Sindhu Ocean; Sindhu River 

DEVENDRA G KODWANI’S SINDHI IDENTITY HAD A SOLID FOUNDATION IN HIS CHILDHOOD, AND HE WRITES ABOUT HOW IT EVOLVED THROUGH INTERACTION WITH THE NON-SINDHI WORLD HE LATER ENCOUNTERED, AS WELL AS HIS STUDY OF SINDHI LANGUAGE, LITERATURE, AND PHILOSOPHY

Through loyalty to the past, our mind refuses to realize that tomorrow’s joy is possible only if today’s makes way for it; that each wave owes the beauty of its line only to the withdrawal of the preceding one. One doesn’t discover new lands without consenting to lose sight of the shore for a very long time.

ANDRE GIDE 

A confused but happy and naïve adolescent boy

In my first four years of schooling in the Kubernagar refugee camp, we sat on hard stone-tiled floors. It was the ‘New Main School’ run by the Municipal Council, ten square rooms appended to an existing primary school campus. Each room had two grilled windows with grey wooden panes on the wall opposite the door, and one window opening onto the corridor. I often sat looking out of the windows that overlooked the rear of the school, a wasteland with a few wild bushes, backed by a clear, blue sky. One wall had a black rectangle, three-foot by eight-foot, and that was the blackboard. One table and one chair were the only furniture in the classroom.

Sitting on the floor, looking up at the blackboard – it was a pain in the neck. All our subjects were taught in the Sindhi language.

Looking back, I wonder what impression those formative years had on my sense of identity. Teachers and parents did not compare religion, caste, social and economic differences, or convey any impression that we Sindhis were victims of Partition. The school environment was safe both physically and intellectually. Between lessons, we would make lot of noise and tease one another, but keep an eye out for the teacher or headmaster, and during recess we ran wild, playing on dusty ground, sharing water from a large black earthen tank left open to the skies, laughing artlessly. Nobody had to tell us that we were equals. And most of us belonged to similar families, with parents busy trying to make ends meet. We experienced homogeneity at home too, on the streets and, most importantly, in the neighbourhoods of my two homes.

One home was that of my parents, where I was born and raised, in one of the few refugee camps that were set up for Sindhis in barracks on the outskirts of Ahmedabad after Partition. Our tiny two-room tin-roofed home housed, at one point, fifteen members spanning three generations, including us six siblings, of whom I am the eldest. Sharing was a given, whether of beds, storage for clothes, or space for toys and other things. When we brothers quarreled over our toys, Dadi would say, “Vandi viraahi sukhu paaye – share and be happy”. Sharing, caring and blessings were the norm on our streets and in our neighbourhood. If I happened to be at a friend’s home at dinner time, staying on for dinner was expected. Swapping vegetable dishes with neighbours signified affection. Most ladies in neighbouring households knew I liked besani tikki – cutlets of gram flour – and would oblige when they prepared it. On the first day of the lunar calendar, chandu – ‘moon’, in groups of threes and fours, we boys would visit the tikana – the Sindhi temple where Sikh gurus are worshipped – in the next street. We would then go to all the homes in the neighbourhood and seek the blessings of our elders by touching their feet. It was a large and homogenous family, somehow lacking ego struggles and self- importance, though fights in the queues at the few water taps shared by dozens of families were not uncommon. Drainage and piped water arrived in our home when I was about ten or twelve years old, and

cooking gas much later.

My second home was about a kilometer away. My maternal grandparents, uncles and aunts lived in a pucca house. It was one of very few two-storey buildings in the camp. Eventually I would spend most of my time with my maternal grandparents and their family, and this continues even today when I visit Ahmedabad.

Neither my maternal nor paternal grandfathers ever complained about losing their homes in Sindh. My nana, maternal grandfather, was a Unani hakim. His knowledge of traditional medical systems enabled him to support the family in Ahmedabad. Nana was always smiling; I never saw him angry. I was his first grandchild, and fondly remember him setting me on his lap and cuddling me, between patients at his clinic. Baba, my paternal grandfather, settled his family in Ahmedabad but lived in Kopargaon near Ahmednagar in Maharashtra, about 540 kilometers away from Kubernagar, where he set up a bakery and a small grocery shop.

