Memories (Episode 5)
Migration to Pakistan
During this period, the discussion of whether to migrate to Pakistan was frequently heard in our household. Our respected father (may Allah have mercy on him), upon the instructions of his Shaykh (spiritual mentor) Hakīm al-Ummah Hadhrat Mawlana Ashraf Ali Thanwi and his teacher Shaykh al-Islam Hadhrat Allama Shabbir Ahmad Usmani (may Allah have mercy on them both), had played a prominent role in the movement that aimed for the creation of Pakistan. Shaykh al-Islam Hadhrat Allama Shabbir Ahmad Usmani (may Allah have mercy on him) had already migrated to Pakistan, and the Quaid-e-Azam (Great Leader) of Pakistan, Muhammad Ali Jinnah, had requested him to hoist the flag of Pakistan for the very first time. After the creation of Pakistan, Hadhrat Shaykh al-Islam’s (may Allah have mercy on him) first endeavor was for the formation of an Islamic Constitution. For this, he convinced Mr. Jinnah and the then-Prime Minister, Nawabzada Liaquat Ali Khan, to seek assistance from eminent Islamic scholars of the time to lay the Islamic foundations of the Constitution. Initially, my respected father Hadhrat Mawlana Mufti Muhammad Shafiʿ, Hadhrat Mawlana Manazir Ahsan Gilani, and Dr Hamidullah (may Allah have mercy on them) were selected for this task. They were invited to come to Pakistan and draft the foundational Islamic principles of the Constitution within a three-month timeframe, and to present their proposals in the form of a report.
For various reasons, it was extremely difficult for my respected father (may Allah have mercy on him) to permanently leave Deoband and migrate to Pakistan. Firstly, he had various kinds of activities in Deoband which were not easy to abandon. Secondly, our respected paternal grandmother (may Allah have mercy on her) resided with him. It was difficult to leave her alone in Deoband, and also difficult to take her along due to her elderly age. Moreover, those were dangerous times in terms of safety. Additionally, he had two married daughters whom it was difficult to take along at that time, and in those days, the notion of one’s children living in a different country was considered too painful. Thirdly, if he resigned from Dār al-ʿUlūm [Deoband], the only source of income for household expenses would be the Darul Ishāʿat bookstore, and transporting it to Pakistan, especially in those volatile times, was going to be a tall order. Fourthly, Muslims were being massacred by the Hindus and Sikhs in various parts of the country, and anyone migrating to Pakistan had to cross rivers of fire and blood at each step. Fifthly, there was no stable source of income in Pakistan. Due to all these reasons, the issue of whether it was prudent to migrate to Pakistan remained a topic of prolonged discussion within our household. Hadhrat Mawlana Ihtisham al-Haq Thanwi (may Allah have mercy on him), who was the Khatīb[1] of the Delhi Secretariat Mosque prior to the creation of Pakistan, had migrated to Pakistan almost at the same time as Hadhrat Allama Shabbir Ahmad Usmani (may Allah have mercy on him). Allama Usmani (may Allah have mercy on him) had sent him to Deoband to invite our respected father to Pakistan. Several relatives expressed their reservations about migrating due to the above-mentioned reasons. However, our respected father (may Allah have mercy on him) at the end decided that Pakistan, for the creation of which he had struggled until now, deserved his contributions in the crucial task of building and developing it upon sound foundations.
This was a tough decision taken by our respected father (may Allah have mercy on him). However, Allah Most High had endowed him with exceptional courage. Disregarding all the challenges, he instructed his family members to prepare for Hijrah (migration). Being a young child, I was completely oblivious to the difficulties, but I could sense a mixture of joy and sorrow in the atmosphere at home. Until then, our respected father (may Allah have mercy on him) had spent most of his life in a small room of his ancestral house. Only a few years earlier, he had a new house constructed, with much zeal and zest, in which we were residing back then. He also liked gardening, for which he had cultivated a garden near G.T. Road. He would visit this garden, often after Asr, whenever he had free time from his scholarly responsibilities. I often accompanied him during these visits. He had especially planted mango trees in the garden and that year marked the first harvest. He also had a room built there, wherein our entire family would sometimes gather to enjoy the refreshing garden air. Leaving behind all these things instantaneously was undeniably a challenging test, as it was certain that by doing so, all the possessions would inevitably fall under government control. However, once our respected father (may Allah have mercy on him) decided to leave them behind, he would say to us: “The day I stepped out of the house and garden, all these possessions left my heart.” The reality is that this interpretation of zuhd (asceticism), which I later read in books and heard from elders – that one should not attach one’s heart to worldly possessions, and while one may possess wealth, the love of this wealth should not occupy the heart – we saw the real-life example of this zuhd (asceticism) in each and every step of our respected father’s life. May Allah Most High have limitless mercy on him.
