Delhi

Year 2022

After a long anticipation, it is pouring outside today in Delhi, there is a very joyous atmosphere in the living room of Panchajanya’s house at Chittaranjan Park of this rain-soaked city.

Dadu shouts to his daughter in law i.e. to Panchjanya’s mother, “Bouma (affectionate address to in laws daughter), hurry up, serve the dinner as early as possible, we will leave for Jaisalmer by 10 pm. Hey, Dadubhai, when will Mithila come?  Chadha sir just called, they will reach in two minutes.”

Dadu jokingly looked at Nomesh Gopalani and said, “I will call you as Sabirbhai, okay?”

Nomesh Gopalani raised his hand and laughed in agreement. At that time, a car stopped outside the house, grandpa heard the sound and stood up and said, “Dadubhai, Mithila has arrived. Bauma, blow ulu  (ceremonial auspicious sound), our mother goddess Lakshmi is going to step into this house for the first time. Panchajanya’s mother said teasingly, “Why do you keep the conch shell left, let’s bring that too and blow it father.” Panchjanya opened the door, he saw Chadha sir. Dadu peeks in to see Mithila from the side. Chadda Sir and Haider entered the house laughing, followed by Mrs. Chadda, and finally Mithila. Dadu was excited to see Mithila and said, “Now I have found my daughter, come my daughter, let me hold your hand. Mithila is very placid in nature but she is emotional too. Dadu was speaking in Hindi, so she could comprehend his expression, her eyes filled with tears. As Dadu held her hands, she could no longer control her tears.

She remembered her Buddha baba. She placed her head on grandfather’s chest and started crying. Dadu also started crying. He said crying, “Granddaughter, I was unable to save my two sisters, I was their younger brother. So God sent my grandson to Pakistan to rescue you. All your sad days are over, look, I’m all ready, tonight we’ll be on our way to Jaisalmer, and there I will ask you from your family forever.”

Finding out the situation was getting very gloomy, Panchjanya’s father started blowing the auspicious conch shell and his mother accompanied him with ulu sound and said, “Uff, enough, there has been lot of crying, baba, now let the girl enjoy a little. Mithila, I made coffee for all of you, I was told by my son that Mr. Chadha loves cauliflower pakoras, so today I prepared cauliflower pakoras. Let’s all talk while eating. Panchjanya and Nomesh Gopalani brought pakoras and coffee on a tray and placed the tray on the table. It is raining outside and the living room is filled with the aroma of coffee and pakoras.

Panchjanya’s father has started to play the record of Santoor by Pandit Shiv Kumar Sharma very softly. “How mesmerizing the environment around…” said Nomesh Gopalani as he sipped his coffee, “…feeling very relieved after a long time. But now the moment has come to discuss how this operation ‘Maharaja Dahirsen’ was done so well, it will be very healthy if we all share our own experience about how we have fulfilled each responsibility properly, then the whole matter will be clear. Chadha sir, you first open the Pandora’s box.”

Chadha Sir started, “the first phase of this operation had been started since Panchajanya get acquaintance with Abu Talib and the dairy of Surya Devi reached into his hand. We have had news for a long time that a Syrian businessman was supplying arms to Pakistan’s spy agencies and Islamic militant groups throughout Central Asia. Gradually his name and identity was cracked by us. While searching about his secret dossier we find out that he has a hobby of collecting ancient archaeological objects. Meanwhile we are informed that Maharaja Dahirsen used to write diaries, about which a puzzle has been extracted from the palace of one of his dignitaries. We came to know that China has been searching for this diary in Pakistan. If this diary goes in hand of China, they would auction it at a very high price. We suspected correctly that this responsibility would somehow be given to Abu Talib. Because this gentleman has become a very reliable person in Central Asia including Pakistan during these few years. We wanted to hit two birds with one arrow. One to kill Abu Talib and his associates and 2nd to recover the diary of Maharaja Dahirsen. Because the honour of our country is associated with him, we will never let him to be auctioned. Moreover, at this moment the Sindh Desh movement has also reached to its saturation. By the information coming to us from there, we felt that there were many people associated with Abu Talib who were involved in drug trade, trafficking of Hindu women and forced conversions in Sindh province. We wanted to end them together. Moreover, Basir Ahmed was our long time target. I saw the horribly mutilated body of Captain Kalia. How brutally he was killed!

Dadu said, “I got it, a Chakravyuh (death maze) was organized in Pakistan, to complete that this mission is designed. Right?”

—Yes, that’s right. Panchajanya messaged me one day that fifteen Islamic State militants were being sent from Syria to Sindh province. So accommodation and jobs should be arranged for them. We have many agents in Pakistan, using them I arranged accommodations and jobs for them. I wanted to know the purpose of their arrival, so hidden cameras and speakers were placed where they would stay before their arrival. The cameras and speakers were placed in such secret places that they couldn’t even find it. All the meetings and discussions happened in that room everything was known to us. Besides, one of our agents is Mithila’s sister Sanghamitra, she inserted a chip into the mobile phone of one of the conspirators named Ahmed, and so we could know everything that was discussed on Ahmed’s mobile phone. Panchajanya himself inserted a similar chip in Abu Talib’s mobile in the same way, and placed a hidden camera in Basir Ahmed’s house. So we had no difficulty in tracking them. From these secret conversations, we learned that the four human bombs will be sent to India and the bombs will be surgically implanted in their bodies, so that the detecting machines cannot even catch them, exactly similar way how al Qaeda attacks with human bombs. Meanwhile, my son Haider reached Pakistan.

Next we came to know about a madrasa in Tharparkar where helpless, orphaned Hindu children are brainwashed into human bombs. Haider entered there with a great acting skill and convinced them that he was set to be a human bomb to destroy India.

Haider was older than the others and mentally very mature, so as usual they chose him for this particular attack.

Dadu said with great curiosity, who are those ‘they’?

‘They’ means the Pakistani spy agency. But the persons who were directly involved with this particular attack primarily are Abu Talib, Ahmed, Sarfarosh and Basir. These Sarfarosh and Ahmed worked together to abduct and convert girls from all over Sindh province, then Nikah of the girls were organized in front of the media, only to be trafficked after a few months, as was done with Mithila. This Ahmed also tried to use Mithila’s sister Sanghamitra, but Sanghamitra very heroically plotted Ahmed’s doom.

Through our hidden cameras and various devices we found out that a doctor in a hospital in Tharparkar will be going to plant all these bombs in the human body. Accordingly we target that doctor in Tharparkar, we also have our agents in the administration, army and in the police force in Pakistan. We got information through them that this doctor has been running organ trafficking business in Tharparkar area for a long time. With several proofs, our agents start blackmailing the doctor. That’s how we got him on track.

From where the foods for the Islamic State militants has been arranged, we mixed a certain drug in the meal of one of those fifteen which would cause terrible stomach aches. After eating that food, one of them starts getting extreme stomach-ache. Immediately he was admitted to Tharparkar Hospital. There, the bomb that was supposed to be implanted in Sanghamitra’s body was neatly implanted in the militant’s body and Sanghamitra was discharged after an operation on her appendix. When Haider was taken to the doctor, Haider was also operated on appendix. And the bomb that was supposed to be placed on Haider’s body was carefully hidden under the sand behind the house of Maulvi saheb of the madrasa where the goats are tied. All this was done in the dark of night without the knowledge of Maulvi sahib. Mithila was also rescued in the same way. The case regarding Mithila was overseen by Nomeshji. Mithila, tell us about your experience.

—That day I also went to the hospital with Basir Ahmed. I was sitting on a hospital bench when a burka clad woman approached me, and I don’t remember what happened next. When I regained consciousness I felt incredible pain in my stomach. Then I felt that I was doomed.

Thinking all these mentally I was suffering a lot , then a staff nurse approached me to push an injection and assured me that I should not be afraid, everything is fine. The nurse left and I fell asleep. Then Basir Ahmed and I returned to the bungalow together after recovering.

Dadu raised his hand and stopped Mithila and said, “it’s okay, you don’t have to say those things again.”

Panchjanya asked, “Sir, how did you reach Pakistan?”

—Those who were appointed to train those 15 militants were all local people. They were involved in the trade of leather if cows, they used to make and sell various beautiful objects made of leather. We send one of our men to them who offered them comparatively a large sum of money, in return for which they will make several goods of leather, which will be sent to Italy. Italy is now number one in leather business in the whole world, they buy good quality leather goods from these poor countries at a very low price and sell them under their brand names. They fell into our trap, to produce a large quantity of products in a short period of time, they have to work day and night, so they stopped giving training and solely started doing leather work. An official of the local administration took some of us to them one day and told them that we were from Afghanistan. We worked for Mujahideen for a long time, here we seek refuge for a few days. They can’t disbelieve us at all after seeing our pictures, they took some tests and we passed as usual, then we are assigned as trainers.

Panchajanya said, “in fact, refugees from all over the world are now being sheltered in Sindh province, so no one has any doubts about these matters. Moreover, people in Pakistan have absolutely no responsibility towards their own country, they can do whatever they want for money. That’s why we can work there without much hindrance.

Nomesh Gopalani added, “Moreover, the financial condition is at its verge, people are fighting for food items standing in the queue ration in Sindh province, mothers are selling their children for hunger. After a few years there will be no country called Pakistan anymore, Balochistan, Sindh, Gilgit, North Eastern Province all will declare independence.

Dadu became emotional and said, “Karma is inevitable, what they have done to Bangladesh! My family was a victim of that terrible day, I still can’t forget it!

Panchajanya tried to turn the conversation, “Sir, what about the diary of Maharaja Dahir and Surya Devi?”

—I have handed over these two documents to the Asiatic Society. Now they are looking at this. Hopefully, a new history will be written about this in the future.

—Papa, I don’t understand one thing, how did these two doctors die? And that night when you and I were loading those bodies in the truck, where were our other agents gone?

— Look, we have to eliminate a lot of evidence before completing any mission. Our other agents were covering that. The success of our next mission depends on the successful completion of this removal. And behind the death of the two doctors, there is contribution of a modern highly equipped weapon–A small pen. While talking to the target just by pressing the switch on the back of the pen causes a invisible light beam which falls on the target’s chest causing his heart to stop functioning within moments, in these cases we do no leave any proof. People can suspect anything, but no proof will come to them. This is how Mission Maharaja Dahirsen has been accomplished.

