Learning and Life: family

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Friday, September 29, 2023

Ikram Hyder Naqshbandi Naatia Kalam in Different Languages

میرے دادا کے والد سید اکرام حیدر (1854 - 1942) کی غالباً 1920 کی دہائی کا لکھا ہوا نبی کریم صل اللہ علیہ وسلم کی شان میں کلام، مختلف زبانوں میں

بسم اللہ الرحمن الرحیم

بزبان عربی

للہ الحمد علی راسنا ار سلت نبی

من نبی اقبل احکام شرقی غربی

کان امی لقد ا عالم و علم العجبی

قال واللہ لک؟ رحمت احمد ربی

سیدی مرشدی مولائے محمد عربی

مرحبا سرور عالم تو عجب خوش لقبی

Preserving Old Handwritten Bound Manuscripts-Deewan-e-Baqa by Shah Abdul Ghafoor Manikpuri 1854-1930

This post describes how I am preserving the old handwritten poetic manuscripts written around 1880-1930. They had come to me in a bound volume as seen in the picture below. The binding was labeled Deewan-e-Baqa. Baqa being the poetic name, takhalus, of Shah Abdul Ghafoor Manikpuri. Baqa is used in several ghazal and poems in this volume. The experience of Archival of old manuscripts has taught me to become a "heritage detective". The detective is pouring over these old handwritten poetic manuscripts trying to decipher the old hand writing, to find the links and clues spread in these manuscripts, to identify the years when they were written, to identify different handwritings, to identify the links between the different types of cotent pages that were collected in this bound volume, to understand the history of how these pages got collected in this binding which was done some 30-40 years later, to understand the chain of transmittal and weave a credible story around the discovered artifacts.

The next stage is the preservation in protector sheets of these old pages, sending them for scanning, typing and transcription followed by editing and proof reading. Then would come the stage of understanding of the contents, and connecting the contents with the social history of that time, and connecting them with the relevance of our times. This experience reminds me of how archeologists discover, date, investigate, link and try to understand the history of old times by connecting them with different related artificats of that time and the artifacts connected with that time and place.

دیوان بقا از مولوی شاہ محمد عبدالغفور المانکپوری، ضلع پرتاب گڑہ

Rauf Momani and Great Memories of a Lively Lady

On 12th of April, 2023, Mrs Parveen Rauf Momani, my mother's brother's wife left this world to meet her creator. Inna lillah e wa inna ilaihi rajioon. May Allah give her the best of abodes in the hereafter. Aameen.

Rauf Mamoo and Rauf Momani (1960)

How families Used to Spend Eid Days

How Eid Days were spent:

جب ہم 1980 میں کراچی آئے

تو عرفان بھائی کے ساتھ موٹر سائکل پر میں عید بقر عید سب سے ملنے جاتے- ابا جان امی ہم کو خاسص تاکید کے ساتھ بھیجتے- عرفان بھائی اپنے دوست سے موٹر سائکل ایک دن کے لئے لاتے- چلانا بھی نیا سیکھا تھا

ہم فیڈرل بی ایریا غفیرا آپا کے گھر سے شروع کرتے پھر خلیل بھائی ، ہارون خان، فریدا ،آپا پی ٹی آپا عثمان چچا ،بھیّن بھائی( لقمان چچا کے بیٹے)پاپوش میں بڑے عثمان چچا(اوصاف بھائی کے ماموں)یاسین چچا، بھائی ظہیر الحق،سعید حیدر، سیّد پھپا جمشید روڈ،بڑی خالہ جان بہادرآباد

پھر واپس گھر اس وقت کسی نے کہا تھا کہ بھائی لقمان اور آپا حسنہ آئیں نہ آئیں لوگ ان سے ملنے جاتے تھے کیونکہ وہ بڑے تھے مگر اب انکےبچے دس دفعہ آئیں تو کوئی ایک دفعہ انکے گھر جائے گا اور مجھے یہ بات ہمیشہ یاد رہتی ہے-

اسی لئے جب میں مکہ سے آتی تھی تو رینٹ کار سے کر ایک دن کے لیے لے کر سب سے ملنے جاتی - زہیرا آپا کے ساتھ- لانڈھی سے ناظم آباد تک- ملیر بھی- کیونکہ ہم امی کے ساتھ بھی جاتے تھے

Discovery and Rememberances of a 1951 Journey via Ship from Karachi to London onwards to Brazil

1991-11-09. This photo is just the start of the journey to Brazil whose vivid description and experiences are captured in the following letter by Good Beti to Nice Beti

Companions of Hajj: Dekh mera Zauq o Shauq (See My Yearning and Passion)

Hajj kay Saathi (Companions of Hajj): Dekh mera Zauq o shauq (See my Passion and Yearning)

In 2016, Arif bhai went for his second Hajj, and all through the trip, he kept on recalling the saathis (group fellows) of that first Hajj of 1996 which I also accompanied. When I talked on Skype with Arif Bhai after the hajj, I found him emphasizing again and again that everything seems to have changed from what we saw during that first hajj; the fervor seems to be no more visible, and the buildings that we saw at that time were gone, the bazaars that existed then are gone, the small eateries run by Bengalis and offering chatpatta desi food seem to have disappeared, the local touch from the shops is gone, the view of haram as we witnessed then is no longer there; there is new construction everywhere, new building complexes, new malls, upscale shops, trendy restaurants, and the haram is now dwarfed and engulfed by the commercial highrises all round, and above all the local homily touch that we felt then seems to have disappeared.