Our respected father, at the time, decided to only take along his unmarried children with him, while his married children would remain behind for the time being. This meant that two of our elder married sisters as well as Bhai Jān, i.e. respected Muhammad Zaki Kaifi (may Allah have mercy on him), had to remain in Deoband. Preparations began according to this decision, and finally the 1st of May 1948 arrived. This was the night we were scheduled to depart from Deoband. I can still recall that several ladies from our extended family had gathered in the drawing room of our home, during the afternoon on that day. Two of my sisters who were migrating with us – the same sisters I mentioned earlier that they used to say poetry – on that occasion composed a poem addressing our homeland. I remember the following two lines of that poem since that day:
سلام تجھ پہ کہ اب دور جا رہے ہیں ہم
لے آج آخری آنسو بہا رہے ہیں ہم
Salutations to you, for now we’re going far away
Look, we’re shedding our final tears today
My two sisters were reading out their poems to the ladies and they were all teary-eyed. That same night, we boarded a train at Deoband railway station. Our first stop was Delhi, where we planned to spend a day. An officer from the Delhi Secretariat had arrived at Delhi station to welcome our respected father (may Allah have mercy on him), and we were to stay at his residence. He had arrived in a black Austin car. As far as I can remember, it was the first time I had ever seen and travelled in a car. I can still recall the thrill of that privileged experience, such that the fragrance inside the car is still engraved in my memory.
How did the day pass in Delhi? I do not remember. However, I do remember that the following day, we boarded the train at Delhi Railway Station from a platform which is separate from the main platform (as this was the platform for trains traveling on the small railway line towards Rajasthan). Even though it was decided that our elder brother would not migrate to Pakistan yet, he had come to send us off till Delhi. The image of our parting remains etched in my memory; he was standing alone as our train gradually gained speed and pulled away from the platform. The turrets of the Red Fort alongside the platform were visible. Consequently, even after arriving in Pakistan, whenever I would think about Bhai Jān, I would picture him standing on that platform with the Red Fort in the background.
How could a child in the fifth year of his life grasp the implications of leaving one’s homeland, the founding of a new nation, and permanently migrating to a new country? Hence, I was blissfully unaware of all those challenges. All I knew was that I had embarked on a long train journey with my parents and siblings. I would attach myself to a window of the chugging train and would relish the hustle and bustle at each station where the train halted. I did not even know that the steam engine of the train whistled three times and that the train took off at the third whistle. Taking advantage of my innocence, when my two elder brothers would hear the sound of the whistle or see the guard waving the green flag, they would ask me: “Do you want us to make the train start moving?” At my nod in the affirmative, they would push a wall of the train and the train would lurch into motion. I would be amazed, wondering how they could control the train from inside this cubicle. I also remember from this journey that I was sitting near a window with a roti (chapatti) in my hand, watching the scene of the train pulling away from the station, when an eagle swooped in and snatched the roti right from my hand.
From Delhi, we reached Jodhpur, a city in Rajasthan, and spent a night there. Of that night, I only remember that the house we stayed in was situated next to the railway track, from where I saw a foul-smelling cargo train which was likely used for disposing of waste and garbage somewhere far away. After departing Jodhpur, one of the stations we stopped at was Barmer, where a box containing clothes belonging to my two sisters was somehow misplaced, searching for which caused considerable distress. The next station was the penultimate one before entering Pakistan. We had to undergo customs checks here, and Indian officers were rigorously inspecting the belongings of emigrants. They were particularly strict about not allowing any unstitched cloths. Perhaps this was aimed at making their slogan of “Hungry, Naked Pakistan” a reality, to show the emigrants that they would not even have clothes to wear in the country they had sought. Among our belongings was a sewing machine, which the Indian customs officers confiscated. After enduring a grueling customs check, we boarded the train and soon entered the borders of Pakistan. Our next stop was Hyderabad, Sindh, where we stayed for a night. I only remember one thing from there that almost all houses featured slanted air ducts on their rooftops, which were fascinating for us natives of Uttar Pradesh.
