Volume 6, No. 5, May 2024
Editor: Rashed Rahman
The River
My father Mohammad Baqir Khan was born in a village called Dab Kalan, on the west bank of the River Ravi, in Tehsil (Subdivision) Shorkot of District Jhang in Punjab. The year of his birth is noted in the school record as 1914. He died on January 20, 1963, at the age of 49. Our ancestors trace back their bloodline to one Hindu Raja Kiran. We belong to the Kharal tribe of Punjab, which is mostly situated on the bank of the River Ravi. Legendary Kharals include Mirza Khan Kharal, part of Punjab’s folklore and the last character in the folk love stories of Punjab; Ahmad Khan Kharal, the most famous freedom fighter who killed a British officer, and Noor Muhammad Maharvi, founder of the Chishti Sufi Order in Punjab.
Tribal pastoral communities in Punjab were very egalitarian and democratic, and their code of conduct was based on a strictly defined code of honour known as Raathi. Tribal chiefs were elected. It was not a hereditary position. Only individuals known for their wisdom, courage and service to their fellow tribesmen were accepted as tribal leaders and known as Raaths. Tribal disputes were resolved by wise men in the village through community assemblies known as Sath Preh.
At the time of the birth of my father, my ancestors were making a transition from their cattle grazing pursuits to land cultivation and artisanship. Grazing cattle was the main occupation of the people living in the thick forests covering most of the land tracts between the five rivers of Punjab. These forest lands were called Bars. The wealth of the cattle grazing families was counted in the number of camels, cows or buffaloes owned by them. Soon after the British conquered Punjab in 1849 – 10 years after the death of the Sikh emperor Maharaja Ranjit Singh – they started clearing the forests and digging canals for land irrigation on a large scale. Old tribes mostly resisted taking on the cultivation of new agricultural lands as their means of livelihood. As forest commons available for grazing shrank, a class of big landowners emerged as the new power elite in Punjab. Eventually, pastoral tribesmen had to start looking for new occupations due to shrinking commons and consequent loss of cattle head.
The British created a landowning class after clearing the forests in the riverine valleys of the five rivers in Punjab, building the world’s largest canal network and bringing vast areas of land under cultivation. This land was previously ‘commons’ used by the pastoral tribes of Punjab for grazing. It was a common asset. The British started the process of land (or permanent) settlements, converted the irrigable land into private property and then gave as gifts large tracts of land to the local chiefs loyal to them. This class of landowners is known as the landed elite in Pakistan. But perhaps I have picked the wrong word; you can choose big landowners. This class has another characteristic also. They are absentee landlords. They live in the cities to play politics and sharecroppers work on their land, so they are also known as absentee landlords. Their power did not depend on their popular acceptance but on their close connection with the police stations set up by the British as the main pillar of their colonial administration. Under British rule, areas brought under cultivation and given as private property through their land settlements were known as Canal Colonies. The British converted most of the Punjab into Canal Colonies and destroyed the tribal commons. Canal colonies and the emergence of irrigated agricultural land as a new form of wealth changed the power structure and social norms. Power was now concentrated into the hands of a few filthy rich landlords. Most of the pastoral tribal people living in the forest lands were labelled ‘Criminal Tribes of Punjab’ by the British. Education offered the only window of opportunity for people who were bypassed by the Canal Colonies development in Punjab. Therefore my grandfather Lal Mohammad Khan decided to educate his son.
My father was the only surviving son of my grandfather. He had three sisters. My grandfather was a jeweller, but he wanted my father to receive a school education. As there were no schools in Dab Kalan, my grandfather moved to a village called Sarai Sidhu on the east bank of the Ravi to educate his son. Sarai Sidhu was perhaps the only village with a high school in the entire Multan District at that time. Sarai Sidhu also had Multan District’s best Panchayat (people’s court) during the 1920s.