Dadu said, “There is still one more task to be done, only then, this mission will be completed.”

Chadha sir said, “I feel a great desire to meet Sanghamitra, I also want to know all the other members of the family that gave birth to two such brave girls.”

After having dinner, they all started for Jaishalmer. Three vehicles left for Jaisalmer that day. Panchjanya’s father, grandfather, mother and their driver were in one car. Mr. Chadha, Mrs. Chadha and Haider were in another car, this car was being driven by Mr. Chadha himself. And in another car, Nomesh Gopalani who himself was driving and Panchjanya and Mithila, they were sitting side by side on the back seat.

Nomesh Gopalani says, “When I drive, I don’t feel what is happening inside the car, I keep my whole mind outside the car. So you can talk to each other without worrying.

They laughed hearing Nomesh Bhai. Panchjanya held Mithila’s hand and said, “Mithila, I have told everything about you in my house. Our entire family was wiped out by these Khan soldiers. My Dadu thinks that her two sisters are reincarnated as Mithila and Sanghamitra. He sincerely believes that our meeting is all predestined. If our two hands get united by God’s will, the souls of his family members will find peace, they will be liberated forever.

—Panchajanya, I myself want to forget everything that happened in the previous chapter of my life. My buddha baba used to say—God delivers so much pain to make people strong and sophisticated. A man becomes a diamond by going through various adversities. I am ready to start all over from now on. By God’s blessings I got your family, Mrs. Chadha says she has two sons, so having me as daughter her wish has been fulfilled, and after some time I am going to meet my family. While staying with Basir Ahmed I desired a family life so badly, I thought it was foolish of me to want such a life. But look what a big family God presented me with you everything.

—And the biggest thing is that I don’t have a long meeting or a long acquaintance with you in that sense. But the feeling I sensed seeing you was never felt for any other girl before. Grandpa may be right. Everything is God’s will.

—You do theatre, right?

—Yes, I do theatre in Bapida’s troupe. From the stage of theatre I came in this path.

Nomesh Gopalani said with a smile, “Those who came to this path from theatre group all are basically directed by Bapida.”

—Yes, I had a doubt from the beginning, now I am confirmed from you.

—We have many such agents who deliver us the right kind of people. Now, you will see that Bapida will not even keep in touch with you. Such instructions are on him, so that no one has any doubts. You will see that someone else is playing the role you used to play in his direction.

Panchajanya doesn’t want to think about Bapida anymore, he thinks about Mithila, he starts imagining the moment when Mithila will be reunited with her family after so many years. On the other hand, Mithila is thinking, will her family accept her now? In the conservative society of Sindh, girls like them are called spoiled girls, stigmatized by society and family. Knowing everything, Panchjanya’s family giving her place in their family as the wife of their only child, such a generous mentality may be seen in Bengalis, thinking about all this, she controlled her mind, she thought if her family wouldn’t accept her then there is no problem, she has made a decision for herself, reaching Jaisalmir she will disclose that before everyone. Thinking all these, she fell asleep. In sleep she receives a secured shoulder and a soft sensible touch of a hand and goes into deep sleep.

Far away in the middle of the desert, the sun is rising, the camels on either side of the road have started their daily activities. As Nomesh Gopalani rolled down the car window, a mixed smell of desert and camel entered the car. Both Nomeshji and Mithila are Sindhis, so Nomeshji said in Sindhi language, wake up Mithila, the soil here also smells of Sindh. We already have entered into your ancestral village, and will reach their house in a little while.

Mithila blinked and looked outside and took a deep breath of peace.

Blowing the dust the car entered a village, flanked by yellow stone houses on both sides. Women are washing the front of the house with water veiling themselves up to neck. An old man was standing on the side of the road, Chadha sir stopped the car there and asked something to the old man, the old man directed somewhere with his hand. Then the car started moving again. Some distance away, in front of a house called Ramkunj, Chadha sir stopped the car and came out to see a woman; she was sweeping water in front of the house. The woman let him wait outside and went inside. By that time, Mithila got down from the car and stood next to Chadha sir. Because this is the moment she has waited with bated breath for, whether her family will accept her needs to be clarified quickly. In no time Mithila’s Bapu and Sanghamitra came out of the house. Seeing her Mithila’s Bapu started crying, he was crying with Mithila’s name, then he opens her hands wide enough  while crying, Mithila could no more control herself, she ran and started crying on her father’s chest, everyone watched this scene of father and daughter’s reunion with full heart. Sanghamitra was crying standing behind her father. Mehboob’s words came true. She was mentally prepared for this moment, but didn’t say anything to give her family a big surprise.

Chadha sir noticed Sanghamitra and said, “You are Sanghamitra, aren’t you?”

Sanghamitra nodded in agreement. At this moment Buddha baba came out of the house. Buddha baba looked at Sanghamitra and said, “I heard that Mithila has arrived, where Mithila is?”

Hearing the voice of the old man, Mithila said, “Buddha baba, after how long I heard your voice.” Buddha baba pulled Mithila to his chest and kept crying. When this family got their lost daughter back after such a long time, Panchjanya’s grandfather got down from the car and put his hand on the shoulder of Mithila’s Buddha baba and said, “ enough of crying, now let’s go inside, we have to fix the auspicious day.”

Buddha baba doesn’t understand Hindi, he stands awfully without understanding anything.

Then Nomesh Gopalani came forward and explained to him in Sindhi language

Without waiting to understand everything, he holds the hand of Panchjanya’s grandfather’s hand and take him inside. He is also very happy having a new friend at his old age. Everyone else followed them.

But Panchajanya, Mithila and Sanghamitra walked towards the desert, the sun shining on the desert projected all around with golden shade. They are three people sitting in the desert looking at the distant wilderness. Mithila introduced them on the way. After sharing all their experiences with each other while sitting they feel that somewhere they are connected with the same thread.  Panchajanya is getting peculiar resemblance of Maharaja Dahirsen with his family. It seems to him that several characters from the soil of Sindh of thousand years ago have risen up again from the soil of today’s Bharat. He saw himself as Jayasingh, Mithila as Surya Devi and Sanghamitra as Parimal Devi. At that time Maharaja Dahir could not save Sindh country, but his grandfather broke this invisible chain and united Sindh and Hind. Driven by his grandfather’s wisdom, he saved his motherland from such a big conspiracy, and was able to return their lost daughter to a family. Panchajanya was thinking all these, while Mithila said, “I will work for Chadha sir again, if necessary I will go to Pakistan again.” Sanghamitra said, “Didi, we have to move the Sindhu Desh movement forward. By fleeing this way, we have demonstrated our selfishness. No more, staying here, we have to help Mehboob.” Mithila said, “Absolutely, mother Sindhu is not well, if one Basir Ahmed dies, thousands are born, so we have to save our mother from them. Panchjanya will you be with us?”

Panchjanya said, “I know that until Sindh becomes independent, Maharaja Dahir’s soul will not rest. By any means, the Sindh movement should be taken forward.”

At such a time someone said from behind,— Jai Sindh Jai Hind. They looked back and saw Haider is standing.

Panchajanya jokingly said, “that’s called a spy, have come here following us.”

—Yes, your wedding day is being fixed there, elders are all talking, tell me what I would do there, so I left.

Haider came and sat next to Sanghamitra. This village is located right on the India Pakistan border, barbed wire can be seen in the distance, inside the barbed wire the Indian flag is flattering, a flock of white birds flew in front of that. They are looking at it. Like the hidden flow of river Saraswati through the desert, the currents of thousands of years ongoing Sindhu Desh movement between India and Pakistan grew stronger and stronger. As if the entire sky beyond the barbed wire get enveloped with thousands and thousands of red flags engraved with symbol Axe. It seemed from the other side of the barbed wire a voice is emerging out with unison, ‘We want Sindhu Desh.’ (Concludes)

Click here for Part-I , Part-II, Part-III , Part-IV , Part-V , Part-VI , Part-VII, Part-VIII , Part-IX , Part-X, Part-XI, Part-XII, Part-XIII , Part-XIV , Part-XV , Part-XVI, Part-XVII, Part-XVIII , Part-XIX, Part-XX, Part-XXI , Part-XXII, Part-XXIII , Part-XXIV , Part-XXV , Part-XXVI, Part-XXVII, Part-XXVIII, Part-XXIX, Part-XXX , Part-XXXI, Part-XXXII, Part-XXXIII , Part-XXXIV , Part-XXXV , Part-XXXVI , Part-XXXVII , Part-XXXVIII, Part-XXXIX, Part-XL , #Part-XLI , Part-XLII , Part-XLIII , Part-XLIV, Part-XLV , Part-XLVI , Part- XLVII , Part-XLVIII , Part-XLIX, Part-L , Part-LI , Part-LII 

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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 post Maharaja Dahir – Resurgence of Sindh – Part-LIII first appeared on Sindh Courier.

India, Pakistan

Year 2021

It’s a few minutes to eleven o’clock in the morning. A taxi stopped in front of the All India Institute of Medical Sciences in Delhi. There was police security deployed here, unlike other regular days. Mithila got down from that taxi wearing green salwar kameez and black sunglasses. Mithila was accompanied by the driver from Attari Border. The driver once paid a casual attention on the Delhi Police officials from the car. Then he looked at his wrist watch and indicated Mithila to go inside.

The driver, dressed in black costume, stood outside the gate and started checking time. Police officers are on duty on one side; all those entering the Institute of Medical Sciences are thoroughly checked and then they let them in. Mithila was taken to one side by the lady police in front of the gate and checked comprehensively and let her in. Meanwhile, the person with black kurta-pajama was standing right next to them, but they did not even notice him. No one even asked why he was standing there.

When the security check was done, the policewoman handed mobile phone and told Mithila to wait for the call on mobile. She knows where she has to go; so many eyes all around are watching her, yet when she received the mobile phone in her hand, she realized that she is very safe now. After arriving Delhi, she stayed with a Muslim family in the alleys of Chandni Chowk, Old Delhi. This driver introduced himself as the cousin brother of the jagirdar of Tharparkar.