Living away from one’s family for trade is not new for a Sindhi. He would visit Ahmedabad only once in a year, usually before Diwali. He was an extraordinarily simple, hardworking, soft spoken and loving grandpa. Among all my family, I remember him as the one most concerned about my and my siblings’ school education, never failing to meet and establish bonds with our tutors whenever he visited. I remember him reading spiritual and religious books, including Swami Lilashah Darshan, a translation of Tagore’s novel Akhsur, Vivekchudamani of Adi Shankaracharya, and Ashtavakra Gita, all in Arbi Sindhi. He read the weekly Sindhi newspaper and would discuss with me what I had read in Gujarati and English newspapers. My Nani read me stories of Sikh gurus, other Hindu religious books and narrated mythological stories. I loved hearing the life stories of Guru Nanak and his co-travellers, Bala and Mardana, and about the bravery of Guru Gobind Singh. I feel that my passion for reading is inherited from my baba and my Nani, and I resent casual remarks about Sindhis not being interested in intellectual pursuits or education not directly related to economic gain.

Studying in Sindhi medium while learning Gujarati, Hindi, English, Sanskrit and a year of Persian strengthened what I did not recognize at the time as the free-spirited liberal view of valuing diversity. Even though Sindhi is a sister language of Sanskrit derivatives like Bengali, Hindi, Gujarati and others, it is written in Arabic, Devanagari, Gurmukhi (Punjabi) and now Roman scripts. We studied in Sindhi but read and wrote in Arabic script, from right to left, which we found as convenient as writing Hindi, English and Gujarati from left to right. The rich phonetics provided by the fifty-two alphabets of Sindhi, with its nasal vowels and wide range of other sounds, have given me a verbal repertoire which I cherish. All non-Sindhis in Kubernagar spoke and understood Sindhi. It was a self-contained world, an ocean vibrant with social-cultural-linguistic waves – secure and homogenous but never monotonous. We mixed with cobblers, played with children of our housemaids and other non-Sindhi manual workers. While preparing for my secondary school exams, I shared a borrowed study room in our neighbourhood with my friend Ganpat, who was the son of a barber. Caste restrictions were unknown to me at the time. At fifteen, I was a confused but happy and naïve adolescent boy.

Secure in the knowledge of my ignorance

The first ever non-textbook I bought, at about age fifteen, was an English-to-Sindhi Dictionary by Parmanand Mewaram so that I could learn more English than was being taught at school. I bought used textbooks from neighbours who were a year ahead, and then handed them down to my younger brother who was a year behind me. Our teachers taught us the Sindhi poetry of Shah Abdul Latif, Sachal Sarmast and Sami, as well as contemporary Sindhi poets, but they spent so much time explaining meanings that the charm of the poems was lost. The spiritual messages in the romantic tales of Sasui Punhu and Lila Chanesar was never going to appeal to teenagers! However, I did enjoy the Sufi Kalaamu of Sachal Sarmast for their irreverent and rebellious tone which challenged the limits of orthodoxy and declared unity with the Almighty. The seeds of the spiritual quest had been planted by Sachal’s poems alongside ethical maxims that came up in the stories that Nani read. Festivals and rituals round the year exposed us to cultural traditions in various formats, from street plays to Ramlilas which offered a variety of renditions of the Shiv Purana, the Mahabharat and Ramayana, and stories of the Sikh Gurus.

When I joined college in the city fifteen kilometers from Kubernagar, my lack of exposure to non-Sindhi social mores made me awkward and diffident, even though I had topped school in the Higher Secondary examination. My exposure increased as I read voraciously, spending hours browsing in bookstores and the Gandhi Road secondhand book market, the British Library as well as the libraries of Gujarat Vidyapith, Gujarat University, and Indian Institute of Management Ahmedabad (IIMA) through my graduation and postgraduation, and when I started working at IIMA as research and teaching assistant. I read philosophy, science, politics, Indian spiritual literature of Ramakrishna Paramahamsa and Swami Vivekanand, as well as various magazines and newspapers. I found parallels between J Krishnamurti’s writings and Sufi Kalaam. I listened to BBC Radio in Hindi and then in English, and I practiced speaking English to the wall in a closed room, as I had no one to speak to. Expanding intellectual awareness and insights led me back to Sindhi literature, and I chose to study it intensely as part of my civil services examination (which I failed twice in the finals). This led me to visit Indian Institute of Sindhology, which had been established in 1990 in Gandhidham, Kachchh, for the preservation and promotion of Sindhi culture in all its manifestations. Among the founders, Dr Satish Rohra, late Professor Pritam Varyani, Lakhmi Khilani and later Sahib Bijani, I discovered intellectual giants who in their retirement years had embarked on this splendid mission. Their affection and hospitality, as well as the immense commitment and courage required for the task they had undertaken, made an irrevocable mark on me. I discovered refined dimensions of Sindhi culture as manifested in critical literature, folk literature, folk music and other performing arts which I had not encountered in Ahmedabad.

