Nirmla's Memories of Sindh

by Nirmla Daswani

Translated into English by Sunita Jhandani

I have fond memories of my Hyderabadi childhood. We were a family with 3 sisters and 4 brothers living in a compound of 7 Hindu homes. Thick doors with heavy bolts prevented anyone from entering the compound, but we got along well with many of our Muslim friends and would share Biryani and other delicious foods with each other.

My sisters and I couldn’t go out like my brothers to see movies or to play; we were limited to visiting family or school. But school was such fun — it’s where we learned to cook and sew as well as to read and write in Sindhi and English! I started at Tolaram Girls School and then went to Mira School.I loved visiting my Nano and Nani (my maternal grandparents). I would run to their house and spend wonderful times with them. Many times Nano would take me shopping in the bazaar, and we’d return for my favorite Machi Palla, cooked by Nani.

On festival days like Cheti Chand, we would go to the market to browse the different stalls that sold all kinds of things, from toys for children to food. The Koak Palla (roasted fish) stall was one of my favorites. We drove in a horse-drawn cab called a Victoria, driving under the mango trees. I still remember trying to catch the branches and pull the mangoes off!

I was 16 and in my last year of school when Partition happened. I had taken my preliminary exams, but it became too dangerous to continue, so school closed and Matriculation exams were cancelled. I didn’t mind as I wasn’t really keen on taking tests anyway!

There were all sorts of conflicts between Hindus and Muslims at that time. Father sold one of our houses and rented another one out as he was concerned about what might happen — it was in an area that became especially dangerous.

Even though not all was tension and strife, there were times when Mother would hear fighting and would peek out of the windows to see outside. We weren’t allowed to look in case someone noticed and bothered us. Down in our compound, some Hindu young men were training to fight with wooden poles in case of an attack.

When the time came for us to leave, my brother came from Baroda with tickets. We had to leave with him immediately, not taking anything with us. He said it was more important to save our lives than to worry about possessions. Mother refused to go without her sister and sent word to her to join us. Though it was dangerous, my brother went to buy more tickets for the additional family members.

I still remember how fearful we felt as we went to the station, unsure if we would even reach there safely. We knew we would not be out of danger until we reached India. It was the last time we went by horse carriage in Hyderabad. We had a little bit of money in our clothing and left everything else. Yes, we lost our home and all our possessions, but thankfully, we all left safely and resettled in India.

Along with the difficult times towards the end of our Sindh-days, I most remember my beautiful homeland for the wonderful experiences of life. I can still taste the Dhal-puri, or Mirch Pakora from the food stalls, and remember the fun of buying fresh mangoes from the street stalls.I wish I could return once more to Hyderabad, especially to the house where my family lived and see the places where I experienced so much joy as a child. I will never forget my life there.