From this family she learns that Sarfarosh’s family left for Pakistan during partition, but they stayed here. They are also heavily involved with Pakistan residing in this country. Many Pakistanis come to India for treatment purpose and stay with them and then leave. Mithila remembers the way to that house in Chandni Chowk very well; she will tell it in due time. Now she slowly moves towards a chair, takes seat and starts waiting. There is a large gathering of people here; they have come from different parts of India to get treatment. People of all ages from infant to old, all are here. They are conversing with so many different languages. Mithila silently looks at the clock and finds out that she has to wait for five more minutes, and then she would be freed from a curse forever.

When Mithila has been waiting outside, Sanghamitra boarded the Jaisalmer-bound train from Ahmedabad station with her family. There was heavy presence of police security around the station; all suitcases, sacks of passengers are being checked very carefully. After five minutes their train will depart. Buddha Baba and his elder brother are sitting face to face on the passage seat and talking continuously. They have been talking continuously since they met. From the India-Pakistan border to the hotel in Ahmedabad, they talked; in the morning when we got up Bapu was saying that they laid side by side and talked till midnight holding each other’s hands. They are sharing all their memories with each other since their birth. At times, tears flow in the eyes of both of them when they talk about sadness, and they hold each other’s hands smiling while talking about joyful incidents. Seeing them like this, Sanghamitra’s heart is also filled with joy. All the memories left behind across the border are slowly fading like a mirage. Sarmad told him that they would get back Mithila in India. In due course Mithila will come to their family. Sanghamitra has not told this to her family yet. Because she still can’t believe that Mithila can come back to them again. Only two minutes left for the train to depart, Sanghamitra started reciting the Hanuman Chalissa; she downloaded this on her mobile phone. Her Bapu and his two cousins ​​are sitting on one side talking; Sanghamitra’s mother covering her face with the veil is trying to sleep while Sanghamitra is single-mindedly reciting Hanuman challisha.

When the train was about to leave Ahmedabad station, Haider has been reading a book inside the National Library of Calcutta and smiling inside. Because before coming here, he had read something in the newspaper that terrorists from Pakistan had entered India through the Kutch border and killed several Indian soldiers. The pictures of the dead bodies of Indian soldiers were published in the newspapers; According to news reports while entering India through the Harami nala, the Pakistani charlatans killed Indian soldiers and disappeared among the people. Haider laughed himself after reading the news. There is a heavy police presence around the National Library of Kolkata. He thinks how much to deceive the general public for the sake of the security of the country. He sits quietly and continues reading the newspaper.

Three human bombs deployed from Pakistan are waiting for the ultimate moment to reach their target. At that time, in a secret place in New Delhi Dr. Iqbal aka Panchajanya, Sabirbhai aka Nomesh Gopalani and Chadha sir are sitting face to face with top officials of WAR. They are sitting in India watching everything happening there through the camera that Panchajanya left in Basir Ahmed’s bungalow in Lahore, Pakistan. In the living room Abu Talib, Sarfarosh, Ahmed and several others are sitting. Seeing them, Chadha Sir said, “They are all high-ranking officials of Pakistan’s spy agency, but where is Basir Ahmed?”

“If Basir Ahmed is not there, the whole game will be ruined.”

At that time Panchajanya receives an incoming call through WhatsApp. Panchajanya saw it is Abu Talib calling. He said, “Abu Talib is calling. Should I take the call?” Someone present there advised to turn off the sound of the video and speak. Abu Talib said when he picked up the phone, “Hey Dr. Iqbal, when are you coming? Come on the moment is near almost.”

Dr. Iqbal alias Panchjanya said, “I am buying two special gifts for you and Basir Ahmed Sahib, so I am getting late, you guys finish the job on time, I will come right away.”

Abu Talib said, “Hey Dr. Iqbal, Dahir’s diary is the greatest gift to me that is enough, no need to bring anything else.”

—Today is a very joyous day for us, so it is my duty to give you a present, so don’t refuse at all. You are my best friend, Allah introduced me to you while returning from Hajj.

—Whatever you give me, I will accept that. You must bring the diary of Surya Devi today. And one more thing, today I need that one crore bucks.

—Yes, yes, you don’t have to worry at all, trust me. I will bring everything. And one more thing, Is Mr. Basir Ahmed there? I really want to meet him.

—Yes, he is the person today with the remote control. He will press the remote button and we will celebrate. But the only regret remained that you are not here.

I said, first you complete this task properly, then I will go and join the celebration.

Basir Ahmed is now seen on the monitor screen. He sat on the couch with a huge bottle of whiskey. It is understood that the bottle was purchased for the celebration.

Nomesh Gopalani said, “I myself was present during his operation, will someone predict that a few days ago his stomach was operated!

Another person said, “They drink alcohol even though they are Muslims. They project that Pakistan respects its state religion so much. Here is his sample. A former military chief who is still wreaking havoc on India for Pakistan, also drinks alcohol. Hypocrisy in the name of religion.”

It is exactly fifteen minutes past eleven o’ clock. It can be seen on the monitor that everyone present surrounded Basir Ahmed while cheering. Then they started counting from ten, a strange joy in their eyes, like everyone at a New Year’s Eve party count before the New Year begins, they were doing the same.

All of WAR agencies were watching their last moments very closely at that time. They stopped for a while after counting one—

At this time three persons located in three other places in India also looked at their watches. Very silent all around. As soon as Basir Ahmed pressed the switch, a terrible fire erupted, then it was all over. Now nothing is showing on the monitor. Death is never happy, be it friend or foe, this is the philosophy of our country, which has been carried among the people of this country since time immemorial. However, they are committed to killing the demons who are defaming the motherland and the citizens of this country.

After a moment of silence, everyone present clapped their hands. Chadha sir stood up and hugged Panchajanya and Nomesh Gopalani together and said, “Today operation ‘Maharaja Dahirsen’ become successful. But we have one more thing to do.” Chadha sir made a video call from his mobile phone. Mithila sits with her eyes closed on an iron chair outdoor of All India Institute of Medical Sciences, tears of joy welling up in her eyes. At that time, the phone given by the lady police in her hand rang. She couldn’t open her eyes for a long time, then she looked up and saw that there is an incoming video call on the mobile phone; as she was instructed to pick up the call she quickly picked up the phone. On the other side, Haider also received a video call at the National Library of Calcutta, when he picked up the call, Chadha Sir saw Mithila and Haider together. He said to them, “Mithila, Haider, what you have done for this country today, this country will remember your contribution forever. Haider, there is a white car parked outside the national library in Calcutta, you get into it now, and Mithila, you will be approached by two lady police officers immediately, they will take you to a safe place.”  Mithila said, “Yes, sir, they have come, I am coming.”

Chadda sir handed the phone to Panchajanya and said, “Look who is there. Now be fully assured”. Seeing Panchjanya, Mithila started crying holding her face in her hands. She could no longer control her emotions. Panchajanya consoled her holding his palm on his chest with great emotion, “I am here, don’t cry anymore, come quickly.”

On the other hand, Haider came out of the National Library of Calcutta and said, “Dad, don’t you always say that at the end of any terrible experience there is a very good experience; after the operation ‘Maharaja Dahirsen’, their relationship left a very beautiful feeling”. Chadha sir said, “Your mother is worried, return home soon, then there will be a lot of talk about these things”.

On that day, there was News in Pakistan that a terrible explosions took place in three places at the same time in Pakistan. According to the news, a huge explosion took place at around eleven in the morning in the Lahore bungalow of former military officer Basir Ahmed. The explosion killed Basir Ahmed, his girlfriend Fiza and all the employees working in the bungalow. At the same time, an explosion occurred at the bungalow of the Sarfarosh in Tharparkar, Sindh province, killing the Jagirdar and all the employees of his bungalow. On the very same day, at the same time, a madrasa exploded in Tharparkar, which had been providing shelter, food and education to helpless, orphaned children for a long time. When the explosion occurred in the madrasa, the students of the madrasa had gone to offer a special prayer at Dargah Hazarat Sakhi Abdul Wahab Shah Jilani. So while they were all safe, the head of the madrasa and several prominent teachers died. Pakistan believes that India is responsible for the blast. Another news is showing along this news is the mysterious death of two surgeons from Tharparkar and Lahore in Pakistan. They were in their chamber in the hospital last night. At that time they suddenly fell into death. No injuries were found on their body; preliminary investigation suggested that they died of heart attack. However, after the blast at Tharparkar and Lahore, this incident is suspected to be a murder. Because a few days ago, Basir Ahmed returned home after undergoing an operation from this doctor in Lahore. Moreover, it is heard that the Jagirdar Sarfarosh had regular contact with this doctor of Tharparkar. Now the investigation is looking into whether there is any connection between these incidents.

Mrs. Chadha is watching TV intently. At that time the doorbell rang. Mrs. Chadha knows who has come; she was given all the instructions beforehand. As she hurriedly got up and opened the door, two female police officers passed Mithila to her. Mrs. Chadha hugged her and brought inside the room and made her sit on the sofa. Then closed the outer door and gave Mithila a glass of cold water. Mithila is drinking the cold water from the glass while the news was going on that a Pakistani terrorist has been caught outside the All India Institute of Medical Sciences in Delhi. ATS has been searching for him for long time, it is suspected that those who trespassed into India from Pakistan through harami nala, he is the one of them.

Mithila finished the glass and let out a big sigh of relief and held Mrs. Chadha’s hand tightly. (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-XI, Part-XII, Part-XIII , Part-XIV , Part-XV , Part-XVI, Part-XVII, Part-XVIII , Part-XIX, Part-XX, Part-XXI , Part-XXII, Part-XXIII , Part-XXIV , Part-XXV , Part-XXVI, Part-XXVII, Part-XXVIII, Part-XXIX, Part-XXX , Part-XXXI, Part-XXXII, Part-XXXIII , Part-XXXIV , Part-XXXV , Part-XXXVI , Part-XXXVII , Part-XXXVIII, Part-XXXIX, Part-XL , #Part-XLI , Part-XLII , Part-XLIII , Part-XLIV, Part-XLV , Part-XLVI , Part- XLVII , Part-XLVIII , Part-XLIX, Part-L , Part-XLI 

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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 post Maharaja Dahir – Resurgence of Sindh – Part-LII first appeared on Sindh Courier.