Working at IIMA, a step into the western world, gave me new cultural exposure. Most of the students came from well-off, well-educated families, and had studied at elite schools and universities. Most of the professors had studied in the US. Their intellectual environment and life perspectives were different from mine. I travelled daily between the two worlds, from the homogenous cultural context of my home in the refugee camp where we still lived, and the prosperous western side of Ahmedabad in which IIMA stood like an island. I embraced these differences, feeling satisfied with my own simple expectations from life, compared with the rat-race these young people were entering in the corporate world, where success was measured by salary and position of power. Little did I know that in just a few years, I would find myself in the real western world, in Manchester, UK, studying for a PhD.

My identity as a Sindhi had thrived, in the sense of the richness of Sindhi culture as a shining illustration of the few global cultures which have been shaped by a constant flow of ideas, conventions, religious traditions and languages. There was a lot more to explore; I remained secure in the knowledge of my ignorance, which propelled me to stay curious. Sindhis adjust and adapt to social and economic conditions to survive and flourish. This much is well known. Sindhis also create opportunities where none existed. Consider our reach. There is hardly a time zone in which a Sindhi is not found. There is hardly a country where a Sindhi is not found. There is hardly a major language which at least few Sindhis do not speak. There is hardly any currency which has not crossed trading accounts of Sindhis. There is hardly an art, profession, or science in which Sindhis have not applied their mind and body. What explains this extreme fluidity and ability that characterizes the Sindhi way of life?

Pondering on who I am

The history of the Sindhi identity has been variously but significantly affected by geography. Sindhi people travelled to different places – and also received people from different places, creating an unorthodox culture which serendipitously creates an inherently rich and pragmatic identity, profound and simple at the same time.

When I first read Jethmal Parsram Gulrajani’s book Sindh and its Sufis, I was greatly influenced by it and saw many parallels between Sufism, mysticism, and Advait Vedant (non-dualism) philosophy. Gulrajani describes Sindh where people experienced constant social change over a thousand-odd years:

Contact with so many religions, with so many nations, with so many civilizations, has had two important results, which form the chief features of this province ... One is that this province has not been able to build up individuality. Individuality is the result of concentration of forces.

By force, Gulrajani’s means the power of the ruling elite, over a population whose religion, customs and language preferences affect ordinary people. Gulrajani further wrote:

Sindh, originally Hindu, has been more or less in close contact with the Greek, the Scythian, the Arabian, the Persian and the various sub-nations of Islam; the result has been that it has been flattened into what may be called a state of negation. It is a province which, in the matter of race, is neither Ancient Indo-Aryan nor Arabian Semitic, but is a conglomeration of many elements – Scythian perhaps predominating. In the matter of religion, it is neither prominently Hindu, nor prominently orthodox Muslim. Its population is chiefly Muslim, but its Islamism is quite different, for instance, from that of Malabar. Neither Hindus nor Muslims are orthodox in Sindh. Orthodoxy is the result of a concentrated single force. Many conflicting forces result in lack of orthodoxy.

It is this lack of orthodoxy that defines Sindhi identity. The ancestral land of the Sindh province was lost after Partition – but in return, those who left Sindh in 1947 or after, got the whole world and became global citizens.

