By Prof. Dr. Abdullah Arijo

As the first Sunday of December approaches each year, Sindh gears up to celebrate its Cultural Day with vibrant enthusiasm. Streets burst with color, cities resound with traditional melodies, and a sea of Ajrak and Sindhi topis symbolizes pride across the province. What began as a symbolic gesture of cultural affirmation has transformed into an annual festival cherished by many. However, beneath the festive atmosphere lies an uncomfortable reality: these celebrations have increasingly become unplanned, commercialized, and at times chaotic, diminishing the day’s essence and educational value.

A Reflection on 7th December

On 7th December, I faced one of the most difficult situations of my life. Despite our love for culture, traditions, and the vibrancy of our society, the reality of overcrowding and unmanaged traffic became painfully clear that day.

• I had to rush to the hospital urgently.
• The streets were filled with noise, congestion, and chaos.
• What should have been a short 2-kilometer journey turned into a 3-hour ordeal.
• By the time I reached, my blood sugar had dropped dangerously low, and I lost consciousness.

This experience is not just personal; it reflects a broader issue. Our cities need better traffic management, emergency pathways, and public awareness. A society that values life must ensure that ambulances, patients, and those in urgent need are not trapped in endless jams.

Key Takeaways

• Culture and celebration are important, but they must coexist with responsibility.
• Public spaces should be managed to balance joy with safety.
• Authorities and citizens alike must recognize that health emergencies cannot wait.

A Celebration without Structure

Sindh Cultural Day was meant to be a tribute to the province’s ancient heritage, a reminder of its language, folklore, music, and intellectual legacy. But in recent years, the celebrations have taken a direction that raises concerns. With no central planning, coordination, or guidelines, the day often turns into a free-for-all, dominated by spontaneous rallies, reckless bike stunts, and loud processions that clog streets for hours.

In many towns, traffic grinds to a halt, public spaces become congested, and citizens, especially the elderly, women, and patients, suffer the consequences of blocked roads. Instead of becoming a day of unity and cultural understanding, it sometimes appears as a day of public inconvenience.

The enthusiasm of youth is admirable, but without structure, it becomes risky. Motorbikes racing through crowded streets, unregulated loudspeakers, and overcrowded stages present real dangers. Unfortunately, accident reports have become routine parts of the day’s news.

When Culture Becomes a Commodity

There is no denying that Sindh Cultural Day provides a welcome economic push to vendors selling Ajrak, Sindhi topi, and traditional clothing. For genuine artisans, this day offers visibility and income they often struggle to earn throughout the year. This aspect should be celebrated.

However, the market is now flooded with mass-produced, synthetic items made in factories far from the cultural heartland. These items may mimic traditional patterns, but they lack craftsmanship and cultural authenticity. The dominance of cheap imitations does more harm than good, overshadowing the true artisans whose work reflects generations of inherited skill.

The shift from heritage to heavy commercialization has diluted the soul of the day. Culture is being packaged as a product, while the intellectual richness of Sindh its poetry, Sufi philosophy, storytelling tradition, and history is pushed to the background.

Educational Institutions: A Missed Opportunity

Historically, educational institutions were at the center of Cultural Day observance. Schools, colleges, and universities would hold seminars, exhibitions, and discussions highlighting Sindh’s contributions to literature, architecture, agriculture, and science. Students learned why Ajrak matters, what the Sindhi topi symbolizes, and how the Indus Valley shaped human civilization.

Today, however, most institutions have reduced the observance to celebratory gatherings, music sessions, and social-media-driven photo competitions. Students dress up and pose for pictures, but rarely learn the significance behind the symbols they proudly wear. A cultural day without education is merely a costume parade. It fails to transmit heritage, build identity, or instill respect for history.

Culture Requires Respect, Not Noise

Cultural celebration does not require noise; it requires understanding. It does not require road blockades; it requires appreciation. The increasing obsession with rallies and loudspeakers reflects a shift from substance to spectacle.

Moreover, loud “celebrations” in public spaces disturb hospitals, schools, and work environments. True cultural pride should never inconvenience society. A refined culture is demonstrated through discipline, organization, and respect for public order, not through chaos.

What a Planned Celebration Could Look Like

Sindh Cultural Day deserves proper planning that involves:

1. Coordination at the district and city level

Local administrations, cultural departments, and community leaders should work together to ensure organized events that are safe, accessible, and beneficial for the public.

2. Safety measures

Clear routes for rallies, designated spaces for gatherings, limits on sound systems, and traffic management are essential.

3. Academic and cultural programming

Educational institutions should revive seminars, exhibitions, literary sessions, and theatre performances. Students must engage with Sindh’s history, not merely wear it.

4. Support for artisans

Government and NGOs should help local artisans display and sell authentic Ajrak, rilli, caps, pottery, and handicrafts. This would preserve traditional skills and promote genuine heritage.

5. Cultural expression with respect

Community members should be encouraged to celebrate in ways that do not disturb public peace or obstruct essential services.

Reclaiming the Spirit of Sindh Cultural Day

Sindh is home to one of the world’s oldest civilizations. It has gifted humanity with harmony, tolerance, poetry, music, and a unique aesthetic identity. Celebrating this heritage is not just a cultural act, it is a responsibility.

If Sindh Cultural Day continues to be observed in an unplanned manner, it risks becoming a loud but hollow ritual. The day should evolve into something more meaningful, inclusive, and educational. Without proper direction, the celebrations may continue to drift further away from the values they are meant to honour.

A Culture Too Precious to Dilute

Sindh’s heritage, its Ajrak, topi, Sufi poetry, folklore, arts, and craftsmanship, deserves reverence, not disorder. Pride should come with discipline. Celebration should reflect wisdom. Culture must be protected from becoming a superficial spectacle.

Sindh Cultural Day is a powerful opportunity to showcase identity and unity. But only a structured, thoughtful approach can ensure that the next generation understands the depth of what they are celebrating.

If Sindh truly wants to cherish its culture, the celebrations must shift from unplanned exuberance to purposeful expression. Only then will the day pay fitting tribute to Sindh’s timeless legacy.

Read: Sindhi Media and Cultural Responsibility

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Prof. Dr. Abdullah Arijo is a science writer, academic, and researcher known for his work on public health awareness, veterinary sciences, and socio-cultural issues. He regularly contributes opinion and analysis pieces to national newspapers, focusing on evidence-based understanding and social development in Pakistan.

The post How to Celebrate Sindhi Culture Day first appeared on Sindh Courier.

By Dr. Muhammad Mataro Hingorjo | Ireland

Ajrak is not merely a cultural fabric; it is a profound expression of the Sindhi soul. Its intricate designs, developed over centuries, reflect the intellectual beauty, creativity, and resilience of the people of Sindh. Woven into its patterns are stories of continuity, identity, and honour—preserved faithfully across generations.

There was a time, not long ago, when a triple-lettered, linguistically-racist terrorist organization terrorized Sindhi people in their own historic cities—Karachi, Hyderabad, Mirpurkhas, Sukkur, and beyond. Wearing Ajrak or Sindhi topi became a life-threatening act. Sindhis were targeted, harassed, and in many tragic cases, even killed, simply for embracing their identity.

Yet, despite this wave of violence and discrimination, the people of Sindh never bowed. They did not disown their cultural symbols. Ajrak, for them, was not just a piece of cloth—it was resistance, dignity, and memory. Even when faced with death, Sindhis wore their Ajrak with pride. That legacy continues today, stronger than ever.

Those who oppose Ajrak or mock Sindhi heritage—whether through prejudice, political motives, or ignorance—do not represent sanity, sincerity, or unity. Thankfully, they are becoming an irrelevant minority. A growing majority, especially among the younger generations in urban centers, reject such divisive and hateful ideologies. They recognize Sindh as their shared homeland, and they embrace its culture with pride, regardless of their ethnic or linguistic background.

