Author’s Note - Golden were the days I spent
with my beloved!
Ah! This life and this beautiful companionship
of 56 years. I, a pampered 17-year-old child of
my parents - I wondered how this journey could
pass with honour and respect. But what were the
thoughts buried in my mind, and what was the
fragrance of this sandalwood! Subhan'Allah
[Glory be to God]! The freshness it brought into
my life is beyond description, no, absolutely
not! My merciful and affectionate life partner,
respected Qazi Sahib (Qazi Ali Muhammad),
showered such blossoms of his love and affection
upon this insignificant being that I am
incapable of even describing them. My parents
and neighbours were astonished by this affection
and appreciation, Alhamdulillah. And my
father sahib's choice proved correct.
I won't leave the beloved's footsteps, as long
as I am alive,
One word revealed, I won't be here then,
Felicitations to the herdsmen, I will give
going to the village,
How can I remove the loi [shawl/blanket], for
the sake of two days?
–
Shah Abdul Latif Bhittai
My prayer is that Allah Pak, through His ocean
of mercy, grants them a place there in the lush
gardens of Janat-ul-Firdous [highest
level of Paradise]. Ameen Summa Ameen [Ameen,
then Ameen].
And my sweet, dear, life-giving son, Shahid, who
gave recognition to this book, guided me, and
encouraged me, despite his countless
engagements, supported me, may his great reward
be obtained from the court of Allah Sain,
Insha'Allah [God willing]. How much thanks
should I offer to my Rab Pak, who bestowed upon
this sinful servant such courageous, righteous,
and virtuous offspring. And all the time, both
brothers and all sisters are in this thought:
"How can Ami remain happy?" But this is a place
of gratitude for me that the entire progeny –
sons, daughters, daughters-in-law, and
grandchildren – all are concerned that Ami
should not face any inconvenience in any way.
How can I offer my gratitude to the Master Sain
[Lord], whose favours upon me are beyond
counting, yet I cannot refrain from writing.
While writing this book, my sweet dear Farhan
Jani [darling] used to stay with me, and when I
wrote a little and read it to him, he would say
with great affection, "Ami Jan, this is very
good. What next? Please write." May Allah Sain
keep everyone happy.
While writing these words, I also offer thanks
to Allah Sain that when my child Shahid
consulted with Aftab Abro Sahib, saying, "Sain,
please look, my Ami has written a book," and
what can I describe, Abro Sahib looked at it
with such deep thought and held this humble
effort of mine in the measure of utmost deep
regard, love, and affection, the description of
which I cannot write. Only and only this request
I make to Allah Sain, may Allah Sain grant him a
great reward for it. May He make his name shine
like the bright day, Insha'Allah.
Ameen.
As for our dear, universally loved Mehtab Akbar
Rashdi Sahiba, I cannot count her favours, who,
like my own daughters, took this book and held
it close to her heart. She told me, "Ama, this
book of yours must come into the field. Our
nation should know that even in our backward
regions, there were some jewels whose sparkle
illuminated place after place." Now again,
Mehtab, like my daughter, is writing an article
about me. I can only present her with the gift
of prayers, which is indeed greater than
anything in the world – the cool breeze
emanating from the heart - Ama [My dear
daughter]! May you be happy and prosperous with
your family.
There is much more to write, but congratulating
and welcoming all of you, I conclude. This is
the autobiography of my life, and the joys and
sorrows I have described in it, though they are
mine, I have also shared some stories of the
community in them, from reading and
understanding which, the new generation can
learn lessons.
Fatima Zahra Qazi
 ‘Aaoon
Je Ihaee Zaat’
[I am that very being]
Allah Tabarak wa Ta'ala [God, the Blessed and
Exalted] has sent every human being into this
world endowed with some quality. For quite some
time, a desire arose in my heart that I should
write something about myself and my parents
according to my deficient intellect and
understanding. There was also the thought that
perhaps our children might not know about the
deeds of our elders or our grandparents and my
father Sahib. The qualities they were endowed
with by Allah Sain, I must inform my offspring
and other dear ones about them - Insha'Allah.
May Rab Pak grant me the ability to write
correctly, without any exaggeration. May that
Lord bestow this kindness upon me because, due
to correct writing, firstly, our offspring or
readers can derive guidance from it, and
secondly, they will be encouraged.
Human life in this universe is a great asset and
a magnificent status granted by nature. Allah
Tabarak wa Ta'ala has given human beings the
title of Ashraf-ul-Makhluqat [the noblest of the
creations]. Meaning, He has honoured them above
all creation. That is the glory of nature. Human
beings have been kept distinct in every aspect.
They have been given intellect, understanding,
courage, the discernment of good and evil,
meaning, they have been sent endowed with
everything. After sending us, He also presented
two paths before us humans: Good and Evil. Now
it depends on us humans which path we choose to
take. Following the commands of Rab Pak and
following the preaching of Nabi Karim [Prophet,
the kindest] (peace and blessings of Allah be
upon him), how do we improve and adorn our world
and the hereafter. Indeed, it is an accepted
reality that whatever anyone has received is
given by the Master Sain, and not all humans are
equal. If they were equal, then how could there
be a trial! How would the good receive the
result of their good deeds and the bad of their
bad deeds? The apparent and the hidden are
within the power of Rab Ta'ala.
