Certificates, Bhopal: Sultania Press, n.d., 1–10. “English Translation of a Speech Delivered by Her Highness the Nawab Begam of Bhopal, in the Ladies’ Club, on 29 January, 1912” in Decennial Report, 157. This speech was also printed in the original Urdu in Khatun (Aligarh), no. 2 (February 1912), 1–10. Swapna Banerjee, “Child, Mother, and Servant: Motherhood and Domestic Ideology in Colonial Bengal” in Powell and Lambert-Hurley, Rhetoric and Reality, 21. Sultan Jahan’s presidential speech in AIWC on Educational Reform, Delhi (February 1928), 23–31. Extracts from this speech were also printed in Stridharma (Madras), 10 March 1928, 71–2. Sultan Jahan, Account, 1912, 323. Also see Sultan Jahan’s response to the Committee of the Girls’ School in Abdullah, Riport, 26. Speeches by Begam Khadiv Jang on resolutions one and two in A Short Summary of the Proceedings of the First Session of the All-India Ladies’ Association

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33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47

48 49

50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57

58 59 60

[hereafter Proceedings], Bhopal: Sultania Press, 1918, 8–9. On Begam Khadiv Jang, see Minault, Secluded Scholars, 208–13. Ibid., 8–9. Baksh, Silk-i-Shahwar, 153–4. For a brief discussion of the National Women’s University project, see Geraldine Forbes, Women in Modern India, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996, 53. Kumari Jayawardena, Feminism and Nationalism in the Third World, London: Zed Books, 1986, 14. Speech by Iqtidar Dulhan in Proceedings, 12. Hossain, “Rokeya,” 162. Metcalf, Perfecting Women, 54–62. Sultan Jahan, Matbakh-i-King George, Agra: Shamsi Steam Press, n.d. Sultan Jahan, Curriculum, 10–12. See Mario M. Montessori, Education for Human Development: Understanding Montessori, Oxford: Clio, 1992 (rev. ed.). Sultan Jahan Begam’s presidential speech was printed in the original Urdu in Silk-i-shahwar, 162–74. It was translated into English in Islamic Review (Woking), 6 (October–November 1918), 363–6; and Proceedings, 4–8. Presidential speech in Proceedings, 5. Sultan Jahan Begam’s response to the committee of the Aligarh Girls’ School in Abdullah, Riport, 24–5. For comparison, see the work of Jeffrey Diamond. Sultan Jahan, Account, 1912, 324. Presidential speech in Baksh, Silk-i-Shahwar, 128–34; response given to the committee of the Aligarh Girls’ School in Abdullah, Riport, 20–9; and “On Mahomedan Education” in Speeches of Indian Princes on Politics, 41–9. The second speech was also printed in various women’s magazines, including Zil usSultan (Bhopal), 1 (February 1914), 28–46; and Khatun (Aligarh), 9 (February– March 1914), 44–54. Ram Vallabh, Second Master, Sehore High School, “Report of the Scholarship Examination of the Girls’ School Sehore,” NAI(ND), GOI, BPA, no. 57, 1901. A. Taylor to H. Catford, 8 March 1923, FSC/IN/4; and A.P. Fowler, “The Children’s Page: The Great Day” in The Quaker at Home and Abroad (London), 7 (January 1912), 9. For a more detailed discussion of Quaker projects in Bhopal, see my “An Embassy of Equality?” Pandit Sukhdeo Tiwari, Special Educational Officer of the Central India Agency, Report on the State of Education in the Central India Agency, Indore: CIA (Government) Press, 1913, 65. See Minault, “Purdah’s Progress,” 87–8. On these institutions, see Shahnawaz, Father and Daughter, 31–2; and Minault, Secluded Scholars, ch. 5. Bawa, Last Nizam, 52–3, 62; and Minault, Secluded Scholars, 204–6. Minault, Secluded Scholars, 222, 239 n. 81; and Nurul Zaman Ahmad Auj, Legacy of Cholistan, Multan: Caravan Book Centre, 1995, 197. Sultan Jahan, Account, vol. II, 151. Woodsmall, Moslem Women, 161. Sultan Jahan Begam’s speech to staff members of the Sultania Girls’ School at the opening of the boarding house and training class in Baksh, Silk-i-Shahwar, 150–3. For comparisons with Aligarh, see Begam Abdullah’s speech at the opening ceremony of the Aligarh Girls’ School hostel in Abdullah, Riport, 16–17. See, for example, Hossain, “Rokeya,” 175. Ellen Nainby Circular, 9 July 1924, FSC/IN/4. For comparison, see Minault, Secluded Scholars, 246.

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61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73

74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92

Ellen Nainby Circular, 9 July 1924, FSC/IN/4. Sultan Jahan, Account, vol. II, 150–3. Hossain, “Rokeya,” 158; and Minault, “Shaikh Abdullah,” 230. Sultan Jahan Begam’s speech to staff members of the Sultania Girls’ School at the opening of the boarding house and training class in Baksh, Silk-i-Shahwar, 150–3. Ellen Nainby Circular, 9 July 1924, FSC/IN/4; and loose papers of the diary of Miss Yvonne Alice Gertrude Fitzroy, private secretary to Lady Reading, 1921–5, 18 February 1923, IOL, Fitzroy Collection, MSS.Eur.E.312/8. Sultan Jahan, Account, vol. III, 125. Sultan Jahan, Account, vol. III, 75. Baksh, Silk-i-Shahwar, 150–3. “Address by S.M. Paul, Lady Superintendent, Sultania Girls’ School, Bhopal” in miscellaneous papers of Miss Fitzroy, 18 February 1923, IOL, Fitzroy Collection, MSS.Eur.E.312/8. Mary, Countess of Minto, India, Minto and Morley, 348. Sultan Jahan, Account, vol. II, 151. For a description of these visits, see Sultan Jahan, Account, vol. III, 73, 120. Speech given by Sultan Jahan Begam at a prize-giving ceremony at the Sultania Girls’ School on 14 February 1911, quoted in Account, vol. III, 121. For another example, see a speech given at the school on 13 December 1909, as published in Khatun (Aligarh), 1, January 1910, 27–34. For comparisons in the Aligarh context, see Minault, “Shaikh Abdullah,” 228ff. Zafar Omar, Administration Report of Bhopal State for 2 June, 1904 to 22 May, 1905, Allahabad: Pioneer Press, 1905, 20; Ellen Nainby Circular, 9 July 1924, FSC/ IN/4. Hossain, “Rokeya,” 128. Minault, Secluded Scholars, 239. S.K. Bhatnagar, History of the MAO College Aligarh, Delhi: Asia Publishing House, 1969, 155–6. Sultan Jahan, Account, vol. II, 254. Minault, Secluded Scholars, 239 n. 81 and 241–3. Sultan Jaham, Account, vol. III, 96; and Abdullah, Riport, 4–5. See correspondence in NAI(B), BSR, no. 107 (B. 85), 1923–4. Minault, Secluded Scholars, 246. Ibid., 150, 227. For her speech on the occasion of her visit to the Lucknow Muslim Girls’ School, see Baksh, Silk-i-Shahwar, 143–4. Tiwari, Report, 65 There is little available data on this institution, but descriptions were found in Mirza, Roznamchah, 32; and the personal communications of Princess Abida Sultaan, 20 October 1995. Halidé Edib, for example, was sent to the American College for Girls in Constantinople, rather than an indigenous institution. Halidé Edib, The Memoirs of Halidé Edib, London: John Murray, 1926, 190–206. See Maimoona Sultan, Silk-i-Marwarid, Bhopal: Sultania Press, 1917; Zikr-iMubarak, Bhopal: Muhammad Mahdi, 1918; and Khilafat-i-Rashidah, Bhopal: Sultania Press, 1919. Abida Sultaan, Memoirs, 8–9. Sultan Jahan to Lady Willingdon, 8 January 1920, NAI(B), BSR, no. 1 (B. 59), 1920. Hanoum, A Turkish Woman’s European Impressions, 98–100. For comparison, see Lelyveld on “growing up sharif” in Aligarh’s First Generation, 35–56.

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93 Abida Sultaan, Memoirs, 16–17. 94 This ceremony is described in a rare document by Khusrau Jahan Begam, alias Sardar Dulhan, entitled Halat-i-nashrah, Bhopal: Hamidia Press, n.d. It was translated into English as An Account of the “Nashra” Ceremony of the Princesses Abida and Sajida Sultan Sahiba of Bhopal, Bhopal: The “Bombay Chronicle” Press, 1921. Mansab in this context refers to a cash allowance for life granted by the ruler out of state funds. 95 Abida Sultaan, Memoirs, 23–7. 96 Personal communication of Princess Abida Sultaan, 29 October 1995. 97 Sultan Jahan, Account, vol. II, 153. 98 For comparison, see Lelyveld, Aligarh’s First Generation, 144. 99 Personal communication of Princess Abida Sultaan, 21 October 1995. 100 Minault, Secluded Scholars, 246. 101 Ibid., 176–7, 252. 102 Sultan Jahan, Account, vol. II, 182–3. 103 Zafar Omar, Administration Report of Bhopal State (1905–1906), Allahabad: Pioneer Press, 1906, 21. 104 For a potted biography, see “Katherine P. Johory, born Lal,” The Friend, 98 (25 October 1940), 594. 105 Administration Report of the Bhopal State for 1 October, 1913 to 30 September, 1914, Bhopal: Sultania Press, 1919, 15. For Turkish comparisons, see Jayawardena, Feminism and Nationalism, 28. 106 For comparison with Egypt, see Baron, Women’s Awakening, 126–8. 107 Addresses given at the opening ceremony of Habibia Technical School by Sultan Jahan Begam and her eldest son, Nasrullah Khan, as well as a detailed description of the institution, are contained in NAI(B), BSR, no. 8 (B. 29), 1916. 108 Sultan Jahan, Proposal for the Foundation of a Girls’ School at Delhi, 7; and “Note for Press,” as sent to the editors of the Pioneer (Allahabad) and the Times of India (Bombay) in NAI(B), BSR, no. 9 (B. 21), 1913. The Begam’s plans were also published in Urdu in the form of an article in Khatun (Aligarh), 5 (May 1912), 23–9, to which there was an overwhelmingly positive reaction from a Sultan Begam in a subsequent issue, 7 (July 1912), 37–40. 109 Lady Dane to Sultan Jahan, 6 May 1912; and Sultan Jahan to Lady Dane, 11 May 1912, NAI(B), BSR, no. 9 (B. 21), 1913. 110 Sultan Jahan to Davis, PA, 3 September 1912, in NAI(ND), GOI, FD, June 1913, nos. 137–40. 111 Sultan Jahan, Draft Scheme for a Girls’ High School at Delhi, Allahabad: Pioneer Press, 1912, 1. 112 Sultan Jahan to Davis, 27 August 1912, NAI(ND), GOI, FD, June 1913, nos. 137–40. 113 This school is still a going concern in west Delhi. For some insight into its current mission, see: www.hindu.com/thehindu/quest/200303/0621indx.htm (accessed 15 June 2005). 114 Sultan Jahan, An Account of My Life, trans. C.H. Payne, London: John Murray, 1912, 278. For comparison with Sikandar, see Chapter 1. 115 The importance of this Islamic framework may be seen in an article by one of the Begam’s relatives, Kishwar Jahan Begam, entitled “Kindness and Sympathy to Relations,” reprinted from Zil us-sultan (Bhopal) in Islamic Review (Woking), 6 (October–November 1918), 31–2. 116 Sultan Jahan, Account, vol. II, 222. 117 Sultan Jahan, Account, vol. II, 222. Similar sentiments are also found in her speeches to the Khawatin-i-Islam in Lahore and the Khawatin-i-Dakkan in Hyderabad, printed in Baksh, Silk-i-Shahwar, 98, 181.

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118 “Speech Delivered by Maimoona Begam in the Ladies’ Club” in Decennial Report, 42. 119 Report on the progress of the Asfia Technical School given by Fatima Begam, 17 September 1926, in Muhammad Amin Zuberi, Asr-i-Jadid (The New Epoch), trans. Mahmud ul-Hasan Siddiqi, Bombay: The Times of India Press, 1929, 45. 120 Administration Report of the Bhopal State for 23 March, 1908 to 22 March, 1909, Allahabad: Pioneer Press, 1910, 21. 121 See Administration Report, 1912–1913, 20; and Administration Report, 1913– 1914, 14. 122 Report on the progress of the Asfia Technical School given by Fatima Begam, 17 September 1926, in Zuberi, Asr-i-Jadid, 46–7. For comparisons in the context of Baroda, see the Maharani of Baroda and S.M. Mitra, The Position of Women in Indian Life, London, Bombay, and Calcutta: Longmans, Green & Co., 1911, 275–80. 123 Badran, Feminists, 100. 124 For comparison, see Rokeya’s “Endi Shilpa” (The Art of Endi, 1921), discussed in Hossain, “Rokeya,” 217–18; and Minault, “Purdah Politics,” 243–61. 125 “Short speech delivered by Her Highness in the Ladies’ Club” in Decennial Report, 92. 126 See cutting from the Tribune (Lahore), 16 December 1931, in IOR, CR, R/1/1/2234. 127 Sultan Jahan, Account, vol. II, 265–6. 128 The highest attendance noted was 32 pupils in 1913–14. Administration Report, 1913–1914, 15. 129 My thanks to Patricia Jeffrey for encouraging me to draw out this point. 130 Omar, Administration Report, 1904–5, 18. 131 Reports on the Bhopal (boys’) schools from the autumn months of 1903, 1904 and 1905 in NAI(ND), GOI, BPA, no. 69, 1903. 132 “Review of Her Highness of Bhopal’s 1905–06 Administration Report” by C.S. Bayley, PA, in NAI(ND), GOI, BPA, no. 100/1, 1906. 133 Administration Report, 1912–1913, 20; and Administration Report, 1913–1914, 14. 134 Liakat Husain, “Administration Report of 1923” in NAI(ND), GOI, BPA, no. 206, 1923; and Qazi Ali Haidar Abbasi, PS, Bhopal, to C.E. Luard, PA, 22 August 1923, NAI(ND), GOI, BPA, no. 7/23, 1921. 135 Bhatnagar, History, 155–6, 278, 303, 317. 136 For accounts of these activities, as well as speeches given, see Sultan Jahan, Account, vol. III, 159–61; Bhatnagar, History, 304, 319; and Sultan Jahan, “On Mahomedan Education,” 41–9. 137 “Memorandum by Her Highness the Chancellor of the Aligarh Muslim University” in IOL, Hartog Collection, MSS.Eur.E.221/32. 138 “Response of Nawab Hamidullah Khan to the address of the Muslim University Deputation” in Zuberi, Asr-i-Jadid, 1929, 62. 139 Quoted in Bhatnagar, History, 319. According to Sayyid Ahmad Khan, sharif Muslim males needed, not only a grounding in their own religion and culture, but also a thorough knowledge of European knowledge and manners, so that they could gain a respected position in the British Indian administration. So that they may receive such an education, his college was to be based on the same principles as English public schools and universities, like Cambridge. Lelyveld, Aligarh’s First Generation, 103. 140 On the Begam’s involvement in the Sultania College debacle, see my “Princes, Paramountcy and the Politics of Muslim Identity,” 179–80. For evidence of the

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141 142 143 144 145 146 147 148 149 150 151 152 153 154 155 156

Begam’s interest in princely education, see her The Higher Education of Indian Chiefs, Allahabad: The Pioneer Press, 1908; The Higher Education of Indian Chiefs – II, Allahabad: Pioneer Press, 1909; and Higher Education of the Sons of Indian Chiefs and Nobles, Bhopal: Qudsia Press, 1913. Zafar Omar, Administration Report of Bhopal State (1906–1907), Allahabad: Pioneer Press, 1907, 27; and Administration Report, 1913–1914, 13. See cutting from the Muslim Herald (Bombay), 26 January 1917, in NAI(ND), GOI, F&P, April 1917, no. 13. “Administration Report of 1920” in NAI(ND), GOI, BPA, no. 289, 1920. Lady Glover, Famous Women Rulers of India and the East, New Delhi: Deep & Deep Publications, 1989, 98. For comparison, see Baroda and Mitra, Position of Women, ch. 9. Speech to the ladies’ club quoted in Zuberi, Asr-i-Jadid, 33–4. Ibid. Sultan Jahan to Mrs Ranken, 26 October 1926, IOL, Ranken Collection, MSS. Eur.F.182. See speeches and reports quoted in Zuberi, Asr-i-Jadid, 44–8. Journal Letter no. 2 by S. Katherine Taylor, 21 February 1928, FSC/IN/4. Luard, Census of India, 1901, vol. XIX, 51; and Census of India, 1921, vol. XVIII, 59. Loose papers of the diary of Miss Fitzroy, 18 February 1923, IOL, Fitzroy Collection, MSS.Eur.E.312/11a. Ibid. Quoted in Woodsmall, Moslem Women, 164–5. Minault, Secluded Scholars, 145. For comparison, see ibid., 249. 4 VE IL I NG A ND SE C L USI ON

1 See, for instance, “English Translation of a Speech Delivered by Her Highness in Response to the Address Submitted [to] her by the Members of the Ladies’ Club, Bhopal, at a Garden Party, on the 13th of January, 1917” in Decennial Report, 105. 2 Sultan Jahan, ‘Iffat ul-Muslimat, Agra: Mufid-i-‘Amm Press, 1918; and Al-Hijab or Why Purdah is Necessary, Calcutta: Thacker, Spink and Co., 1922. 3 Minault, “Sisterhood or Separatism?” 92–3. 4 See, for instance, Zil us-sultan (Bhopal), 5:9 (February 1918), 55. 5 Hanna Papanek, “Purdah: Separate Worlds and Symbolic Shelter” in Papanek and Minault, Separate Worlds, 3–53. 6 Minault, “Purdah Politics,” 245–58. 7 Minault, Secluded Scholars, 48–9. 8 Hossain, Sultana’s Dream, 7–18, 24–36. 9 Hossain, “Rokeya,” 135. 10 Syed Ameer Ali, The Life and Teachings of Mohammed or The Spirit of Islam, London: W.H. Allen & Co. Ltd, 1891, 316–65. Interestingly, this discussion of purdah was not included in his earlier work, A Critical Examination of the Life and Teachings of Mohammed, London: Williams and Norgate, 1873, on which much of the rest of the later work was based. See Avril A. Powell, “Islamic Modernism and Women’s Status: The Influence of Syed Ameer Ali” in Powell and Lambert-Hurley, Rhetoric and Reality, 296. 11 Minault, Secluded Scholars, 84–7.

