Hosay Trinidad. Frank J. Korom
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the oral poets to engage in acerbic political and social commentary. The oral performances within stationary rauz̤eh khvāni̅s were complemented by spectacular public events such as the special processions for ritual flagellation to participate in the imām’s suffering, a dual tradition that continues to the present day.25 I will return to a contemporary example later, but for now let us see how the two traditions historically came together in ritual performance.
For nearly two and a half centuries, the two traditions—public processions and private recitations—existed side by side but separately, each becoming more complex and at the same time more refined and theatrical. In the middle of the eighteenth century, the two traditions fused to give birth to a new dramatic form known as ta‘zi̅yeh khvāni̅, or more simply, ta‘zi̅yeh, in which villains could be distinguished from heroes by their style of oration.26 The master narrative still remained the Karbala tragedy, but scripts began to be composed about other martyred heroes who received the honor of having their own hagiographies come to life in performance. Since a number of figures from the beginning of time have participated in the cosmic drama of Husayn’s passion, it is not surprising that dramas written in their honor should have emerged over time to complement Husayn’s turmoil.
Pelly’s 1879 translation of a ta‘zi̅yeh manuscript serves as an excellent example of the expansion of the performance canon. His text comprises thirty-seven self-contained scenes ranging from the Old Testament ‘Joseph and his Brethren” (Scene 1) and the respective deaths of the members of the Holy Family (The Prophet [Scene 5]; Fatimah [Scene 7], Ali [Scene 8], Hasan [Scene 9], and Husayn [Scene 23]) to the culminating act, “The Resurrection” (Scene 37), with events leading up to the battle of Karbala sandwiched in between.27 Writing some three decades later, Wilhelm Litten lists fifteen additional plays, beginning with Ismail’s sacrifice and ending with a play about the sixth imām. This is followed by an act concerning the conqueror Timur, who figures prominently in legends relating the introduction of muḥarram observances into India later in the fourteenth century.28 Thus we see that the repertoire expanded to include pre- and post-Husayn figures, allowing the whole of history to participate in the cosmic drama of the supreme martyr’s passion. As Ayoub pointedly writes, “this long drama … has the entire universe for its stage and all creatures as members of its universal cast.”29
Staged performances of such narratives grew out of the processional observances held during the first ten days of Muharram. As a compromise between public/moving processions and the private/stationary recitations, reactualizations first took place at socially marginal locations, such as crossroads, and in places like public squares where large numbers of people could gather. Soon, however, they moved into the courtyards of caravanserais, bazaars, and private houses. Naturally, the need for specially constructed sacred spaces to remember Husayn arose as the performative tradition developed. Ayoub documents the early emergence of ḥusayni̅yyāt, buildings that were constructed for the sole purpose of mourning during the third century in Cairo, Baghdad, and Aleppo, which came to be departure points for public processions.30 These specially constructed buildings have their South Asian parallels in the imāmbāṛās and ‘āshūrkhānahs of north and south India respectively. Chelkowski has also written extensively on the development of special performance arenas for Husayn in Iran, and I summarize his findings below.31
Chelkowski indicates that by the nineteenth century, nascent dramas found their homes in specially constructed buildings known as taki̅yehs, an alternative term for ḥusayni̅yyāt. Wealthy members of the aristocracy funded the construction and maintenance of these arenas in urban areas. Some of the buildings had the capacity to seat more than a thousand people. Considerably more modest ones began cropping up, however, in towns and villages. Many of the taki̅yehs were temporarily constructed for the Muharram observances, and their architectural design allowed for dialogic interaction between the assembled audience and performers. The main action occurred on an elevated dais located at the center of the structure, a feature reminiscent of the raised platforms of the martyrdom narrators. Subplots could be performed in the space surrounding the central stage, creating intertextual frames of reference. Secondary stages on the periphery provided spaces from which actors could converse with those at the center. The overall effect was something akin to modern surround sound.
Corridors running outward from the center of the taki̅yeh were added to the central performing space. This arrangement allowed actors on horses and camels to come and go, as in a circus tent, rendering the entire building a performance space. Indeed, battles and other acts were enacted behind the audience, so that the feeling was one of being encircled by the dramatic action. This added effect enhanced audience participation. The taki̅yeh, in other words, became a microcosmic representation of Karbala that enabled spectators to participate in the historic events so central to their lives. The dynamics of the engagement of audience with performer through narrative enactment is one of the key features of events related to Muharram. Moreover, the theme of portable and temporary karbalā’s, the transposition of sacred space, is one to which I will return as the study proceeds to India and Trinidad in subsequent chapters.
In summary, ta‘zi̅yehs, like the muḥarram processions to be discussed at length below, developed historically as communal events, whether they were performed in houses, gardens, crossroads, or arenas, which makes them first and foremost social dramas. The important element in the observance was participation. An audience member could not just observe passively. The viewer had to show emotion by weeping in order to experience the suffering of Husayn, and only in this way could he or she completely identify with the martyr. Modern-day Muslim writers of polemical religious literature often even cite the physical benefits to be gained from weeping and wailing, just as New Age gurus, such as the laughing doctor of Mumbai, India, praise the healing effects of humor.32
In spite of the numerous historical transformations that contributed to the shaping of ta‘zi̅yeh as we know it today, the soteriological purpose remained constant: participation in the performance helped an individual obtain salvation through the intercession of the martyr. The vicarious suffering and death of Husayn was an instrument of redemption for all believers, and belief was manifested best in performance participation. Staged ta‘zi̅yeh has been central to the muḥarram observances in Iran for over four hundred years. It has also survived various political vicissitudes, such as the ban on ta‘zi̅yeh performance by Mohammad Reza Shah Pahlavi, who, in 1932 decreed that mourning rites were incompatible with his program of modernization.33 Despite his views about the rite’s decadent and backward character, it has remained a creative force of religious and national expression, especially at times of weakness and oppression. At the same time, it has functioned as an agent of social change.34
In the next section, I want to shift to the contemporary situation and the material dimension of the Muharram ritual complex, for I wish to draw attention to some motifs that will recur as we move from Iran to the Indian subcontinent and then on to the Caribbean.
The Contemporary Phenomenon
I described above in historical fashion the interrelated phenomena of stationary and ambulatory performances pertaining to Husayn’s passion. Now I wish to pay a bit more attention to the processional aspect of the rite. Dasteh (procession) is the term used most commonly in Iran for ambulatory rituals held during the months of Muharram and Safar.35 That dasteh can also mean a “division of an army” should immediately alert us to the martial imagery intended by the use of this term, for the symbolism of battle is central to the occasion.36 The most spectacular dastehs take place on ‘āshūrā’ and arba‘i̅n, and their most salient feature in Iran, up until recently, has been ritual flagellation (taṭbi̅r) performed by male members of the mourning community.
The flagellants, aged twelve and upward, are arranged according to height, the smallest preceding the tallest. Some of them who strip to the waist and strike their chests with the palm of their hands are called sinezans (chest beaters). Others wear black shirts cut away in the back so that the chains of their whips can fall directly on their flesh and are known as zanji̅rzans (chain beaters).