LAHORE: Ten-year-old Abid Ali is adamant about joining in with his elders in the yearly ‘zanjeeri maatam’ of ninth of Muharram. He says nothing that anyone says to him will deter him from doing it. “My elder brother does it, and I want to be a part of it too,” he says proudly.
A few blocks away, a local biryani owner’s business is flourishing. Mukhtar Ahmed may not be a Shia himself, but his family has lived for generations in the area of Bhaati Gate, and he has now inevitably become a part of the religious gatherings and processions himself.
“With Muharram, especially the first ten days, my business takes a rise. Many orders for food flow in and we are as busy as ants. The same is the case with all the other restaurant owners in all areas. Haleem, Biryani, Pulao, and Daal Chawal are all often foods that are served after a majlis as niaz,” he says.
The city of Lahore, like all other places in the country, has worn its mourning clothes, and a dark, somber mood has settled within its people. Shia or not, everyone pays respect to the Prophet’s grandsons, Hazrat Imam Hasan (A.S) and Hazrat Imam Hussain (A.S), their father Hazrat Ali (A.S), and mother, Bibi Fatima (A.S), the Prophet’s daughter. The names of these five, collectively known as ‘Punjtan Pak’, are seen on pendants, rings, and other places, often circling the word Allah.
Like those providing food for niaz, those selling artificial jewellery also see their businesses proliferate as they set up stalls and sell rows of steel pendants, ‘karay’ (iron bracelets), and iron anklet. Rings with aqeeq stones set in them, a gemstone with Islamic importance, are also sold. Meanwhile white horses are brushed and decorated for the Zuljina procession which takes places every ninth of Muharram. According to historical anecdotes, Zuljana was the horse Hazrat Imam Hussain rode on to fight the battle at Karbala, who killed at least 31 enemies of its master and then after his martyrdom, went away never to be found again.
Almost every residential area in Lahore has at least one neighbourhood which seems to comprise followers of the Shia sect. Black banners with words inked in red are seen, calling to all followers to remember those who sacrificed their lives for others. Sabeels, or water fountains, set up especially for Muharram, are seen as symbols to mark the remembrance of the torture, men, women and children faced when they were deprived of water in Karbala. Likewise, flavoured milk is also given out as part of niaz for those who have just attended a majlis.
While majlises have started since the first Muharram, some even earlier, in some areas tents for these congregations have become almost permanent, divided into two sections, for men and women. And as the ninth and tenth of Muharram approach, the two most auspicious days in this month, security arrangements have also tightened.
Police is seen, standing alert at check points, along with the organizers of the majlises themselves doing body searches as one by one people filter into tents to hear their religious leaders talk about the historic and religious importance of this month and of the Muslim heroes who laid down their lives in the face of injustices.
But Allama Mehdi, from the administration of Karbala Gameh Shah has a slight complaint. “We are immensely thankful for the tight security that has been provided to us this year,” he says. “However ironically it is now so tight that even followers cannot enter the procession in the middle. I request that the police at least leave one entry point because people from all over the city come and join the procession and they must be allowed.”
The main procession will leave in the morning on the tenth of Muharram, prior to a big majlis. A night before, on the ninth, many intend to gather at different spots in the city, to do zanjeeri matam, symbolizing their anguish at the fate of their religious heroes. Women and men, both dressed in full black, become part of the serene nights of Muharram. Not a trace of make up adorns the faces of girls while men with their stubble display a kind of personal misery.
