The party

“It was 14 November 1947 when we arrived in Bombay and stepped out into the noisy, crowded city that was going to be our home.”

I was stunned to hear this. In the course of telling me her story, my mother had casually mentioned the date on which their ship landed in Bombay. I felt shocked and also a bit guilty to know that she remembered this date even after 65 long years, but had never mentioned it before. We were still only in June, and I decided that I must have the book ready soon so that it could be launched on that very date!

I started writing as fast as I could – typing at 100kmph, reading with pages flying, and racing about to get all the interviews done. When I started, I knew absolutely nothing. I believed that all Sindhi families had similar stories. I believed that there was no source material I could draw from. Without making any particular effort, I was led from one person to another. Nandita Bhavnani was closely related to a friend and she opened her library to me. Many times I would casually mention that I was writing about Sindhis and I would be given my next precious lead. There were many chance meetings, one followed by another. I often felt as if somebody ‘Up There’ was orchestrating the whole thing.

My grandfather had been a lawyer, and my mother remembered some of his high-profile cases. This made me curious to learn more and when I started reading, realised how little we in India know about the Sindhis, who are so much a part of our daily lives, I knew I had to try and write something highly descriptive and well-rounded. I realised that much has been documented about the Punjab Partition experience – and that the Sindhis have never spoken. The generation of Sindhis uprooted by Partition had been so focussed on succeeding that they never had the comfort or confidence to pass on their heritage and memories, many painful, to their children. In their new, and often resentful, environment, they did not pause to feel sorry for themselves or to contemplate what they had lost. All their energy went into establishing themselves and restoring the lives of dignity and comfort they had been accustomed to.

I could also see that, comparing them with other global diasporic communities, the Sindhis deserved utmost admiration for the way they cast aside their traditions, tore themselves away from their ancestral land, and moved on without a murmur of complaint. And it wasn't just one family or group of families who did this! It was the entire community, which behaved as one entity in that moment of trauma. Here was an amazing thing a phenomenon that had never been applauded as it should have – or even noticed. It became my mission to document the stories and bring them to light.

Sindh: Stories from a Vanished Homeland was indeed released on 14 November 2012, 65 years to the day after Devi and Kishinchand Bijlani and their six children, one of whom would one day be my mother, had landed in Bombay. Somehow, by word of mouth, it had already begun selling. Quite a few of the Sindhis I knew personally had bought copies to give away as Diwali presents. After the launch, word spread more and I received a long stream of phone calls and emails telling me how much the book had been enjoyed. Many people, both men and women, told me that they had found tears rolling from their eyes as they read.

The book release event was attended by family and friends. A video trailer of the book was shown http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iD8xqC8YuSc&feature=youtu.be  

My book is partly a tribute to this extraordinary community for moving forward in difficult times, leaving behind their cultural heritage to make new lives for themselves. And it’s also a wake-up call that says, hey, enough time has passed; you can look back without those feelings of hostility and betrayal, to see who you are and where you came from.

Over the months and years I have observed with gratitude how this book, written primarily to make my mother happy, affected others; how much it changed my life.