Footprints

Memoirs of an Indian Patriarch

Maghanmal J. Pancholia

Maghanmal J. Pancholia
 Footprints
Memoirs of an Indian Patriarch
 Footprints

Memoirs of an Indian Patriarch

Maghanmal J. Pancholia

As narrated to Vasanti Sundaram

Published by Motivate Publishing

Dubai: PO Box 2331, Dubai, UAE

Tel: (+971 4) 282 4060; fax: (+971 4) 282 7898
e-mail: books@motivate.ae www.booksarabia.com Dedication
Office 508, Building No 8, Dubai Media City, Dubai, UAE
Tel: (+971 4) 390 3550; fax: (+971 4) 390 4845
To Thatta, a home I can never leave behind
Abu Dhabi: PO Box 43072, Abu Dhabi, UAE To Dubai, a home I can never let go
Tel: (+971 2) 677 2005; fax: (+971 2) 677 0124 To my family and friends
To my parents
London: Acre House, 11/15 William Road, London NW1 3ER
e-mail: motivateuk@motivate.ae

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© Motivate Publishing and Maghanmal J. Pancholia 2009

Jethanand Lalchand Pancholia Totabai Jethanand Pancholia

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form
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ISBN: 978 1 86063 265 5

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 Contents
Foreword viii
Preface xii
1 People I Belong To 1
2 Growing Up In Thatta 5
3 Road Often Travelled 12
4 A Little More Of Thatta 21
5 Back To School 26
6 College In Karachi 34
7 Leaving One Home For Another 41
8 Turning Point 47
9 Past Forward 53
10 Crossing Over 58
11 Alleys Of Souk Al Banian 64
12 View From The Top 69
13 On Board 75
14 The Pearling Trade 86
15 The Creek 92
16 Setting The Stage 99
17 Up And Running 103
18 My Role Model 109
19 Footprints 116
20 Then There Were Those . . . 128
21 The Indian Association 143
22 The Indian Club 154
23 The Indian High School 159
24 Brave New World 176
25 Moving On 185
26 Travel Log 192
27 Notes From Nathdwara 201
28 Helping Hands 209
29 Call Of The Community 219
30 Lighting Knowledge Candles 226
31 Family Speak 235
32 Having Their Say 240
33 Colleagues And Countrymen 257
34 Fascination For The Printed World 271
35 Still A Student 277
36 Short Fuse 281
37 Stumbling Blocks 288
38 My Day Everyday 292
39 Generation Next 300
Epilogue 304
Acknowledgements 308
 Foreword

One of my earliest recollections of the Indian community in

A sketch of the neighbourhood where the author lived, by His Excellency Mirza Al Sayegh.
Dubai is of Sheikh Rashid bin Saeed Al Maktoum, the late Ruler of
Dubai, visiting the homes of Indian merchants on important festi-
val days such as Diwali. After exchanging greetings and relishing the
ladoos that would be served to him, he would take his leave. His de-
parture would signal our turn to rush in and grab our share of the
generous spread. The entire area would be decorated with lights and
reverberate with ‘live’ music. We enjoyed the celebrations as much as
our Indian friends did.
During the ’50s, our lives centred around the Jama mosque and the
souk in Bur Dubai; the Indian community and most of the Arabs lived
in the same neighbourhood within 100 feet of each other. Every day,
the locals followed the same routine – leaving their homes in the morn-
ing, they headed straight to Sheikh Rashid’s office to greet and update
him on all matters over hot cups of tea. Once this was done, they visited
Souk Al Banian to meet the Indian merchants and discuss trade.
My father followed the same routine. He would spend his mornings
with the Indian businessmen, and then conduct Arabic and English
classes in his madrassa by the Creek during the evenings. Some of the
Indian community leaders were his students then; clearly validating
a relationship that goes way back in time. It is a relationship we are
extremely proud of and sincerely seek to nurture. Together, we have
shared the same dreams for this country and for Dubai, and together
we have worked hard to realize those aspirations.
Dubai’s ties with India go back to the days when it began taking shape
as a port, and established relations with Bandar Abbas and Bushara on
one side and Mumbai on the other. Realizing the importance of building
up its trade activities and aware of the Indian merchants’ astute business
acumen, the Al Maktoum family invited the community, more specifi-
cally the Thattais (Sindhis), to come to Dubai and set up their commer-
cial activities in textiles, pearls, gold and money exchange.

