Memories (Episode 4-A)

An English translation of “Yadein”, the autobiography of Hadhrat Mawlana Mufti Muhammad Taqi Usmani (dāmat barakātuhum), Vice President, Darul Uloom Karachi. Translation by Kaiser Nizamani.

This was a short introduction of my eight siblings. I am the youngest of them and, as I have previously written, I was born on the 5^th of Shawwal 1362 AH. Hakīm al-Ummah Hadhrat Mawlana Ashraf Ali Thanwi (may Allah have mercy on him) had passed away approximately three months before. Consequently, all my siblings had the honour of either seeing him or at least Hadhrat’s blessed gaze falling upon them. I was deprived of both of these blessings. The names of all of my siblings were also selected by Hadhrat (may Allah have mercy on him). Although there is no question of my name being picked directly by Hadhrat, it was my respected father’s (may Allah have mercy on him) practice to ask Hadhrat to suggest names for his children. Hadhrat would suggest a list of several rhyming names to choose from. One of them was “Muhammad Taqi” which had not been given to any of my elder brothers. It seems my respected father chose my name from this very list, and since after Hadhrat Hakīm al-Ummah’s demise my respected father would consult his beloved teacher and mentor Hadhrat Miyan Sahib (i.e. Hadhrat Mawlana Sayyid Asghar Husain Deobandi (may Allah have mercy on him), who was a saintly man from whom Kashf[i] and Karamāt[ii] were witnessed, it seems probable that his recommendation would also have been involved in selecting my name.

All three of my elder brothers were studying at Dār al-ʿUlūm Deoband. I had not even formally started Qāi’dah Baghdādi at that time, so there is no question of me studying at Dār al-ʿUlūm Deoband. Nevertheless, I would sometimes accompany my three elder brothers to Dār al-ʿUlūm, so a faint map of the Dār al-ʿUlūm of that time had become etched in my mind.

Childhood and Being in Mother’s Lap are Good Times

Behind our house (i.e. on the western side) was the residence of our paternal grandfather, Hadhrat Mawlana Muhammad Yasīn (may Allah have mercy on him), where our paternal grandmother (may Allah have mercy on her) (who had given bayʿah to Hadhrat Gangohi (may Allah have mercy on him) used to reside. A tunnel-like passage, which we used to call Nīm Darī, connected our house to hers. Beyond this paternal house lay several houses belonging to our extended family. A narrow alley ran amidst these houses, leading to a relatively wider area which we used to call Chowk (square), which was a popular playground for us children. For us at that time, it was nothing short of a huge stadium in which children from the entire neighbourhood would play such games that required neither money to be spent nor training from any coach. Usually, our elder brothers would also play local traditional games at this Chowk after Asr. As for me, the entire universe of a 3 to 4 year old innocent child would begin from his home and end at this Chowk, where, more than playing, I would amuse myself watching others play.

As I have mentioned earlier, three nieces and a nephew of mine were one to three years older than me, so there was no need to seek friends outside the family. I had a close friends-like bond with these nephew and nieces and we shared the camaraderie of childhood games. Among the games that were popular in those times, Hide and Seek, among others, were the types of games we could play at our age, and for these the house was big enough; there was no need to use the “Chowk” stadium for such games. Games like Gilli Danda (tip-cat) were beyond our abilities. Besides, I was never able to excel much in any game.

I was the youngest among the nine of us siblings, and perhaps this is why I was beloved to all. I do not know if it was due to this love and endearment or there was any truth to it, but everyone in my family, from my parents to my siblings, used to mention my intelligence at that very young age. And I still vividly remember the events which were cited as evidence for this, as if they had occurred just today. Some of these events, which perhaps you will also find amusing, are eager to come on the pen:

May Allah Most High shower his mercy and pleasure upon my respected father, Hadhrat Mawlana Mufti Muhammad Shafiʿ. He was the chief Mufti of such an esteemed institute like Dār al-ʿUlūm Deoband, and the knowledge and excellence that Allah Most High had bestowed upon him were renowned throughout the country, and his devoted students considered serving him a great honour for themselves. In spite of all this, he was naturally so humble and simplistic that he would go to the market to purchase household items by himself, and at times even carry the items home in the fold of his garment. By that time, I had grown old enough to accompany my father to the bazaar, holding his hand. When I did accompany him, he would buy something of my interest on our way back home. The era of chocolates and toffees had not yet arrived, so what were our favourite treats? Roasted grams, popcorn, puffed rice, frozen cream (which was a local form of ice cream) and other local traditional sweets. When society advanced, a small chocolate-like sweet became available for one paisa (one-hundredth of a Rupee). This sweet was shaped like a slice of tangerine and we would call it tangerine sweet. Looking back, I realize that in those days, children’s interests revolved around snacks that were healthy and naturally beneficial, and were also widely available at very cheap prices. The unhealthy and expensive snacks invented in today’s times were unheard of in those days.

