http://www.thehindu.com/features/friday-review/kombai-s-anwars-yaadhum-reveals-the-pluralistic-society-of-tamils/article7305475.ece
GEETHA VENKATRAMANAN
Kombai S. Anwar’s documentary, ‘Yaadhum’, traces the roots of Tamil
Muslims holding a mirror to a society that fostered brotherhood.
Kombai S. Anwar’s ‘Yaadhum’ is a learning experience. It opens the
window to a world where people of different communities co-existed,
enriched each other’s lives and did not even think about it. The
documentary that was screened recently at the C.P. Art Centre traced the
roots of Tamil Muslims holding a mirror to a society that fostered
brotherhood.
Neither Anwar nor his documentary would be new to readers. The film has
garnered awards and is drawing attention slowly and steadily. But it is
the eternal relevance of the message that makes viewing it a rewarding
experience, an experience that strengthens bonds and puts hope in weary
hearts.
What exactly triggered the film? “Identity crisis,” pat comes the reply.
As a child, Anwar did not have problems socialising. In Kombai, a
hamlet in Madurai, where he was born, people of all communities lived
together, shared space and emotions. It was as an adult that he found
himself confused. “You don’t speak Urdu…?” The unsaid part was, “What
kind of a Muslim are you?” As if Urdu is mandatory to practise the
faith. “We can learn the Koran in our mother tongue, whatever it may be.
Brethren from the same community were asking the question as if the
Tamil Muslim was an alien. My roots are here, my parents and their
parents are here. But we are not accepted. What then is my status?”
Anwar decided to explore and trace his roots, from the foothills of the
Western Ghats, where his forefathers had pepper and cardamom
plantations. His fascinating journey across the State and beyond
resulted in the documentary ‘Yaadhum (All).’
“A year after its release, I find new meanings and new dimensions,” says
Anwar. “The time has helped to look at it from new perspectives,” he
adds. “Remove me, a Muslim, and put someone else in that place, from
anywhere, any community, the subject would still be relevant. Identity
crisis is something happening everywhere, most of the conflicts born out
of the desperate attempt at assertion.”
The film opens with a temple procession to the accompaniment of
nagaswaram crossing a mosque. None complains. “This is a procession of
the Ranganatha temple and is a routine,” says Anwar. Trade facilitated
traffic, especially to and from West Asia. This in turn led to people
adopting different faiths. “We are talking about the scene 1,400 years
ago. So from Madurai and Kochi to Kayalpattinam and Nagore, there are
Muslims, who speak Tamil and are native of the soil. Of course, there
are Malayalam and Telugu speaking Muslims, Moplahs and so on.”
“The division was a colonial legacy,” asserts Anwar. “The British, from a
mono-faith background, did not appreciate the plurality of this land
and realised that they had to first breach this unity in diversity. What
followed was the two main divisions -- Hindus and Muslims. The former
was a term foisted upon us. It suited the purpose of the East India
Company. Unfortunately, we are also following history as it has been
recorded by them,” explains Anwar. A few historians are trying to put
the record straight but the effort is not sufficient. “There is a lot to
unlearn,” he says.
“I was always drawn to Madurai, the city that doesn’t sleep. There is
always something happening,” says Anwar. One of the major festivals is
Puttu Tiruvizha that commemorates one of Siva’s 64 leelas. The film
captures the priest assuming the role of a lad (!), who offers to help
Vanti, the old woman, and eventually falls asleep. No, it is not the
drama that matters so much here as the Muslim family that plays a vital
role. With them rests the responsibility of putting up a fence around
the enactment arena. They are honoured on the concluding day, a
tradition that has continued for four generations.
A brief shot captures a woman performing karagattam in costume, typical
to the art – brief skirt and a jacket. “There is nothing vulgar about
it. It is our ethos. Nobody in the village would think it is obscene
because it is part of rural culture. The urban version found the artist
clad in full pyjamas and have lost a flavour that belongs to this soil,”
points out Anwar
The Kanthuri festival in Azhwartirunagari is celebrated to the
accompaniment of nagaswaram and the gait of an elephant. And martial
arts were not exclusive to Tamils. The film focusses on the oldest
mosque built in Dravidian style. Later in the interaction with the
audience, Anwar remarks that there never were set rules to the
construction of mosques. They imbibe the architectural style of the
period and place. Thus the inside of a mosque is similar to the worship
place of the Hindus and those in Kerala resemble a typical Ambalam.