viii ix
 After the demise of Sheikh Maktoum bin Hasher, when Sheikh
Saeed bin Maktoum Al Maktoum took over as Ruler of Dubai in
1912, he introduced more policies that allowed the Iranians and
Indians to dynamically participate in trading activities, and therefore
in the emirate’s development. With Sheikh Rashid assuming the title
in 1958, this synergy was further driven forward.
Sheikh Rashid appreciated the fact that India was the first country
to pledge its support to the formation of the United Arab Emirates
federation in 1971. So proud was he of the Indian community that he
would make sure they were invited to all official receptions. It was as
if he wanted to tell everyone, especially the visiting dignitaries: “Please
know, these are the people who have helped me build Dubai.”
With Sheikh Rashid setting such a precedent, it was only natu-
ral that his sons would emulate his example. And the harmoni-
ous relationship continued when late Sheikh Maktoum bin Rashid
Al Maktoum became the Ruler of Dubai in 1990. Since 2006, the
same spirit of cordiality and brotherhood has prevailed under the
dynamic leadership of His Highness Sheikh Mohammed bin Rashid
Al Maktoum as Vice-President and Prime Minister of the UAE, and
Ruler of Dubai.
When His Highness Sheikh Hamdan bin Rashid Al Maktoum,
Deputy Ruler of Dubai and the UAE Minister of Finance and Indus-
try, held his wedding reception in 1987, he wished to express his ap-
preciation of the Indians’ role in nation building by inviting them to
the event. He asked us to draw a list of persons who we thought were
representative of the community. We presented him with 60 names.
While reviewing the list, he looked surprised and asked: “Do you
mean there are only 60 people leading such a huge community in the
whole of the UAE? Please get me more names.” Eventually, we man-
aged to put together a list of over 250 people including businessmen,
academics, managers, philanthropists and others. All of them were
invited to the royal reception, much to the satisfaction of the HH
Sheikh Hamdan.
The Indians have proved their dedication and devotion not just to
their families and homeland, but to our country as well. Thanks to
stalwarts such as Maghanmal Jethanand Pancholia, the community
has been guided to achieve great successes for itself and for the UAE
at large.
x xi
I was once invited to speak at a gathering to felicitate the visit of
a high profile Indian delegation. The chief guest asked me about
Dubai’s secret for success. I told him I would share this with him in
my speech. When I took the floor, I said, “The answer lies in this
room itself; look around you, all those you see here have been key to
Dubai’s success, responsible for its unprecedented growth. Together,
we have laid brick by brick to erect this phenomenal business model
called Dubai.”
In the same speech, I even went on to say, “If you want me to be
more specific, allow me to acknowledge the pillar of this community
– Mr Maghanmal Jethanand Pancholia.”
My mention of his name evoked a thunderous applause from the
audience. Magabha truly deserves this distinction.
He has been my neighbour, friend, and a co-member on the board
of several organizations. I have known him to be affable, modest,
highly informed, honest, straightforward and forever young at heart.
It is remarkable that despite his age, he still continues to be actively
involved in his community and company affairs.
Even today, I see him leading his fellow community members at
every significant gathering. He is always present with his people to re-
iterate their commitment to the rulers and to the country.
It does not surprise then that our leaders have always regarded the
Indian community as an integral component of this nation. The sym-
biotic association is destined to grow even further as the UAE’s poli-
cies simply cannot be de-linked from the presence, participation and
contribution of the foreign communities living in this country.
Footprints – Memoirs of an Indian Patriarch will not only serve as
Magabha’s personal memoir, it will be held as a historical reference
of this emirate by the younger generation, Arabs and Indians alike.
I wish the endeavour every success and hope Magabha continues
to hold the inspirational torch that he has been carrying for almost
eight decades now.
His Excellency Mirza Al Sayegh
Office of HH Sheikh Hamdan bin Rashid Al Maktoum
 Preface