At the same time, we must not ignore another force trying to exploit this cultural pride for political gain: the Pakistan People’s Party (PPP). After decades of bad governance, corruption, and betrayal—particularly regarding the Indus River and illegal land acquisitions under federal schemes—the PPP has lost its moral credibility among the people. Their recent emotional speeches glorifying Ajrak and Sindhi culture ring hollow. These are not acts of solidarity but desperate attempts to regain lost ground and mislead the public once again.

The people of Sindh remember too well the PPP’s role in facilitating land grabs, enabling environmental destruction, and silencing dissent. Their complicity in federal injustices and their alignment with anti-people policies cannot be washed away with symbolic gestures. The damage of the past two decades—economic, environmental, and cultural—has been profound.

Today, both urban criminal gangs, built on hate and terror, and the feudal-political mafias like the PPP, are struggling for survival. They feed on division and fear. But Sindh is changing.

The new generation—of all communities, ethnicities, and backgrounds—understands this land belongs to all who live here in peace. We are the sons and daughters of the soil. We share its rivers, lands, oceans, mountains, minerals, Sufi legacy, and centuries-old harmony. We reject all attempts to divide us—whether in the name of ethnicity, language, or political manipulation.

Insha’Allah, the conspiracy to fracture Sindh will fail. Sindhi identity, embodied by symbols like the Ajrak, is a unifying force. It has survived persecution, political games, and cultural suppression. And it will continue to rise—worn proudly by all who believe in a just, inclusive, and peaceful Sindh.

Read: Heritage in Fabric: Symbols of Unity

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Dr. Muhammad Mataro Hingorjo is a Family Physician originally from village Dhandhi Hingorja, Tharpakar, Sindh, currently residing in Limerick Ireland.

The post Ajrak is Sindh’s Living Heritage first appeared on Sindh Courier.

• Sindhi hospitality, rooted in love, tradition, and honor, offers the world a glowing example of what it means to be open-hearted
• Hospitality is one of the most powerful expressions of our shared humanity. It transcends language, religion, borders, and class

By Abdullah Usman Morai | Sweden

In many cultures, a guest is not just welcomed—they are revered. “A guest is a blessing from God” is not merely a phrase; it is a living principle in homes across the world. Hospitality is one of the most ancient and universal human values, and in our increasingly divided and digital world, it has become more relevant than ever. Whether practiced in tribal deserts, bustling metropolises, or remote villages, the act of opening one’s door to a traveler or stranger represents hope, trust, and shared humanity. This article journeys through the international expressions of hospitality—interwoven with personal stories from Iceland to Morocco—and places a special lens on the deeply rooted and soulfully practiced hospitality of the Sindhi people.

Hospitality in the Global Context: A Universal Gesture with Local Flavors

Hospitality is more than comfort and care. It is a reflection of how a society treats the “other.” Across continents, it takes on unique forms—yet the essence remains the same. In Italy, hospitality might be expressed through a three-hour dinner of local dishes and wine. In Japan, it is ritualized through precise gestures of respect and service. In Morocco, it means sweet mint tea served in elaborately decorated glasses, a symbol of warmth and welcome.

From diplomatic state visits to simple homestays, hospitality also functions on a broader stage, shaping tourism, guiding ethics in service industries, and even playing roles in peace-building. It demands awareness of cultural sensitivities, respect for difference, and attention to human dignity.

My Personal Journey with Global Hospitality

Having had the privilege to travel extensively, I have experienced firsthand the beauty of global hospitality. From being warmly received by friends in Iceland, Sweden, Germany, Belgium, Turkey, Iran, and France, to sharing stories over home-cooked meals in Italy, Australia, and Morocco, the generosity of hosts across the world has left a lasting impact on me. These were not just stays—they were invitations into people’s lives, their kitchens, their laughter, and their stories. In Pakistan, too, I’ve been welcomed into homes where tea is never served alone—it’s accompanied by a plate of empathy, pride, and heartfelt connection.

Each experience reminded me that hospitality is a universal language—one spoken without translation, understood across borders, and felt in the heart.

Sindhi Hospitality: A Tradition of the Heart

Among the most enduring traditions of hospitality I’ve encountered is that of the Sindhi people. In Sindh, hospitality is not an act of obligation—it is a source of pride and identity. Guests are received like royalty, often with Ajrak—a block-printed traditional shawl—and the Sindhi Topi, symbols of immense honor and respect. These tokens are not merely decorative; they embody centuries of culture, heritage, and the Sindhi philosophy of mehmaan-nawazi (guest reverence).

When Sindhis welcome a guest, they often greet them with joined palms, fingertips pointing upward, and the word “Sain” spoken with heartfelt warmth. This one word—“Sain”—carries with it the weight of respect, honor, and reverence. It’s not just a greeting; it’s a recognition of the guest’s value. Whether spoken to elders, travelers, or strangers, “Sain” is a cultural embrace, as sacred as the food served or the khaat / charpai offered for rest.

From offering freshly prepared saag and bajhri/ kanrk/ joer ji mani to insisting guests take the best spot on the khat / charpai under the shade of a nim tree, hospitality here is a full-sensory, emotionally sincere experience. Even those with little to spare will serve generously, believing that guests carry blessings and spiritual merit.

Sindhi Hospitality Abroad: A Global Tradition in Motion

What’s remarkable is that Sindhi hospitality is not limited to geographical Sindh. Whether living in Moro, Sukkur, Nawabshah, Mirpurkhas, Ghotki, Mithi, Karachi, Dubai, Europe, South East Asia, the Middle East, or North America, Sindhis carry their culture of warmth wherever they go. I’ve seen Sindhis abroad organizing dinners, opening their homes to visiting friends and strangers alike, sharing traditional dishes like Sindhi Biryani and khirni, and even presenting Ajrak or Sindhi Topis during international cultural gatherings.

Even in the digital age, when travel and distance are bridged by screens, Sindhis are known for real-time virtual hospitality—inviting people to online mehfils, sending food via delivery to others in different cities, and celebrating moments of connection with sincerity. For many of us, a Zoom gathering with tea in hand still holds the energy of a real bethak.

Hospitality’s Many Roles: From Culture to Diplomacy

Whether in a Sindhi village or a Parisian apartment, hospitality performs multiple societal functions:

1. Cultural Preservation: Hospitality showcases and protects the customs, cuisine, language, and traditions of a people.
2. Tourism and Identity: For countries and regions, hospitality is crucial in shaping national identity and reputation.
3. Diplomacy and Trust: From state banquets to community exchanges, hospitality lays the groundwork for peace and dialogue.
4. Humanizing the Other: Welcoming someone from another place or background can challenge stereotypes and build empathy.
5. Community Strength: Hosting guests brings people together, reinforcing community values of cooperation, sharing, and responsibility.

The Shadows of Generosity: Challenges of Hospitality

Yet, hospitality is not without its dilemmas. In the global hospitality industry, genuine care can sometimes be replaced by superficial service driven by profit. Workers may be overburdened and underpaid, while cultural experiences are packaged and commodified.

In the Sindhi context, the intense cultural pressure to be hospitable, sometimes beyond one’s financial capacity, can create stress and social imbalance. Families may overextend themselves to host weddings, Eid guests, or travelers from afar, driven by social expectations rather than affordability. Additionally, hospitality in tight-knit communities may clash with changing values around privacy, boundaries, and personal space.

Hospitality in the Digital Era: Changing, Not Disappearing

In the era of platforms like Airbnb, Couchsurfing, and Zoom, hospitality is taking new forms. Technology allows strangers to connect and cultures to be shared across distances. Yet the soul of hospitality—offering without expectation, welcoming with humility—must remain intact. Whether it’s a traditional bethak in a Sindhi home or a shared kitchen in Barcelona, the heart of hospitality is timeless.