In contemporary scientific literature, neurolinguists have proposed that language and emotions are interrelated. I do not know if my emotional experiences in childhood would have been different, and led to a different sense of identity if I had learnt in another language than Sindhi. Psychologists and brain scientists continue to find that our emotional experiences are not separate from our rational senses. The fundamental principles of physical sciences are challenged by quantum theory and the old Cartesian split of mind-body is being questioned. In such a situation, social identity formed and shaped over decades, must remain a work in progress, an Identity in the Making.

Andre Gide’s wise words strike home: “Whoever studies himself arrests his own development. A caterpillar who seeks to know himself would never become a butterfly.”

The journey that started in a refugee camp that looked like the ocean of Sindh has come to a point where that ocean appears as one of many wonderful cultures on this planet. Floating in a homogenous Sindhi ocean felt like floating in the river Sindhu, which is but one of many cultural rivers that flow into a global Sindhu for, literally, Sindhu means ocean.

RANJIT MOTI BUTANI

29/11/1949 - 10/9/2022

My Brother-like Friend

By Raj Daswani
 

My relationship with Ranjit goes back many years.

I met him in his office which was at New Haven building at the time when he came out with his first issue of Sindhishaan.

My flat "Ashiana", so near his home and office had me go often to visit, where Madan Jumani was present, Madan introduced me he said "yes I have heard his name". Then after every week we used to call each other. He used to look after my financials and tax matters.

We attended practically every International Sindhi Sammelan. 

Whenever I visited India first I used to visit him an exchange a big hug, go for lunch at Khar Gymkhana or a Chinese restaurant along with his sweet wife and Ram Jawahrani.

Few years back on my last visit to India he gave me a big hug asking me "How many brothers do you have?." I replied "I am all alone.". He gave me a big hug and said, "Raj hereafter we are brothers."

It was a big shock to me hearing about my brother-like friend.

May you always rest in peace my brother. You will be deeply missed.

***************

POEM FOR DAD

By Amit Butani

Childhood  road trips to Agra and Chail
Jim Corbett, Nainital and adventurous trails
Being held to the sky like spider man
 by his strong and unwavering  sturdy hands 
My Father, My Hero !

Giving me funny long names that we would laugh out loud together
Swinging me between  his strong thighs and
singing " ek bangale bane nyaara "
My Father , My Hero !

An amazing singer,  man of fortitude
Tall and strong built frame, rooted firmly to the ground
A calm demenour, yet a commanding voice
My Father, My Hero !

The London and Amsterdam Trips together we made
Drinking fine malts & dining together
Getting funny high in hotel rooms,  laughing out loud.  cracking jokes , and getting emotional together
My Father , My Hero !

A persona that demanded respect wherever he went
Helped many  a soul that needed help
Lived generously ,  gave compassionately
A gregarious man
My Father , My Hero !

Loving father , but more of a friend
Giving guidance when asked  and the beautiful moments spent
Wisdom galore , storehouse of knowledge , a towering support
My Father , My Hero!

I don't know  about your struggles , your fears , tour cares
You hid them well for all these years
I am sure you faced them with strength and valour
Cause whenever I asked " Dad anything you need  to mend ?"
The answer would reverberate " Anand hi Anand "
My Father , My Hero!

White PJ's or a lungi and Banyan
Hands tucked within banyan or clasped behind the head
Whistling any song with melodious ease
A character so strong without a crease
My Father, My Hero!

I will never know what you went through
in the last couple of months
But I know you knew everything  that was coming up front
Whenever I asked " Dad you doing ok ?
A smile on your face ,  giving s thumbs up in such adversity made all the uncertainty vanish away
My Father , My Hero!

I know you have left us but only to live within us
like a guiding angel watching over us
I know you are at peace and enjoying your malts
Flirting with the angels and celebration throughout
Love you "Dude" from deep within my heart
I wish I can be a fraction of the original rockstar
My Father , My Hero !

Love till eternity

YOUR SON

***************

A Heartfelt Tribute to her

Father-in-law, Late Shri Ranjit Butani

By Mrs. Neetu Butani

Now that I have grown and seen what life has shown you are someone I have always looked up to.

Like Papa loved me and pampered me while I was a Jethwani once he passed the baton to you, you did the same or even more since I was a Butani. You detached the word 'in law' from daughter and since then been an amazing father

(my favourite line )

The pillar of strength of the Butani family whose door one could knock anytime,you always opened the door with a smile and ensured one has walked out fine.

