The pankah and hookahwallah

Sun, Jun 15 12:40 AM

You found him fanning away the heat from over your head in the narrow lanes of the old quarter of Delhi. He was Khadim Mukhtiar Ahmed, the bearded fan bearer of a hereditary profession.

Mukhtiar was well past the biblical span of three score years and ten, which made him unfit for the usual sort of work a man would do. But he had to feed himself and short of seeking alms, he went about fanning the populace on unbearably hot days.

Mukhtiar made his appearance only in the evening when the sun was about to set and the faithful were on their way to the mosque for the Maghrib prayers. Dressed in a long green shirt, a tattered turban on his head and his pyjamas all crumpled up with long use, the funny looking man accosted you with a long pole in hand to which was fixed a huge fan of ornamental cloth, the kind that used to be pulled in the nawabi and colonial homes when electricity was unknown.

Mukhtiar waved the fan above you as a gesture imparting comfort on a hot day; he salaamed, inquired about your welfare, called down a blessing from heaven and expected you to tip him if you were in the mood for it, before moving on to the next passerby. What was the idea behind this sudden tamasha on a warm summer's eve? First and foremost, it was a way of keeping the pot boiling at home and secondly, it was the maintenance of a tradition which was suffering its last pangs before dying out.

That was what happened to the hookah-bearer, who used to go about with a big hookah through street and lane, wishing you the time of day, putting the hookah stem in your mouth and as you inhaled the fragrant smoke, made small talk in chaste Urdu before pocketing whatever you could spare, and then passing on the pleasures of the hookah to the next man who felt the need for a smoke in the bazaar. The hookah-bearer is no more around and Delhi is the poorer for it.

But the ceremonial sweeper is still there, the one who suddenly appears as though from nowhere, dusts the ground in front of you with a broom made of peacock feathers and asks for a tip. The pankahwallah and the hookah-bearer were remnants of a bygone age who managed to keep going despite the odds.

They represented an era of courtesy and polite speech and also personified in a way the spirit of the sufi who saw the divine in all things, especially human beings. Now, jostling and dirty looks are all one encounters in the street.

But even 30 years ago, things were not so bad. People of the older generation managed to keep up some of the traditions that they had inherited from their ancestors.

The craze for modernization saw to it that the mantle of the pankahwallah and hookah-bearer did not fall on the younger lot.

Inside News

Editor's picks