"I am not self-propelled; the reins, O Lord, are
in Your power;
If You move me, I move; if You stop me, I stop,
O Lord."
Man, the poor creature, tries his best. He keeps
moving, taking the support of his Rab Pak. The
lesson we received from the Hadi e bar Haq
[True Guide, referring to the Prophet PBUH].
Thousands, crores [tens of millions] of
blessings are upon that Merciful Lord, who
created us among the Ummah of Nabi Pak (PBUH),
Alhamdulillah [Praise be to God],
Shukr Alhamdulillah [Thanks and praise be to
God].
Whatever is in the universe, all that is Your
attribute,
Of the Almighty's power, all are
manifestations,
Beyond Trillions, the favours of the Foremost
have gone far.
Evident with the tongue, how many can I
count?
–
Shah Abdul Latif Bhittai
The prayer at the Lord's door is that the Lord
grant us the ability in this world also to walk
with honour, peace and safety, and with good
morals, following the guidance of His Beloved (PBUH).
Ultimately, one day we have to appear there too,
so that we may rise with smiling faces and not
be ashamed before the Prophet (PBUH).
Insha'Allah.
O Allah, You are the Master of both worlds, I am
helpless and humble. I cannot be saved by my
deeds alone; show me some turn of favour.
Now I wish to come to the main point. For a long
time, I had this desire in my heart to write
something about myself and my parents. Thinking
and thinking, much time passed - today, at the
time of writing, my age has reached seventy-five
years. Every single moment of life, every single
hour, every single day, months, years seem like
a dream. What did that life give us! What did we
gain from it! What lessons did we learn!! Profit
and loss played together, side by side. We too
kept walking along with them. What we saw in the
past, I wish to write that. May I be able to
write, with the grace of Rab Sain, from which my
offspring and readers can truly learn lessons,
Insha'Allah. Ameen.
The Carefree days of Childhood
I was born on the 4th of April, 1927
in the town of Diplo, on a Friday. My ancestors
were major landowners of the Diplo taluka
[administrative subdivision] and were the
Mukhis [chieftain/headman] of the town.
Their name remains established even today and
will remain so, Insha'Allah. My Baba
[Father] would always be in his Otaq
[meeting place for men], which we used to call
Kurh [sitting place/hut], where
gatherings of people would be held - servants,
attendants, dhanars [cowherd/cattle
keeper], etc. all would be there. There used to
be a grand assembly! That Friday morning, around
eight o'clock, Masi [maternal aunt]
Rahmat informed Baba that a son had been born to
him. Actually, Ibrahim, my Mama [maternal
uncle], was born five days ago; Masi Rahmat,
being a child, thought that all mothers give
birth to sons. So she told Baba the same for my
birth. Baba happily came home and saw that it
was a 'girl', but even then, he was very happy.
He said, "Whether it's a daughter or a son in
the mother's womb, that is the decree of
nature." He came and gave me much love. He told
Ama [Mother], "This is my little doll. I will
name her Fatima Zahra. Insha'Allah, the
Merciful Master Sain [Lord] will make her
endowed with the highest capabilities and
virtues. She will have a long life -
Insha'Allah." They informed Dada
[grandfather]; he too was happy hearing the
name. He told Baba, "Son, you have chosen a very
lovely name for this child. Allah will honour
this name - Insha'Allah, I will call her
'Panil' because my Bua [paternal
aunt] Panil, who was Mama Ahmed's wife, had
passed away." He gave me her name. Anyway, Dada
truly loved me very much.
A child is small today and big tomorrow. I
already had one sister whose name was Hoor Bai.
I was six months old and playing in the cradle
when Dada passed by. He told Ama, "Mai
[woman/term of address] Wasi [short name for
Wasandi], this little Panil will undertake great
journeys." Ama said, "Kaka [paternal
uncle], her mother hasn't even seen beyond
Parhiyari [a nearby village], and the daughter
will undertake great journeys!" Dada said, "She
has padam on her foot [lotus sign on
sole, indicating auspiciousness]. She is very
fortunate." As a child, I used to be very
clever. Sister Hoor was indeed very sensible,
but she used to be serious. In comparison to
her, I was clever. I was the focus of attention
of every elder and younger member of the family
and the neighbours. Due to Baba and Ama's
immense love, I was the center of everyone's
attention. Sometimes, in pampering, I would lie
on Baba's belly, and Baba would hold me on his
palm and spin me like a top. I remember that
clearly. Ama used to say, "Mian [sir/term of
address for husband], you are spoiling the girl;
she won't even respond to us." Baba would simply
laugh. Sometimes Baba would ask for water, and I
would say, "Baba, you keep asking for water
whole day; I won't give you!" And he would again
laugh. Ada [elder brother/term of
respect] Ehsan used to say, "Aba [Father], you
have spoiled this girl so much that she will
cause trouble." Baba would say, "Son, this
daughter of mine will do great things. Why are
you getting jealous? She is little; she is just
being affectionate."