Sitting on the bed without any walking, you could entertain your grandkids for hours just by your talking.

When we were moving to Dubai we were happy and nervous, your simple kind words "These doors are always open" made all the difference.

When I lost my mom I was miserable and sad who helped me reduce my sorrow was THIS DAD.

You were a man who would always side the right. A Simple and Humble soul without any pride.

Time is flying and in no time we will be in-laws Amit and me need to learn from your nature so that our kids and their spouses have a happy future.

You may be gone physically but like you said for mummy I know you too will always be there beside me. I know you tried your best but seeing you suffer made us strong to let you go.

Wishing you a happy eternal journey and pray you be blessed with the light you were always looking for. You will always be remembered and live within us for what you were 'A perfect DAD', OUR HERO.

Thank you for the most memorable precious moments you spent with us just before you left us.

Adios Mr Anand. Hugs and more love until we meet again

Choti Beti 

***************

RANJIT BUTANI

The Gentleman with a Heart of Gold

By Arun Babani

“Sir even scolds with a smile.” (A remark from one of his staffers)

I have millions of fond memories of Butani Saab. He kept criticism in the background and sang praises with both his arms wide open. When I would mail him an article, in less than half an hour his bright, smiling voice would ring in my ears…He would call with such affectionate enthusiasm and ask, ”Arun, how do you do this? ”And I would melt in humility!

I’ve written for many editors over the years but no one can match Butani’s genuine encouragement. He simply was an honest, down-to-earth, simple soul who did not believe in ritualistic formal communications. His heart would ooze out in his responses and relationships. This, according to me, is very very rare.

I consider the fourteen years I wrote for Sindhishaan to be by far the best phase of my journalistic journey. Not so much for the name/fame it gave me, but for being close to this rare gentleman with a golden heart. I remain indebted to him for life for his whole hearted support which made me believe in myself and my work as a writer.

Good bye boss; in you I found an Angel who came into my life to help me see myself in a new light.

Gratitude. Gratitude. Gratitude.

***************

Ranjit Butani

A True Human Being

By Dr. Baldev B. Matlani

Around the time when world entered third millennium, Rajesh Bhambhani, an old student of mine from Jai Hind College paid a visit to my office at University of Mumbai. He told me about impending launch of a magazine in English but dedicated solely to promote Sindhi cause of language and culture etc. He had brought a dummy of the same. It was titled ‘Sindhishaan’ and looked just superb. I liked it instantly.

Rajesh Bhambhani informed me, that the same was brainchild of one Mr. Ranjit Butani who lived in Bandra, Mumbai. He wanted my co-operation in that venture. The get up of the dummy was so attractive, that I committed not only my services for it but even offered my brother Prem Matlani’s services to provide timely write up for it.

Exactly around same period, Mr. Madan Jumani also met me and told that same Ranjit Butani had entrusted him with production of thirteen TV episodes exclusively showcasing culture & civilization of Sindh and Sindhis. He also wanted me to help him with it.

Before Partition of India, in Karachi’s famous institution D.J. Sindh College, there used to be one principal Mr. Narain Butani, who was also instrumental in appointing Ram Panjwani as the lecturer in the same college. This Ranjit Butani was grand-son of same Prin. Narain Butani.

Mr. Ranjit Motilal Butani had a company, named ‘Sachinam Industries Pvt. Ltd.’, whose designated office was located at the first floor of ‘Blue Heaven’, Linking Road, Bandra and he lived on its second floor.

Mr. Butani had engaged Madan Jumani to produce 13 episodes of a TV serial, who also wanted me to assist him with it. Mr. Butani had given some office space to Madan Jumani on the ground floor of same building, where I began visiting him on regular basis. Madan Jumani had not only penned the script but to direct it too.

Madan Jumani had a long standing association with me since 1981, when he used to judge Inter-Collegiate Sindhi Drama Competition, which we held on annual basis at Jai Hind College, Churchgate, Bombay. He had sought my feedback on few scripts which he had already produced till then.