I think it is not the buildings, bazaars, shops, or locale that he is missing. He is actually missing the company of our group, specifically that of the buzurgs with whom we performed that Hajj. Gone are they, the old familiar faces: Four of the buzurgs from our group of ten hajjis who went for the 1996 hajj are no longer with us. Gone is the mother of Arif Bhai with whom he was so attached. Gone are my parents around whom my life then was rooted; gone is my mother who was not only my counselor but also someone whom I looked up to for advice throughout my life. I have now realized that she was also a source of counseling and guidance to the stream of visitors who used to frequent our house. Gone is my father whose great expectations always beckoned me higher and higher. Gone is Rauf mamoo who had this capacity of making everyone around him feel so special and so close. His commands and control during that hajj were intended to make our visits transform into troop movements, which thankfully often did not work out as planned, but were nevertheless useful for keeping us on our toes. And of course, gone is our energy of 25 years ago.

We cherish that hajj of 1996 for so many wonderful memories. Whenever we would relate stories of that hajj, people often ask, "Were you there for the Hajj or had you gone there for a picnic adventure?" How can we explain that the trip was preceded by so many preparations, was looked forward to with so much anticipation and was undertaken with so much devotion by the buzurgs accompanying us that it became a great event for every one of us. Each mealtime became a party; the simple food bought from the corner Bengali dhaabba (joint) became a celebration. Converting the labban (yogurt) bought from the corner store into lassi by putting it in a 2-liter water bottle with ice and milk and shaking it vigorously became a much looked forward process that produced the most delicious of all the drinks. The relish with which food items were picturesquely described by Anees Mamoo is now legendary. We don't know how he managed to get away from his job at Taif every other day and drove down to Mekkah to give us company and specifically to his childhood friend and cousin Rauf Mamoo. Everyone listened spellbound to the graphic description by Anees Mamoo of baray-baray (big) peaches and baray-baray tarbooz (watermelons) bought from the expedition to the sabzi mandi (vegetable market) of Mekkah where they were carefully selected with so much zest. Cutting and eating such fruit was accompanied by the fond recollections of many such baray baray fruits consumed elsewhere. The decorum with which food was laid out on the dastarkhwan on the floor mat, and the way everyone huddled together around it to consume it with so much relish reminded one of dawat e shiraz. Each mealtime turned into a mehfil with riveting stories: Stories told by Rauf Mamoo and Anees Mamoo of the time spent together in Hyderabad and stories of adventures of the shikaar (hunting) expeditions provided excitement and suspense. Fervent remembrances of the people who had passed away, riveting anecdotes from the culture that has vanished, trials and tribulations of the hard times following the 1947 migration, and of course the warmth of the connectedness of the extended family and the mutual help that was readily offered and accepted with grace and returned in kind. There was so much shukr expressed around these mehfil events that they became prayers to the bounties of Allah. The environment made each trip to haram an enjoyable and fulfilling expedition, each umra became an event which was looked forward to and each of the manasik became a pleasure-filled event notwithstanding the effort and strain. There was this beneficence of Allah that made our Hajj trip so much full of ease, comfort, and barakah.

I think the intention of Arif Bhai, Bhabhi, my eldest sister, my brother and myself for that hajj was primarily to enable the hajj of the buzurgs accompanying us to be as comfortable as possible. Three of these buzurgs were to do the hajj on wheelchairs because of their age-related infirmities and health reasons. The trip accordingly had to be planned to make their journey as exertion free as possible. This provided us with a sense of purpose to plan for and a sense of duty to diligently schedule the activities and to meticulously prepare the necessary list of required items so that we can enable the buzurgs to complete all their manasiks of hajj satisfactorily. There was this selfless and single-minded devotion that energized and kept us oriented throughout the months that we prepared for before the trip, and throughout the 40 days that we spent in Makkah and Medina.

See also: How Mina Stampede Happened and How to Avoid it: Hajjis Traffic Management System:
Connect with Anwar Fatima Letter u3411

This preparation and planning was necessary because this was the decade of the 1990s and there were no private luxury tour packages, only general governmental arrangements. That was the decade in which we used to hear about the shocking news of hundreds of people getting trampled during jumraat one year, hundreds of people dying of suffocation and trampling in stampedes in the tunnels the next year, hundreds of people burning to death in fires breaking out in the tents at Mina one year or the following year. We heard alarming stories of hujjaj who had gotten separated from their group members, who had gotten lost and could not find their way back to their camp for days, who wandered for hours from one place to another not knowing where to go, who lost their papers and money, and who had gotten dehydrated in the heat; hujjaj not being able to make it to Arafat on time, or not being able to spend night at muzdalifa, or not completing the rammi, or not being able to complete the stipulated rituals, or herded in suffocating buses and stuck among smoke emitting vehicles for hours in traffic jams....

Some of the returnees of the 1995 Hajj alerted us to the need for taking our parents to Hajj as soon as possible. 1996 was therefore decided to be the year we had to fulfill this farz. My eldest sister's agreement to join us on Haj and give company and support to my mother made the decision still easier. My brother's plan to join our group at Hajj directly from USA, further boosted the overall spirits, as now we had two young males to wheel Ammi and Abba.

