" I have told my story so that those who never saw it (Hyderabad) then would have an idea of what it was in its heyday (pre-1948). It had a culture that no longer exists - it belongs to a time gone by (P.282)."However, this book is beyond a 'nostalgic romance of the Hyderabad that was'. It is a recollection of Khan's life experiences spanning three continents and six countries and the kindness of people that makes the world a better place. Only someone like Bilquis Jehan Khan would find that despite her journey across the world -- the world is small and home is built with love and friendship, surpassing geographical boundaries.
As I read Khan's recollections of Hyderabad between 1930 and 1948, before her journey to Pakistan to join her husband, what impressed me most was the cosmopolitan nature of the city.
Perhaps, only in Hyderabad would a Muslim wedding trousseau consist of silk embroidered sarees, the staple of Parsi ladies (P.113); Only in Hyderabad would the festival of colors Holi, during the month of Basant, be celebrated with equal fervour by Hindus and Muslims (P.33) or a Christian priest would bring his troubled parishioners for healing blessings from a Sufi master (P.148). Further, Khan describes in detail the large number of Arab and African guards who served in the armed contingent of the Nizam and Muslim noblemen in the city, their special cuisine and customs (P.25). Khan herself, is married to Nasir, the son of a Muslim nobleman and a Scottish lady.
Khan describes the administration of jagirs (lands) by the Muslim noblemen. She writes:
"Our tenants who lived on the jagir were Hindus of the untouchable caste. My grandparents treated them well and looked after their interests. The Hindu servants were paid the same wages as the Muslim servants in Nasir Manzil (P.50)."Khan's recollections are heartening especially in the present days of religious polarisation in Hyderabad and elsewhere in the country.
Khan notes a peculiar sense of camaraderie between the Muslim nobility and the Hindu employees.
Khan recollects one such incident between her grandmother and Malleyya, the chowkidar who happened to report to his duty, quite drunk. When asked "How would you answer to God on the Day of Judgment?", Malleyya, emboldened by his inebriated state replies, referring to the disparity in their class status: "Pasha, there are going to be so many more important people standing before God in front of me that He will not see little me to ask, 'Malleyya, why have you been drinking so much?' (P.52)."I haven't read much about the experiences of Hyderabadis after the military action and accession of Hyderabad state to India in 1948. Khan notes the suddenness of the political changes and how unprepared the Nizam and his subjects were to meet the nascent democratic India. She shares her own feelings of being uprooted from her homeland Hyderabad.
In her words:
"We did not feel the immediate effects of the Partition at first, but in September 1948, the first year of my marriage, the Indian army marched in and took over the state (p.164)."Her husband, who was an employee of the Nizam State railways had to find a job elsewhere. When he was posted to Karachi, Pakistan Bilquis Jehan Khan recounts: "My whole world collapsed. Hyderabad was my life and soul. How could I leave India and live in Pakistan? ... I decided to go to Karachi. I could foresee many trials and difficulties, but I believed that with my husband by my side I could bear anything (P.165)."
Just when Bilquis Jehan Khan and her family seem to find themselves at home in a new country, they get entangled in a political manhunt by the Prime Minister Zulfikar Ali Bhutto. Her son-in-law was arrested by the government on charges of conspiring with the leaders of Baloch who were rebelling against the government. For two long years, the family did not have much information about his whereabouts until his release in 1977, after the military coup by General Zia Ul Haq (P.243).
A Song of Hyderabad is a personal memoir, a political-social commentary in one. This book imparts a profound message to the reader: and that is to live with grace and dignity in the face of troubles.
I have always found peace at the many Sufi shrines in Hyderabad. Khan writes about her father who renounced his "surrender to the worldly life" at the age of 39 and became a Pir (spiritual master). The following lines about what it means to be a Sufi, struck me the most:
"The goal of the Sufi is to 'see the face of the Beloved (God)'. Among Sufis the basic means to that end is self-control. Meditation, the invoking of God's name, and self-discipline are important parts of Sufi practice, but unlike Hindus and Buddhists whose ascetism can take extreme forms, Muslims are forbidden to totally renounce this world. They believe that the greater challenge is to follow a spiritual path while living in the world and whilst being surrounded by its many temptations. A Sufi should renounce himself, not others (pp 143-144)."
I will cherish this book and its message.
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