Abstract
Author and filmmaker
ABOVE AND RIGHT: Readers gather at the Hazrat Shah Waliullah Public Library in 2018
OLD DELHI - or Purani Dilli (its local name) - is chaotic, with its congested lanes, honking rickshaws, crumbling buildings housing generations of families, rows of shops which sell almost everything under the sun and the whiff of spices and oil in the air from delectable Mughal dishes served by century-old eateries.
For the unversed, Old Delhi was formerly known as the Mughal city Shahjahanabad, one of the oldest populated areas of India’s capital, New Delhi.
At the heart of this bustling neighbourhood is a non-descript public library, all in one room, which quietly nurtures the power of syncretic knowledge and collective learning. Hazrat Shah Waliullah Public Library, simply called “library” by the locals, was born in 1987. Now, 37 years later it is perhaps one of the most meditative public spaces in Delhi, although its genesis was rooted in tense circumstances.
Hindu-Muslim communal clashes and riots ravaged Old Delhi in May 1987. Curfews were imposed for days, resulting in a shortage of supplies -milk in particular. The situation was discomfiting for local shop owners Mohammad Naeem and Sikander Mirza Changezi (later the founding members of the library), and others.
They decided to volunteer to deliver provisions, spending the rest of their time playing the table game carrom in a tiny room of a dilapidated house. The act of delivering provisions impacted them and kindled a sense of purpose in them.
Naeem’s quiet demeanour visibly perks up as he recalls the birth of the library. “We discussed what may work best for the community in the long term and came up with the decision to work in school education,” he said.
“Our primary aim was to prevent the large number of dropouts from the neighbourhood. To roll out our tiny initiative, we formed a grassroots community organisation and registered ourselves as a not-for-profit, naming it Delhi Youth Welfare Association, and in 1990 established Hazrat Shah Waliullah Public Library. Hardly did we know what the future had in store for us!”
Nearly 40 years later, as libraries and madrassas (Islamic schools) are being set on fire by frenzied far-right Hindutva mobs, the humble library has held its ground. With one of India’s largest collections of books in Urdu - along with Arabic, Hindi and English titles -this one room is a hive of knowledge, housing more than 30,000 books.
Among them is a priceless reserve of rare books - a holy Quran that is more than a century old, written in multiple calligraphic styles with gold embossing; the original volume of poetry by the last Mughal emperor, Bahadur Shah Zafar, titled Diwan-e-Zafar and published in 1885, with the year marked with the official emblem of the royal press; a 130-year-old multilingual dictionary by Sultan Shah Jahan Begum, the ruler of the princely state of Bhopal; the cult 19th-century poet Mirza Ghalib’s ever popular work, Diwan-e-Ghalib; a holy Bhagavat Gita, written in Urdu and published by one of the earliest publishers and printers in India, The Nawal Kishore Press; and rare treatises of Sufi teachings.
Naeem reflects on how the robust collection came about.
“Having named the library after [the] revered 18th-century Naqshbandi Islamic Sufi scholar and reformer Shah Waliullah, we donated our personal collection first. Then public donations started coming in. Sometimes complete strangers would approach us with the intent of donating. Today these donations make [up] 60% [of our] books, and the rest we have purchased. [In] those days we explored the book bazaar of Daryaganj every Sunday and found surprising treasures like the Bhagavat Gita in Urdu.
“Scholars started dropping by, some of them [from] faculties in universities in the USA and the UK. Since we also own Shah Waliullah’s complete original works, those researching him make sure to visit us.”
The library has transformed into a seeker’s paradise, from researchers in higher studies to high-school students on the lookout for textbooks.
There is a space issue for the library - the collection is already full to the brim, but new donations continue to pour in
“We initiated the culture of upcycling textbooks [and] convinced senior school students to donate their books for the next batch,” said Abu Sufiyan, a community leader working with youth groups. “What began with… 22 students, now has a pool of 600.” Having so many book donations has helped to prevent students from dropping out of senior school education.
But the library is at a crossroads. With no grants from government or private funding bodies, its future seems bleak. To make matters more complicated there is also a space issue -the collection is already full to the brim, but new donations continue to pour in.
Naeem said they had the opportunity to buy a new plot for a second library four years ago in Mewat, Haryana, but they have yet to pay for it all due to financial constraints.
“We are paying them in slow instalments every time we gather some donations,” he said. “I would say the plot owners were kind to still allow construction.”
However, the biggest challenge lies in the sustainability of the institution. In the present political climate of India, where Muslim history is becoming increasingly invisible, the chances are that such an initiative would be dismissed as a “Muslim-dominated” project.
CREDIT: (main) Jawwad Iqbal / Wikimedia Commons; (inset) Abu Sufiyan
But does this mean the library should approach both government and nongovernmental donor organisations for support? The answer is both “yes” and “no” - but it would not be simple.
“It’s a small team. We have lots on our plate,” said Sufiyan. “To follow up on government grants or schemes isn’t easy for us. It may involve bureaucracy and can be even more time consuming. As for the private donor organisations, they come with their own agenda. It’s a strange situation.”
The evening has passed by in a blink - it’s now 10.30pm. The reading room is at its best now that it’s quiet. But, interestingly, neither the readers nor the members seem to be in a rush to call it a night.
“If we truly wish to serve the community, we must understand their needs,” said Sufiyan. “The researchers and scholars have requested us to keep the library open till late as that would be of help. They usually drop in after university hours or their day jobs, so [we] are open till 11 at night.”
Outside, the chaos of Old Delhi prevails as I try to navigate the lanes and honking rickshaws. But the million-dollar question is not lost - will this beacon of hope survive? Or will it succumb to these divisive times? ✘
Footnotes