The English translation of a novel ‘Maharaja Dahir’ authored by Kolkata-based renowned novelist Debasree Chakraborti in Bengali language. The novel has been translated by Rajesh Giri

Dr. Iqbal finished his supper, now he cleaned the table, washed his hands and face and went to bed and started reading again.

Surya Devi writes, “Arab bandits have been eyeing our Sindh country for a long time. The security of Hindustan was based on our civilization, culture and religious foundation. They understood that only if they could break this barrier would their greatest victory be achieved. They were just waiting for an opportunity.

Once upon a time, an inauspicious cloud appeared in the western sky of Sindhu country, hundreds of thousands of black horses rushed towards Aror, blowing yellow dust, and the people of Sindhu became alarmed at the rhythm of clanging swords. Bani Asama, a warrior of a tribe of Arabs named Alafi, entered the political arena of Sindh country.

He killed a representative of the Caliph named Abdur Rahman, fled to Sindh with five hundred Arab warriors. My father’s policy was to help the helpless, so he sheltered Bani Asama. And the entire people of Sindh had to pay for this blunder. My father pursued Sadhana as indifferently as before, and conspiracies arose all around him. Some mysterious shadows starts to float in the heart of Sindh, whispers of conspiracy and laughter combined to compose a magic circle.    During this time Parimal and I used to worship Mahadev every day, my father used to say that by worshiping Mahadev, the power of self-control increases and life become enriched. A girl from Rohri village used to supply our puja flowers, her name was Sheetal. All of Sheetal’s family served in the army of our Sindh country. She used to bring flowers every day and watch our puja, then eat prasad (connected food) and go back to his village. Our two sisters loved talking to her. She used to tell us about his village. The blue Indus river flows between the rugged yellow mountains, a small Shiva temple made of white stone by the river and their Rohri village on one side of the temple. I heard from her that her grandmother was a devotee of Mahadev, by her wish, her family established this Shiva temple. Sheetal was a very cheerful girl. One day when I went to give her prasad, I saw her sitting very upset.

I have never seen her like this, so I was very worried, I sat in front of him and put my hand on her shoulder and asked, Sheetal, what happened to you? If you share your anxiety, the mind calms down, share your thoughts with me, you will get a lot of peace.

Once upon a time, an inauspicious cloud appeared in the western sky of Sindhu country, hundreds of thousands of black horses rushed towards Aror, blowing yellow dust, and the people of Sindhu became alarmed at the rhythm of clanging swords

Sheetal looked at me for a long time and said, Princess, all my thoughts are about your father. We are common people, we don’t have sense of intelligent judgment like you. But my grandmother says, Maharaj has fallen into their trap.

I could not understand anything of her at first. So I told her, “I don’t understand anything, please explain to me clearly.” Then she said, “My grandmother’s house was in Kikan of Sindh. They had a happy family with father, mother and two brothers. His father Pratap was a Jath warrior. Arab bandits had their eyes on their village for a long time. When they could not conquer Kikan after twenty years of continuous attacks, they resorted to deception. In these 20 years, they trick the citizens of Kikan and slowly took control of themselves, thus took refuge in the city of Kikan in disguise. Then in one night they attacked Kikan and destroyed the entire city. Only those who sheltered them survived, the rest were killed indiscriminately. No man, woman, child, or old man was alive.

I learned from her that her grandmother’s father, anticipating the attack, had given her a bag and hid in the basement under their house. He said that Kikan’s history is hidden in that pouch, this treasure she has to protect. If this city get destroyed, she must run away somewhere else with this bag. After the destruction of Kikan, her grandmother left the city in hiding.

While she was running perplexed away from the Kikan, father of Sheetal’s paternal grandfather was returning that way. He worked as a mercenary. He rescued her grandmother and gave shelter to her and later she married his son, Sheetal’s grandmother named her granddaughter Sheetal after her mother’s name.

Dr. Iqbal thought for a while, in the pages of history he read that in 712 AD Mohammad bin Kashem first invaded the country of Sindh. If this information written by Surya Devi is true, then Kikan was invaded and conquered by the Arabs long before this period. How falsehood is established by concealing the truth!  If Kikan’s past is hidden in the bag given by Sheetal’s father, then it is possible to discover many unknown facts of history if the bag is somehow found out. But where is this bag hidden? Has Surya Devi written anything about this? Iqbal could not patient anymore, he started reading again.

Surya Devi wrote, I became very scared after hearing Sheetal’s narration that day. Knowing that Keekan’s past was kept secret by Sheetal’s family, I was curious to ask him how that past was hidden! How is it possible to conceal the past of territory simply in a bag!!