The village Sarai Sidhu
It was a legendary village on many other counts also. It is said that the Hindu Avatar Ram, his younger brother Lakshman and his wife Sita stayed in Sarai Sidhu after Ram recovered Sita from Raavan. Raavan had kidnapped Sita and taken her to Sri Lanka. On return from Sri Lanka, Ram stayed in Sarai Sidhu. It is said that when Ram and his brother took a bath in the river, they wanted to keep an eye on their clothes. So, as they glanced along the river, a long stretch of river became straight. Therefore, the riverbank became a straight line between Sarai Sidhu and the village Tulamba. The points on the riverbank where Ram, his brother and wife used to sit are known as Ram Chauntra, Lakshman Chauntra and Sita Khund, and are preserved to this day.
It is also interesting to know how and when Sarai Sidhu got its name. Sarai means a guest house, and Sidhu is the name of a Hindu boatman. Legend has it that the Muslim King Sher Shah Suri camped near Sarai Sidhu during one of his military campaigns. One evening he expressed his desire to see the sunset from the river. His courtiers checked out various boatmen and selected Sidhu for the job. Sidhu conducted the boat tour so well that King Suri was extremely pleased and offered him a bag full of gold coins as a reward. Sidhu is said to have respectfully declined this gift. The King was intrigued by his refusal and asked him to explain the reason. Sidhu said: “People usually accumulate wealth for their children. It is through their children that their name is remembered in the coming generations. I have no children. I wish that you build a guest house in my name. This guest house will serve travellers free of cost for numerous generations to come, and my name will be remembered through this generous act.” The king agreed and the guest house was built. It had two sections, one for Hindus and the other for Muslims. Each section had separate areas for men and women.
Sarai Sidhu is situated at the convergence of two great rivers, the Ravi and the Chenab. River Ravi is known to be home to the most noble and chivalric tribesmen, while the Chenab men are known to be passionate lovers, whose captivating adventures are part of the folk tales of Punjab. The land between the two rivers is very fertile.
It is narrated that at one point Ram, Lakshman and Sita spent their days in seclusion and meditation at the bank of River Ravi in the vicinity of this village. Thousands of years later people of the village were haunted by genies who would take away babies from young mothers. It was a very agonizing and sad matter. People felt completely helpless. During these times a Central Asian saint named Arjan Sher camped outside the village. The villagers approached him for help. Saint Arjan Sher came to the village on the evening when the chief of the genies was supposed to visit. Arjan Sher was sitting on the back of a tiger and holding a snake as a whip in his hand. When the genie arrived, the genie and the saint started wrestling. The fight continued for one week. In the end, the earth under their feet softened and they went deep down into the hole fighting. The genie never came back, and at the spot where they vanished, a tomb of the saint was built. This tomb is intact in the village to this day. Adjacent to the tomb is a mosque that was collectively built by the villagers in one night. The name of the mosque is Masjid Shab Bhar, which means the mosque built in a night.
Before the creation of Pakistan, Sarai Sidhu was known for a legendary Lumberdar, i.e. village chief, Ganpat Rai, who was kind to the villagers irrespective of their caste and creed. It is said that he would secretly throw bags of wheat into the houses of poor Muslim farmers and artisans at night during difficult times. When he died his descendants tried to burn his body but did not succeed. While preparations for his death rites were underway, a big wave from the river is said to have swept away his body.
Certain well known historical political figures also contributed to the legendary name of Sarai Sidhu. Alexander the Great camped near the village on his way to conquer Multan and established a ship-making factory there. Also, Multan’s just ruler Sawan Mal used to hold his court under a Banyan tree on the outskirts of Sarai Sidhu.
The Native – a critical and fearless soul
My grandfather was a devout Shia. He named my father Fakir Mohammad (beggar at the door of the Prophet Mohammad). Before my father’s birth, my grandmother gave birth to a daughter and a son. The daughter was named Hasan Bibi and the son Gul Mohammad. Gul Muhammad died in infancy. My grandfather was very fond of his second son. Fakir Mohammad used to fall ill frequently. So, on the advice of friends, his name was changed to Mohammad Baqir Khan. Changing names was considered a sure fire treatment for illnesses according to popular belief because some names were considered to be very heavy for the person bearing that name. A few years after the birth of Mohammad Baqir Khan, his father decided to move to the village Sarai Sidhu across the river.