“There is no rule that mosques must have minarets.”
Someone in the audience mentions Kafir, which is supposed to denote
hatred for other elements. Anwar’s quiet reply - “I’ve also heard that
it has negative connotations but the Islam I know is all about equality
and brotherhood” – is greeted with loud cheers.
The film has experts talking about the contribution of Muslims to Tamil
literature. “Their contribution is the richest,” observes Kaviko Raguman
and says this fact was acknowledged by no less a person than K.P.
Viswanathan, scholar. And there are any number of scholars, including
M.M. Ismail, who were Ramayana experts. Gunangudi Mastan Saheb can be
compared to the Azhwars in his devotion to Allah, whom he visualised as a
woman. Expressing his love for ‘Her,’ Saheb concludes on this poignant
note: “You may have many suitors but you are my only Light of Life.”
It is moving as Aboobacker sings the praise of Allah prefixing the songs
with tuneful viruttams. Kapi and Bageshri lend themselves to his voice
that has the tone of a temple bell.
The film ends with the song ‘Yaadhum Oore yaavarum kaelir.’ To an
appreciative audience, Anwar explains, “With this rich tapestry of
legacy and bonhomie, I can’t be an alien. I don’t have to speak Urdu in
order to prove that I’m a Muslim. I’m a native of this place. I’m a
Tamil first and Muslim next. I am a combination of all the factors that
make my motherland special.”
In a private chat, Anwar expands: “Conflict arises because we have
failed to look at the picture as a whole. Without a fair knowledge of
the scriptures of other faiths, one cannot claim to have complete
knowledge of one’s religion. There are leaders, who have read the Gita,
Koran and the Bible. They rise above all differences because they know
ultimately it is one power.”
It is in this context perhaps that the film speaks of Sufis and Siddhars
in the same breath. “Yes,” affirms Anwar. “‘Onre Kulam, Oruvane Devan’
comes from Tirumandiram. Yakoba was a Vaishnavite, who after meditation
found himself transported to Mecca. Bhogar too had a similar
experience,” he informs. The film shows people of all faiths praying at
the altar of Sufi saints, believed to have healing powers. One is
reminded of women with ailing children waiting outside mosques to be
blessed by the … They strongly believe that his rhythmic chanting and
the caress of the peacock feathers, through the cloud of fragrant
sambrani will remove any ill effects their offspring might be suffering.
Is Anwar planning a second part?
Yes, on the Diaspora. “Singapore and Malaysia to begin with,” he says. “And it will be Tamils on the whole, which will
“You know, biriyani is not our trademark delicacy,” Anwar told the
viewers. “We serve our special guests what is called Nei Soru.’” He
adds: “However, if you want to eat biriyani, come to Madurai. You’ll get
the most authentic recipe there.”
“I encountered a problem getting a community certificate for my daughter
because her name was Nachiyar, the same issue that dogged my mother,
whose name is Chellammal,” observes Anwar. These are Tamil names but my
contemporaries do not understand it. “We are dismissed as Labbai,
something inferior. But we had our counter. We called the Urdu speaking
Muslims Pattaani,” he laughs.
Vignettes from the film
Joe d’Cruz says: “When I was a childm I often would hear this pedlar, a
Muslim elder, crying out, ‘Muscoth Halwa!’ at noon with the sun right
above his head. He would enter our house, head straight for the kitchen,
pick up a plate, and help himself to the food even as my grandmother
would hurry with a glass of water. After the meal, he would stretch
himself in a corner, rest for a couple of hours, pick up his vessel and
leave. Where is disparity here? We would call our Muslim elders chacha
and chachi.
About Anwar
A student of Chennai’s Loyola College (visual communication), Anwar was a
freelance journalist who photographed pictures for his own stories.
Soon he found pictures were more eloquent than essays. He engaged
himself in making documentaries and short films. He was commissioned by
South Madras Gazetteer to trace the history of Muslims of Madras. The
Archaeological Survey of India gave him the project of making a film on
the Big Temple to commemorate its 1,000 year. “Documenting the history
of Muslims opened my eyes to the misrepresentations that filled the
so-called history books. They were simply loaded against the community. I
decided to focus on the subject and throw light on the
misunderstandings.”
(Courtesy: The Hindu)
