  The Communalization and Disintegration of Urdu in Anita Desai’s In Custody1 Introduction T  of Urdu in India is an extremely layered one which needs to be examined historically, politically and ideologically in order to grasp the various forces which have shaped its current perception as a sectarian language adopted by Indian Muslims, marking their separation from the national collectivity. In this article I wish to explore these themes through the lens of literature, specifically an Indian English novel about Urdu entitled In Custody by Anita Desai. Writing in the early s, Aijaz Ahmad was of the opinion that the teaching of English literature has cre- ated a body of English-speaking Indians who represent “the only” over- arching national community with a common language, able to imagine themselves across the disparate nation as a “national literary intelligentsia” with “a shared body of knowledge, shared presumptions and a shared knowledge of mutual exchange” (, ).2 Arguably both Desai and Ahmad belong to this “intelligentsia” through the postcolonial secular English connection, but equally they are implicated in the discursive structures of cultural hegemony in civil society (Viswanathan , –; Rajan , –). However, it is not my intention to re-inscribe an authentic myth of origin about Indianness through linguistic associations, 1An earlier version of this essay was first presented as a paper at the Minori- ties, Education and Language in st Century Indian Democracy—The Case of Urdu with Special Reference to Dr. Zakir Husain, Late President of India Con- ference held in Delhi, February . 2See also chapter  “‘Indian Literature’: Notes Toward the Definition of a Category,” in the same work, –.  A Y •  but to critically assess the value of Anita Desai’s intervention in a com- munally charged Hindi-Urdu debate. The key questions I raise in this essay are about the kind of cultural memory Desai is constructing in her text, and how this depiction can be read in relation to the actual machinations of Indian politics with regard to the language question. As a successful author, writing for an interna- tional publishing market, she is invested with a certain power to imaginatively represent an “authentic” India. While she is not a writer who bombards us with an epic style narration, purporting to offer “the great Indian novel,” her exploration of individual identities and self- formations work in a subtle and problematic way, creating instead minia- tures, and guiding the reader’s responses through a combination of omniscience, internal focalization, indirect speech and symbolic tropes. In Custody, short-listed for the Booker Prize in , can retrospec- tively be read as a literary narration of the communalization and disinte- gration of Urdu in post-Partition India. The year in which it was published was coincidentally the same year that saw the death of an Urdu literary legend, the master lyricist Fai¤ A√mad Fai¤ who stirred the hearts of millions with his haunting melodies and sustained hope for many with his romantic vision of a return to a beloved homeland. Symbolizing optimism, his poetry revived disheartened nationalists with its belief in a destination which had as yet not been realized, a desire that marked even his most pessimistic poem “¿ub√-e ¥z≥dµ: August ” (“Freedom’s Dawn”) with its important ideological rejection of the “pock-marked dawn” of freedom from colonial rule: The time for the liberation of heart and mind Has not come as yet Continue your arduous journey This is not your destination (In Hasan , ) It is interesting that Fai¤, stylistically wedded to the traditional form of the ghazal, was concerned with forging themes of modernity in his poetic message, constructing a new direction for his Urdu listeners and readers, while Desai, working with a modernist narrative, takes it back toward a sensibility rooted in tradition and premodern aristocracy. Her  • T A  U S idea of Urdu is that it is trapped in an aristocratic lineage, a theme which she also touches on in her earlier novel Clear Light of Day ().3 Desai’s perception of Urdu as an artifact of Old India and its communal heritage are key features of her story. One of the narrative devices she uses is that of cultural memory and this, in connection with the theme of Urdu, is inevitably tied to the memory of separation and Partition. Here it is important to make the distinction that whereas Fai¤ is still looking for national liberation in “¿ub√-e ¥z≥dµ,” Desai is analyzing Urdu as the cul- tural object of a lived experience in post-Partition India. Later in his career, Fai¤ was commissioned by Zulfiqar Ali Bhutto’s government in post-Partition Pakistan to conduct an “official” search for Pakistani cul- ture and nationalism. His