Eventually, I grew a bit older. We had a lot of
livestock: ten or twelve cows, two or three
buffaloes were always present. There were loads
of milk. Large pots were constantly churning in
the house, two or three churns of milk would be
whirled, which Ama and Ama Safian [stepmother]
used to churn. They would start right at Fajr
prayer time. We used to eat plenty of butter
and dhonro [curd] daily. Even after that,
one seer [unit of weight, approx. 1 kg]
of ghee [clarified butter] would be
produced, from which we used to make wisnaan
[a type of sweet]. There were heaps of millet in
our house. We wouldn't store it in sacks. Dada's
shop was downstairs. Heaps of grain would be
stored there on the floor. During the monsoon
season, we would go to the market to buy
pipoon [type of wild grass, rural Thri folk
would eat it] and kondhir [swellen root
of pipoon]. We would fill the phaand [hem
of a dress] with grain and take it along. There
was no one to stop or restrain us. During the
rainy days, I used to go catch little gaaba
[calves]. I would run along with them. People
used to say, "This girl is like a deer! She runs
alongside the Lohari gaba [calves]!" In
the morning, Ama would make charooriyoon
[Copper milk pot - pitcher] shining like gold
and give them to me. Placing two or three on my
head, I would go swaying and swinging. Our
dhanar [herdsman] named Natho, who used to
live in our kurh, would tease me,
and say, "Mukhi Sahib, the charooriyoon
are coming, but there's no person underneath!"
Just hearing that would be enough; I would throw
down the charooriyoon and say, "Baba,
explain to this wretch; he's laughing at me."
Baba would say, "Friend Natha, don't tease
Fatoori [Fatima’s loving nickname]; you know she
reacts, yet you don't stop." Then he would
console me, saying, "I'll beat Natho." Alas,
those days passed away! Along with time, man
also keeps moving in its current.
Our Baba was very sensible and a man of high
intellect, moving with the times. Let me tell
you one thing: what our parents, mother and
father, were like, and how people bowed to them,
and how they were world-famous. They were the
essence of gatherings. So, when I turned six,
and Hoor turned eight or nine, Baba thought that
boys have advanced, become proficient in English
education too, they are getting jobs, but girls'
education, apart from the Qur’an Sharif [Holy
Quran], there is none! That is indeed very
necessary for every Muslim, but according to the
current times, this education is also necessary
because, moving forward, this matter will prove
very difficult, and our daughters will remain
uneducated. There will be a difference in the
boys' thinking. At that time, he was the
chairman of the 'Sanitary Board', so he gathered
his fellow members, Kaka Mukhi Soomar, Mukhi
Tilok Chand, Mukhi Balo Mal, Mukhi Hemandas,
Mama Abu Talib, and made efforts. Our Qazi Sahib
[means, Qazi Ali Muhammad] who was the manager
of the Mulla Maktab [Islamic primary
school] at that time, they used to impart
Islamic education; it was a semi-government
institution. It also had a grant; I didn't know
that, which I learned today from Qazi's book.
They also advised that female education is very
necessary here. After all, it wasn't a task for
just one person to do. As they say, "Even a
roof, lifted by many, can be moved." So everyone
unanimously approved the matter. Then, forming a
delegation, they went to Mirpurkhas (District
Headquarters of Tharparkar) and got the school
approved. They were very happy. All educated and
enlightened people praised Mukhi Sahib's
efforts. In 1933, the school was approved. In
our neighborhood, Mukhi Hemandas had a place,
very nice, built solidly, and suitable for the
school. Two school rooms and one room upstairs
on the courtyard were also built. Baba asked
Kaka Hemandas to vacate it for the school. A
teacher also came from Mithi because we didn't
have any lady teacher. His wife, Mati Bai, was
also a teacher. Chacho (uncle) Dwarko Mal was
very intelligent, broad-minded, and sensible. He
belonged to the Karar caste; what can be said,
how sensible he was! He was skilled in teaching.
Baba gave him full cooperation. He also gave
permission to live in that place, so they were
very happy. A peon was also appointed. First,
both of us sisters and Masi Rahmat were
admitted. Halima Masterani's mother, Masi Weer
Bai, was also a formidable woman. She heard that
the school had opened. She admitted her
daughter. Baba went to every house, made people
aware, and acquainted people with the light of
knowledge. Slowly and gradually, children
started coming in droves. The enthusiasm for
knowledge was growing very well. Then, a Qur’an
teacher was approved for our school. That was my
Nani [maternal grandmother]; she was very
proficient in the Qur’an Sharif. Children also
received scholarships. That effort was also
going on side by side. One was the normal
scholarship, and the other was the Bond
scholarship, in which the condition was that she
would work for us for five years. Baba preferred
the latter one. I received it. The former one
was three rupees per month, and this one was
nine rupees per month. In that enthusiasm, I
paid more attention to studying. After three
years, our teacher Dwarkomal and Mati Bai were
transferred. In her place, Sita Bai came. She
too was very disciplined and extremely
intelligent, trained in the Training College. In
comparison, Mati Bai was only Final (Grade VII)
pass. Baba had a habit of not eating without me.