In Sarai Sidhu my grandfather Lal Mohammad Khan made his living as a jeweller and bought a piece of land as well. He built a mosque in the lane where he lived, which is in ruins now. My grandfather was a diehard Shia and wanted to make my father a Shia scholar. When my father grew up, he became a staunch Sunni and joined the extreme right wing political party Jama’at-i-Islami and rose to become a member of its Central Committee.
There is an annual mourning procession in memory of the martyrs of Karbala, who accompanied Prophet Muhammad’s grandson Hussain in his battle against the tyrant ruler Yazid. The horse named Zuljinnah, which leads this procession, was taken out from my grandfather’s house every year. Before the birth of my father my grandfather made a pledge that if he is given another son, he will chain him and take him to Mashhad, Iran, to the shrine of Imam Raza, highly revered among Shias, to pay him tribute as his spiritual slave and devotee.
My grandfather sent my father to a government primary school for receiving modern education, but he also wanted to make him a Zakir, a Shia preacher who specialises in narrating the mourning tales about the martyrdom of Imam Hussain, grandson of Prophet Mohammad (PBUH) and his family. My father was not admitted to any Shia seminary, but my grandfather wanted to train him in Shia doctrine. He picked an interesting way to teach my father. At times he would take my father to a nearby village to meet a devout Sunni known as Naseer Khokhar. My grandfather would engage in polemics with Naseer Khokhar so that my father could hear the arguments on both sides and develop a strong commitment to Shi’ism. My father would listen to these debates very critically for clear understanding.
During the course of these debates, my father started having serious doubts about Shia beliefs and started questioning his father as well. In the meantime, he finished his high school exams and moved to Multan city to study at Emerson College. He spent four years there, graduating with a Bachelor of Arts. During his college days, my father became the editor of the college magazine and attracted the attention of some of his teachers as an intelligent and gifted student. The college’s Principal Mohammad Ibrahim became a mentor to my father and introduced him to modern Sunni literature, as well as the writings of modernist Islamic political thinker Syed Abul A’ala Maudoodi. My father was deeply influenced by these thoughts, and the guidance provided by Professor Ibrahim. He finally changed his faith and converted to a Sunni. This was a great shock for my grandfather and a great puzzle for my grandmother. My grandmother was a Sunni but married to a Shia. Before my father’s conversion, she was a Sunni but perhaps did not express her beliefs openly. Now she did not declare rebellion but became ambivalent between both the sects. She used to say: “Both Shia and Sunnis are at fault, none of them follow what they profess; the truth of their devotion will be revealed on the Day of Judgment.”
Soon after college, my father joined an agricultural cooperative bank as an officer. As he became more aware of Islamic beliefs and the ideal of political freedom from British rule, he resigned from service a few years after the creation of Pakistan and joined the Jama’at-i-Islami. He rose to the rank of a member of the Central Committee of the Jama’at and was greatly admired by his colleagues for his commitment and courage. He spent many years in jail and was known as a very fine speaker and organiser.
The City of Multan, the abode of saints
Soon after I was born my father was arrested for participating in agitations demanding the declaration of Ahmadis as non-Muslims. He was sentenced to 10 years rigorous imprisonment and sent to Lahore District Jail. I have very vivid memories of some events from the age of two onwards. I was born in a neighbourhood of the walled city of Multan, which could visually be a part of fairy tales. Our neighbourhood was called Gali Kamangran, the lane of bow makers. One end of this lane connected our neighbourhood with Chowk Bazaar, the main bazaar of Multan. The whole city was built on a mound and divided into settlements occupied by people engaged in different trades. We had Kupri Talian (neighbourhood of oil expellers), Gur Mandi (sugar market), Sarrafa Bazaar (bazaar of jewellers), Choori Sarai (living quarter of bangle sellers) and Undhi Khoee (blind well), so named because the whole bazaar was covered with thick jute sheets to keep it cool, which also made it very dark in the scorching heat. There were winding streets, and the whole town was dotted with mosques and shrines. Each shrine had a legend associated with it. For example, it was believed that if you left your home to visit the Shrine of Zahir Juaan and did not speak to anyone on your way, any question you had in your mind would be answered on the way to the shrine.
