People of present and past in ‘Mango Country’ of Malihabad

There is no better time to explore the history of a region dotted with mango orchards than the peak of the fruit’s season. A short drive from Lucknow lies Malihabad, now internationally known for its mango orchards. Predictably, its most famous spot is a mango tree – this one is believed to be over a century old and grows as many as 300 varieties of the fruit – yes, that many, on a single tree.

Equally predictably, Malihabad’s most renowned living figure is a mango grower. Horticulturist Kaleemullah Khan may have studied only till the seventh standard but that hasn’t prevented him from growing 300 varieties of mango on his tree using innovative grafting techniques. It is the kind of work a scientist would have been proud to accomplish. Khan was awarded with a Padma Shri back in 2008.

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Unlike Kaleemullah, Mahtab is not famous, nor does he have any scientific aspirations. He owns a patch of land, which he inherited from his father and on which he has a few mango trees. He is proud of his Dussehri, perhaps as much as Kaleemullah is of his 300 varieties. He also has a truck, which he uses to take mangoes from collection centres in Malihabad to buyers outside. His wife makes mango pickle, and a few more things. It is a truly mango driven economic system in these parts driven by various ‘Aam Aadmis’ – no pun intended on any political party.

There are even ‘mango crimes’ here. It could start with a land grab, or to be more specific, an attempt to grab someone’s mango orchard. This has caused violence in the past, including some instances of people firing at each other. People have also died in this, hard to imagine when one is wandering through a peaceful and shady orchard.

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Back to Mahtab, he is also fond of ‘Itihaas’. To him, that word refers to the tombs he played in, inside mango orchards. As a boy, they appeared mysterious places with hidden treasures waiting to be discovered. As an adult, he is sad to see them crumbling, their stories lost and their occupants forgotten. As a citizen of Malihabad, he is vaguely conscious of a certain responsibility to protect its architectural heritage.

His favourite spot is called ‘Barakhamba’. When I walked there with him, it revealed itself to be just one part of a large medieval necropolis. At its prime, the complex was a walled compound punctuated by gateways, and may have had a garden within. At its centre is a tomb that is elegant even in its ruined state. It was built as the last resting place of Shamir Khan, once the governor of the Mughal province of Awadh.

The ‘Barakhamba’ itself is a cupola topped structure that stands in a corner of the complex, its twelve supporting pillars giving it a name. The pillars are dilapidated, and if one falls the entire thing will come tumbling down. Inside is an inscription indicating that two sons of Shamir Khan died untimely deaths in a year that corresponds to 1567 CE. No tombstones remain in the structures, the insides having been levelled. Vegetation is devouring the place and with the gateways crumbling, the place has become a spot for cattle looking for rest.

There are several other tomb remains in the orchards. One is simply called by the generic name ‘maqbara’ and is hidden away amidst the undergrowth. One wonders how many more tombs are tucked away here and how many such structures have been lost entirely?

Mahtab showed me one structure that is totally obscure, a baoli or stepwell. Sans an inscription, it is hard to date this structure but one imagines people coming for picnics into mango orchards and drawing water from the well to refresh themselves. Entering the well today is a surreal experience. At surface level, there is some sunlight breaking through the gaps of the mango trees. But as one goes below, the place is dark. The breeze coming through the trees makes a sound which feels strange below ground. It is a perfect setting for a ghost story. Few people seem aware of these structures now, and one gets a sense that they would welcome the collapse of these buildings to be able to use the land for other purposes.

The local community, largely Muslim, claims descent from Afridi Pathans who came here three to four centuries ago. In the early 2010s, the place was of interest to Jewish scholars who even took DNA samples of the people here. The theory that was floated was that the Afridis here may have descended from a Jewish tribe, a suggestion that came to be deeply resented locally.

What is also unclear is the origin of the name ‘Malihabad’. One account says that it was named after Sheikh Malih, relative of a Sufi who settled here during the reign of Emperor Akbar. Another theory goes further back in time and holds that it was founded and named after Malhia Arakh, a local ruler who came from the Arakh clan of warriors.

The arrival of mango plantations in the region seems to be clear. Credit is usually given to Faqir Muhammad Khan Goya, a nobleman in the service of the Lucknow Nawabs in the early 19th century CE. The last name to recount from this town is that of a great-grandson of Goya. Born Shabbir Hasan Khan, this person went on to win great acclaim as a poet under the title ‘Josh Malihabadi’. Apparently this illustrious family, starting from Goya himself, had several men of letters and Josh became the most famous. Sadly, like many from this region, Josh Malihabadi too migrated to Pakistan in 1956.

Close to Malihabad is Kakori. It is renowned for its dargahs, which are still in worship, as well as tombs and medieval havelis. Kakori has its own stories and legends, which will be told some other day, but the culture of Malihabad spreads here as well. A visitor would do well to savour the mangoes in Malihabad and then hop over to Kakori to check out its kebabs.

The author is a heritage explorer by inclination with a penchant for seeking obscure sites. A brand consultant by profession, he tweets @HiddenHeritage. Views expressed in the above piece are personal and solely those of the author. They do not necessarily reflect Firstpost’s views.