When Mirza Khalich Baig published Zeenat in 1890, it marked a decisive turning point in the literary landscape of Sindh. Up until the late nineteenth century, imaginative prose in the region was largely shaped by the conventions of oral folklore, classical romances, and premodern dāstāns — tales populated by celestial beings, jinns, fairies, and miraculous interventions. In his clear-eyed Preface to the novel, Khalich Baig explicitly breaks away from this heritage to introduce the modern, realist novel (khiyalī qisṣo) to Sindhi readers.
Zeenat abandons supernatural spectacle in favour of plausible, human-centred social realism. Baig presents a narrative grounded in the everyday turns of fortune, domestic routines, and familial conflicts. Writing primarily in naturalistic, lively dialogue rather than dense, archaic exposition, he captures the domestic idioms, household phrases, and nuanced cadence of late nineteenth-century Hyderabadi speech. In doing so, he pioneered a style that allowed the novel to function both as an engaging narrative and as an instructional, reforming mirror held up to society.
The Author: Mirza Khalich Baig (1853–1929)
Often revered as the “Shams-ul-Ulama” (Sun of Scholars) and the towering architect of modern Sindhi prose, Mirza Khalich Baig was a polymath, civil servant, dramatist, and translator of astonishing breadth. Fluent in Sindhi, Persian, Arabic, English, and Urdu, Baig translated and adapted monumental works of world literature, including Shakespearean drama and European treatises, into Sindhi, earning him the enduring epithet of the “Shakespeare of Sindhi.”
Baig wrote Zeenat in October 1890 while stationed in Rohri as a colonial administrator. His official career across various districts of Sindh gave him a deep, intimate understanding of the administrative, social, and economic realities of the province under the British Raj. As an intellectual deeply aligned with the modernising currents of the late nineteenth-century reform movements across South Asia, Baig viewed literature as an instrument of social pedagogy. His mission was clear: to foster a culture of vernacular reading and to equip his community, especially women, with the moral, practical, and intellectual tools needed to navigate a rapidly modernising world.
Sindh in Transition: The Historical and Social Canvas
The world depicted in Zeenat is a society navigating the fractures of colonial transition. In the aftermath of the British annexation of Sindh in 1843, the old Muslim feudal aristocracy that had flourished under the Talpur Mirs found itself displaced.
This social tension is captured with exceptional fidelity in the novel’s early chapters. Through the household of the late Sarai Fateh Khan, Baig illustrates the precarious position of the old nobility, who clung to notions of pedigree, bloodline, and pride while surviving on dwindling state pensions. Through characters like Mai Shahrbano, Baig critiques the reflexive habit of preferring an unqualified, destitute relative simply for the sake of lineage over a capable match. He also juxtaposes this declining feudal order with the upwardly mobile merchant class (represented by Seth Gul Muhammad Memon, with trading networks stretching to Bombay and Karachi) and the new professional intelligentsia (represented by the English-educated lawyer Mian Muhammad Ramzan and the clerk Ali Reza). The history of Ali Nawaz Khan reflects Sindh’s broader historical positioning within trans-regional Asian networks connecting Turkestan, Iran, Khorasan, and the Ottoman Empire to the ports and courts of Sindh.
At the heart of the text stands Zeenat, a protagonist who embodies Baig’s vision for the modern Muslim woman. Writing at a time when female literacy was often met with suspicion and ridicule, Baig crafts a heroine whose intellect and domestic capability are mutually reinforcing rather than contradictory. Zeenat is not merely pious; she manages the household accounts, embroiders to sustain the family income, reads literature, and exercises thoughtful judgment.
The novel functions as an expansive treatise on pressing social reforms. Baig advocates for women’s literacy and explicitly asserts the necessity of a woman’s consent and agency in marriage proposals. Through the dialogue of Ali Reza, the novel mounts a rationalist critique of child marriage, dowry, domestic extravagance, and the emotional ruin caused by polygyny. In a narrative arc spanning a pilgrimage to Mecca, encounters in Baghdad, and an audience before the Ottoman Sultan, Baig envisions a modern Muslim subject whose loyalty to the homeland is enriched by international education, travel, and broader civic engagement.
A Note on the Translation
Translating Zeenat into English brings the foundational text of Sindhi fictional realism into the broader domain of world literature. While premodern Sindhi literature is widely celebrated for its mystic Sufi poetry, Zeenat demonstrates that nineteenth-century Sindh was equally engaged in urgent debates on gender reform, colonial modernity, and narrative form. This translation aims to preserve the domestic intimacy of Baig’s Hyderabadi idiom, the moral urgency of his authorial voice, and the vibrant social portrait of late colonial Sindh.
