This seems to be a photograph from her early days of life. One can notice age & her aquiline typical Punjabi nose (a physiognomic feature of Arain females) in this portrait. It was small black & white photograph. In later years when Amma passed away, I got it converted by a studio in a colored portrait.
Urdu Columnist & Author, Shams Jilani memoirs connected with his mother, & moments from pre- Partitioned India.
Memories & moments spent with parents became an integral part of your life. When they left the material world, the same moments became a beacon for you. When the context is connected with special socio-political events such as Indian partition where hundred of human souls were uprooted from their hometowns, these moments became a bridge with bygone past. Noted Urdu columnist, & author, Shams Jilani shared memories of his mother with these precious portraits from his personal collection. During the days of lock down, he spoke with me from Richmond City, British Columbia that a place his residence from last three decades.
I asked, from paternal side you carried a great literary legacy from the days of your great-grandfather up to your late father. But today I am eager to know about your mother.
The conversation of past pushed eighty nine years old author back to his childhood days in India. Clearing the hoarseness of his voice & overcoming his emotions, he said, did you know that three females has a great role in my life. Today what I had achieved in my entire life from childhood days is due to their support, mentoring & guidance. First one was my maternal grandmother, Hamidun Nisa Begum, then my mother, Fayyazi Begum & then my better half, Quraisha Begum. All three of them has left for heavenly abode. Coincidentally, both my wife & my mother were from a small village, Khamaria.
Its a small village located 11 km south of district headquarters of Pilibhit. This district is tucked on Indo-Nepal border in Tarai plains of Himalayas. You know I had written a biographical account (Seerah) of Prophets, Ahlul Bait, & Rashidun Caliphs. This interest was inculcated by my mother & maternal grandmother (Nani). I still remember bed time Islamic stories interwoven with story telling style by my nani when we spends our vacations at village Khamaria. These childhood stories created a quest for exploring more on these subjects that later concluded as a books. The moral teachings embedded with this formative style learning always remained with me. My mother came from middle class orthodox family of Muslim zamindars. She was born in 1912 & received all her education in a traditional manner. In those days, it was rare from Muslim middle class from rural background to send the females for formal education. As you know my father, uncle, & their cousins were send to Aligarh University & one of them even to England but unfortunately this was not a case for females. She took the lesson of Quran, Arabic & Urdu from her mother. The grand village style haveli of Nana also hosted his Sufi master, Sayyad Meharban Ali Shah who belonged to far off land of Pashtuns & each year visited our district. He was affiliated with Nashbandi Mujaddidi order & his Sufi master was the famous Shahji Mian of Pilibhit who passed away in 1907. It was here in his company I received some most worthy spiritual lessons of my life as four years old kid. The learning from Nani & mother continued in all these days. In 1950 at the age of 19 years, I left for Kishore Ganj (East Pakistan) with my parents leaving behind my Nani. As our district witnessed riots so entire family decided to migrate. In those days, the passport was not required for traveling to East Pakistan. In 1952, I again visited hometown, I got married during this visit & parents stayed back in Pilibhit. My destiny took to me to Karachi in 1954 from East Pakistan. Now at age of twenty, I was away from my entire family. For reading more on this journey & story of his ancestors, please read this article.
Somehow during late 1954, the reunion started in phases. With one year old son, she traveled with her brother, Maqbool Ahmad. Then my mother & nani came in 1956. Finally, the last one was father who joined us in 1958. The village Khamaria of my childhood was divided in two quarters. The more spacious & well build quarter was occupied by middle class Arain Zamindars who were relatives as a member of an extended family of Sheikh Jaan Mohammad who migrated from Punjab in late 18th century. The Baithaks of their old homes in this quarter were place of intellectual discussions on diverse titles that varied from religion & poetry to politics. It was in this background my mother was raised by Hamidun Nisa Begum & her father, Sheikh Fida Hussain. The another quarter of the village was occupied by other communities who resided in the village as cultivators & peasants. This quarter was mainly mud homes lined by thatched roof but they maintained cordial bonds with the residents of another section.