findings and ruminations were later collected and published in a volume entitled, Pakist≥nµ Kal±ar aur Qaumµ TashakhkhuΩ kµ Tal≥sh (Pakistani Culture and the Search for National Char- acter) (). In that volume, it is evident that Fai¤ was driven by an Arnoldian sensibility toward culture, looking to preserve “the best that has been thought and said” in his search for a representative model of a collective Pakistani national consciousness (Eagleton , ). Desai’s fiction, on the other hand, demystifies the idea of a national collectivity and looks toward the arts and the way of life of individuals as distinctive cultural representations. Her constructions of cultural memory are marked by nostalgia for the past, and a kind of closeness to the Romantic tradition with its “idealizing of the “folk,” of vital subcultures buried deep within its own society” (ibid., ). Desai’s narration of Urdu’s tragedy is mediated through the eyes of an urban dweller in New Delhi struck by the lyrical romance of Old Delhi Urdu poetry, a remnant of a premodern cultural tradition that re- memorizes the old city. In an interview with Magda Costa, Anita Desai responded to the suggestion that In Custody is a representation of the decay of Urdu literature as follows: I was trying to portray the world of Urdu poets. Living in Delhi I was always surrounded by the sound of Urdu poetry, which is mostly recited. Nobody reads it, but one goes to recitations. It was very much the voice of North India. But although there is such a reverence for Urdu poetry, the 3See Part  which details Raja’s attraction to Urdu poetry, his heroic charac- ter and his admiration for the neighbor and landlord, Hyder Ali, who encourages his interest in Urdu. A Y •  fact that most Muslims left India to go to Pakistan meant that most schools and universities of Urdu were closed. So that it’s a language I don’t think is going to survive in India…. There are many Muslims and they do write in Urdu; but it has a kind of very artificial existence. People are not going to study Urdu in school and college anymore, so who are going to be their readers? Where is the audience? (Costa ) Aijaz Ahmad, tracing the history of Urdu language and literature from  to , describes three aspects in the breakup and redistribu- tion of the Urdu-writing community that changed the perception of Urdu after Partition. First was the migration and resettlement of religious communities across the newly-drawn borders; second was the increased communalization of Urdu as a Muslim language, its implementation as a national language in Pakistan and its decreasing status as a language of “minority right” and “Muslim interest” in India; and finally the Indian government’s abandonment of Hindustani in favor of Hindi as the offi- cial language. In Ahmad’s estimation the loss of Hindustani as a recog- nized lingua franca was a major event because it had served as a “living link between Urdu and Hindi which now became more and more distant from each other, especially in their written forms” (Ahmad , –). In postcolonial India—specifically Uttar Pradesh where the mother- tongue Urdu-speaker has been marginalized through a lack of representa- tion in the linguistic federation of states—Urdu is indeed perceived as an endangered language by the minority who are literate in it. For Ahmad, the political nation and the cultural community are the two ultimate “framing realities” that dominate post-Partition Urdu liter- ary production in India and Pakistan. With the absence of a middle- ground Hindustani, the communal perception of Urdu as a Muslim lan- guage has become stronger. This religious separatism saturates the verse of a contemporary Urdu poet Rashµd Ban≥rsµ from Varanasi: We understood a lot about the prejudices of this age Today languages too are Brahmins and Shaikhs? We don’t understand If Urdu too is under blame for being an outsider Then whose homeland is India? We don’t understand. (Quoted in Lee , )  • T A  U S There are interesting similarities between Desai, Ahmad and Rashµd Ban≥rsµ, all speaking of Urdu but in varying tones and differing forms. Desai’s personal pessimistic view of Urdu’s survival in India is tied to the fact of mass Muslim migration, Ahmad sees migration as a contributory factor to the break up of the Urdu-writing community, and Ban≥rsµ articulates the frustration that comes from Urdu’s marginalized status and its perception as a migrant’s tongue which makes him an outsider in his own homeland. The Urdu that was the “voice of North India” as Desai remembers it and its survival are indeed major concerns for Urdu tradi- tionalists, and while the concerns are valid they reinforce a specific idea of Urdu and squeeze out its identity as a lingua franca. The limitation felt by poets such as Ban≥rsµ, who cannot escape the reflected cultural memory of Urdu, is recognized and reimagined in a novel such as In Custody. If a common historical moment is to be mentioned which changes the idea of Urdu in India then Partition is one such moment. Sunil Khilnani in his insightful study, The Idea of India, has argued that Partition is a tangible memory on the Subcontinent around which the inevitable disappointments of modern politics can gather.