Soni Wadhwa
Preface
I humbly submit to the readers that there is a great demand for novels in Sindh. In developed countries with advanced languages, thousands of novels have already been written and thousands more are created year after year. The writers are not only men but also women. From this, one can understand how much passion people there have, both men and women, for reading such books.
In Sindhi, books of this kind are extremely rare; nor does anyone seem to have much enthusiasm for writing or reading them. Therefore, to create and foster such an interest, I previously wrote a small book in this new style of storytelling titled Dilaram. Now, I have written this second one.
This is a newly composed fictional tale (khiyalī qisṣo) that describes the turns of time and daily affairs using household idioms and phrases. It revolves around the lifestyle of the respectable households of Sindh, which is usually passed down through generations in these times. The story is not framed merely as a narrative, but is largely presented in the form of dialogue. Unlike the stories of older times, it contains no mention of celestial or supernatural figures such as jinns, ghosts, fairies, giants, or magic. It describes events that are plausible and could happen to any human being.
Since my objective was also to leave an impression of virtue on the hearts of women, the central character among the fictional figures I have created is a woman. The entire story depends upon her. This story, too, is therefore named after her: Zeenat. I hope readers will derive great joy from reading it, and gain various kinds of advice. I also hope that they will kindly inform me of any slip or error they notice so that it may be appropriately revised in the future.
This book addresses the following topics, offering appropriate reflections wherever reform is needed: anxiety of a mother regarding her daughter’s marriage; giving strength/support to one’s own relatives or outsiders; consideration of caste/lineage or personal merits, or other traditional habits of old families leading to their ruin; women’s education, women’s dilemmas, and domestic management; mutual co-operation between two families; and avoiding marriage at a very young age. This book raises several other questions as well. For instance, what kind of wife one should seek; why it is necessary to seek the woman’s consent for marriage; and what kind of husband a woman should accept. Then there are several ideas this book touches upon: the custom of women in purdah going outside to other places; the custom of welcoming guests and feeding them; asking for proposals and accepting marriage proposals; wasteful expenses in marriage; finding methods for domestic budgeting and savings; what purdah really means, and proper ways of observing it; how husband and wife should converse with each other; writing letters to one another; women’s travel and sea voyages; how to conduct oneself during times of hardship; oppression by government officials; states of sorrow and happiness; faithful servants; the effect of bad company, how bad habits form, and their negative consequences; parental affection towards children; the ability of educated women to influence their community; organisation of women’s schools and their positive outcomes; native students going abroad for higher education; gaining experience and knowledge by living among people and touring countries; attaining high positions through diligence and cleverness; meetings/societies for women’s reform, their management, and benefits; good results of loyalty and honesty of nobles toward rulers; love for the homeland; proposals for governance; advantages and disadvantages of native people marrying among themselves; pride in one’s community/caste; differences in temperament between two brothers; regret over bad behaviour toward parents; a husband and wife being obedient to one another (not complete subjugation); bad consequences of discord between husband and wife; rights of parents over children; a concise guide for everyone regarding land cultivation and agriculture.
Khalich Baig
1 October 1890
Rohri
Table of Contents
- An Anxiety for the Daughter
- The House of the Sarai
- An Anxiety about the Son
- The Alert Girl
- A New Message
- On Match-making
- The Blessed Marriage
- A Separation
- A Rescue
- In the Hajj
- In Prison
- A Reunion
- The Ruin of a House
- A New School
- In Baghdad
- Before the Sultan
- A Plan
- Before the Elders
- The Erring Son
- Back in the Homeland
Chapter 1
An Anxiety for the Daughter
It was the month of mid-summer; the morning sun had already climbed high in the sky.
Bakhtawar had finished her sweeping and cleaning work. She washed the utensils and put them in the kitchen. Mai Shahrbano, the widow of the late Sarai Fateh Khan, was sitting on a cot in the verandah. She had just finished cleaning her teeth with a chew-stick. Right there, leaning her head on her hands, she sat lost in thought. Her daughter, Zeenat Bano, was sitting in a swing outside the adjoining room, reciting her daily portion of the Quran. Her son, Hamid Ali, put his books under his arm and left for school.