In the last days of his life when my father was hospitalised after being diagnosed with a brain tumour, my grandmother visited the shrine of Zahir Juaan. On her way she heard someone uttering in desperation ‘putr, putr, putr”, meaning son, son, son. She figured out that in the search of life for her son she will keep calling son, son, son and he may not be with her for very long. That is what happened.
The city was surrounded by a thick high wall. The wall was so broad that it is used as a road to this day. This wall is called Alangh, meaning a barrier that cannot be crossed. There are six gates around the city created by openings made in the wall. These gates are called Lohari Gate, Daulat Gate, Delhi Gate, Pak Gate, Harem Gate and Bohar Gate. Lohari Gate and Delhi Gate are so named because they are built in the direction of Lahore and Delhi. The word Pak stands for ‘pure’, and Pak Gate leads to the shrine of the great Sufi saint Musa Pak Shaheed. Harem Gate leads to the quarters of singing and dancing women. Close to Bohar Gate is situated a big Banyan tree, called Bohar in the Multani language. This tree was held in high regard by the local Hindu population.
Next to the shrine of Musa Pak Shaheed inside Pak Gate was Sarrafa Bazar, which to this date is inhabited mostly by Ismaili jewellers, who display pictures of their Imam in their shops. Multan at one point was an Ismaili kingdom, which was destroyed after numerous attacks by Mahmud of Ghazna. The great Ismaili Sufi Saint, Shah Shams, is buried outside the walled city. Shah Shams is perhaps the saint who converted the grandson of invading Mongol Warlord Helegu Khan, named Tagudar Khan, to Islam. Tegudar Khan accompanied Shah Shams to Multan after he left his native town in Iran. One of Multan’s settlements outside the walled city is said to be named after Tegudar Khan’s son, Tolay Khan.
A corner of the outer wall of the city between Delhi Gate and Pak Gate is known as Khuni Burj, meaning bloody tower. It is said that here Alexander the Great’s armies had a bloody fight with a ferocious warrior tribe of Multan known as the Mollois, and he was wounded. He could never recover from this wound and died because of it. This shows that despite Multanis being very peace loving because of Sufi influence, they are resilient fighters as well.
Connected to the walled city is the grand old fort of Multan known these days as Qasim Bagh, named after the seventeen year old Arab Muslim General who conquered Multan in the 8th century. This fort housed the army. Nowadays the fort is home to the shrines of two great Sufi Masters: Bahauddin Zakria, the grandfather, and Shah Rukne Alam, his grandson. The picture of Shak Rukne Alam’s tomb has become a symbol of Multan. Qasim Bagh is a park with a restaurant, sports stadium, a memorial of two British soldiers who died during the conquest of Multan, a small underground museum, a high and broad patio almost like the rooftop of the city known as Damdama, a couple of newly built shrines, and a Hindu temple that was destroyed in retaliation for the destruction of the Babri Mosque in Ayodhya, India, a few decades ago.
There are two very interesting anecdotes narrated about the Sufi Saint Shaikh Bahauddin Zakaria. It is said that when one of Genghis Khan’s Generals came to invade Multan, Shaikh Bahauddin met him outside the city. Genghis Khan’s army had not spared any town on their way from bloodshed, loot and plunder. However, Shaikh Bahauddin convinced the General to accept 125,000 dinars as a tribute and spare the city. Multan was perhaps the only city spared the wrath of Genghis Khan’s armies due to the intervention of Shaikh Zakaria. When Shah Shams came to Multan, Shaikh Bahauddin is said to have sent him a bowl full of milk, meaning that the city is full of saints and there is no room for a newcomer. Shah Shams put a rose on top of the milk and sent the bowl back, conveying the message that what I have brought is different and there is room for it among the believers.
