Doolah Tuhinje Dar te
Sawen Sawali
Kadahan budhoseen keena ki ko motiyo khali,
Lalan ji Lali Padhiro Disa Pardesa mein
Kadahan budhoseen keena ki ko motiyo khali,
Lalan ji Lali Padhiro Disa Pardesa mein
( O River-God! There are Hundreds of beggars
At your door,
We have never heard of one who returned
empty –handed,
Your glory is sung far and wide even in
distant countries)
We have never heard of one who returned
empty –handed,
Your glory is sung far and wide even in
distant countries)
- “Lal –Sai-a-ja Panjira” (Hymns in
Praise of Water-God) / Popati Hiranandani in “Sindhi Folk Poetry” , Indian
Literature , 1979.
I have grown up listening to my mother saying “ Maalik Ji Leela Apram Paar” whenever a situation is outside one’s control.
I find these lines to be extremely powerful as they fill one with Hope that the
kind Almightly will never disappoint his children and therefore whatever
happens , happens for good. For a community like us , who have endured (and for many still continue to) the
difficult times of Partition and the associated problems, this hope is much needed.
I am pleased to introduce our second guest writer on this
blog, Dr Sunila Sewani. Sunila is a fellow Hindu Sindhi who was born and raised
in Karachi, Pakistan before the family decided to shift to India in 2006.
Sunila’s story is interesting as it does not fit into the usual migration
narrative (that I have often mentioned on the blog earlier) and hence I thought
will be of interest to all of us as it provides a different perspective and a
glimpse into their experience of living as a member of minority community in Pakistan.
Unlike others, Sewani family did not face any notable
discrimination in Pakistan yet decided to migrate to India for personal reasons
; so in many ways the family’s movement to India was voluntary. In addition,
Sunila and the larger family still have relations in Pakistan and have visited
them at regular intervals, something, which again doesn’t fit into the standard
migration narrative. However, like most
other migrants, they too had to face hardships to adjust to the new life here.
I recall Sunila telling me about how she had to join “Hindi” classes at the age
of 25 as most of her education was in Urdu and Sindhi ; about the
administrative challenges of having to report to government authorities at
regular intervals etc. In spite of all the challenges, it is a matter of
extreme pride that the larger family has been able to find their feet “here”
which reminds me of my mother’s above saying!.
Sunila is now a successful
Surgeon and stays with her family in Pune. I pray to the almighty for good
health and happiness of the entire Sewani family and thank her and the
family from the bottom of my heart for
taking out the time to write this post and share her private experiences/family
moments with all of us.
Jai Jhulelal!
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Strange are the ways of destiny,
Blink and your life changes forever…
I
am Dr. Sunila Dayaram Sewani, a Hindu Sindhi born in Sukkur, Sindh,
originally from Mirpur Mathelo (paternal hometown) in Ghotki District,
Sindh. We resided in Karachi,
Sindh for majority of my formative years (around 20 years) before we
decided to move to Pune, India in July 2006. India was never unknown to
us as we have always had family in India (my father’s brothers and their
families) and used to visit them often, usually
during summer vacations. However, never in our wildest dreams did we
ever think we’d end up living in India. Our migration to India was in
rather traumatic circumstances, following my father’s demise battling a
prolonged illness. It was his last wish that
post his demise, we shift with his brothers in India and hence we
shifted here. I stay here with my mother and younger brother. My elder
sister is married in a Karachi based Hindu Sindhi family.
When
Sindhi Chokro suggested that I write a guest post, I wasn’t sure as I
have never been an active writer. Infact, I am a passionate surgeon who
probably
only knows about ‘chaaku churri chalana’ (in colloquial language).
Ever since I joined medical school here in India, I have never
had the time to sit and reflect about the steep transition that my
family and I had to go through following Papa’s demise.