While the household members were in this state, there was a knock at the door. Bakhtawar went outside and soon returned carrying an exquisite small painted box on her head and a basket of fresh fruit in her hand, placing them on the mat before Mai Shahrbano.
Mai Shahrbano asked, “Bakhtawar, what is all this?”
Bakhtawar replied, “Mai, the family of Seth Gul Muhammad have sent their prayers and greetings, along with these gifts. Some fresh produce has arrived for them from outside.”
Saying this, Bakhtawar went towards the kitchen. A moment later, when she returned, Mai was still sitting in the same posture with her hands on her cheeks, and the gifts were sitting untouched on the mat.
Bakhtawar remarked, “Why, Mai? What worry are you sitting with today? May your children live long, what worry should you have?”
Shahrbano said, “Bakhtawar, why shouldn’t I worry? Ever since Sarai passed away – may God rest his soul – everything has fallen upon me. It has been a year, but it still feels like Sarai died only yesterday. Where is the happiness we used to see in this house? You too have spent your life with us and are like a family member. The worry about Zeenat’s marriage sticks in my chest like a thorn. Everything else is fine. I would like to see her go to her own home, get married, and settle down. That will bring her happiness and we will be free from anxiety. These days, any small thing is enough to scandalise everyone. It won’t take long for neighbours to start gossiping. Even respectable people nowadays pass their days keeping their heads low. No one knows who will start badmouthing whom and when!”
Bakhtawar said, “Mai, you speak the truth. If parents don’t worry about their children, who else will? God willing, Zeenat will soon be happy. But Mai, you too are to blame a bit. You have been turning such good proposals down! And from some very good families. First, there is the house of Seth Gul Muhammad. He is a minor merchant, I know, and yet deals in goods worth thousands. Or Muhammad Ramzan, the lawyer. Is he any less? He is respected everywhere!”
Shahrbano said, “They are good people, but are our own relatives any worse? My brother Allahdad’s young son? He is our own blood. But Bakhtawar, today my head is spinning. What should I do? Nor do I know anything about what the girl thinks. Talk to her once. Find out what she’s been thinking. You raised her. She won’t hide her thoughts from you.”
As Bakhtawar kept talking, she also unpacked the fresh fruits newly arrived from Bombay and placed them on the mat: regular pineapples, fancy pineapples, mangoes, and all kinds of citrus. As for the box, Mai opened it herself. Inside were fine pieces of silk, a small case containing a set of real pearls, and ten to twelve gold bangles. Seeing these, Bakhtawar grew happier than Mai. She stepped outside and called out to Zeenat Bano: “Dear Zeenat, come and look! What lovely things have arrived!”
However, Zeenat was busy with her recitation. She merely raised her eyes, looked at Bakhtawar, and returned to her reading. Mai told Bakhtawar, “Take this box, put it inside the large chest, and put all the fruit on a plate up on the shelf.”
Bakhtawar did just that and returned shortly. Picking up on the previous chat, she said, “Mai, praise be to poor Gul Muhammad! He is so generous – look at the gifts he sends! As if he were a relative. If you ask me, he is far better than Muhammad Ramzan. Besides, Gul Muhammad even openly promises that he will spend money to get Hamid married as well!”
Shahrbano replied, “In my view, both are equal. If they are good, both are good. If not, neither is.”
Bakhtawar asked, “How so, Mai?”
Shahrbano said, “Look, Seth Gul Muhammad is a good man, and his younger son is said to be humble and fortunate. But still, you know their history. He is a Miman (Memon) by caste. If I give my Zeenat to him, people will laugh at us, saying we did it out of greed for money. They might even say that when the husband died, the women sold off their burden at a bargain price. I don’t want people laughing at my deceased husband.”
Bakhtawar said, “Mai, what you say is true, but one goes where comfort lies. We too will be comfortable. Although by God’s grace we are getting by well, are those prosperous days of ours still around? Until our Hamid – may God prolong his life – is grown up enough to earn a living, we will manage to get by.”
Shahrbano said, “A humble piece of bread of our own is better than living with humiliation.”
Bakhtawar said, “So what’s wrong with Muhammad Ramzan then?”
Mai replied, “The same thing. He is a big man now, dealing in thousands, but he too is of no pedigree. You know his father was raised on handouts from the mosque, calling the azan prayer like a rooster, to get pieces of bread. Furthermore, that lawyer already has a wife! Who in their right mind would give their precious child as a co-wife!”