In junior school a science teacher called Pardhasani privately

coached us after school hours. An exceptional teacher with several
books on Physics to his credit, he lived about a kilometre away from
our home. Every alternate evening, about six or seven of us would
walk to his house at around eight and return home at ten. On one
such day, we did something most unexpected – we broke almost 30
street lanterns on our way back home.
Thatta, the place where I come from, had no electricity back then.
All the roads were lit by lanterns that were provided by the municipal-
ity. It was the job of a worker to fill the lamps with kerosene and light
them around sunset. That night, we pelted these lanterns one by one
with stones and ran away before anyone could spot us.
When we reached the school the next morning, we saw Mr Mir-
chandani, the chief secretary of Thatta Municipality, venting his ire
on our headmaster. He was convinced one of the students was respon-
sible for the misdeed. Fortunately, my name did not feature on the
‘suspected’ list.
Unaware that we were damaging public property, it took me a long
time to get over that incident. A few years later, when I was in high
school, I got the chance to prove my discomfort over hiding the truth.
Out of the 40 students in my class, only two or three were girls.
And, one of the boys habitually troubled them. On a specially busy day
when most of the teachers were preoccupied, he took things a little too
far and the matter got out of hand. On hearing the girls’ complaints,
the headmaster, Devanmal Jagasia, demanded to know who the mis-
creant was. Every student was subjected to a gruelling inquisition, yet
none confessed the truth. When my turn came, I told the headmaster,
“Excuse me Sir, I can tell you what I know.”
Without any qualms of being tagged a spoilsport, I told him I had
noticed his son entering and leaving the classroom through the win-
dow. I added that I didn’t know what subsequently took place. The

xiii
whole class was askance I had spilt the beans. I was unruffled; it didn’t
matter what they thought of me as long as my conscience was clear; I
had dared to stand up for what was right.
The headmaster understood the implication of my words, and
instead of getting upset that I had given his son away in front of the
entire class, he was happy I had spoken the truth. He immediately rep-
rimanded his son and handed out appropriate punishment. Following
that incident, whenever a problem surfaced in the school, the head-
master called me to confirm the truth, which I thought was a great
endorsement of his faith in my word.
Since then and until today, I have tried to be true to myself and to
all those I am connected with. In the same vein, I have done my best
to be true to my memory in this book while delving valiantly into
my past.
I took up the exercise of writing my autobiography for just one rea-
son: to escape my family’s long time nagging to record my life within
the pages of a book. Besides my own people, I have also been persist-
ently told to document a memoir by my UAE national friends, espe-
cially the younger generation.
Not really the one to take myself seriously, I challenged the need for
such a memoir. My sons said, “For the sake of posterity, Dada.”
“Posterity,” I considered. “That’s too big a word for a small man
like me.”
“For your grandchildren,” they persisted, trying the emotional route.
“Haven’t I tired everyone enough with my stories of water being
carried on donkeys’ backs!”
I lived up to my reputation of not giving in to an argument too
easily. They, however, stuck to their logic and threw the final bait
to hook me. “For future generations to know what it took Thattai
Bhatias to get where they are . . . [I could already feel my resolve weak-
ening] . . . and, to tell them what it will take to sustain themselves to-
morrow,” they finished smugly.
The key words – Thattai Bhatia – peeled away every layer of my re-
sistance; I was momentarily inundated by a maze of nostalgic images. I
succumbed. Rising to the challenge, the first thing I did was to get myself
a cell phone. Puzzled, my family wondered at the connection. I got their
unspoken message – Why would I need the gadget when I have always
condemned it as redundant? I gave them a look that said, “If I am going
xiv
to lose myself in memories, you might as well know where to find me.”
Not so smart I know, but it worked.
My sons scrambled to get me one, and my grandsons took great
pleasure in teaching me all about the SIM card. Excited over my
brush with a technology that I had until then disdained, I immedi-
ately stored my friends’ numbers to discuss the good old golden days
in Thatta. The elation, however, dimmed half way through the journey
and the cell phone lost its glamour. I do not know where it is now.
The past, indeed, draws you deeper and deeper into its recesses
telling you it is alive, pulsating with the same vigour, long after you
thought it was forgotten and put to rest. And so, it is with a great
sense of gratitude to my family and friends, and the entire Thattai
community that I begin to tell the tale of my life that began in Thatta
several summers ago.
But first, I must thank four people who have greatly impacted my
life: My mother Totabai, who taught me what spiritualism is; my
father Jethanand Lalchand Pancholia, who instilled in me the im-
portance of personal and professional honesty; my elder brother Par-
manand, who is the reason for what I am today, and the late Ruler of
Dubai, Sheikh Rashid bin Saeed Al Maktoum, who inspired me to
look beyond the immediate.
More recently, His Highness Sheikh Mohammed bin Rashid Al
Maktoum, the Vice-President and Prime Minister of the UAE, and
Ruler of Dubai, has been my source of inspiration. Although I am sev-
eral years older, I have much to learn from him. He amazes me with
his vision for Dubai and subsequently for the UAE.
For someone who has been here since 1942, I have watched Du-
bai grow, from its days of infancy. The coastal town that seemed
half-asleep when I first discovered it, is now a city that never sleeps.
A pearl-diving village that crawled from one day to another is today
a dynamic metropolis that ranks high in global economic perform-
ance. The credit for this transformation goes entirely to His High-
ness Sheikh Mohammed bin Rashid Al Maktoum, I salute the Ruling
Family’s vision and confidence, and wish them continued success.
I would also like to record my appreciation for all the young nation-
als, most of whom I have seen grow up, and assume positions of im-
mense responsibility either as heads of government-led organizations
or private conglomerates. It is indeed heartening to see them return to
xv
the country after equipping themselves with advanced academic learn-
ing abroad, and rising to the expectations of the UAE’s leadership with
a strong desire and dedication to take the country forward. In doing
so, they are leading by example for others to emulate, not just in this
country but across the world. In their trusted and capable hands, the
UAE will continue to make the impossible possible.
Finally, a word on this book; unlike other biographies, this book
does not pass any political judgement or espouse management phi-
losophies. I have only briefly touched upon my professional achieve-
ments. In other words, it is a modest compilation of simple thoughts,
simply said.