Then he started to describe the portraits of his mother & intervened with a query, Can you find one similarity in all these three pictures. I gently replied, its your resemblance with face of your mother. He replied, yes off course but I am focusing of something else. Can you able to see a small nose pin. She always used to wear this nose pin as I remember from my childhood days to her departure from this world. This was a photograph pasted on her official traveling passport when she came from India in 1954. In second portrait where you can find me standing with mother & my eldest son, Shahid who left this world in 1959. As I could remember this was taken in 1958.
About third one I exactly don’t remember the year. It seems to be a photograph from her early days of life. One can notice age & her aquiline typical Punjabi nose (a physiognomic feature of Arain females) in this portrait. It was a small black & white photograph. In later years when Amma passed away, I got it converted in a colored portrait. You can notice the same simple nose pin adored her face as I told you before. By the time when we shifted to Canada from Pakistan, the original portrait was damaged by termites but fortunately a digital copy survived.
In 1957, my Nani passed away & her grave is located in graveyard of PCS, Karachi. In year 159, my eldest son, Shahid met a fatal accident at the age of six while crossing a road to take a school van. After leaving his hometown in India, my father lived for three years, & in 1961, he left this world. A year later, in 1962, mother left us & was buried at Mirpur Khaas, Sindh, Pakistan, a place far away from her ancestral village Khamaria in Pilibhit, Uttarpradesh. I still remember that on the last night when she was unwell & I was sitting beside her, she said with gentle kindness by concealing her pain, my dear son, please go & take some rest. You will get tired if you will awake whole night by sitting beside me. She was survived by four daughters & three sons.
Now only memories had left in all these decades. We visited India ten times after Amma & Nani passed away. My last visit to India was with entire family in 2012. Every time we used to visit the home of Nani & Amma that was connected with my childhood days. Stories of Nani reverberated my ears whenever I visited those landscapes in Pilibhit. Last year I got the news that the house where my mother was born has been left abandoned by our cousins as their extended families has shifted to city. I was lucky enough to have a chance to visit my home land from Pakistan & then from Canada also. Unfortunately, Nani & Amma didn’t able to go back after they shifted to Pakistan. This is how time flies, & people who experienced multiple migrations cling their memories of bygone days. Adding two verse of short Urdu poetry written by Shams Jilani for mother. Meri Maan Jannat Nashin Jannat Makan Sabr ka paikar thin aur azmat ka nishan Zindigi bhar wo rahin sab par shafeeq Marte dam mamta hi thi rukh par ayyan
My mother sits in heaven & dwells in heaven She was portrait of patience, & sign of greatness For entire life she remained kind to everyone Motherly reflection predominated her face during time of death
The last two essays explored Guru Nanak in poetry of legendary Urdu Scholars along with the literary review of Gita in Urdu & Persian from days of Faizi up to recent publication from India & Pakistan.
A readers Review: But You Don’t Look Like A Muslim
Chaman me ikhtilat-e-rang-o-bu se baat banti nahi Hum hi hum hain to kya hum hain tum hi tum ho to kya tum ho
It is the intermingling of the color & fragrances that makes a garden If there is only us there can be no us & there can be no you if there is only you.(Author’s translation)
But you don’t look like a Muslim, authored by Dr. Rakhshanda Jalil & published by Harper Collins, India in May 2019. This book is a collection of forty essays divided in four contextual sections or themes. The essays covered author’s memoirs, anecdotes, critical reflections & reviews on Urdu literature. Before the text commence you will find a contextual verse of Sailani with dedication note of the work by author to her late father, Dr. Abdul Jalil Sahab. The section “the politics of identities” started with the journey of her late father from the mufassil town of Tarai plains of Himalayas to Delhi in the backdrop of partition politics & demographic shift.