Nevertheless, whenever our respected father (may Allah have mercy on him) took us along with him, he would purchase us one of the aforementioned treats. In this way, we would be recompensed for the efforts of walking to and back, and touring the bazaar would be a bonus. However, he would purchase us those snacks solely at his discretion; the practice of a child asking or demanding anything from his parent was non-existent.

On one occasion, our respected father (may Allah have mercy on him) was returning home from the bazaar with some potatoes. I was by his side, holding his hand. It so happened that my respected father forgot to buy me something from the market that day. I kept telling myself that I should get something, but when I was still empty-handed by the time our respected father was about to turn into the alley which had no shop selling anything of my liking, I realized that today I was not getting anything. As I have mentioned above, a request by the child was contrary to custom and habit. On the other hand, I wanted to remind my respected father (may Allah have mercy on him) that he was forgetting something. My childhood mind found the following words to escape this quandary: “Father! If nothing else, put the potatoes in my lap”. My respected father broke into a chuckle at these words, and then instead of potatoes, he bought me something of my liking. When we returned home, he narrated this story to our entire household and it later became a family anecdote.

Similarly, in Deoband, there used to be a weekly bazaar held on Wednesdays where people from neighbouring villages would sell their products, and where everyday household items could be purchased at a cheap price. It was called “Wednesday Bazaar”. Once, my respected father (may Allah have mercy on him) took me along when he was heading to this market. I do not recall the items he purchased on that occasion. Mainly household essentials were sold in this bazaar and it did not offer anything of interest to children. Consequently, on that occasion as well, he did not buy me anything and we made our way back home. As we were returning, my eyes fell on stacks of sugar batāshā[iii] in the last shop. I could not contain myself and blurted out: “Father! You could ask the price of the batāshā.” And in this manner, I reminded my respected father of his forgotten obligation.

The Deoband neighbourhood in which our house was located was called Baray Bhaiyon Kā Muhalla (Big Brothers’ Neighbourhood). Our great-grandfather’s children were referred to as “Baray Bhai” (big brothers), and over time, the neighbourhood became known by this name. The main door of our house (which was on the eastern side) opened up to a small pathway which differentiated the Hindu community from the Muslim community. The Hindus lived on the other side of this pathway. However, we had good neighbourly relations with them. On the same road across our house stood a flour mill which we used to call “Engine”. I remember that once a fire broke out at that mill. Our respected father (may Allah have mercy on him) was the first person to rush to their aid and, for a considerable amount of time, continued attempting to extinguish the fire using water and earth dug from the ground. Maintaining amicable relations with non-Muslim neighbours was a hallmark of all our elders. For me, this was an entertaining scene; after watching this scene from our house, I would describe the events to my elder siblings in my lisping tongue and attempt to gesticulate with my hands and feet to illustrate the sequence of events. And while describing the scene, I would even climb on them as I had seen the people helping to extinguish the fire climb on “Engine”. Afterwards, my siblings would ask me to re-enact my description of the scene.

I would speak with a lisp until around the age of six and many anecdotes related to this became famous in our family. The eldest son of Hadhrat Mawlana Anwar Shah Kashmiri, Hadhrat Mawlana Azhar Shah Qaiser (may Allah have mercy on them both), the long-term editor of the monthly Dār al-ʿUlūm Deoband Journal, was a friend of my elder brother, respected Muhammad Zaki Kaifi (may Allah have mercy on him), and would thus often visit us at home. He was very fond of me. My family used to affectionately call me “Taqqū” instead of “Taqi” and Mawlana Azhar would also call me by this name. He would often take me in his lap and tease me by calling me “Taqqū, Taqqū”. On the other hand, his name was Azhar which I would twist and pronounce in my lisping tongue as “Ajhal”[iv]. Consequently, when he would visit us and knock on the door, and I would open the door and find him on the doorstep, I would return to Bhai Jān and inform him: “Bhai Ajhal has come”. Mawlana Azhar would thoroughly amuse himself with my pronunciation. Many years later, after we had migrated to Pakistan and the monthly Al-Balagh started under my editorship and its first edition reached Mawlana, he sent me a letter (which was his first letter to me after many years) in which he wrote:

“Today, you are Mawlana Muhammad Taqi Usmani, but to me, you are still the same “Taqqū Miyan” who used to call me “Ajhal”.

And at the end of the letter, instead of his name, he wrote: “Your very same Brother Ajhal”

(…to be continued)

i] Translator: Kashf: Unveiling of normally hidden knowledge
[ii] Translator: Karamāt: Miracles
[iii] Translator: Batāshā: A kind of candy made with sugar and jaggery
[iv] Translator: “Ajhal” in Arabic means “the most ignorant one”