There is certainly a dialectical relationship between the private majlis and the public julūs that is not necessarily condoned by orthodoxy but is pragmatically maintained by the masses in popular practice. For example, during the ten days a participant may attend a number of majālis. While at a majlis, one may listen to the recitation of mars̲i̅yah corresponding to the historic events commemorated on that day. There will be intense ritualized weeping and mātam (breast-beating), followed by a period of silence. After the majlis disperses, the individual may participate in one of numerous public processions for a while and then attend yet other majālis. This pattern continues for the duration of the observance. There is no incongruity here. The individual can still experience the suffering of the martyr through participation in both types of events. The drama, in other words, is not acted out on a stage in India but is nevertheless reenacted and experienced through the varied actions of the community of believers, even if other public activities surrounding the event verge on the carnivalesque. The mars̲i̅yah recitations during the majālis and the communal processions that occur in varying degrees of intensity throughout the first ten days of Muharram are two central aspects of such performative action, and there is an oscillating tension between them.
Let us now move on to a brief survey of various muḥarram activities. By using specific ethnographic examples and travelers’ accounts, I wish to underscore the interaction of public and private domains of observance as well as the multisectarian nature of the phenomenon in India. The literature upon which I draw is both historical and modern, but I focus on accounts from the mid-nineteenth century to the third decade of the twentieth century because this is the period when Indian indentured laborers were uprooted to various islands under British control.
A South Asian Muḥarram Montage
Throughout most of the Indian subcontinent, the observances begin with the sighting of the new moon on the evening before the first of Muharram. In many areas they continue until the eighth of Rabi al-awwal, which is said to be the day when survivors of the carnage were released by Yazid.24 Most of the important activities, however, occur during the first ten days of Muharram, on the twelfth of the month, and on the fortieth (cahallum), which falls on the twentieth of Safar.25 There does not seem to be a set date to begin work on the ta‘zi̅yahs.26 In some regions, work on them continues throughout the year, whereas those with inner bamboo frames that are reused year after year need only to have the outer wrapping replaced, which is normally made of layers of colored paper, mica, and tinsel. In the latter scenario, communities can afford to wait until the last days to complete their ta‘zi̅yahs. The length of time devoted to the construction depends on the complexity of design and the object’s size. It is believed that the spirits of Hasan and Husayn enter into the ta‘zi̅yahs as they are being built, infusing the structures with significant curative powers.27 The spirits remain in the objects until the symbolic time of Husayn’s death, after which the spirits leave the objects. From this time onward, they are no longer considered sacred and “may be kicked about and anything done with them.”28 In fact, in some areas, small coffins (tābūts) are placed inside of the ta‘zi̅yahs to symbolize the spirits, and in Baluchistan, Pakistan, women even make small effigies representing the two martyrs out of cloth to place inside the coffins.29
The size and shape of the ta‘zi̅yahs vary from place to place, but they all consist of a wooden or bamboo base and frame, a tomb chamber, and in some places a central dome representing the one on Husayn’s actual tomb in Karbala. They are essentially three-tiered structures, but occasionally they can be as high as six tiers. John Hollister records one being twenty-seven feet tall.30 I will provide fairly elaborate descriptions of the Trinidadian structures and the process of their construction in Chapter 5 but quote here from Ja’far Sharif’s 1920s account to give the reader a sense of their form and design: “It is usually covered with a network of paper neatly cut, and it is sometimes decorated on the back with plates of mica (talq). It is also ornamented with coloured paper formed into various devices and has tinsel fringes, the whole structure surmounted by a dome which is often contrived so as to move around at the slightest breath of air. Its beauty appears when lighted up within and without. In shape it is square, its sides varying in height.… Some instead of covering it with a paper network make strings of glass bangles (bangri̅), with white paper flowers, and behind they tie saffron-coloured cloth or paste red paper.”31
John Oman provides another impressionistic description from the Panjab in the following early twentieth-century account, in which he freely imposes his European aesthetic sensibilities Elaborating on the imaginary nature of the designs inspired by Husayn’s actual tomb, he states:
“[T]here were many of considerable size, others quite diminutive; but all bright and glittering with tinsel, mica, and coloured paper; some were quaint, some pretty, and some decidedly grotesque.… One of these tazias might be merely a tower of four or five stories built on a light bamboo framework. Another more elaborate and bizarre in form would have the appearance of a strange composite being, with a woman’s face and the body of a peacock, bearing a house on its back. Some tazias were supported upon winged horses with long ostrich-like necks, surmounted with human faces of feminine type. One was borne on the head of a winged angel, who, by means of a simple contrivance manipulated from behind, was made to beat his breast in a rather ridiculous fashion.32
Obvious biases aside, Oman’s description gives us a flavor of the variety of structures built for this occasion. His description implies that the ta‘zi̅yahs are not identical replicas of Husayn’s tomb, but rather artistic renderings constructed in competition with other builders’ creations (see Figure 3).
Figure 3. A reverse mica painting (c. 1850–60) by an anonymous artist from Patna, Bihar, depicting a muḥarram procession with a variety of ta‘zi̅yahs, ‘alams, and sipars. By permission of the British Library. Add. Or. 401.
Since all Muslims observe the death of Husayn, both the Sunni and Shi‘ah construct cenotaphs in many parts of India, as in the city of Banaras. This is not to say that everyone agrees on the manners and methods to be employed in observing the occasion correctly. Nevertheless, even Hindus venerate the structures because of their healing powers, and some go so far as to view Husayn himself as a deva (deity).33 There is even mention of Husayni Brahmins in the ethnographic record.34 A difference, however, exists in the reasons why the Shi‘ah and the Sunni observe the death, as well as in the manner of observance. Many members of the Shi‘i community, for instance, hold that the Sunni are directly responsible for the murder, and it is common practice among them to curse (tabarra’) the first three caliphs ritually as an integral part of the observances. On the other hand, there is a popular Sunni belief that it was actually the Shi‘ah themselves who carried out the deed.35 Thus, in many locations, Sunnis counter the curses by performing daily bayān (declaration) each evening from the first through the tenth, praising the good qualities of the first three caliphs in order to assert and justify the Sunni position on the interpretation of the historical