Between our house and the school, there was only
one wall, which still stands today. Baba would
stand there and call out, "Fatoori, Baba, come
let's eat." And I would act coy, so my peers
would laugh at me. Sita Bai would say, "Fatima,
ja [go]! Wadero is calling, he'll get
angry." She spoke Hindi. So I would go
reluctantly. Baba would say, "Amri [My dear
girl], what can I do? Your Baba doesn't feel
like eating (without you), be sensible." Then,
as I passed by the lower shop, Dada would be
sitting there. He would call out, "Oh, this is
Panil. I recognize her gate! Son [daughters are
conventionally addressed as sons], fill the
huqqo [hookah pipe] for Dada." I would say,
"I am not Panil. I am Khatiyani [a Hindu
caste].” I used to say it with a lisp. Saying
this, I would run away. I wouldn't fear that
Dada would get angry or he would be offended.
Eventually, I reached the fourth grade. Then Adi
[Elder sister/term of respect] Samani's
engagement took place with Ada Abdur Rehman. And
Ada Qazi's [Qazi Ahmed Muhammad] engagement took
place in the Siddiqani family with Haji
Siddique's daughter, Jana Bhajai
[sister-in-law]. Both received jewelry according
to their status, and Hoor was also given
bunda [ear buds] for her ears by her
in-laws. It was our custom that women would come
to see the bride-to-be. So, the Waniyanyoon
[women from the Hindu trader caste] and
Khatiyanyoon [women from the another Hindu
caste] living in our neighborhood also came.
Hoor wore those bunda. Samani was
engaged, so she also put on jewelry. Then, Mai
Kasturi from our neighborhood, who used to be
very clever, said, "Look at Hoor, don't look at
Sami! [Meaning Hoor looks much beautiful]." My
sister Hoor, who had studied four grades in
school, we set her to do embroidery. She used to
do mukko [a type of embroidery] work and
bhart [embroidery] so skillfully that
people would touch it to see. She also
embroidered my cholo [blouse] with
mukko. Perhaps Hoor Bai left all these
memories behind for her short life. At that
time, we didn't even appreciate it; the poor
girl passed away in innocence. She used to make
papar [crisp flatbread] with us. No one
has made such papar to this day!
"Had I known they were departing, those
ascetics,
I would have spent wakeful nights chatting
with them.
They left me in the hut, they left me in the
hut,
They tangled me with grief."
–
Shah Abdul Latif Bhittai
Alas, recall them again and again, yet their
memories don't fade. At that time, right away,
in our neighborhood, Ada Muhammad Ishaq's son
Ada Ahmed's wedding took place in 1941 with Adi
Samani, whom I still call sister to this day
because after Hoor, Baba placed his hand on her
head and said, "Ami [a loving title given to a
daughter], you are our Hoor.”. It was her
wedding, and it was our fourth-grade exam. At
that time, Sahibs [officials] used to come from
Mirpurkhas to conduct the exams, and we had
Muhammad Ismail Ursani, a very capable,
talented, and appreciative person; the more
praise given to him, the less it is. So he came.
The late Muhammad Ismail Ursani, when he
conducted exams, used to stay in the musafir
khano [travelers' lodge]. Food would go from
our house. The wedding was going on, and the
musafir khano was also nearby. The wedding
was proceeding with great festivity. That day
was our Sindhi composition paper. He asked,
"Write about the customs observed in the wedding
in your neighborhood." Since the whole wedding
was in the neighborhood, I drew a detailed
picture. The Sahib liked it so much that he
called me over, made me stand next to him, and
said, "Baba [child/term of love], how do you
know that weddings happen like this and these
are the customs?" I answered clearly. Others had
also written well according to their ability,
but he liked my description the most. Twenty
five marks were allocated; he gave me the full
25 marks and also praised me. In the same year,
my sister Hoor Bai, Adi Samani, and Ada Qazi (Qazi
Ahmed Muhammad) got married. Ada Qazi was
marrying with much enthusiasm. He was also a
teacher in Diplo - English teacher - had also
done his B.A. from Karachi, so he brought nice
clothes for his bride and along with that, for
Adi Samani, and also some pearls and gems. Now,
who would thread those pearls! For that, Nani
and Mami Wasu (Wasandi) were needed. Ada Qazi
used to call Hoor Bai, Nani, so giving her a few
pearls, he pleased Nani and got those clothes
embroidered by her. The sister was skilled with
her hands, so she embroidered theirs, but from
what my uncles gave her as nanahat [gifts
from the maternal side], she also made her own
clothes from that. And since at that time my
uncles, Masha'Allah, had also become
well-off financially, so they wanted that Hoor
may not to be less than Samani and Jana. Hoor
certainly had that feeling of inferiority that
her in-laws were poor; that was quite evident.
