In the morning sun, a silver kite flashes its way through a blue sky. Catching the breezes above the islamo-saracenic architecture of Ahmedhabad, it flits and flutters at the end of its string. Down below, the old man stares soberly at his aerial art. At once a plaything, a cultural remnant and a celebrated image of Gujarati culture, the kite is often associated with the period of Mughal rule over Northern India from the 16th to 19th centuries. These toys of sultans have so deeply ingrained themselves in the history and everyday of Gujarat that you can see them caught in trees throughout many city streets, especially after the annual International Kite Festival.
The strings of kites are not the only ties that bind this Sultanate past to India’s multicultural present. Ornately carved Burmese teak adorns the weatherboards and internal panels of preserved havelis, multistory dwellings with a central courtyard area. Beautiful and economic, the name for these structures comes from the Arabic word Hawali meaning ‘partition’. Crumbling but imposing are eleven scattered gates, built to grant passage through the mighty walls of Ahmedhabad, constructed during the time of Ahmed Shah’s 15th century rule to protect these communities of haveli. The grand and beautiful mosques of Siddi Sayid and Jaim Masjid, fusing the artistic traditions of Islam, Jainism and Hinduism, stand as an enduring examples of the existence and strength of India’s Muslim communities, and the ways in which cultural traditions were shared between India’s communities.
But of course, cross cultural relationships are never smooth, particularly those moulded by the conflicts of the past. The influence of sultanate empires upon India is precisely that, imperial in nature. This is not seen as a desirable trait by all in a nation forging it’s own postcolonial history, with a growing sense of Hindu nationalism at its core. The recent consecration of the Ram Mandir on the site of the previous Babri Masjid mosque, and the later finding that the Gyanvapi mosque has been built on the site of an ancient Hindu temple and subsequent demands for the mosque’s removal, are ongoing examples of the religious friction that come from the clash of the past and present.
Perhaps instead we can look to Ram Rahim No Tekro, a community in Berhampura, Gujarat which presents an example of progress and harmony beyond historic discord. Here, Muslim and Hindu communities live, work and learn alongside each other, with a joint community council and shared food and festivities. Children here are encouraged to learn about and engage in the practices of other religions. Importantly, it’s not unusual to see these children of diverse faiths guiding kites together, high above the community’s dusty streets.
Kites cannot fly without the tautness of the string or the force of the breeze. However, neither can they survive a tempest, nor stay on track with a snapped string. As the tension of the past meet the winds of change in modern India, it is crucial that those guiding Bharar through its rise keep its flight steady and measured. Only through reflection and appreciation for the various forces that have made it what it is will the kite of India continue to flash, flutter and dance in its bright, luminous dawn.