xvi
 People I Belong To
chapter 1

There is nothing that makes me more proud than calling myself an

Indian, a Sindhi and a Thattai Bhatia. I, therefore, cannot speak about
myself without a mention of the people I belong to.
The roots of Thattai Bhatias are embedded in Jaisalmer. Known
as Bhattis, they formed part of the Rajput ruling family. When the
Mughal invasion and the subsequent decline of the Rajputs forced
nearly 2,000 families to migrate from Jaisalmer, a large corpus of the
community moved towards the north of Punjab to Bhavalpur, Multan
and Kutch. A few others found a home in Thatta (Sindh) towards the
early fourteenth century.
Depending on the province they settled in, the Bhatias assumed
clannish titles such as Kutchi Bhatias, Sindhi Bhatias and Punjabi
Bhatias. The Sindhi Bhatias were further classified after the city they
lived in, such as Thattai, Hyderabadi, Roehri and Nasarpuri Bhatias.
The Bhatias’ decision to settle down in faraway Thatta had a specific
reason to it.
By merit of their long association with the Rajputs, they had im-
bibed virtues of valour and nobility, qualities that soon became synon-
ymous with the community. Impressed with their gallantry, the King
of Thatta sought their help to quell a rebellion in his fertile province
situated in Sindh across the River Indus. Accepting his invitation, the
Bhatias fought valiantly and succeeded in reclaiming the King’s land.
In return for their timely and courageous gesture, the Ruler invited
the community to make Thatta their home, 60 miles from Karachi.
As people that were once reputed for their glory on the battlefield, the
Thattais quickly settled into a peaceful pattern of life. However, more
change was in store.

