Sitting in front of my office computer one day, I was scrolling different websites and reading articles about Sindh and its people. Suddenly, I saw an article poignantly titled ‘O Alla, Mounh Natha Vasiran….’ (Memories that refuse to fade-). The writer Arun Babani, himself a descendant of Sindhi Hindus, had so evocatively described the memories of people who still remember the places they were born in and that now lie in Pakistan. Among other things, he also mentions Sindh Hindus living in Rohri, a beautiful city in the North of Sindh situated on the banks of the Indus. These Hindus, now living in India, still pine for buildings, temples and tikanas that they left behind during the partition of Indo-Pak subcontinent.
Reclining on my chair, I finished reading the article and looked out of the tall glass windows into the green-carpeted hills of Wellington. The air seemed calm and peaceful; however, my thoughts were elsewhere. The article had transported me to Rohri which is so different, chaotic and mysterious, yet equally beautiful. It brought to my mind my visit to Rohri and how I also felt a tinge of sadness by looking at the enchanting edifices and sacred places that the Sindhi Hindus had to leave behind, for good.
Being an anthropologist who is fascinated by the pre-partition spaces and cultures, I always felt intrigued by Rohri and Sukkur, the twin cities that boast so many historical landmarks. At last, I visited it in the spring of 2017. When we visited the shrine of Khwaja Khizar, the boatman told us that there is a temple called Vasan Shah darbar(also called Vasan Ram) that is situated close by ,and that we would find interesting. He said that as it is located in the narrow alleys, so cannot be accessed from the car, and so we had to go there by walking.
The moment I left the car, I felt the magic of Rohri enveloping me, drawing me to its charms. Though for others it might be a bunch of dilapidated buildings and worn out houses, I could see past life throbbing in the now shabby and half-ruined buildings. The narrow, dimly lit streets were lined with old houses with beautiful wooden balconies, covered with curtains. At some moments, the curtain would be raised a bit; a woman or girl would peep outside, then shy away retreating into the dark interiors of the house. Most of the houses had Hindu names and dates that revealed their pre-partition origins. Nestled among streets, there were some small shops selling food, snacks and other paraphernalia. At some places, there were small tea stalls where men sat sipping tea from earthen bowls, while cows and buffaloes were lazily milling around, eating food from garbage dumps.
After traversing many such streets, we eventually reached Vasan Shah Darbar. Vasan Shah was a Hindu saint who lived in the early nineteenth century. He was a disciple of another saint of great renown, Saen Parushah whose darbar is also very close. Both personalities were highly spiritual and had a huge following. Today, the darbar is located right at the bank of Indus, and the water laps quietly at its foundations. It has an open courtyard, a verandah, some smaller rooms for kitchen and a larger hall-like room containing samadhis, pictures, and icons of Vasan Shah and other related saints and gods.
Mr. Babani, the writer of the article mentioned above, describes that Hari Dilgiri , a poet originally from Rohri still poignantly recalls the times when he was 12 years old and used to visit the darbar of Vasan Shah. Hari narrates ‘I would spend my nights there listening to Baghat Kanwarram[1]. I would be ecstatic listening to him. He wore a white robe with a red Pagdi, with Jhumar on his feet. After the concert, the Ardaas, and palau , literally, blessings would pour out from the skies’.
Reclining next to a pillar in the courtyard, I tried to imagine what would it look like to listen to the voice of Bhagat Kanwarram singing ‘naaly alakh jay bero taar’, in a moonlit night when the gentle noise of the waves of Indus would also have accompanied the music turning it even more spiritual. However, the partition has devoid these spiritual places of the crowd, and now there is an international borderline separating devotee from the saints that they revered. It came to my mind that perhaps, the partition has not only divided the land, houses, and temples but it has also partitioned our collective memories.
However, this pessimism faded as soon as I emerged in the street. Because, when I looked at the darbar peacefully poised in the heart of Rohri, I felt that as long as these places are standing, the memories would remain alive and would resiliently refuse to die.
Works cited:
- http://www.sindhishaan.com/article/partition/part_02_02.html
- http://saivasanshah.com/
[1] A Sindhi singer famed for singing spiritual and sufi songs.
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