To my amazement, planning for hajj suddenly got my father and mother energized. I couldn't believe the speed with which they came out from their recluse in which I found them on my return to Pakistan. They had mostly confined themselves to their rooms and were often reporting one or the other infirmities while resting most of the time. However, once the hajj plan was confirmed, the improvement in their energy and activity was remarkable. Starting from a condition where my mother would refuse to travel by car to attend even her daughter's house a few kilometers away often terming it as too strenuous, she not only started preparing for long walks but also started training for the arduous journey and long waits in traffic jams that she had heard were customary at Hajj. She started with 5 minutes of walk in the courtyard, and started increasing the time gradually. Remarkably, within a few weeks she was walking after fajr for about an hour and for another hour before the Maghreb. This practice that she started then continued till a few months before her last. My father got similarly energized in his prayers at the mosque and started participating in long walks after fajr with a group of namaazis. The group would go for about an hour-long walk every day. He also started regularly going for weekly dars that used to rotate among the houses of these mosque colleagues.

See also: Pursuit of Excellence vs Guzara: How to teach excellence through everyday examples

Soon my parents had a list of people who had recently returned from hajj and an itinerary of sorts started getting developed. I was often given a schedule of whom to visit when. Visits to these contacts were pre-scheduled. We then would visit them and conduct "in-depth" interviews, where they would explain their experiences, the issues that were confronted, the hardships that were faced, and other travel details. We attended several hajj preparation workshops at mosques where they explained the processes and the manasiks. We also saw several documentaries on the subject. Soon, a list of items started taking shape; travel items, support items, dresses, shoes, chappals, toiletries, books, finances, food, snacks, numbers, and whatever was mentioned. Books relating to hajj travels were obtained, instruction guides were obtained, and a resource base started getting built.

As the news about our hajj program had traveled in the family. The first to approach us for accompanying in the hajj group was Rauf Mamoo and Momani. Now the discussions about the preparations invariably included them, and they started regularly participating in such planning meetings. With the introduction of Rauf Mamoo in the trip party, and his strict army officer training, we soon knew that he would be commanding the hajj "mission". Then, I learned that my younger sister in laws would also be accompanying us; her mother-in-law, Arif Bhai, brother-in-law, and his wife. Arif Bhai's wife would provide the support and company to Arif Bhai's mother. Although we had been meeting Arif Bhai in the family get-togethers, but this trip would eventually provide us with a wonderful opportunity to know each other and develop a friendship and association that is at a much higher plane than whatever I have experienced before or since. Haj associations are special because they are for a higher purpose and are not tainted by worldly interests.

See also: How to find "Buzurg" and "Wali" of Allah

I will describe a few memorable events from that Hajj.

This is early morning, it has taken us the whole night to travel from Jeddah to Mekkah after waiting for hours in line to see the Saudi nincompoops at the Jeddah airport taking five hours to complete the counting of a contingent of haajis of about 200 [which is a storytelling separately in a later post]. Anees Mamoo first took us to the lodgings rented for us near Kubri al Mansoor on Shahrahe Khalil for freshening up and then we went to Haram after fajar: Ammi is with me and we have entered from Bab-e-Fahd and we are slowly making our way towards the Mutaaf. After turning around a corner, we found ourselves getting our first eye contact with Kaaba. I would never forget the zauq o shauq in Ammi that I saw there: I found Ammi to have frozen in the state in which she first laid her eyes on Kaaba. Her gaze was fixated at the Kaaba and she was reciting duas that she had memorized for this very moment and seemingly all the prayers that she could recall and could say. I saw the tears running down her cheeks. She must have been looking forward to this moment for Allah knows how long. While growing up in the 1960s-80s, we were never in a financial position to afford this fard. Ammi must have been praying for this moment for so long. It appeared as if Ammi would not let go of this time and these prayers. She must have stood there for a good half hour reciting one dua after another, praying for one thing after the other. Eventually, she lowered her gaze, offered a couple of nafils and then moved towards Mutaaf for the tawaf.

Kafir-E-Hindi Hun Main, Dekh Mera Zauq-O-Shauq

Dil Mein Salat-O-Durood, Lab Pe Salat-O-Durood

An Indian infidel, perchance, am I; But look at my fervour, my ardour.

‘Blessings and peace upon the Prophet,’ sings my heart.

‘Blessings and peace upon the Prophet,’ echo my lips.

This is Masjid e Nabvi and I am in Riaz ul Jannah with Rauf Mamoo. We have just completed our nafils, and he had started moving towards Roza-e-Rasool. Those were the times when one can still peep into the roza from a tiny window with grills. There was a throng of people in line trying to come nearer and nearer to the grill window to take a peep. A couple of shurtas' were standing there trying to ward off people who would like to come too near the grill. I spotted a mischevious smile on the face of Rauf Mamoo that I can never forget. He gave me his bag to hold and asked me to wait outside for him. I then saw this man of 65 years suddenly getting energized and transforming himself into a nimble teenager. He moved left, then right, then ducked below the staff-wielding shurtaa and before the shurtaa can stop him, he was not only peeping inside but also kissing the grills and kept on kissing and crying with tears as the shurta started beating him with the staff, but that made no impact on him. Eventually, he pulled away from the grills. When I met him outside Masjid e Nabvi, his face was beaming with joy and happiness that I can not describe. Later, he was to relate joyously that he had repeated similar peeps through the grill of Roza e Rasool several times. When I asked him about the beatings, he smiled and said that those beatings were just a little inconvenience for the reward he got of expressing his love for Rasool ul Allah.