1
 Descendants of the Yaduvansh lineage, the Bhatias were originally
devi pujaks (worshippers of Goddess Shakti). A providential meeting
in the sixteenth century with the spiritual leader Jagadguru Shri Valla-
bhacharya on the banks of River Indus was soon to impact their lives,
transforming their core spiritual belief. Shri Vallabhacharya is regard-
ed as one of the five main acharyas (akin to Prophets) of the Hindu
religion, alongside Shri Shankaracharya, Shri Ramanujacharya, Shri
Madhavacharya and Shri Nimbarkacharya. These acharyas have sig-
nificantly contributed to the revival of the Bhakti movement and
upbringing of the Hindu religion.
During his stay in Thatta, Shri Vallabhacharya’s spiritual dis-
courses from Srimad Bhagwad inspired the Thattais to adopt the
Pushtimarg philosophy. Shrinathji (incarnation of Lord Krishna)
became their principle deity, and Nathdwara, the place of pilgrim-
age. So devout were the Thattais towards their newly acquired faith
that they frequently invited the highly respected balaks (descendants
of Shri Vallabhacharya) to their hometown to gain spiritual knowl-
edge. They even regarded Thatta as their chhoti brij bhoomi (Lord
Krishna’s birthplace).
Shrinathji was evidently quite popular with other medieval devo-
tees as well. Historians have referred to the Gaudiya preachers who
founded Shrinathji temples in present-day Pakistan (in the city of
Dera Ghazi Khan). Shrinathji was even worshipped as far away as
Russia (in the lower Volga region) and other places on the Central
Asian trade routes.
The Pushtimargi sect of Hinduism has a realistic, more worldly and
practical view of life, and does not advocate renunciation for spiritu-
al growth. So, while devout Hindus of the Brahmin community de-
nounced travelling abroad as it involved the crossing of a water body,
the Thattai Bhatias had no such qualms and sought new horizons to
explore fresh business opportunities.
Trade with Arab lands began in the early eighteenth century, when
people from the Gulf visited the small port of Thatta to barter pearls,
fish, dates and other produce for lungis, hand-woven textiles, attars,
spices and foodstuff. History says that nearly three centuries ago, the
Thattai Bhatias were invited several times by the people in the Gulf to
join them in supporting the pearl-fishing industry.
2 people i belong to
As more and more men left Thatta to seek new opportunities in Ka-
rachi, Bahrain or the Trucial States in faraway Gulf, the town became
home primarily to the women and children of their families.
Apart from the Arab countries, the Bhatias also established trade
links with Baluchistan, Iran and Afghanistan. Some of the Bhatia sur-
names like Kandhari, Rustagi, Whabi clearly validate this fact. In their
new homeland, the Bhatias made a good living as pearl financiers. Of
the 300 Thattai families during my father’s time, nearly 100 had offic-
es or pedis in Mumbai, considered a mark of prosperity then. They also
acquired a reputation of being an upright and honest people. Known
as banias (merchants), the businessmen were highly trusted by the Ar-
abs as well as the British in the region.
The good times were however, short-lived. The Great Depression of
the 1930s ravaged the pearl market and prices dipped steeply. The si-
multaneous invention of cultured pearls in Japan, which were sold at
nearly 30 per cent of the price of natural pearls, sounded the death-
knell for the industry. In order to alleviate the effect, the Gulf coun-
tries banned the import of cultured pearls. However, as this was not
the case in Mumbai where the natural pearls were primarily marketed,
the ban did little to save the situation. Consequently, most of the Bha-
tias suffered heavy losses.
My father had a logical explanation to this reversal of fortunes. He
believed the pearl business floundered as it flouted a core tenet of Hin-
duism in killing a living creature – the oyster.
Desperate to find alternative avenues of trade to sustain themselves,
several Thattai Bhatia merchants began importing food supplies such as
rice, wheat and wheat flour, as well as sugar, lentils, tea and spices in-
cluding cardamom and pepper. Soon, they commanded a virtual mo-
nopoly as food suppliers to the region. Textiles too were brought in from
India, China and Japan to cater to the retail and wholesale market.
Just as these businesses were flourishing, there was once again a
reversal in fortunes with the outbreak of the World War II in 1939.
Food trade became a risky venture with shipping lines coming un-
der threat from submarines and air attacks. This led to the rationing
of food and textiles in the Trucial States and surrounding areas. Soon
after, the partition of India followed. In 1947, the loss of Thatta to Pa-
kistan brought several Sindhis from Gwadar into the Gulf. The That-
3