Welcoming the World with Wisdom

Hospitality is one of the most powerful expressions of our shared humanity. It transcends language, religion, borders, and class. It is a bridge between people, between histories, and between futures. My own journey—from the snow-covered warmth of Icelandic homes to the spice-filled kitchens of Sindh—has shown me that hospitality is not about perfection or luxury. It is about the willingness to open one’s door and say, “You are welcome here.”

Sindhi hospitality, rooted in love, tradition, and honor, offers the world a glowing example of what it means to be open-hearted. But like any powerful force, it must be practiced with awareness—balancing tradition with mindfulness, generosity with sustainability, and pride with compassion.

In a world often divided by fear and mistrust, hospitality remains a quiet, enduring revolution—one that begins not with policy or technology, but with a warm smile, an Ajrak-draped shoulder, joined palms, and the sacred word: “Sain.”

Read: Timeless Principles of Power

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Abdullah Soomro, penname Abdullah Usman Morai, hailing from Moro town of Sindh, province of Pakistan, is based in Stockholm Sweden. Currently he is working as Groundwater Engineer in Stockholm Sweden. He did BE (Agriculture) from Sindh Agriculture University Tando Jam and MSc water systems technology from KTH Stockholm Sweden as well as MSc Management from Stockholm University. Beside this he also did masters in journalism and economics from Shah Abdul Latif University Khairpur Mirs, Sindh. He is author of a travelogue book named ‘Musafatoon’. His second book is in process. He writes articles from time to time. A frequent traveler, he also does podcast on YouTube with channel name: VASJE Podcast.

The post Beyond Borders and Thresholds first appeared on Sindh Courier.

Karachi, Sindh

Newly appointed Consul General of China in Karachi, Yang Yundong called on Sindh Chief Secretary Sindh Dr. Muhammad Suhail Rajput on Friday April 28, 2023. The matters related to bilateral relations and mutual interests were discussed during the meeting. Chief Secretary Sindh welcomed the new Chinese Consul General and assured the cooperation of the provincial government.

“The provincial government and people of Sindh value brotherly relations with China,” said Chief Secretary Sindh.

He added that there were very good opportunities for Chinese businessmen and companies to invest in the Sindh province.

The Consul General Yang Yundong thanked the provincial government for its support and cooperation.

The meeting also decided to extend cooperation in the fields of Agriculture and technology. Chief Secretary Sindh presented Sindhi Traditional Ajrak and Topi to the guest. (PR)

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The post New Chinese Consul General meets Sindh Chief Secretary first appeared on Sindh Courier.

 [Pakistan is notorious for frequent incidents of conversion of Sindhi Hindu girls to Islam, while the India is known for conversion from Hinduism to Christianity and reconversion to Hinduism. In certain cases, Muslims too have converted to Hinduism in India. According to Wikipedia, 1200 people were reconverted to Hinduism from Christianity during 2021 in Chhattisgarh’s Jashpur area. The same year, 209 Christians and 32 Muslims converted to Hinduism. There is no official conversion process or ceremony for converting to Hindu faith. To become a follower, one needs to have the will and commitment to study the scriptures and abide the proper practices. In America and some other countries too several cases of conversion of faiths – from Christianity to Hinduism and Hinduism to Christianity are reported. About 55 percent of the 900 Cham people from Vietnam, settled in America, are also Hindus.        

Mass conversions to Christianity among Sindhi Hindus were reported from Ulhas Nagar, Mumbai. According to a 2018 report some 20000 to 30000 Sindhi Hindus had converted to Christianity in Ulhas Nagar. Some cases of such conversions took place in scattered areas of India as well as abroad. The conversion process of Sindhis in India had started some decades back, which had developed unrest among the Sindhi community resulting in individual efforts for reconversion.        

A book ‘Sindhi Journeys of Faith’ has also been published, authored by a prominent businessman Deepak Mahtani.

Following is the narrative one Deepak Idnani, who not only shares how he converted to Christianity, but also reviews Deepak Mahtani’s book in detail – Nasir Aijaz, Editor, Sindh Courier]   

Deepak Idnani writes:

I am Deepak Idnani. I was born in India to Hindu Sindhi parents, and at 9 months of age immigrated to England with my family. As a small child, I knew God existed. I believed the blowing of the wind through the trees and the movement of white fluffy clouds across the sky to be the actions of Guru Baba.

When I was five, and my brother four, Christian neighbors started taking us to Sunday school. When the teacher first mentioned Jesus’ name, something stirred deep within my spirit and I felt drawn to this person.

So, from an early age we learnt about Christianity at Sunday school, and Hindu gods at home, where we participated in pujas and other rituals. Both faiths had many morals and principles in common, but also significant differences which confused me, but my heart was deepening in love for Jesus and I spent a lot of time praying to Him and reading my Bible.

I was almost ten when I believed strongly that I had to commit my life to the one living God and His Son, Jesus, who had died to pay the penalty for my sins. One Sunday night, I knelt by my bed and asked the Lord Jesus to forgive my sins and come into my life. From that moment, I knew I was accepted by God and would be with Him forever when I died.

Concerned about my parents’ reaction, I decided not to tell them but continue going to Sunday school for as long as they would allow me. At 14 my parents felt I was getting too interested in Christianity and asked me to stop going to church (my brother had already stopped, having decided he didn’t want to become a Christian).

I still didn’t have the courage to tell them I was following Jesus and decided instead to respect their decision and stop going to church until I was an adult. I hid my Bible under my bed and read through it in the middle of weekend nights. I kept praying that I would have the courage to be honest with my parents about my faith.

In February 1985, during my first year at university, I gained the boldness to write a letter to my parents informing them that I was a Christian and explaining my reasons for that choice. Their reply expressed shock and concern and asked to discuss the matter during Easter vacation.

After a long discussion, also involving my brother, they agreed to let me follow my faith and get baptized, though they chose not to attend the service that May. After some time, my parents came to terms with my decision, even attending a few Christian events themselves.

Watch: Humaira Channa sings Christian Song 

Over the years, I have found I can talk to the Lord Jesus about anything and trust Him to guide me and provide for all my needs. He has given me a deep love for God and people and given me an inner strength, most notably demonstrated in 1998, when I was diagnosed as having the rare disease Pemphigus Vulgaris. It causes the body to start destroying its own skin by raising large blisters over it, mistaking it for a foreign body.

It’s incurable but can be controlled by high doses of strong steroids and immunosuppressant, which were quite debilitating and I had to be away from work for a long time. During this time I took comfort from the experiences of Job, whose body was also covered with painful sores, and I was strengthened by the prayers and love of family, relatives and friends from all faiths. I sensed the Lord’s presence near me and found that I could accept His will even though it was hard. I opened myself up to receive His joy and peace.

Over the next two years God brought an almost complete healing, and I now have only rare and isolated skin lesions and have been able to work again normally since 2001.

In February 2004, I sadly lost my father. He had read some of the Bible, attended church with me and listened to a few Bible teaching tapes. My pastor was at the hospital bedside when he passed away and we both felt a sense that he had come to know the Lord Jesus in his spirit and was now at home with Him. As a family we have known tremendous peace and comfort from God since the bereavement.

Sindhi Journeys of Faith – A book by Deepak Mahtani  

Introducing the book, Deepak Idnani writes:

A number of Sindhis around the world have chosen to become followers of Jesus and a book has been compiled by Deepak and Celia Mahtani in which nineteen Sindhis (including me) share how they came to place their faith in Jesus Christ.

The stories are written by men and women of all ages, residing in different countries. They include medical professionals, housewives, entrepreneurs, teachers and accountants.

A common thread in all the stories is that the persons were seeking a God whom they could know personally and intimately.

Deepak Mahtani was a successful businessman who had acquired considerable wealth and possessions but felt an emptiness within himself that could not be filled. In fact, the more he had, the more he felt something was missing. The tragic death of his 28 year old sister in 1984 caused him to become very angry and depressed and thus began his spiritual quest. He started with the Hindu scriptures and also read the Koran, the Bible and Buddhist writings but nothing seemed to give him answers and he became more confused. He wanted to know with certainty where he had come from, what he was doing here and where he was going to go. A Sindhi Christian friend encouraged him to read the Bible again and as he did so things started to make sense, which led him to join a Bible study group.