Bakhtawar said, “Whatever you say is not wrong; I don’t like it either. But what fault do you see in Seth’s house?”
Shahrbano said, “I do see fault. I care about my brother’s children. Who gives to strangers when they have their own? My brother Allahdad has a daughter and my Hamid will marry her one day. His son, Umaid Ali, is someone I would gladly accept for my daughter. What could be better than that?”
Bakhtawar replied, “That is true, Mai. Who wouldn’t want that? I only mentioned it for the sake of a comfortable living. Otherwise, your nephew is a handsome young man. He doesn’t lack anything.”
Mai said, “We will get by somehow, by God’s grace. If my brother isn’t rich, he isn’t poorer than us either. True, Umaid Ali is mute, but he has no other defect. He manages his father’s house. Whatever he is, he is our own flesh and blood. Nobody can discard him. God willing, his younger sister will turn out to be sensible and virtuous. She will be good for my son.”
Bakhtawar said, “Mai, Sarai Umaid Ali is good and young, but where does he match our Zeenat? You speak on behalf of your brother, which is fine, but even if I were given ten daughters in return, I wouldn’t match her with him. More importantly, where will Umaid Ali ever be able to earn anything? He sits at home all day, and our Zeenat will be exhausted serving him. Whatever pension Sarai Allahdad gets will probably go towards paying off debts. What other income does he have to make our Zeenat comfortable?”
Shahrbano said, “That is true, but dear Bakhtawar, shared joys and sorrows are better among relatives. I value our own over gold from strangers. These are the very worries I keep weighing back and forth. This was the thought I was immersed in. May God let the girl marry a strong, noble man so we may rest at ease. Alright, now that you’ve reminded me, go and find out what Zeenat thinks. It is also time to cook lunch. Go take care of that. Whatever God wills shall happen.”
Saying this, Mai stood up, and Bakhtawar went towards the kitchen.
Chapter 2
The House of the Sarai
A mere mention of the family’s situation, as given above, is not enough. More explanation is needed.
Sarai Fateh Khan belonged to an ancient family of Sindh. His father, a famous and brave man, served during the days of Mir Ghulam Ali Khan Talpur and died fighting in battle. Sarai Fateh Khan himself held a respected and esteemed position under Mir Murad Ali Khan. After the rule of the Talpurs ended, he used to receive a pension of one hundred rupees from the British government. Had he taken up a job, he would have received a position of great honour from the government, but he felt it beneath his dignity to serve anyone other than the Talpurs.
Considering himself a loyal beneficiary of the past government, he took pride in living on a private income. Although he could not abandon the habits and lifestyle of his former status – which caused him some financial difficulties – he was a wise and experienced man. He conducted himself with very good judgment. In the initial days, he would melt down his valuable gold and silver ornaments to make ends meet. When all of those were exhausted, he reduced his expenses so that they would not exceed his pension. By doing so, he kept himself out of debt; otherwise, under such circumstances, many families of that old era fell into ruin before him.
The Sarai also did two other good things, which showed that he possessed more wisdom in every respect than other people of his community. One, he took only one wife, which spared him domestic squabbles and internal troubles and also helped him save on expenses. Two, although he was born and raised in an older era, he was thoughtful and began to adapt according to the needs of the present times.
He enrolled his young son, Hamid Ali, in school at an early age, where he began learning Sindhi first and then English. Although his relatives and neighbours began to laugh at him and make fun of him because of this, he did not care about it. He not only educated his son, but also began educating his daughter, Zeenat Bano, at home. Partly through her own effort, partly through Hamid’s company, and partly due to being taught by an elderly teacher, she became adept at reading the Quran, religious books, and a little Sindhi and Persian.
These progressive ways of the Sarai were entirely his own. They were completely different from the ways of his community; hence, his close relatives would laugh at him. They would either avoid him or feel envious of the praise he received in the city for these matters. So he had no choice but to follow his own path independently, maintaining only formal interactions with his relatives. He lived a few miles away in the outskirts of Hyderabad. Residing in the countryside gave him a good opportunity to benefit from the progress of the city.
Earlier, they had many male and female enslaved servants, but after the British began to rule Sindh, only one Afro-Sindhi man named Shingur and an Abyssinian woman named Bakhtawar remained with them. However, Shingur also died, and only Bakhtawar was left. She was of great help to them. She had raised the children from their infancy, so they loved her like a mother. Since his income was modest, the Sarai did not hire any other servant. Bakhtawar managed all the household chores by herself.