Life in the Walled City of Multan
As a child I remember seeing long, colourful and elegant bows displayed outside the bow maker’s shop. I don’t know who bought and used these bows. It was a long narrow lane having small shops of doctors, traditional herbalists, grocers, artisans, blue tile makers, camel skin lamp producers, grocers and retailers. Opposite the bow maker’s shop was a mosque where the day started before the crack of dawn with the call for prayer. Next to the mosque was a barber’s shop that opened right after the morning prayer. The barber’s shop provided hot water and bathing facilities to customers from out of town. A herbal medicine doctor next to the bow maker’s shop began treatment of every ailment under the sun with the provision of a laxative. According to traditional Greek or Hindu teachings, he thought that the stomach needed to be fully washed before giving any medicine. His medicines were mostly bitter, and my mother had to squeeze my nose before dispensing the medicine so that I was not deterred by its smell and taste. Close to my house on the other side of the lane was the shrine of Bangay Bilal with a two story grave. To this day I have not been able to decipher the mystery of this grave.
Next to our house was a big buffalo yard, which exists to this day. We lived in a big Haveli (traditional house with a big enclosed courtyard), which was formerly owned by a rich Hindu optometrist. This gentleman left Multan due to the communal riots after Partition. My father helped him escape unhurt and cross the border into India. My father became a settlement officer in Multan. His job was to identify the evacuated property and allot it to people who claimed to have left property of equal value in India. We lived in a rented portion of this Haveli. A sword in a black sheath and a big optometrist’s lens box left behind by the owner of the Haveli led to the narration of this episode about his departure. He was kindly remembered by my family members.
I remember walking through Gali Kamangaran with my father as a small child. Shopkeepers on both sides of the lane would rise to respectfully greet my father with Assalam-o-Alaikum, a greeting that means ‘peace be on you’. I was only three at that time and lived with my mother, paternal grandmother and cousins. We had a pair of ducks at home and one of them landed on my back while I was taking a bath. You cannot imagine the hue and cry I raised after this event. We had an old servant with a henna-dyed long flowing beard, called Laal Din. One morning he came to deliver groceries and I stepped out to answer the door. Laal Din lifted me up and kissed me on the cheeks to express his affection. My face got wet and I did not like the gesture. I reacted very angrily. Right at that time my father appeared from nowhere and saw me rebuking the old man. He got furious. When he came inside, he asked me: “Do you know this man is older than your father? He deserves respect. How come you rebuked him? Don’t you feel ashamed?” I was a spoilt brat. I did not expect this reprimand from my father. I was in shock. He pushed me out the door, asking me to apologise to Laal Din and not return until I was forgiven. As soon as I came out, I looked at Laal Din and started crying. I folded both my hands and apologised. Laal Din affectionately picked me up and hugged me and said: “Khan Sahib, I forgive you.” I tried to go back into our home, but my father did not allow me to enter. He first asked, “Did Laal Din forgive you?” “Yes,” I said. “No, let me confirm first. Only then will you be allowed back home.” Finally, I was allowed back home. This was a powerful lesson that stayed with me for the rest of my life. It was invaluable teaching. I learned to be self-critical and developed the courage to admit mistakes and change my views and attitude.
On the one hand, my father was a very humble man, and on the other he was very courageous, affectionate and generous. When Jama’at-i-Islami chief Maulana Maudoodi was sentenced to death for his role in the anti-Ahmadi movement, he was sent to the District Jail Multan. My father used to visit him there and arranged books, meals and other needed items for him. During one visit Maulana told my father that the Deputy Superintendent (DSP) of the jail was rude to him. My father slapped the DSP in the jail. The DSP did not expect such treatment. He was humiliated in front of the prison mates. He apologised and promised to be nice in future.