When Haider left, Chadha sir headed towards the border with the truck. The truck stops in between and fifteen people got into the truck in the way. Then the truck started moving towards Harami Nala.

The house from which these corpses were brought was in the middle of the desert, with no settlements around, because such secluded place was arranged to train the immigrants from Syria.

And many things were brought to the house of Sarfarosh at night by such trucks, so no one in the neighbourhood had any suspicions. Moreover, there was no limit to the grievances of the people of the region against the jagirdars, so no one had any headache as to what was happening or not in this house. The two watchmen of Sarfarosh’s bungalow were from Punjab, Sarfarosh appointed people from Punjab for his work, so it was not a matter of them returning home at that moment, so the people of the house did not suspect. Haider informed their family by WhatsApp from their mobile phone that they have to go on a special work and therefore will not be able to contact them for two days. Yes, Sarfarosh also sometimes sent them on their secret missions, then they did not communicate with anyone.

Abdul was becoming a human bomb, and after a few days he would go to Allah forever, so the guards used to talk to him openly. Those who were on the border were given advance instructions by this country’s authority that day, so they did not intercept the truck. At one place it was stopped, but when they found out that the truck of Sarfarosh was going and saw fifteen people inside with their faces covered with black cloths, they let go of the truck. After parking the truck some distance from Harami Nala, fifteen boxes crossed Harami Nala and entered India. On that day the Indian army knew that such an incident was going to happen. So even though everyone was on alert, they didn’t stop. Chadha Sir entered India by showing the green light from a narrow torch to the Indian soldiers that he had arrived.

That same day and a few hours later, at dawn, Sanghamitra crossed the barbed wire border at Nagarparkar with his father, mother and grandfather and entered India. When they entered India after checking at Pakistan check post.

The sun is rising. Nature covered in the orange light of the sun then looks like a hermit. Bapu walks ahead holding old father, mother keeps some distance behind him, Sanghamitra looks once in a while at Nagarparkar who is left behind. This side is bright. The nature of Nagarparkar looks dark, the combination of desert dust and sunlight creates such an atmosphere. God has cast a veil over his past. Mother shouted, what are you watching Sanghamitra? Come on! Sanghamitra felt that his bright future was waiting for him; why was she looking at the past. She started walking with her mind focused ahead. Then took mother’s hand and proceeded towards the check post of India.

Birds are chirping all around, a cold wind is blowing, after the work is done very quickly at the Indian check post, the old father took the soil of India in his hands and covered his head with folded hands and looked at the sky and bowed to his God. Sanghamitra sees her old father crying. Her whole body is shaking. At this time there is no movement of such people at the border. Two men crossed the border before them. A white car is standing on the other side, in front of the car are an old man wearing white clothes and a turban and two men of Bapu’s age. Sanghamitra felt that this old man looked exactly like his old father. While Sanghamitra was looking at the old man, Budda Baba broke into tears. The old man standing there is slowly coming towards the old father with both hands extended. His eyes were wet, but he controlled himself and moved forward quietly. At one place, the old man put his head on the old man’s chest and started crying. The old man hugged his father and said, “I never thought I would meet you, I did.”

The old father wept and said, I have always prayed to God that I should die in India, that I should see my Vaisab at least once before I die.”

For a while the two brothers exchanged sentimental expressions; the old father bowed to his grandfather. Then the two families met. They all got into a white car and left for Ahmedabad, from where they will catch their train to Jaisalmir tomorrow morning. Sanghamitra sits by the window, intently contemplating the auspicious beginning of this new chapter in her life. He heard from the old father that the colour of Lord Kalki’s horse was white. This white car seemed like the white horse of Lord Kalki; she felt that all the sins behind were going to be destroyed and Kalki was going to rescue her and her family from the reign of these sins and lead them to a bright future ahead.

Mithila crossed the Wagah border at Lahore and entered India. When she was showing her documents at the check post in India, the official who was there called someone, as soon as he saw his document. Almost immediately after the call a man came and asked her to come inside. Mithila realized that on Dr Iqbal’s orders, they are arranging to take her to a safe place. Mithila’s impression was not false; the man took her to a secret place, where an old lady was sitting. The person introduced Mithila to the old lady and said she is Mrs Chadha. She has come to pick you up, she will take you to her house in Delhi in her car. Another person will arrive by tonight; when he arrives you will leave together for Delhi. When the person leaves, Mrs. Chadha comes up and hugs Mithila and says, “Betty, don’t worry anymore. There will be no more torture on you.”

Mithila cries, unable to control her emotions. She felt that after a long time she got the touch of her mother. After a long time a motherly woman pulled her close with love like this. Mithila felt that a goddess came into her life in the form of Mrs. Chadha. Seeing Mithila crying, Mrs. Chadha sat her on a sofa, gave water from a covered glass on the table, and said, “Betty, our bad past is like a dustbin. Do we look at the dustbin? Don’t see, throw away the dirt and turn away. So don’t worry about the past. A new chapter in your life has started from today.”

Mithila said, “But aunty, my father, mother, sister, grandfather are all in that country. It is very difficult for them.” Mrs. Chadha smiled and said, “Your entire family is now in India. Wait a minute, you will be with them in India. And no one can separate you.”

“But aunty, I have to go alone from here, as I am instructed to do so. I am taking your home address, I will go to your home when I am done.”

At that time the man came again. Then Mithila explained to him that if I do not act as per their instructions, then they will be suspicious. All plans will be destroyed. Because they have people on the other side too. As I am told to reach Delhi, I will go to Delhi, where I am told to stay, I will stay with them. Then I will go to that particular place. If all goes well then I will meet Ms Chadha in Delhi. After listening to Mithila, Mrs. Chadha also said that she is right, and if she is sitting here without doing what they say, then they will not let Haider cross the border either. Because there will be a fear among them that even if Haider goes, he may be trapped. Mithila picked up her luggage.

Mithila said that I have spent a lot of time here; now they will suspect, I am leaving now. Before leaving, Mithila bowed to Mrs. Chadha and said, “Aunty, if I come back, you will take me to my family.”

Mithila came out and continued walking forward, when she felt a person walking with her. Mithila deliberately started walking slowly. After going some distance from the check post, the man told Mithila that Basir Ahmed has sent me to take you to Delhi, get into the black car in front. Mithila was now ready for everything, she had overcome all the fears of life long ago, even overcoming the weakness in her mind. She sat in the car.

That person who sat in the driver’s seat, asked ‘why did they take you inside?’ Mithila said, they got suspicious seeing me, so the woman checked me thoroughly and asked some questions and let me go. The driver said, “I was scared. India’s Kutch border was attacked last night, hence the caution.” Mithila’s heart swelled when she heard that the Kutch border had been attacked; she realized that she had to prepare for a much more complicated situation.

That day, when the vehicle reached Delhi at night, Haider alias Abdul entered India with the identity. But he was not stopped at the border like Mithila. After entering India, when Haider was going through all his documents, he met an old man. Mrs. Chadha was silently looking at him with a smile, as he was coming out, the Praudha raised his hand and blessed him. Haider walked out of the border, oblivious to the whole incident, and headed for Amritsar airport. That night from Amritsar he boarded a flight to Kolkata.

That day when the human bombs from Pakistan entered India, at the same time Dr. Iqbal was sitting in a restaurant in front of the port of Karachi. Iqbal and Sabirbhai were watching news on TV while having dinner. Everyone who came to the restaurant is watching the news. Last night a group entered from Pakistan through Harami Nala, several Indian soldiers were killed in their surprise attack, the attackers had mingled with the common people of India. A warning has been issued across India regarding this. News shows 14 Indian soldiers brutally killed, their faces smashed beyond recognition. Seeing the bodies on the TV screen, everyone in the restaurant is chanting Pakistan Zindabad.

Sabirbhai raised a big yawn. Looking at Dr. Iqbal, he said, let’s go, ship is about to leave. If you don’t get up now, your luggage will reach Bandar Abbas but you will stay here.

On that day, when the Azad ship left Karachi port for Bandar Abbas and reached the middle of the sea, and the lights of the distant Karachi port became dim from point to point, Dr. Iqbal remembered that Maharaja believed in the karma. He used to read Gita regularly, and in his diary he mentioned a verse from Gita and wrote:

‘Tamattgyanjang Viddhi Mohang Sarvadehinam. Pramadalsyanidravistannivanati Bharata.’

It means that Tamoguna is a very peculiar quality of the embodied soul. This Tamoguna is the complete opposite of Sattaguna. By the practice of knowledge in sattguna one can know what one is, but all possessed by tamoguna are mad and one who is mad does not know what one is. Instead of improving, it degenerates.

It has been described, ‘Vastuyattmanavarakang bharatajnjanajanakang tamah’ that one cannot determine the nature of matter when it is engulfed by tamoguna. As everyone knows that everyone in the world dies one day. But people think about earning wealth day and night without thinking about spiritual development. But after death the soul takes nothing with it except knowledge and experience. This type of person is very selfish. They can harm any person for their own betterment. Because they think of the material world as everything. When they are called to join the company of saints for the attainment of transcendental knowledge, they show no enthusiasm. Such people have the greatest attraction to drugs. Because thinking about their own happiness, they commit so many sins that when the cycle of sin is complete, they get involved in problems from all sides, and they do not make any spiritual progress. They take the help of drugs to forget the problems of the material world. My subjects had to suffer the consequences because of me. There is no point in blaming Mohammad Bin Qasim. His arrival is due to my sins. Let future people blame me for the downfall of Sindh country.

