FARRUKH NAGAR

Farrukhnagar, a town in Gurgaon was founded in mid 18th century by Faujdar Khan. The town was established with the intention to eliminate the dacoits attacking the travelers on their way to Rewari from Delhi. Faujdar khan was the governor appointed by emperor Farrukhsiyar, after whom the place was named. In 1738 A.D faujdar khan was honored by the title of nawab and carved a niche for himself in the history and development of this town. Nawab Ali Khan the last reminiscent of faujdar Khan’s family played an important role in the uprising of 1857. For revolting against Britishers he along with the nawab of Vallabhgarh and jajjhar was executed by hanging them on the tree in front of Red fort

In 1858 British confisticated Nawab’s property and this town.

BAZAAR

Farrukhnagar, seen from a bird’s eye view is octagonal in shape. If one zooms in closer one finds“boundary walls” of old fort still standing tall, encircling and guarding the main residential area of the town. While getting down from main road and on entering one of the sub lanes, huge tall pointed arched shaped “Delhi Darwaaza” greets one and proclaims the entrance to farukhnagar.
One is at once struck by the vibrancy of market right in front of Dilli Darwaza. It is a place which shows Farrukhnagar is full of life. It reflects the daily needs of the residents of the area. The shops are bedecked with colourful clothes, designer jootis, mooras made out of straw. There are shops of electronic goods, tailor, mobile showrooms too. It is eleven thirty in the morning, shopkeepers are busy attending there customers and customers are busy striking the right deal with the shopkeepers. This is the most brisk time of the day for the market. It is not only the goods changing hands but it is the changing time in terms of culture and practice of the Farrukhnagar. Most of the shops have women as buyers in their colourful and traditional Ghaghra Kurti. Ask any shopkeeper in the market he will tell you that those days are numbered when men used to shop and women used sit at home. I saw one such match between shopkeeper and a woman customer.
How much is this,” the woman asked holding a saree in her hand.

500,” shopkeeper gave her the price.

And to my utter surprise woman quoted half the price,” 250.

As expected argument ensued between them. Ultimately woman won this bargaining match. I was watching the whole episode very intently. Although I did not see anything special in that but the dialogue between them was very interesting. Besides I was amused to see the confidence of that woman supposedly coming from a rural background.

It is the women who rule the Farukhnagar Market these days,” I heard someone saying this to me as if someone has caught my inquisitiveness towards the Farukhnagar market.

I turned towards the voice. And this is how I met Mr. Arora a grocery shop owner who is running his business in the Market for last 45 years.
Earlier …I mean to say 7- 8 years back you should not have seen these many women in the market,” Arora continued, shopping was the prerogative of men. Now the scene is changing fast. Urban culture is taking us over.

How,” I asked enquiringly

Well….earlier the customer had to bear the tantrums of the shopkeeper now it is vice versa. Because in past farmers used to do all their purchasing after harvesting season. They never paid cash. They bought everything on credit. Paid the due amount on every harvest. That was the time when business was neither this brisk nor competitive. Shopkeepers could go for a siesta and game of cards in the afternoon after a decent business in the morning.

Before sunset, around 4pm in the afternoon they used to call their day.
So early,” I asked “how are the things different now.
Now customers have cash in their pockets,” Arora continued, “they do not like to stop at one shop. If they not get the things of their choice they move to another shop. Now they have plenty of choice. Now shopkeepers have to pamper the customers, competition is so tough that forget about afternoon siesta, if a shopkeeper takes things too seriously, he may loose his sleep altogether. Now customer is the king.
Rather queen,” I said jokingly pointing at the women outnumbering men in the market.
Arora nodded and laughed.

But how things have changed, I asked “where has the locals got money from.

Earlier the mainstay of economy was farming, Arora continued, “but now many have taken up jobs, with the arrival of "Reliance" and other business groups in the area the price of property has gone high. Today land price is Rs 10,000 sq ft. Farmers have acres of land, they do not need to worry about anything.