Eventually, the wedding took place. My sister's
dowry, in terms of embroidery and decoration,
turned out very beautiful and fine. The cholo
she had embroidered with mukko was a
masterpiece. I still remember it today. The poor
girl, in the short span of eighteen months, what
did she wear! And then, chikno [a type of
embroidered cloth] had arrived at the
Siddiqani's shop from India, selling for nine
rupees; Mama Ahmed brought that too. She had put
a border of pearls on its edge, and on the satin
shalwar [trousers], when she wore that
dress, she truly looked like a fairy. She didn't
even wash those clothes once or twice before the
poor girl passed away. We put that chikno
over her (body). Crying, crying, Baba and I bid
her farewell. Some moments are unforgettable. We
gave the clothes to Mithi Ma'a [mother
figure/respected woman], who was her teacher of
Qur’an Sharif. At that time, it was such a
sorrowful state that we didn't even think of
keeping her mementos ourselves. She breathed her
last saying "Fatima, Fatima". Her mother-in-law,
Masi Rahima, had a habit of keeping roasted gram
in her pocket. She would give it to her to eat,
and the poor girl would put it in her pocket and
bring it for me at school. And I would throw
tantrums, saying the girls laugh at me because
my sister has brought something. She would say,
"Girl, I am the one looking after you; no one
else will." And indeed, it happened just like
that. How was I to know this bond was for such a
short time? Then I would long for that call for
the rest of my life! We used to get things at
home: fried snacks, betel nuts, some sweet and
sour things; those too I would keep with Samani.
She used to get very upset. She would tell Ama,
"Ama, Fatima doesn't even let me keep things.
More than Sami, I die for her; she doesn't even
care!" I, being carefree, indeed paid no heed. I
used to think the same way, that poor Sami (Samani)
has neither sister nor brother; her father was
also that Ehsan; who else would care for her?
But after Hoor's departure, I realized that that
was my mistake. Alas, Hoor left me, parted from
us.
As long as she was alive, she never sat idle,
She went into the earth, remembering her
loved ones.
–
Shah Abdul Latif Bhittai
Despite such immense love, I had one habit,
which was this: if anything happened in the
house, I would run and put my hand on Ama's
mouth, saying, "Don't speak loudly; Baba will
hit you." Although Baba wouldn't hit, his
authority in the whole house was such that we
all feared him.
As I grew a little older, I don't know why, I
always had this thought that I should be useful
to someone. May Allah Sain make me such that I
can be of help to someone in need! My heart used
to be very compassionate. When studying,
whatever lesson I read, I would read it with
great concentration. There was one lesson in the
fifth grade, "Haste is the work of the devil."
In it, a woman killed her pet mongoose. She had
left her child sleeping in the cradle and gone
to fetch water herself, and a snake came near
the child's cradle. The mongoose killed the
snake. When the woman saw the mongoose sitting
there, near the cradle, she neither hesitated
nor thought, threw the water pot [dilo]
at the mongoose. The mongoose died. Later, the
woman saw that the snake was lying dead. Then
she regretted it immensely. I remember that
lesson well, and it affected me greatly. Another
verse in the book, I liked that very much too
and would hum it all the time, and still,
sometimes, I repeat it –
If you do
good, good will happen to you; the Lord will
reward you for goodness;
When someone does good to you, how much peace
comes to you,
Then why wouldn't others also feel joy, when
goodness is done to them?
So, I used to remember these things, and still,
the effort is that good should come from our
hands to someone, and also, I give this lesson
to my own offspring. When they come having done
any good deed, I feel very happy and give them
blessings. I hope that still, through my hands,
someone may receive benefit, so that I may offer
thanks to Rab Pak. To all my children, which
include my sons, daughters, grandsons,
granddaughters, and those connected with them,
may Allah Sain make them all righteous and
virtuous, Insha'Allah.
Writing about my childhood, I don't know where
I've reached again! When I turned seven, I used
to keep fasts too, and in our courtyard, which
nowadays we call a veranda or lounge, there used
to be my cradle. It is still there in that
courtyard as a memento. All day long, until the
fast broke, Ama would spread a mat and keep
rocking me, and Baba would repeatedly ask, "How
is my Amri [My dear girl]? Has the fast affected
her?" Writing this, remembering their affection,
my heart fills up, thinking, oh, I didn't value
these priceless treasures at all! They slipped
away in childhood. When I played with my peers,
I used to be the leader among them all. They
would do as I said. There was no question of
'no'! It used to be the rainy season, the month
of Aahr [Sindhi month corresponding
June], extreme heat, we would get holidays from
school. I would tell my friends, "Come to my
house." Many cowherds would be sitting in the
Kurh. I would tell Baba, "Baba, put up the
swing," and the order would be instantly obeyed.