Moving from the collective memoirs focused on the identities, the book moved to the cultural essays, exploring the lesser known facets of Urdu from the days of Khusru to the recent past of golden days when “Jay Siya Ram” was a common greetings in a practicing Muslims. The mosaics of literature concluded on the essay on the facets of unfortunate event i.e., partition in Urdu. Here the narratives of Batwara vs Azadi were explored. The last theme “Rubric of Religion” composed of essays starting from Chand Raat, Muharram, Shabe Qadr to Janmashtami, Holi, Bada Din, & Diwali. The last two essays explored Guru Nanak in poetry of legendary Urdu Scholars along with the literary review of Gita in Urdu & Persian from days of Faizi up to recent publication from India & Pakistan. Collecting a diverse essays in one manuscript with such a contextual title define the sociocultural history of Indian Muslims. The separate themes connected with each other by key word of “Identity” with blend of Urdu poetry & its translations is a reflection of authors long writing journey as a foremost literary historians. In the days when we find the hate mongering is used as a tool for the majoritarian regime to assert the power, the book explores in depth the rich flavors of Urdu poetry centered around Krishna & Ram as an Imame Hind.
Maslak-i-ishq hai parastish-i-husn Hum nahin jaante aazab-o-sawaab
The identity of Indian Muslims that was evolved as an outcome of centuries old syncretic fusion & cultural exchanges has been central to the manuscript. On the other hand when neo-puritan ideologies finds the larger space in elite Indian Muslims in recent days, the authors memoirs on Muharram, & Eid Maulid gave a rich overview to readers with its cultural context in Indian Subcontinent. The starting essay described the preference of her late father. Dr. Jalil, a young medical graduate from an esteemed medical school who had chosen India over the so called promised land of Muslims. His home town located in lap of Himalayas in fertile plains of Tarai faced bloody riots with changing demographic shift due to influx of Hindu immigrants from Punjab & Sindh. He preferred to raise his children’s in land of Nanak & Chishti instead of availing opportunities that were easily accessible to educated middle class Urdu speakers in the newly created state on line of religions.
Biswin Sadi Memoirs, growing up in Delhi during the 1960s & 70s, authored by Jamil Urfi & published by Cinnamon teal. A must-read account for all those who want to recollect the lost time of Indian capital along with a few small cities of Uttarpradesh. The author, Abdul Jamil Urfi was born in 1960 at Aligarh as the eldest child of Dr. Abdul Jalil & Mrs. Mehajabeen Jalil. When he reached the age of seven, his family was relocated to Delhi (1967) in the upper-middle-class township of East Nizamuddin. In those days the locality was widely inhabited by the immigrant Punjabi community who came from Pakistan following the partition.
From the founder of the famous Urdu magazine “Biswin Sadi” Khustar Girami up to Andrews family, he provides a detailed description of the sociocultural dynamics of his diverse neighborhood. The narratives give insights on communal harmony , tolerance & cultural vibrancy of Nizamuddin East. A full chapter recollects authors nostalgia of the festivities celebrations, nikah ceremony of his sisters toy dolls, bhole bisre geet & ever popular BBC Urdu broadcasting.
The Urdu speakers are still sensitive with the Sheen Qaaf of language. The author has explained the feelings of Sheen Qaaf with hilarious real-life examples. While working in middle eastern country, I observed antipathy among Pakistani Punjabi colleagues against Urdu speaking community. One of the reasons might be linguistic chauvinism asserted by elite Urdu speaking bureaucrats during founding years.
The part of the book discussed the ancestral accounts of his family focusing on fine biographical details of late Prof. Ale Ahmad Suroor, a literary Urdu legend of modern ages & his late father Dr. Abdul Jalil. The chapter convented education reflects an upper-middle-class educational stratification that still echoes in our North Indian social fabric. In the early nineties, I would recall, the Minto- Circle (AMU) was filled by students from diverse North Indian schools in a race for availing internal quota of University. The big cities Anglo-Indian students tried to assert superiority over the public school while the poor chaps like me coming from small towns & cities convents filled the bottom of strata. While in the west, a major transformation happened in educational models in the last half-century. The educated middle-class mindset still affiliates success with certain so-called esteemed professions measuring it with yards of ranks & quantification of marks. The author gave a clear articulation of this mindset connecting it with his real-life accounts, precisely the notion of imposing career selection by father.