My house in Thatta, some 50 years after I left for the Gulf.
worship of ‘Thakurji’ included raag (traditional music); bhog (pure
vegetarian food offerings, excluding onion, garlic, cabbage and root
vegetables); vastra and shringar (dressing up the deity with beautiful
clothes, headwear and jewellery adornments). These dictums were pre-
scribed some 500 years ago by Goswami Shri Vitthalnathji also called
Gusainji (Shri Vallabhacharya’s younger son).
Twice a month, my mother observed the ekgyarah or ekadashi fast
on the eleventh day of the new moon.
In general, the lunar year has 12 months and approximately 354
days, thus making it shorter by about 11 days than the solar year.
However, the lunar calendar accounts for this difference by adding an
extra lunar month about once every two-and-a-half years. This extra
lunar month is known as the adhikmas (adhik = extra; mas = month).
The concept of the adhikmas is similar to the Blue Moon in the West,
which occurs almost with the same frequency.
Throughout this extra month, my mother would eat just once a
day. While travelling by train, she would forgo her food as the shastras
wouldn’t allow it. I remember during one of her journeys back home
after a pilgrimage to Champaran (the birthplace of Shri Vallabhach-
arya) she was so frail that her breath was hardly perceptible; she hadn’t
had even water throughout the two-day journey. Her disciplined life-
6 growing up in thatta
style influenced me a great deal and dictates my conduct even today.
The rearing and service of cows was another distinct trait in That-
tai Vaishnav households that was associated with the worship of Lord
Krishna. I use the word ‘service’ in line with the Pushtimargi tenet that
gives the cow a revered status of gau matha (mother). In our home, we
had nearly 60 cows and 20 buffaloes, thanks to my father’s unflagging
spirit of gau seva (gau = cow; seva = service).
In every Thattai Bhatia family, the cows would be milked at six in
the morning by gwalas (cowherds), after which they were allowed to
graze on the outskirts of Thatta. When the cows were away, it was our
task to clean the sheds and prepare a fresh supply of fodder in time for
their return at five in the evening. Never wanting for milk or butter,
the excess dairy produce would be sent to a relative in Karachi.
During the monsoon season in the month of Shravan, the cows
were shifted to Makli Takli (Makli Hill) and placed under the watch-
ful eye of the gwalas. This practice was followed to allow the cows to
feed on fresh grass that sprouted on the hills during the rainy season.
This also meant that twice a day, morning and evening, we had to
walk to Makli Takli to deliver wheat husks, barley and bajra (millet) as
fodder for the cows and return with milk supplies. Sometimes, we car-
ried back over 10 litres of milk on our shoulders.
The gwalas would also take temporary care of the young calves or
cows that could not lactate and nurture them until they were ready to
produce milk. These cowherds periodically visited us in Thatta to up-
date us on the well being of their herds and collect a salary of Re 1 or
Rs 2 per cow each month.
With the mention of cows an amusing incident comes to mind.
Soon after I got married, I lost my wedding ring (my father-in-law’s
gift) and could not find it for nearly a year. Purely by chance one day,
I saw it lying at the bottom of a pit that contained leftover meals of
the cows. I still wonder how it got there – one of the cows must have
probably chewed it up along with the fodder, and not finding it palat-
able, spat it out! I was so relieved that day, it didn’t really matter how
it got there.
Simple joys from simple things – that was our way of life then. I
remember when our elders took leave of us while returning to the
Gulf, they would give away small amounts of money to the children
as a blessing. I possessively safeguarded my share of half-a-rupee for
7
a long time. To me, it meant a lot, considering our monthly grocer-
ies amounted to Rs 12–20 per month, and my father sent Rs 100 as
monthly expenses for a household of 12.
When the men returned to Thatta from the Gulf, following each
pearling season, they spent about six months with their families. Dur-
ing those months, they led a routine life that included morning walks
and a game of cards after lunch. Others would get together for a little
dash of snuff and exchange news on their business dealings. An early
dinner at around seven in the evening, and the men dressed in their
best clothes would walk down to the market for paan (stuffed betel
leaf ) as an after-dinner indulgence. Often we hovered around them,
keen to know what they were talking about. But the men had their
own way of keeping us out of their talk and converse in Arabic to con-
found us.
Being staunch vegetarians, our food habits were simple. During
meal times, the entire family would sit on the floor cross-legged.
Food would be served on plantain or patal (almond) leaves. These
were also used to make dona that served the purpose of cups. On
special family and festive occasions, silver utensils were used. Steel
vessels, the commonly used kitchenware these days, were completely
unknown then. Dal-bhat curry (a thin soup made of lentils, rice and
spices) was our favourite dish that was cooked once a week or when
we had special guests. Eating out at restaurants was hardly common-
place then.
Memories of the delicious rotis that my mother rolled out brings
to my mind another distinctive element of Thatta – the chakkis or
machines used for grinding wheat, sesame, and mustard seeds. In
those days, the chakkis were huge, and camels were used to turn them
around. Sometimes on our way back from the school, we bought fresh
atta (flour) directly from the chakki, and coaxed our mother to prepare
fresh and tasty bajra rotis. We could buy nearly three quarters of a kilo
of flour for less than three paisa. I have yet to taste such fresh atta rotis
since my Thatta days.