Arora asks,” you must have noticed many shops of property dealers?

yes,” I nodded, “ and lot of shops of construction material also.

yes, new houses are being constructed everyday, lands are being sold on a high price, influx of cash is sudden,” Arora said,” this is how the culture of the town is changing. But you still have plenty of shops with old architectural features. Many shops still 3 or 5 chambers and antechambers which we call as "teen khan" or "panch khan". First chamber was used to display goods at the shop, where as rest were used as godowns.Armature of the shop was constructed out of bamboo poles. Walls were made out of mud, lime and stones and used to be 18inch or 24inch thick. Where as ceiling was prepared with mud and was covered with a thick layer of straw.

There I thought to take leave from Arora and explore the market on my own. And noticed despite all the changes taking place around there are many buildings and shops in the market with medieval feel in their form and design. They had corbelled arch, cchajja with brackets, niches, wooden doors with iron rings.

The shop which caught my eyes most was of “Ladies Beauty Parlor”. Interesting part was that billboard announces that it’s a parlor but when you look at the shop you can see a woman sitting on the floor and showing her customer bangles of different shapes and sizes. It was a open shop without any windows or doors and racks on the wall was filled with hair pins, combs, bangles, bindis and powder packets. She was selling these products under the board of beauty parlor. So you can imagine it was a beauty parlor with a difference. Out of all interesting things, I spotted the most interesting which was a “Photo Studio” named as R.K STUDIO.

VERMA JI KA PHOTO STUDIO

A photographer is busy rushing from one hardware shop to another wood ware shop. He is busy selecting the color of sun mica for his desk table, looking for fancy lights, ordering for “glass sheets”, and picking up beautiful exterior frames. Refusing one, selecting other he is trying to design the “look” of his photo studio shop. Located amid the shops made out of straw roofs, tin shed, mud walls and bamboo poles, photographer’s shop stands apart not only in terms of “look” but also in profession. His competition with others is not about profession but about survival. As he is going to be the one and only photo studio owner in farukhnagar. His competitors are tea sellers, grocery shop owner, cloth vendors and tailors. They are not only critical of his profession but also tease him by inquiring about his plans of shutting the shop and leaving the town. He and his studio just doesn’t fit in the frame of this small town. This not only determines him for giving a modern get up to his shop but also to set the trend of photography in the town. He does so by cycling from one village to another advertising for his shop by putting self painted boards all over and rewarding his reluctant customers by clicking their free photographs during initial days. He edited people’s photograph by working with the needle like pencil on negatives and removed the scars, wrinkle and unwanted marks from their faces. Making them believe in the beauty of getting photographed. His skills of photography astonished people and encouraged them to capture their life’s moments on camera lens freezing into undying memory. After listening to the experiences of Mr Verma , the photographer I realized establishing a photo studio in farukhnagar is not unique but an interesting phenomenon too.

COUPLES

To turn leisure pursuit into obsession, Verma the photographer convinced people to unfetter their fantasies into reality in photostudio. He attracted people by getting them clicked in different states dresses and style, for e.g. Rajasthani or Kashmiri. Getting clicked in “Kashmiri dress” became trendy among couples who travelled on pilgrimage to Jammu. Couples who got themselves clicked used to conceal the photograph from the rest of the family as it was not meant for display. If somehow got caught parent in laws used to critically comment- Oh what a shame!!!!!! He is getting himself clicked with his wife. Slowly and gradually people fell in love with the risk involved in getting themselves clicked. And photostudio became a laboratory to experiments with the conventions. Photostudio became hit among women as it became the space to secretly wear make up and bellbots as both were thought to be the taboo in society. Verma learned more about his craft by watching films. He watched frames and compositions closely in the films and tried to capture people on his camera with different angle. He learned about “close ups” from hit hindi movies of his times and technically experimented by shooting brides in close ups. Not only “frames” but “backgrounds” also became important for technical and aesthetical details. Couples got themselves photographed in gardens, between flower fields (as in 70’s farukhnagar was famous for flowery), Bajara fields and even sometimes in buffalo stables.