He realized that God had created the world and that this God had a deep love for each person on this earth. He came to understand that God is a holy God whom we have offended by our wrongdoing and our wrong attitudes including pride, anger and selfishness. Although God’s penalty for this was eternal separation from Him and lack of peace, He so wanted to restore His relationship with us that He sent His son Jesus Christ to pay the penalty on our behalf. This thought staggered Deepak – he did not have to do anything but ask for God’s forgiveness and accept His offer! After accepting God’s offer and allowing Jesus to be his Lord and Savior, he found the void was replaced by peace and he did not have to live in fear every day. This was tested when he was diagnosed with the hereditary kidney disease that had taken the life of his mother when he was only 12. I felt his anguish as I read of how he was told he would have to wait at least two years for a kidney transplant and then shared in his ecstatic joy when his prayers for a matching kidney were answered within just three weeks of his name being placed on a waiting list! Deepak is very thankful to God for his new spiritual and physical life and that he can know Him as Father, Brother and Friend.

A businessman from Hong Kong had destroyed his life through drug addiction and reached a place of desperation. He and his brother were deeply involved in crime in order to finance their drug purchase, so that what had started as fun had given way to excruciating fear. I read on eagerly to see how he would be freed from this terrible state. He was attracted by the freedom he saw in the lives of Christians who would walk the streets telling the drug addicts about Jesus. While attending a Christian rehab in the Philippines, he prayed a simple prayer, “God if you are real, show me.” Joy and gladness filled my heart as I read how he sensed Jesus instantly cleansed away all the awful things he had done. As the tears streamed down his face, he encountered a loving and forgiving God and felt so light and free.

His life has been a continuing process of healing and change and it has been very difficult for him at times. However, his faith in Christ has enabled him to walk up to higher heights than he had ever imagined he would reach. He knows without a doubt that he would not be alive if Jesus had not died and gives all praise and glory to Him.

A high school teacher from Hong Kong was brought up to worship the Hindu gods, which she did with a passion. During the monthly Sat Narain katha she would feel incredibly holy as the waves of incense floated around her. While at University she saw something in her Christian friends that seemed to make them wiser with a quiet confidence even when life was difficult and she was eager to find out what this was. When she attended Christian worship she was deeply moved and felt like laughing and crying all at the same time. She was drawn to this God who did not come in a chariot with a bow and arrow but as a servant king to reconcile us to God the Father through being the ultimate sacrifice. He came to die for us, knowing He would be despised, rejected and beaten. This God seemed more real to her than any other god she had prayed to in the past.

As she read the Bible she developed a strong desire to be like Jesus, to love like Him and to show His compassion, patience and generosity. The words in the Bible became so alive and spoke directly to her heart and she found that incidents that would have previously provoked jealousy, malice and unforgiveness were now drawing very Christ like reactions from her. She found this less easy when she later married a Sindhi Christian but as they both practiced the teachings of the Bible they found a depth of love for each other in which they were bound together in God’s grace and mercy. She looks forward to crossing the finish line together with her soul-mate and meeting their Savior face to face.

Likewise a housewife from Indonesia who was brought up to serve the Hindu gods came to faith in Jesus even though her parents would not allow her to attend church. My heart was touched very deeply as I read this description of her relationship with the Lord Jesus: “I would talk to God for many hours and I became very intimate in my relationship with Jesus. At times I would feel Him so close like He was holding my hands and walking with me and I would be filled with such unspeakable joy that I would sing love songs to Him with such adoration and intense devotion, Suddenly I would hear myself singing as if Jesus were responding to my love for Him. The book of Songs of Solomon became my favorite book and I found myself so deeply in love with Jesus that I would call Him my husband and my lover. It was at such intimate moments that God’s love would overwhelm me like a blanket.”

Watch the Video: A Sindh Film ‘Living the Christian Life’ 

This second edition of the book also includes a heart-warming testimony of an 87 year old lady called Bhagwanti. She had lost her husband in 2001 and her life had become very lonely, empty and meaningless. I felt sad reading how her health had deteriorated to the extent that she was wheelchair bound and in constant pain. She suffered a severe lateral stroke in December 2008 and her large family were preparing themselves for the worst. However, Christian members of her family and various Sindhi Christian ladies came to visit her in hospital and pray over her. They shared with her about Jesus and I rejoiced as I read how she yielded to Jesus as her Lord and Savior whilst in hospital. In time she was given a Sindhi New Testament, which she read avidly many times and it was a delight to read how God spoke to her through His word and strengthened her faith. She was baptized in December 2009 in a joyous celebration during which she spoke heartily about what the Lord had done for her. Having received her to Himself, our gracious Lord took her to her eternal home peacefully in 2010.

All the writers have come to know a God who has reached down to man and who wants a deep, intimate relationship with each one of us. We and many others around the world know God as our Father and closest friend who is with us through good times and bad and whom we know we shall go to be with forever when we die.

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Courtesy: South Asian Christians (Posted on August 6, 2022), Amazon, Christian Faith, Afternoon Voice, Open The Magazine and other websites.  

The post Sindhis Who Converted To Christianity first appeared on Sindh Courier.

ERUM QALBANI

The best gifts come from the heart, not the store. This is what Arab and Pakistani traditions are all about; we show our respect to our esteemed guests by presenting gifts that represent our culture.

Ajrak — from the Indus Valley tradition of Sindh, Pakistan, is one such item that has rich cultural value.

Ajrak is a block printed cloth with deep crimson red and indigo blue background, bearing symmetrical patterns with interspersed unprinted sparkling white motifs, mostly stars. Made of cotton, its suppleness reminds us of smooth silk. More than a fabric, ajrak is a Sindhi tradition, traceable from the earliest archaeological finds of the old Indus civilization of Mohen Jo-Dero. It has been equally popular since time immemorial till today among its urban, rural and nomad users.

Ajrak is literally used in Sindh (Pakistan) from the cradle to the grave. It is used as a hammock for infants, headgear for girls, bridal accessory, a turban and a shawl, a bed cover, a tablecloth, a gift item and a token of respect to honor a guest. Most of the heads of state and dignitaries of Pakistan have used ajrak in their public meetings to show respect and as a token of solidarity for Sindh Province.

To get a first-hand idea of how it is made we visited the small towns of Matyari, Bhit Shah and Hala located in and near Mityari District of Sindh Province in Pakistan. Bhit Shah is famous because of the great Sindhi mystic poet “Shah Abdul Latif Bhitai” whose famous poetic masterpiece “Shah Jo Risalo” occupies a very prominent place in Sindhi literature. A visit to Bhit Shah opens the door to “Sindhology,” the specialization of the Indus (Sindh) valley civilization, as “Egyptology’ is to the ancient Egyptian civilization.

Matyari is known for ajrak craftsmanship, whereas Hala town is the marketplace of all the handicrafts including ajrak, Sindhi embroidery, and lacquered woodwork, typical glazed tiles in blue and white “Kashi” artwork, terracotta and some typical woven fabrics like “Soosi’.

The urge to mention the stunning beauty of the scenic panorama along the highway during a drive from Karachi to these places is simply irresistible. The misty twilight, the wide stretches of green and yellow mustard fields in full bloom, attractive banana and mango plantations, and widespread lush green fields interspersed with working village girls dressed in luminescent yellow, green, crimson and orange colors with occasional colorful floral nurseries in full bloom are only a few glimpses of the tour.

The legendary Pakistani folk singer “Allan Faqir” with his down-to-earth personality was an inspiring artist with his stylish ajrak attire including his dancing peacock like turban made of ajrak.

Color is the continuous phase of the “music in the color emulsion” of Sindhi society.