The ritual of vegetable and fruit shopping was another essentially
male responsibility. As a child, I remember visiting the market with
my uncle, Assanmal Lalchand, during weekends and vacations.
Adha, as he was known, had two pastimes when he retired from
work. One, to sit by the window and read Tulsi Ramayana so loud
8 growing up in thatta
that even passers-by would stop to listen. His other pastime was to
buy our family’s daily quota of fruits and vegetables. Often, even our
neighbours entrusted him with similar tasks. Adha was, therefore, very
popular with the hawkers because he always purchased huge consign-
ments every day. Buying mangoes was the most enjoyable part of this
shopping trip. During the season, every mango seller would call out to
him and offer all types of mangoes to taste.
Back then, about 100 mangoes cost between Rs 1.25 to 2.50, and
the shopkeeper would throw in about 10 to 15 extra mangoes to earn
my uncle’s favour. As an eight-year old, I would specially feast on the
lot from the Metharam Gardens on the excuse of sampling them –
enough motivation not to relinquish my position as Adha’s faithful
‘shopping companion’ for a long time.
Families that had no male members would use the service of wom-
en vendors, who delivered door-to-door the daily supply of fruits
and vegetables. When my uncle found it difficult to keep up with
his market rounds, we hired a woman for a salary of Rs 2 a month.
She would turn up every single day, early in the morning, with the
required supply.
The men of Thatta were quite conscious about their physical fit-
ness, and the akhadas fulfilled their need to keep in shape. Among my
brothers, I looked the frailest. Nurturing a secret ambition to look well
built and manly, I would spend an hour at the Khetpalpara akhada
every morning. Of course, my efforts were in vain and nothing came
out of my body-building efforts.
Once a year, all the akhadas would get together at a formal cere-
mony, when kushti, uth-baet and other contests would be conducted
and conclude with a grand prize distribution ceremony. During the
fortnightly kushti or malakhara challenge held in an open ground on
the outskirts of Thatta, people gathered in huge numbers to witness
half a dozen fighters rough it out in the middle. Some in the crowd
contributed a rupee or two, and the wrestlers earned almost Rs 30 a
day during these bouts.
Cricket was a favourite sport too. My elder brother Parmanand, was
a huge enthusiast of the game. Every Sunday he would play cricket
with his friends in our school grounds while we cheered as the loyal
audience. If lucky, one of us would be asked to collect the ball when it
trickled off the ground – a task we considered a huge privilege.
9
 With the men seeking their own company, the women of Thatta wife, Jamnabai, who passed away at the age of 92. From what they
would be busy either visiting temples or meeting relatives. However, had heard of their husbands’ experiences, it was ingrained in their
a significant part of their time would be spent in the kitchen, cooking minds that Dubai was an inconvenient place to live in, hence their
elaborate meals for one occasion or the other or attending to house- reluctance to visit us here. If only they could see how the place has
hold chores. Besides, they practised such rigid codes of cleanliness that transformed today.
merely watching their habits was draining enough. For instance, when I have often been asked if I would like to go back to Thatta to see
the daughters-in-law helped in the cooking, they were not allowed to what it is like now, and I reply ‘no’. I believe it is good to allow certain
get anywhere close to their own children. And, if they happened to memories to remain as memories. Let’s also not forget the fact that a
touch them by chance, they were ordered back to the bathroom for visit to Thatta is difficult, so stringent are the visa regulations. And,
another shower before being allowed into the kitchen again. That’s those who did manage to visit have been hugely disappointed saying
how far they went to ensure hygiene in cooking. the place is in decline.
One of the few occasions that the men and women interacted with Possessive as I am of the past, I’d rather remember Thatta as it used
each other was when the married ladies in our family, such as my sis- to be when it was my home.
ters, were invited home along with their husbands and children on
purnima (full moon) and dwadesi (twelfth day after the new moon and
full moon). Likewise, my in-laws would invite the daughters and their
spouses and children on such days. These three monthly get-togethers
served as the high point of our family life.
Even after we settled in Mumbai, the practice continued when all
my four sisters would visit us with their families to spend the day.
As we did not have cooks or servants then, this meant the ladies of
the house were tied to the stove all day, while we were expected to
play host to our brothers-in-law and keep them in good spirits. I
thought the whole routine was quite a waste of time. If an entire day
was spent thus, thrice every month, your tolerance is bound to be
severely taxed. Thankfully, with time not as much a luxury any more,
the practice is far less frequent now and the invitations are limited to
festive days only.
Having spent a major part of his life away from home, my father
returned to Thatta when all his five sons were well settled in the Gulf.
With no male member in the family, his presence was required more
at home and we convinced him to retire. In Thatta, he continued to
keep himself busy through his service of the cows. This was his rou-
tine even after moving to Mumbai during the partition of India; it
would be an understatement to say he was an epitome of devotion
until he breathed his last at the age of 75 in 1958.
My mother died ten years later, without visiting Dubai even once
during her entire lifetime. Neither did my elder brother Parmanand’s