Karachi
to us was home – a place of belonging. Karachi over the years gave me
my education and formed my personality; it gave me memories that have
and will stand the test of time. It taught
me to make my religion my business alone and remember that everyone
else’s religion is solely their business. Karachi gave me true life long
friends. Karachi gave me role models. It gave me people I idolized who
left only to be immortalized in my heart. Karachi
gave me the extremely delectable Sindhi Biryani, one that I am yet to
experience anywhere else. Karachi was my sanctuary. Yet Karachi after my
Papa’s passing also became this horrific place that at the time, we
needed to escape because every small and big
thing there reminded us of our unbearable loss. So in a way, the move
was much needed as well.
 |
| Sewani Family ( Karachi, circa. 1989) |
 |
| Sewani Family ( Pune, India) |
My father was a simple, god fearing, self -made
man from a humble background. My grandfather was an ordinary ‘kiranay waro’ (grocery store owner) in
Mirpur Mathelo who (as I have been told) one day sat with his five sons and
told them that he can only afford to fund the education of one of them and so the one who wants to study and not get
into the family business should step up. As fate would have it, my father rose
to the challenge and asked to be sent to Karachi for further studies, where he pursued
his Bachelors in Pharmacy. This incident reminds me of a famous Sindhi proverb
, “ Maa janeendi putr, bhaag na deendi
vanday’ (Even though a mother gives birth and life to her children, yet she
cannot divide the same destiny equally amongst them).
Though my father had this burning desire to
become a doctor but unfortunately, he couldn’t fulfil his dreams. He went on to become
an MR (Medical Representative/Drug Representative) at Abbott Laboratories.
My grandmother would often jokingly say to him “Daya, (his pet name) fakeer bhi subhu jo katoro khayi nikardo aa ta
sham jo ghar kujh khayi eendo aa. Toji eeya kehri nokri aahay jehen mein tu bharyal
bag khayi wendo aan aayen sham jo khali bag khayi eendo aan.’ (Son, even a
beggar leaves home empty handed in the morning only to come back with something
in his hands by evening time. What kind of a job do you have that you leave
with a bag full of utilities only to come back home empty handed?)
After a lot of struggle at that job, (and at home – my mother tells us
that they had to compromise on a lot of basic amenities during that
phase of their lives) my father finally landed a job at the Pakistan
Customs House. My elder sister was born at that time
and so she till date has been credited to be the lucky charm that got
rid of my father’s financial struggles. Needless to say, we as his
children were duly taught the value of education and its importance in
life. We were lucky enough to live in a good suburban
locality, went to decent schools and made friends who hailed from
educated, broad minded households so we honestly never faced any bias as
such. As a young girl, I loved listening to my grandfather’s partition
stories.
Every Ramzan, many Hindus living in Pakistan would fast and then indulge
in binging their hearts out at Iftaar. And then comes Eid. At least in
Pakistan, Eid and Diwali had much in common. Both were marked by an
abundance of mithaai. It was customary to wear
new clothes, and like Eidi on Eid, it was traditional to give presents
on Diwali too. Every year, my family would welcome our Muslim friends
over for Diwali, and come Eid, we used to visit our Muslim friends’
houses.
I do have some vague memories of going to school in Pakistan, I do
remember that at times my “minority” identity did become a reason of my
being excluded and bullied but these instances were exception rather
than the rule. In fact, As I grew, my ‘otherness’
interestingly became exotic. The same identity I had been bullied over
now became my ticket to being a ‘cool kid’— since I had access to all
the firecrackers (thank you, Diwali) and invitations to Holi parties.
Funnily enough, back in 8th grade, I actually got suspended for lighting
a fire cracker at school. It was Diwali and my friends encouraged me to
bring some, to school and even though the one I had innocently lit
during recess time was not all that loud but
because there were other seemingly loud fire crackers burst
simultaneously by this Muslim boy in my class at the same time, I being
the soft target got blamed for it all. I got suspended for 3 days from
school and my father out of sheer disbelief that his
‘sabhni khaa sutho, syaano, nimarro Suno putr’ (his most
favorite, obedient, intelligent kid) got suspended, he didn’t go to meet
the Principal and sent my maternal uncle to my school instead .
As I mentioned earlier, my father back in the day, really wanted to
study Medicine and become a doctor but couldn’t due to many constraints.
Naturally, following the age old tradition of passing down those hopes,
dreams and desires I was asked to pursue Medicine.