In our Otaq, there were two neem trees,
which are still there. The swing would be tied
to them. We would go dancing, jumping, running,
reaching there, including (Halu) Halima Nawaz
Malarani's mother; Makan, Dr. Akbar Moledinani's
mother; Adi Fatoo (Fatima), Mama Abu
Talib's daughter; Adi Halima Partani, Ada
Siddique Wakeel's wife; and poor Kariman, our
Qazi Sahib's daughter – I used to take her along
because there was hope of getting nice things
from her father’s shop! One evening, I went with
Karoo (Kariman) to the shop for something. I hid
and sat inside a Khokho [large storage
bin/box]. Karoo went to get the item. What
happened was that a scorpion was sitting in that
bin, which stung me badly. I ran from there
screaming, all the way from near Qasimani's
house to my home, scream after scream. Baba, who
was sitting outside on the khatt
[charpoy/cot], told Ama, "Wasu, this scream
sounds like Fatoori's." Ama ran to the door,
"What happened? What happened?" I said, "I don't
know what happened to me in the khokho."
The poor parents got worried. It turned out it
was a scorpion. Immediately, Mama Mehran came
and performed a jhaarr [traditional
ritual to remove sting/poison?]. The pain
subsided. That pain went away, but the sting
remained. Then, all night, poor Ama rocked me in
the cradle and passed the night. That love and
affection are still imprinted on my heart today
and will be remembered until the end of my life.
Today, in the ‘Otaqs’, the lineage of the Yogis
is not found,
Remembering the ascetics, my soul cries all
night,
For whom I yearn, those ascetics, have
departed.
– Shah Abdul Latif Bhittai
Forgot the poor, happiness and buying;
Longing made them martyrs, the Maroo [village
folk] of Jam Malir.
–
Shah Abdul Latif Bhittai
These things, how many can I count? Though every
parent loves their child, I don't know where
this affection came from. When I talk about Ama
and Baba with my children, nights pass, but the
stories don't end. My children are also so
virtuous and righteous that they listen with
great interest and love, for which I offer
immense thanks to my Lord, Alhamdulillah.
When my friends used to come, my parents would,
as if, sacrifice their lives for them, thinking
where to seat them.
Now, about studies. The fifth grade was passed;
the sixth grade began. In 1941, Hoor Bai and
Samani got married. During that time, the final
exam also had to be taken. That wedding also
went well. My uncles also distinguished
themselves, giving a very good nanahat
[gifts from the maternal side]. The sister had
her first child; a three-month miscarriage
occurred. Again, a three-month miscarriage. Then
Samani and Hoor both had children. In the
meantime, poor Mama Ahmed passed away. I still
remember his humble eyes because he left no one
behind from his own loins to remember him. Ama
was deeply saddened by her brother's loss, but
Hoor, whose life breath was in Mama Ahmed, felt
immense grief. She couldn't even see his face at
the time of his passing due to her child. I was
busy with my studies. The lessons and verses of
our sixth grade were very instructive and had
settled deep in my mind, so much so that I still
recount them with interest in my conversations
from time to time. The lessons learned were:
good thoughts elevate a person to a high rank;
secondly, a fruit-bearing tree bows down due to
its fruit; thirdly, a verse about Marui [heroine
of Sindhi folk tale Umer Marui], which my sister
often used to sing, Baba would make her sing it.
She had the voice of a koel. Just as her name
Hoor was, so was her voice!
O Umer, I will not exchange huts and humble
dwellings for your palaces,
In the layan [a desert bush] and laanan
[another desert bush], I will settle my own
huts.
Wearing silk, I will not disgrace the loi
[shawl/blanket];
Among reeds and kirarr [Capparis decidua
bush], I will settle my own huts.
It's quite a long verse, but I don’t remember it
now. If I remember more later, I will write it
down, Insha'Allah.
The fourth lesson was to keep your tongue under
control. That was the title of that lesson,
which I still remember today. From that day
until today, I absolutely keep trying, and I
keep advising my children too, to try and keep
your tongue under control because this tongue
does great things. It's the same tongue that
makes a friend an enemy and an enemy a friend.
How many skies does the tongue tear apart!
Whoever kept it under control has, as it were,
become perfect.
Adi
Halima and Adi Fatoo, who was Master
Bhaledino's sister, were one grade above me.
They had given the final exam the previous year.
They also got jobs, and the female teachers
stopped coming from Mithi. During studies,
teaching work also continued because I was an
unqualified teacher. A permanent job would be
available upon passing the final, but through
the efforts of Ada Qazi and Baba, I was
appointed as an unqualified teacher. That salary
and scholarship... I was also a Qur’an teacher,
so in total, I used to get about twenty-four
rupees. Ama and Baba used to be very happy, as
it was a great support for them. Eventually, I
went for the exam. Twenty days before that,
Nasim was born, meaning Samani had her child,
but Hoor's child hadn't been born yet. The time
was due. Because of that, Baba couldn't go. He
told Ada Abdul Rehman, "Son, take Fatoori."
Nephews used to take care of their uncles, so he
went with me. At that time, Halima, the daughter
of Kaka Parto, joined me. When we reached the
school to get our seat numbers, all the teachers
were sitting together and warmly welcomed us.