… Partition is the unspeakable sadness at the heart of the idea of India: a memento mori that what made India possible also profoundly diminished the integral value of the idea. (, –) For Khilnani the idea of India is ultimately a political one because in his view the history of India since  is marked by a continuing faith in democratic procedures and is expressed through party politics; Indians have in the past been inspired by the charisma of the Congress Party, and more recently by regional, caste-based and communal political groupings. In this respect the evolving modern nation is still disrupted by hierarchi- cal stratifications and—in the sometimes fraught relationship between Hindu and Muslim—the memories of its ruptured birth. In Desai’s book, when the protagonist Deven, a lecturer in Hindi, applies in person for one week’s teaching leave in order to conduct an interview with the legendary Urdu poet Nur Shahjahanabadi, his head of department, Trivedi, meets the request with a virulent, short-tempered and communally charged reaction: “I’ll get you transferred to your beloved Urdu department. I won’t have Muslim toadies in my department, you’ll ruin my boys with your A Y •  Muslim ideas, your Urdu language. I’ll complain to the Principal, I’ll warn the RSS [Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh] you are a traitor.” (, ) Trivedi’s reactionary stance encapsulates the culture of fear and paranoia that surround Hindi and Urdu speakers in a national climate where lan- guage is ironically both the carrier of religious identity and the mark of national loyalty. Trivedi’s utterance, long before the destruction of the Babri Mosque in Ayodhya, has an ominous ring to it. With its evocation of the RSS, it can retrospectively be seen to anticipate the current Indian political climate, where his voice returns to haunt us in the Bombay riots, the violent eruptions in Gujarat, and the continuing Kashmir crisis. The Hindi-Urdu Divide The knotty issue of national language has been a topic of much scholarly deliberation in historiographical and sociological studies of the Indian nation. Several researchers have drawn our attention to the contentious fates of Hindustani, Urdu, and Hindi in nineteenth- and twentieth-cen- tury India.4 Such linguistic differences can be read as marking an impor- tant distinction from what Benedict Anderson has theorized as an integrated “Imagined Community” coming together through a common language via the rise of a homogenizing print capitalism (see Anderson ; Bhabha ). These studies have revealed a multilingual nation which cannot comfortably assimilate its diverse linguistic groups. Urdu came to prominence in the middle-to-late eighteenth century at the same time as the ousting of Persian from the courts by the British and its replacement with the official language of government, English. Gener- ally, in eastern and northern India, Bengali and Urdu remained in use in the lower levels of administration and judiciary, while in the northern state of Panjab, the British imposed English and Urdu “as the languages of government” (Bose and Jalal , –). On an informal basis they relied on Hindustani/Urdu as a lingua franca in North India, while offi- cial recognition was accorded to the vernaculars on  September .5 4This is reflected in the monographs of Shackle and Snell (), Rai (), Brass (), and King (). 5Urdu was recognized in Bihar, the United Provinces, Avadh and the Panjab while in the south it was patronized by the Nizams of Hyderabad.  • T A  U S The Muslim reformer and early modernizer Sayyid Ahmad Khan was deeply influential in instigating linguistic reform and advocating cultural change for his community, however, his interventions for the cause of Urdu with the colonial government suffered setbacks in Bihar in  and in the United Provinces in  under pressure from a rising middle-class Hindu lobby (Shackle and Snell , ). According to Francis Robinson, the proposed replacement of Persian script by Devanagari led by a Hindu deputation in , and the British government’s favorable response to it, marked a key moment in the increasing sense of separatism amongst Indian Muslims (, -). The historical perspective of Urdu’s decline has been directly linked to Hindi’s rise by Jyotirindra Das Gupta who charts the national move- ment alongside language associations in pre-Partition India (). He asserts that after  the Hindi movements pressed for the teaching of Hindi universally in all primary and secondary schools in North India. It was in the northwestern provinces that the Hindi movement displayed a virulent stance toward Urdu. The constant refrain of the public petitions was that Urdu was an alien language. A petition signed by  Hindi graduates and undergraduates declared Urdu to be ‘an alien and upstart language’ while another petition described Urdu as a ‘hybrid production … forced upon us by our former rulers.’ (ibid., ) In Gupta’s view, “a large part of the language conflict in Uttar Pradesh is influenced by the memories of past conflict transmitted to the Hindu and Muslim communities by the cultural and political leaders (ibid., ).”6 For Gupta these conflictual linguistic associations can be historically 6While the Hindi petitions gathered strength, there was only one petition, signed by a small number of people, submitted in favor of Urdu in the north- western provinces. As this shows, language petitions in the nineteenth century were becoming communally charged and reflected the divisive forces of language and religion on the communities. The culture of language petitions survived in Independent India and the late Dr. Zakir Husain’s act of collecting . million signatures from the Urdu-speaking people in Uttar Pradesh in  supporting a petition asking the President to save Urdu under Article  of the Constitution proves a case in point. For a critical comment on politicians taking on the Urdu cause in Uttar Pradesh, see Latifi , –. A Y •  linked to the shortsightedness of small élites whose community con- sciousness dictated their group loyalty in the transitional period from a traditional multilingual society to a modern nation. Thus in the early nationalist phase in India “leaders rarely drew a distinction between the categories of common language, national language and official language” (ibid., ). For David Lelyveld too, sociological perspectives are paramount in examining the organic history of languages such as Hindi and Urdu, rather than an abstract theorizing which focuses on, “who gets to speak, who is allowed to listen, which topics and settings are appropriate to which linguistic codes” (, ). He suggests that in attempting to understand this linguistic code we may come closer toward grasping the unique formula which delicately balances the formation of self-conscious identity against the facts of power, competition and exploitation. To put his theory to the test, Lelyveld examines Gandhi’s role in the nurture of an Indian national consciousness through a unified Indian language which would both reflect the self-identity of Indians and bridge the lin- guistic diversity of its many regions. He argues: It would be debatable in  to say that Hindi was Hindu and Urdu was Muslim, but there were certainly grounds and occasion for relating language and religion in this way. It was one of the central projects of Gandhi’s life, and a tenet of the Indian National Congress after , that the national language must overarch this distinction, that instead of being Hindi or Urdu, it should be Hindustani. (ibid.) Historically, the Indian National Congress gave official recognition to Hindustani in its  constitution. Hindustani, suggested by Gandhi as a neutral solution to the thorny Hindi-Urdu controversy, would reflect a unified national consciousness free from religious affiliations. But the stumbling block around which the neutral solution fell apart was that of the script. In Sunil Khilnani’s view, after independence: “Nehru’s initial hope had been for India’s regional states to continue as the mixed, multi- lingual administrative units established by the Raj” (, ). Nehru’s government resisted the pressures from the Hindi lobbyists for a central- izing national language and reached a compromise with the post-Partition Indian Constitution () by recommending a fifteen-year usage of English for official purposes and the use of Hindi in the Devanagari script as the “official” language of the Union, while also extending recognition  • T A  U S to other regional languages. But eventually this pluralism had to be altered to accommodate the demand for decentralization and the forma- tion of linguistic states. The Official Languages Amendment Act of  gave Hindi the hegemonic status of “official language” and English the secondary role of “associate or additional official language.”7 The Official Languages Amendment Bill adopted in  included the acceptance of a historic Three Language Formula which would be implemented in sec- ondary education for language teaching. This formula