GUNS

Little was verma aware that not only him but also his customers are getting inspired from movies to gear up in different poses in front of camera. Influence of bollywood in 60s, 80s was so impactful that even if meant standing for hours at a shopkeeper’s shop every Sundays to watch a movie if one doesn’t have a TV set. People loved to internalize the character they saw on the big or small screen. Farukhnagar was no exception. Not only men but women were also trying to modify themselves by switching to the new fashion statements made by the heroines of their times. During 70s many movies were made on the heroic acts of dacoits and pirates which inspired many women in farukhnagar to get into the shoes of their favorite character and got clicked by holding a gun. Looking at one such photograph verma remembered that farukhnagar before partition had a tradition of making swords, military guns, knifes etc for Mughal army and later for Britishers. It was the Muslim artisans who practiced this occupation as they were good in martial artistry. With Muslims this profession also got wiped out at the time of partition. Weapons and heroism still flatter the inhabitants in farukhnagar. Because of which film sholay in 80s swiped away the earth beneath the feet of people in farukhnagar. To be photographed as a movie’s character became obsession. Good looking males became “basanti”, heavily built turned into “gabbar” where as other loved to get into the dress of “veru”. Holding Guns, wearing big and fake mustache, beard, this style of photography – realizing the fantasies – made photo studio the talk of the town.

RADIO

Twilight of the evening is diffusing from the sky. Night is about to fall. People are returning from their backbreaking work at fields. Shutters of the shops were locked before sun could set. But still bazaar is alive by the thrilled voices coming from the corner of a bazaar where “game of cards “has reached its climax. Bulls and camels refresh themselves at pond refusing to take any more commands from their master.
This lethargic ambience breaks by the echo of a skilled voice coming from a near by house. A lively crowd of 200 people has gathered around a window of this house to hear evening news at 7pm of All India Radio. House belongs to no one but “bera”, the one and only Philips transistor owner. This is year 1970, place Farukhnagar. Before transistor the only source of entertainment available to locals was the religious “Swang”. It was the only occasion on which villagers got the chance to witness the religious epics and dance drama performed by local actors continuously for two or three nights. Female characters were mainly played by males. Soon repetitive performances of Swang were replaced by the variety of “Radio Stations” offered by Bera’s transistor. Bera earns his bread by making ‘moora’ but bought his toy of entertainment by selling rare seeds of ‘nut grass’ which he gathered through out the spring season. Nut grass is an expensive herb used in various medicines to cure many diseases. Transistor has turned bera into a celebrity overnight. But clever Bera never wanted to loose his moments of glory in the passing time. He wanted to leave something for the posterity like emperors do. And in order to achieve this he got himself clicked with the transistor.

MOSQUE

Strolling around in Farukhnagar is like treading into the lanes of memories and the time bygone. Likewise one of the roads of Farukhnagar takes one straight in front of a building which evokes divine respect but it is difficult to relate that grand building to any particular religion. Apparently it looks like a mosque, you go closer to it you will find Gurudwara written on its entrance and out of curiosity you enter into the building to discover it is a temple. This is what Farukhnagar is. Even oneness of divine can be experienced here in a very simple manner. “Mosque is gurudwara and gurudwara is temple”. Seems like a line from the couplet of medieval saint Kabir Das. A mosque build by nawab Faujdar Khan turned into Gurudwara at the time of partition and today it has converted into mandir. Three domes and two minars are visible from the distance when one enters into the narrow lanes of bazaar. On inquiring about this particular mosque from the pan shop located in front of it I met Mr Murli Lal Saini, a septuagenarian though more agile than a youth. He is a very active resident of this town and had been a corporator as well as Sarpanch of Farukhnagar for many years. He had many stories to narrate about Farukhnagar. He told me enthusiastically that during the time of partition, riots broke out in farukhnagar and almost all the Muslims fled from this town. It was at that time that Punjabis from Pakistan came to farukhnagar for shelter and got settled here. For them a separate “katra” or colony was built whose wreck is still visible. Only façade of this katra remains while rest of the colony has been taken over by new local inhabitants. Along with homes they also required a place of worship. This mosque which got desolated after Muslims left was handed over to Punjabis by locals. Punjabi did not try to change the architecture of mosque in gurudwara as they were broke and did not have enough money to carry out the construction on such a grand scale. Hence “Gurugranth Sahib” was consecrated in the mosque and loudspeakers were fixed into the wall so that “Gurbani” can be heard every morning. Slowly the dust of differences settled and India started reconstructing itself as a free nation. Punjabis looking for opportunities left farukhngar and started establishing themselves in Delhi. Gurudwara was left abandoned. Till 90s nobody took interest in it but in 1995, it was converted into mandir. Gods were sanctified and bells on the entrance were hanged. But basic features of a Mosque were still intact.