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12 Muhammad Shibli Numani, “Purdah aur Islam” in Maqalat-i-Shibli, vol. I, Azamgarh: Maarif, 1954, 103–20. This case is discussed along with other critics of Ameer Ali’s stance on purdah in Powell, “Islamic Modernism and Women’s Status,” 296–7. 13 Sultan Jahan, Al-Hijab, 1–3; and ‘Iffat ul-Muslimat, 1–3. Quotations are taken from the English version, though references to the Urdu edition are also made where appropriate. 14 Ibid., v, 2, 7. 15 Ibid., 6. 16 Ibid., iii–iv. 17 Ibid., 70. Her own references suggest that she had read his article entitled “The Influence of Women in Islam,” as published in the journal, Nineteenth Century, May 1899, 755–74. 18 Sultan Jahan, Al-Hijab, 48–106; and ‘Iffat ul-Muslimat, 41–109. 19 Ibid., 48–54. 20 Ibid., 56. 21 Ibid., 60–1. 22 Sultan Jahan, Al-Hijab, 107–21; and ‘Iffat ul-Muslimat, 110–52. 23 Ibid., 107–8. 24 Ibid., 110–18. 25 Abdullah, Riport, 2. 26 For comparison, see Minault, “Sayyid Mumtaz Ali and ‘Huquq un-Niswan,’” 160. 27 Ibid., 106. 28 Ibid., 97. 29 Ibid., 101. 30 On the centrality of these concepts to South Asian Islam, one need look no further than contemporary fiction, like Salman Rushdie’s Shame, London: Picador, 1984. 31 Sultan Jahan, Al-Hijab, 63. 32 “English Translation of a Speech Delivered by Her Highness in the Ladies’ Club, Bhopal, When Leaving India for Europe” in Decennial Report, 81–4. 33 “English Translation of a Speech Delivered by Her Highness the Nawab Begam of Bhopal, in the Ladies’ Club, on 29 January, 1912” in Decennial Report, 159. This section was also quoted in Sultan Jahan, Al-Hijab, 4. 34 Decennial Report, 159. 35 On these dichotomies, see Chatterjee, “Nationalist Resolution,” 233–53. 36 Inderpal Grewal, Home and Harem: Nation, Gender, Empire, and the Cultures of Travel, London: Leicester University Press, 1996, 227–9. 37 Kosambi, “Returning the American Gaze,” 34. 38 Atiya Fyzee, Zamana-i-Tahsil, Aligarh: Matba‘ Mufid-i-‘Am, 1922. 39 Shahnawaz, Father and Daughter, 68. For further examples, see reports of the Indian Students’ Department or the Education Department in London. 40 See, for example, her description of her journey to Bhopal, Agra, and Delhi in Roznamchah, 2–3. The introduction to this book also lists other travelogues that she had written on her journeys to Iraq, Bihar and Bengal, Poona, and Madras. Later, she also published her two-volume Safarnama-i-Yurop, Hyderabad: ‘Azim Press, 1926. For comparisons with Bengal, see Grewal, Home and Harem, 162–78. 41 Hossain, Sultana’s Dream, 27. 42 Sultan Jahan, Story of a Pilgrimage to Hijaz, 4. 43 Ibid., 266. 44 Ibid., 267.

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45 Sultan Jahan, Account, vol. III, 136. 46 “English Translation of a Speech Delivered by Her Highness in the Ladies’ Club, Bhopal, When Leaving India for Europe” in Decennial Report, 81–4. 47 Maimoona Sultan, A Trip to Europe, Bhopal, 1913, 88–95. This account was also published in its original Urdu as Siyasat-i-Sultani, Agra: Muhammad Qadir Ali Khan, n.d. 48 Ibid., 68. 49 Ibid., 160. 50 Ibid., 114–23. 51 Jayawardena, Feminism and Nationalism, 30–3. 52 Syed Abul A’la Maududi, Purdah and the Status of Women in Islam, trans. and ed. Al-Ash’ Ari, Delhi: Markazi Maktaba Islami, 1992 (reprint). This text was first published as a series of articles in Maududi’s Urdu journal, Tarjuman ul-Quran, in 1935. 53 Ibid., 66. 54 Sultan Jahan, Al-Hijab, 131. 55 Ibid., 7. 56 Ibid., 148. For comparative passages in Maududi, see Purdah, 35–64. 57 Ibid., 190–2. 58 Ibid., 47, 200. 59 Ibid., 193–8. For comparison with Maududi, see Purdah, 54–63. 60 For Muhammadi Begam’s abridged life story, see Minault, Secluded Scholars, 111–14. 61 Sultan Jahan, Account, vol. III, 201. 62 Administration Report, 1912–13, 22. This collection is now housed in Bhopal’s central library, the Maulana Azad Library, which is located in the building commissioned for the King Edward Museum. 63 Ibid., 21–2. 64 Begam Humayon Mirza, Roznamchah, 9. 65 A woefully incomplete collection of Zil us-Sultan is available in the Urdu collection at the library of the Aligarh Muslim University. For information about publication and circulation, see letters from Sayyid Iftikhar Alam, manager of Zil us-Sultan, to Mrs Davis and others in NAI(B), BSR, no. 2 (B. 56), 1915. According to the Begam’s granddaughter, Zuberi was dismissed from the Bhopal civil service shortly after the death of Sultan Jahan Begam on the basis that her successor, Hamidullah Khan, considered him to be too devoted to his previous master. It may also have been related to the scandal surrounding his publication of Maulana Shibli Numani’s letters to the Fyzee sisters, as discussed in Chapter 2. Personal communication of Princess Abida Sultaan, 29 October 1995. 66 Sultan Jahan, Account, vol. III, 26. 67 On the development of these organizations, see Dominique Godineau, “Daughters of Liberty and Revolutionary Citizens” in Geneviève Fraisse and Michelle Perrot (eds), A History of Women in the West: Emerging Feminism from Revolution to World War, Cambridge MA: Belknap Press, 1993, 19–22. 68 Baron, Women’s Awakening, 176. 69 Zaidi, Muslim Womanhood, 107. 70 Shahnawaz, Father and Daughter, 16. 71 Sultan Jahan, Account, vol. III, 26; “Decennial Report” in Decennial Report, 1–2. 72 Lady Minto’s congratulatory speech on this occasion is quoted in full in Sultan Jahan, Account, vol. III, 46, despite Lady Minto noting in her own journal that she made it up on the spot after bringing the wrong address to the gathering! Mary, Countess of Minto, India, Minto and Morley, 348.

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73 “Decennial Report” in Decennial Report, 1–2. 74 See, for instance, Sultan Jahan, Sabil ul-Jinan. 75 “Speech Delivered by Shaharyar Dulhan Begam at the Ladies’ Club” in Decennial Report, 24. 76 See Decennial Report; Baksh, Silk-i-Shahwar; and Abru Begam, Rahbar-iAkhlaq. 77 Baron, Women’s Awakening, 181. 78 “Decennial Report” in Decennial Report, 10, 165–6. 79 Ibid., 169–72. Other women who won prizes were Salma Bi, Aliya Khatun, Raunaq Zeman Begam, Kudnan Bai, Waheed Bano Sahiba and Sarla Devi. 80 Ali, Emergence, 26, 117. 81 “Decennial Report” in Decennial Report, 167–8. 82 See, for example, “5,000 Pounds for British Legion – the Begam of Bhopal’s Tribute” in The Times (London), 13 November 1925, 14b. 83 Personal communication of Princess Abida Sultaan, 24 October 1995. 84 See, for example, “The Educative Value of the Girl Guide Movement” and “The Girl Guide Movement in India” in Iqbalunnissa Husain, Changing India: A Muslim Woman Speaks, Bangalore: Hosali Press, 1940, 207–21. 85 Abdullah, Riport, 7–10. 86 A description of the opening ceremony, along with the speeches given by Maimoona Sultan and Sultan Jahan Begam, was incorporated into Decennial Report, 5, 27–9, 116–17. 87 The All India Ladies’ Art Exhibition Bhopal 1914, Bhopal: Qudsia Press, 1914, 4–13. 88 Julia Kristeva, “Women’s Time” in Toril Moi (ed.), The Kristeva Reader, Oxford: Blackwell, 1986, 193–5. 89 Ibid., 209. 90 Leila J. Rupp, Worlds of Women: The Making of an International Women’s Movement, Princeton NJ: Princeton University Press, 1997, 10–11, 60–2. 91 Proceedings, 15. 92 Sughra Humayon Mirza edited this monthly publication dedicated to social reform and creative literature between 1917 and 1927. She later edited Zebunnissa, a more wide-ranging journal with greater political content, which was published in Lahore from 1934 into the 1940s. See Minault, Secluded Scholars, 151–2, 196. 93 Copy of Resolutions, 2. 94 Mirza, Roznamchah, 3. 95 Speech by Begam Humayon Mirza on resolution nine in ibid., 14–23. Her speech is also summarized in Proceedings, 15–16. 96 See, for instance, Minault, “Sisterhood or Separatism,” 92–3. 97 Speeches of Begam Anis Hamid and Roshan Ara Begam on resolution nine in Proceedings, 16. 98 Speech of Abru Begam on resolution nine in Mirza, Roznamchah, 24; and Proceedings, 16. 99 Proceedings, 15. 100 Quoted in Mirza, Roznamchah, 24. 101 Sarojini Naidu, “Emancipation of Indian Women” in Grover and Arora, Sarojini Naidu, 98. 102 Unlike her other speeches, this address is not printed, or even mentioned, in Proceedings. It is, however, printed in the original Urdu in Silk-i-shahwar, 175–8. 103 Sultan Jahan, Hayat-i-Qudsi, 132. 104 Ibid., 98. 105 Maimoona Sultaan, Trip to Europe, 45.

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106 Personal communication of Princess Abida Sultaan, 20 October 1995. 107 Ibid. 108 For access to this film, go to: www.britishpathe.com (accessed 10 December 2003). 109 Abida Sultaan, Memoirs, 63–4; personal communication of Princess Abida Sultaan, 20–1 October 1995. 110 Abida Sultaan, Memoirs, 73. 111 Personal communication of Princess Abida Sultaan, 19 October 1995. 112 Personal communication of Princess Abida Sultaan, 20 October 1995; and Woodsmall, Moslem Women, 59. For comparisons with Egypt, see Badran, Feminists, 7–8. For comparisons with the women of Cooch Behar, see Gayatri Devi, A Princess Remembers: The Memoirs of the Maharani of Jaipur, Calcutta: Rupa & Co., 1995 (reprint), ch. 6. 113 Sultan Jahan’s presidential speech in AIWC (February 1928), 28. Extracts from this speech were also printed in Stridharma (Madras), 10 (March 1928), 71–2. 114 Journal letter no. 7 of S. Katherine Taylor, 2 July 1929, FSC/IN/5; and personal communication of Maimoona Sultan, quoted in Jacobson, “The Veil of Virtue,” 203. 115 Hossain, “Rokeya,” 135. 116 Minault, Secluded Scholars, 95. 117 Jacobson, “Hidden Faces,” 165–85; and “Veil of Virtue,” 187–212. 5 M E D I CI NE A ND M OT HE RHOOD 1 See Zil us-sultan (Bhopal), 5:9 (February 1918). 2 See, for instance, Zil us-sultan (Bhopal), 19 (April 1915), 27, 29. 3 See, for instance, Sultan Jahan Begam, Tandurusti (Health). Lahore: Union Yamam Press, 1913; and Maimoona Sultan, Hamari Rah ka Ghar, Bhopal: Sultania Press, 1921. Other speeches and writings are referred to in the course of the chapter. 4 Forbes, Women in Modern India, 161–7. 5 Sangari and Vaid, Recasting Women. 6 See, for instance, Kalpana Ram and Margaret Jolly (eds), Maternities and Modernities: Colonial and Postcolonial Experiences in Asia and the Pacific, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998. On the Indian context, see P. Jeffrey, R. Jeffrey, and A. Lyon, Labour Pains and Labour Power: Women and Childbearing in India, London: Zed Books, 1989; Geraldine Forbes, “Managing Midwifery in India” in Dagmar Engels and Shula Marks (ed.), Contesting Colonial Hegemony: State and Society in Africa and India, London: British Academic Press, 1994, 152–72; Dagmar Engels, Beyond Purdah? Women in Bengal, 1890– 1939, New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1996, ch. 4; Supriya Guha, “A History of the Medicalization of Childbirth in Bengal in the Late Nineteenth and Early Twentieth Century,” unpublished PhD Thesis, University of Calcutta, 1996; Cecilia Van Hollen, Birth on the Threshold: Childbirth and Modernity in South India, Berkeley: University of California Press, 2003; and Barbara Ramusack, “Maternal and Infant Health in Mysore and Madras” in Waltraud Ernst and Biswamoy Pati (eds), India’s Princely States, London: Routledge, forthcoming. 7 Antoinette Burton, “Contesting the Zenana: The Mission to Make ‘Lady Doctors for India,’ 1874–85,” Journal of British Studies, 35:3 (July 1996), 368–97; Rosemary Fitzgerald, “‘Making and Moulding the Nursing of the Indian Empire’: Recasting Nurses in Colonial India” in Powell and Lambert-Hurley, Rhetoric and Reality, 185–222; and Van Hollen, Birth on the Threshold, 40.