One of my ex Canadian colleague who was born as the son of Canadian minister had chosen physiotherapy as a profession in the early seventies. His British wife who was working as a nurse in Riyadh from the last twenty years was the daughter of Medical Professor & consultant of Pathology. Even forty years later, no one from a family of privilege medical fraternity in our stratified society would able to accept their children in these roles. Such discriminative mindset has evolved with our robust colonial education system & layered social orders. From the last two years, I saw twitter handle with name “90s kid” catching nostalgia by sharing of past ads, popular desi comics, Ghulam Ali Ghazals, & Jaspal Bhatti shows. Sometimes it catches lost days of Doordarshan.
Born at the end of the seventies, I could say that not much has changed then in eighties & nineties except the vanishing landscape of Urdu world. In the early 90s, two of my friends were disqualified in mintocircle entrance exam at AMU, Aligarh as they were not able to pass in elementary Urdu. The small cities convent school in those days don’t have Urdu as the third language. In early childhood, I saw old Madhoramji (The owner of city’s oldest Kirana shop at Pilibhit ) attired in Nehru topi, kurta & dhoti writing his customer’s orders in perfect Urdu. It was the biggest surprise for me at that tender age when in school, it was considered a Quranic language. Madhoram Ji passed in 2001 at the age of ninety-four & now his grandson sits on the same mat writing memos in Devanagari script.
Like other places, the author’s description of Pilibhit as one of the Mufassil towns has also been changed with time. The beautiful gateways of Drummond Ganj became ruins in the last forty years. The ornamental beauty of Bareilly Darwaza that existed much closer to his ancestors home has lost long ago. The naked lakhori bricks of Darwaza devoid of plaster are waiting for their sad demise. The much-revered Shahji Miyan was pir of my mother’s grandfather, Sheikh Haji Nisar Ahmad. A boorish middle-class village zamindar who paid a humble visit on every Thursday to his pir in the late 19th century when carts & horses covered countryside distances. Almost 125 yrs later many of his fourth & fifth generation descendants are in Karachi, Toronto, & other South Asian hubs of USA & Canada. During childhood Ammi proudly told us, it was a blessing of saint who once said, Nisar Ahamd “teri naslen puri duniya me phailengi”. Then I used to asked her : “what about those descendants who were struggling with poverty in village life after the abolition of zamindari”.
So Aligarh was Alma mater of mine & my father both. I stayed their for seventeen year & also listened stories from Abbu during childhood days. Just yesterday Abbu told me that in those days Shibli road was also residence of Prof. Mukhtar Uddin Arzu (Arabic), Rashid Ahmad Siddiqui & his provost Prof. Aulad Ahamd Siddiqui in addition to Prof. Ale Ahmad Suroor. The authors eloquently written passages of by gone days connecting it with global political changes, usage of verbatim Urdu words, sandwiching of Bollywood accounts & poetic verses added a rigor to manuscript. A nicely written memoir touching multiple dimensions of a upper middle class Muslim boy who was privileged to be a grandson of literary parents & grandparents. In many ways, the account will fill you with nostalgia of by gone days that most of my generation had heard from our parents. As an educator himself he gave a critical & valuable insights that can be seen in many sections such as convented education & rites of passage.
The passages of bygone days connected with global political changes, usage of verbatim Urdu words, sandwiching of Bollywood accounts & poetic verses added rigor to the memoir. A nicely written memoir of an upper-middle-class Muslim boy who was privileged to be a grandson of literary parents & grandparents. In many ways, the account will fill you with the nostalgia of bygone days that most of my generation had heard from our parents. As an educator himself, he gave a critical & valuable insight that can be seen in many sections such as convented education & rites of passage.
A Karachiwalla’s connection with his ancestral hometown Pilibhit in Uttarpradesh.