Mana Ke Teri Deed Ke Qabil Nahin Hun Main

Tu Mera Shauq Dekh, Mera Intizar Dekh

Granted that I am not worthy of your Sight

You should look at my zeal, and look at my perseverance

Diya

As I recall the expressions on the face of Rauf Mamoo after this adventure to Roza e Rasool, I am sure, no one would have seen in him the old man of 65 that he was, but would have only witnessed a young teenager: A teenager of a different time and place; a teenager of half a century earlier, who loved taking risks and exploration, who would often go for adventures at night to those dark family graveyards in the ancestral hometown of Manikpur (Berar) in India about which the children were expressly told to stay away. There were graves of waliullahs of Hussami-Faridia silsala; including that of my mother's nana (maternal grandfather) Shah Mohammad Shakoor around whose tomb, I am told there is an annual urs even today. There was an old dilapidated mosque at that time in the graveyard in which someone, whom no one had seen, would light a diya (candle) every night. There were reported sightings of other strange phenomena in that family graveyard like coming across figures who were hundreds of feet in height and width and would fill the entire space in front, of having a meeting with long gone waliullah ancestors, and having other spiritual experiences. I learned of these nocturnal adventures from the stories told to me by my mother who would also sometimes accompany Rauf Mamoo on these expeditions without the knowledge of the elders; the brother and sister pair were fond of such outdoor adventures; Some of those stories were to be related by Rauf Mamoo in 1999 to us during the last night of his life before he went to meet his creator.

See also: Rauf Mamoo - How to Make People Feel Special and Close

We are in the tent city of Mina. Fiberglass shades had not been erected till then. It was hot and felt as if someone was pumping blasts of hot air in our tents. There were coolers in the tent but the environmental heat had tremendously degraded their cooling ability. We found ice slabs in the service area for providing cool drinking water to the haajis of the maktab. We started bringing ice in place of water to improve the performance of the cooler, but that only helped a little. The buzurgs spent that tent stay with great patience. The patience of Arif Bhai's mother and others was remarkable. It was sweltering hot, washrooms were at some distance and the winding path required negotiating through irregularly erected tents and their fastenings, the waiting lines in front of washrooms were long, and food from the corner Bengali stalls was simple, but I did not see any of them complaining of heat or any other inconvenience.

See also: Secret of Happiness: One Simple Rule

This is Arafat. Our muallim's has allocated spacious tents. After settling down, some of us went to bring the food being distributed there in abundance by the government. On our way back, we saw a running water hose that we quickly used to refresh ourselves by hosing water on us. On returning to tent, I found the buzargs deep in prayers. Especially, the way I saw my mother standing and praying throughout that afternoon was remarkable. Food or other refreshments did little to distract her. She did not move much from her praying place till it was time to move to Muzdalifa.

We are going for jumraat. I had lost my chappal the very first day that I went to haram. I then stopped taking the chappal inside in the specially made pouches that we took with us from Pakistan. I started going to haram with one pair and would leave it at the door among the hundreds lying there and on the way back would pick another pair lying there, without worrying about the color or type match. However, Arif Bhai with his characteristic meticulousness would always carefully keep his chappals in the pouch that he carried. That pair of chappals remained with him throughout our stay in Mekkah and Medinah. But, as we went for jumraat, we went through the first one, then the second one. But, were then caught in a jampacked situation before the third one, with people pressing against each other from every side and we were slowly inching forward with tension on the faces of everyone and with heat, it was becoming claustrophobic. There Arif Bhai, eventually, lost one of his chappals as it tore out from his feet. We, then felt a spray of water drops, and suddenly the tension released. I think they do it from the sprinklers on the poles to release the tension. The relief was quite visible as Arif Bhai was stoning the last shaitan and as he threw the last of the stones, I saw his dear chappal flying off to the shaitan!

After Jumraat, we sat down on the curb and Abba squatted down while the barber shaved off his head and then our heads. The sight was singularly remarkable because Abba would always get his haircuts with so much preparation, but that kerbside shaving of the head scene while squatting on the curb I can never forget. He looked so adorable and cute with his long beard and age, and getting the head shave in that surrounding! Later, near our maktab's enclosure we spotted a hose pipe with running water. We took that hose and started hosing water on each other to freshen up after that stressful jumraat, while the road carried throngs of thousands of people walking towards their tents after returning from jumraat. This was a moment worth capturing on a camera.

We had to go to haram for tawaf e ziarat from Mina. We first went to our private lodgings near Kubri-al-Mansoor on Shahrahe Khalil which was away from what the government has allotted for us. This was a small place with two small rooms and a kitchen and washrooms. There was a Bengali living upstairs who also was the caretaker of that house. He used to take us to haram in his car. We found out later that Saudis have put a ban in anyone driving the haajis to haram. We also used to use his telephone for receiving calls from Pakistan.