Thinking about the words, Dr Iqbal’s eyes closed. He heard Sabirbhai’s voice in his sleep. Sabirbhai says. “Tomorrow afternoon our flight will leave from Bandar Abbas Airport to New Delhi.” (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-XI, Part-XII, Part-XIII , Part-XIV , Part-XV , Part-XVI, Part-XVII, Part-XVIII , Part-XIX, Part-XX, Part-XXI , Part-XXII, Part-XXIII , Part-XXIV , Part-XXV , Part-XXVI, Part-XXVII, Part-XXVIII, Part-XXIX, Part-XXX , Part-XXXI, Part-XXXII, Part-XXXIII , Part-XXXIV , Part-XXXV , Part-XXXVI , Part-XXXVII , Part-XXXVIII, Part-XXXIX, Part-XL , #Part-XLI , Part-XLII , Part-XLIII , Part-XLIV, Part-XLV , Part-XLVI , Part- XLVII , Part-XLVIII , Part-XLIX, Part-L 

______________________

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.

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The post Maharaja Dahir – Resurgence of Sindh – Part-LI first appeared on Sindh Courier.

Tharparkar, Sindh

Year 2021

Dots of light from the border can be seen through the window. Biryani is being cooked in one corner of the room. The entire room has been diffused with mouth-watering aroma of biryani. A few people are sitting in another corner of the room; they have finished their prayers a while ago; in the light-shadow environment of the room the exhaustion of their physique and the fierceness in their eyes together have yielded an unusual mix. Even in the dim light in the darkness, their eyes resemble to that of wolves. The old man who was standing in front of the window, turned his eyes towards the biryani pot and called, “Amir, they have to go out in a little while, take down the pot and serve them.” The shadow of the biryani pot falling on the wall manifests like the stomach of a monstrous demon. The gentleman is looking at it. At once a young man entered, his face covered with a black cloth; he held the pot on both sides with two pieces of cloth and placed it between four bricks placed on the floor. The others are staring at the man; the veins in his arms are bulging. He took a knife from the pocket of his pajama and very ruthlessly peeled off the flour sealing from the lid of the pot, then opened the lid and starts mixing the biryani with a plate. The old gentleman looked at the people sitting in the corner of the house and said, “You all eat and get ready.” The young man quickly arranged fifteen plates and started serving the biryani. The cold desert night wind wafted through the window, carrying the smell of gunpowder from the barbed wire of the border. They started eating Biryani; the old gentleman sat on the opposite side of the room supervising their meal. The old man said, “After this, you will have biriyani directly in the jannat (heaven), besides you have much laborious tasks ahead of now, so eat as much as you can and  fill your stomach.”

The young man named Amir is serving them biryani as much as they are eating. Their shadows fall on the wall, and horribly peculiar sounds coming out of their mouths. It looks like a group of ghouls consuming their last meal. When they finished eating, the old man said, “Amir, give them chilled sweet drink. This sharbat will help in digestion.” Amir kept pouring the sharbat in the glass and holding it to their mouths. A strong smell of gunpowder is coming from the outside window, this smell is very strong at night. The creepy sipping sound of the drinking and the trembling shadows on the walls represent medieval barbaric consort. After some time, the shadows began to tumble down with sudden thud. It was all over in a few moments. Amir rushed towards them and raised the hand of one of them, examined his pulses and looked at the old man and said, “Khallaas” (Finished)”.

The old one closed the door, sat under the window and said, “Give me a plate of biryani and you eat too, now we have to wait. I am waiting here; you go and handle the other side now.” The young man put a lot of biryani in a big tiffin box and a good amount of sharbat in a milk can; he opened the door as per the old man’s instructions and left the room. The old man closed the door from inside and turned off the lights. At one side of the room there are bodies of fifteen dead people and on the other side there is biryani. There might be the odour of the dead body which get mixed with the aroma of biryani and made the atmosphere gloomy; also the smell of the gunpowder coming outside the window turned the atmosphere into a valley of death. He was sitting on the floor leaning against the wall in the dark room, the eyes and face of the old man has turned rock hard, emotionless. He was trying hard to involve himself into the combat with the current situation, and maybe a little while, thereafter he can get out of this situation. His job is no less than a deep asceticism. He closed his eyes and let out a sigh in order to calm his mind and waited for the right moment. At that time, the ringing of the mobile phone came to his ears. Fifteen years ago, there was a similar ringtone on his phone, when he was deployed in Baramulla for an operation. One evening his phone rang, that must be Mrs. Chadha from Delhi, as their ten-year-old son became extremely restless to talk to his father once a day.

He picked up the phone and saw an unknown number. Many times when a terrorist enters the village, the spies call from such an unknown number, so Major Chadha picks up the phone, a child’s voice is heard; the child is calling him and saying in Kashmiri, “Dadu asked you to call.” At first, Major Chadha was a little surprised to hear the voice of such a small child; similar voice like his son, so a sympathy for the child was formed at the beginning. He said, “Yes beta!” The child replied that all the children in their village were being taken to the other side of the mountain, from where they were to be taken to the land of Allah, that he too would be taken, but he was unwilling to go at all.” As the child could not speak clearly, Major Chadha asked him to transfer the phone to someone adult with him. The child handed it over to his grandfather, he described the whole story. Young children from remote villages in Kashmir are trafficked to Pakistan and trained by terrorists for future suicide attacks. In these villages as they have several children influenced by some religious superstition and due to some financial reasons, many families voluntarily hand over their children to this vicious trap, and the families of those who do not want to give, are robbed of their children with various threats. The boy’s name is Haider, his grandfather has been threatened that if he doesn’t hand over Haider, his father and uncle will be killed and the girls from their home will be taken away. When Haider’s grandfather told this incident to some of his acquaintances, one of them gave him the number of Major Chadha. Major Chadha thought that the person might be working as a spy. The bodies of that village gang who are involved in this were found by the next day. Concerned for Haider’s safety, Major Chadha took him to his own house in Delhi and brought him up with his own son. Haider grew up in his own identity by a Hindu foster father, but his foster mother never treated him differently from his own child. As time went by, his two sons grew up and Major Chadha started working for the WAR. His son Somnath is now working as a captain in the WAR and another son Haider is working for the WAR as a spy. Haider took refuge in a Madrasah in Sindh under the identity of Abdul and later prepared to become a human bomb. Being Abdul on one side and Amir on the other side, he continued to lead the mission Maharaja Dahirsen towards the end.

Chadha Sir opened his eyes and looked at the dead bodies and thought, maybe these were the children of a good family, and kidnapped and trained as militants in their childhood, just like the terrorists of the Islamic State kidnap and train the children of Yazidis and Christians in Syria. Again, many young people are brainwashed and come this way voluntarily. If there was a Chadha sir in their life, maybe this terrible situation would not have happened to them.

Not enjoying any comfort and happiness while alive, they accept this horrible death only driven by the lust of going to Jannat after death. A man is not born evil. He deteriorates, driven by time and environment. About two hours passed by thinking about various things like this. Then a car arrived outside. As soon as the sound of the car came to his ears, Chadha sir sighed and stood up. Then he opened the door after knocking. A small truck is parked outside. Haider starts to unload the wooden boxes from that truck.

Then the wooden boxes were brought into the room and the dead bodies are placed into it one by one.

Chadha Sir said, “Haider, son, be careful, the stitches in your stomach are still fresh”. Haider said, “Papa, you are here, the work will easily be done together.” Chadha Sir replied, “But who will help you when you unload the boxes at the house of Sarfarosh?”

—Papa, Sarfarosh is now in Lahore. He has a bungalow in Tharparkar; none of his family lives there, his family lives in Karachi. I gave biryani and sharbat to the two security who are guarding the house and told them that langar (free food) is going on in the house of Maulvi sahib in the madrasa; these things have been prepared there, so I brought them for you. After hearing this, one of them came to me and hugged me, and said, “Brother, I will remember you very much; go to Allah and pray for us, so that we can also deserve Jannat.”

“As soon as I opened the lid of the biryani, their eyes lit up. Then they ate biryani together and then had sharbat. After my operation I stayed in that bungalow for some time. Then I developed a good friendship with them. They knew very well that I would be sent to India as a human bomb. I myself told them. They knew my time was running out. So they ate that food believing me to keep my wish. Because I told them that after coming here I have not made any friends except them, so I informed Maulvi Sahib and brought food for them. They used to pick up little girls from the village for Sarfarosh. I heard these from themselves; they happily told those things to me. There are a lot of drugs in that house which are supplied to India from Pakistan; they showed me the drugs kept in a huge hall just below the bungalow. Drugs are smuggled in this truck. I also knew where the truck keys were kept. In these few days I was mingled with them very well.”

Chadha sir now notices that Haider is dressed as a security guard. Haider said, “When everything is cleared, I took the key of the bungalow and opened the door of the basement and removed the two bodies there. There is another set of costume of someone, wear it. We have to remove the bodies of these fifteen people to that dungeon.”

Chadha sir was about six and a half feet tall and even at this age his body strength was much more than that of many young men. He didn’t put much pressure on Haider in any way, because Haider might be facing difficulties in moving such heavy bodies, moreover, this kind of training was given to them while in the army. By midnight that day, they lifted all the bodies in truck, then drove that truck to Sarfarosh’s bungalow. The complete control of this bungalow was then in the hands of Haider. He himself got down from the truck and opened the outer gate of the bungalow and took the truck inside.

Chadha sir said, “I picked the most important body in this black colour box. Take a look at the stitches on the stomach.” Haider opened the lid of the box and saw that the corpse had stitch marks on its stomach. A trolley was placed in a corner of the bungalow, the boxes filled with drugs were taken to the basement, in one of the trolley; the body in the black box was taken to the basement through a certain path.

When all the work was done, Chadha sir said, “Haider, now you have to cross the Wagah border and enter India with your passport and visa identified as Abdul. Because if you don’t cross the border, news will be reached to them from there. When they ask you to stay in the National Library of Calcutta. Mrs Chadha has instructions to take you and Mithila to Delhi. She is coming to Atari border to pick you up. Mother’s mind will insist, but you will not go, otherwise all our efforts will be in vain.”

Haider was surprised and said, “Why are these instructions being given?

There is higher authority over our head too; these are their instructions. But once you cross the Atari border you won’t have any more worries, then everything is under our control.