After our stay in Hyderabad, we finally reached Karachi City Railway Station on the 6th of May 1948. Hadhrat Mawlana Ihtisham al-Haq Thanwi and our respected father’s friend Khalīfa Muhammad ‘Āqil (may Allah have mercy on them) were in attendance to receive us. Since our respected father (may Allah have mercy on him) had been invited by the government, they had arranged our accommodation in a flat on the third floor of a building known as King’s Court, situated on Victoria Road in Saddar. Initially, we all slept on the floor for a few days until beds were provided. This was a beautiful flat, the windows of which overlooked Victoria Road, known today as Abdullah Haroon Road. Looking at the hustle and bustle of traffic and shops on both sides of the road that exist today, it is hard to imagine the Victoria Road of 1948, which was the most beautiful road in the city due to its cleanliness and tranquil atmosphere. To its right was Bandar Road, the main highway of the city, which is today known as Quaid-e-Azam Road. This was where the central Tram Station, known as Tram Berth, was located. On the left was the vibrant market of Saddar. In those days, all important roads in Karachi were washed daily. For us rural folks hailing from Deoband, this road offered numerous fascinating aspects. It was also from this road that the Governor General, Prime Minister, and foreign Heads of States would pass by.
King’s Court, which still exists with the same name, was a four-storey residential building that could be described as a multicultural building due to its diverse mix of residents. We were residing on the third floor. Living above us on the fourth floor was a renowned industrialist of Sindh, the late Muhammad Laiq Lakho. He was a graceful representative of the Sindhi culture. “Lakho” is an esteemed community of Sindh, but at that time he was known as “Mr. Lakha” in the neighbourhood, and my childhood mind presumed that he was so named because he was a lakh-pati (a very rich person owning hundreds of thousands). We almost had family-like relations with him and his family. Mr. Lakho’s respected wife would treat us brothers very affectionately, like an elder sister. Their son Mr. Ghulam Bashīr was like a brother to us. I was around five years old and would visit their house without any formality or hesitation. Mr. Lakho’s wife would prepare ghee rotis in the traditional Sindhi manner using a flat pan, which I liked very much, and she would feed me with great love and affection. Their house also featured a traditional Sindhi swinging bedstead, in which we children would enjoy swinging. An open roof on top of the house would become our playground after Asr. Mr. Ghulam Bashīr was also a young child and would visit our house without any formalities. The ladies of Mr. Lakho’s house had a close relationship with the ladies of our house. In short, throughout the duration of our stay as their neighbours, we shared the joys and sorrows of each other’s lives such that we could be considered as a single family. Even after we moved from there, we continued to keep in touch with each other. While Mr. Lakho and his son Mr. Ghulam Bashīr have passed away, Mr. Ghulam Bashīr’s son, Mr. Ghulam Hadi, runs an estate agency and we still keep in touch with him.
Below us (i.e., on the 2nd floor) was the residence of Mr. Wazīr Gul, who was a Lieutenant Commander in the Navy and hailed from NWFP (today’s Khyber Pakhtunkhwa). With them as well, we had such close relationship that his wife would call our mother as her mother. Their son Shah Jahan and his sisters were frequent visitors to our house, and whenever Mrs. Wazīr Gul faced any issue, she would seek advice from our mother.
On the third floor, directly opposite our flat, there was another apartment in which a Parsi family from the Memon community resided. The door of their house featured distinctive designs and motifs made from powder, which were considered symbols of Parsi homes during those times.
A government officer who had migrated from Saharanpur resided on the first floor, and a middle-aged British couple on the ground floor. The British man was handicapped by one hand. An old convertible car would be parked beside their house, which would take more service from its owner than providing service to him. We would often notice that whenever they wanted to use it in the evening, he would be seen with the car bonnet lifted, tools in hand, or sprawled underneath the car from almost noon. He would then clean up and take a shower. Later in the evening, the husband and wife would enter the car, and the sound of the engine grumbling to life would indicate to us that despite its protests, the car had acquiesced to serve them.