After freshening up in our lodging we went to the haram. It was morning time of around 9am. We were told that mutaaf and haram is jam-packed during the days for tawaf e ziarat. Surprisingly, we found the mutaaf nearly empty. The number of people was so less that even Ammi and Abba also decided that they would walk the tawaf and would not use the wheelchairs although my brother and I were ready to wheel them. This was among the quickest of tawaf that we did. It was over in a little over forty minutes. With Allah's blessings, the sun also got shielded by the clouds and we had a very light sprinkling of rain drops. I often wonder how could one get such an opportunity for tawaf e ziarat with so much ease in mutaaf. Such opportunities were even precious during that decade.

Rauf Mamoo describing the care that we two brothers took for Abba Jan in his characteristic teasing style would tell others: If you want to see hajj then you should have seen hajj of Ahsan Bhai (my father). Both of his sons would be there right beside him as he was ascending or descending the stairs: One on the left and the other on the right. Each time he would lift his left foot, he would ask one of his sons to help him put the feet in the correct spot. Each time he would lift his right foot, he would ask his other son to help him put the foot at the right place. This was of course an overstatement. But, we took it as an acknowledgment of the effort done by the younger ones to help the buzurgs. Arif Bhai and his wife were continuously caring for Arif Bhai's mother. My sister, brother, and we were caring for Ammi and Abba and of course also for Momani Jan and Mamoo Jan.

See also:

We are at Jeddah Haj terminal, the one that had at that time a beautiful tent-like arching architecture. On reaching there we found that we would have to wait not only the night but all through the next day because our flight will be late on the night of the next day. For the first time, we found the large number of luggage items that we carried from Karachi to Mekkah, to Medinah, and back to Mekkah had a different utility. Our extensive preparations before the Hajj had ended up with each of the elders having luggage that consisted of three bigger pieces; a suitcase, a larger travel bag, and a smaller bag. Only the younger three of the group had limited themselves to one big bag each. The luggage that Arif Bhai and I had to load on top of the buses and then lift down typically consisted of 20 pieces that also included three wheelchairs that we had bought on arrival at Mekkah. This luggage now also included huge sacks containing prayer rugs bought by each of the four family representatives, and there were nine huge cans of zam zam water of 15 liters each. Foam mattresses bought for our sleeping at our private lodgings in Mekkah and the floor mats on which they were laid were also with us, rolled in a hold-all style. We could carry all this courtesy of the good old days when there was no restriction on the number of water cans and their sizes and the number of luggage items. By the time we came back after finding out about the flight schedule, we found that all the bigger luggage items had been used to make a perimeter wall in what would be our private enclosure for the next two days. Foam mattresses were unrolled and soon the comfort necessities were neatly demarcating the boundaries. As it turned out our flight was not on the night of the next day, but on the night of the subsequent day. We spent two nights and two days in that Molvi Musafir Khana but like all other delays and waits during this hajj, this time was spent with huge sabr and shukr.

Similar cross straps for water
bottles and pouches for papers.

Whenever Rauf Mamoo would move out for any trip to haram or for any of the manasiks he would always be wearing two items with their straps crossing across his chest and back: One strap was holding the pouch containing his traveling papers, essential medicines, cash and other stuff. The other strap is for holding the water bottle. This indicated that he was ready to go on the expedition and brought to my mind the image of what soldiers often wear on their expeditions as seen in the picture.

I can never forget that evening, three years after we returned from that Hajj. It is 1999 and we are at Khala Jan's place, a couple of months after Khaloo Jan had left for the hereafter. I saw Rauf Mamoo cross-strapped the same way he used to be during Hajj before any of our movements. Without thinking, I started to recite Inshallah Khan Insha's famous couplet's first verse but stopped after a few words, because I suddenly realized that it was not appropriate:

kamar baNdhe huye ........

and then I stopped, but Rauf Mamoo was quick, he had picked it up, and in his characteristic walihana and lilting style completed the entire couplet:

................ chalane ko yaN sab yar baiThe hain

bahut age gaye, baqi jo hain tayyar baiThe hain

Little did I know that the very next morning, at the breakfast table, as he was describing his impressions of the writings of Quratul Ain Hyder, he asked for a glass of water, took the sip, and then took a sigh, and collapsed. He breathed his last sometime later at NICVD.
Inna Lillahe Wa Inna Ilaihi Rajioon.

Both my mother and father used to pray that they should be on their feet when their time comes. Alhamdulillah both were on their feet when their time came in 2003-04. Abba walked to the car and from the car to emergency room of Liaquat National Hospital where he had another heart attack and left. Ammi was standing and performing ablution for Asar prayers when she breathed her last. Inna Lillah e Wa Inna Ilaihi Rajioon.

See also: Rememberance of the Loved Ones and Life

PS: (written March 25, 2015 on fb)
Yesterday we lost our dear Mansoor Bhai, one of the saathis of this Hajj. Inna lillah e wa Inna Ilaihi rajioon.

What a "har-dil-azeez shakhsiat" who would meet everyone with so much "apnaaiat" as if that person was closest to him. It was so sudden. We had met him a couple of days earlier at a Nikah reception where he was in his natural jovial self, and the parting comment of his was an invitation for us to come for Umrah and have a good time.
May Allah give him the best of abodes in the hereafter.