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8 Michel Foucault, Discipline and Punish: The Birth of the Prison, trans. A. Sheridan, New York: Vintage Books, 1979. In the Indian context, see David Arnold, Colonizing the Body: State Medicine and Epidemic Disease in NineteenthCentury India, Berkeley: University of California Press, 1993. 9 See my “Embassy of Equality?” 10 Van Hollen, Birth on the Threshold, 53. Also see Maneesha Lal, “The Politics of Gender and Medicine in Colonial India: The Countess of Dufferin’s Fund, 1885– 88,” Bulletin of the History of Medicine, 68:1 (1994), 29–66. 11 Forbes, “Managing Midwifery,” 159. 12 Van Hollen, Birth on the Threshold, 37, 55. On sati, see Lata Mani, Contentious Traditions: The Debate on Sati in Colonial India, Berkeley: University of California Press, 1998. 13 “Annual Report of the Dufferin Fund, 1905,” cited in Zafar Omar, Administration Report, 1905–06, 19. For comparison with Indore and Gwalior, see Imperial Gazetteer of India: Central India, Calcutta: Superintendent Government Printing, 1908, 74. 14 Ibid. 15 Administration Report of the Bhopal State for 23 March, 1907 to 22 March, 1908, Allahabad: Pioneer Press, 1908, 21. 16 Arnold, Colonizing the Body, 43–58. 17 Sultan Jahan, Account, vol. II, 142. 18 Ibid., 143. For comparison with the efforts of Hakim Ajmal Khan, see Metcalf, “Nationalist Muslims,” 120–50. 19 “Copy of remarks made by the Administrative Medical Officer in Central India [V. Harrington],” NAI(ND), GOI, BPA, no. 12, 1905. 20 Sultan Jahan, Account, vol. II, 141–6. 21 Ibid., 147. 22 C.B. McConaghy, Agency Surgeon, to Haidar Abbasi, PS, 24 October 1921; and Abbasi to McConaghy, 25 October 1921, NAI(B), BSR, no. 11 (B. 72), 1921. 23 See, for example, Administration Report, 1912–1913, 19. In that year, over 300,000 patients were treated in yunani dispensaries, as compared to just over 100,000 patients in European-style hospitals. 24 “Administration Report of 1920” in NAI(ND), GOI, BPA, no. 289, 1920. 25 For the significance of yunani tibb to these wider debates, see Metcalf, “Nationalist Muslims.” 26 See Abru Begam’s introductory article on welfare work for women and children in Bhopal in Rahbar-i-Sehat (Guidance on Health), Bhopal: Hamidia Art Press, 1922, 3. 27 Liakat Husain. “Administration Report of 1923” in NAI(ND), GOI, BPA, no. 206, 1923. 28 “Report of Dr Dagmar Curjel on Work of Victoria Memorial Scholarship Fund in Bhopal, 31 October, 1919” in NAI(B), BSR, no. 24 (B. 82), 1922; and Abru Begam, Rahbar-i-Sehat, 2–3. 29 Attewell, “Authority, Knowledge and Practice,” ch. 5. 30 Neshat Quaiser, “Politics, Culture and Colonialism: Unani’s Debate with Doctory” in Biswamoy Pati and Mark Harrison (eds), Health, Medicine and Empire: Perspectives on Colonial India, London: Sangam Books, 2001, 321. 31 Sultan Jahan, Account, vol. II, 142–3; and condolence address in AIWC (February 1928), 32. 32 Sultan Jahan, Account, vol. II, 142; and Quaiser, “Politics, Culture and Colonialism,” 320. 33 Sultan Jahan, Account, vol. III, 22–3. For comparison with British and American

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34 35 36 37 38 39 40

41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59

women’s efforts to promote nursing in colonial India, see Fitzgerald, “Making and Moulding.” McConaghy to Sultan Jahan, 29 October 1924, NAI(B), BSR, no. 53 (B. 100), 1924–5. For comparisons with British India, see Woodsmall, Moslem Women, 309. Sultan Jahan, Account, vol. III, 23–5. Thirtieth Annual Report of the National Association for Supplying Female Medical Aid to the Women of India for the Year 1914, Delhi: Superintendent Government Printing, 1915, 109–10. See correspondence in NAI(B), BSR, no. 2 (B. 34), 1917. Thirtieth Annual Report, 109–10. For comparison with British India, see Forbes, “Managing Midwifery,” 171. Engels, Beyond Purdah, 148. The methods employed in training classes in Bhopal are discussed most comprehensively in A. Lankaster, Agency Surgeon, to Abdul Raoof, PS, 16 February 1917; “Qasba Dais”; and “Scheme for the Control of Maternity Nurses, Sehore Cantt” in NAI(B), BSR, no. 2 (B. 34), 1917. See, for example, Thirty Third Annual Report of the National Association for Supplying Female Medical Aid to the Women of India for the Year 1917, Delhi: Superintendent Government Printing, 1918, 74. “Report of Dr Dagmar Curjel” in NAI(B), BSR. no. 24 (B. 82), 1922. Speech of H.H. Nawab Sultan Jahan Begam of Bhopal at the Maternity & Child Welfare Exhibition held at Delhi on the 23rd February 1920, Bhopal: Sultania Press, 1920, 6. Forbes, “Managing Midwifery,” 163–8. Speech by Princess Maimoona Sultan Shah Bano Begam at the Maternity & Child Welfare Exhibition held at Delhi on the 23rd February 1920, Bombay: The Guru Datt Printing Works, 1920, 1–2. Bismillah Khanam’s lecture on the precautions to be observed in houses, both rich and poor, before and after a childbirth in Abru Begam, Rahbar-i-Sehat, 53. Van Hollen, Birth on the Threshold, 50. Speech by Princess Maimoona Sultan, 2–3. Maimoona Sultan, “An Appeal to Indian Ladies” in Keep the Baby Well, Calcutta: Superintendent Government Printing, 1920, 48. Bismillah Khanam’s lecture in Abru Begam, Rahbar-i-Sehat, 54. Speech of H.H. Nawab Sultan Jahan Begam, 7. Van Hollen, Birth on the Threshold, 49–51. Margaret Jolly, “Introduction: Colonial and Postcolonial Plots in Histories of Maternities and Modernities” in Ram and Jolly, Maternities and Modernities, 9. Anna Davin, “Imperialism and Motherhood,” History Workshop Journal, 5 (1978), 43. Forbes, “Managing Midwifery,” esp. 172. Also see David Arnold, “Public Health and Public Power: Medicine and Hegemony in Colonial India” in Engels and Marks, Contesting Colonial Hegemony, 131–51. “School for Mothers,” attached to a letter from Sultan Jahan Begam to Lady Reading, 6 October 1921, NAI(B), BSR, no. 5 (B. 72), 1921. For comparison with projects in the West, see Van Hollen, Birth on the Threshold, 51. “Decennial Report” in Decennial Report, 13–14. See Regulations for the Formation of Male or Female Classes in Connection with Centres: With the Syllabus of the Various Courses of Instruction, Simla: Indian Headquarters of the St John’s Ambulance Association, 1917. Woodsmall, Moslem Women, 307.

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60 “Report of Dr Dagmar Curjel” in NAI(B), BSR, no. 24 (B. 82), 1922. 61 Woodsmall, Moslem Women, 306–7. 62 McConaghy to Sultan Jahan, 29 October 1924, NAI(B), BSR, no. 53 (B. 100), 1924–5. 63 Sultan Jahan, “The Duty Owed By Educated Indian Women to Their Countrywomen” in Keep the Baby Well, 14. 64 Speech by Princess Maimoona Sultan, 8. 65 Cited in Van Hollen, Birth on the Threshold, 51. 66 For an outline of events, see the programme of the Maternity and Child Welfare Exhibition, the handbook of the Exhibition, and invites to various “At Homes” in NAI(B), BSR, no. 12 (B. 59), 1920. 67 See, for instance, correspondence in ibid. 68 See correspondence and her manuscript entitled “Message to the people of India” in NAI(B) BSR, no. 51 (B. 75), 1922; NAI(B) BSR, no. 149 (B. 93), 1923–4; NAI(B), no. 116 (B. 101), 1924–5; and NAI(B), BSR, no. 110 (B. 110), 1924–5. 69 Mrs Bashirullah Khan’s lecture on the precautions to be taken when a mother is breastfeeding and Mehmooda Begam’s lecture on the reasons for children’s diseases in Abru Begam, Rahbar-i-Sehat, 70–97. 70 Bismillah Khanam’s lecture in Abru Begam, Rahbar-i-Sehat, 59–60. 71 “Decennial Report,” 169–72. 72 Mehrunnisa’s lecture on the principles to be followed for the protection of health in poor Hindustani homes in Abru Begam, Rahbar-i-Sehat, 44, 60. 73 Bismillah Khanam’s lecture in Abru Begam, Rahbar-i-Sehat, 51–2. 74 See, for instance, J. Lewis, The Politics of Motherhood: Child and Maternal Welfare in England, 1900–1939, London: Croom Helm, 1980. 75 Sultan Jahan to Lady Reading, 11 October 1923, NAI(B), BSR, no. 149 (B. 93), 1923–4. 76 “Report on the Baby Week in Bhopal State held during the month of January, 1924” in ibid. For comparison with Bengal, see Shudha Mazumdar, A Pattern of Life: The Memoirs of an Indian Woman, trans. and ed. Geraldine Forbes, New Delhi: Manohar Book Service, 1979, 175. 77 David Arnold, Science, Technology and Medicine in Colonial India, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000, 81. 78 Attewell, “Authority, Knowledge and Practice,” ch. 5. 79 This phrase is borrowed from Ira Klein, “Death in India, 1871–1921,” Journal of Asian Studies, 32:4 (1973), 639–59. 80 See, for instance, Mark Harrison, Public Health in British India: Anglo-India Preventive Medicine 1859–1914, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994. 81 Sultan Jahan, Account, vol. II, 108. 82 Plague in Bhopal, Bombay: Thacker & Co., 1907, 2–11. Also see Sultan Jahan, Account, vol. II, 106–12; and Omar, Administration Report, 1905–6, 19. For comparison with British India, see Arnold, Colonizing the Body, 200–39; Ian Catanach, “Who are your leaders? Plague, the Raj and the ‘Communities’ in Bombay, 1896–1901” in Peter Robb (ed.), Society and Ideology, Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1993, 196–221; and Mridula Ramanna, “Indian Response to Western Medicine: Vaccination in the City of Bombay in the Nineteenth Century” in A.J. Qaisar and S.P. Verma (eds), Art and Culture: Endeavours in Interpretation, Delhi: Abhinav Publications, 1996, 67–78. 83 Arnold, Science, Technology and Medicine, 74. 84 “English translation of a short speech delivered by Her Highness in the Ladies’ Club, Bhopal” in Decennial Report, 88.

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85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111

112

“Maimoona Sultan’s Second Lecture on Hygiene” in Decennial Report, 63. Ibid., 65 Ibid., 62–4. “Maimoona Sultan’s First Lecture on Hygiene” in Decennial Report, 58–60. “Maimoona Sultan’s Second Lecture,” 65. Maimoona Sultan, Trip to Europe, 39, 43, 71–2. Aligarh Institute Gazette (Aligarh), 19 November 1869, quoted in Rehmani Begam, Sir Syed Ahmed Khan: The Politics of an Educationalist, Lahore Vanguard Books, 1985, 146. “Maimoona Sultan’s First Lecture,” 57 Ibid., 60. For a discussion of Khutabat-i-Ahmadiya, see K.A. Nizami, Sayyid Ahmad Khan, New Delhi: Government of India, 1980 (reprint), 119ff. Attewell, “Authority, Knowledge and Practice,” ch. 5. Metcalf, Perfecting Women, 7–9 See, for instance, “Maimoona Sultan’s First Lecture,” 58–9. Sultan Jahan, Hifz-i-sehat, Bhopal: Sultania Press, 1916. Attewell, “Authority, Knowledge and Practice,” ch. 5. Sultan Jahan, Hifz-i-sehat, 1. For a discussion of this work, see Attewell, “Authority, Knowledge and Practice,” ch. 5. Mehrunnisa’s lecture in Abru Begam, Rahbar-i-Sehat, 60–9. “English translation of a short speech delivered by Her Highness in the Ladies’ Club, Bhopal” in Decennial Report, 88–91. Speeches of Mrs Jamshedji, Fatima Begam, and Begam Rashida Latif on resolutions five and seven in Proceedings, 12–14. See Sultan Jahan, “Duty Owed By Educated Indian Women” in Keep the Baby Well, 14. Speech of H.H. Nawab Sultan Jahan Begam, esp. 2, 8. Lady Reading to family in England, 22 February 1923, IOL, Lady Reading Collection, MSS.Eur.E.316/3/#8; and loose papers of the diary of Miss Fitzroy, 19 February 1923, IOL, Fitzroy Collection, MSS.Eur.E.318/8. Woodsmall, Moslem Women, 304; and Forty Fifth Annual Report of the National Association for Supplying Female Medical Aid to the Women of India for the year 1929, Delhi: Superintendent Government Printing, 1930, 68. Journal Letter no. 2 of S. Katherine Taylor in Bhopal, 21 February 1928, FSC/ IN/4. Woodsmall, Moslem Women, 305; and diary of Sir Harcourt Butler while on tour with the Indian States’ Commission, Bhopal, 26 March 1926, IOL, Butler Collection, MSS.Eur.F.116/108. See Gyan Prakash, Another Reason: Science and the Imagination of Modern India, Princeton NJ: Princeton University Press, 1999. For a development of this point, see Avril A. Powell and Siobhan Lambert-Hurley, “Introduction: Problematizing Discourse and Practice” in Powell and Lambert-Hurley, Rhetoric and Reality, 10–12. Sultan Jahan, Account, vol. III, 26. 6 R I GHT S A ND DUT I E S

1 Sultan Jahan, Sabil ul-Jinan. 2 Sultan Jahan, Islam main ‘Aurat ka Martaba, Bhopal: Hamidia Art Press, 1922. See also Decennial Report, 172–88.

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3 Sultan Jahan, Hadiyat ul-Zaujain, Madras: Weekly Newspaper Press, 1917; Muslim Home Part I: Present to the Married Couple, Calcutta: Thacker, Spink & Co., 1916; “Polygamy,” Islamic Review (Woking), 4 (May 1916), 211–15; and “Relative Position of Man and Woman in Islam,” Islamic Review (Woking), 4 (July 1916), 300–5. 4 See, for instance, Zil us-sultan (Bhopal), 19 (April 1915), 38–9; 5:9 (February 1918), 1–10, 63; and 12:9 (1928), 63. 5 Mahua Sarkar, “Muslim Women and the Politics of (In)visibility in Late Colonial Bengal,” Journal of Historical Sociology, 14:2 (2001), 226–7. 6 See, for example, Forbes, Women in Modern India, 64–91; “From Purdah to Politics: The Social Feminism of the All-India Women’s Organizations” in Minault and Papanek, Separate Worlds, 219–42; and “The Indian Women’s Movement: A Struggle for Women’s Rights or National Liberation?” in Minault, The Extended Family, 49–82. Also see Aparna Basu and Bharati Ray, Women’s Struggle: A History of the All-India Women’s Conference 1927–1990, New Delhi: Manohar, 1990. 7 See, for instance, Minault, Secluded Scholars, 298–306. 8 See, for instance, Ali, Emergence, chs 4–5. 9 James Mill, The History of British India, 2 vols, New York: Chelsea House, 1968 (reprint), 309–10. 10 Forbes, Women in Modern India, 17. 11 Syed Ameer Ali, A Critical Examination of the Life and Teachings of Mohammed, London: Williams and Norgate, 1873. For a discussion of the relationship between this text and The Spirit of Islam, and their content as it related to women’s rights, see Powell, “Islamic Modernism and Women’s Status,” 282–317. 12 Minault, Secluded Scholars, 72–84. 13 For a discussion of this book, see M. Mujeeb, The Indian Muslims, London: George Allen & Unwin Ltd, 197, 410–13. 14 Sultan Jahan, Sabil ul-Jinan, vi. 15 Hossain, “Rokeya,” 80–2. 16 Sultan Jahan, Islam main ‘Aurat ka Martaba, 1–10. 17 Veena Oldenburg has explored how female infanticide was a key justification in terms of the East India Company’s “civilizing mission” in Dowry Murder, ch. 2. On the centrality of polygamy to colonial critiques of Islam, especially as they came from missionary actors, see my “An Embassy of Equality?,” 265. 18 See, for instance, Sultan Jahan, Muslim Home, 18–22. 19 Ibid., 22–5. 20 Philipp, “Feminism and Nationalist Politics in Egypt,” 283; and Edib, Memoirs, 142–6, 308. 21 Shahnawaz, Father and Daughter, 47–8. 22 Minault, Secluded Scholars, 289–90. 23 Minault, “‘Ismat,” 135–6. 24 Decennial Report, 172–8. 25 Badran, Feminists, 66; and Hossain, “Rokeya,” 86. 26 It was translated in her English works in the following way: “Verily, the Moslem men and women, and the faithful men and women, and the devout men and women, and the truthful men and women, and the patient men and women, and the humble men and women, and the charitable men and women, and the fasting men and women, and the men and women who preserve their modesty, and the men and women who remember God much – God has prepared for them pardon and a great reward.” Sultan Jahan, “Relative Position,” 301. 27 Sultan Jahan Begam made this point regarding the equal, but complementary,

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45 46 47 48 49

50 51 52 53 54 55 56

nature of the sexes in several speeches, including that quoted in Decennial Report, 184; and Islam main ‘Aurat ka Martaba, 10. It is developed most comprehensively, however, in her Muslim Home, 1–5. Sultan Jahan, Muslim Home, 27–31, 34, 66; and Decennial Report, 179–80. Sultan Jahan, Muslim Home, i. For comparison, see Ameer Ali’s Spirit of Islam and Khwaja Kamaluddin’s The Ideal Prophet. Sultan Jahan, Khanadari, Bhopal: Sultania Press, 1916; and Faraiz un-Nisa, Bhopal: Sultania Press, 1921. For a discussion of comparable examples in the Egyptian context, see Baron, Women’s Awakening, 140–1. “English Translation of a Speech Delivered by Maimoona Sultan Begam in the Ladies’ Club” in Decennial Report, 32–4. Sultan Jahan, Account, vol. I, 57. Speech of Begam Khadiv Jang on resolution 10 in Proceedings, 17. Supplements to the Resolutions, Bhopal: Sultania Press, 1918, 1. Sultan Jahan, Muslim Home, 14. Sultan Jahan, Account, vol. II, 225. Ibid. Speech of Miss M.E. Elton on resolution ten in Proceedings, 17. For comparison with Ranade, see Forbes, Women in Modern India, 25–6. Abida Sultaan, Memoirs, 56–7. Badran, Feminists, 95–6. AIWC (February 1928), 75–9. Ibid., 71–3. See Mohamed Ali’s “Muslims and the Sarda Act” in Afzal Iqbal (comp. and ed.), Select Writings and Speeches of Maulana Mohamed Ali, vol. II, Lahore: Sh. Muhammad Ashraf, 1963, 321–43. A useful summary of the debate over child marriage, including between male and female Muslim leaders, is available in Geraldine Forbes, “Women and Modernity: The Issue of Child Marriage in India,” Women’s Studies International Quarterly, 2:4 (1979), 407–19. Minault, “Sisterhood or Separatism?,” 101. Sultan Jahan, Muslim Home, 46–62. Sultan Jahan to the Nawab of Rampur, 19 August 1922, NAI(B), BSR, no. 10 (B. 76), 1922. Sultan Jahan to the Nawab of Jaora, 18 October 1923, NAI(B), BSR, no. 57 (B. 84), 1922. “Speech Delivered by Her Highness on the Various Customs and Ceremonies Connected with Marriages and Deaths” in Decennial Report, 70–5. Also see resolution six passed at the inaugural meeting of the All-India Ladies’ Association held in Bhopal in 1918 in Copy of Resolutions, 1. For a development of this point, see Gail Minault, “Other Voices, Other Rooms: The View from the Zenana” in Nita Kumar (ed.), Women as Subjects, Charlottesville: University Press of Virginia, 1994, 114. For a discussion of these regional anjumans, see Minault, Secluded Scholars, 175– 87. On the early activities of the MEC, see Khan, All India Muslim Educational Conference. Forbes, Women in Modern India, 65–8. “The Proposed Mahomedan Ladies’ Conference,” The Indian Social Reformer (Bombay), 15 (16 July 1905), 554. Minault, “Shaikh Abdullah,” 219–20. “Decennial Report” in Decennial Report, 1–2.