Whenever I visited Madan Jumani at Butani’s office, former used to take me along and have a tete-a-tete with later. Mr. Ranjit Butani, though in his forties was a hero material, he was tall, fair and handsome. He had a good demeanor too. A smile was a permanent fixture on his face and always treated me like a family member, but we used not to bother him much and spent much of our time at Madan Jumani’s office.

Slowly and gradually, I became close to whole of his office staff, be it his P.A. Mr. Kumar Jain or reporter Sunder Iyer. Madan Jumani filmed one episode of his TV serial in Jhoolelal Temple, Ulhasnagar. Not only I assisted him as an Associate Director in its making but even played a teacher’s role, too. I gave out a lecture on Lord Jhoolelal before students among which was my nephew Aditya Matlani, too. In still photography of the said episode, I was shown telling something to Aditya, which later on Butani Sir, used as cover page of his forthcoming issue of ‘Sindhishaan’. It added to my exposure. Butani Sir had come to Ulhasnagar, for its shoot which also led to our intimacy.

There is one Sindhis’ social group in Pune, who was going to celebrate the ‘Cheti Chand’ festival. We all were invited to attend it and for that we all, i.e. Dada Ram Jethmalani, former Union Law Minister of India; Ranjit Butani, Ram Jawhrani and myself went in a car to Pune and spent quality time in each other’s company. I had introduced my elder brother Prem Matlani also to Ranjit Butani, who took instant liking for him. He always wanted one article from we both the brothers for each issue. He was so generous with me that he used to give my name in the imprint of his magazine ‘Sindhishaan’, as Editorial Consultant & Photo Editor, Dr. Baldev Matlani. Though in fact, I contributed little to it and Butani Sir himself took care of every aspect of publishing of the magazine, but he always appreciated my work.

Once, Butani’s ‘Sindhishaan’ correspondent, Mr. sunder Iyer told me that he wanted to show four generations of Sindhis in India, starting from older one who were witness to trials and tribulation of the Partition, another born in India immediately after Partition, their descendants who were young at the turn of the millennium and their kids, too. I suggested our cousin Mr. Sajandas Matlani, who was young at the time of Partition, his sons born around that time, their young children and their kids.

Sunder Iyer interviewed Sajandas Matlani to have firsthand knowledge of the experiences of Partition. I took out some photos which were later on printed alongside their story, in coming issue of ‘Sindhishaan’. It happened that all these photos, on cover page showing me with my nephew, and one each article by myself and Prem Matlani were included in it. Those days, at one of the meeting, where a BJP stalwart, Mr. K.R. Malkani was there, he literally complained that the issue of that time ‘Sindhishaan’ had become ‘Matlani Issue’.

With the passage of time, our intimacy with Butani Sir increased. Occasionally, he used to visit my elder brother Prem Matlani’s home at Ulhasnagar where we could open up a lot with each other.

Butani Sir shifted his office from Linking Road, Bandra; first to Khira Nagar, Santa Cruz (West) and then Khar (West), where occasionally we both brothers visited him, as he used to enjoy our company, even when he was a big shot and we couldn’t claim of being his friends, then too, he loved us a lot.

As advertisements for ‘Sindhishaan’ couldn’t keep up the pace with the expenditure incurred on its publication, it inflicted heavy losses on his finances. Then reluctantly, Ranjit Butani shifted its publication from physical copy to soft copy which continued for one more year.

Butani Sir had been so kind towards me, that when I retired from my services in September, 2013, from the post of Professor, University of Mumbai; my staff and students arranged a ‘Farewell Party’ in my honour, which was also attended by Ms. Priya Dutt, M.P. and Ranjit Butani, himself too. He had specifically published an issue of ‘Sindhishaan’, with just myself on its cover page and few extra brochures, containing my life story. I feel sad to say, that ‘Sindhishaan’ issue which Butani Sir brought that day was the last issue of its physical publication.

***************

RANJIT BUTANI

FULL OF LOVE, KINDNESS & AFFINITY

By Dr. Ram Buxani

It was during 2004, when I happened to be in Mumbai. A lovely person talked to me on phone. He was Ranjit Butani, who had just finished studying my book “Taking the High Road” and he wanted to see me personally. I was staying at ‘Oberoi Towers’ hotel at Nariman Point and I fixed our appointment at ‘Belvedere Club’ of the same hotel.