He was in Jeddah when we went for Hajj in 1996 with my father, mother, brother, sister, and Areff Bhai's family; Areff Bhai, his mother and Bhabhi [he was her brother], and of course our dear Rauf Mamoo and Momani. During that haj, he used to often drive down from Jeddah to meet us and gave us such a special VIP feeling. On certain days he would come even twice a day and meet our party. We stayed at his place in Jeddah for a couple of days and he took us shopping. Of an on, since then, he had been a regular visitor to Karachi. We enjoyed his company and remember the wonderful time at the farm when we had a jolly good time with his family.

At his funeral, everyone was remembering the small things he did with care and consideration. The big things he did to support the needy were never mentioned by him and always executed with the left hand not knowing what the right hand giveth.

Tuesday, August 16, 2022

Story of Mankind and the little bird on a mountain 100 miles high and wide

Last night I woke up at around 4am with this quote ringing in my ears.

I read this book long ago, during my school days in 1970s. The book made a great impression on me then. About the immensity of time, it's great expanse, our insignificance, and with all of our pomp and glory, our tiny speck of our effort. This quote has been with me since. But, last night, from some deep recess in my mind, some thing triggered this quote during my sleep.

At breakfast shared my approximate memory of the quote with my children.

Found the exact quote from Google search, now, and am sharing this.

"High in the North in a land called Svithjod there is a mountain. It is a hundred miles long and a hundred miles high and once every thousand years a little bird comes to this mountain to sharpen its beak. When the mountain has thus been worn away a single day of eternity will have passed."

Hendrik Willem Van Loon, The Story of Mankind

https://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/3147738-the-story-of-mankind-world-history

Friday, July 29, 2022

Why children can not appreciate the value of how they are better off than their parents

When I see my fridge filled with ice cream for a couple of days and children not touching it saying that they don't like the flavor, I recall my childhood when I used to yearn for ice cream for months and sometimes even years before getting to taste even a small serving. We did not even try to ask because we knew the tight position they were in. Can they appreciate the longings of their parents?

When I see from my air-conditioned Corolla a crowded minibus passing by with people stooping and standing in sweltering heat and I recall myself (aged 18yrs) and my father (aged 64 years) standing there in a minibus 40 years ago, and suffering the heat, waiting for some passenger to vacate his seat, and then look at my children who have never suffered like that, and wonder whether they can appreciate the effort I had to make, the sacrifices I made for decades, to reach to a position where I could afford a car like this?

Work in Process

Thursday, July 28, 2022

Naatia Kalam and Family Culture of Recitations- Anwar Fatima Diary

My dadi Anwar Fatima's diary/copy that she used from 1930s till 1960s. It contains naatiya kalam that used to be recited in mehfil e milad. Besides that it also contains poetic verses of several other relatives. Such "Mehafil" gave elders and children an appreciation of poetry and also a love for poetry. I remember being a participant in two such "Mehafil" in 1967 held at Luqman Hyder's residence in North Nazimabad Karachi. I was around 5-6 years of age, then, and I recited verses from Mussadas e Hali. Around 7-8 verses starting from

وہ نبیوں میں رحمت لقب پانے والا....

I was specially prepared for this recital and was given a white pajama and kurta for the occasion. I had earlier prepared these verses for a recital in my nursery class at Viqar-un-Nisa School in Rawalpindi. I had spent less than a few months in nursery class there in around 1966. I would go with my sisters from Chaklala Wavell Lines to the school in a Tanga (Horse Driven Carriage). I recited the verses from Musadas e Hali in the school auditorium, where I distinctly remember seeing Khushbakht Aalia (later on Khusbakht Shujaat) who recited and spoke [was it this or some other event]. My shirt got tucked in to my pajama and my sisters or their friends made fun of it. This I did not like and still remember the embarrassment to this day.

My grandmother encouraged and prepared me for this recital. She used to call me with her gentle and old voice as "Madineh ki Fiza". I thought that it was after this recitation that she started calling me with this phrase. However, I recently discovered a few letters from her to my parents of around 1964-65 where she had used this phrase for me.

A Drive on a Rickety Cycle and Sufistic Thought by Shah M Ismail Rauf

This is a story/article written by my dear mamoo Shah M Ismail written around 1953-55. Today September 8, 2021 is his 22nd death anniversary. He retired as Major in 1980s. He was great man who taught me how to love and play with children.

Father of Faizan Shah, Faryal Osman Khan, Faraz Shah, Fariha Ahmreen, Farid Shah.

Rauf Mamoo as he was called by our entire extended family. Humaira Tariq, Sm Omar, Rabia T Zeeshan,.....Whether those who are be relation his grand daughters or grandsons or their sons and daughters would call him Mamoo.

He was our companion in Hajj of 1996. What a great memorable 40 days.

Rauf Mamoo - How to Make People Feel Special and Close

Rauf Mamoo, My war hero of 1965 War: Major (R) Shah M Ismail at Chawinda Tank Battle.

Growing Up in the 1960s-70s: Recollections of Rauf Mamoo by his Daughter

Is Marriage an Imprisonment? Feminism, Relationships and Freedom from Responsibilities

کیا شادی قید بامشقت ہے؟

This post is triggered by FB posts which mentioned marriage as imprisonment with hard labor:

"قید بامشقت"

This post captures the intent of feminist and modern thought which is now focused so much on freedom that it considers "responsibilities" as imprisonment (قید).