recommends: “(a) the regional language and mother tongue when the latter is different from the regional language; (b) Hindi or, in Hindi-speaking areas, another Indian language; and (c) English or any other modern European language” (Gupta , ). With regards to the situation of Urdu in contemporary India, the language controversies of the past have had a detrimental effect on the status of Urdu wherever religious identity has come to inform the ideo- logically separatist correlation of Muslim=Urdu=Pakistan and Hindu= Hindi=India.8 According to Athar Farouqui, the situation of the Urdu mother-tongue speaker has deteriorated in Uttar Pradesh to such an extent that “there is not even a single primary or junior high school of Urdu medium. The only two Urdu medium schools are run by and affili- ated to Aligarh Muslim University” (, ). For Farouqui, the Three Language Formula in Uttar Pradesh has thus far failed to serve the needs 7There were angry reactions to Hindi’s elevation and violence-led rejection of this move in the southern states of Andhra Pradesh and Tamil Nadu. In  there was an Official Languages Amendment Act which strengthened the position of English as the acceptable sister alternative to Hindi “without any cer- tain deadline.”—(King , –). 8The Urdu-as-Muslim issue has been particularly volatile in the state of Uttar Pradesh (UP) where the recent bone of contention has been the alleged statistical miscounting of mother-tongue Urdu-speakers. UP, once the heartland of Urdu’s urban élite, is now unable to meet the needs of its mother-tongue speakers. Political intervention on a regional scale was officially led by Dr. Zakir Husain and a -member Urdu-speakers deputation to the UP education minister (Sampurnanand) in , registering the marginalization of Urdu in the state. In  the grievances were made known at a national level to the President of India and a request was made under Article  of the Constitution for the recognition of Urdu in UP, Bihar, Panjab and Delhi. In  Sampurnanand, then chief minister of UP, said that Urdu could not be recognized as a regional language in UP in the Legislative Assembly. A Y •  of mother-tongue speakers of minority languages. He passionately dis- misses the formula as a whitewash as far as the Urdu language is con- cerned, and is outraged at the whimsical interpretation of the North Indian chief ministers in their implementation of it by recognizing Hindi as the regional language, Sanskrit as the modern language and English as the foreign language. To him this signifies a sinister political manipula- tion of the Urdu minority in North India, particularly at the time of cen- sus collection which, he argues, took for granted that everyone’s mother- tongue in the area was Hindi (ibid., ). In Zoya Hasan’s estimation, the Hindi-Urdu controversy in UP has an explicit agenda of “political domi- nance and equally significant subtexts on the cultural identity of the state and alternative conceptions of political community” (, ). Hasan places the blame squarely on government policy which has treated Urdu as a minority Muslim affair breaching the stance on linguistic pluralism and the separation of language and religion. The conflation of language and religion in the Sanskritized official Hindi expansion program has also created further alienation and division amongst the already communal- ized linguistic groups (ibid., –; on this subject also see Jaffrelot ). The Decay of Urdu in Custody In Custody tells the story of the decline and decay of Urdu in modern India. Deven, the antihero of the novel, is a Hindi lecturer devoted to the classical tradition of Urdu poetry, a devotion which stems from his child- hood associations with the language as a mother-tongue speaker. Born in Lucknow, educated in Delhi, he is a poor widower’s son who has found employment as a university lecturer in Lala Ram Lal College in Mirpore. While his career choice is not particularly lucrative as a language special- ist, it has been directed by a practical consideration of the market econ- omy that favors Hindi, the language of communication in North India. Urdu fuels his imagination and Hindi sustains his corporeal needs: “I am—only a teacher … and must teach to support my family. But poetry—Urdu— … I need to serve them to show my appreciation” (, ). Deven feels trapped in the confines of his chosen home, so when the opportunity of returning to the capital presents itself through the inter- vention of his childhood friend Murad, he takes an uncharacteristically risky step by agreeing to Murad’s suggestion. In taking this decision he is temporarily freed from the constrictions of his existence in the small town of Mirpore, which had come to resemble the metaphorically “impassable