When erstwhile rulers decided to cover open drains with locally available red sandstone slabs or patiyas, little did they realise that they were unwittingly creating the mise-en-scène for a city tradition that simply refuses to die.
Back in the day, the few affluent in the city entertained guests in the deodhis or foyers of their houses, as the purdah tradition forbade menfolk from inviting outsiders into the sanctum of their homes. The deodhis were only open to invitees.
If the elite had access to these private entertainment spaces where men gathered for discussions, debates, qissas, and leg-pulling, the hoi polloi had found an equivalent on the patiyas that had apparently been planned to curb cholera, a killer disease at the time.
Come evening, working-class men would gather to sit at these patiyas and discuss life and everything that surrounded it ’til the wee hours over cups of chai, supplied by tea shops in the vicinity that were prompt in tapping into this new market.
Not surprisingly, these meeting places were looked down upon by the elite, who believed them to be symbols of working-class wannabeism. The rich, however, were not the only critics of this exclusively male domain, which continued to draw resentment from women.
Young brides viewed them as a bane, for their grooms often left them behind to hang out with their comrades at these highly addictive meeting places. Some complained that they felt insecure at the sight of these exclusively male gatherings.
Under feminine rule for generations, the average Bhopali woman of the day was a comparatively politically evolved specimen. Though no one is sure if the ladies engineered it, the patiyas soon started to be visited by law enforcers who shooed away the men, scattering them indoors.
After India’s Independence, the abolition of jagirdari and privy purses saw the elite embrace socialism at these very patiyas, where they realised that intellectualism, poetry, philosophy, and politics were not, after all, the exclusive domain of a privileged few.
This dismounting of the high horse by the elite added a profound yet simple phrase to the city lexicon that noted these arrivals as patiyon pe aa jaana (to finally arrive on the patiyas).
Tonight, with the commencement of Ramadan, the patiyas of Old Bhopal will come alive in a celebration of this city tradition that the law enforcers will overlook until Eid.