The Muslim rulers used to award “Khilat” (an expensive gown) in recognition of the services of their courtiers. Similarly, Muslim Sindhi rulers also continued the tradition and awarded ajrak in recognition of outstanding performances or the valuable services rendered by individuals. It is customarily conferred even today on respectable guests.

Considering the different processes involved, particularly printing, which is the main element of the craft, ajrak-making seems to be a scientific art. The technique of printing allows exclusive absorption of a dye in the desired areas only and prevents absorption on the areas intended to be left uncolored. It seems to be like differential staining used in microscopy wherein different microbes are stained and fixed selectively.

The famous German orientalist Marry Anne Schimmel and Elsa Qazi, a well-known scholar translated Shah Jo-Risalo selectively in verse. Both scholars highlighted in their work the fact that ajrak was very much in use at least in Shah Latif Bhittai’s times. It is a pure spiritual delight to know how beautifully and finely Elsa Qazi captured its essence. Symbolic use of ajrak, camel, saltbush and washing etc. few of Elsa Qazi’s narrations are:

Like fresh pan-leaves are ajrak (shawls) they

Wear of shimmering emerald silk

Beautiful like roses sweet

Are robes of damsels fair?

(Elsa Qazi from Mumal and Rano)

There was a time when princely Hoat

My clothes to wash did choose;

Now even camel men refuse

To take me with themselves

My gown is at my shoulders torn;

Yet my head is covered with Ajrak

O sisters in Bhambore (Place in Pakistan) fair

What have I now to do?

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Courtesy: Arab News

The post Ajrak: A symbol of Sindhi culture and tradition first appeared on Sindh Courier.

By Saaz Aggarwal

Is there any country in the world that has no Sindhi in it? Perhaps – But the cover of this book has presumed to show every country in the world firmly occupied with symbols of Sindh and Sindhiness.

These images were kindly provided by the inimitable Sapna Moti Bhavnani, in the form of photographs of the tattoos on her body. They depict incidents she was told about life in Sindh, and her family’s experience of Partition.

One of their themes is ajrak, an icon of Sindh and Sindhiness.

Ajrak is the name given to a traditional block-printed design of Sindh used on fabric and tile, most often rendered in dark red and dark blue. In Sindh, it is a tradition to drape respected guests with cloths of ajrak, and this leads to a special reverence for ajrak as a design, and for specific ajraks gifted by revered people or special family members.

To drape the world map with ajrak is a nod to Murli’s community: the Sindhis who live in many places around the world and have integrated into local communities, speaking local languages, participating in local religious traditions, offering charity to the local underprivileged, and, to an extent, even intermarrying into the local community.

Watch the Video: Bootless but bound by ties

For more than a hundred and fifty years, members of this diasporic community have not hesitated to set sail and embark on voyages to new, often unknown, destinations to break into new markets, facing the resulting challenges with equanimity. The dynamic and intricate waves represent their brave and adventurous spirit – but also their essential interconnectedness in every aspect of business and lifestyle.

Sindh itself, the ancestral homeland of the Sindhis from which they were rudely dispatched in 1947, having lost not just all they had but even more than they could imagine, is seen here integrated into the countries of the world, a nod to a community that may have been uprooted but have retained ties that bind them to each other. Far away from Sindh, they remain proud to call themselves Sindhi, and resolutely clutch at tangible aspects of their ethnicity, even as their language and culture irretrievably drain away.

As for the diamond … aah, everyone knows about Sindhis and those things. In contemporary times, they are far more an icon of the diasporic Sindhi community than ajrak. And it was only fitting that, like the nearly-mother-in-law Mrs. Parnani in The Bhorwani Marriage, this cover should have “EVERYTHING”.

_________________

Courtesy: Saaz Aggarwal/ Sindh Stories

Saaz Aggarwal is an independent researcher, writer and artist based in Pune, India. Her body of writing includes biographies, translations, critical reviews and humour columns. Her books are in university libraries around the world, and much of her research contribution in the field of Sindh studies is easily accessible online. Her 2012 Sindh: Stories from a Vanished Homeland is an acknowledged classic. With an MSc from Mumbai University in 1982, Saaz taught undergraduate Mathematics at Ruparel College, Mumbai, for three years. After a career break when she had a baby, during which time she established a by-line as a humour writer, she was appointed features editor at Times of India, Mumbai, in 1989, where she launched Ascent, the highly successful HR pullout of the Times of India Group. From 1998 to 2006, she was HR and Quality Head of Seacom, an Information Technology company based in Pune. As an artist, she is recognized for her Bombay Clichés, quirky depictions of urban India in a traditional Indian folk style, as well as a unique range of offerings at the annual Art Mandai event in Pune. Her art incorporates a range of media and, like her columns, showcases the incongruities of daily life in India.

The post Packaging a Rainbow first appeared on Sindh Courier.

The Ajrak is my entry into this world, and yet my parents never mentioned it to me.

By Rita Kothari

How the absence of material culture in my inherited Sindhi identity, was filled by gifts from Sindhis in Pakistan and Kutchi Muslims

Two decades back, when I first saw a picture of Pakistani singer Abida Parveen wearing an Ajrakh and singing songs of Sufi poet Shah Abdul Latif, I had not known that this was part of my heritage. I come from a mercantile family of Sindhi Hindus who, after Partition, took to livelihood as their first priority. Conversations regarding what people wore or remnants of that history in cultural artefacts were few and far between. In fact, objects were referred to by their prices, rather than design, material or motifs. My mother often asks, “Tuhinji hua panj sau vaari dress kithe aahe (Where is that dress of yours that cost 500 rupees?”). The coarseness of this approach irked my teenage self and it took me some years to understand where this might have come from.

Thus, these connections between objects and my Sindhiness were marked by many years through absence and even disavowal. Also, when I was growing up (during the Eighties), we tried hard not to be identified as a Sindhi in Gujarat. It generated a perception of being “Muslim-like” in the minds of mainstream Gujaratis. The shiny clothes Sindhis staying in the refugee camps of Wadaj and Kubernagar wore, were for me an unpleasant association. Coupled with this, there was an absence of heirlooms at home. In fact, my family was determined about its detached relationship with objects that can and should be left behind when migration or death occurs.

I remember how empty my father’s cupboard became the moment he died. I stared at the empty spaces and mourned not having materials of memory. An ominous sense of transience characterized my life in those years and it took some time to situate that in both the present and past of my parents’ lives.

In fact, when I read Aanchal Malhotra’s book Remnants of Separation published last year I was reminded of how my journey has not been one of inheriting objects, but rather of creating one. The account below throws light on this phenomenon.

Then came a time when I made my first visit to Pakistan. I was welcomed with Sindhi Ajrakh, bestowed upon me with other embroidered pieces, pickles from Shikarpur and I returned to India laden with love and materials. Since then, my Sindhiness extended from being a place of lack and inadequacy to one of excess and celebration. In the intermittent years when I started to spend time in Banni, in Kutch this relationship became even stronger. The women of Banni made me wear their kanjris (embroidered tunics) and had a photograph of mine taken. Through these objects, I left feeling that my sense of Sindhiness now encompassed regions and religions and I could revel in being a subcontinental Sindhi, rather than the “adh-mussulman” (half Muslim) Sindhi of Gujarat.

While I was writing this piece in September, I attended the World Sindhi Congress (WSC) in London. This 31st session, like many others preceding it, laid out the marginalization and atrocities against Sindhis in Pakistan. As an Indian Sindhi, I felt protected and sheltered from the accounts I was listening to. Rather my generation is protected and sheltered. Our parents who crossed the border certainly faced worse adversities. As I sat there on the dais with the Sindhi Ajrakh around my neck, I felt one with Sindhi nationalists Dada Rochiram, Dada Khalique Junejo who had spent a lifetime working in Sindh. The Ajrakh is my entry into this world, and yet my parents never mentioned it to me. It’s quite possible that the Ajrakh rose from being a local symbol to a national badge in Sindh during the heydays of Sindhi nationalism. It’s also quite possible that around the same time Jhulelal, the river god worshipped by Sindhi Hindus rose from being a local symbol to a Brahma-like deity.