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57 See “English Translation of a Speech Delivered by Her Highness in a Meeting Held to Raise Subscriptions for the Indian Relief Fund” in Decennial Report, 112–15; and Sultan Jahan, Account, vol. III, 235–6. 58 “English Translation of a Speech Delivered by Her Highness at a Meeting Held In Connection with the Muslim University in the Ladies’ Club, Bhopal” in Decennial Report, 150–4. On the background to this movement, see Gail Minault and David Lelyveld, “The Campaign for a Muslim University,” Modern Asian Studies, 8:2 (1974), 145–89. 59 Maimoona Sultan to Revd. James Black, HS, Red Cross Society, 2 June 1919, NAI(B), BSR, no. 37 (B. 55), 1919. For the Turkish comparison, see Edib, Memoirs, 334–5. 60 “Decennial Report” in Decennial Report, 4. 61 Decennial Report, 171–2. 62 Ibid., 18. 63 Both Sultan Jahan and Maimoona Sultan eulogized her visit in speeches at the club after her death. See Decennial Report, 67–9, 110–11. 64 Sha‘rawi, Huda, Harem Years: The Memoirs of an Egyptian Feminist, trans., ed. and intro. Margot Badran, London: Virago Press, 1986, 78, 82. 65 “Decennial Report” in Decennial Report, 9–10. 66 Sultan Jahan, Account, vol. III, 114–17. 67 AIWC (February 1928), 73. 68 Meera Kosambi, “Returning the American Gaze,” 31. 69 See, for example, “Education of Indian Women,” Sarojini Naidu’s lecture at the 1906 Indian Social Conference in Calcutta, printed in Grover and Arora, Sarojini Naidu, 158. 70 Sultan Jahan, Account, vol. III, 160. 71 For the activities of Sarala Devi Chaudhurani and the Bharat Stree Mahamandal, see Forbes, Women in Modern India, 70–2, 94, 142–3. 72 Sultan Jahan, Account, vol. III, 105. 73 For a summary of Begam Qudsia Aizaz Rasul’s activities, see her autobiography, From Purdah to Parliament, Delhi: Ajanta, 2001. 74 Speech by Sultan Jahan Begam to the Khawatin-i-Islam in Lahore, 10 March 1913, in Baksh, Silk-i-Shahwar, 95–100. For evidence of her patronage of other local purdah clubs, see speeches and reports in Account, vol. III, 233; Silk-iShahwar, 143–6; and NAI(B), BSR, no. 23 (B. 71), 1921. 75 Minault, “Purdah Politics,” 249–50. 76 Abdullah, Riport, 30–31. 77 Resolutions of the ladies’ conference in Abdullah, Riport, 31–2. 78 For comparisons with the Egyptian and Ottoman Turkish context, see Edib, Memoirs, 334; and Badran, Feminists, 55. 79 Minault has made a more sustained comparison in “Sisterhood or Separatism?” 80 Sultan Jahan to W.S. Davis, PA, 30 October 1914, NAI(ND), GOI, F&P, October 1916, nos 13–34. 81 Minault, Secluded Scholars, 290–3. 82 See, for instance, resolution nine at the 1915 conference in Aligarh, as moved by Begam Abdullah, in Dulhan, Riport, 49–50. 83 The Anjuman’s decline is discussed in more detail in Minault, “Sisterhood or Separatism?,” 96–103. 84 Proceedings, 2–3. 85 Ibid., 1. 86 A Scheme for Establishing an “Indian Ladies’ Association” at Bhopal, Bhopal: Qudsia Press, 1916, 1–2.

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87 Sultan Jahan Begam’s presidential speech was printed in the original Urdu in Silk-i-shahwar, 162–74. It is translated into English in Islamic Review (Woking), 6 (October–November 1918), 363–6; and Proceedings, 4–8. 88 Proceedings, 5. 89 Ibid., 5–7. 90 Speech of Abru Begam on resolution eight in Proceedings, 14–15. 91 Speech of Fatima Arzu Begam on resolution 12 in Proceedings, 17–18. 92 The Rules of the All-India Ladies’ Conference, Bhopal: 1919; and Stridharma (Madras), 1 (July 1920), 151. 93 Mrinalini Sinha, “The Lineage of the ‘Indian’ Modern: Rhetoric, Agency, and the Sarda Act in Late Colonial India” in Antoinette Burton (ed.), Gender, Sexuality, and Colonial Modernities, London: Routledge, 1999, 207–21. 94 Rules, 5. 95 Mirza, Roznamchah, 26. 96 Margaret E. Cousins, HS, WIA, to Sultan Jahan, 27 February 1921, NAI(B), BSR, no. 36 (B. 71), 1921. 97 Hilla Rustomji Faridoonji to Sultan Jahan, 19 August 1924; Qazi Ali Haidar Abbasi to Faridoonji, 26 August 1924; Faridoonji to Haidar Abbasi, 19 October 1924; Haidar Abbasi to Faridoonji, 20 October 1924, NAI(B), BSR, no. 189 (B. 93), 1923–4. Hilla Rustomji Faridoonji became a leading member of both the NCWI and the AIWC, serving on the women’s franchise committee to the second round-table conference in 1931, before being elected as president of the AIWC in 1934. She was also the co-founder of the Lady Irwin College for Home Science, Educational and Psychological Research and Training Teachers, established in Delhi in 1932. Basu and Ray, Women’s Struggle, 21, 56, 72. 98 Cornelia Sorabji to Sultan Jahan, 1 September 1925, NAI(B), NSR no. 91 (B. 108), 1926. 99 Forbes, Women in Modern India, 76–8. 100 Basu and Ray, Women’s Struggle, 188. 101 AIWC (February 1928), 25. 102 Forbes, Women in Modern India, 80. 103 Sarkar, “Muslim Women,” esp. 241. 104 AIWC (February 1928), 31. 105 Shahnawaz, Father and Daughter, 94. 106 AIWC (February 1928), 71. 107 See Basu and Ray, Women’s Struggle, ch. 7. 108 See annual reports for the AIWC as held in Patna in 1929, Bombay in 1930 and after. 109 See, for example, the presidential speech of Hilla Rustomji Faridoonji as given at the AIWC in Karachi (December 1934). 110 Shahnawaz, Father and Daughter, 15–16. 111 Sheila Rowbotham, A Century of Women: The History of Women in Britain and the United States, London: Viking, 1997, esp. 67–79. 112 Hanoum, A Turkish Woman’s European Impressions, 190. I refer to her by this title on the basis that, as a young woman in Turkey, she and her sister, Melek, were the subjects of a book by this title that highlighted the desire of secluded Turkish women for solid education, freedom and the abandonment of the veil. See Pierre Loti, Les Désenchantées: Roman des Harem Turcs Contemporains, Paris: Calmann-Lévy, 1906. 113 Jayawardena, Feminism and Nationalism, 37–8. 114 Mangol Bayat-Philipp, “Women and Revolution in Iran, 1905–11” in Beck and Keddie, Women in the Muslim World, 301.

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115 Stridharma (Madras), 1 (February 1918), 16. 116 Badran, Feminists, 209. 117 Sarojini Naidu, “Equality of the Sexes” in Grover and Arora, Sarojini Naidu, 58–9. 118 For a more comprehensive discussion of this campaign, see Geraldine Forbes, “Votes for Women: The Demand for Women’s Franchise in India, 1917–37” in Vina Mazundar (ed.), Symbols of Power: Studies in the Political Status of Women in India, Bombay: Allied, 1979, 3–23. 119 See letters to Lord Southborough, chairman of the Indian Electoral Franchise Committee, from the India Women’s Education Association and others, 12 December 1918, and from Mrs Constance Mary Villiers-Stuart, 17 December 1918, in NAI(B), BSR, no. 95 (B. 60), 1920. 120 Quoted in Bob Whitfield, The Extension of the Franchise, 1832–1931, London: Heineman, 2001, 142. 121 For the composition of the anti-suffrage movement in Britain, see Brian Harrison, Separate Spheres: The Opposition to Women’s Suffrage in Britain, London: Croom Helm Ltd, 1978, ch. 2. 122 Sultan Jahan to Mrs Villiers-Stuart, 10 April 1919, NAI(B), BSR, no. 95 (B. 60), 1920. 123 Harrison, Separate Spheres. 124 “Speech Delivered by Her Highness at a Garden Party” in Decennial Report, 107. 125 Proceedings of the Conference of Ruling Princes, 1916, 38. For the background to this event, see Ramusack, Princes, 65–7. 126 Sultan Jahan to Lord Southborough, 10 April 1919, NAI(B), BSR, no. 95 (B. 60), 1920. 127 Stridharma (Madras), 1 (July 1919), 92. 128 Sarojini Naidu, “A Plea for the Franchise of Indian Women: To the Members of the Joint Parliamentary Committee of Indian Reform,” Stridharma, 1:9 (January 1920), 124. 129 Forbes, “Votes for Women,” 3–23. 130 Chrystal Macmillan to Sultan Jahan, 1 March 1922, NAI(B), BSR, no. 47 (B. 75), 1922. 131 Qazi Ali Haidar Abbasi to Chrystal Macmillan, 15 April 1922, NAI(B), BSR, no. 47 (B. 75), 1922. 132 “Female Suffrage in Mysore,” newspaper extract for 26 March 1924 in IOR, Information Dept, L/1/2/5. 133 Abida Sultaan, “The Begums of Bhopal” in History Today, 30 (October 1980), 35. For comparison, see Minault, Secluded Scholars, 51. 134 Sultan Jahan, Hayat-i-Qudsi, 98–101. On these figures, see Mernissi, Forgotten Queens. 135 See Ameer Ali. “The Influence of Women in Islam,” reprinted from The Nineteenth Century (May 1899) in K.K. Aziz, Ameer Ali: His Life and Work, Lahore: Publishers United Ltd., 1968, 172–6. 136 Marilyn Booth, May her Likes Be Multiplied: Biography and Gender Politics in Egypt, Berkeley: University of California Press, 2001, 165, 172. 137 Sultan Jahan, Hayat-i-Qudsi, 102. 138 Note by K.S. Fitze, 20 April 1926; and Glancy, AGG, to Thompson, Pol. Sec., 11 December 1926, IOR, CR, R/1/1/1502. 139 Quoted in Bhopal State: Its Ruler and Method of Administration, Bombay: Times of India Press, n.d. 140 Chatterjee, “Nationalist Resolution,” 233–53.

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141 Forbes, Women in Modern India, 199. On this issue, also see Barbara N. Ramusack, “Embattled Advocates: The Debate Over Birth Control in India, 1920–40,” Journal of Women’s History 1:2 (Fall 1989), pp. 34–64. 142 Ali, Emergence, ch. 6. 143 On these legal reforms, see Minault, Secluded Scholars, 298–306. 144 On Muslim women’s rights in independent India, see Shahida Lateef, Muslim Women in India: Political and Private Realities, London: Zed Books, 1990. 145 Sultan Jahan, Muslim Married Couple, Award, 1980. See, for instance: www.online-Islamic-store.com (accessed 1 July 2005). 7 C ONC L USI ONS 1 Minault, Voices of Silence, 150. 2 Ibid., 14, 146, 148–9. 3 I make this point in opposition to Gayatri Spivak’s assertion that the South Asian woman has no real “voice,” being that it is so thoroughly constrained by patriarchal modes of thought and discussion, but in line with Deniz Kandiyoti’s approach that, even within those cultural constraints, women find ways of “negotiating” with entrenched gender ideologies. See Gayatri Spivak, “Subaltern Studies: Deconstructing Historiography” in Ranajit Guha (ed.), Subaltern Studies: Writings on South Asian History and Society IV, New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1985, 330–63; and Deniz Kandiyoti. “Bargaining with Patriarchy,” Gender and Society, 2 (1988), 274–98. 4 This point has been developed in my “Fostering Sisterhood,” 58–9. 5 On Hamidullah’s activities following his mother’s death, see Ali, Bhopal, 91–135; Mittal, History, chs 3–6; and Ian Copland, “The Qaid-i-Azam and the NawabChancellor: Literary Paradigms in the Historical Construction of Indian Muslim Identity” in Mushirul Hasan (ed.), Islam, Communities and the Nation: Muslim Identities in South Asia and Beyond, New Delhi: Manohar, 1998. 6 Personal communication of Princess Abida Sultaan, 21 October 1995. 7 Francis Robinson, “Congress Muslims and Indian Nationalism” in his Islam and Muslim History, 278. 8 Zaidi, Muslim Womanhood, 111–12; Ali, Bhopal, 135–40; personal communications of Rabia Sultaan, 31 October, 11 November, and 27 November 1996; personal communications of Shaharyar M. Khan, 4 June 1996; and Allen and Dwivedi, Lives of the Indian Princes, 333–5. 9 Quoted in Zuberi, Asr-i-Jadid, 38. 10 On Shaharyar Mian’s “early education,” see Abida Sultaan, Memoirs, 142–53. 11 This short biographical account is based primarily on the personal communications of Princess Abida Sultaan, 20–9 October 1995, as well as her Memoirs, chs 3–8. Other sources include: Moni Mohsin, “Princess Abida Sultaan: A Princess Remembers,” The Friday Times, 13–19 May 1993, 24; Andaleeb Nadeem, “A Princess Who Sacrificed Everything,” The Pakistan Times, 1 July 1993; Sher Ali Pataudi, The Elite Minority Princes of India, Lahore: Syed Mobin Mahmud & Co., 1989, 165–9, 190–2; Zuhra Karim, “Princess Abida Sultaan,” She, October 1984, 2–5; personal communications of Shaharyar M. Khan, 4 June 1996; Rosita Forbes, India and the Princes, London: The Travel Book Club, 1939, 291–2; and Muhammad Amin Zuberi, ‘Aurat aur ‘Askarit, Hyderabad: Azim Steam Press, n.d. For examples of her dissident writings, see Princess Abida Sultaan of Bhopal, “The Genesis of Pakistan,” Dawn (Karachi), Independence Day Supplement, 14 August 1984; “Women’s Status,” Dawn, 2 January 1989; “On Women Being Head of State,” Dawn, 21 March 1989; “Status of Women,” Dawn, 28 April 1989;

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“If I were King,” Dawn, 31 August 1993; and Hakumat-i-Rabani Quran ki Rabani, Karachi, n.d. 12 Abida Sultaan, Memoirs, 105–6. 13 See files and correspondence on the administration of these trusts in IOR, CR, R/1/1/2866 and R/1/1/3018. 14 There are, for instance, only very few mentions of her contributions in the official history of the All-India Women’s Conference (see Basu and Ray, Women’s Struggle), while, at Aligarh, her picture does not appear in the gallery of notables, despite her being the first chancellor of the institution.

