Historian of the marginalised

Mushirul Hasan (1949-2018) was the quintessential Left historian who used the past to debate the present.

Published : Dec 19, 2018 12:30 IST

Professor Mushirul Hasan.

Professor Mushirul Hasan.

There was very little to dislike about Prof. Mushirul Hasan. A man of measured words, he seldom allowed you the luxury of misinterpreting his word. His subtle wit, beguiling charm, and laconic ways often reduced you to a fawning admirer. But he was not a sorcerer who was ready with a rehearsed trick at a moment’s notice. His aura of near invincibility came from his scholarship and, ironically, his independent interpretation of history. In a discipline often straitjacketed between the right wing and the left wing, he provided a fresh perspective. His leftist leanings and his upbringing in the home of a historian—his father Mohibbul Hasan was a historian too—combined to make sure he asked more questions than the world could easily answer.

He spoke up for the deprived, the dispossessed and the displaced. And since Muslims often made up the bulk of the marginalised, he spoke up for them too. Indeed, more than a decade ago, when Jamia Millia Islamia’s minority character was questioned, he showed a hitherto unknown facet of his personality. As the Vice Chancellor, he inspired the faculty of the university, the staff and the students to lead a march to protect the university’s unique status. And he led the march himself, proving that he was no mere iconic intellectual, teaching from the safe confines of a classroom. If the need arose, he was willing to hit the streets, raise his voice, and make the deaf hear.

This ability to mix with ordinary people surprised many. But unknown to them, Hasan was a leftist at heart. He was ready for sweat and grime. The march also marked a homecoming of sorts for Hasan at Jamia. It was at Jamia in the late 1980s that the student fraternity had spoken out against him when he questioned the ban on Salman Rushdie’s The Satanic Verses . He may have done it under the larger ambit of freedom of expression—incidentally, the Prophet himself had pardoned much worse slander from his opponents—but the student community and a large section of the Muslim community thought he had sold his soul. Urdu newspapers, often a more reliable index of the Muslim community’s mind, went hammer and tongs at the professor and condoned the violence of the few. Hasan stayed quiet. And he ended up paying the price. Yet, he did not fulminate against his critics; he did not even duck for cover when some clerics allegedly issued a fatwa against him. For him the written word was sacrosanct. One was at liberty to disagree, but nobody could take away the right of the other person to voice his opinion.

The same respect for the written word came to the fore when one of his books was being brought out by Manohar Publishers. It was also the time this correspondent had approached him for an appointment. He hesitated initially but later agreed on one condition: “I am going through the final proofs of a book. If I can finish by tomorrow, then we will meet. Otherwise, you read it for me!” Of course, I never had to read the proofs for him. He was so diligent and hard working.

In an age when it would have been easy to stay in the limelight, he continued to spend time in his study. It was no ordinary retreat meant to fulfil his intellectual curiosity. He let his pen do the talking. In the decade or so before he met with a near-fatal road accident in December 2014, his books stacked up faster than the years. Importantly, his books opened a window to the Muslim world, the lived Islam of an Indian Muslim often kept under wraps. He brought the focus on the beleaguered Muslim community, even going down history lane to talk of Muslim freedom fighters. He took the opportunity to highlight the role of Jamia Millia in the freedom struggle of the country and the struggle of the community to seek education. Indeed, during those long years, there were no full stops in his life. One book was followed by another. In between, there were newspaper op-ed stories. Clearly, he was a formidable scholar who had much to say about our society, our polity, our history.

When Hasan wrote, the world read. Publishers like Oxford University Press, Manohar Publishers, Niyogi Books and Roli Books queued up for his manuscripts. This was particularly laudable when one realises that in those days, it was usually the academic who pursued a publisher, not the other way round. For Hasan, the rules were different. Incidentally, it was as if with each book he wrote he was repaying a debt. For instance, Partners in Freedom: Jamia Millia Islamia was not just an ode to the university where he rose to be the Vice Chancellor but an attempt to right a historical wrong. Over the decades, a lot of the focus was on Aligarh Muslim University and its role in providing education to the community—Hasan himself studied history there before going for a doctorate to Cambridge—and Jamia Millia was mentioned only in passing. The book corrected the balance in popular perception a little. A Moral Reckoning: The Muslim Intellectuals in the 19th Century Delhi was on similar lines. Earlier, he had written Islam in the Subcontinent: Muslims in a Plural Society .

Prolific writer

Between 2001 and 2007, at least one of his books hit the bookstores every year, and at times there were even two of them published. In all of them, he talked of lived Islam, Islamic traditions and the community’s unique culture and contribution. It all came together beautifully in The Legacy of a Divided Nation: India’s Muslims Since Independence . And a notch above was Moderate or Militant: Images of India’s Muslims . These books, while drawing their inspiration from the past, were pulsating with contemporary energy. In the preface to Moderate or Militant , Hasan said it all when he wrote: “‘O you who believe, steer well clear of supposition,’ states the Quran. The aim of this book is to take stock of the readings and interpretations of ‘lived’ Islam.... Even though some offer a slightly different point of view, the glue that binds my narrative together is the war of words around secularism. The battle lines are drawn, for at stake is the survival of a society that prides itself on nurturing a substantial tradition, Hindu and Muslim, of argument and pluralism.” He wrote this in 2008. He could have said it in 2018 as well. In this ability to transcend space and time lay Hasan’s greatness.

His genius was never quite understood, much less celebrated. Some regarded him only as a Left liberal historian. Others saw him as the man who was not in consonance with the world of Jamia’s Muslim character; however, they revised their opinion after he spoke up about the university’s minority status. In the common man’s eye, the shadow of The Satanic Verse s never left him. He was never allowed a dispassionate assessment, unfortunate considering that he had his own unique approach to history and never shied away from calling the right-wing’s bluff. He wrote passionately and energetically. More importantly, he used the past to debate, not to destroy.

He never ceased to surprise, though. As when he quoted the verses of the Quran accurately in his works. Or when he showed his little-known side of love for Urdu poetry and music. Fond of ghazals, he probably knew as much about music as an enthusiastic critic. Discerning readers, though, would not have missed Hasan quoting Mirza Ghalib or Faiz Ahmad Faiz in his academic works.

Along the way, some accolades did come his way: the Padma Shri in 2007 and France’s highest honour, the Officer of the Order of Academic Palms. They served as an affirmation of his ideology and his uncanny ability to say what he believed in without fear. He cared little for consequences. Indeed, his words were seldom a prisoner of wilful misinterpretation.

He fell silent over the past four years or so after the accident. His last few years were spent in the care of his loving wife, the well-known social scientist Zoya Hasan, who stood by him over the decades. As he battled issues of health he stayed away from the world of history and emerging challenges. But as he slips into eternal rest at Jamia Millia’s cemetery, we need his words. Fittingly though, his last resting place is illuminated by the moon, protected from wilful elements outside.

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