In this manner, a diverse range of vibrant cultures converged within that four-storey building. Our respected father would fulfill the rights of all these neighbours according to their respective levels. As children, we were not yet interested in anything besides play and amusement and would draw entertainment from this eclectic diversity of people. These diverse families had such brotherly relations that despite their cultural differences, all of them would share the joys and sorrows of each other’s lives. I recall that once a terrifying fire broke out at a cotton warehouse. Even though it was located at least three to four miles away from our home, we could discern the frightening smoke of the fire just behind the building in front of ours. Perceiving the smoke, all the young men from our building, including our elder brother respected Muhammad Razi, rushed towards the direction of the smoke to extinguish the fire. Within a few moments, I saw out of the window, a swarm of people pouring out from neighbouring buildings, all heading towards the fire. Hours later, when Bhai Sahib returned, he informed us that the fire had broken out very far from our home, at the City Station’s cotton warehouse, and that everyone had helped to extinguish the blaze. While helping, a burning piece of cotton had fallen onto Bhai Sahib’s foot, leaving a noticeable wound that took several days to heal.
In this manner, heartwarming displays of mutual love would often be witnessed in those days. Today, the eyes yearn to see such scenes again.
However, for our parents, this was a challenging period. For the first three months, our respected father, Hadhrat Mawlana Manazir Ahsan Gilani and Dr Hamidullah (may Allah have mercy on them) remained busy preparing a report with recommendations for the Constitution, for which they would receive some honorarium. However, after this, my respected father had no source of income. All four of his sons who had migrated to Pakistan with him were too young to work, and their most pressing need was education, so it was difficult to involve them in any significant income-generating activity. As for the cash we possessed in Deoband, it had been decided not to carry it during the journey from Deoband to Pakistan. Instead, our respected father had a gold necklace made by a goldsmith in Deoband with that cash and gave it to our respected mother (may Allah have mercy on her) to wear, so that it could be converted to cash in times of need. Consequently, when no other source of income remained, they took the gold necklace to a goldsmith in Karachi with the intention of selling it. He examined the necklace and informed them that it was a counterfeit; the goldsmith by whom the necklace was made had deceived them by perhaps gold-plating a brass necklace and selling it off as a gold necklace. With this, their last remaining financial resource evaporated into thin air. However, I still remember that our respected father (may Allah have mercy on him) would laugh when recounting this incident.
Our respected father had many contacts, ranging from the Prime Minister to lower-ranking officers, many of whom would visit our home. However, none of them were aware of the challenging times our household was facing. Even we children were not aware, what difficult circumstances our respected father was facing. We did notice, however, that our respected mother would cook dāl (lentil) many days on end. I do not remember this myself, but my elder brother Hadhrat Mawlana Mufti Muhammad Rafiʿ Usmani (may Allah grant him a long life), who was ten years old at that time, relates that one day he complained to our mother that she only cooks lentil dāl every day. It was at this point, for the first time in front of him, that our respected mother said: “Do you even know that your father has no source of income?”
A friend of our respected father (may Allah have mercy on him), Khalīfa Muhammad ‘Āqil (may Allah have mercy on him), was a student of our paternal grandfather Hadhrat Mawlana Muhammad Yasin (may Allah have mercy on him) and was a former teacher of Persian and Mathematics at Dār al-ʿUlūm Deoband. Due to his involvement in the Pakistan Movement, he too had resigned from Dār al-ʿUlūm. Prior to our own migration, he had also migrated to Pakistan after Shaykh al-Islam Hadhrat ‘Allama Shabbir Ahmad Usmani (may Allah have mercy on him). He had opened a grocery store here which was located between Saddar and Jacob Line. During those early days, when our respected father (may Allah have mercy on him) had no source of income, he would insistently send some groceries from his shop to our house. It was only later that we came to know that, for a period of time, the meals in our house were prepared using those groceries.
On the one hand was the sincerity and earnestness of Hadhrat Khalīfa Muhammad ‘Āqil (may Allah have mercy on him), who would send us groceries without even keeping a record, on the other hand, our respected father’s (may Allah have mercy on him) characteristic of having clear and transparent business dealings was such that he would keep a record of everything we received from the shop. Thus, when Allah Most High granted us financial ease, our respected father presented a gift to Hadhrat Khalīfa whose value was equivalent to the total amount of groceries he had sent to us. (As fate would have it, later on he himself encountered a hard time while our respected father (may Allah have mercy on him) enjoyed financial ease, so he helped Hadhrat Khalīfa in those difficult times).
…………….(Continued)…………….
[1] Translator: Khatīb: The one who delivers sermons, e.g. for Friday and Eid prayers