Pics & Memoir by Mian Tauseef Ahmad, compiled by Rehan Asad
Mian Tauseef, a seventy- two years old retired squadron leader of Pakistan Air force social media shares consisted of a larger chunk of Indian history, culture, poetry, & Bollywood. His profile introduced him ” Squadron leader (R) Mian Tauseef Ahmad, b 20 Oct 1947, Arain settled in Karachi came from Pilibhit, Rohilkhand, UP“. He was born two months five days after the 15 August 1947 when the Indian subcontinent gained independence from British rule. His birthplace Pilibhit was located on the fringes of Western Uttar Pradesh close to the Indo-Nepal border. His ancestors belonged to the “Arain tribe” of eastern Punjab who migrated to Rohilkhand in the late 18th century. It was famines & political unrest caused by Bhatti Rajputs that forced a small part of the tribe from Punjab to relocate in Terai plains of Himalayas. By the time of partition, this small Punjabi diaspora of approximately around ten thousand was distributed in eighty villages of Pilibhit, Bareilly & Nainital districts of United Provinces. As an agrarian tribe, they were stratified as cultivators (Kisans), middle-class landowners (Zamindars) & few of the elite landlords (Rich Zamindars). With Indian partition, almost half of the youngsters moved to the newly created Pakistan & mainly settled in Urdu speaking cities of Sindh with few families in Punjab & NWFP. His father Mian Muhammad Tauseef was born in July 1922 in village Dheram, District Pilibhit & mother Qayum Al Nisa Begum was born in village Karghaina, District Pilibhit in October 1928. A British army recruit Mian Tufail who also took part in WW II moved with his family members from Pilibhit to Lahore in December 1947.
In his reflective account he shares a biographical account of his late father Mian Tufail Ahmad, ancestral connections with Pilibhit in India, story of their migration to Pakistan, his struggle, education & upbringing among the diverse cultures of Punjab & North West frontier as an Urdu speaker with roots from small fringe town of United Provinces.
Mian Tauseef Ahmad wrote: My late father Mr. Tufail Ahmad was from a kissan (small farmers) family of Arain tribe in the Village Dheram, Amaria Block, Pilibhit located in Uttar Pradesh, India. Before the abolition of Zamindari in 1952, our small village was under the zamindari of one Hindu Zamindar. I am told that his representative would visit the village twice a year just to collect Malia (the government tax). After 15 August 1947, it came under All India Congress Government and by 1951 all Zamindaris were abolished and the land belonged to the farmers. The farming land in Uttar Pradesh was measured in Bighas. My grandfather late Mr. Barkat Ali owned a hundred bighas of land. Now the official record of farming is kept in Hectares and one Hectare is equal to 20 kanals. There are almost 80 villages of Arians in District Pilibhit, Bareilly & adjoining Nainital District. The majority of these Arains are called Sirsawal Arains because of their affiliation from Sirsa (Now in Haryana) from where they migrated in 1783 AD.
My late father was first in his small village to join the Primary School. It was located in Madhopur, a village that was 6 kms away from our ancestral home. He passed his class V in 1932. He completed his middle from Government School of a small town Jahanabad, District Pilibhit. It was due to an incident during a football match at Government High School Jahanabad of District Pilibhit where some students surely including my late father misbehaved with the referee. As a result, they were expelled from admission & barred to be admitted to any school of Bareilly division. So he joined Islamia High School Muzaffar Nagar & completed his matriculation from the same school. Coming from Urdu medium background & once expelled from middle school delayed his matriculation. He matriculated at the age of twenty in 1942. He also motivated his younger brother Shafique Ahamd for the studies who is now a retired Professor & settled in Florida USA. After completing Matriculation in 1942 AD from Islamia High School Muzaffar Nagar in First Division, he was misled by a recruiting agent and joined the British Army as a Havaldar Clerk. His Corp was ASC. Later he repented it because there was no release from the Army during WW II. He was one of the earliest recruits in Defence forces from his locality as there was no tradition of joining Defence Forces among Arains who was prospered by the landholdings. In 1942 when he was under training at Bareilly his marriage was arranged. He got a single day leave & his Sikh Company Commander gave him an optional leave on the birthday of Baba Gru Nanak Dev. Later on, I used to cut jokes with him by saying that this might be the reason we have certain habits resembling the Sikhs. He got four transfers for three and a half years. Trained at Bareilly, then first posting at Karachi Cantt, second at Ferozpur and fourth at Lucknow. On 6th August 1945, the USA detonated the first nuclear bomb on Hiroshima and second on Nagasaki on 9th August that ended WWII. Now the release from the Army became open. My late father immediately applied for release and it was granted. Based on his education, he was rehabilitated as Assistant Welfare Officer and placed at Lucknow.