Finally, at the age of sixty, the Sarai passed away. At the time of his death, he called his family members and sat them before him, giving advice to each regarding their future conduct, which remained etched on their hearts until their death.
After his death, the government reduced his pension from one hundred rupees to fifty rupees and transferred it to his wife, Mai Shahrbano, on which they supported the household. Apart from that, the lady herself and her daughter Zeenat Bano were skilled in sewing and embroidery. Bakhtawar would sometimes go into the city to fetch silk or thread from the weavers or other shopkeepers, have the embroidery work done by Mai and Zeenat, deliver it back, and bring home the money.
In this manner, even after the Sarai’s death, their household ran so smoothly from within that the neighbours were astonished, wondering whether the family had some secret, alchemist’s touch — for they always managed to live so honourably and keep their expenses in such good order.
Hamid Ali was now sixteen or seventeen, but was still studying in the English school. Zeenat Bano was a young girl of fourteen or fifteen years. Just as we have praised her character above, her outward appearance was no less impressive. Being a child of a purdah-observing household and raised in comfort, she had a very delicate physique. Her complexion was not extremely fair, yet she was immensely attractive. Her facial features were such that they would instantly captivate anyone’s heart.
She had such a pleasant disposition that there was hardly anyone to whom she ever spoke without a smile. The art of managing household expenses and accounting, which she learned from her father, remained with her. Whatever she read or heard, she put to good use. She was also mindful about time: she would write and read at an appropriate hour, and sew or embroider when it was time to do so.
Not just this, she would often help her nurse Bakhtawar in cooking. And if Bakhtawar fell ill, the entire burden of the chores would fall on her shoulders. Despite this, she was modest. She kept her clothes simple yet neat. In the small room assigned to her in the house, where Hamid stayed with her, things were arranged so methodically in their respective places that if any neighbour ever went there, they could not stop praising her homemaking skills.
Because the daughter of this household had these qualities, praise for her spread from the village to the people of the city. What noble and respectable person would not desire such a maiden’s hand in marriage? Even while the Sarai was alive, there was some talk regarding this, but after his death, it became easier for people to make efforts, especially when everyone knew that the Sarai’s relatives were not on good terms with them.
Seth Gul Muhammad Memon was a wealthy merchant who had a business house in Hyderabad. His agents were stationed in Karachi, Bombay, and other places. He was making efforts for his son, sending gifts and delicacies early and late, and had even won over Bakhtawar by giving her gifts.
Mian Muhammad Ramzan had his own motives. Although he already had one wife, hearing the praise of the girl, he desired her greatly and made efforts to secure her hand: she was from a good family and marrying her would allow him to be counted as a respectable person too. He had now struck good fortune through his legal practice and was widely known. But nothing could undo the fact that he belonged to the fisherman caste, and his father served as a mullah in a mosque.
But as noted above, Mai Shahrbano had objections to forming an alliance with either of these gentlemen or their families. Although Bakhtawar spoke much in favour of the Seth, Shahrbano wanted Zeenat to be married to her brother Allahdad’s son. Umaid was mute and incapable of earning a living in any way, but he was a close relative. She thought like an old-fashioned woman: no matter how worthy strangers are, such women tend to reject them in favour of their own unworthy relatives. And her brother had a young daughter of three years whom she wished to marry to Hamid. These were strong reasons for her to reject other proposals.
However, she had not yet made a firm decision in her heart. She felt weighed down by anxieties regarding what to do, as she did not feel inclined to seek advice from an outsider. Her advisors were two: one was Bakhtawar, and the other was her young, educated daughter, Zeenat Bano. But she did not consider it appropriate to consult Zeenat Bano in such matters; therefore, she would occasionally bring up the topic with Bakhtawar or ponder over it by herself.
Amidst these worries, several days passed.
Chapter 3
An Anxiety about the Son
In the lowland area of Hyderabad, there lived a Mughal named Ali Nawaz Khan. He had come from Khorasan during the rule of the Mirs (Talpurs) and was a trader. Before getting into how his household is connected to our story, it would be better to share some context about how he came to Sindh.
Originally, he was a Turk. His father was the chief of a mountainous district on the border of Turkestan and was a vassal of the Russian Emperor. In those days of frequent wars between Russia and Iran, both sides invaded each other’s territory to loot and plunder. In one such war, due to certain reasons, the Iranian army emerged victorious while the Russians suffered a defeat.