10 growing up in thatta 11

Road Often Travelled
chapter 3
If there is any place where Islam has completely integrated local
traditions and produced a new blend of concepts, that should be in
Thatta, according to Ahmad Hassan Dani in his book, Thatta: Islamic
Architecture. I couldn’t agree with him more. It is generally believed
that Thatta was established during the Summa rule (1320–1520)
when its earlier capital of Samui was abandoned. Since then, its men-
tion has been frequently made by historians and geographers.
In his work, The Origin of Thatta, N. A. Baloch writes Thatta was
given the privilege of a nagar by virtue of its stature as the capital of a
principality, where the Ruler resided. He says, “To this day, the more
popular name for Thatta with the rural population of Sindh is Thatta
Nagar or simply Nagar.”
Thatta was regarded “the fond child of the Indus”, when the river
flowed to the west of the city and gifted it with water, gardens and
orchards. Perhaps that is how the town was named ‘Tatastha’ (on the
banks of a river).
To the trader and traveller of the West, Thatta was practically syn-
onymous with Sindh. In 1607, the East India Company instruct-
ed its agent to sail to ‘Laurie – a good harbour within two miles of
Nagor Tuttie – as great and as big as London’. In 1613, Capt. Paynton
described Thatta as one of the most celebrated markets of India. Alex-
ander Hamilton in 1699 said of Thatta:
Thatta is the emporium of the province, a very large and rich city. It
is three miles long, one-and-a-half-mile broad, and about 40 miles
from Larry bunder (Lahori). It has a large citadel at its west with the
capacity to lodge 50,000 men and horses.
12
So prosperous was Nagar Thatta that it was regarded one of the big-
gest business centres of India. The ancient city took great pride in the
fact that it had as many as 5,000 spindles to manufacture lungis and
shawls, mashroo and garbindoo that were exported to distant European
countries for its rich and elite people. In 1699, there were as many as
400 schools in Nagar Thatta.
The decline and decay of Thatta began in 1739, when the province
was ceded to Nadir Shah of Iran by the Mughal Emperor of Delhi.
Before leaving for Persia, Nadir Shah in his turn entrusted its adminis-
tration to Mian Nur Muhammad Kalhora, who abandoned Thatta to
its fate and shifted the capital to a small township of Khudabad. When
the mighty river Indus changed its course from Khudabad around
1768, the capital of Sindh was eventually shifted to Hyderabad. It was
only in 1843 that Thatta regained some of its former glories after the
British annexed Sindh, and new schools, a municipality, post office,
dispensary and a subordinate jail were established.
Among the several historical associations linked with it, Thatta is
believed to be the place where Alexander the Great rested his legions
after a long march, before heading back towards Persia.
Shah Jahan too shared fond memories of the place when he arrived
in Thatta after falling out with his father. During his stay, he frequent-
ed a particular masjid to offer his prayers. Later, when he became the
Shahenshah of Delhi, he remembered the solace that Thatta had giv-
en him, and built the Shah Jahan mosque in 1647 as an appreciative
gesture. Built by the same architect who created the Taj Mahal, it is
an intricate mosaic of blue and white tiles, housing 93 domes and 33
arches of varying dimensions.
Interestingly, I was not aware of the Shah Jahan mosque for a long
time and came upon it by chance. For a short period of time, rob-
bery was rampant in Thatta and we would form groups of eight to
maintain vigil at night. When it was my turn, I stumbled upon this
beautiful monument that amazed me with its grandeur and majestic
brilliance. It was only when I questioned the others that I realized its
historical significance.
If Shah Jahan was mesmerized with Thatta, Humayun owed his
safety to the city. Exiled from India by the Afghan ruler Sher Shah
Suri, Humayun sought refuge in Iran, and briefly halted at Thatta on
his way back to India.
road often travelled 13