Thankfully I really wanted to from the beginning as well and therefore
post my 12th grade, began my journey of giving various Medical College
Entrance Exams that we both as a father-daughter duo worked very hard on
getting through. I have very loving memories
etched forever in my brain of moments before all the major exams of my
life and how my papa, very enthusiastically used to drop me off to
school/college/the various exam centres before the said exams and how
every time before I would step out of his car, I
would remember how I don’t have a watch on me and he would immediately
take off his watch and give it to me and wish me luck. My father and I
did succeed in me getting admission in a medical college in Karachi
(Ziauddin Medical College) and I did 1.5 years
of Pakistani MBBS as well before shifting to India and begrudgingly
having to start from scratch again because there is no credit transfer
system between Pakistani and Indian Medical Colleges. That particular
watch became like a lucky charm for me and even
in his absence, I went on to carrying it along to the exams I gave here
in India as well during my MBBS and Post-Graduation, all the while
thinking that his blessings are always with me via his watch
Living in a Islamic country like Pakistan my father probably struggled
with the idea that his kids couldn’t get proper religious education at
school (as compared to what we could have gotten, growing up in a
country like India). So he would make us watch
video cassettes of all the Hindu Mythologies he could get his hands on.
Most of my religious knowledge stems from watching video cassettes of
the likes of Mahabharata, Ramayana, Krishna, Vikram Betal, etc during my
childhood. We learned to read and write in
Urdu as a second language at school and I by extension, can only read
(Arabic) Sindhi to a certain degree. Though Sindhi was also taught as a
separate subject at school but I didn’t get to take it since I did my O
and A levels (GCE UK Board equivalents of
10th and 12th grade) instead of the standard SSC and HSC.
In order to instill Hindu Sindhi-ness in us, my father would also take
us to various Temples and Dhams of various ‘Saeen Jans’
(Saints/God-men). Pakistan surprisingly had more than one would expect.
The paternal side of my family followed Shadani Darbar Wara
Saeen Jan (from Raipur, India) whose Dhams, referred to as ‘Hayat
Pitafin Sahib’ and ‘Mathelo Sahib’ we used to frequently visit. We even
did my younger brother’s Janeu Ceremony (Sacred Thread Ceremony of the
Hindu Faith) at ‘Mathelo Sahib.’ The maternal side
of my family followed Saeen Chandru Ram Sahib (from Lucknow, India) who
had their Dham in Pano Aqil, Sindh. The others included – Saeen Sadh
Ram (Dham in Raharki), Jai Samadha Wara Saeen Jan (Dham in Shikarpur),
Wasan Shah Darbar (in Rohri), Hinglaj Bhawani
Mata Mandir (in Balochistan), Mole Wari Mata Jo Mandir (in Thatta),
etc. We were often taken to their Functions or Satsungs held on various
Sindhi festivals. Karachi itself had three temples - Shiv Mandir, Swami
Narain Mandir and Netty Jetty Mandir. All the
Hindu Sindhi Festivals like Teejri, Thadri, Janmashtami, Cheti Chand,
Guru Nanak Jayanti, Jhulelal Chaliha, Diwali, Holi, etc had to be
celebrated at these temples. My mother reminds me that when they did the
‘Behrano’ on Cheti Chand (Sindhi New Year) at the
Netty Jetty Mandir, people would sing ‘Netty Jetty duur aa, Achano zaroor aa’
(even though Netty Jetty Mandir is far, everyone has to come). As Hindu
Sindhis have an affiliation with Sikhism and do read the Guru Granth
Sahib as their holy book, we were
also taken to visit Panja Sahib (in Hasan Abdal, Islamabad) and Nankana
Sahib (in Lahore). The highly respected Sarvabhauma Das (senior
preacher from ISKCON faith from Vrindavan) to us was my father’s dear
old friend Dr. Sispal Sharma Vasu who did his MBBS
and M.Phil from Pakistan.
 |
| at Gurudwara Panja Sahib, Hasanabdal, Pakistan, Punjab |
 |
| Mata Hinglaj Bhawani Shaktipeeth , Lasbela, Balochistan ( Photo Courtesy: Sewani Family) |
Then there was Prem Sagar - a monthly religious Sindhi ‘Risaalo’
(magazine) that was a passion project of my father and a few of his
close friends. It was sort of the equivalent of what Sindhi Chokro does
with his blog in today’s day and age. Prem Sagar was
quite famous back in the day and was widely read by pretty much all the
Hindu Sindhis in Pakistan as it contained informative articles about
Hinduism and Sindhiyat that in my honest opinion were much needed for
shaping young minds of the likes of yours truly.
