Steeped in tradition

“The ones made out of cardboard are more popular with my clientele,” he says. A tailor by profession, Hussain begins making tazias soon after Eidul Azha so that he has enough supply to cater to his customers. His structures look simple enough: four cardboard squares glued on top of each other in receding sizes and a pointed dome fastened at the top to give it a semblance of a mosque — which is not necessarily a replica of a shrine. Hussain then pastes the edifice with shining golden and silver paper, and tinsel in red, blue and green cutwork designs serve as decoration.

“I use moulds for every piece that I cut since even a little miscalculation could disbalance the entire structure,” he says, pointing towards his creations in sizes as small as one foot, to as high as four feet. He uses a special glue which is a combination of flour, liquid glue and copper sulphate, which is a mild poison and protects the tazia from being eaten by rats.

Hussain’s clientele is pretty regular, since most people submerge the tazia later, and need new ones almost every Muharram.

Across the city in North Karachi, a craftsman is busy giving final touches to a replica (shabih) of Imam Hussain’s shrine. Carved out of German silver and brass, this masterpiece speaks volumes of the glory of the original as craftsmen take pains to add as many details as possible to this three-by-four-foot miniature model.

“The entire structure is hand-crafted,” claims Umair Homaey to whose shop the replica was brought to later in Soldier Bazaar. Shias mostly refer to tazias as shabih (replica), roza (shrine) or zareeh, since in most cases they are miniature copies of the shrines of the Holy Imams. And it’s no easy task. Every shrine is designed differently, hence there is no one set of moulds.

“We design the model keeping the original in mind, and mould it accordingly. Some shrines have silver domes others are made of solid gold. Similarly, the minarets are positioned differently,” explains Homaey, “Sheets of the required material are shaped according to the design by hand and every part of the replica is carved with care and attention — the filigree and intricate calligraphy demands expertise. Once completed, it is polished and further propped by electroplating. In the end, the shabih is ‘lacquer painted’ for the shiny, glossy look and to protect it from rusting.”

The tazias brought out by sunni Barelvis are just as easy to discern and no less glamorous, courtesy their elaborate design and gilded finish. A tradition steeped in history, tazia makers over the centuries have borrowed designs from various cultures. Generally, wood, lead, brass and copper are used in its creation and there’s no particular size that one adheres to. They are either octagonal or square in shape; the skeleton carved out of wood. The base, called takht (a hollowed cubic structure), is placed on a charpoy. It serves as a foundation for further storeys which add height to the tazia; a number of mehrabs (concave arches) complement its beauty. On top of that, palki (palanquin), saiwan (canopy), dome and chand-tara (moon and star) complete the picture.

Reminiscing about her guru brings tears to Sujata’s eyes and she shares, “Our personal relationship was never a barrier for our guru-shishya training. He was a respected person and could demand anything but he always made things so easy for me. I remember once I had to enact a scene where I had to place my leg on his head and chest.

I was hesitant and considered it a curse! I was so nervous and tense but he just said one line, ‘You are Ramachandra the character and I am the boatman. You are not Sujata.’ This is what a guru does, moulds his students.”

On the personal front, Sujata believes it was only because of her father-in-law that she could continue dancing. “After I delivered my daughter, he did everything for her, right from bathing to massaging the infant. In fact, he prayed to have a granddaughter.”

Her animated and emotional discussion about her guru gets us to ask — why does this relationship between a guru and shishya lack today? “You see, not everyone gets a guru like what I had. You can safely call Kelucharan Mohapatra a guru. Today, every young dancer wants to be called a guru.

But are they as knowledgeable as the earlier gurus? They can be teachers but guru is a really strong definition which can’t be used for anyone. Even as a guru, you need to evolve and update yourself. Today I am crossing 40 and realise what all guruji did even at the age of 80.

If you cannot do half as much as what they did at that age, you have no right to call yourself a guru.” She adds how today’s generation lacks the faith or patience. “They are in a hurry and want everything quick. They want their guru/teacher to promote them. They want returns.

But it does not work that way. Indian classical dance forms is a treasure box. If you take from it you have to refill it too. It is a never ending learning process. You have to continue to create and evolve.”