For the first time, he took his family that includes my mother & my elder sister late Fatima who was born in January 1945 to Lucknow. I was yet not born. In the mid of 1947, the situation started to deteriorate particularly in the cities so my parents came back to their village. Before leaving Lucknow my late father bought edible Attar from Ms. Iqtida Khan Muqtada Khan so from August to December 1947 he sold it to the local sweetmeats marts. This was the time when I was born on 20th October 1947. My father waited till the mid of December and finally decided to migrate to Pakistan, a dreamland for the Indian Muslims. My parents with two children reached Lahore on 25 th December 1947. My father reported to his ex-unit at Jehlum. He was converted to Upper Division Clerck & send to serve the industries department at Lyallpur now Faisalabad. We were allotted temporarily a house in Mohalla Khalsa College. We remained at Lyallpur for five years. My father used to go to a place Mae Di Jhuggi to his office. Although I was a child of four years I still remember the road leading to Kohinoor Textiles Mills and the bullock carts carrying cotton. I also remember that the majority of residents in our Mohalla were Punjabi speakers and my father told me that they were Punjabi speaking Pathans from Amritsar. There was no mosque in the vicinity so all the people made efforts to make a masjid. My father occupied an Ahata, kept four buffaloes in it and with the help of a servant used to maintain them and also sold milk to the local Halwais.
I don’t remember personally but as I was told that in 1949 my late father picked up a quarrel with a Pesh Imam (Cleric who performs prayers in a mosque) who allegedly indulging in some unwanted activities and my late father stabbed and injured him seriously right in the masjid during Isha prayers. The local police arrived and arrested him. My late mother used to tell us that this was one of the toughest days of her life. It was the time when my younger sister was about to be born. It was after 15 days his release was arranged and the Punjabi friends helped him a lot. He had to approach the family of the injured person and offered him a reasonably good amount by selling the four buffalos. This was the time when my younger sister was born and she was named Masooda which means a person of good luck.
Now my late father was fed up petty local politics. He returned to the self-studies. He did Adeeb Fazil, then Bachelors in English language and went to Sialkot to got admission in MA (English) in Murray College Sialkot. During the evenings, he used to serve as Accountant in a surgical instruments firm. He completed his MA Previous from Murray’s College. I vividly remember first we used to live in Sialkot Saddar and then in Ghazipur/Talwara. Ghazipur was small village of Jutts (a sturdy & respectable caste in Punjabis). It was pretty difficult to pull on economically with the family of six members and he continued with his MA classes so in MA Final he moved to Rawalpindi where we had some well-established relatives from Pilibhit connection. One of them Mian Faheem ud Din was Deputy Military Accountant General & his brother In law Abdul Khaliq Jillani was Accounts & Audit Officer in Military Accounts. My father took admission in MA Final in Gordon College Rawalpindi. It was in January 1956 that my late father joined GHQ as Assistant Superintendent on basis of BA. Thus we started living in Tench Bhata a suburb of Rawalpindi. I remember the celebration of 23rd March 1956 when Pakistan was declared Republic. It was in May 1957 that my father took me for admission in class 6 he submitted an affidavit that I had not studied in a regular school so I was given a test in Urdu, Math and General Knowledge which I passed successfully. I studied in Cantonment Board High School Lalkurti Rawalpindi. The headmaster of the school, Mr. Ansari was very efficient gentleman. I studied in that school up to class eight. Some of the teachers I remember were science teacher Mr. Samiulla, Urdu teacher Mr. Sabir , English teacher. It is no more a village rather a suburb. As my father was serving in GH Q and we were allotted a JCO quarter in Victoria Barracks just