Only in the latest past the ablution pond was filled with mud and grass was grown on it. Murari Lal adds,” “if somehow….(pointing towards the minarets) these “poles” are removed then no one can even recognize that it was a mosque .

On inquiring about the relationship between Hindus and Muslims before partition he said there are many temples in farukhnagar which are build on the land gifted by Muslim zamindars. He took me to “Kale Mahadev mandir” and panchayati mandir. According to local history Kale Mahadev Mandir is the oldest temple of farukhnagar. Almost 200yrs old. The exterior of the mandir was recently renovated by the locals. Black shiny marble gives façade of the temple a glossy look. As I was focusing my camera on the small “shikhara” I saw advertisement of the local “beauty parlor”, hand painted on it. Proper direction was given to reach parlor by big arrow marks on the shikhara.

The story about Kale Mahadev Mandir goes like this. Kale khan was a rich zamindar at the time of nawab who gifted his land to the locals for constructing the temple. While gifting the land to the locals Kale Khan demanded something in return for the respect he has shown to the Hindu God. The locals thus attached the first name of the Zamindar with the name of the temple.

As I entered into the temple, I saw a lady praying to lord shiva with hundreds of wish- bells hanging over linga. The Temple was recently white washed & it was tough to imagine its old glory. Other than arches and niches on the walls no traces of history were visible.
But in my ears the anecdotes told by Murari Lal echoed. They were full of rich cultural amalgamation unique to Farukhnagar.

TRAIN

Farukhnagar has a railway station too! It was to my utter surprise I found an abandoned building and a sarai (inn) on the outskirts of the town. With that there was a platform like structure with a yellow board with Farukhnagar written on it. There was a railway track on which Farukhnagar travelled to modern times. The buildings are desolate with tree growing from its rooftop and railway tracks are covered with the grass. Now in this fast pace era the whole ambience over here looks like a leaf from a book of History. And this virtual book has real stories. By looking at this sight one could imagine a train is about to arrive, passengers are running around to catch it, and train slowly moves to its destination. Now it seems the same din is completely absorbed in the serenity of the abandoned station. The railway track still has the traces of many events related to change, time and space. And the search for these stories took me to a tea stall in the town. And there I met an old man in his late 80s known as “pandit ji” while sipping a tea at a tea stall next to a chowk where bust of Rajiv Gandhi made out of marble stands erect, recalls the changing phases of politics and his town. He talks about the “time” when as a kid he used to see a descent of nawab’s family passing everyday from this chowk on his way from sheesh mahal to his haveli. He still remembers how this so called last nawab while loitering on his horse used to tease children in the street by asking them the way to his haveli. On telling the right direction the kids were rewarded with toffees. He tells how “ride” from being manual turned into mechanical. Horses and bullock carts were replaced by train which located farukhnagar on the map of British India in 1873. During British India faruknagar was a very important salt production center as it had 386 salt wells. Connecting it with railway line turned farukhnagar into a hub of business. Earlier it was a “goods” train with special bogie attached for Pandit Bakhtar lal-the richest of all businessmen. Later it got turned into passenger train with 10 bogies. Initially train had stream engine later it was converted into coal. During early days people were bit hesitant about the schedule of train but slowly attuned their lives according to the train’s time. Early morning on farukhnagar station one can see the hustle and bustle of people from various walks of life rushing to catch train. Milk men, florists, juti maker, moora seller, food grain godown workers, small businessmen and office goers were regular travelers. The journey by train was not only necessity but recreational too. For instance there were many comical incidents associated with train journey. For e.g. Farukhnagar geographically is a rough and uneven sandy terrain. Next station Sultanpur from farukhnagar on its way had many steep heights to cross. Since engine was of coal it was not powerful enough to produce speed which can let train climb in one go. Whole train used to slide back to farukhngar before it gathered power enough to climb up the challenging steep. But this contest of train with the topography enabled people to catch it even if it was missed at the main station by them.
Ironically, train is still struggling to reach Farukhnagar smoothly and people have not only missed it but they are missing it badly because the railway station over here has gone defunct for about last ten years