225

BIBLIOGRAPHY

I Private papers British Library, London Butler Collection (Papers of Sir Harcourt Butler, Governor of the United Provinces, 1921–2, and Governor of Burma, 1923–7), MSS.Eur.F.116. Chelmsford Collection (Papers of the 1st Viscount Chelmsford, Viceroy of India, 1916–21), MSS.Eur.E.264. Davis Collection (Memoirs of W.S. Davis, Political Agent, Bhopal, 1912–20), Photo. Eur.291. Fitzroy Collection (Papers of Yvonne Alice Gertrude Fitzroy, Private Secretary to Lady Reading, 1921–5), MSS.Eur.E.312. Hartog Collection (Papers of Sir Phillip Hartog, Chairman of the Education Committee of the Indian Statutory Commission, 1928–9), MSS.Eur.E.221. Lady Reading Collection (Letters, dated 1921–5, from Alice, Marchionesss of Reading, Vicereine, 1921–6), MSS.Eur.E.316. Morley Collection (Papers of Viscount Morley, Secretary of State for India, 1905–10 and 1911), MSS.Eur.D.573. Ranken Collection (Papers, dated 1875–1930, of Colonel George Patrick Ranken, including letters to Mrs Ranken, dated 1906–29), MSS.Eur.F.182. University Library, Cambridge Papers of Lord Hardinge of Penshurst, Viceroy of India, 1910–16.

II Government records National Archives of India, Bhopal Administration Reports of Bhopal State, 1901–23. Jarida, the Bhopal Gazette. National Archives of India, New Delhi. Records of the Foreign and Political Department, Government of India. Records of the Bhopal Political Agency, Government of India. Records of the Political Department, Bhopal State.

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India Office Library, London Crown Representative Records (R/1) (Records of the Foreign and Political Department of the Government of India, transferred to London after 1947). Records of the Information Department of the India Office (L/1). Records of the Political and Secret Department of the India Office (L/P&S). Residency Records (R/2). All-India Women’s Conference Library, New Delhi Records of the All-India Women’s Conference, 1927–34.

III Official publications Administration Report of the Bhopal State for 23 March, 1907 to 22 March, 1908, Allahabad: Pioneer Press, 1908. Administration Report of the Bhopal State for 23 March, 1908 to 22 March, 1909, Allahabad: Pioneer Press, 1910. Administration Report of the Bhopal State for 1 October, 1909 to 30 September, 1910, Allahabad: Pioneer Press, 1913. Administration Report of the Bhopal State for 1 October, 1910 to 30 September, 1911, Bhopal: Qudsia Press, 1915. Administration Report of the Bhopal State for 1 October, 1911 to 30 September, 1912, Bhopal: Qudsia Press, 1915. Administration Report of the Bhopal State for 1 October, 1912 to 30 September, 1913, Bhopal: Qudsia Press, 1916. Administration Report of the Bhopal State for 1 October, 1913 to 30 September, 1914, Bhopal: Sultania Press, 1919. Forty Fifth Annual Report of the National Association for Supplying Female Medical Aid to the Women of India for the year 1929, Delhi: Superintendent Government Printing, 1930. Gunion, R.H., Census of India, 1891, Volume XXVII: Central India, Calcutta: Office of the Superintendent of Government Printing, India, 1893. Imperial Gazetteer of India: Central India, Calcutta: Superintendent Government Printing, 1908. List of Publications [for Bhopal state, 1924–9] in Oriental and India Office Collection, London, RR/ZY. Luard, C.E., Census of India, 1901, vol. XIXB Central India, Lucknow: Nawal Kishore Steam Printing Press, 1902. –––– Bhopal State Gazetteer, vol. III, Calcutta: Superintendent Government Printing, 1908. –––– Gwalior State Gazetteer: Texts and Tables, Calcutta: Superintendent Government Printing, 1908. –––– Indore State Gazetteer, Calcutta: Superintendent Government Printing, 1908. –––– Census of India, 1921, vol. XVIII Central India, Calcutta: Government Printing, 1923. Omar, Zafar, Administration Report of Bhopal State for 2 June, 1904 to 22 May, 1905, Allahabad: Pioneer Press, 1905.

227

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–––– Administration Report of Bhopal State (1905–1906), Allahabad: Pioneer Press, 1906. –––– Administration Report of Bhopal State (1906–1907), Allahabad: Pioneer Press, 1907. Proceedings of the Conference of Ruling Princes and Chiefs: Held at Delhi on the 30th October 1916 and Following Days, Delhi: Superintendent Government Printing, 1916. Proceedings of the Conference of Ruling Princes and Chiefs: Held at Delhi on the 5th November 1917 and Following Days, Delhi: Superintendent Government Printing, 1917. Proceedings of the Conference of Ruling Princes and Chiefs: Held at Delhi on the 20th January 1919 and Following Days, Delhi: Superintendent Government Printing, 1919. Report of the Indian States (Butler) Committee, 1928–29, Delhi: Superintendent Government Printing, 1929. Selections from the Vernacular Newspapers Published in the Punjab, Northwestern Provinces, Oudh and the Central Provinces, Calcutta: Government of India, 1881. Thirtieth Annual Report of the National Association for Supplying Female Medical Aid to the Women of India for the Year 1914, Delhi: Superintendent Government Printing, 1915. Thirty Third Annual Report of the National Association for Supplying Female Medical Aid to the Women of India for the Year 1917, Delhi: Superintendent Government Printing, 1918. Tiwari, Pandit Sukhdeo, Report on the State of Education in the Central India Agency, Indore: CIA (Govt) Press, 1913.

IV Periodicals Abhyudaya (Allahabad) The Aligarh Monthly (Aligarh) Awadh Akhbar (Lucknow) Dawn (Karachi) The Friend (London) Hindustani (Lucknow) Illustrated London News (London) The Indian Social Reformer (Bombay) Islamic Review (Woking) Khatun (Aligarh) Lokmitra (Lucknow) Mehr-i-Nimruz (Bijnor) Muslim Herald (Bombay) New Leader (place of publication unknown) Pioneer (Allahabad) Pratap (place of publication unknown) The Quaker at Home and Abroad (London) Risala-i-Anjuman-i-Himayat-i-Islam (Lahore) Servant (Calcutta)

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The Statesman (Calcutta) Stridharma (Madras) Tahzib un-Niswan (Lahore) The Times (London) The Times Literary Supplement (London) Tribune (Lahore) United India and Indian States (Madras) Woking News and Mail (Woking) Young India (Ahmedabad) Zamindar (Lahore) Zil us-Sultan (Bhopal)

V Urdu works Note: Urdu works are arranged alphabetically according to the full name of the author. Hence, Sultan Jahan Begam’s works appear under S, not J or B, while Shaikh Muhammad Abdullah’s works appear under M, rather than S or A. Abru Begam (ed.), Rahbar-i-Akhlaq, Bhopal: Sultania Press, 1922. –––– (ed.), Rahbar-i-Sehat, Bhopal: Hamidia Art Press, 1922. Atiya Fyzee, Zamana-i-Tahsil, Aligarh: Matba‘ Mufid-i-‘Am, 1922. G. Baksh (ed.), Silk-i-Shahwar, Bhopal: Ruler of Bhopal, 1919. H. Majid Husain (ed.), Rajah Bhoj se Ajtuk ka Bhopal, Bhopal: Urdu Action, 1996. Kamaluddin, Khwaja, Muslim aur Ghair-Muslim ke Ta‘alluqat, Bhopal: Ruler of Bhopal, 1924. Khusrau Jahan Begam, Halat-i-nashrah, Bhopal: Hamidia Press, n.d. Maimuna Sultan Shah Bano Begam, Silk-i-Marwarid, Bhopal: Sultania Press, 1917. –––– Zikr-i-Mubarak, Bhopal: Muhammad Mahdi, 1918. –––– Khilafat-i-Rashidah, Bhopal: Sultania Press, 1919. –––– Hamari Rah ka Ghar, Bhopal: Sultania Press, 1921. –––– Siyasat-i-Sultani, Agra: Muhammad Qadir ‘Ali Khan, n.d. Muhammad Abdullah, Shaikh (ed.), Riport ijlas-i-awwal al indiya muslim lediz kanfarans mun‘aqidah ba-maqam-i-‘aligarh ba-mah-i-marc 1914, Aligarh: Institute Press, 1915. Muhammad Amin Zuberi, Begamat-i-Bhopal, Bhopal: Ruler of Bhopal, 1918. –––– Hayat-i-Sultani, Agra: Azizi Press, 1939. –––– ‘Aurat aur ‘Askarit, Hyderabad: Azim Steam Press, n.d. Muhammad Nazir Ahmed, Muhsinat, Delhi, 1887 (2nd edn). –––– Ayama, Delhi, 1891. –––– Mir’at ul-‘Arus, Lucknow: Nawal Kishore Press, 1896 (reprint). Muhammad Shibli Numani, “Purdah aur Islam” in Maqalat-i-Shibli, vol. I, Azamgarh: Maarif, 1954, 103–20. Nafis Dulhan (ed.), Riport muta‘alliq ijlas-i-duwam al indiya muslim lediz kanfarans ba-maqam ‘aligarh mun‘aqidah-i-duwum o chahum april 1915, Aligarh: Institute Press, 1915. Salma Tasadduq Husain, Azadi ki Safar: Tarikh-i-Pakistan aur Muslim Khawatin, Lahore: Pakistan Study Centre, Punjab University, 1987. Shah Jahan Begam (comp. by order of), Khizanat ul-Lughat, Bhopal, 1886.

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–––– Tahzib un-Niswan wa Tarbiyat ul-Insan, Delhi: Matba‘-i-Ansari, 1889. –––– Taj ul-Kalam, Agra, 1897. Sughra Humayon Mirza, Roznamchah Safar Bhopal, Hyderabad: al-Nisa Monthly, 1924. –––– Safarnama-i-Yurop, 2 vols, Hyderabad: ‘Azim Press, 1926. Sultan Jahan Begam, “Diary of Sultan Jahan Begam,” unpublished Urdu manuscript, c.1873–74, in collection of Princess Abida Sultaan, Karachi, Pakistan. –––– Tandurusti, Lahore: Union Yamam Press, 1913. –––– Akhtar-i-Iqbal, Agra: Mufid-i-‘Amm Press, 1914. –––– Hayat-i-Shahjahani, Agra: Mufid-i-‘Amm Press, 1914. –––– Hifz-i-Sehat, Bhopal: Sultania Press, 1916. –––– Khanadari, Bhopal, Sultania Press, 1916. –––– Hadiyat ul-Zaujain, Madras: Weekly Newspaper Press, 1917. –––– Hayat-i-Qudsi, Bhopal: Matba‘-i-Sultani, 1917. –––– Sabil ul-Jinan, Bhopal: Ruler of Bhopal, 1917. –––– ‘Iffat ul-Muslimat, Agra: Mufid-i-‘Amm Press, 1918. –––– Sirat-i-Mustafa, Bhopal: Sultania Press, 1919. –––– Faraiz un-Nisa, Bhopal: Sultania Press, 1921. –––– Islam main ‘Aurat ka Martaba, Bhopal: Hamidia Art Press, 1922. –––– Bagh-i-‘Ajib, (parts 1, 2 & 3), Bhopal: Hamidia Art Press, 1924. –––– Matbakh-i-King George, Agra: Shamsi Steam Press, n.d. Tayyebah Bi, Tarikh Farman-rawa’i’an Bhopal, Bhopal: Bhopal Book House, 1977.

VI English works Note: English works appear alphabetically according to the last name of the author, as is usual. All works by the royal women of Bhopal appear under Bhopal. Hence, Sultan Jahan Begam’s English works appear under B, rather than S, as her Urdu works do. Abadan-Unat, Nermin, “The Impact of Legal and Educational Reforms on Turkish Women” in Nikki R. Keddie and Beth Baron, Women in Middle Eastern History, New Haven CT: Yale University Press, 1991, 177–94. Abbott, Nabia, Aishah: The Beloved of Muhammad, Chicago IL: Chicago University Press, 1942. Abu-Lughod, Lila, Remaking Women: Feminism and Modernity in the Middle East, Princeton NJ: Princeton University Press, 1998. Ahmad, Aziz, Studies in Islamic Culture in the Indian Environment, Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2000 (reprint). Ahmad, Imtiaz (ed.), Caste and Social Stratification Among Muslims in India, Delhi: Manohar, 1973. –––– (ed.), Family, Kinship and Marriage Among Muslims in India, Columbia MO: South Asia Books, 1976. –––– (ed.), Modernization and Social Change Among Muslims in India, Delhi: Manmohar, 1983. Ahmed, Leila, Women and Gender in Islam, New Haven CT: Yale University Press, 1992.

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VII Personal communications Princess Abida Sultaan, eldest daughter of Nawab Hamidullah Khan and Maimoona Sultan of Bhopal, Karachi, Pakistan, 20–9 October 1995. Princess Rabia Sultaan, youngest daughter of Nawab Hamidullah Khan and Maimoona Sultan of Bhopal, Bhopal, India, 31 October, 11 November, and 27 November 1996. Shaharyar M. Khan, son of Princess Abida Sultaan of Bhopal, London, England, 4 June 1996.

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INDEX

Note: page numbers in bold indicate an illustration. Abadi Banu Begam 68, 93, 160 Abbas Ali Baig, Lady 168 Abdul Aziz, Hakim 129 Abdul Aziz, Shah 37 Abdul Bari, Maulana 68, 160 Abdul Haq Abbas 90 Abdul Qadir 21 Abdul Qadir Jilani 16 Abdul Qadir, Lady 165 Abdul Rahim Khan 14 Abdullah, Begam see Wahid Jahan Begam Abdullah, Shaikh 7, 73, 81, 85–6, 89, 104, 116, 156, 176 Abdur Rahman Bijnori, Dr 58 Abdur Rahman Siddiqui 58 Abdus Samad Khan, Major 56–7 Abida Sultaan 11, 12, 59, 60, 165, 179, 179–81; education of 88–9, 180; as heir-apparent 70, 122, 173, 180; marriage of 180; memoirs of 11, 18, 26, 28, 47–8, 51, 59, 61–2, 88, 121; as mother 180–1; nashra of 40, 88; as Pakistani 180–1; and purdah 121, 122, 180 Abru Begam 58–9, 60, 76–7, 93–4, 113, 119, 149, 160, 161, 162, 165, 171, 180 Absh Khatun 172 Abul A’la Maududi, Syed 109, 110, 212n52 Abul Kalam Azad, Maulana 58–9; sisters of 58–9, 60, 76–7, 93–4, 97, 113, 119, 149, 160, 161, 162, 165, 171, 180 Abul Qasim “Muhtasham” 34–5 Abu-Lughod, Lila 6 Aftab Ahmed Khan 104 Aftab Begam 113 Aga Khan 10, 168 Agra 49, 52 Ahl-i-hadith 21, 33, 37–41, 42, 43, 56; see also Siddiq Hasan, Sayyid Ahmad Ali Khan 27–8, 30, 40, 42, 48, 148 Ahmad Khan, Sayyid 22–5, 26, 36, 38, 66, 71, 76, 95, 102, 129, 139, 155, 209n139

Ahmad of Rai Bareilly, Sayyid 21, 37 Ahmad Riza Khan, Maulana 56, 201n69 Ahmadis 57 Aisha 16, 76, 104, 146, 163, 193n16 Aizaz Rasul, Sayyid 159 ajlaf 23 Ajmal Khan, Hakim 58, 129, 135; see also Sharifi family Akhtar-i-taban 34 Alexandra Nobles’ School 89, 93, 94, 95 Alexandra, Queen Mother 108 Al-Hijab or Why Purdah is Necessary (Sultan Jahan) 100, 102–5, 109–10, 121 Al-Huquq-wa’l-Fara’iz (Nazir Ahmad Dehlavi) 147 Ali brothers 160; see also Mohamed Ali; Shaukat Ali Ali Haidar Abbasi, Qazi 52, 171 Aligarh 73, 78, 90, 159, 176; journals published in 35, 73, 112, 115, 139, 176; Muhammadan Anglo-Oriental College at 6, 38, 57–8, 59, 71, 78, 81, 95, 156, 161, 162; reform movement associated with 7, 13, 22, 25, 36, 38–9, 57–8, 73, 78, 80, 82, 93, 95, 99, 112, 129, 139, 142, 147, 155, 174, 177; women of 157, 159, 160–1, 162; women’s meetings at 75, 80, 104, 105, 116, 156, 160–1; see also Ahmad Khan, Sayyid; Aligarh Girls’ School; Aligarh Muslim University; Aligarh Women’s College; Muhammadan Educational Conference; Muslim University movement Aligarh Girls’ School 73, 80, 82, 83, 84, 85–7, 89, 101, 116, 119, 159, 160, 176–7, 181 Aligarh Institute Gazette (Aligarh) 139 Aligarh Muslim University 10, 95, 178, 212n65, 225n14 Aligarh Women’s College 181; see also Aligarh Girls’ School