opposite Convent School and very close to Lalkurti Rawalpindi. Then my father applied for the allotment of small property in exchange what was left in India and he was allotted five acres of fertile land and a house just in the beginnings of Bazar Garhi Daulat Zai part of big village Garhi Kapura Tehsil in District Mardan. The house was left by one Ram Singh but was occupied by some local family but it was the time when Martial Law was imposed by General Muhammad Ayoub Khan and things were moving very quickly. My father exerting the influence of GHQ got both his properties vacated. He himself got posted at Air Headquarters Peshawar and we started living in Garhi Kapura. It was in 1961 I was admitted in class eight in Government High School Garhi Kapura. I was the only Urdu Speaking student in the school and called “Panhguzeen” a Pashtun word meaning Refugee. I picked up Pashto very quickly. Our headmaster was Sir Fida Younas from the nearby village Galyara who was a towering personality in a small school. I studied in this school for two years and then my father decided to shift his family to Peshawar Saddar. A house was allotted right on the city saddar road near Green Hotel opposite General Post Office. The street was known as Donga Gali. I got admission to Government High School one of the best in Peshawar Cantonment. I passed my matriculation from there. Among our teachers, Mr. Husnain Naqvi was an outstanding personality. He was remembered as an iconic educator in Peshawar Saddar. I passed SSC in 1964 and my late father had a desire that I should become an agricultural scientist. I was taken to Agriculture College Peshawar for admission and after a short interview with the vice-principal Dr. Roghani I was admitted. The most interesting part of the interview, it was started in English and came to an end in Pashto. Dr. Roghani remarked that I spoke Pashto perfectly but Tauseef is not a common name among the Pashtuns. Dr. Shamsul Islam Ali Khan was the Principal of Agriculture College. United States government was kind to Pakistan & our Agriculture College of Peshawar was associated with Colorado State University. The majority of the faculty members hold Doctorates in various disciplines. Every student was given scholarship and the scholarship of the boarders was double than the day scholars. It was my hard luck or laziness that I did not succeed there. My late father said that if you had the talent you are likely to succeed in any field. I pray for his departed soul. It was August 1965 and Indo-Pak battle had yet not taken place. My father decided that I should go to India and meet my relatives as my paternal uncles; Nani (Grandmother), Khalu (Uncle) & Khala (Aunt) were alive then. Not hardcore but skirmishes were taking place in Dara Haji Pir in Kashmir. I raised my concern to my late father but he told it was common between India and Pakistan since 1947. So it was on 30 August 1965 that I departed for Bareilly by Hora Mail which used to depart from Platform No.4. I reached Bareilly the next morning and was received by my Khalu Haji Amir Ahmad. I was still staying with my Nani when one of our relatives who had a radio run with battery informed that the battle between India and Pakistan had commenced. It was on the evening of 6th September 1965 that a constable from Police Station Amaria came and informed that I was under house arrest. Two of my relatives gave guaranty that I would remain confined to the village Karghaina. It was just a formality otherwise I used to roam all the areas of Rayeenwara (a local term used for Arain villages in Pilibhit). So I remained with my ancestors up to February 1966 till the Tashkent Declaration took place. The other mishap happened in the land of ancestors; I lost my Pakistani passport for which FIR had to be lodged in the Police Station of Amaria, a small town of Pilibhit near my mother’s ancestral village. Finally, my Khalu Haji Amir Ahmad went to Pakistan Embassy Delhi and got a new passport issued for me. In February 1966 I returned by land route of Ganda Singh Hussaini Wala. Here during stay six months at the ancestral village of my mother in Pilibhit, UP, I also learned a little bit of Hindi Language.
