The skilled sipar-makers of Patna

As the glass sipar moves through the streets of Patna, the shimmering dome-shaped structure is a sight to behold. “From the swords to the shields, and even the anar [decorative pomegranates] that appear to pierce the sharp end of the swords, everything is carved out of glass,” says Nazre Imam, speaking about the sheeshe ki sipar, the pride of the city.

This intricately detailed glass sipar makes an appearance in Patna during Muharram processions. Resembling a decorated armoury once carried to battlefields, it holds all sorts of weapons including swords, shields, bows and arrows with decorative elements that draw from at least a dozen crafts.

Around a kilometre from here, towards the south of Patna city, Mohammad Naser, 40, has just finished working on his sipar and is standing near the door of his workshop with his daughters, taking a final look at his creation. The delicate creation is displayed in the verandah; nearby are a few houses and a mazar (shrine) in the old locality of Bagh Kalu Khan.

“It is not a one-man-job,” says craftsman Naser. “It’s an amalgamation of many artistic skills. Some are native to Bihar, and others are from different parts of the country.”

He cites examples of aari, zardozi, kasheeda kaari, chaapa, nag, and sometimes meenakaari craftwork that can all be found in the sipar. (Aari is a technique which uses a hooked needle to embroider intricate designs on cloth; Zardozi is embroidery using metal threads; Kasheeda kaari is a Kashmiri-style embroidery done in Bihar and chaapa is a woodblock print of metallic colours.)

The sipar also has meenakari – enamel painting, and the nag craft of pasting finely carved and sharpened gemstones on clothes.

“Patna’s sipars were made in a way that local artists could pay their homage to the martyrs of Karbala,” adds Naser, referring to the Muharram procession in which it plays centrestage.

At the workshop in Patna’s Bagh Kalu Khan, Naser has worked along with Raju, Izhar and Feroz on the sipar. Raju specialises in zardozi – fine metal embroidery – and is giving the final touches to the sipar to be paraded the next morning.

“Zardozi is the heart of sipar. It can be seen on the sehra [decorative veil] that is central in the sipar,” says craftsman Raju and adds smiling, “a sipar isn't a sipar without a sehra, and a sehra isn't sehra if it lacks zardozi.”

“In fact, zardozi isn't zardozi if it's not made by Raju bhai,” says Izhar Hasan teasing his colleague, his mouth filled with paan (betelnut). The men work together in the months of Muharram and Safar (the first and second months of the Islamic calendar) to make sipars.

The 47-year- old Izhar is one of the finest sipar makers and heads this workshop in Bagh Kalu Khan, near Patna’s Jama Masjid. He adds to the gentle banter between the craftsman by saying that while he agrees that zardozi is the heart of a sipar, “just a heart is of no use!”

“It'll be tough to find anyone in the city who knows as much as Izhar bhai,” says Feroz - another worker who is popular as ‘Rani bhai’ – named jokingly for the intricate designs he creates as though working for a royal queen (rani).

Smiling at the compliment, Izhar said that whatever he knows about sipar is because of his teacher, Ustad Sulaiman Miyaan. “The way Mohammad Rafi [famous singer] was gifted with a golden voice, Sulaiman Miyaan was gifted with a golden craft. He taught this art to everyone who came to his door – both Hindus and Muslims, but no one could reach his mastery,” adds Izhar. He turns around to greet Nazre Imam, glass craftsman who has just stepped in to pay his respects to the sipar.

Nazre Imam and his brother Mehdi Imam are second generation glass craftsmen. “The first glass sipar was made by their father Manzar Hasan and they are carrying on his legacy,” Izhar introduces his old friend.

“We apply everything that we learnt from our father. It takes more or less two months to prepare the sheeshe ki sipar from scratch. All of its elements, except for its wooden base, are made of glass,” adds the 57-year-old Nazre Imam.

The brothers have been making and displaying it since 1992. They say that aside from the religious and spiritual reasons, have been doing this for Patna’s history. Nazre goes to add that with the passage of time Patna has evolved and changed, losing a number of traditions from its cultural past. “The craft of making a sipar has survived till now, but even this is on the verge of extinction,” he adds.

His brother Mehdi says, “this sheeshe ki sipar is the last surviving example of a lost art from Patna’s past when the city was known for its glass work.” He is lighting incense sticks to place them in front of the sipar.

The brothers say that the traditional glass factories of Patna have shut. “Whatever glasswork that is still happening in the city is all machine-made and uses Chinese material. “Our father Manzar Hasan, alongwith Gopal ji, Ram Das ji and Ram Janki ji were the last of the glass craftsmen of the city,” Nazre tells PARI, adding that when they passed on so did the art.

The brothers’ display their work in Sangidalan where it was displayed by their father as well. Sangidalan is now a bustling market place and has one of the first Imambaras of Patna built by Nawab Syed Ahmed Ali Khan Qayamat of Doolighat.