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IN D E X Aligarh Zenana Madrasa see Aligarh Girls’ School Al-Ittihad al-Nisa’i al-Misri see Egyptian Feminist Union Aliya Khatun 84, 213n79 Allahabad 49, 84, 95, 110, 116, 128, 158 Allama Khalil Arab 180 All-India Ayurvedic and Tibbia Conference 58, 129 All-India Ladies’ Art Exhibition 84, 116–17, 162 All-India Ladies’ Association 73, 78, 79–80, 117–20, 141, 145, 152, 153, 161–4, 165, 166 All-India League for Maternity and Child Welfare 131–2, 132, 134–5, 141, 142 All-India Muslim Ladies’ Conference see Anjuman-i-Khawatin-i-Islam All-India Women’s Conference (AIWC) 11, 60, 78, 121–2, 129, 145, 153–4, 158, 159, 165–6, 174, 175, 181, 222n97, 225n14 Altaf Husain Hali 14, 43, 74–5, 85, 87, 95, 102, 111, 172, 176–7 Al-taj ul-mukallal (Sayyid Siddiq Hasan) 35, 39 Alwar, Maharaja of 63 Ameer Ali, Syed 102, 103, 119, 146, 151, 154, 172, 174, 210n10 Amir Hasan, Begam 162 Amir Minai 34 Anis Hamid, Begam 118 Anjuman-i-Hidayat-i-Islam 52 Anjuman-i-Himayat-i-Islam 81–2, 89–90, 155 Anjuman-i-Islam 155 Anjuman-i-Khawatin-i-Islam (Hyderabad) 113 Anjuman-i-Khawatin-i-Islam (Lahore) 113, 159–60 Anjuman-i-Khawatin-i-Islam 12, 75, 76–7, 80–1, 100, 104, 116, 118, 145, 148–9, 160–1, 162, 163, 166 Anjuman-i-Khuddam-i-Ka‘aba 160 Ansari, Begam 160, 165 Ansari, Dr M.A. 58, 135, 153, 160, 179 Arabic 10, 28, 76, 137, 138; lessons in 26, 59, 88; script of 47; translation to and from 34, 147; transliteration from 12; vocabulary of 195n66 Arnold, David 127, 138 Arya Samaj 50, 53 Asfia School 28, 127 Asfia Technical School 92–4, 97, 115 Asfia Zenana Dispensary 128, 133 Ashfaq Ali, Syed 8 ashraf 3, 26, 45, 74, 78, 88, 89, 97, 143, 161, 178; employment of 16, 56; female education for 74, 81–9, 91, 97; and purdah 23, 82–3, 111, 117; women 7, 13, 108, 113

Ashraf Ali Thanawi, Maulana 6–7, 14, 42, 75, 79, 80, 139, 140, 147, 174 Ashton, Steven 8 Asif Jahan 43 Asmat Begam 4 Athavale, Parvati 106 Attewell, Guy 128, 137, 140 auqaf see waqf Avarodhbasini (Rokeya Sakhawat Hossain) 101, 107, 123 Awadh 16, 20; Begam of 18 Awlad Hasan, Sayyid 37 Ayama (Nazir Ahmad Dehlavi) 14 baby shows 115, 132, 135, 136, 141 Baby Week movement 132, 136 Bagh-i-‘Ajib (Sultan Jahan) 76, 205n22 Bahawalpur, Nawab of 82 Bahu Begam see Saliha Begam Baksh, Mrs G. 83, 84, 85, 93, 94, 114, 162 Bakshi Muhammad Khan 17 Balfour, Lady Frances 109 Banat un-Na‘sh (Nazir Ahmad Dehlavi) 14 Banerjee, Swapna 77 Baqi Muhammad Khan 27–8, 48 Baratiya Kala Kendra 179 Barnes, Mrs F.D. 129, 130 Baroda 57, 96, 191n34, 204n6; Maharajas of 64, 179; Maharani of 96, 135, 165 Baron, Beth 6, 10 Bashirullah Khan, Mrs 135 Bayley, C.S. 44 bazaars: for women 36 Beck, Lois 6 Behnas 47 Bengal 7, 23, 77, 86, 107, 130, 136, 145, 163, 166; writers and reformers from 19, 43, 74, 75, 79, 85, 86, 93, 101, 102, 103, 107, 119, 123, 146, 147, 150, 151, 154, 157, 158, 168, 172, 174, 175, 210n10; see also Calcutta Bengal Ladies’ Conference 163 Besant, Annie 171 Bharat Shuddhi Sabha 49 Bharat Stree Mahamandal 158–9, 163 Bharatiya Kala Kendra 179 Bhils 46 Bhopal Apostasy Law 49–52 Bhopal Produce Trust 46, 50 Bhopal state: clan groupings in 16–17, 27, 47–8, 55; economy of 46, 47, 50–1, 54–5; linguistic profile of 47; population of 43, 46; religious profile of 46–7; sex-ratio in 47 Bi Amman see Abadi Banu Begam Bihishti Zewar (Maulana Ashraf Ali Thanawi) 6–7, 14, 42, 75, 79, 80, 139, 140, 147 Bikaner, Maharaja of 63, 170 Bilqis 16, 43

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IN D E X Bilqis Jahan 30, 39 Bilqisia Orphanage 41, 90, 94 Birjis Jahan 40 Birjisia Kania Patshala 94 Bismillah Khanam 128, 131–2, 133, 135, 136, 162 Blakeway, D.P. 68 Blong, Miss L. 127 Bohras 47, 48–9, 52 Bombay presidency 7, 49, 59, 78, 88, 91, 102, 121, 128, 137, 155, 156, 157, 161, 162, 163, 164, 165, 167, 171, 211n40 Booth, Marilyn 172 Bosanquet, Sir Oswald V. 62–3 Bourbons, Bhopal 16–17, 61 British Library 10 Burke, Winifred Sybil 59 Burman, Dr S.K. 124 Butler, Sir Harcourt 142 Calcutta 7, 31, 32, 41, 50, 59, 63, 74, 124, 157, 161 Catherine the Great 172 Central Technical Institute (Bombay) 91 Chamber of Princes 53, 64, 178, 200n47 Chamberlain, Lord 63 Chand Sultana 169, 172 Chanda Bi 48 Chasmah-i-Khirad (Abdul Rahim Khan) 14 Chatterjee, Partha 174, 194n50 Chaudhurani, Saraladevi 158, 159 Chelmsford, Lady 132, 135 Chelmsford, Lord 63, 167, 170 Chhami Begam 154 Chiefs’ Conferences 63, 64, 69, 170, 173 child marriage 144, 145, 146, 147, 152–3, 155, 174 Chinnappa, Miss M.W. 84, 85 Christian community 46–7, 61, 162, 180; women of 5, 59, 61, 71, 81, 83–4, 90, 113, 153, 157, 162, 163, 166, 180; see also missionaries, Christian; Quakers Chup ki Dad (Altaf Husain Hali) 176–7 clubs 11, 95, 112–13, 134, 159; see also Anjuman-i-Khawatin-i-Islam (Hyderabad); Anjuman-i-Khawatin-iIslam (Lahore); Davis Ladies’ Club; Hyderabad Ladies’ Association; Princess of Wales Ladies’ Club Cochin 171 Cohen, Miss 89 Congress, Indian National 50, 58, 76, 159, 167 Cooch Behar, Maharani of 97, 121 Cook, Austin 61 Cooper, Elizabeth 109 Copland, Ian 8, 44–5, 52, 55, 62, 64 Cousins, Margaret 164

Cromer, Lord 169 Curjel, Dr Dagmar 130–1, 134 Curzon, Lord 34, 44, 54, 169 Cutch, Rao of 170 dai see midwifery Dalhousie, Lord 20 Daly College 95 Daly, Colonel Henry 33 Daly, Mrs 157 Dane, Lady Edith 91, 159 Darul Uloom (Hyderabad) 82 Das, Bhagwan 94 Davis Ladies’ Club 114 Davis, Georgina 62, 157, 212n65 Davis, W.S. (Walter Stewart) 62, 63–4 Delhi 11, 20, 21, 25, 35, 36, 37, 39, 42, 50, 54, 58, 60, 63, 64, 65, 68, 73, 82, 83, 91, 124, 128, 129, 131, 134, 135, 141, 157, 160, 165, 169, 170, 173, 174 Deoband: Dar ul-Ulum at 6, 40, 56, 82, 95, 104, 142, 147, 201n70; reformist movement associated with 6–7, 39, 56, 57, 71, 75, 99, 140, 142, 147, 174, 177; see also Ashraf Ali Thanawi, Maulana Dewas: the Maharaja of 8; the Maharani of 157 Dhrangadhara, Maharaja of 179 Dirks, Nicholas 44; and the “hollow crown” 9, 44, 71–2 divorce 42, 109, 110, 144, 145, 146, 148, 154, 174, 175 Diwan ul-Khutub ul-Sanat ul-Kamila (Sayyid Siddiq Hasan) 33 Diwan-i-shirin (Shah Jahan) 35 Doll’s House, The (Ibsen) 78 Dost Muhammad Khan 4, 15, 48 dowry 14, 47, 198n15 Draupadi 163 Dufferin, Countess of 126 Dufferin Fund see Association for Supplying Female Medical Aid to the Women of India Dushka Saiyid 7 East India Company 7, 13, 16, 219n17 Edib, Halidé 87–8, 148, 207n87 education 3, 5, 7, 22, 23, 38, 41, 43, 55, 58, 59, 60, 72, 73, 80, 91, 94–6, 97, 100, 101, 104, 108, 110, 116, 124, 139, 143, 145, 147, 151, 155, 156, 158, 169, 173, 178–9, 181, 209n139; of administrative officers 55–6, 57–8, 59, 93, 94–5; of Ahmad Ali Khan 27; in midwifery 42, 125, 126, 129, 130–2, 135, 141, 143, 177; in nursing as a profession 125, 129, 141, 143; and princes 14, 41, 63, 74, 78, 81, 82, 86–7, 93, 95, 96, 134; and purdah 9, 22–3, 75, 81, 82–3, 85, 87, 90, 98,

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IN D E X 101, 103, 110, 111–14, 118–19, 121–2, 123, 126, 177; of Sayyid Siddiq Hasan 37; of Sultan Jahan 9, 13, 25–7, 28–9, 43; of Sultan Jahan’s descendants 28, 30, 69, 88–9, 95, 113, 178, 180; of women 2–3, 6, 7, 9–10, 13–14, 22–3, 25, 59–60, 73–99, 101, 103–4, 105–6, 106–7, 108–9, 110, 111–17, 118–19, 121–2, 125, 132–6, 141, 146, 148–9, 150, 152, 155, 156, 158, 159, 160, 161, 162, 163, 165, 168, 169, 170, 171, 173, 176, 177, 222n112; see also madrasas; schools; universities Egypt 33, 169, 172; and education 76, 79, 87, 91, 93; Khedive Ismail of 23; and veiling 118, 121; women in 6, 10, 23, 113, 148, 150, 153, 157–8, 161, 167–8, 172 Egyptian Feminist Union 10, 93 Elgin, Lord 34 Elton, Miss M.E. 153 Engels, Dagmar 130 English 2, 34, 63, 64, 158; as language of instruction 23, 80, 81, 82, 89, 95, 130, 133; lessons in 22, 25–6, 29, 80, 84, 88, 89, 180; translation to and from 10, 61, 62, 100, 139, 144, 210n26; writings in 4, 11, 12, 70, 75, 80, 101, 112, 163 Faizunnessa Chaudhurai 23, 86 Faizunnessa Girls’ School 23, 86 Falcon Crest Public School 99 Faraiz un-Nisa 151 Farangi Mahall 16, 40, 56, 68, 95, 193n16 Fatah Bibi 4 Fatima 146, 155, 163 Fatima Begam 58–9, 77, 93–4, 97, 119, 160, 162, 165 Fatima Khail 27 feminism 3, 10, 75, 97, 123, 125, 144–5, 149, 153, 158, 192n40 Festival of Empire 108 Fitze, K.S. 69, 70 Fitzroy, Yvonne 84, 142 Forbes, Geraldine 124, 126, 132, 144–5, 165–6 Foucault, Michel 126 French 25, 88, 89 Friends’ Foreign Missionary Association see Quakers Froebel Institute 180 Fyzee sisters 59, 106, 212n65; see also Fyzee, Atiya; Fyzee, Zehra; Janjira, Nazli, Begam of Fyzee, Atiya 59–60, 106–7, 116, 157, 175, 202n89 Fyzee, Zehra 59–60, 115, 116, 156, 157, 161, 162 Gandhi, Indira 179 Gandhi, Mohandas K. 50, 68, 93, 164

Ganpat Rai, Pandit 26–7 gardens 27, 35 Geertz, Clifford 44; and the “theatre state” 44, 71 George V, King-Emperor 70, 79, 108 Ghalib 20 Ghalib Society 179 Ghosal, Mr B. 112 Ghulam Ahmad, Mirza 57 Girl Guides 115–16 Gökalp, Ziya 21 Gonds 46 Govind Prasad Verma, Raizada 51, 52 Griffin, Sir Lepel Henry 33 Gupta, Charu 49 Gwalior 15, 41, 62, 127, 130, 199n22, 200n57; the Maharajas of 8, 63, 65, 69; Rani of 18 Habibia Technical School 91 hadith 21, 38, 39–40; and health 139; lessons in 37, 59, 88; Mashariq ul-anwar (al-Hasan al-Saghani al-Lahoril) 39–40; Mishkat ulmasabih (Tabrizi) 39–40; and purdah 103, 104; and women’s rights 16, 169, 174, 193n11 Hadiyat ul-Zaujain (Sultan Jahan) 144 Hailey, Lady 135 Hajibhoy, Rahmatullah 49 hajj 16, 21, 25, 107, 147 hakims and hakima 41, 59, 124, 128, 131, 137; training for 127, 128, 141; see also Abdul Aziz, Hakim; Ajmal Khan, Hakim; Bismillah Khanam; Noor-ul-Hasan, Hakim; yunani tibb Hali Muslim High School 95 Hamid, Halil 109 Hamidia Library 111–12 Hamidullah Khan, Nawabzada (later Nawab) 43, 55, 95, 111, 179, 200n49; accession of 70, 71, 180; and Bhopal Succession Case 69–70, 96; and Chamber of Princes 64, 178; as Chief Secretary 53, 58, 69, 71, 199n22; and daughters 70, 88, 89, 121; education of 28, 57, 58, 89, 95; marriage of 152; as Nawab 178, 202n100, 204n147, 212n65, 224n5; political activities of 62, 178 Hardinge, Lady 157 Hardinge, Lord 19, 63 Harnam Singh, Lady 159 Harrison, Brian 169 Hasan, Mushirul 58 Hasanara Begam “Namkeen” 34 Hasrat Mohani, Begam 93, 167 Haya-–i-Qudsi (Sultan Jahan) 15 Haya-i-Shahjehani (Sultan Jahan) 35 health 1, 9–10, 72, 58, 108; and education 78, 79, 91, 125–36, 141, 143; and purdah 1, 41–2, 101, 109, 110, 118, 126–7, 128, 133–4,

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IN D E X 136, 141, 177; and Shah Jahan 41–2, 43, 126; and Sultan Jahan 9–10, 41–2, 61, 79, 124–43, 177, 181; and women 9–10, 79, 111, 112, 114, 124–43, 152, 157, 162, 165, 177; see also hakims and hakima; hospitals; midwifery; nursing; yunani tibb Hemanta Kumari Chosdhury, Mrs 162 Hifz-i-sehat (Sultan Jahan) 139–40 Hijaz 16, 21, 25, 27, 29, 59, 68, 107–8, 150 hijrat movement 68 Hilla Rustomji Farindooji 164, 222n97 Hindi 12, 35, 47, 49, 81, 91, 95, 115, 163, 198n14 Hindu Mahasabha 50, 53, 94 Hindustani Dawakhana 124 hospitals 11, 41, 49, 125, 126, 128, 129, 132, 141, 142, 215n23; leper hospital (Sehore) 41; Prince of Wales Hospital (Bhopal) 41; St George’s Hospital (Bombay) 59; St Thomas’ Hospital (London) 108; see also Lady Landsdowne Hospital Hossain, Yasmin 86 Humai Bahman 163 Humayon Mirza, Sayyid 107 Huquq un-Niswan (Sayyid Mumtaz Ali) 102, 104, 123, 146–7 Husain Ibn Muhsin 22 Husein Khan, Munshi 26 Husn Ara Begam 118 Hussain Shahid Suhrawardy 86 Hyderabad 3, 7, 16, 37, 93, 191n34, 191n36, 193n30; education in 82; Nizams of 20, 37, 38, 51–2, 63, 64, 66, 70, 86–7; women of 11, 78, 112, 113, 117, 152, 162; women’s health in 128, 130 Hyderabad Ladies’ Club 113