TRACTOR

Imagine pouring “Noni Ghee”/ butter on the tires of your car rather than using grease. Must be thinking that only rich brat can do that. But it was an auspicious ritual for the people of farukhnagar 40 years ago. Bullock cart used to be the palanquin of the brides leaving their village and moving to their husband’s home. At the time of farewell, old women used to pour butter and water on the tires of bullock cart so that it can make the couple’s journey smooth by functioning properly. Grease was not even known at that time. As time changed palanquin changed from bullock or camel cart to tractor and tractor to cars. But this ritual remains. Rather than butter, today water is poured in front of the bride’s car at the time of valediction. Talking about this ritual Saroj Yadav a woman in her 60s tells that her palanquin was a tractor. It was her mother in law who came in bullock cart and today her daughter in law Anupama came in Honda City. According to her tractor in 1960s was a “symbol status”. Those who own a tractor were considered to be the big shots. It was the “HMT” brand which was famous for tractors. She recalls how many times fight broke out between couples when wife objected to her husband’s desire of buying a tractor out of craze despite of immense debt on their family. It became a mania among men. On its arrival, ladies used to perform special rites for its longevity and had various songs which were sung collectively in its praise. Owning a tractor was definitely a big deal but maintaining a tractor was another difficult task. Till 60s farukhnagar didn’t even had a workshop to repair tractors. If tractor got conk out in the middle of the field then one has to rush all the way to Gurgaon. She still remembers how her uncle took the tractor tyres in bullock cart to Gurgaon when they got punctured while irrigating the fields.

LATHE MACHINE

"Bhai Hamaare engineer to aap hi hain" ( Brother you are our only engineer)

This statement greeted me when I entered the shop - to be more precise the workshop - of Satbeer the lathe machine owner. And this is what a farmer with broken tractor was saying to Satbeer. One could make out Satbeer was not that boastful of his skills as his customers praised him. But yes Satbeer’s lathe machine is the lifeline of Farukhnagar’s farming community. And the customer he is attending to at that moment was somewhat young.
My father even my Grandfather came to Satbeer ji to get their tractor repaired,” young customer told me. And repeated”, “He is our engineer for 2 generations. In fact my grandfather used to come to his father. Satbeer, during this conversation maintained a stoic silence. As if this certification by a customer is a normal thing for him. Later Satbeer opened up.
Well my father established this business. He did not have a lathe machine. He was mostly doing welding works. And that was the time when there were not many tractors. my father used to mend broken plough and rahant. While showing his certificates from Government and Technical Institute, he said with pride that that was the time when government also gave us due importance. There were subsidies on electricity and other benefits from the government.
Then when did you feel that you need a lathe machine,” I asked.
Well…it was to keep pace with the time,” replied back Satbeer, “farmers had been changing fast, they started using tractors instead of plough and bullocks. And with a smile he adds,” “although they used to carry the broken parts of tractor on a bullock cart to Gurgaon city to get them mended.
But that was the time I and my father realized that we also need to change with the demands of our customers,” Satbeer continued, “and then we set up a lathe machine.
While showing his certificates Satbeer off and on resort to talking in English. In a way trying to justify his status as an engineer in Farukhnagar.

What was the purpose of lathe machine,” I asked.
In fact,” Satbeer sipping tea elaborates, “even the parts of the new tractors coming to village were not fitted nicely. Many of those parts had to be put on lathe machine. The grooves were made, the parts were cut to size as per the requirement. Those were the busy days. But now business is not that hectic since parts are well chiseled I have to simply assemble them. Technology is changing fast.
Despite this admission Satbeer was looking quite busy. He had lot of work to finish and live up to his reputation of local engineer. The same customer came to him and requested him to complete his work urgently. I took his leave while brooding that Farukhnagar’s engineer is slowly loosing his confidence but his importance is intact.