Be that as it may, our Sindhi worlds are both connected and divided. One of the attendees at the London Congress gave me a kurta with Sindhi embroidery. I looked at it longingly, knowing that this material connection with Sindh was now going to be mediated through people I met abroad. I would now be picking up my Ajrakh or kanjri from people who travel to me, instead of travelling myself to those places.

But the next moment, images of Niayamat and Sabia in Banni, both embroidery artisans float before my mind. In my mind’s eye I see them wearing mutwa and jat embroidery (community specific hand embroideries of Kutch), proudly displayed on their kanjris. I ask myself why did I think of Sindh ‘over there’ again? There are parts of Sindh next to me in Gujarat.

Today I flaunt my kanjri given to me by women of Banni, and the Ajrakh given to me by Sindhi nationalists. It is through these objects that I have filled the gap of my childhood. The remnants were missing, but they are now aplenty, just like the love that became available to me on both sides of the border. 

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Rita Kothari

Rita Kothari is a Sindhi author and academician who grew up in Gujarat. Her book ‘The Burden of Refuge: Sindhi Hindus in Gujarat’ pioneered the study of Partition in the context of Sindhis. ‘Unbordered Memories’ was an English translation of Sindhi stories while ‘Memories and Movements: Borders and Communities in Banni’, Kutch examines Banni and the Sindh imaginary among pastoralist communities.

Courtesy: The Voice of Fashion (Published on November 5, 2019)

The post My Sindhi Identity: Cloth and Culture first appeared on Sindh Courier.

Ajrak, a piece of cloth, and a verse of Sindhi poetry allow pastoralists in Gujarat to express a memory and yearning for Sindh. Although widely produced within Kutch itself, Ajrak from Sindh is more highly valued. There is a little Sindh in Kutch.

BY FARHANA IBRAHIM

A couple of years ago, while living and researching in Bhuj, the capital of Kutch District in Gujarat state, I became interested in purchasing some recorded qafis. This haunting poetic genre is originally from Sindh, but remains popular among the Muslim pastoralists of northern Kutch, sung in the wide expanses of the Great Rann of Kutch. Although Sindh is a mere 140 kilometers away from Bhuj, I had found few overt traces of the Pakistani province. The qafi, however, remains a rich source of regional, cross-border history for both Kutch and Sindh.

It seemed, however, that trans-border references were somewhat taboo in public, and none of the well-stocked music shops had what I was looking for. Finally, directed to a narrow lane of stalls tucked away behind the main market street, I found what I was looking for. Here were all kinds of smuggled and second-hand goods – leather, electronics, Islamic literature, cassettes of music and religious discourses, cloth and a myriad other sundries. Amidst tall stacks of cheap copies of music cassettes from popular Indian films, I also found an equally large selection of music from across the frontier – popular Pakistani singers singing in Urdu and Sindhi, some of whom were even born in Kutch, the shop owners said with pride. This narrow row of shops, in the heart of Bhuj and yet somewhat hidden, was a transformed space. Here, Kutch was no longer insulated from its historical linkages – Sindh thrived here, most notably in its folk music. But it was hidden away; one would not stumble upon these stalls or their wares unbidden.

As with goods, I found it remarkable how little Sindh came up for discussion in Kutch. Certainly, political oratory in Gujarat regularly refers to Pakistan. But it is generalizing and rhetorical, used to extract political mileage by advocates of right-wing Hindu nationalism – such as the representation of Islam, Pakistan and, by extension, Indian Muslims in general, as isomorphic and therefore ‘other’. Nowhere does one find reference to cultural traits that are shared in fact shared by Sindh and Kutch.

It is not difficult to understand why this is so. Classification and boundary-making, both real and epistemological, are at the heart of constructing identities. Modern territorial nation states are ideologically invested in imagining themselves to be territorially discrete and internally homogenous. After the separation of Pakistan in 1947, Kutch gained new significance as a strategic border territory; it lay on a newly defined boundary that needed to be naturalized and legitimized at all costs. In Kutch, and Gujarat more generally, this has been done through a relatively consistent ‘othering’ of Pakistan and Muslims within Gujarat, particularly pronounced after the 2002 anti-Muslim pogroms in the state. This has generated a peculiar ambivalence in Kutch about adjacent Sindh: they are immediate neighbors, they share historical and cultural ties, but they now lie across a problematic boundary.

The Jats are a semi-nomadic pastoral group that inhabited both sides of this border region before 1965. Prior to the present geopolitical reorganization of 1947, mobile groups like the Jats were involved in trade linking Kutch and Sindh and going as far as Punjab and Afghanistan. The Jat pastoralists would wander back and forth in search of fodder, particularly in times of drought. The border is now blocked and the Sindh pastures are only a memory, and yet Sindh remains present in the lives of the Jats in other ways.

The narratives of the Jats provide an interesting contrast to the manner in which Sindh is presented in the nationalist narratives of Gujarat. In particular, doth and poetry remain the condensed expressions of the cultural celebration of Sindh in the northern Kutch region of the Banni grasslands. Through cloth and poetry, the pastoral communities are able to express a desire for Sindh that cannot quite be articulated in the political realm.

All-purpose cloth

Ajrakh (Ajrak) is a type of block-printed cotton cloth common in both Sindh and Kutch, especially among the pastoralists. It is a ubiquitous, multipurpose wrap that can be tied as a turban or lungi, or used as a blanket or shawl. The cloth is worn mostly by Muslims, and is exchanged within groups that are entirely male and usually Muslim. The geometrical and abstract traditional designs often mirror those found in Indo-Islamic architecture. Although widely produced within Kutch itself, Ajrakh from Sindh is more highly valued.

Journeying through the Rann, Jats would frequently assert that they could not sleep at night unless they had an Ajrakh sheet with which to cover themselves – and only Ajrakh would do. In her 1990 Sindh Jo Ajrak, the textile historian Noorjehan Bilgrami writes of similar habits across the border in Sindh: “A Sindhi feels ill at ease without his Ajrak; for him it is an all-purpose cloth.” Jat men refer to Ajrakh as their “original” garb, even though today many of them have given up such turbans and waistcloths for modern wear, keeping the Ajrakh pieces for special occasions.

The name itself is thought to be derived from azrak, the term for ‘blue’ in Arabic and Persian, and indigo has remained the traditional dye used in Ajrakh printing. Grown in Sindh in vast quantities, indigo was a common dye for cotton cloth – used for clothing by all classes of Muslims – and was one of Sindh’s chief exports during the 19th century. Today, blue, red and white are the three colors typically found in Ajrakh patterns. In Kutch, the Khatris, a Muslim dyer community, specialize in Ajrakh printing. Ismail Khatri, a master printer and dyer, recounts how their ancestors were asked to come into Kutch from Sindh by the Maharao of Kutch during the 17th century.

The superior value ascribed to Sindhi Ajrakh by the Kutch Jats is an interesting comment on notions of cultural authenticity and value. It quickly becomes relatively easy to pick out unusual patterns and colors from across the border. Sindhi Ajrakh is produced on cloth that is first bleached a stark white, after which the chemically dyed colors appear much more vibrant than the hues on the Kutchi cloth, which are more muted and subtle. The quality of groundwater also makes a big difference to the final color tones.

The village of Dhamadka is the only place in Kutch that produces vegetable-dyed Ajrakh, where Ismail Khatri and his brothers produce their ancestral wares for national and international buyers. The 2001 earthquake nearly destroyed Dhamadka, forcing the surviving members of the Khatri family to relocate. The earthquake had changed the groundwater table in Dhamadka, with the water’s increased iron content preventing the Ajrakh colors from attaining their fullest potential.