In the Russian army, many subordinate local rulers had brought a huge force. Ali Nawaz’s father was among this force. In the bloodbath that was let loose on the battlefield, many Russians were killed. The spoils of war included human captives: men, women, and even children were taken prisoner. Ali Nawaz’s father, along with his wife and two sons, was one of these. He was almost killed by the victorious party, but somehow pleas for mercy from his wife and children saved his life. While their lives were spared, they were taken prisoner to Iran. They were nothing but captives on foreign soil, but they considered themselves fortunate simply to be alive and together.
Thus passed two or three months. And then, things took a turn. Now it was the Russians who were better prepared. They marched to attack Iran. Ali Nawaz’s father learned that the Russian Emperor was drawing near. He found an opportunity to escape and join the Emperor along with his sixteen-year-old son.
He fought bravely and loyally on the battlefield for his homeland and his tribe, but both he and his son lost their lives.
Back in Iran, his wife suffered the wrath of the Iranian government. They threatened her and young Ali Nawaz, “The two of you will have to pay for this, or we will sell you off as slaves.” Out of deep shame and distress, Ali Nawaz’s mother consumed poison one night before going off to sleep. In the morning, young Ali Nawaz woke up to find her dead.
This writer cannot write what the boy went through, but surely the readers can imagine it all. Life had been so different a mere four days ago: he was living happily with his father, mother, and brother. Now, they were all gone: the father and brother had fled, leaving the mother and the boy alone, and now, even she was gone. Ali Nawaz was an orphan at the tender age of ten.
Then came the announcement that young boys and girls were to be sold off in the slave market. One day, it was Ali Nawaz’s turn. He was bought by an Iranian, with whom he stayed for five or six months. The man had to leave for another region. As he left, he handed Ali Nawaz over to a broker.
The slave market opened once a week. The next week, Ali Nawaz had a new master. In the next two years, he was bought and sold five times, until he fell into the hands of a wealthy merchant, with whom he found some peace.
Ali Nawaz behaved well and was good-looking. His master and other members of his family treated him with affection. It was with this master that he received some education too. Here, he learned to read the Quran. As he grew older, he assisted his master in the shop. They treated him as a member of the family. He was honest, and people were full of praise for him.
When the merchant fell ill and realised his end was near, he made a will and distributed his wealth among his children. But he also gave Ali Nawaz a considerable sum of money and set him free.
Even after his master’s death, Ali Nawaz remained in that house for five or six months. It was only later that he decided to go and strike out on his own. That’s how he reached Khorasan. There he started pursuing trade. Because in those days Iranians could go to Khorasan, it was very easy for him to do business. With time, he became famous, skilled, and sharp in trade.
From there, he arrived in Sindh. He came here both for trade and for travel. That was during the rule of the Talpur Mirs. Somehow he gained access to the royal court, where he made a fortune and earned recognition as well. This led him to settle in Sindh permanently.
Ali Nawaz did not keep a shop. His work involved the Mirs and their courtiers. Because he was trustworthy, clever, educated, and active, people took him seriously. They trusted him with huge amounts of money and sent him off to faraway places – Bombay, Calcutta, Baghdad, Iran, and others – to fetch the choicest merchandise for them.
For all these troubles, he received handsome wages and rewards. That’s how Sindh became his homeland.
He lived here for so long and knew so many people that he was practically a native in every sense of the term. He married a girl from a respectable household and settled down. Even after the reign of the Mirs ended, he lived in Sindh. Although his former glory was gone, he earned enough to live with dignity through trading.
God blessed him with a son. He named him Ali Reza and gave him a decent education. Ali Reza knew Sindhi and Persian. But he was also fluent in English. He was educated in a Sindhi school, but he carried himself well and seemed clever in the way he spoke to others.
Ali Nawaz chose not to send him elsewhere in search of a job. Ali Reza wasn’t initiated into trade either. Instead, he enrolled as a munshi or a recordkeeper with the richer Sindhi, Persian, or Hindustani-speaking patrons. That’s how his English got stronger. His patrons found his English skills quite handy for reading. Sometimes, he was even sent to Karachi on business affairs on their behalf. He made about 60-70 rupees a month thanks to these jobs related to reading and writing.
Ali Nawaz continued to trade in food and beverage. That’s how the family lived comfortably. He was not a son of the soil, but he compensated for it with clever practical sense. His household was modest and tidy. The family consisted of himself, his wife named Jaan Bibi, and a maid servant named Mariam who had been staying with them for many years and was now a family member.