Haider hugs his father while leaving, his father puts his hand on Haider’s head and says, “Now you need rest, you have to return India as soon as possible. You go now.” (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-XI, Part-XII, Part-XIII , Part-XIV , Part-XV , Part-XVI, Part-XVII, Part-XVIII , Part-XIX, Part-XX, Part-XXI , Part-XXII, Part-XXIII , Part-XXIV , Part-XXV , Part-XXVI, Part-XXVII, Part-XXVIII, Part-XXIX, Part-XXX , Part-XXXI, Part-XXXII, Part-XXXIII , Part-XXXIV , Part-XXXV , Part-XXXVI , Part-XXXVII , Part-XXXVIII, Part-XXXIX, Part-XL , #Part-XLI , Part-XLII , Part-XLIII , Part-XLIV, Part-XLV , Part-XLVI , Part- XLVII , Part-XLVIII , Part-XLIX

_____________________

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 post Maharaja Dahir – Resurgence of Sindh – Part-L first appeared on Sindh Courier.

Dr. Iqbal noticed on another page that Maharaja Dahir had written about his war preparations; in such a situation he was also worried about his mother Kali of Aror, if daily ritualistic worship of her mother’s  would be done properly or not. He expressed concern for his pets. He had heard that the Arabs did not take proper care of their domestic animals; they use an animal as much as possible, then when the animals became sick due to overwork and lack of proper food, then the Arabs leave them to die.

Maharaja Dahir writes that if he is defeated, thinking of the plight of his pets brings tears to his eyes. He is praying in his heart that their lives will be lost on the battlefield, so that they will not have to endure so much suffering afterwards. As a father, he is wishing the death of his children! His eyes are filled with tears.

Dr. Iqbal can see marks of tear drops. Surya Devi was also emotional like her father. Because he saw marks of tear drops on the pages of the diary of Surya Devi too.

Maharaja Dahir expressed great concern for his children like subjects. He wrote that it seems that a horrendous demon is slowly devouring Mother Sindhu. This demon is beheading the men, meaning that if he is defeated, all the men in his kingdom will be beheaded. Maharaja writes that daughters of Sindh are Devi Lakshmi to him. If he is defeated, they will be sold in the Arab market. He wrote that if he could go back in time, he would have corrected all his mistakes, then Sindhu Maa would have been saved. He is praying to Mother Goddess to give him the strength to fight against this adverse situation.

While reading Maharaja Dahir’s diary Iqbal remembered his grandfather. Dadu talks about Maharaja Dahir. Dadu says tolerance is not for this age, if you remain unarmed, you give kindness and love to others, but in return he cuts your throat and leaves; that is not right at all. Dadu’s house in Mirpur was attacked by Khansena one night. Dahir’s family has a lot in common with my Dadu’s family. May be that is the reason for which God has chosen him for this special task.

Dr. Iqbal is now getting a little sleepy due to long fatigue. He puts Maharaja Dahir’s diary in the metal box and lay down on the four-legged bed. As soon as he closed his eyes, it was as if he had arrived in Bangladesh in the 1971; the jute fields around Mirpur– the grandfather’s village, and the earthy road passing through the field entered into the village. Right at the entrance of the village there is a huge Kali temple, he heard from his grandfather that his grandfather Kalipada Sen was a devotee of Maa Kali, and he founded this temple. The name of Kalipada Sen was inscribed on the white stone plaque cemented on the red wall of the temple. On both sides of this path are green forests; sometimes one or two small hatched houses. As Dadu described, Dr. Iqbal aka Panchajanya’s mind kept seeing the same scene. A huge house is seen in front of this road. This is exactly how the mansions of zamindar looks like in the movies. Suddenly the darkness of the night descends all around, the clouds are roaring in the sky, the lightning flashed over the big house in front. All of a sudden the front door of the house is opened, then many men and women along with their children entered the house from both sides of the door. When Iqbal’s consciousness entered this house, he could not see anything, because of the terrible darkness all around. Now he can only hear heavy breathing sound. He smelled a very foul odour, surroundings were slowly illuminating now, he could see a teenager, very scared sitting behind a huge chamber. He heard from his grandfather that they had arrangement of a temporary latrine in the village house; his grandfather used to sit behind the latrine chamber to escape from the khan soldiers.

Dr. Iqbal’s consciousness came out from that and saw men standing in a queue in the middle of the courtyard, and a group of Khan’s soldiers standing opposite to them.

Within a moment gun shots rang out; slowly men are toppling down and the earthy yard turned red with blood. He now heard the screams of the women. What a terrible scene. In a while a sari flew in the blow of wind and starts falling on the pool of blood in the courtyard; along with the sari hair strands, torn hair, broken pieces of bangles all started accumulating. These piles covered the vision forward. Then darkness again. Out of the darkness the howl of jackals and dogs emerging out, then all become still. Dadu was the only chap who survived that journey. Here Dadu can only be compared with Maharaja Dahir’s son Jaisingh. Like Jaisingh, Dadu managed to save himself and carry forward his lineage. Dadu says God has a great purpose behind every event. This time the purpose of his coming to Pakistan and why he was selected for this job became clear to him. After a long overdue exasperate, he sleeps peacefully. (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-XI, Part-XII, Part-XIII , Part-XIV , Part-XV , Part-XVI, Part-XVII, Part-XVIII , Part-XIX, Part-XX, Part-XXI , Part-XXII, Part-XXIII , Part-XXIV , Part-XXV , Part-XXVI, Part-XXVII, Part-XXVIII, Part-XXIX, Part-XXX , Part-XXXI, Part-XXXII, Part-XXXIII , Part-XXXIV , Part-XXXV , Part-XXXVI , Part-XXXVII , Part-XXXVIII, Part-XXXIX, Part-XL , #Part-XLI , Part-XLII , Part-XLIII , Part-XLIV, Part-XLV , Part-XLVI , Part- XLVII , Part-XLVIII 

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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 post Maharaja Dahir – Resurgence of Sindh – Part-XLIX first appeared on Sindh Courier.

All the doors and windows of this house were closed; Sabirbhai turned on the cooler and the lights inside the room. Dr. Iqbal faced little problem to open the box, as the top lid of the box was relatively large and was very lightly fitted. When they opened the box, they found what looked like an ancient manuscript. A very strong smell was emanating from the manuscript. Sabirbhai said that the manuscript has been treated with chemicals to preserve it. Think how advanced the science was at that time. Dr. Iqbal picked up that manuscript and noticed that it is written ‘Diary of Maharaja Dahir’.

Iqbal surprisingly asked Sabir bhai, “Brother, how did you know that this diary is kept there?”

—Having accumulated a lot of experience doing these things over a long period of time, my experience told me that the manuscript is there. You read it, find out what it says, I have to take a nap surely, otherwise I won’t be able to drive.

There are two couches in this room, and a beautiful bed is placed on the couches. It is clear that as they are coming, this arrangement has been done in advance. Sabirbhai went to sleep on a bed and Dr. Iqbal sat on another couch and started reading the book.

At the beginning of Maharaja Dahir’s writing, he offered obeisance to his divine mother Kali. No date is mentioned on the diary, but he wrote it consistently. Dr. Iqbal felt that when Maharaja Dahir started writing this diary, he had no reckoning of time. He had been writing in a whirlwind.

I am writing because future generations may learn from my life’s mistakes. The present age does not obey Veda-vyakya (eternal advices), so one has to prepare accordingly to survive the battle with time and environment.

He wrote, “I could never think of that the last phase of my life will be so terrible. I know my life is coming to an end, and I am solely responsible for this outcome. My father Chach used to say that it is a great sin to lose faith in human; if someone does wrong with you, you will always do justice in return, then you will observe that change will start to happen inside him. Thus even your staunch enemy will become your ally. Father used to say that there is nothing more virtuous than giving shelter to the helpless, giving food to the hungry. I followed my father’s ideals. But my father did not know that the outsiders would never understand the greatness of his philosophy, because their philosophy is to deceit and violence. Mohammad Alafi sought refuge to me. I gave him shelter, but I do not perceived his deception.

I see the terrible fate of the country of Sindh. Yet I will fight, I will fight as long as I am alive.

He gradually gained my trust and began to spread his dominion throughout the kingdom. And gradually he introduced thousands of Arab warriors into the country of Sindh in disguise. Then some traitors from our Sindh country were taken to Arabia bribing them with huge money to train the Arabs in the language and culture of Sindh so that they could not be recognized even if they live together with the common Sindh citizens. Alafi’s troops have learned all our defence mechanism from our troops. Alafi minted coins in his own name in return for a small contribution to the security of the Indus country. I continued to help him as our best friend, but he exploited my simplicity. Mohammed bin Qasim invaded to enslave Sindhis to Arabia, but my father taught me that the guest is Narayan (embodiment of God), not to starve him. I saw my arch enemy as Narayana. When the Arab soldiers were spending the day in isolation with no food to eat, no water to drink, I started supplying them with food and water. Consuming the food I provided, they have grown stronger and are now preparing to attack me. Alafi, whom I thought, was my best friend, abandoned me in this time of danger and joined the enemy camp. I came to know that Alafi had killed our soldiers and replaced them with Arab soldiers, and that the army of the Sindh country was full of fake soldiers. Because of this the Arabs are conquering one city after another. My son Yuvraj Jaisingh has raised an army of his chosen warriors, they are trying to defend the last, but Jaisingh’s army is too small against this huge Arab force, so they are not able to prevail. Above all, there is unity among the Arabs, which we do not have. The kings of the Arab countries are helping with arms, soldiers and resources to further their crusade. But when our Sindhumata is attacked, no one is coming forward to save her. I don’t know how much I can resist the enemies alone. Sindhu country is the wall to the entry to Hind, if Sindh ends then Hind will also end. Keeping our personal enmity and hatred aside, we must hold each other’s hands now—or everything will be over. Thousands of Sindhi women and children are being sold in the markets of Baghdad. Women and children of infidels are considered objects to fulfil their lust. They have no natural resources of their own, they will enjoy the natural resources and human resources of Sindh country. They will steal our knowledge and use it for their own development, and we will continue to sink into darkness day by day. By pushing our future generations into darkness, they will become enlightened. I am suffering greatly for my children, to follow the virtuous moral code of life, I now have pushed the life of my people, of my children into darkness. I am a complete failure as a father. I know that my defeat in this war is certain; I see the terrible fate of the country of Sindh. Yet I will fight, I will fight as long as I am alive. There is still one last hope. I have sent messengers to the kings of Hind, hoping they will help me. If the war breaks out and I fall, I know they will not spare Airavat, the elephant. In my lifetime, I already have built a tomb for my favourite pet.