Most of the men in Banni wear Ajrakh waist- and shoulder-cloths that appear to be from across the border. One day in a small town in western Kutch, a man wearing a particularly outstanding and unusually colored Ajrakh wrap responded abruptly when asked about its origin — “From here” he said, and walked away. Later, upon learning that my research assistant was a Khatri, the man quietly divulged that his wrap was from Pakistan.

The Sindhi Ajrakh, as a prized commodity among Muslims in Kutch, is illegally smuggled across the border. It is not only that the Sindhi Ajrakh is inherently superior, its value also seems linked to the social context of its production. It is valued over Ajrakh produced in Kutch precisely for the connections across the border. One Kutch resident who was interviewed insisted that no matter how hard one tried in Kutch, it was never possible to get the kind of Ajrakh that came from Sindh. “It is the whiteness of the star that is crucial,” he explained, referring to the image in the center of most traditional Ajrakh patterns. “Anyone who knows their Ajrakh will be able to tell a genuine [meaning Sindhi] one by looking at the white star.”

Infra-politics

A largely illiterate population, the Jats continue to excel in the recitation of gaffs, the classical poetry of Sindh. By far the most famous poet in the region is Shah Abdul Latif, of the Sindhi town of Bhit. The compositions of ‘Bhittai’ and others, still recited today, form an extensive body of oral-historical accounts of the region. Singing qafi and sher (verses) is considered central to the pastoralist ethos — a good way to pass time while grazing in the desert. The verses and their recitation also evoke the romantic image central to the ideal of the pastoral life as one of ease and independence. Well-known poets recite classical verse and compose new ones, keeping the traditional meter and verse style. Thus, traditionally composed narratives now recount the events related to the 2001 earthquake. These verses provide a wealth of information that makes up somewhat for the absence of historical or ethnographic research in the region.

Perhaps the most popular poetry is derived from the story of Sasui-Punu, a tragic love story and perhaps one of the more famous compositions by Shah Abdul Latif. In Sindh, Hindus and Muslims alike have identified with this poetic tale. Sasui’s (also known as Sassi) ceaseless wandering in search of her lover was one of the metaphors of exile used in early Sindhi Hindu literature following Partition and their move to India: “Wandering aimlessly like Sasui, / criss-crossing mountains and streams, / we shred our shoes …” wrote the Sindhi poet Parsuram Zia. More recently, Sasui has also been incorporated by ethnic nationalist forces as a regional Sindhi heroine in Pakistan.

Another popularly recited verse is related to Umar-Marvi, a folktale from the Thar region of Sindh. In a short poem called “Moti Mi” (heavy rain), Marai is a young girl from Sindh, held captive by Umar. In some versions, she falls in love with her captor; in others, she is already in love with Umar and is abducted by an evil king, Hamir Sumra. In “Moti Mi”, she details the arrival of the rains in her hometown of Malir. “It has rained; the trees are in bloom and the fruit is ripe for picking; my friends are in the gardens waiting for me to pick the fruit with them; please let me go,” she pleads with her captor. This narrative is rich and evocative of the landscape of lower Sindh, and of the welcome arrival of the rains. The remembered landscape is one that richly belongs in Sindh.

Stories like these are narrated and sung in everyday contexts in Banni today. They address the proximity of Sindh in a manner quite different from the way in which the official regional narratives have chosen to do. In an analysis of Bedouin poetry, Middle Eastern scholar Lila Abu-Lughod argues that a “discourse on sentiment” can also be a “discourse of defiance” when poetic narratives from the grassroots contradict the systems that are defined from the authorities.

For those links with a trans-border territory that cannot be freely expressed in the everyday political context, traditional recitations and attachment to cloth have become a way in which the ‘system’ can be critiqued. This is what is referred to as ‘infra-politics’. Among the Jats of northern Kutch, the past is not a rupture, but instead flows into the present through specific tropes. Poetry and Ajrakh become ways to bring Sindh into their daily lives — integrated into the present in ways that are always and already there. This form of cultural flow, across a boundary line that is officially presented as discrete and impermeable, provides an interesting twist to the collective imagination of a region. The appreciation of qafi verses and Ajrakh on the Gujarat side of the border indicate that the Jats’ subjective experience of a region encompasses both Sindh and Kutch. The Jats embrace Sindh as intimately as it is rejected in the discourse of Gujarati nationalism.

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Courtesy: Himal Magazine

Photo Courtesy: The Voice of Fashion 

The post Sindh and Kutch, Cloth and Verse first appeared on Sindh Courier.

The craft was practiced by the Khatri community, living in the banks of river Sindh. These families migrated to Kutch from Sindh in the 16th century. Another account of history says that invasions led the Khatris to migrate en masse from Sindh to Katchch. There are both Hindus and Muslims among the Khatris.

As you walk down the dusty path towards the village of Ajrakhpur in Katchch, about 8 km from Bhuj off the main Bhuj Bhachau highway, you begin to hear the sound of the craft that this village is famous for, indeed the name itself was derived from the name of its craft – ‘place of Ajrakh’ (Ajrak). You hear the whacking of meters and meters of wet cloth against the sides of the huge stone water tanks, and as you get closer to the workshops you hear the constant ‘thump – thump’ sound of the wooden block being stamped with force onto the table echoing through the workshop, the beating heart of the village.  Then you see long pieces of dyed cloth in indigo, madder red, yellow, drying out in the sun stretching across the dry grass land into the distance. These are the sounds and sights that show the craft is still going strong. Despite environmental disasters, the widespread industrialization of the twentieth century and the changing political regimes, the traditional craft of Ajrakh, its long and skilled process and complex geometric designs have survived.

Key figure in preservation of Ajrakh

A key figure in this preservation of Ajrakh is the late Khatri Mohammed Siddique, who realized the new emerging markets for hand-crafted textiles in the 1970s. He revitalized the traditional use of natural dyes when realizing their appeal among Western markets, and passed the knowledge onto his three sons Ismail, Razzaq and Jabba. Mohammed Siddique was supported by the Gujarat Handicrafts Development Cooperation, a strand of the government’s initiative to revive India’s handicrafts after independence. Subsequently, various NGOs, textile companies and individual designers have supported the revival and continuation of the region’s traditional crafts.

More recently, a new approach has been taken to enable and encourage local artisans to work directly with their markets and become entrepreneurs and designers in their own right. Kala Raksha Vidhyalaya (KRV) opened in 2005 and since has had 136 graduates. Out of these, fifteen have been block printing artisans, and most are successfully innovating for a ready urban and international market.  A new school has recently been founded by KRV founder Judy Frater, Somaiya Kala Vidya (SKV) based in Adipur southern Katchch. SKV aims to continue to focus on design education but also incorporate a strong business and marketing curriculum.

The Khatris in Ajrakhpur and Dhamadka learn block printing from their fathers at the age of between ten and fifteen when they finish school. Often they are also natural entrepreneurs. With the marketing and contemporary design skills added, their opportunities are vast. These villages today are buzzing with new ideas and creativity.

Ismail Mohammed Siddique was a key figure in the relief efforts after the devastating earthquake of 2001 that destroyed much of the village of Dhamadka which has been a center for Ajrakh printing for centuries. He helped to build Ajrakhpur as a new place to rehabilitate the communities and the craft. Ismail’s family’s success has grown and grown over the years and they are continually having to seek out new land to build larger workshop and dying space. Ismail also helped to teach others the craft, and his success has spread to many other Khatri families too.

Ismail Khatri bestowed with honorary Doctorate

A PhD scholar called Eiluned Edwards visited Ismail Khatri in the context of studying textiles in India. Khatri, who was educated only up to Standard 7, agreed to meet her, hoping to try and speak in English with her. He responded to the questions she asked. The lady in question cleared her PhD, and in 2003 Khatri was invited by the De Montfort University in Leicester to talk on the art of Ajrakh. After his talk the University bestowed him with an Honorary Doctorate. Bewildered by why people were applauding him, he asked the person next to him, who turned out to be the Pro-Vice Chancellor of the University. He was told that he had been accorded the University’s highest degree. To which he said: “But I haven’t studied in your University!” He was then told that he had taught the students of the University much more. And that’s how Ismail Khatri became Dr. Ismail Khatri!