A couple of years before the time we are speaking of, Ali Nawaz Khan passed away, and the entire burden of the house fell on Ali Reza, who was now a young man of twenty-four. He was very handsome with a fair complexion. His father ensured that his son was well-behaved. Because he interacted largely with respectable people, their refinement rubbed off on him. By nature he was very gentle, so much so that both Hindus and Muslims of the city were eager for his company.
Even after the shift in rulers, the connection Ali Nawaz Khan had with the nobles and prominent figures continued through his son. Ali Reza maintained social ties with them on occasions of joy and grief, and the members of his household visited them as well. In every way, they regarded each other as friends or relatives.
They had a similar relationship with Sarai Fateh Khan’s household. Furthermore, Fateh Khan’s son Hamid and Ali Reza had studied together in school for a short time. In a way, they were friends.
The domestic connection that existed during the lifetimes of Ali Nawaz and Fateh Khan continued among their descendants after their deaths. Both sides visited each other. On some Sundays, Hamid would visit them, and both young men would sit outside in the outer reception room enjoying conversation. On other Sundays, Ali Reza would visit Hamid’s house. Their mothers also visited each other’s houses on occasion to spend the day, so the two families knew each other well.
Jaan Bibi had been contemplating her son’s marriage for a long time. He was young and earning well. After her husband’s death, she wanted her husband’s lineage to continue. She had even identified a few prospective brides, but Ali Reza did not agree. He kept saying, “I am still young. It’s too early for me to get married.” This was partly out of modesty and shyness, and partly because he knew those families well. He also knew that those girls were uneducated.
His mother had once spoken harshly to him about it, and she felt hurt afterward. Whenever she remembered that incident, she would often cry out of sorrow, thinking: “Perhaps I will die without seeing my wishes for my son fulfilled.”
One night, Jaan Bibi’s sleep was disturbed. She let out a deep sigh and tossed and turned. Mariam, who was sleeping nearby, woke up and asked, “Mistress, are you unable to sleep?”
Jaan Bibi replied, “Mariam, worldly worries weigh on my heart, so my sleep has vanished.”
Mariam asked, “Mistress! What worries?”
Jaan Bibi replied, “One is about Ali Reza’s marriage. He has grown up so much. Mothers in this world raise sons through hardships so they can see their desires fulfilled while alive. Perhaps my fate is bad, for whenever I bring this up, he turns his face away or gives absurd answers and walks off.”
Mariam said, “Yes, mistress, such are the times nowadays.”
Ali Reza, who was lying nearby asleep, woke up when his name was mentioned. Once he understood what was being discussed, he sat up, walked over, and said, “Dear mother, is all well? Have you again lost your sleep tonight over these stories?”
Jaan Bibi replied with a bit of resentment, “Son, if God has taken away our sleep, who can help it?”
Mariam said, “Son, the mistress speaks the truth. You are being very stubborn. Before other people’s children even earn enough, their parents marry them off to fulfill their hopes and settle their households. You have grown up so much, yet you keep arguing that you won’t marry.”
At this, Jaan Bibi said resentfully again, “Leave it, Mariam. I have pleaded with him enough. Now I will keep quiet. Let him enjoy his life. This boy thinks that once his mother dies, he can go and marry wherever he pleases on his own.”
Ali Reza placed his hand on his mother’s feet and said, “Mother, do not say that. May God keep you safe; do not be upset. I will do whatever you tell me. What choice do children have outside their parents’ wishes? But parents also have a duty to listen to what is reasonable from their children and consider it.”
Jaan Bibi asked, “Well son, what reasonable thing did you say that I didn’t listen to? Was it reasonable when you said, ‘I am still young, I earn very little. Should I marry when I grow a beard? Or will you marry me off when I find the treasure of Croesus?’”
Ali Reza replied, “Mother! When I was truly young and not yet capable of earning, my objection was valid. Although there is often a strong urge to marry in youth, I know from what I have read and observed what comes of marrying at an early age. First, when a person is himself a burden on his parents, why bring a wife to add more burden? Besides, due to early marriage, one cannot continue to study, learn, and improve oneself. Children born to such young parents are often weak. Early marriage also makes a person reach old age and weakness quickly. Furthermore, as long as one does not earn oneself, marriage is pure extravagance. As the saying goes: ‘He cannot feed himself, yet keeps dogs.’ God forbid, if hard times hit, one suffers not just for oneself but for others too. Because of these reasons, I kept refusing. But now that God Almighty has removed all those excuses, I myself am willing to do whatever you wish.”