What happened then was that a teacher's husband
had passed away some time ago. The poor woman
was wearing black clothes. Halima, who was very
outspoken, immediately said, "Fatoo, is she a
servant?" She heard this word. I signaled Halima
to be quiet, which she also noticed, and
everyone else saw it too. With tears in her
eyes, she said, "Sister, I am a servant by fate;
otherwise, who would call me a servant?" She
said this in her native language. Meanwhile,
another woman sitting next to her pointed at me
and said, "This girl standing here is from a
noble family. But she, beside her, she seems
like an uncouth.” They started commenting. In
the meantime, our Sita Bai, who had become the
headmistress in Mithi at that time, heard this
and said, "She is from Diplo, the daughter of
Wader) Gul Muhammad Mukhi and the other one is
just a shopkeeper's daughter." I told this to
Baba, and he was very happy at my conduct. He
said, "Never speak without thinking or
understanding."
After we finished the exam, we went to the
market. There, I saw clay parrots, colorful and
beautiful, and bought them. Then we left in the
morning. On the way back home, we stopped at
Malhyar (a village), where our farmers lived. We
refreshed ourselves there and then moved on.
There, I saw that one of the parrots' necks was
broken. I felt very sad and immediately had a
feeling of a bad omen. I wasn't that young, I
was fourteen years old then. I kept it in my
heart and moved on. When we reached our well in
Diplo's wathan [animal pen/yard], which
is still called Qazi Allah Rakhio's well, we met
my sister's sister-in-law, Wasu, who was Nawaz
Partani's mother, and Adi Aasu, Halima's mother.
I asked them from atop the camel, "Adi, has my
sister had a child?" They said, "Yes, a son is
born." But I didn't sense happiness in their
faces. I asked, "Why are you telling me like
this?" They didn't answer. I certainly got
scared. Finally, we reached home. At the sound
of the camel, Ama Safiyan (step-mother) and Nani
Makan came out, and Baba also straightened up
from his khatt. He told me that a son was
born but is not well. "Ama is there; we'll take
you", they said. Without delay, I went and
reached Hoor’s house. Ama Safiyan and Nani Makan
accompanied me and Baba also reached. What did I
see? Ama gripped by fever and Hoor confined to
bed! Seeing me, she hugged me and said, "Adi
Fatima, your nephew Atta Muhammad has left me
dead! Didn’t you see him going?" Saying this,
she cried bitterly, "My moon-like..." I cannot
write the words. Finally, she said so much, "The
beloved has gone, taking my life breath with
him."The next day, she too got a fever, very
high grade, 107 degrees. There was no doctor in
the town. There was one compounder; he said,
"Don't keep these two women together (meaning
Ama and Hoor). Hoor would keep asking, 'How is
Ama?' and Ama would ask, 'How is Hoor?' So both
will die." Ama had double pneumonia, and Hoor
probably had a gynecological infection because
of difficult child birth. Mother was crying,
both mother and daughter mourned so much that
even now I lack the strength to describe. Baba
and I were left bewildered and worried. There
was no one else to sympathize with us; we were
both deeply saddened. These tears you see here
are from that time, a feeling that only those
with a heart would understand. Both were
yearning for each other, Hoor asking how Ama
was, and Ama asking how her Hoor was. Father,
caught in his own sorrows, shared his grief with
us and Ama. Adi Bhanbai consoled us with a great
passion. Samani, her daughter, took great care
in providing medicine and sympathy, leaving no
stone unturned. The fourth day dawned, taking
Hoor away from us. Baba and I went; it was the
twelfth day of Chet [corresponding
April]. The day itself seemed to say, if not
today, then never will I be that hot. I stood
there, unable to utter a word. She looked and
said, "Baba, you have come", then asked, "Baba,
who are these people?" Poor Baba understood, "Ama,
there is no one here." In his heart, he said, "Amri,
these are the same ones who took ‘Punhoon’ from
‘Sassui’; they have come to take our beloved
from us." She said, "Baba, keep them away." Then
she asked for her friends, Adi Wasu, the wife of
Habibullah Sahibdinani, and Adi Wasu, the
daughter of Haji Sajjan. Baba immediately sent
for them, and Adi Wasu arrived promptly, along
with other friends. Just as if she was waiting
for them! They said, "Adi Hoor, you are leaving
us; our heart is sinking." The poor girl just
stared at them and took her last breath. We were
left watching in agony. Baba said, "O mountain,
you are being very harsh." Then added:
"What did eyes do? Did not shed blood, nor did
they cry;
They watched, still, the beloved went away!”
Cruel death, you have taken away our Hoor, not
letting our mother to even see her face! What
shall we tell her, that our Hoor has left you?
Alas, alas, but what blame can we place on you,
O death? You too are compelled before your
Master, and we were also helpless. A cold sigh
escaped, and we bid farewell to Hoor. The poor
father, in his grief, spoke to the mountain:
"What burn will you caste, O mountain, on the
bereaved?
If you are the anvil, my body is like tempered
steel;
But it is no one's fault, fate has done this to
me."
-
Shah Abdul Latif Bhittai
We simply sat down, for the One who owned
everything was capable of taking back His trust.
Indeed, God's command prevails, but most people
do not understand. We sent Hoor off and returned
with humble eyes to our mother. Poor Ama was
anxiously waiting for us, while Adi Bhanbai was
sitting beside her, offering comfort, saying,
"Mama and Fatoo are with Hoor, they will come
soon." The poor mother had no idea of the great
calamities that were unfolding “in this
desolate Bhambore”!
