Sikander Begum in New Delhi
I need bedsocks and candles, winter shoes and a linen dress. Ann-Bridget took this picture. She’s a visual artist from Wisconsin and fellow resident at Sanskriti Kendra. We braved the traffic madness and pollution, the day-time Delhi dust, which I’m told by a friendly taxi driver, settles by night, to stroll the chic ambience of Kahn Market followed by a visit to the Sridharani Art gallery for an exhibition of colonial archival photography. The exhibition features the work of James Waterhouse, a seminal nineteenth century ethnographic photographer who captured the tribal and caste diversity in his astonishing study; The People of India. An Indian army officer and assistant Surveyor General, Waterhouse’s contributions were in the fields of cartography and scientific photographic research. The first camera he acquired in India was a half-plate set made of French walnut, to withstand the hot, dry climate of the central provinces. He was meticulous in his attention to the processes required to preserve his prints. Waterhouse portrays both low and high caste, both Moslem and Hindu subjects with equal dignity. I was impressed, in particular, with his depictions of Sikander Begum, the tenth ruler of Bhopal, who, in the time of Queen Victoria, recognised the legal rights of a Muslim woman to rule state. Sikander ruled with an iron fist. True to her name, which means “Alexander the Great” in Arabic, she was intrepid. She never observed purdah and was known for her proficiency in martial arts and her love of tiger hunting. Louis Rousellet, a French traveller in 1876 makes the following observation: ‘The Begum is a woman of about 50 years of age. Her thin face, lighted up by a pair of intelligent eyes, expresses such a singular amount of energy that one must be aware of it beforehand in order to realize that a woman is standing before you. The costume itself aids the illusion: tight fitting pantaloons, an embroidered jacket, and a poniard at the belt, have, as a whole, anything but a feminine appearance. Her gestures and manners still less remind us of her sex; on the contrary, they reveal the sovereign and the autocrat accustomed to find everything yield to his powerful will, but I once add that this majestic haughtiness lasted only for a few minutes, and soon gave way to a gracious and winning affability. It may be said that the Begum Sikander is, in every respect, one of the most remarkable types that India has furnished us with in this century.’ ’