I will keep this diary secretly on one side of that Samadhi temple (tomb). No one but a few people close to me will know. Many will wonder why I am writing down my current feelings. I am writing because future generations may learn from my life’s mistakes. The present age does not obey Veda-vyakya (eternal advices), so one has to prepare accordingly to survive the battle with time and environment. I have very little time in hand, I will leave my diary to my Prime Minister Budhimaan. And after a while late at night they will hide it in the right place. Because the surrounding villages are being attacked in the dark of night; the Arabs can attack us at any time. Jai Sindh Jai Hind, Goodbye.’ (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-XI, Part-XII, Part-XIII , Part-XIV , Part-XV , Part-XVI, Part-XVII, Part-XVIII , Part-XIX, Part-XX, Part-XXI , Part-XXII, Part-XXIII , Part-XXIV , Part-XXV , Part-XXVI, Part-XXVII, Part-XXVIII, Part-XXIX, Part-XXX , Part-XXXI, Part-XXXII, Part-XXXIII , Part-XXXIV , Part-XXXV , Part-XXXVI , Part-XXXVII , Part-XXXVIII, Part-XXXIX, Part-XL , #Part-XLI , Part-XLII , Part-XLIII , Part-XLIV, Part-XLV , Part-XLVI , Part- XLVII 

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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 post Maharaja Dahir – Resurgence of Sindh – Part-XLVIII first appeared on Sindh Courier.

The next morning, when they reached Rohri, the sun had not yet risen. Sabirbhai parked the car under a banyan tree on the banks of the river Sindhu, some distance away from Rohri town. There is a mosque some distance away from the banyan tree, —”After a while the prayer will start in the mosque, we will wait here now; after the prayer, the imam will come out of the mosque and sit under this tree for some time and will enjoy the river breeze; then the small shop you see will open after a while, and he will have tea from that shop. This region is the oldest; once most of the people here were Hindus; after partition they all converted. But like Dr. Amir Khan, they still have deep faith in their tradition; no one knows better than them the whereabouts of Dahir’s time, so wait.”

After a while, the sound of prayer was coming out from the mosque. Then an old man came out of the mosque and sat down under the banyan tree. The sky became quite clear then; he was looking at the river.  At that moment Dr. Iqbal stood in front of him. Imam Sahib was somewhat surprised to see an unknown person at this time. His mind remains very calm at this point; after remaining silent for a while Imam Saheb exchanged greetings. Then he asked the reason for the arrival.

Dr. Iqbal said that he was writing a book on the ancient city of Aror; he had heard that there was a temple of Indradev in this city, and had come to collect information about that temple.

Imam Sahib said to him, “It is very nice to meet you. After the Morning Prayer today, someone has come like you after a long time. As you continue towards the west along the banks of the Indus River, after five minutes of walking you will come across an ancient ruin, which the locals call a Buddhist Stupa. But if you look carefully, you can see on the ancient ruins there is praise of Lord Indra inscribed in Sanskrit; inside the stupa there is a picture of an elephant on a wall, below which there is a door; next to this entrance praises are written of Airavat—Lord Indra’s vehicle. Buddhists do not worship Lord Indra and his vehicle Airavata.”

Sabirbhai told Dr. Iqbal that the people of this region were all Hindus at a time. Listening to this imam, it seems that he was once a Hindu too, that’s why he knows so much.

When Dr. Iqbal stood up saying ‘Allah Hafez’. Imam looked at Iqbal and smiled mysteriously. Seeing this smile Iqbal also got scared. The imam’s gaze seemed to look inside him. He felt that He had been caught. Imam remained silent for a while and said, “Cover your ears with your hair right now, you are lucky not to have been noticed so far. Muslims do not have holes in their ears.”

Hearing this, came out of his mouth, —you?

—I am an Indian, living in this country for thirty long years and have been serving my motherland. You should go now, it is not right for you to stay here for long.

Dr. Iqbal along with Sabirbhai continued westward along the river Sindhu; there is no other settlement except this mosque along the river; only a few trees lined up far and wide; birds chirping from the trees; it is like a tapoban, where an ascetic is engrossed in long deep meditation. How mysterious, how strange is the way of human life. There is no way to understand who is sitting where. But it was necessary to meet such a person, every person comes in life to offer something or the other as experience. He has been serving the country by staying in such a place for thirty years. How many people make such great sacrifices to spend their lives far away from their families, but their sacrifices are not written anywhere in the pages of history.

The ruins of a huge stupa can be seen ahead. It didn’t take long to find the entrance to the stupa with a hymn to Indra written in Sanskrit on one side. A closer look at the architecture reveals that it is the ruins of a temple. Locals were once Hindus, yet they promote it as Buddhist architecture, there is indeed some mystery behind it, maybe, they want to hide something like Dr. Amir Khan. Perhaps some strict instructions were given to the people of Aror. It is very dark inside the temple. Inside is full of wild plants.

Sabirbhai said, “Be very careful, generally poisonous snakes live in the bushes inside such broken houses. Let’s light on the torch first.”

Sabirbhai turn on the flashlight out of his pocket and Dr. Iqbal turned on the torch of his mobile and looked around.

–Sabirbhai, where we are standing right now was once used as a sanctum of a temple. Look there is an altar. On the wall right to the altar there is a door, on which I can see the architecture of an elephant. On the side of the door something is written in Sanskrit, if what the imam says is true, then it is the Ayravat hymn. But the inside of the door has been filled with bricks. My mind says inside this huge door there is the tomb of Airavat.

And have you noticed another thing? The entrance to the temple is also very wide. Maharaja Dahir may have built such a mausoleum to bury his beloved pet, so that if Airavat died after his death, he could be buried here. But no deity is ever worshiped in a tomb. So what is this altar for?

“You wait, there is a shovel in the car, I will bring it.” Sabirbhai brought the shovel and Dr. Iqbal said, “I think that door should be broken first. There is no use in breaking this altar.”

—Dr. Iqbal, utilize your common sense. When Airavat was buried, Maharaja Dahir was not alive. Then surely no one else would bury his diary there? Maharaja himself concealed it somewhere else at the beginning of the war, and nobody should possibly know that the diary was kept here, except one or two persons who were very close to him, they certainly wrote this in riddles. This is what my intuition senses. Let’s break that paved platform first.

They cleared the thickets and continued to move towards the paved platform. Even on the floor, there are full of the wild plants, Sabirbhai suddenly stopped while removing those plants with the shovel. A figure of a king is drawn in the middle of the floor.

Sabirbhai said, “Iqbal come here, see what I comprehended was not wrong. This king’s appearance is completely different, in the internet the pictures of second Madho Singh or Ranveer Singh, the king of Kashmir their picture was circulated as the picture of Maharaja Dahir. But no one has any idea how he looked like. But the king whose figure is painted here has a small inscription on his chest written ‘Maharaja Dahir’, which means that Maharaja Dahir looked like this. Dr. Iqbal took pictures of it with his mobile camera.

Then Sabirbhai started driving the shovel on it. It didn’t take long for him, a square hole appeared as soon as he hit a few times on the figure. In which a metal box is kept. Sabirbhai told gasping, “pick up this metal box, I think it’s there.” Dr.Iqbal picked it up. Then without waiting any longer, they hurriedly put the box in the bag and came out. That moment was the most important, they didn’t say a word until they got into the car from the mausoleum. Sabirbhai got into the car and started driving very fast. As they continued along the banks of Sindhu, their car turned left and began to run through a rugged desert, then stopped in front of a small house in the middle of a secluded area. There are no settlements around here, hot winds blowing dust away as the sun rises up with increasing heat. There is a Blue door in the white house. Sabirbhai got down from the car and took a key from his pocket and unlocked the door, then when they got inside, Sabirbhai locked the door from inside.

Sabir bhai, your activity looks like we are in India not in Pakistan. The way we’re working here in this country, it seems that their intelligence agency is over.

It is practically over, the economic condition of this country is now so bad that people who used to work for them, are now working with us for money. We don’t have to wait much longer, Pakistan will become India after a few years. Everything we do here, we are doing for the benevolence of everyone. Now open the box. (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-XI, Part-XII, Part-XIII , Part-XIV , Part-XV , Part-XVI, Part-XVII, Part-XVIII , Part-XIX, Part-XX, Part-XXI , Part-XXII, Part-XXIII , Part-XXIV , Part-XXV , Part-XXVI, Part-XXVII, Part-XXVIII, Part-XXIX, Part-XXX , Part-XXXI, Part-XXXII, Part-XXXIII , Part-XXXIV , Part-XXXV , Part-XXXVI , Part-XXXVII , Part-XXXVIII, Part-XXXIX, Part-XL , #Part-XLI , Part-XLII , Part-XLIII , Part-XLIV, Part-XLV , Part-XLVI 

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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 post Maharaja Dahir – Resurgence of Sindh – Part-XLVII first appeared on Sindh Courier.

Rahim Yar Khan

Year 2021

—Sabirbhai, why did you come to Rahim Yar Khan?

— Maharaja Dahirsen will be incomplete if we do not come to Rahim Yar Khan before leaving for Aror.

Sabirbhai stopped the car in front of the Maharaja Dahir Sen dental Clinic in Rahim Yar Khan and said, “Come and meet the Rajasaheb of Rahim Yar Khan.”

—Uff, Sabirbhai, we don’t have that much time at all. Is there any need to do this?

Can you find the tomb of Airavat by yourself? Nobody else in Aror knows anything about these things. Time is short, I know that very well, that’s why I brought you here.