The doctor had strictly forbidden telling Ama
the truth. Otherwise, she would also join her
Hoor, so we kept the pain in our hearts and went
to Ama. As soon as we arrived, she asked why
were we late and how Hoor was? Baba said, “She
had a fever, but now she is somewhat better, so
we have come.” She said, "You go, I have Bhanbai
with me. My daughter is alone." Mother had no
idea that this loneliness is now eternal, which
has separated many from their loved ones. Both,
Baba and I would cry in solitude and weave our
sorrows. Three days passed, and Ama felt
somewhat better. That morning, she pleaded with
me, "Ama Fatoori, tell me about sister, how is
she? Take me to her." I did not respond and
silently brought breakfast. Baba was lying down
on hid Khatt. Again, she said to Baba,
"You haven't gone to see Hoor today?" Taking a
bite, she said, "Ama, I can't eat, the bite is
stuck. Show me my daughter, my pearl-teeth
daughter, my red-cheeked Hoor, please show me.
You show me, your father won't take me there."
Ama started crying. Nani came and said, "Tell
this poor soul, she will eventually find out,
why hide? They are one soul." Ama again said to
Baba, "Tell me the truth, there's a fire burning
inside me, show me her face." At that Baba said,
"Now you will see Hoor's face in paradise."
Mother couldn't understand and asked me what
your father was saying. I, with a heavy heart,
said, "Ama, Hoor has gone to her eternal abode."
O God! What a moment it was, and what was my
mother's condition! Hoor had left, shattering
our hearts. Ama started walking barefooted,
mindless! O God, where did that strength come
from? Ama started walking, we couldn't catch
her. Nani, Ama Safiyan, I, Baba, all behind her.
She said to Baba, "You are very cruel, why did
you hide it from me?
“You, who drowned my Suhni - friend, my soulmate;
O river, I will cry out to you on the Day of
Judgment."
Know not, what was she saying. As she entered
Hoor’s room, she lamented, "Oh camel rider,
did you see my Hoor? Move aside, farmers, I am
going to find my Hoor."
What can I write, what should I write about
Ama’s state? She was picking up clothes,
searching for Hoor, hoping she would be found.
Baba said, "Wasu, don't go mad," then she said,
"I will first give a reproach to my beloved,
The stones have crushed my feet; you pealed my
sole;
I will scream, the mountain is roaring on me.”
- Shah Abdul Latif Bhittai
And she sat lamenting. Hoor was not destined to
come, and she never came. So she said, “My
people must have shifted to other lands.”
And then, there were “Sassui and her pain!”
As long as Baba was there, he was with her, then
when she was overwhelmed with grief, she would
talk about Hoor with us. She would go to her
house and sit and pass the time.
“Today, too, lament the mountain with the
pained;
The pain arose again of the mountain man.”
- Shah Abdul latif Bhittai
She would say,
“I did not meet my beloved, you too are setting
O sun;
The message I give you, remember it and give it
to the beloved;
If you meet the beloved, tell him that the poor
one died on the way!”
- Shah Abdul Latif Bhittai
Then,
"I did not meet the beloved, last breath comes,
Longing for Him, till the end, I ask His
track,
May I not die without seeing His glimpse.”
–
Shah Abdul Latif Bhittai
"I did not meet the beloved, this day too has
gone,
Dragging me through the mud, love took me
away.
Death became sweet, falling while walking on
the path."
–
Shah Abdul Latif Bhittai
And she kept saying various things to Baba, and
that was it! As long as Baba was there, they
both would pass the time together, but Ada Ehsan
did not like this at all. Finally, one day he
said to Baba, "What wrong have I done to you,
that there is crying and wailing in this house
all day? Fear God." I still remember those words
today. Poor Baba, struck by the pain of Hoor,
said nothing. He said, "Aba Ehsan, what may I
tell you, Hoor has killed us, she has left us
with a lifeless body."
Here, Ehsan got two sons. Borne in the
wilderness, God's decisions are indeed
mysterious, known only to His own power. Ama,
who had taken on the burden of our father's
household, forgot her own needs and devoted
herself to serving Ehsan's wife and children.
Samani had her own little child. Ama Safiyan had
no idea how she would manage such a large
responsibility. The children of our Bhajai
[sister-in-law] were very fair, and they would
wake and cry together. Every moment, their meals
and care were a concern. Bhajai's mother was not
around, and her sisters were married, and Ehsan
wouldn't allow them to visit his house. On top
of that, the two children would keep Ama busy
all day. Ehsan, urging her not to let anyone see
them, fearing the evil eye. Our mother raised
the children, holding her breath, ensuring Ehsan
wouldn't be displeased. Such an example cannot
exist in this world, nor shall it ever be.
Eventually, the children grew a bit older, and
when Nasim was seven months old, they called
Samani to come and help. She came and
contributed as best as she could, but our Bhajai
was overwhelmed, unable to even comb her hair
for two days at a time. |