Crafting a sipar is a month-long process, but sometimes it can take even two or three months to finish a piece. The first step in crafting a sheeshe ki sipar is to make a dhaddi – a mihrab or dome-shaped wooden base for the sipar. A hadwa – a replica of double-edged sword is tied to the wooden base. Usually five hadwas are tied to it, but the number can exceed seven. Talwars (curved swords) are tied at the top, and once this is done, an aini is attached to the sipar which works as a base to the shields which are added in the next step.

“Just this much takes upto a week of work,” points out master craftsman, Izhar.

For the back of the sipar, the work is no less involved. Multiple layers of cloth are wrapped to make a base for the different fabric and then jhalar is attached – it’s long colourful strips of fabric such as handmade wall hangings or chhapa, aari or boota, he Izhar adds, reeling off the names of Bihar’s famous handmade textile traditions.

The final bit is bringing together all the parts. “The sehra is separately prepared by the artisans and is now tied to the sipar. Ropes of flowers are tied to the sehra along with arzi, booti and patta [other textile traditions].

The glass pomegranates are then added,” adds Izhar.

Working with delicate glass in such detail puts a strain on the craftsmen who have no safety equipment or health cover. “I am getting old and so is Mehdi, and our eyes are not the same as before and it becomes harder and harder to work on glass with weak eyesight” says Nazre Imam.

The glass dust irritates the eyes and so cataracts are a common problem, as are conjunctivitis and blurred vision. “You can’t even use a lot of light while working on a piece of glass,” Nazre laughs gently to lighten the mood.

Izhar says after a pause, “I am quite proud of it but I don’t know for how long this is going to continue.” The craftsmen were gathered around as it was a day before the Chehlum procession; Nazre Imam had come with his sipar in the evening, and kept it for the display. This has been the annual ritual since his father’s time and it takes place post the maghrib (evening) prayer. Locals start arriving to light candles and agarbattis near the sipar to offer homage.

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The sipar is usually readied to be displayed on the tenth and eleventh day of Muharram, and also on the twentieth and twenty-first days of Safar.

As the sipar moves through the crowds, thousands of bystanders, both Hindu and Muslim, jostle for space between the numerous food stalls and makeshift shops selling toys, ice creams and more. It is a fair, a mela of sorts – differing from the Shia procession during Muharram where followers beat their chests, crying and mourning the martyrdom of Imam Hussain, a centuries-old martyr.

According to Islamic history, around 1,385 years ago, in Karbala (present-day Iraq), Hussain, grandson of Prophet Muhammad along with his brothers, friends and children was brutally murdered on the tenth day of Muharram, known as aashoora and commemorated as a day of grief. The fortieth day of his martyrdom is marked as Chehlum or Chaleeswaan when Hussain’s family members were released from captivity and were finally allowed to mourn the death of their Imam.

In Bihar’s capital city Patna, Hussain's sacrifice is recalled through elegies and public display of grief, and the sheeshe ki sipar that resembles the relics from the Battle of Karbala is a centrepiece. The sipar travels from Ashok Rajpath to the Takiya Shah Baqer on the Sher Shah Road.

Shahzad is a 28-year-old resident of Bagh Kalu Khan, an old area within Patna city. He has come to pay his respects to the sipar at Sangidalaan on the occasion of Chehlum – the fortieth day of Imam Hussain’s martyrdom and observed among Shia Muslims 40 days after Muharram.

“The art which was once widely appreciated and attracted patrons from all over Bihar, is now diminishing,” he tells PARI as he lights candles to commemorate the occasion.

But others don’t agree. At least in one akhada – a committee formed to take care of the preparations and procession – young people are interested in taking the tradition forward. The head of the akhada that displays the sipar at Patna’s Hammam has seen a change as the Khalifa (elected leader of the akhada and president of the Sipar committee) is retiring from his post, and young craftsmen, Naushad, Bhanu, Rahul, Sahil, Nehal, Shahid, Amaan and Asif have now divided the responsibilities between them.

Most of the localities in the old city of Patna have an akhada and sipar of their own. Each Akhada moves with its sipar in a procession, and each group carry their music systems playing tunes of lament and eulogies. Young men vie to take the sipar onto their shoulders through the alleys till it reaches the main road.

In Patna, both Muslims and Hindus are involved in the making and display of the sipar – a glimpse into the city’s Ganga-Jamuni tehzeeb (a fusion of cultures).

Rajeev Ranjan says his forefather, Kashi Lalji Kaseera was renowned as one of the finest craftsmen of sipar in Patna. And since 1840, his family have been displaying a sipar on Chehlum every year at their home in the city’s Guzri Bazaar. “His [Kashi Lalji Kaseera’s] legacy of making and displaying the sipar is now our duty, and each year his grandchildren and great-grandchildren come together to pay homage to the martyrs of Karbala,” says Rajeev.

The sipar made by Kashi Lalji Kaseera is annually displayed in a room that houses an idol of Hanuman. Speaking of the two two traditions displayed side-by-side, Naresh Kumar, a member of the family adds, “as they were in Azeemabad, so they are in Patna,” using the old name for Patna, pre 1857, preferred by old timers when referring to the city’s glorious past.

This story is supported by a fellowship from Mrinalini Mukherjee Foundation (MMF).