When I asked, she showed me our Mahadeva and said that Mahadeva is entrusted with the responsibility of protecting that terrible past.

Dr. Iqbal fell asleep while reading the diary of Surya Devi. He does not know how much time has passed since then. In his sleep he smelled chicken tikka, with chicken tikka there is sweet memory of Bapida, rehearsals and Delhi’s Karolbagh. On days when there was a twelve-hour long rehearsal, Bapida served hot tea and tikka. Sipping a cup of tea in the evening with tikka had a different taste, which made me forget the tiredness of the whole day’s rehearsals. Panchajanya is also feeling very tired while playing the role of Irfan. So maybe God was providing an end to his fatigue. As soon as the smell enters his nose, he woke up. Opening his eyes, he saw that the light was on in the living room outside, turning on the light of his mobile phone, he saw that it was eight o’clock at night. He came out and saw Abu Talib standing in front of the dining table wearing a black silk gown. Seeing Iqbal, he said with a smile, “I thought arranging everything on the dinner table I will call you. But an archaeologist is sleeping in Raqqa, Syria, this cannot be accepted at all. (Continues) 

Click here for Part-I , Part-II, Part-III , Part-IV , Part-V , Part-VI , Part-VII, Part-VIII , Part-IX , Part-X, Part-X!

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Debasree Chakraborti is a renowned novel writer of Bengali language. Based in Kolkata, West Bengal, India, she has done Master’s in Modern History from the Kolkata University, and authored some thirty books, mostly the novels, with historical perspective and themes. Her most recent novel is ‘Maharaja Dahir’ that covers the history of Sindh from 662, the year of first attack on Sindh by the Arab armies till date.  

Rajesh Giri, born in Kolkata, had his early schooling from Kolkata and then from Medinipur—a village in Bengal. He graduated from Calcutta University with Physics and Maths and Master’s from Burdwan University in 2016. Now he is associated with Adhdhyaan educational institution teaching Physics. History enthusiastic Rajesh Giri is particularly interested in the ancient civilization of India and other regions like Egypt, Mesopotamia, and North America. He loves traveling.

The English translation of a novel ‘Maharaja Dahir’ authored by Kolkata-based renowned novelist Debasree Chakraborti in Bengali language. The novel has been translated by Rajesh Giri

Time – 2021 Place – Syria

Abu Talib has gone, two days have passed since Dr. Iqbal met him. By this time Iqbal himself also disappeared. Today early morning two guys of Chadda sir dropped him in front of that Raqqa book store. From there he returned to his flat on foot. Coming back to the flat he discovers that Abu Talib has not returned, because the flat remains as it is as he left this. The fridge is stocked with biryani and various items of meat. Abu may have known that he would be late to return, so he arranged food for three to four days in the fridge, so that Dr. Iqbal doesn’t have any problem. Returning to the flat, Iqbal slept for all day long, then woke up at around 3 in the afternoon, feeling famished. He somehow sat up in drowsiness, and heated biryani and meat. The sound of the microwave along with the ticking of the wall clock seemed to usher in a mystery. There is no one else in this flat except him. He felt as if a torrent of the past was trying to rush out through the heart of the present moment.

Iqbal’s brain doesn’t work right when he is hungry, he does many things in his subconscious mind, maybe the demands of the mind and brain fuel him to do all these things at this time.

Letting the food heat up, he brought Surya Devi’s diary and placed it on the table, then served the biryani from the microwave onto the plate and placed it on the table and started eating.

He enjoys to read while eating. Because these two tasks are very dear to him. While reading the diary of Surya Devi, Dr. Iqbal feels that there is some information hidden in it, which can change the history of Sindh province. On this diary, the year is written 716 AD, the place is Syria. Dr. Iqbal looked very carefully at the front of this diary, if any page was torn and left out, it would be detected, but no Surya Devi’s diary started from this page.

While reading the diary of Surya Devi, Dr. Iqbal feels that there is some information hidden in it, which can change the history of Sindh province.

If the history is true, then writing of this diary was started a year after the death of Muhammad bin Qasim. But Dahir’s two daughters were killed in Baghdad after the death of Muhammad bin Qasim, So how did Surya Devi reach Syria? If this diary is true, then the Surya Devi was not killed, she somehow moved to Syria. Iqbal composed his mind and started reading this diary again, Surya Devi wrote —

—Mother Sindhu runs through one side of our Aror, when the reddish glow of the rising sun get reflected on the bosom of Sindhu Janani, denizens of Aror begin their day with Surya Bandana. Sitting at this moment today, I feel that everything has remained same as earlier it was, I can see the course of Sindhu Mother whose heart is glowing with the radiance of the rising sun have just fallen on her, my father in white clothes, standing by the river, eyes closed, is offering flowers while chanting the mantra to his Deity. After that he slowly dipped down into the river and bathed and starts his day auspiciously. The stream of past is flowing through the core of the present. I believe in God, my father Sindhupati Maharaj Dahir is the only person who instilled this devotion and faith in religion in me.