Jaan Bibi, who listened to all this silently, said, “Son, leave those old talks. Barely four months ago, I mentioned the daughter of Shahbaz Khan Naikedar or the daughter of Ali Bakhsh Sheikh, who were acquaintances of the Pathans. They would have agreed to the proposal, but you flatly refused. You are the same person. Why do you say ‘whatever your wish is’? What is my wish now? This English education makes young men cast their parents’ wishes aside. Now, it’s the boys’ wishes. Had things gone my way, I would have had grandchildren and great-grandchildren by now!”
Ali Reza said, “Dear mother, forgive me. My objections to those proposals were: First, we only know those people by name, and we know even less about those girls. We don’t know what they look like or how educated they are. Merely that their parents are respectable or wealthy is not enough. Whatever news you get will be through intermediaries, and what you may like, I might not. It is necessary for me that my wife knows how to read and write. Of course, she should be a virtuous woman, and if possible, I should be personally acquainted with the proposal or have seen her myself.”
Jaan Bibi said angrily, “Son, then just go to sleep! Information can be gathered by asking around, and we already know that educating girls to read and write is not the custom among noble families here. Neither do I know of any such girls, nor do girls have to take up clerical jobs or government service so that parents would educate them! Those girls knew only enough to read the Quran and offer prayers.”
At this, Mariam chuckled and said, “Come on son, say something!”
Jaan Bibi said, “No, Mariam. He is not destined to marry. Other women are blessed with good sons.”
Ali Reza reasoned, “Mother! I know you are angry, and I don’t mind your momentary anger. But if I marry just to please you now, I will end up spending my whole life in regret. I cannot do that.”
Mariam interrupted, saying, “Mistress, I know of one educated girl. Doesn’t Sarai Fateh Khan’s daughter know how to read and write? Whenever we visit, her work involves reading and writing. I see her sometimes doing some sewing, but otherwise she is either reading or writing!”
Jaan Bibi said, “Mariam, you are right. She is indeed clever at reading and writing, and people even laugh at her for that. Otherwise, she is an excellent girl. She is beautiful, well-behaved, and modest.”
Mariam said, “Mistress, I heard from Bakhtawar that proposals are pouring in for her. Rich people are after her, and some even say that Seth Gul Muhammad would like her hand for his son. She must be that good.”
Jaan Bibi said, “Woman, there are plenty of good proposals in the world. For him, a houri must descend from heaven before this lord of ours agrees to marry! There is certainly no flaw in that girl Zeenat Bano, but that can only be said when they show her to this lord and he approves!”
Then Ali Reza looked up and said, “Mother! If you like that proposal, I like it too. We know that household very well. I have even seen her once. I like her very much.”
Mariam asked, “Well son, how did you see her?”
Ali Reza said, “It was about two months ago when I went to see Hamid Ali. Hamid had gone out for some work, and I was sitting outside. Meanwhile, a noise came from inside, and Bakhtawar came running to the door, saying to me, ‘Son! A snake has appeared in the room inside, please come and kill it!’ I followed Bakhtawar into the room where Sarai’s daughter was standing. I got a full view of her. Out of shyness, she turned her face and went toward the verandah where her mother was, while I stood there startled. Then Bakhtawar closed the door between the verandah and the room. I killed the snake in the corner, hung it on a stick, and came out. That room probably belonged to Sarai’s daughter, as Mariam mentioned, because a lot of reading and writing material was lying there, and other things in the room were kept with great neatness. From that moment on, my heart was convinced that Sarai’s daughter is indeed beautiful, educated, and capable.”
Mariam testified, “Son, that is indeed true.”
Ali Reza said eagerly, “Then mother, do not delay now. Now it is up to you, lest you blame me later, saying you tried to arrange my marriage but I refused!”
Jaan Bibi replied, “Son, that is fine, but what if they have already agreed to a wealthy man like the Seth?”
Ali Reza said, “Then it’s fine, but I will certainly feel regret because I won’t easily find such a bride again.”
Jaan Bibi said, “Alright son, in a day or two I will go to Sarai’s house under some pretext and bring this up. Then whatever is destined will happen.”
By the time they finished talking, daybreak arrived. Mariam started sweeping and tidying up, while Ali Reza and Jaan Bibi prepared to perform their morning prayers.