I finished my Intermediate (FA examinations) in 1967 & took admission in Government College Peshawar. It was a great experience to stay for two years in this institution. Mr. Mosa Khan Kaleem was the principal. It was during the General Yahya Khan regime when I started my career as upper-division Clerk in Accountant General NWFP Office. I must mention here that I was already rejected twice Inter Services Selection Board aka ISSB. After serving AG Office for one year and four months one of my colleagues. A friend informed me he had listened on the radio that Pakistan Air Force was in need of Education Instructors directly to be inducted as Flight Sergeant. He also informed me the basic requirement was BA/BSc in Second Division. I immediately reported to PAF Information and selection center located on 3 The Mall Peshawar. Flag officer Nazir Mirza was Officer in Charge who reviewed my documents & passed to the wing commander who was Director of Education. I very well remember it on 28th April 1971. After basic Intelligence tests and primary medical examination I, Fazal Karim, Mosam Khan, and Ajab Khan were sent the School of Education for basic training of 6 weeks. I was transferred to the Central Technical Development Unit, PAF Base Faisal as Ian in charge of the Library. On 16 December 1971 when the Pakistan Defence Forces surrendered at Dhaka, there was an urgent need of Education Instructors at PAF Kohat because all the Bengali Education Instructors and Officers were demobilized. I was posted to recruits Training School Kohat now known as PTTS . From June1972I to June I974 Base Commanders Kohat were Grp Capt H MC Misra, Grp Capt Nazir A Mirza, Air Commodore M Afzal Khan. I taught English and Pakistan Studies there for two years and then I was transferred to Air Headquarters Peshawar in Central Library from November 1972 to September 1973. In September 1973 I was back in teaching at Kohat. Once again I was transferred to Central Library Air Headquarters Peshawar. I must mention that my late father was GSO III aka Gazetted Staff Officer at Air Headquarters Peshawar and I was unmarried so he got me twice transferred to Peshawar. I got married to Sarwat on 28th December. They were our relatives & connected with our small Pilibhit based Arain tribe in Pakistan. They lived from 1950 to 1974 in Kocha Hari Singh, Main Bazar Kohat. They later shifted to Lahore and lived in Gulberg III. I completed four years as Flight Sargent & four years as Warrant Officer. Then as an Education Instructor at Peshawar. Now I completed 8 years so I was eligible for Commission so applied for it & my good luck that most Education Instructors were on Deputation to Libya. I was selected easily and send to the College of Education Kohat for six months. It was the time when Zulfiqar Ali Bhutto was hanged on 4th April 1979 and everybody felt it very badly. In this College Group Captain Kiyani later on, Air Commodore Kiyani and Group Captain Nizam and Flt Lt Masroor Ahmad Siddiqui were good teachers. I graduated as a Flying Officer and transferred to Directorate of Studies PAF Academy Risalpur but one of my ex comrades then Warrant Officer Rao Ayoub (now a big tycoon as a property dealer in Malir Cantt, Karachi) played dirty politics and I was posted to PAF Base Samungli. Now I realize that people were against me but Allah was very kind to me otherwise I would have never seen Balochistan and enjoyed my three years stay at Quetta. My first Base Commander was Air Commodore Aziz known as Aziz Tao and second Base Commander was then Air Commodore Akhtar Bukhari later on AVM Bukhari really a good commander. Begum Bukhari was a German lady of a cultivated taste. All students used to go to Quetta for studies. She asked me to establish a school up to class 5 so we were successful in establishing the school. My son Ehtisham Khan was born on 18th August 1981at PAF Base Samungli. I stayed at PAF Base Samungli (Quetta) for three years. In 1982 my father was retired from Peshawar. I served Air force for thirty years & got retirement in 2001. A year after my father left the world in 2002 at the age of ninety. I joined one private Air force training center & served there for the next ten years.
In the flashback, the memories of my six -month stay visit to India, the land of my ancestors are still fresh in my mind. The connection with the hometown where I was born seems to be inseparable. This is the memoir of the man who left India along with his parents at the age of three months. He was brought up & educated in Punjab, & Khyber Pakhtunwala. For six months, during his teenage, he stayed in India, his birthplace & land of his ancestors. In addition to Urdu as the first language, he fluently spoke Punjabi, Pashtu, English & Hindi. Where many of the smart city residents felt embarrassed to affiliate with the mofussil towns of UP & Bihar, Mian Tauseef proudly associates with the small town of Pilibhit on the other side of Radcliffe line. Where many of his relatives from Pilibhit Arain diaspora in Pakistan finds chauvinism with their ancestral roots of Colonial zamindari of United Provinces, he is proud of his roots from the Kisan(Farmer) grandfather.