He was the backbone of our entire family, he was the soul of our family. Such sattvic and pious man will never be born again in Sindh country. He loved to spend time with us besides running his kingdom. Every day at night father used to tell various instructive stories to his children in the south hall of palace of Aror. Each of these stories contained deep philosophical advices. He is not with us today, we never imagined that such a sattvic man would have that kind of terrible demise. He was the backbone of our family, father used to say that the entire Sindh was his family, the subjects were his children. He considers himself to be the father of all the citizens of Sindh. So right after his passing away the entire Sindhu family began to decline.

If the history is true, then writing of this diary was started a year after the death of Muhammad bin Qasim. But Dahir’s two daughters were killed in Baghdad after the death of Muhammad bin Qasim, So how did Surya Devi reach Syria? If this diary is true, then the Surya Devi was not killed, she somehow moved to Syria.

Dr. Iqbal stopped for a while, here some area of the page dotted with yellow spots, he could understand easily that the writer was sobbing while writing and the drops from her eyes fell on the writing. It seems to him that several streams of time run parallel to this writing like a river. Dr. Iqbal controlled his emotions and take a gulp of food in his mouth and started reading again.

— Once father went with us to visit Kalikadevi temple in Aror, the night before going to this temple father called us and said, tomorrow we will visit Kalikadevi, taken one of your most favorite flowers with which you will offer at the feet of the mother. To us the commandment of the father was equal to the commandment of God. We went to see the goddess with one flower each as we were told. At the time of offering the flower, father said that you now offer the flower at the feet of the goddess. We did as he told. But when Pushpanjali (flowers offering ceremony) was over, father told us a story sitting inside the cave of the Kalika mother. Father started, “Once a person said to Lord Vishnu, tell me what are the flowers by which I would worship you.  In reply Vishnu said, “I want eight kinds of flowers.”

‘Ayusa Pratham Pushp-am, Pushp-am Indriya Nigraham,

Sarba-bhuta Daya Pushp-am, kshama Pushp-am Visesh-ata,

Dhyana Pushpam, Daan Pushpam, Yoga Pushpam, tatha-ibacha.

Satyam ashta-vidham pushpam, Vishnu prasidham kare’

It means give life-span (ayush). Through span the work of life can be accomplished, the second flower is the control of the senses. Control of the mind is possible when the senses are controlled. Whatever money comes to you, how much it is, with all the money you have to collect everything possible, enjoy everything possible, this idea is wrong, that’s why control over mind is necessary. You have to forgive everyone, there is no religion like forgiveness, whoever does wrong, you will not do it, if someone hurts you, and you will forgive him. Donating, meditating and yoga are the three special flowers. And the last flower is true speech. Follow the truth in life, then your victory is sure.

—Hence, it seems that this kind of thinking of father brought about his downfall. If one thinks to control the present time with those Hindu philosophy written thousands of years ago, it is never possible, these principles of forgiveness, charity, and giving shelter to the helpless paved the way for his destruction. Father thought that his family would be better off if he followed these principles, so when he used to sit in Kalikadevi’s cave and meditated peacefully, he did not realize that the thoughts and philosophies of the people around him were flowing in the opposite direction. (Continues) 

Click here for Part-I , Part-II, Part-III , Part-IV , Part-V , Part-VI , Part-VII, Part-VIII , Part-IX , Part-X 

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Debasree Chakraborti is a renowned novel writer of Bengali language. Based in Kolkata, West Bengal, India, she has done Master’s in Modern History from the Kolkata University, and authored some thirty books, mostly the novels, with historical perspective and themes. Her most recent novel is ‘Maharaja Dahir’ that covers the history of Sindh from 662, the year of first attack on Sindh by the Arab armies till date.  

Rajesh Giri, born in Kolkata, had his early schooling from Kolkata and then from Medinipur—a village in Bengal. He graduated from Calcutta University with Physics and Maths and Master’s from Burdwan University in 2016. Now he is associated with Adhdhyaan educational institution teaching Physics. History enthusiastic Rajesh Giri is particularly interested in the ancient civilization of India and other regions like Egypt, Mesopotamia, and North America. He loves traveling.