‘Ismat (Delhi) 112, 115, 149, 205n26

‘Iffat ul-Muslimat (Sultan Jahan) 100, 102–5, 109–10 ijma‘ 38 ijtihad 21, 22 Ikramullah, Shaista 175 Imtiaz Ali, Munshi 34 India, republic of 5, 11 Indian Councils Bill 65–6 Indian Medical Service 130, 133 Indian Social Reformer, The (Bombay) 75 Indian Women’s Education Association 168 Indore 62, 95, 112, 127, 173; the Maharajas of 64, 65 infanticide, female 47, 145, 148, 174, 219n17 inheritance, female 144, 145, 146, 147, 150, 173, 174, 175 International Council of Women 164–5 International Women’s Suffrage Alliance 171 Iqtidar Dulhan 78, 161, 162 Islam main ‘Aurat ka Martaba (Sultan Jahan) 144, 147–8

Kamaluddin, Khwaja 53, 57, 151, 168, 204n142, 220n30 Kandiyoti, Deniz 224n3 Kanpur 37, 49, 124 Kanya Mahavidyalaya 119 Karam Muhammad Khan, Mian 17 Karamat Husain, Sayyid 7, 82, 87 Karve, D.K. 163 Keddie, Nikki 6 Khadija 163 Khadiv Jang, Begam 78, 152, 162 khalifa see Khilafat movement Khalil Ahmad, Maulana 57 Khan, Shaharyar M. 8, 14, 27, 179, 180 Khanadari (Sultan Jahan) 151 Khatun (Aligarh) 35, 73, 112, 115, 176 Khilafat movement 49, 51, 58, 62, 66–9, 70, 93, 160, 164 Khilafat Workers Conference 68 Khujista Akhtar Begam 86 khul‘ 154

Jacobson, Doranne 123 Jahalwar 171 Jahangir Muhammad Khan 17–18, 20, 24 Jahangiria School see Madrasa-i-Jahangiria Jalalabadis 27, 48; see also Ahmad Ali Khan; Chanda Bi; Qaisar Dulhan; Shaharyar Dulhan Jamaluddin Khan, Maulvi 21, 24, 29, 37 Janjira, Nazli, Begam of 59, 74, 157, 158, 160, 162, 171 Jaora, Nawab of 86–7, 154 Jarida, Bhopal 49 Jasdan, Regent Rani of 74 Jeffrey, Robin 8 Jhansi 20 jihad 21, 33, 38, 68 Jinnah, Muhammad Ali 153 Johory, Dr Joseph 61 Johory, Katherine 61, 90 Jolly, Margaret 132 Jones, Kenneth W. 6 Joshi, Anandibai 163 Joshi, Mr 91 journals 7, 10, 58, 98, 100, 112, 114, 115, 118, 123, 128, 149, 161, 163, 164, 175, 212n52; see also Aligarh Institute Gazette (Aligarh); Indian Social Reformer, The (Bombay); ‘Ismat (Delhi); Khatun (Aligarh); Stridharma (Madras); Tahzib un-Niswan (Lahore); un-Nisa (Hyderabad); Zebunnissa (Lahore); Zil us-Sultan (Bhopal) Junagadh: Munawwar Jahan Begam of 157; Nawab of 86–7, 157

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IN D E X Khushwakht Rai, Raja 17 Khutabat-i-Ahmadiya (Sayyid Ahmad Khan) 139 Khwaja Majid, Begam 162, 164 King Edward Museum 111–12 Kosambi, Meera 75, 106, 158 Krishnamurty, J. 46 Kristeva, Julia 117, 119 Kurwai 86–7; Begam of 157; Sarwar Ali Khan of 180 Lady Irwin College for Home Science, Educational and Psychological Research and Training Teachers 222n97 Lady Landsdowne Hospital 41–2, 126–7, 129, 130, 133, 142, 143, 162 Lady Minto Nursing School 129 Lahore 73, 81–2, 84, 89, 91, 102, 113, 141, 148, 149, 159, 160, 161, 208n117, 213n92 Landsdowne, Lord 31, 34 language 21, 26, 34, 41, 45, 47, 79, 80, 104, 115, 158; see also Arabic; English; French; Hindi; Sanskrit; Turkish; Urdu Lawrence, Lord 19 Le Bon, Gustave 109 Le Brun, Eugénie 158 Leitfells, Marie Francesca 59 Leitner, Dr G.W. 36 Loharu 159 Lord, John 8, 191n32 Loyal Muhammadans of India, The (Sayyid Ahmad Khan) 22 Luard, Lt-Col. C.E. 62, 68 Lucknow 49, 59, 82, 86, 87, 124, 129, 157, 160 Macmillan, Chrystal 171 Madras 16, 78, 84, 164, 171, 211n40 Madrasa Ahmedia 56 Madrasa Bilqisia 90–1 Madrasa-i-Aliya 82 Madrasa-i-Jahangiria 41, 91, 94–5 Madrasa-i-Shahi (Moradabad) 56 Madrasa-i-Sulaimania see Sulaimania High School Madrasa-i-Sultaniya 87 Madrasa-i-tibbiya 58, 124, 128, 129 madrasas see Deoband, Dar ul-Ulum at; Farangi Mahall; Madrasa-i-Shahi (Moradabad); Madrasa-i-tibbiya; Mazahir ul-‘Ulum (Saharanpur); Nadwatul ‘Ulama; schools Madrasat ul-Banat 90 Mahbubiya Girls’ School 82 Mahmud Hassan, Maulana 56 Mahmudabad, Raja of 68, 82 mahr 40, 145, 147, 150, 154, 155, 174 Maimoona Sultan 89, 98, 115, 135, 157, 179; and All-India Ladies’ Art Exhibition 152;

as Begam of Bhopal 122, 165, 166, 178; education of 88; marriage of 152; and purdah 108–9, 120–1, 122; writings and speeches of 92, 108–9, 114, 120, 124, 131, 134, 138–9, 151, 178 Majalis un-Nisa (Altaf Husain Hali) 14, 176, 178 Maji Sahiba see Mamola Bai Majlis-i-Ahrar 57 Malak Hifni Nasif 148 Maler Kotla 159 Malleson, Colonel G.B. 19 Mamola Bai 4 Mani, Lata 126 Maqbul Husain, Mrs 157 Marathas 4, 15, 16, 20, 64, 110 Maria Christina, Queen 172 Mary, Queen-Empress 91, 108 Maternity and Child Welfare Exhibition see All-India League for Maternity and Child Welfare Matinuzzaman, Mrs 119 Mayo, Lord 33 Mazahir ul-‘Ulum (Saharanpur) 56–7 Mecca see Hijaz medicine see health Medina see Hijaz Mehmooda Begam 135 Mehrunnisa 140 Meston, Lady 157 Metcalf, Barbara 6–7, 14, 25, 56, 58, 73, 77, 139, 145, 192n41, 201n70 midwifery 59, 125, 142, 160; training in 42, 125, 126, 129, 130–2, 135, 141, 143, 177 Mill, James 146 Minault, Gail 6–7, 13, 14, 73, 87, 89, 98, 100–1, 123, 145, 160, 161, 165 Minto, Lady 65, 85, 113, 129, 157, 212–13n72 Minto, Lord 53, 63, 65, 68 Mir’at ul-‘Arus (Nazir Ahmad Dehlavi) 13–14, 76, 80, 205n18 Mirazi Khail 17, 27, 47–8 Mishti Khail 17, 27, 47–8 missionaries, Christian 1, 11–12, 41, 78, 81, 83–4, 97, 110, 126, 129, 139, 142; see also Quakers Mittal, Kamla 8 Mohamed Ali 57–8, 153 Mohamed Ali, Begam 165 Mohammed Ali Rizvi, Maulvi Syed 83 Mohiuddin Khan, Qazi 56 Mohsin Badruddin Tyabji, Mrs 162 Montagu, Edwin 63–4, 73, 167 Montessori, Maria 79–80, 99, 163 mosques 16, 36, 38, 52, 103, 107–8; Jama Masjid (Bhopal) 38, 52; Jama Masjid (Delhi) 25, 36; Taj ul-Masajid (Bhopal) 36; see also Woking, Shah Jahan Mosque at

251

IN D E X Moti Begam 4 Mughals 1, 3, 4 16, 19, 20, 35, 36, 42, 47, 70, 71, 172, 189n10; Akbar 19; Aurangzeb 49; Jahangir 36; Shah Jahan 25 Mughlani Khanam 83 Muhammad Amin Zuberi 60, 112, 212n65 Muhammad Hasan Khan 58 Muhammad Ibn Ali ash–Shaukani 22 Muhammad Ishaq Khan, Nawab 78, 161 Muhammad Islam, Hafiz 35, 42, 196n113 Muhammad, Prophet 2, 25, 38, 39, 57, 88, 104, 107, 108, 120, 139, 147, 148, 149, 150, 169. 174; Companions of 38, 103; daughter of 146, 155, 163; wives of 76, 103, 104, 146, 163, 193n16 Muhammad Shafi, Mian 82 Muhammadan Educational Conference (MEC) 7, 58, 80–1, 86, 90, 95, 155, 156, 159, 161, 176 Muhammadi Begam 73, 75, 111 Muhsinat (Nazir Ahmad Dehlavi) 14 Muir, William 14, 139 Mumtaz Ali, Sayyid 7, 73, 102, 103, 104, 111, 112, 119, 123, 146–7, 150, 154, 174 Munawwar Jahan Begam 34 Munir Muhammad Khan 17 Musharraf Jahan Begam 34 Mushtaq Hussain, Begam 159 Muslim Dissolution of Marriages Act 175 Muslim Girls’ School (Lucknow) 82, 87 Muslim Home (Sultan Jahan) 144, 150–1, 175 Muslim League, All-India 58, 153, 159, 161, 168 Muslim Married Couple see Muslim Home Muslim University movement 58, 156–7 Mustafa Khan “Shefta”, Nawab 34 Mysore 128, 172, 204n6; the Maharajas of 8, 19, 64 Nabawiyah Musa 150 Nabha, Maharaja of 68 Nadwatul ‘Ulama 59–60, 82, 95 Nafis Dulhan Sherwani 157, 160, 162 Nagpur 15, 20, 52, 84 Naidu, Sarojini 60, 119, 120, 159, 162, 167–8, 171 Nainby, Ellen 83–4 Nampalli Girls’ School 82 Nasrullah Khan, Nawabzada 28, 39, 43, 48, 55, 69, 96 National Association for Supplying Female Medical Aid to the Women of India 42, 126, 127, 130 National Council of Women in India (NCWI) 145, 164–5, 222n97 Nazar Muhammad Khan 15, 65 Nazir Ahmad Dehlavi 13–14, 42, 43, 74–5, 76, 80, 85, 102, 103, 105, 111, 147, 172, 205n18

Nazir Bi 83 Nazir Husain, Maulana 38 Nehru, Jawaharlal 78, 162 Nehru, Sarup Kumari 162 newspapers 49–53; Abhyudaya (Allahabad) 49; Agra Akhbar (Agra) 38; Awadh Akhbar (Lucknow) 51, 114; Awadh Punch 38; Islamic Review (Woking) 109; Lokmitra (Lucknow) 49; Pioneer (Allahabad) 114; Servant (Calcutta) 50; Tej (Agra) 49; The Times (London) 33–4; United India and Indian States (Madras) 52; Vertaman (Kanpur) 49; Young India (Madras) 50 Nigaristan-i-sukhan (Shah Jahan) 35 Nightingale, Florence 125, 163 Nizam College 82 Nizamuddin Hassan, Maulvi 104 Noor-ul-Hasan, Hakim 127 Nur Jahan 36, 163, 172 Nuri, Celal 109 nursing 59, 88, 104, 126, 129, 160; at home 9–10, 79, 85, 125, 133, 134, 135, 142; professional training in 125, 129, 141, 143; see also Lady Minto Nursing School O’Dwyer, Lady 157 Obaidullah Khan, Nawabzada 28, 40, 43, 48, 55, 69, 96, 107, 108, 114 Oldenburg, Veena 47, 148, 198n15, 219n17 Oliphant, Miss 97, 115, 165 Orakzai 27, 48 organizations 2, 7, 9, 10, 11, 48, 49, 50, 52, 53, 78, 98, 101, 116, 117, 123, 124, 144–5, 155–6, 160, 162–3, 164, 165, 166, 168, 174, 177, 178, 181; see also All-India Ayurvedic and Tibbia Conference; All-India Ladies’ Association; All-India League for Maternity and Child Welfare; All-India Women’s Conference; Anjuman-iHidayat-i-Islam; Anjuman-i-Himayat-iIslam; Anjuman-i-Islam; Anjuman-iKhawatin-i-Islam; Anjuman-i-i Khuddam-i-Ka‘aba; Bengal Ladies’ Conference; Bharat Stree Mahamandal; Bharatiya Kala Kendra; Congress, Indian National; Ghalib Society; Indian Women’s Education Association; International Council of Women; International Women’s Suffrage Alliance; Majlis-iAhrar; Muslim League, All-India; National Association for Supplying Female Medical Aid to the Women of India; National Council of Women in India; Red Crescent Society; Seva Sadan; St John’s Ambulance Association; Women’s Hockey Association; Women’s Indian Association

252

IN D E X Pakistan 11, 179, 180, 181, 195n66 palaces: Ahmedabad 87, 89, 99; Ali Manzil 35, 113–14; Benazir 35; in Bhopal 30, 36, 55, 58, 59, 60, 61–2; Taj Mahal 35, 82, 85 Palanpur 86–7 Pankhurst, Emmeline, Sylvia and Christabel 167 Papanek, Hanna 100, 122 Parsi community 46, 48, 157, 163, 166 Partapgarh 59 Pataudi 179; Nawab Muhammad Iftikhar Ali Khan of 178; see also Saif Ali Khan; Sajida Sultan; Soha Ali Khan; Tagore, Sharmila Pathans 17, 26, 47, 48, 89, 180, 189n10 Pathari, Begam of 119 Patiala 162 Paul, Miss A.E. 133 Paul, Miss S.M. 85, 165 Pearson, Michael 25 Persian: as court language 19; lessons in 14, 25–6, 29, 59, 82, 84, 88, 91, 95; poetry in 34; translation to and from 21, 34, 39; transliteration from 12; vocabulary of 195n66 Pharoah Nitocris 172 pilgrimage see hajj Pilgrimage to Mecca, A (Sikandar) 21, 25 Pindaris 16 Pinjaras 47 Platts, John T. 12 polygamy 109, 144, 145, 146, 147, 148–9, 153, 155, 173, 174, 192n3, 219n17 Praja Mandals 53 Prakash, Gyan 142 Preckel, Claudia 8 Press Act (1910) 53 Prince of Wales (later Edward VII) 31–2, 41 Prince of Wales (later Edward VIII) 55, 171 princely states 5, 7–9, 13, 19, 20, 22, 31, 43, 44–5, 48, 51, 53, 57, 62, 63–4, 70, 71, 126, 170, 177, 178; dissolution of 179, 180; and education 14, 41, 63, 74, 78, 81, 82, 86–7, 93, 95, 96, 134; and health 129, 130, 142, 170; and succession 69, 70; women of 59, 96, 121, 135, 159, 160, 162, 174–5; see also Alwar; Awadh; Bahawalpur; Baroda; Bikaner; Cochin; Cooch Behar; Cutch; Dewas; Dhrangadhara; Gwalior; Hyderabad; Indore; Jahalwar; Jaora; Jasdan; Jhansi; Junagadh; Kurwai; Loharu; Mahmudabad; Maler Kotla; Mysore; Nabha; Nagpur; Palanpur; Partapgarh; Pataudi; Pathari; Patiala; Rampur; Sangli; Satara; Tonk; Travancore Princess of Wales Ladies’ Club 75, 77, 92, 94, 96, 100, 105–6, 108, 112–15, 122, 124, 125, 132–4, 136, 138–9, 140, 143, 144, 145, 149,