When I entered the said club, he was already seated there and was sipping a cup of tea. I instantly felt love for his person. We had an embrace and I noticed that he was a middle aged person exuding immense confidence in him. He had a thorough knowledge of world affairs. We began mutual liking for each other at first-sight.

Ranjit had an obsession like love for his mother-tongue Sindhi, which in a way compelled him to publish an English quarterly magazine “Sindhishaan”. A copy of its latest issue impressed me a lot. It was nicely printed and used art paper instead of ordinary one. He had also spent heavily on production of 13 episodes of a tele-serial in Sindhi language, which were being telecast on national TV, ‘Sahyadri’ channel. He not only took pride in being a Sindhi guy but conveyed our message of universal love, peace and harmony to each and everyone.

Occasionally we would bump into each other at different venues. Once we celebrated the birthday of Dadi Hari Vaswani at Dubai. For us she was mother, personified. To commemorate it, Ranjit Butani published my article “Ma Tujhe Salam” in Sindhishaan. I had given such a call to whole Sindhi community to celebrate Dadi Hari Vaswani’s birthday as “Mother’s Day”, but somehow it couldn’t fructify and the idea got nipped in the bud, unfortunately.

Dr. Baldev Matlani used to hold International Seminars at University of Mumbai, on annual basis where he invited

litterateurs from all over the world to present their papers. Once he held one such seminar to commemorate sesquicentennial celebration of University of Mumbai. It was December of 2007, when Srichand Hinduja from London, his brother Ashok Hinduja from India, Dr. Mazhar-ul-Haq Siddiqui, the then Vice Chancellor of University of Sindh, another big writer Amar Jahil, who had been earlier Vice Chancellor of “Allama Iqbal Open University”, Islamabad from Pakistan attended it. Dr. Matlani insisted that I must also present a paper which I duly obliged him and read a paper titled “Sindhis, God’s Gift to Global Economy”.

University of Mumbai had published that paper of me with same title “Sindhis, God’s Gift to Global Economy”. That book was the brainchild of Ranjit Butani as he had ample experience of publishing quality magazines. His contribution had added to the beauty of the book.

After that we would regularly meet each other whenever I happen to be at Mumbai which added to my spiritual contentment. I used to read his magazine “Sindhishaan” on regular basis as it went on to become more and more beautiful with the passage of time. He continued it for some ten-fifteen years but as it needed continuous outflow of funds, it had to end some day. If anyone is to be blamed for discontinuation of its publication, it must be borne by all us Sindhis. We read every little and do not encourage such ventures and just come out with various excuses for that. Alas ! Our priorities do not lie with encouragement of our language and literature.

Ajrakh

Dress code of the gypsy from the Rann of Kutch

The chronological technique of printing fabrics emerged around the Indus River in the Sindh area significantly about 4000 years ago. The fabric originated its name from the Sanskrit word ‘A-jharat - that which does not fade or ‘Azrak’ the Arabic word for blue could also fiddle a role in the name.

Historiographers believe the fabrics excavated at sites like Fustat in Egypt, were mainly sourced from India, which was cultivated around the Indus River in Sindh Area since the river provided washing and dyeing fabrics in indigo to the specific community living by the riverside. Anecdotes have it that Ajrakh printers are descendants of King Rama. 

Teacher: You have Rs 4,000 and your best friend messages you saying he needs 2,000.

Then your wife messages you saying she needs Rs 1,000.

What are you left with?

Sindhi Student: Rs 4,000 and 2 unread messages!!!

Launched with love for everything Sindhi, our newsletter, Sindhi Samachar, aims to be circulated amongst our Sindhi family and friends intended to forge unity and interaction within our community. We hope our brothers and sisters globally participate and contribute towards it with your views, Sindhi news, Sindhi jokes, or Sindhi recipes, which we will be happy to publish under your name.

Editorial Content

Raj Daswani

Umesh Daswani

Vini Melwani 

Geeta Raj

Disclaimer:The views and opinions expressed in Sindhi Samachar by our contributors are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the editorial team of Sindhi Samachar. Any content provided by our contributors, bloggers or authors are of their opinion and are not intended to malign any religion, ethnic group, club, organization, company, individual or anyone or anything.