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Kewalram Shahani - The One Who did not join the Exodus
In this age of materialism and cynicism, we forget the fortitude and character of the many great people who lived before us, whose ideals withstood the trials and tribulations of time and who were undaunted by fears. Saaiin Inder Kripalani’s story about his grandfather reminded me of the story of another great person about whom I posted many years ago. I had the pleasure of knowing and spending many a hours with Saaiin Kewalram Dayaram Shahani, a friend of my late maternal grandfather (whom I never knew). Saaiin Kewalram Shahani was the son of Rishi Dayaram Gidumal Shahani, a famous philanthropist who was the founder of the D.G. College in Hyderabad (Sindh). Saiin Kewalram Shahani had to suffer considerable harassment and difficulties after partition, for a while he (with young children) was left with little more than his majestic bungalow in a posh neighborhood by the Clifton beach in Karachi (an area considered safe because of its neighborhood of embassies, ministerial homes, etc.) His family had owned large numbers of stores, lands, etc, but these were confiscated as "evacuee property" by the government of Pakistan (never mind that Saaiin Shahani refused to move anywhere despite threats to personal safety). Even the family’s charitable trust was violated and Mr. Shahani had to make the rounds of courts for over a decade and a half, in crowded public buses, unable to afford even a car, in order to try to retrieve some of his property. Well, after a little of the family wealth was recovered, Mr. Shahani continued his unpretentious lifestyle, and returned to the philanthropic activities that his family had long been known for. Among other things, he gave generously to the only School for the Blind in Karachi (which had a residential facility). So it came to be that they put him on the Board of this school. (If I recall correctly, he had donated the land for this sprawling complex in the middle of the city in the first place). I was about twelve years old and enjoyed visiting him frequently, he being like an old great uncle to me. He took me to the school and advised me to volunteer my time which I dutifully did (reading books that were not available in Braille to a student). Well it came to pass one stormy night that a boy was murdered at the school premises. It so happened that this was the only Sindhi boy in the school and a Hindu one at that. They beat him with sticks for no apparent reason other than that he was different (I don’t know which crime of the poor 10 year old was greater, being Sindhi or being Hindu, probably both). Saaiin Shahani called me the following evening as he heard the news and asked me to accompany him to visit the school the following morning. At the school, the officials received him very politely (indeed obsequiously) and nervously, given his position as a major donor. They "explained" that the gang of kids who murdered the boy had mistaken him for a dog, that it was raining heavily (which it had been), and his cries for help were confused for the yelps of a dog. A visibly shaken Saaiin Shahani said little and asked only a few questions. Yes, the police had been over and they had cooperated fully. One of them, sensing skepticism, was quick to add that he wasn’t saying that this was the real story, but who knows, and this is what the boys of that house (dormitory) were saying. I was in a rage at the gibberish the officials had spouted with a straight face, but bit my tongue, it not being my place to speak in the presence of an elder. Mr Shahani then visited the site and bid farewell to the school officials. He then asked me to accompany him as he went around town collecting all the newspapers for the day and the day before (Urdu, English and Sindhi, the only Sindhi paper then available in Karachi being published from Hyderabad). I scanned every newspaper cover to cover for the story as he sat quietly. I helped him decipher the Urdu papers for he could not read Urdu. The English paper had a small matter of fact paragraph, "A boy from Hyderabad was beaten to death..". The Urdu papers largely ignored the story (one had a one-liner news brief). The Sindhi paper published it prominently and also gave a lead editorial which was largely what one would expect - shame for humanity that such a horror could happen, how could blind kids in particular be so inhumane, what sort of an education were they getting, what prejudices they were acquiring in Karachi, etc, and demanding a full investigation and action against the culprits, etc. I was horrified that the coverage in the Karachi (non-Sindhi) press was so meager. This is sick I said. The only reason they fail to publicize it is because the boy is a Hindu, I said, as though Mr. Shahani needed to be reminded of this fact. And the nerve of those school officials ! The police, they will do nothing too. After a long quiet contemplation, Mr. Shahani finally broke his silence with a Sindhi refrain. "Inhen men bi bhalo!" [there is also some good in this]. What in the world was he referring to, I demanded to know. That the boy was a Sindhi Hindu, and so the bigots have ignored the tragedy. I was dumbfounded. Slowly, with a tremor in his hand, this man who had suffered decades of uncalled for indignities for his ethnicity and creed and who now lived among a people so often spiteful towards his kind, elaborated. "If the boy were not a Hindu Sindhi, they would condemn the school. The school would have very bad publicity, and many people would use it as an excuse not to be charitable towards it. As a result, every child in the school would suffer, for the school relied entirely on donations. And if I was rightfully angry towards the culprits, surely I didn’t believe that there is not a single innocent child in that large school ?" he asked rhetorically. "Sure the officials were not forthright. But this just shows that they are attached to their school and so want to protect its reputation, so it can continue helping blind children. "As for the Sindhi newspaper, this was good too. For the family of the boy lives in Hyderabad, and they would read it (and it alone) and be a little consoled by the fact that someone cared about the fate of their son. "We cannot reverse fate ["Jekee thiyarno ho, so thiyo"]. We can only try to help those who are left behind and those who can use our help. And so we must control our anger ["Belee keenay manjhaan keena thiye"] lest it prevent us from doing good." I am afraid I couldn’t. I returned only once, to volunteer for another hour. I really wanted to know how the older boy I had read to, felt. I can’t really remember what he said, other than convincingly claim that he wasn’t involved (it happened in a different building). But he did not show that he was particularly grieved either. Perhaps he simply wanted to block it from his mind. I never returned. As for Mr. Shahani, I am sure that he continued to contribute generously to that school. For you see, Mr. Shahani was a follower of a long tradition of Sindhi Sufi thinking. Peace, |