Speaking of Sindhi people, during my last visit to Karachi, last year in
September 2018, upon meeting a school friend of mine whom I used to
aspire to become a doctor with, back in the day, who’s now a successful
Cardiologist in Karachi suggested that I can
kill my free time by going to assist her husband who was a
Cardio-thoracic Surgeon at NICVD Hospital. Being a general surgeon,
naturally I was super excited at the thought of getting to assist in a
CABG Surgery (Heart Bypass Surgery in lay man’s terms). What
I saw in the OT was one of the sweetest memories I have from that trip.
The patient was an 80 year old Muslim Sindhi woman, who with all her
geriatric cuteness was extremely anxious before the surgery. She was
talking to the Anaesthesiologist (also Sindhi
by the way) who was trying to comfort her by saying, ‘Ammarr, Allah
Saeen bhallo kando. Tavan asaan laaye dua kanjo, asaan tavan laaye dua
kanda se, operation suthay namoonay thi wendo’ (Mother, Almighty
Allah shall grace you with his kindness. You
pray for us and we shall pray for you. God willing the surgery will go
on smoothly). Looking at this I couldn’t help but smile from ear to ear,
absorbing that moment and thinking in my head that it is only here in
Karachi that I would ever get to witness this
kind of Sindhi doctor patient interaction.
Sindhi ‘Pahakas’ (Proverbs/Sayings) were always a big feature in my
household. My mother was always jokingly given the honor of being the
author of the Sindhi Pahaka Dictionary because she would always say the
funniest yet apt ones at the most appropriate times.
Sindhi Pahakas were no joke – they were invaluable, philosophical life
lessons as well. Some of my favorite ones include :-
· ‘Jedo Uth, Tedo Lodo’
(the bigger the camel, the bigger the jerks it experiences)
· ‘Khushi jairi khorak koney , Ghannti jairo marz koney’
(there is no nourishment like joy and no disease that is worse than worry)
· ‘Lachmi vaney ta lacchan bhi vanan’
(when God is unhappy with you, one loses his good sense too)
· ‘Uhey hath roti mein, uhey hath chotti mein’
(people who take up too many tasks at one time are like those who use
the same hands to knead dough and the same hands to plait their hair)
· ‘Uhayee zuban ussa mein vyaarey, uhayee zuban chaaonn mein vyaarey’
(the same tongue makes you sit under the sun and it is the same tongue that makes you sit in the shade)
· ‘Labhay ghar mein lath na, Chavay babo bandookan waro’
(he doesn’t even own a stick and yet he claims to be the master of guns)
· ‘Nori monn naang na kaje’
(one shouldn’t make a snake out of a rope)
· ‘Moor khaan vyaj mitho’
(the interest is always more enjoyable than the principle amount)
· ‘Sakhni kuni ghanno ubhamey’
(an empty vessel bubbles more/makes the most sound)
· ‘Sheedi siki vaya suu-n kaan, Sass siki vayi syaani nuu-n kaan’
(the dark skinned people yearn for a fair complexion, whereas a mother in law longs for a sensible daughter in law)
I can go on and on writing about my life there since time spent there truly felt like a lifetime.
13 years ago feels like a lifetime ago. So much has changed, yet nothing’s changed.
On an unrelated note, I am really looking forward to finally getting my
Indian nationality, sometime next year in 2020. Like Shri Ram and Seeta
Maata’s ‘vanvaas’ (exile) of 14 years finally ended, so shall my vanvaas
end after 14 long years of staying here
in India from 2006-2020 (here’s hoping…fingers crossed). I personally
have faced many hurdles, mostly in my professional life here due to the
lack of Indian Citizenship and the associated constraint/inability to
travel to any other country. But that’s a whole
other topic of my hardship here, for another day.
I would like to end by wishing Sindhi Chokro my very best and tremendous
success (professionally, personally and with this blog) and pray that
he gets to one day travel to the other side, across the border and
actually experience all the Sindhiyat that he’s
so passionate about, first hand, before it all fades away. All in good
time, Mitha! :)