My father lived a very simple life, worked very hard, and strictly observed the values he believed in. He also taught me to do the same. I used to polish my shoes as well as my father’s. He encouraged me to do many chores at home. Outside home whenever he saw fruit peel on the street, he asked me to pick it up and throw it in a garbage can. When I was five, we first moved to a house outside the walled city and then to our own house in a newly developed colony. My father was a successful businessman and could afford to buy a car. However, he used to go to his store on a bicycle, and I went to school on foot. He admitted me to a government school where the children of the rich and poor studied together sitting on jute mats. He believed that it was important for my character building, and he was right. He could have sent me to a private English medium school, but he didn’t. In my class we had children from extremely poor working class families to extremely rich business families. Most of my classmates used to walk to school together.
I still remember many of my classmates in primary school. I have very fond memories of these friends. I remember them by name: Khuda Bakhsh, who used to work in a fuel wood stall in the evening; Gul Mohammad, who used to help his father in his bike shop; Shaukat, who was the son of a school peon; Abdul Shakoor, son of an Afghan family who lived in a tent across the road from the school, and Abdul Ghafoor, son of a rich construction contractor who would don expensive army general’s attire at times. All of us used to walk together, joining the other members of the group at different points along the route. There used to be little brawls at times, but we were friends and cared for one another. Loving people irrespective of their economic and social status was the second most important lesson that my father taught me through his decision to send me to the government school.
The Police Post 41
My father owned a big departmental store in the main square of Hussain Agahi. This store had been allotted to a Muslim migrant from India. It was a big three story building. The first floor was used for the sale of merchandise and the second floor for storing the stocks. The third floor had a big terrace and a toilet to keep the bad odour out. The owner of the building also had his house almost half a kilometre away. My father rented this building and after quitting government service started his own business. He left his government job after he decided to join Jama’at-i-Islami and engage in active politics. He was friends with the owner of the store building, Mirza Musarrat, and sent me to take lessons from his wife before I was admitted to a school. Mirza Musarrat was a very learned man, and he started a very fine high school after settling in Pakistan. Because of his services for education in Multan he was fondly remembered as the Sir Syed of Multan after his death. My father became the first president of the school known as Millat High School and Mirza Musarrat remained its lifelong Principal. Millat School was situated in an area outside the walled city called Chowki Chehel Yak. Chehel Yak is a Persian word that means 41. Chowki means police post. Perhaps during pre-British times, it was part of a chain of police stations.
It would be extremely interesting to talk a little bit about Millat High School here. It had two sections, junior and high. I was admitted in the fifth grade in the Junior School. The founders of Millat School wanted to make education a means of character building of the students. It was a private school and charged a high fee for providing quality education. But children of poor parents like peons, street vendors and domestic employees were given fee concessions or waivers. School started with a morning address (called Sabahi Khitab in Urdu) by the Principal. It used to be the explanation of a verse (ayah) from the Quran or a Hadith (saying or tradition) of Prophet Mohammad (PBUH). The address was broadcast on a microphone by the Principal from his office and delivered through a sound system consisting of many loudspeakers to the classrooms. Once a week, after the morning address, there used to be a morning assembly attended by all the students. During the assembly, students were inspected by the teachers for wearing school uniforms, neat and well-pressed and buttoned dresses, proper haircuts and clipped nails, polished shoes and neat appearance. This was done in the classroom at random on weekdays as well. We had long school hours and Zuhr and Asr prayers (afternoon and late afternoon prayers) were offered in the school in winter and only Zuhr in summer. There were no lunch arrangements so each of us used to have a really heavy breakfast to survive the day.