Phuppi Tufail Fatima Care for Family and Parents

My phuppi Tufail Fatima breathed her last yesterday August 23, 2021. She was 103 years of age. Her birth-year (called ism-tareekh اسم تاریخ) is 1918 as given in the manuscript penned by her grandfather (my grandfather's father) Syed Ikram Hyder. Her Tareekhi Names derived from the birth year were Ghani Behr e Rehmat (غنی بحر رحمت), Khabeer Zahir( خبیر ظاہر), Khursheed Nusrat Panah ( خورشید نصرت پناہ). She was an exemplary woman who maintained her regimented lifestyle throughout her life till old age restricted her to bed a few years ago. Strict timings for meals, tea, prayers, and housekeeping. She did her BA in 1938 and BT in 1939 from Aligarh University. She taught in the Mauripur base school in 1950-60s. Her care for immediate family and extended family members was exemplary. All through the 1970s she first cared for her mother-in-law during her old age deathbed for around five years, and then her mother during her old age deathbed. Great lady who was worrying even during her last years about taking care of guests when she had forgotten who was who and could barely talk and had lost sense of time, era, and people around. I remember a year or so before when I visited her, she had forgotten who I was but sensed that I am a visitor and wanted to know whether I had had some refreshment. Something she did with all around.

Inna lillah e wa inna ilaihi rajioon

[Ikram Hyder was a forest officer in late 19th century and early 20th century and belonged to the Naqshbandi Sufistic tradition. This excerpt is from his documents/papers collection. The page from which this pic is cropped also contains اسم تاریخ of my uncles. The date of this writing is 1925-30, which is estimated from the ism-e-tareekh of Tufail's brother, born in 1925, and written on the same page using the same pen].

Ism e Tareekh and Qata e Wafat: How Birth and Death Years were remembered in History

Ism-e- tareekh ( اسم تاریخ) was the name computed from the year of birth. There are numbers assigned to each letter of the alphabet. Sum of the numbers assigned to each letter of birth year name evaluate to the birth year. See the computations of names of my father, uncles and phuppo by Syed Ikram Hyder Naqshbandi (father of my grandfather) written in 1930s. Typically they were made to evaluate to hijri years and then converted to Gregorian calendar year. Here it shows the names of Tufail Fatima, Syed Ahsan Hyder, Syed Luqman Hyder, Syed Osman Hyder, Syed Ramzan (Sultan) Hyder, and Syed Saeed Uddin Hyder.

Similarly, year of death was often computed from the sum of numbers assigned to the letters of a verse. Typically four (قطعہ) verses were used by poets and was called قطعہ وفات. These verses and names were used to remember the year of death and year of birth.

Saturday, May 29, 2021

Fauqul Chacha and Family Help

I knew them both and their father Fauqul Hasan Zaidi. Fauqul chacha will regularly drop at our place for morning tea with my father and mother during his break journey on his way from his home in F-6/1 to his office in the old state bank building which was being used as parliament building temporarily during the 1970s. Had heard wonderful stories of his adventures in Bengal and in Northern Pakistan.

Fauqul Chacha's Family in 1970s. Trying to find Fauqul Chacha's picture

We are greatly indebted to marhoom Rashid Bhai s/o Fauqul Hasan Zaidi for his great support and help in arranging the logistics of the wedding food arrangements of my two eldest sisters Farida apa n Ghufaira Apa. Farida Apa with Rafi Uddin Haider in 1975 and Ghufaira apa with Misbah Ahmed Zaidi s/o Fiza A Zaidi in 1977. I was in school during those days. There didn't use to be caterers of the type available today who do everything and just deliver the food on time at the event. In those days there used to be only cooks (bawarchi). It was the responsibility of event organizers to arrange for utensils, gosht, chawal, masalay, ghee,.... Individually each ingredient had to be purchased separately, utensils rented, and cooking burners set up and made available at the site. Cooks would simply come on the day, prepare n ground masalas and cook the food. Food was prepared at site by the cooks.
The entire food logistics of the two marriage functions were supervised by Rashid Bhai the great. May Allah give him the best of abodes in the hereafter. Aameen

Friday, April 16, 2021

First Makeup Experience: Impact of Childhood Experiences across Time and Space

Vividness of childhood experiences and the distance it travels across time and space. As I am going through the letters, papers and other documents of my parents dating back to the days before their marriage (1940s, they married in 1951), I come across the clues to their personality that I observed during 1966-2003, time of my conscious interactions with them till before their death. An FB post reminded me of a page from my mother's diary where she writes about an incident when she was around 10 or 12 ( 1946-47) about makeup.

Ausaf Husain and His Sincere Frankness

Syed Ausaf Hussain Marhoom: On 18th January, 2012, Ausaf Bhai left for his heavenly abode. A wrangler in the true sense and a man of high principles. With the way he carried himself, no one could gauge his true age. I remember sharing an anecdote with us that he once visited a Hakeem. Hakeem sb as per practice took the pulse and asked what was Ausaf Bhai age. Ausaf Bhai replied either 72 or 79, I cannot remember. Hakeem sb got furious and told him not to joke and that Ausaf bhai must be in 50's. A solid person upon whom you could rely in times of need. Irfan, Sara, and Khurram can dwell more on Ausaf bhai personality. May Allah grant Jannah to Ausaf bhai and buland his darajats. Ameen

Ausaf Husain with his mother

Depressive Thoughts and Poetry- How Poetry Mellows and Enriches Social Interactions

What is the relationship between depressive thoughts and poetic expression? How poetry enables us to face hardships in our lives.