151, 154, 156–8, 162, 163, 166, 169–70, 174, 177, 178, 181, 221n63 Punjab 7, 16, 50, 57, 63, 90, 91, 114, 119, 145, 155, 159, 160, 191n30, 198n15; see also Lahore Purdah and the Status of Women in Islam 109 Purdah aur Islam (Maulana Shibli Numani) 102 purdah see veiling and seclusion Pushtu 25–6 Qaisar Dulhan 48, 114 qiyas 38 Quaiser, Neshat 128–9 Quakers 11–12, 61, 81, 83–4, 90, 97, 126, 142 Qudsia Aizaz Rasul, Begam 159, 175 Qudsia Begam 4, 5, 13, 15–18, 31, 36, 40, 43, 55, 120, 170, 173, 177; and purdah 4, 5, 17–18, 23, 43 Queen Mary School (Lahore) 82, 91 Queen Mary’s School (Delhi) 54, 91 Queen’s Proclamation 13, 33 Qur’an, 21, 37, 38, 53, 74, 76, 98, 102, 153; and female inheritance 150, 173; and health 139; lessons in 14, 23, 25, 26, 29, 39, 59, 77, 82, 84, 88, 90, 91, 95, 180; and marriage 151, 154; and polygamy 148, 149; and veiling 102, 103, 104, 118, 169; and women’s rights 146, 147, 150, 151, 174 Rabia Sultan 88, 121, 165, 178–9, 179 railway 36, 100 Rajputs 4 Ramabai, Pandita 106, 158, 163 Rammohan Roy, Raja 146 Rampur 154; Nawabs of 10, 38, 70, 82, 154 Ramusack, Barbara 8, 45, 63, 134 Ranade, Justice Mahadev Govind 153 Ranken, Mrs 96–7 Rashid ul-Khairi 82, 98, 149, 205n26 Rashida Latif, Mrs 141 Razia Sultana 169, 172 Reading, Lady 60, 65, 84, 85, 132, 136, 142 Reading, Lord 49, 53, 63, 68, 70, 200n47, 203n131 Red Crescent Society 58, 156 reform movements see Ahl-i-hadith; Ahmad of Rai Bareilly, Sayyid; Aligarh; Deoband; Nadwatul ‘Ulama; Waliullah, Shah Reign of Terror in Bhopal State, The (“Zia-ulHaq”) 34 Robinson, Francis 66 Rokeya Sakhawat Hossain 43, 74, 75, 79, 85, 93, 101, 107, 123, 147, 150; see also Sakhawat Memorial Girls’ School Round Table Conferences 178, 222n97 Royal School of Art Needlework 108

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IN D E X Roznamchah Safar Bhopal (Sughra Humayon Mirza) 118 Rupp, Leila J. 117, 119 Ruz-i-raushan (Shah Jahan) 35 Sabil ul-Jinan (Sultan Jahan) 144, 147 Sadiq ul-bayan (Shah Jahan) 35 Safiya Begam (Muhammadi Begam) 75 Saif Ali Khan 179 Sajida Sultan 40, 59, 88, 121, 165, 178–9, 179 Sakhawat Memorial Girls’ School 74, 79, 82, 84, 86 Sakuntala 163 Salamatullah Jairajpuri, Maulana 38 Saliha Begam 4 Sangari, Kumkum 124 Sangli, Rani of 80 Sankernath, Pandit 50 Sanskrit 34, 91 Sarbuland Jang, Begam 153, 162, 165 Sarda Act 153–4 Sardar Dulhan 162, 208n94 Sarkar, Mahua 144, 166 Satara 20 sati 126, 146, 155 Sayyids 47, 189n10 Schimmel, Annemarie 39 School for Mothers 125, 132–4, 140, 142, 143 schools 7, 9, 11, 13–14, 22, 23, 38, 41, 51, 56, 59, 73, 74, 75, 78, 80, 81–2, 83, 84, 87, 89–90, 91, 92, 93, 95–6, 98, 99, 106, 108, 111, 112, 114, 118, 119, 122, 125, 128, 133, 149, 158, 159, 169, 177, 181, 200n59, 209n139; see also Alexandra Nobles’ School; Asfia School; Asfia Technical School; Birjisia Kania Patshala; Central Technical Institute (Bombay); Darul Uloom (Hyderabad); Faizunnessa Girls’ School; Habibia Technical School; Madrasa Ahmedia; Madrasa Bilqisia; Madrasa-iAliya; Madrasa-i-Jahangiria; Madrasa-iSultaniya; madrasas; Madrasat ul-Banat; Mahbubiya Girls’ School; Muslim Girls’ School (Lucknow); Nampalli Girls’ School; Nizam College; School for Mothers; Sehore Girls’ School; Sehore High School; Sikandaria Girls’ School; Suhrawardy School; Sulaimania High School; Sultania Girls’ School; Tarbiyatgah-i-Banat; universities; Victoria School Sculpthorpe, Mrs 90 Sehore 41, 46, 62, 81, 87, 94, 114, 126, 130 Sehore Girls’ School 81 Sehore High School 81, 94 Seva Sadan 163 Sha‘rawi, Huda 10, 157–8, 167–8 Shafi family 102, 113; see also Muhammad

Shafi, Mian; Shah Din, Mian; Shahnawaz, Begam Jahan Ara Shah Din, Mian Shah Jahan Begam 4, 9, 13, 32, 43, 44, 56, 170, 177; administration of 31–4, 43, 54, 70; as architectural patron 35–6, 113; as cultural and literary patron 34–5, 180; and education 29, 39, 41, 57, 90, 94, 111; first marriage of 27; and health 41–2, 43, 126; and purdah 5, 31–3, 36, 41–2, 43, 61, 126; relations with daughter 19, 28, 29–31, 34, 48; second marriage of 21, 30, 31, 37, 40; and socio-religious reform 37–42, 56, 57; writings of 19, 34–5, 42, 151 Shaharyar Dulhan 48, 108, 114 Shahnawaz, Begam Jahan Ara 113, 121, 148–9, 165, 166 Shahzad Masih 16–17; see also Bourbons, Bhopal Shaikhs 47, 189n10 Shajarat ul-Durr 172 Sham-i-anjuman (Shah Jahan) 35 Shareefah Hamid Ali, Begam, 153, 165 Shariat Application Act 175 sharif see ashraf Sharifi family 124, 128; see also Ajmal Khan, Hakim Shaukat Ali 68, 160 Shi‘ism 37, 47, 48; see also Bohras Shibli Numani, Maulana 59–60, 102–3, 202n89, 212n65 shrines 39; of Khwaja Muinuddin Chishti at Ajmer 39; of Nizamuddin Auliya 39 Siddiq Hasan, Sayyid 21–2, 30, 31–2, 33–4, 35, 37–41, 56, 148 Sikandar Begam 4, 9, 13, 15, 18–29, 30, 31, 48, 52, 65, 66, 169–70, 172, 177; administration of 4, 18–20, 28, 31, 36, 43, 54, 65, 71, 92, 107, 172; as cultural patron 20, 28; and education 22–3, 25–7, 28, 29, 43, 90, 94–5; and 1857 rebellion 4, 19–20, 25; and purdah 5, 23–5, 24; and socio-religious reform 21–5, 28, 31, 37, 43, 57, 95, 180 Sikandaria Girls’ School 87, 89, 99 Silk Letters Conspiracy 66 Simmonds, Miss F.M. 162 Singh, Hira 45 Sinha, Mrinalini 164 Sinha, Mrs 159 Sita 163 Soha Ali Khan 179 Sonia Nishat Amin 7 Sorabji, Cornelia 157, 158, 165 Southborough Franchise Committee 168, 170–1 Southborough, Lord 170 Spirit of Islam, The (Syed Ameer Ali) 102, 146, 210n10, 219n11

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IN D E X Spivak, Gayatri 224n3 St John’s Ambulance Association 133, 156 Stridharma (Madras) 74, 164 Subh-i-fulshan (Shah Jahan) 35 Suffiyya Girls’ School 23 suffrage 55, 132, 144, 145, 167–73, 175, 178 Sufism 16, 21, 38–9; see also shrines Sughra Humayon Mirza 11, 107, 112, 117–18, 119, 162, 164, 175, 213n92 Suhrawardy Begam 157 Suhrawardy School 86 Sulaiman Jahan 29 Sulaimania High School 22, 41, 94–5 Sultan Jahan Begam 4, 7, 10–11, 12, 179–81, 195n66; accession of 4, 9, 42–3, 44, 45, 57, 60, 126; administration of 5, 9, 43, 44, 45, 53–8, 60–2; and the British 62–70, 67; and her court 53–62; as dowager 60, 71, 97, 115, 121–2, 142, 153, 165–6, 178; education of 9, 13, 14, 25–7, 28–9, 43; and education 5, 9, 28, 29, 41, 55, 56, 57–8, 63, 73–99, 176–7, 178, 181; and her forebearers 9, 13–43; and health 9–10, 41–2, 61, 79, 124–43, 177, 181; marriage of 27–8, 30, 40, 48; and purdah 9, 15, 32–3, 42, 61–2, 64–5, 65, 66, 71, 72, 82–3, 87, 98, 100–23, 126–7, 128, 131, 133–4, 141, 153, 155, 156–8, 159, 169, 170, 177; and relations with her mother 19, 28, 29–31, 34, 48; and her subjects 46–53; and succession dispute 69–70, 96, 120, 165, 173, 204n142; and women’s rights 5, 10, 15, 40, 42, 72, 75–6, 97, 104, 105, 106, 114, 117, 119, 144–75, 176, 177–8, 181 Sultana’s Dream (Rokeya Sakhawat Hossain) 75, 79, 101 Sultania College project 95 Sultania Girls’ School 82–6, 87, 90, 91, 93, 94, 97, 98, 110, 162 Sultania Muhammadan Ladies’ Hall 159 Sultania Zenana Hospital see Lady Lansdowne Hospital Sunnism 37, 38, 47, 48 Tagore, Sharmila 179 Tahzib un-Niswan (Lahore) 73, 111, 112, 114, 128, 149 Tahzib un-Niswan wa Tarbiyat ul-Insan (Shah Jahan) 42 Taj ul-Ikbal 37, 39, 40 Taj ul-kalam (Shah Jahan) 35 Tarajim-i-‘ulama-i-hadith-i-Hind (Abu Yahya Imam Khan Naushaharawi) 37–8 Tarbiyatgah-i-Banat 82, 205n26 Tarjuman-i-Wahabiyyat (Sayyid Siddiq Hasan) 33 Tata, Lady Dorab 165 Taylor, Katherine 97 Tazkira-i-Baqi (Sultan Jahan) 27

Tcheshme Hanim 23 temperance 51, 54 textbooks 14, 80, 82, 94 Thompson, Sir John 69 Tibbi Conference see All-India Ayurvedic and Tibbia Conference Tonk 20; Nawab of 82 Travancore 171 travel: in India 31, 38, 48, 64, 84, 106–8, 121, 156; out of India 16, 25, 29, 105–9, 120–1, 181; and purdah 100, 101, 104, 105, 106–9, 118, 120–1, 122; writings on 5, 21, 25, 105–9, 117, 118, 120, 139, 211n40; see also hajj Trip to Europe, A (Maimoona Sultaan) 108–9, 139 Turkey 21, 58, 118, 157; education in 25–6, 41, 87–8, 91; and the First World War 49, 51, 66, 68; and khilafat 68–9; reform in 76, 108–9, 148, 161; women in 25–6, 87–8, 108–9, 157, 167, 222n12 Turkish language 21, 34 Tyabji clan 59, 102; see also Fyzee, Atiya; Fyzee, Zehra; Janjira, Nazli, Begam of; Tyabji, Badruddin Tyabji, Badruddin 59, 160 ‘ulama 6, 21, 35, 40, 42, 57, 58, 59, 73, 76, 102, 118; in Bhopal 16, 19, 21–2, 25, 28, 37–8, 52, 56–7, 171, 180; see also Abdul Aziz, Shah; Abdul Bari, Maulana; Abul Kalam Azad, Maulana; Ahl-i-hadith; Ahmad of Rai Bareilly, Sayyid; Ahmad Riza Khan, Maulana; Ashraf Ali Thanawi, Maulana; Deoband; Farangi Mahall; Jamaluddin Khan, Maulvi; Khalil Ahmad, Maulana; Mahmud Hassan, Maulana; Muhammad Islam, Hafiz; Nadwatul ‘Ulama; Nazir Husain, Maulana; Salamatullah Jairajpuri, Maulana; Shibli Numani, Maulana; Waliullah, Shah Umm-i-Khalid 103 Union Carbide 181 United Provinces 27, 48, 50, 86, 114, 145, 159, 161; see also Agra; Allahabad; Kanpur; Lucknow universities 78, 110, 168; Allahabad University 84, 95, 110; Calcutta University 41; Cambridge University 11, 93, 95, 124; Jamia Millia Islamia 178–9; Madras University 78; National Women’s University (Poona) 78; Osmania University (Hyderabad) 82; Oxford University 58, 112; see also Aligarh Muslim University; Muslim University movement un-Nisa (Hyderabad) 117, 213n92 Urdu 3, 7, 12, 42, 47, 59, 83, 115, 147, 158, 212n65; as court language 19; journalism in 7, 10, 14, 35, 38, 51, 70, 73, 98, 100, 111, 112,

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IN D E X 124, 144, 149, 163, 175, 176; as language of instruction 21, 22–3, 74–5, 77, 79, 80, 81, 82, 84, 130, 133, 158; lessons in 14, 77, 79, 81, 82, 84, 88, 91, 95, 180; poetry in 1, 20, 34–5; translation to and from 21; writings in 4, 8, 10, 11, 14, 42, 75, 79, 80, 100, 102, 195n65 Vaid, Sudesh 124 Van Hollen, Cecilia 126, 132 veiling and seclusion 1–2, 5, 12, 14, 23, 59, 100–1, 102, 106–7, 181, 210n10, 211n12; and education 9, 22–3, 75, 81, 82–3, 85, 87, 90, 98, 101, 103, 110, 111–14, 118–19, 121–2, 123, 126, 177; and Girl Guides 115–16; and health 1, 41–2, 110, 118, 126–7, 128, 133–4, 136, 141, 177; and Maimoona Sultaan 108, 120–1, 122; and Qudsia 4, 5, 17–18, 43; and Shah Jahan 5, 31–3, 36, 41–2, 43, 126; and Sikandar 5, 23–5, 24; and suffrage 169, 171; and Sultan Jahan 9, 15, 33, 42, 61–2, 64–5, 65, 66, 71, 72, 82–3, 87, 98, 100–23, 126–7, 128, 131, 133–4, 141, 153, 155, 156–8, 159, 169, 170, 177; and Sultan Jahan’s granddaughters 120–1, 122, 180; and women’s organizations 9, 100, 112–15, 116–17, 118–20, 121–2, 123, 133–4, 153, 156–8, 177, 181, 221n74 Verma, Rajendra 8 Victoria Memorial Scholarship Fund 126, 130, 134 Victoria School 23, 41, 90, 91 Victoria, Queen-Empress 20, 25, 42, 167, 168–9, 172 Villiers-Stuart, Mrs Constance Mary 168, 170 Waheeda Begam Yaqub 160 Wahid Jahan Begam 73, 85–6, 160

Waliullah, Shah 21, 26, 37, 39–40, 103 waqf 51, 92, 156, 181 Webb, Muhammad Alexander Russell 109 Wheeler, Mrs Margaret 87, 89 widow remarriage 40–1, 147, 155, 174, 192n3 Widows’ Industrial School see Asfia Technical School Wilkinson, Lancelot 17 William Bentinck, Lord 17 Willingdon Health Scheme 128 Willingdon, Lady 88 Willoughby-Osborne, Lieutenant-Colonel 24 Woking, Shah Jahan Mosque at 36, 53, 57, 109, 120, 204n142; Islamic Review 109; Woking Muslim Mission 57, 151, 201n75; see also Kamaluddin, Khwaja Women’s Hockey Association 179 Women’s Indian Association (WIA) 74, 145, 164, 171 Woodsmall, Ruth Frances 1, 134, 142 Yemen 21–2, 180 yunani tibb 27–8, 58, 61, 124, 125, 127–9, 131–2, 135, 137, 138, 140, 141, 142, 215n23; see also hakims and hakima Zaheda Begam 59 Zainab Bi 83 Zamana-i-Tahsil (Atiya Fyzee) 106–7 Zayn ul-Abidin ul-Hudaydi 22 Zebunnissa (Lahore) 213n92 Zeenat Begam 4, 15 Zenana Poor House 94 Zeyneb Hanoum 167, 222n112 Zil us-Sultan (Bhopal) 10, 12, 60, 73, 100, 112, 122, 124, 144, 212n65 Zirvi, Saqyb 188n4 Zulfiqar Ali Khan, Nawab Sir 159

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