School used to have a quiet study hour in each class every week; a debating class called Bazm-i-Adab; a House of Commons-style debate once or twice a year; an Akhuwat Store (Brotherhood Store) not watched by anyone where students would pick stationery items and deposit the price in a card box – the purpose was to train students in honest dealing and self-responsibility. Corporal punishment was not allowed in the school. A couple of teachers were dismissed from the school for violating this rule. Students, unlike the students in all other schools in Pakistan, never addressed their teachers as ‘Sir’. They were asked to take the name of the teacher while talking to him and only add the word Sahib (it means Mr in English) at the end to show respect. For example, we used to call our principal Mirza Sahib, because his name was Mirza Musarrat Baig. We were encouraged to speak pure Urdu and pure English, not the kind of Minglish (mixture of Urdu and English) that has a universal presence in Pakistan now. From time to time our school used to announce a project. During this project, lessons were delivered keeping in view the theme of the project. These projects included the Seerat Project (meaning project on the life of the Prophet). This project was run during the month of Rabi-ul-Awwal when our Prophet was born and highlighted his life through lessons in various subjects; Ramadan Project (during the fasting month), and Wahdat Project (about the unity of Pakistan, which fell in the month of August because Pakistan was created on August 14, 1947). My father moved from the street of bow makers to Chehel Yak in 1957. Chehel Yak had other claims to fame as well, and I shall dwell upon them and some of my teachers later.
Teachers and Madaaris (seminaries) in Chehel Yak locality
Our school had another interesting tradition as well. Each class in our school had two sections. Unlike other schools, we did not have A and B sections. Each section was named after a great Muslim leader or scholar. For example, we had Tenth Ghazali and Tenth Khaldun named after two great Muslim scholars Imam Ghazali and Ibn-e-Khaldun. Similarly, we had sixth Khalid and Sixth Tariq named after two great Muslim generals. There was only one drawback in our school that I can recall. It shared a wall with a police station and the police lock-up was right next to our classroom. At times when policemen were conducting ‘educational’ sessions with the people in custody, their agonising cries would send shivers through our bodies. But it perhaps happened once or twice during my entire stay in the school. We were lucky to have some very interesting and accomplished teachers who were very knowledgeable, unique and independent in their thinking. I would like to mention three of them, Syed Ismail Rushdie, Abdul Hakim Sarmad and Maulana Moinuddin. While both the President and Principal belonged to Jama’at-i-Islami and had moulded the school on the Jama’at’s way of thinking, these teachers reflected very diverse religious and political views.
Syed Ismail Rushdi was an Urdu-speaking secular teacher from Hyderabad, Deccan, India. He was a great teacher, very perceptive, tolerant and affectionate. He never gave us homework. He said you should play after school. You need a balanced and healthy life and your share of fun. I don’t want to kill the child in you with excessive homework. If I give you an essay to write you will seek help from your brother and father, and I will end up testing their capability, not yours. He always gave us ‘homework’ during class hours. He liked students who were creative, not the ones who were good in reproducing the book based on cramming. He was perhaps a poet also. On political issues, he was very open and a maverick. For example, he said that we want Kashmir not because of the right of self-determination for Kashmiris but because all our rivers originate in Kashmir. It is a war for water, not rights. However, he was accepted and respected for his views.
Abdul Hakim Sarmad was a great teacher. He had received education at a seminary, Mazahir-ul-Uloom, Saharanpur, in the vicinity of the world famous Darul Uloom Deoband in Utter Pradesh (UP), and was a Deobandi, having serious differences with Jama’at’s religious and political views. He was a poet and a great storyteller. During the 1964 national elections when the sister of Pakistan’s founder Mohammad Ali Jinnah known in Pakistan as Quaid-e-Azam (the great leader), Ms Fatima Jinnah, who was also known as Mader-e-Millat (Mother of the Nation), contested the presidential election against military dictator General Ayub Khan, Sarmad Sahib supported Ayub Khan. We used to have heated debates with him. At one point we asked him why he supported Ayub Khan. He said he is a capable leader. We asked him what the quality of a good leader is, and he said recognising talent. He said Ayub was gifted with this quality whereas Mohtarma Fatima Jinnah had people with questionable credentials around her. We disagreed with his conclusion, but I was impressed with his logic. One day he told us that he interviewed a Khandani beggar, i.e. a thoroughbred beggar. The beggar extolled four qualities: beg everywhere, all the time, from everyone, and beg for everything. Sarmad Sahib was a Seraiki from Kundian area of Mianwali district but a good poet of Urdu. Once he narrated a beautiful couplet of a fruit vendor in the class. Kothay pe jo aya Mah Jabeen pehney huay do balay, Khalqat daikh pukar uthi ek Chand hay or do haley. It would translate into something like: when my love came to the terrace of the house wearing two earrings, the people immediately quipped there is one moon with two halos.