Watch the video about Dr. Ismail Khatri 

One of Ismail’s sons, and three of his nephews (living in Dhamadka), have graduated from KRV and are contributing to the family’s success with new innovations. Khatri Junaid Ismail sold his whole KRV collection during the graduate exhibition. He experimented with different combinations of blocks and placement of color. He added new colors to traditional designs. His final collection was based on the theme of kudrat – life and creation.

Junaid and his brother Sufiyan continue to innovate within their tradition, creating diverse compositions, new combinations of techniques, materials and color combinations.

Khatri Khalid Amin returned to work as a block printer with his uncle after trying out sales work in Mumbai and disliking it. He attended KRV at the advice of Ismail, and his final collection included some expressive abstract pieces that combined the tight geometric Ajrakh prints with lively brush strokes and different textures. He has become well known throughout the urban and visiting foreign textiles and art community. His dupattas and stoles travelled to Manchester, UK for an exhibition at the Platt Hall costume gallery, and some were also featured in the 2011 edition of Wallpaper magazine.

Khatri Irfan Anwar won an award for ‘most marketable’ collection at KRV. He is now an advisor on the new SKV course. His current innovations include large scale geometric designs with the dense detailed traditional Ajrakh embedded within. Thus, the traditional designs are still being used but in a very different way.

A current trend among the dyed and printed textiles in Kutch is combining Japanese shibori or local bandhani (tie-dye) techniques with block printing which produces a rich textural effect. It therefore showcases local and imported traditional techniques in a contemporary, innovative way. Each bandhani and block printing artisan employing these techniques has their own approach, so each piece is different and fresh.

In the face of climate change and globalization, there is a rising trend for all things hand-made, eco-friendly and an awareness of a product’s origin and culture. Such trends and awareness are sustaining the Khatris’ livelihoods and helping to preserve their long standing heritage. Let’s hope these are not just fleeting fashions and that the Khatris will continue to provide the world with a fascination for highly skilled, hand-crafted textiles for many generations to come.

The creation of Ajrakhpur

In the late eighties, the river Saran dried up because of the construction of a dam upstream. This affected the craft where copious quantities of running water were an essential requirement. The second disaster struck in 2001 when the earthquake at Bhuj left many families devastated. A new problem arose. The iron content in water increased after the earthquake which affected the color of dyes. A number of craftsmen shifted to chemical dyes instead of natural dyes. As expected, use of chemical dyes led to skin and other health problems. Seeing the impact of these practices on the art of Ajrakh, the community started looking for a new place around 40 km from Dhamadka, which had better water sources.

With the help and support of voluntary organizations, led by Ismail Khatri, almost 80 families of artisans bought land and shifted to this new village which was then named Ajrakhpur. The proximity to Bhuj ensured better facilities such as healthcare, education for their children, and business. Today almost every family in this craft village is engaged in Ajrakh printing, and you can see dyed cloth drying outside their houses.

History of Ajrakh

Ajrakh is an ancient block-printing method on textiles that originated in the present day province of Sindh in Pakistan. The creation of vibrant, colorfast, cotton printing may date back as far as four millennia. There is a tantalizing similarity between the trefoil garment pattern found on a figurine recovered at Mohenjo Daro and a cloud pattern still used by block print artists working in Sindh and western India today. The shawl on the shoulder of this familiar bearded man bust from Mohenjo Daro perhaps has an Ajrakh motif called kakkar (cloud pattern), familiar to Ajrakh artists.

Archaeological evidence suggests that for thousands of years Ajrakh artisans were located near the banks of the Indus River. The river provided both a site for washing cloth and the water needed to grow indigo. With the partition of India and Pakistan in 1947, artisan communities were tragically separated. Today the craft continues with variations on both sides of the border. Indian artisans are centered in Gujarat with most communities living in the Kachchh desert.

Ajrakh carries many meanings. A popular story among locals is that Ajrakh means “aaj rakh” or “keep it today.” It is also associated with azrakh, the Arabic word for indigo, a blue plant which thrived in the arid ecology of Kachchh. The craft was practiced by the Khatri community, living in the banks of river Sindh. These families migrated to Katchch from Sindh in the 16th century. Another account of history says that invasions led the Khatris to migrate en masse from Sindh to Kutch (Anjar and Dhamadka villages). There are both Hindus and Muslims among the Khatris. The present clan of artisans was led by their forefather Jinda Jeeva to Dhamadka village in 1650, where Rao Bharmal-I, the Raja of Kutch patronized their craft. Making Ajrakh needed a constant supply of running water to remove the excess dye, and Dhamadka was chosen as it had the river Saran flowing by.

In 2001 a devastating earthquake severely damaged Bhuj, Dhamadka and other villages and towns all over the Kachchh region. In the wake of this tragedy, the Khatris were brought closer together and a new village was created to rebuild their lives and their craft production, aptly named Ajrakhpur (‘place of Ajrakh’).

How is Ajrakh made?

Ajrakh can be printed on a variety of fabric including cotton, linen, wool and silk (tussar, crepe, georgette, chiffon) The process of Ajrakh printing involves 14-16 stages.

Ajrakh block printing follows a lengthy and demanding process. Printers prepare fabric for printing by tearing un-dyed fabric into 9 meter lengths. Authentic Ajrakh is printed on both sides by a method called resist printing. The printing is done by hand with hand carved wooden blocks. Several different blocks are used to give the characteristic repeated patterning. Artisans select a wooden block from their collection of blocks carved with traditional designs. The constant sound of the wooden block being stamped with force onto the table echoes in the workshop and sounds almost like a heart beating. It is the sound that the craft is still going strong.

What makes Ajrakh unique?

The Khatris themselves never wore block printed fabric. They produced Ajrakh traditionally for the Maldharis or cattle herders like the Ahirs or Rabaaris in the desert regions of Katchch and Thar. The colors are bright and vivid, so that the herders do not lose their way in the white desert sands. These geometric prints were usually seen in the pagdis (turbans), cummerbands, chaddars, dupattas, lungis and shawls used by the Katchchi community.

Every caste wore distinctive designs and Ajrakh is part of their cultural legacy. It is said that cattle herders would leave their homes in the dark, before the sun rose and there was no electricity in those times. So they couldn’t distinguish between the front and the reverse side of the fabric. Double-sided printing ensured that they could wear it both ways.

What are the threats to the Ajrakh industry?

Water shortage in Gujarat and Rajasthan, which are affected by drought hamper the dyeing and printing process. Each step of the block printing art is manual. It needs not only skill but also patience to perfect this art. There are between 14-16 different steps in dyeing and printing, and each piece takes 14-21 days to complete. The screen printing industry makes cheap copies of their unique designs for a fraction of the cost. This undermines the market for these handmade products. The other issue is that of exacting perfection expected of these craftsmen. Since this is a completely manual process, and natural dyes are used, there are bound to be slight variations in the shades of the dye when large quantities of fabric are dyed. When these are rejected by the buyers, it causes distress to these craftsmen.

Watch a video about Ajrakhpur and Khatri community 

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Watch the video about Ajrak Making

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In the last few decades, the artisans of Ajrakhpur have successfully managed to transform the everyday dress of the local cattle herders into a fashion fabric. When it isn’t used as sarees, stoles, dupattas or kurtas, the patches make their way into colorful quilts. The key to the resurrection of local crafts and keeping it alive perhaps lies here: by adapting to the times.

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Sources: Strand of Silk, Amounee, Maiwa, Dr. Anshu Blog, Maverick Bird and other websites 

The post Ajrakhpur Village– Hub of Ajrak Industry in Katchch first appeared on Sindh Courier.