MOORAH

I was about to enter Farrukhnagar via Delhi Gate. Suddenly my eyes caught the nicely stacked Moorahs kept at the shops. There was not one shop but a few. Initially I took this sight as nothing uncommon. But simultaneously another thought crossed over my mind is there any connection between these moorahs and Farrukhnagar?

This question of mine was answered in no time when I was inside the town and chatting with the people about the specialties of Farrukhnagar. I was told that there used to be a time when Farrukhnagar produced high quality Moorahs. In fact locals boasted of the high quality of moorahs of Farrukhnagar. No other place could match it in terms of style and durablity. Later Mr. Goyal, a local whose family was in Moorah trade told me about the story of Farrukhnagar and Moorah.

The story goes like this.

One Kubban khan, about 100 yrs ago, started making moorahs in Farrukhnagar. With the popularity of his Moorah he also earned some name. Others started coming to him to learn moorah making and adapt it as a profession. Thus Kubban Khan not only trained many people into the profession but brought them together under one canopy. This guild of people were called as Moorah Makers by other people of the town. That's how the community of "moorah makers" was established.

So it is with Kubban Khan history of moorah in farukhnagar begins. Although the history of Moorah making was pushed into oblivian over the period of time. And not much is known about Kubban Khan today. But the moorah artists those who know him still claim that their ancestors learnt their art and skills of moorah making from Kubban Khan only. Farrukhnagar has always been known for its unmatched moorahs. Farrukhnagar had a vast jungle of "reed stems"(sarkanda). The availability of reeds and natural rush fibre in the region led to the emergence of moorah trade. The cost of material for making moorah(stool) was extremely low and the skill required for weaving was learned from one another in the community. There were 200 to 300 families of artist in farrukhnagar, who were financially depended on moorahs for their survival. Unlike profession of "jutiya", making moorah was never associated with any particular caste. It was not a taboo in the society, as there were thirty six jatis (caste) who were involved in the production of moorah.

Although Farukhnagar had a tradition of moorah but it never wooed the elites of the town, it was an art with utility purpose and its buyer was a common man. Major boom came in the business of moorah when in 1970s chief minister of Haryana Mr Devilal turned moorha into an ethnic fashion statement. He made it mandatory for all the government offices, chawpals, village panchayat, even 3 star hotels of Haryana to use moorah for sitting in style or necessity. Mr Goyal told that from 1970 to 1978 there was a major hike in the demand and supply of moorahs. Gradually moorah evolved from its natural state of crudity and immediacy and became an object of desire even for upper class. According to him many new designs were introduced in moorah on the demand of national and international businessmen. During this period they started producing moorahs in "sets" of "four" or "five" moorahs. No more the moorahs were sold as single piece. Dealers in Farrukhnagar got many international orders and exported moorahs abroad. He still recall those golden days when their business was at its peak and his father used to give him Rs 5 as train fare to drop moorahs at shops in two major moorah markets of Delhi i.e at Sadar Bazaar and Pharganj.

Rs 5 was a big amount in 70s," said Mr Goyal.

Did you ever try to watch cinema on your visit to Delhi? I asked.

With a smile on his face Mr goyal said, train fare was Rs 1.15p for one side visit to Delhi. So total of Rs 2.50 was spent on train fare. With the remaining money I used to watch cinema on every visit and hang out on good eating joints. I have watched many films for Rs 1.

After talking to Mr Goyal , I went to the "basti"(locality) of maoorah artist. I am deliberately calling them as an artist. Because the skill to make moorah is not less than artistry, like any other form of making handmade articles. And when I went to the area where moorah makers were residing and after meeting them my belief to call them as artist got firmer. There I met Madhav Ram , Ram singh Satpal singh and all of them are the third generation of artist in the family. They learned their lessons of weaving moorah at early stage. According to them everyone in the family has his or her role carved out in making moorahs. The women are the active workforce along with men of the families. Kids are given the job to turn rush into cord, they just observe and follow their parents and pick up the skill pretty well. Its all in the family.