One of our unique teachers was Maulana Moinuddin. He was a Multani who lived in the walled city and taught us Arabic. He was very kind to his pupils but very strict about studies. If students did not pay attention to his instructions, he would show his displeasure and take them to task. His brother-in-law Faiz, a very gentle fellow, was our classmate. One day there was a shrieking sound from the back benches. It turned out that this noise was coming from Faiz’s school bag. On search, a parrot was discovered. Faiz told the class that this parrot got an electric shock sitting on an exposed electric wire, fainted, and fell down. He wanted to take it back to feed it and then free it. His explanation was accepted. Some of our classmates thought that Faiz was a gentle person to the degree of foolishness. He had learned this affection for animals from his brother-in-law Moinuddin who used to keep his buffaloes under a shed and installed a ceiling fan in it to keep them cool in the summer, while there were no ceiling fans in the house. He was a member of Jama’at-i-Islami but when the police cracked down on Jama’at, they could not find any excuse to arrest him. He was arrested on charges of spitting on the road and wandering around.
We had two prominent Madrassas in the vicinity of our school. One was Anwaar-ul-Uloom, headed by a renowned religious scholar and Sufi teacher Allama Ahmad Saeed Kazmi. Kazmi Sahib at one point headed Islamic University Bahawalpur also. The other was Madrassa Qasim-ul-Uloom, headed by Maulana Mufti Mahmood. Syed Ata Ullah Shah Bukhari, a great orator and famous religious leader who headed Majlis Ahrar-ul-Islam and spent years in prison fighting against British rule, also lived in our neighbourhood. All these gentlemen knew my father and enjoyed very cordial relations with him. I remember Maulana Mufti Mahmood visiting our home. Mufti Sahib emerged as a great political leader, heading the opposition’s political alliance against the government of Zulfiqar Ali Bhutto. He is the only leader who defeated Zulfiqar Ali Bhutto in the 1970 elections when Pakistan People’s Party swept the polls in West Pakistan (present day Pakistan). Our neighbours included a milkman Allah Wasaya, a horse coach driver Mattu Shah, a lawyer’s office assistant Munshi Abdur Rehman, a cinema manager Khalil, a lawyer Abul Latif Choudhry, and a renowned poet Aasi Karnali.
We had very cordial relations with all our neighbours except for a few minor scuffles with the boys of my age. My younger brother Ayyaz was born the day General Ayub Khan announced Martial Law in Pakistan and banned all political parties. Tanks rolled out on the streets of Multan to let people know that Pakistan’s army had ‘conquered’ its own country. The next day a party of eunuchs visited our house. It was a tradition that eunuchs visited the homes of newborn children to offer greetings and receive tips. They would crack jokes, dance, sing, play music and embarrass the father of the baby if they were not given a handsome amount of money. At times more than one party visited the newborn baby’s home. These eunuch groups used to sit on the lawn of the Municipal Committee building and learned about new births when family members visited the Committee offices for birth registration. My father due to his strict religious beliefs was against eunuchs and their performance. He considered singing, dancing, drawing pictures and women taking off the veil against Islamic teachings and strictly followed his beliefs. He happened to be visiting home when a party of eunuchs who was visiting us found out that he was the baby’s father and demanded money from him. My father refused to give anything, and they made fun of him in a respectable way. He soon left and the eunuchs were tipped by other family members.
We lived with many paternal cousins and a paternal uncle (Phuppa) in this house. Our neighbourhood was visited by many street vendors. These street vendors sold groceries, seasonal fruit, bakery items, ice cream, dairy products, clothes and many other household items. They would knit charpoys (cots), polish utensils and exchange used clothes and household items for pottery.
(To be continued)