What a mournful separation of the family members after the partition is depicted through poetry. Note the following message of eid Mubarak and its poetic response by members of the family across the divide. Also, note the level of education in the 1950s and the ability of the educated to express through poetry their feelings and experiences. Today educated can't even read poetry, let alone compose it.

Elegy on the Killing of PM Liaquat Ali Khan by Shah Abdul Shakoor Faridi

مرثیہ ترجیح بند در شہادت لیاقت علیخان

بر بند سعدی علیہ الرحمہ

از شاہ عبد الشکور فریدی، مانک پور

یہ مرثیہ ایک ١٩٥١ کےخط میں ملا جو کہ شاہ عبد الشکور ساکن مانک پور کا بھیجا ہوا تھا-

شاہ عبد الشکور فریدی میری والدہ کے نانا تھے- بڑے بزرگ تھے- ان کے منظوم ملفوظات میرے پاس کچھ موجود ہیں- ان کے مزار پر اب بھی عرس ہوتا ہے- ان کے کئی خطوط میرے پاس ہیں- پارٹیشن کے بعد ان کے خاندان کے اکثر لوگ ہجرت کر کے پاکستان آ گئے مگر انہوں نے اپنے آباؤاجداد کے قصبہ کو چھوڑنا مناسب نہ سمجھا- وہ وہاں اکیلے ایک دو افراد کے ساتھ رہ گئے- ان کی ایک بیٹی عائشہ فریدی(میری والدہ کی خالہ) ان کے ساتھ رہا کرتی تھیں جن کے تواتر سے دلخراش خطوط میری والدہ کے پاس آیا کرتے تھے جو کہ ان کے انتقال 1967-68 تک آتے رہے- ان خطوط میں شاہ عبد الشکور فریدی کے منظوم ملفوظات بھی ہوتے تھے- ان کا کچھ دیوان ہمارے ایک عزیز کے پاس ہے

Social History Archival Project of Family Documents and Letters: Heritage Detectives

During the Covid-19 lockdown of 2020, when work from home was imposed and most outdoor activities and social commitments were heavily curtailed, I maximally utilized the available time in structuring and organizing my family letters and documents. During 2020-21 I managed to organize around 5000 handwritten letters and other documents dating back to 1870s: The organization process involved assigning a unique identifier to each physical letter document, dating each letter/doc, and labeling the writer and addressee of each letter and doc. Then the documents/letters were sorted, categorized, indexed, and inserted into plastic protector sheets for preservation, and placed in named phsyical folders. Following processes began to evolve with practice: Adding an index entry in an excel sheet for each physical item, sending a batch of letters/docs for scanning, receiving back the batch of items and their scans, and saving the scanned files in designated computer folders. Then sending a batch of scans to the typist for transcription, receiving the computer readable transcriptions from typists, entering them into dated word documents, and then editing them and also formatting them began to evolve. This project is still a work in progress and this blog post is being updated every few months to reflect the additional learnings.

The project which had started out as a Family Documents/Letters preservation effort has now morphed into a Social History Archival Project. Eventually, this archive will become the primary data for writing a historical saga of the family travails, a window on the social history that would result in a series of videos, books, research papers or even novels or their adaptation. I am looking forward to my children or their children or other family members who opt for social sciences or can appreciate the importance of social history and may decide to continue the effort in some of these genres! My inspiration is, of course, "Kar-e-Jehan Daraz Hai" by Qurratul Ain Hyder (my father's cousin), Shajra Project by SMKA Zaidi, and UT Austin's Social History Museum as explained in my following two posts and am looking forward to others to continue the effort:

Family Tree Shajra of Sadat e Nehtaur: A Case Study of Compilation of Social History

Lesser known dimensions of US Universities - Archives of history and literature

The project required meticulous attention to detail and following the clues to identify when the documents came into existence and were preserved, and then peeping into the minds for motivations of social behaviors of that time. It often requires weaving a most probable story around them which reminds me of the detective work described in novels of Arthur Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes and Agatha Christie's Hercule Poirot or Miss Marple. Not surprisingly I came across the term "Heritage Detective" on google search which indicates that this is a specific genre and specialized services and there are careers that can be made out of it.

Pages

Friday, September 29, 2023

Saturday, April 29, 2023

Tuesday, April 18, 2023

Sunday, October 2, 2022

Family - Parental Counseling (6)

Family - Literature (1)

Family - Leadership (3)

Family - History (2)

Family - Metaphysics of LifeStyles (1)

Family - At What Cost (4)

Family - Constitution (1)

Family - IT (1)

Family - PhD (2)

Family - Excellence (2)

Family - Higher Education (2)

Family - School Education (3)

Family - Books (2)

Family - Language (1)

Family - PBL (2)

Tuesday, August 16, 2022

Friday, July 29, 2022

Thursday, July 28, 2022

Wednesday, September 8, 2021

Tuesday, August 31, 2021

Tuesday, August 24, 2021

Saturday, May 29, 2021

Friday, April 16, 2021

Wednesday, January 20, 2021

Saturday, January 16, 2021

Saturday, January 2, 2021

Wednesday, October 14, 2020