But where did you sell your moorahs, the finished product," "I asked.
Madhav Ram replied," "There were two ways either you sell it to a trader or you directly go to the market.

So do you have any markets close by for the same," I became more inquisitive.
Madhav Ram and his associates laughed.
Madhav Ram continued," Those of us who wanted to sell their moorahs directly and they had to go to Delhi. About .....kms. Unlike these days it used to take 2 nights and 1 day in reaching markets in Delhi.

The journey was not easy but quite adventurous. With red cloth hanging at the back of the cart and lantern in hand they used to travel as there was no tax on bullock carts for entering from one state to another. Gurgaon and Dhaula Kuan were the two main stoppages to spend night. Like Mr Goyal these artists also have good memories of good days. At Surajkund Mela a three day fair, ( which takes place every year to promote arts of different states) moorah artist of farukhnagar used to set their stalls. They remember that many times while they had been setting the stall their moorahs were bough by enthusiastic buyers that too at good price of Rs. 5000 to Rs. 10,000.

Today hardly any one of them put up a stall there. As their moorahs stand no chance against durable plastic chairs. In order to compete with plastic chairs, moorahwallahs in farukhnagar have started using nylon and plastic rope instead of rush cord to weave moorah .The overuse of reed and natural rush as resources has caused deforestation around the town. The less availability of raw material has hiked its price. And at the same time the preferences of buyers have changed.

Moorah which used to be in a way a jewel in the crown has lost its luster. Neither the art nor the skill attract new generation towards this profession.

JUTIYAAN

Hukum chand a juti maker is struggling hard to wake up but his body is aching and resisting against his wish. Pulling himself up he recalls that it rained heavily last night and water dripping from the straw ceiling of his house kept him awake. His eyes impatiently rush towards the corner of the room and his breath for a moment freezes. Seeing the jute bag full of jutti dry and safe he felt relived. He was afraid of water seeping into the jute bag. Today is yet another day for him and as usual he has to leave his house by 7am thinking whom to sell his jutiya so that he can earn a bit of his share of bread. Carrying the burden of heavy jute bag on his back, he sets his journey on foot roaming from one village to another in quest of looking for a customer. As he was showing his jutiya to one of the shopkeepers, a british officer approaches him. Looking at the delicacy of embroidery and sophistication of design he gives hokum chand Rs 20 advance to make for him same juti but of 1cm in size. The british officer wants to wear it as a brooch on his uniform’s coat. Hukum chand cannot forget that day when he was paid the same amount of money for making a 1cm juti which he used to get by selling a pair of jutiya.
Hukum chand today is the last generation who has witnessed the high & lows of his occupation as well of his town before and after independence. He belongs to a lineage who dedicated themselves to this profession not out of choice but out of vulnerability. His community is known as the “chamaars” or “jatiye” and lives on the edge of farukhnagar. Hukum chand has faced much alienation due to his profession and caste. Whether it was drinking water from a different tap at school or getting down from the bus as driver refused to drive until or unless he gets off with his “raw leather” which made the entire bus stink of dead skin. His pain of humiliation is awful but he still takes pride in thinking about pair of jutiya which he made for nawab’s family and rich businessmen. According to him Nawab’s jutiya used to be fancy, delicate and did not have heels. He used to change atleast ten jutiya a day. Where as for local people working in the fields, their jutiya used to be simple, hard and weighed 1 or 2kg as they were concerned with durability. Today most of his fellow men has given up this profession and turned into labourers or tailors. New generation is reluctant to the very idea of being a juti maker. The process of washing the “raw leather”, drying and rubbing with oil make them feel puky. Youngsters do not want to be a part of profession which is looked down in society. Hukum chand is today 82 yr old and his livelihood has become obsolete. Leather is no longer affordable and cheap rubber slippers have taken over. Sitting in his old small shop hokum chand epitomize his life’s struggle and caste politics in a poem which he recites by heart.