They opened the glass door of the Maharaja Dahir Sen dental Clinic and entered, this time there was no patient inside, a huge painting of Maharaja Dahir was hanging from the wall, below that the name and time of Maharaja Dahir is mentioned. 2nd of July is recorded as the date of his death. There are black sofas on both sides of this room, evidently those are for the patients and party to be awaited, there is another room inside this room, Sabirbhai opened the door and entered that room, Dr. Iqbal followed him and find out a man sitting by, seeing Sabirbhai he stood up and do namashkar with folded hands. Looking at Dr. Iqbal Sabirbhai said, “Meet Dr. Amir Khan, who claims to be the living descendant of Maharaja Dahir.”

Seeing Dr. Amir Khan, Dr. Iqbal become awfully speechless. He didn’t have any detailed idea about Maharaja Dahir before, how much he was getting to know in detail since joining Mission Maharaja Dahir Sen. And without Sabirbhai, he would not have met Dr. Amir Khan. His very name suggests that he has nothing to do with Syria, but is a descendant of some other offspring of Dahirsen. Dr. Iqbal did not have to ask anything. Dr. Amir Khan himself started saying, “I met Sabirbhai through Facebook. He informed me that you are writing a biographical book on Maharaja Dahir, I can’t compose, God has not given me that quality, but I can give you a lot of information about our lineage, hope that information will enrich your book.”

Dr. Iqbal said, “What is the relationship between you and Maharaja Dahir?”

—I am a descendant of Jaisingh, son of Maharaja Dahir.

—Jaisingh was alive?

—yes Of course he was alive, otherwise where did I come from!

—Yes, certainly he is, how much false history we are being taught, the real history is found out from people like you. Please edify us by whatever you know.

—While Maharaja Dahir was engaged in the war of Rawar, Jaisingh was trying his best to preserve the independence of Brahmanabad and its surroundings. Maharaja Chach and his son Dahir had a deep emotional connection with this Brahmanabad, besides Maharaja Dahir ordered his son to ascertain the independence of Hind at all costs. Sindh is the wall of Hind, if Sindh falls, the invaders will inflict a terrible blow on Hind, which will cause ultimate damage to Hind. There shouldn’t come any kind of blow on such an ancient civilization and culture. What the people of Sindh had to endure, the people of Hind should not have to. Jaisingh use to follow his father word by word. Maharaja Dahir once came out hunting a lion and found that his pregnant wife had died and the new born child was alive.  Maharaja named his son Jayasingh as it was born through incision. Jaisingh was a very brave warrior. He realized that Muhammad bin Kashem’s army was very strong and had very good weapons, against which the Indus army was very weak. Jaisingh did not come in front of Muhammad bin Kashem’s army and organized the army in secret and started conducting the war. Jaisingh sought help from Drohar, the ruler of Multan, to protect Brahmanabad. Drohar also promised to help him in every way, but amidst of such circumstances Drohar’s sister proposed Jaisingh. But Jaisingh cultivating the situation outside rejected her proposal. The princess of Multan could not accept this insult at all and she accused Jai Singh of rape. This one incident changed everything. Drohar, the king of Multan joined Muhammad bin Kashem. The Arabs attacked both by sea and by land. Then the huge army of Multan also attacked Brahmanabad. Jaisingh alone led the battle bravely with his army but was defeated. Even the common people of Brahmanabad took up arms that day. I heard that Muhammad bin Kashem, agitated with the people of Brahmanabad, set the whole city in fire. That is why today like Deval we see the dire consequences of Brahmanabad.

—Then? What happened to Jaisingh?

—Jaisingh was alive. When he realized that there is no other way but to be captivated, then he fled. Because he would have been killed in captivity and he did not want to let Maharaja Dahir’s lineage end like this. At that time Maharaja Dahir’s brother was ruling Chittor. Jaisingh fled and took refuge to his uncle at Chittor. As far as I know, Jaisingh defeated Mohammad bin Qasim in a battle with the help of Chittor forces and nearby Rajput kings, after which Mohammad bin Qasim died due to the conspiracy of the Surya Devi. Then there was no one else to continue this attack. So maybe Hind was saved by the sacrifice of Sindh country.

Sabirbhai said “this meant that the Arabs were thwarted by the conspiracy of two scions of Dahir and Hind was saved.”

Jaisingh then moved to Kashmir, spent a few years under the auspices of the Maharaja of Kashmir, got married there, and then lived in complete secrecy to protect his lineage. Our family has some rules, our forefathers started living in Rahim Yar Khan and converted to Islam after independence, but still they follow some rules, like using the name Raja before the name of male family members and Rani before the name of female family members, every year observing the death anniversary of Maharaja Dahir on 2nd of July, greeting the guests with folded hands and offering puja to the Kali Maata temple in Aror on this special day of the year. Though we have become Muslims, we have to follow these rules. It has been almost thirteen hundred years we are following these rules and we have kept Jaisingh’s swords and ornaments with great care, they continue to bear the identity of our clan.

— Dr. Amir Khan, do you know where the tomb of Airavat is?

Hearing this question from Dr. Iqbal, Dr. Amir Khan became silent. He said, “Even if I knew, I would not have told you that, because it is one of the rules of our family, let Airavat sleep peacefully, and if he sleeps peacefully, it is good for our family.”

Sabirbhai requested many times, but Dr. Amir Khan did not agree to anything. Then they left for Rohri— Aror’s modern name. When Sabirbhai regretted to Dr. Iqbal that he should not have brought Iqbal to Dr. Amir Khan, Dr. Iqbal says, “you have done a very good job, after coming here I am sure now that Maharaja Dahir’s diary is kept inside the tomb of Airavat. We will have to look for a temple dedicated to Lord Indra after reaching Rohri, my intuition suggests somewhere like that there is a tomb of Airavat. (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-XI, Part-XII, Part-XIII , Part-XIV , Part-XV , Part-XVI, Part-XVII, Part-XVIII , Part-XIX, Part-XX, Part-XXI , Part-XXII, Part-XXIII , Part-XXIV , Part-XXV , Part-XXVI, Part-XXVII, Part-XXVIII, Part-XXIX, Part-XXX , Part-XXXI, Part-XXXII, Part-XXXIII , Part-XXXIV , Part-XXXV , Part-XXXVI , Part-XXXVII , Part-XXXVIII, Part-XXXIX, Part-XL , #Part-XLI , Part-XLII , Part-XLIII , Part-XLIV, Part-XLV 

______________________

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 post Maharaja Dahir – Resurgence of Sindh – Part-XLVI first appeared on Sindh Courier.

There is no air, no light, and no hope inside; only darkness covered with darkness. No sign of life, I can feel that my sisters’ vision was slowly getting blurred and after some time there is only darkness, intense darkness taking out life slowly and thus an epoch of Maharaj Dahir Sen terminated into a dark pit of suffocated life fighting to escape.

I learnt after arriving in Syria that before the advent of Islam in Syria, the pre Islamic people were idolaters who couldn’t accept the concept of this new religion. Therefore they were always engaged in a regular conflict with new religion. And those who didn’t convert, were looted, plundered and their women and girls were desecrated. At that time it had become a norm to the non-believers to bury their daughter alive just to escape the brutal desecration of them.

I couldn’t accept such cruel untimely death of my sisters. I couldn’t sleep for several days that haunted me day and night. Alas! Every day I thought that if I were able to bring them out of the pit, they were probably still alive. May be they are crying desperately day and night. It seems like the agony of my country Sindh was emerging out from the wells fracking the land. It’s a terrible pain which can’t be written down exactly. I have to bear it in my heart for the rest of my life.

In the meantime, one day I realized that I am pregnant; a new family member is coming; this brings some psychological changes which put effects in my health. Day by day my health starts to deteriorate. My limbs start to swallow along with increasing pain. But among all the bad, there is some good also, which cannot be denied. When I came to Syria, I met Nadia. Nadia, the wife of Abu Adil’s younger brother. I have rarely seen such a kind hearted person in my life. In this condition, she continuously came to console me day and night. Sometimes she comes and sits at my feet and cries. How many days I told her not to cry like that, but she says she is atoning for his sins.

One evening there was a heavy sandstorm outside, and I felt very ill. The legs were also very swollen. Nadia brought warm oil and was massaging on my feet. Then seeing her crying, I asked, Nadia, “Why do you sometimes cry like that? Today you have to express everything to me. I swear to you by your Allah.”

In fact, while staying among them, I was able to pick up their language to some extent. That’s why I had no problem talking to Nadia.

Surya Devi had become the inseparable existence with Sindhu Devi as if Surya Devi was living in Syria in the body of Sindhu. Surya Devi never dies. They live forever and take rebirth like the Phoenix.

Nadia told me that she was one of the prisoners on the ship that the Debal army rescued and took the passengers back to their homeland but unfortunately she was made captive again in her own country by the crusaders and sent her back to Baghdad again. Here she was bought by Omar who was the younger brother of Adil and got married to her. When she came to know that the royal girls of Sindh are brought to Syria as her sister in-law, that time she realized that this was the time to repay her gratitude to Sindh who once saved their lives from being concubines. From then she always try to be with them, serving them and later when she came to know about Surya Devi and Parimal who were the daughters of Sindhupati Dahir sen and their pathetic condition, she is dying from soul every day.

I asked her to come and sit near me. Then I said, “Everything that happens in this world, happens by God’s will. Whatever happened to the country of Sindh, was the destiny of Sindh. It was not possible for ordinary people like us to break the destiny. So remove all negative thoughts from your mind.”

Dr Iqbal noticed that at the beginning of the diary, where the date is mentioned, the writing is exactly similar to the handwriting of Sindhu Devi. So what does it signify? Maybe the date was changed by Sindhu Devi herself. Possibly she wanted to convey some message symbolically that one of the lineage of Dahir reached Syria and they were alive at that timeline after the death of Surya Devi. Surya Devi had become the inseparable existence with Sindhu Devi as if Surya Devi was living in Syria in the body of Sindhu. Surya Devi never dies. They live forever and take rebirth like the Phoenix.

Dr. Iqbal closed the diary and closed his eyes and let out a big sigh. (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-XI, Part-XII, Part-XIII , Part-XIV , Part-XV , Part-XVI, Part-XVII, Part-XVIII , Part-XIX, Part-XX, Part-XXI , Part-XXII, Part-XXIII , Part-XXIV , Part-XXV , Part-XXVI, Part-XXVII, Part-XXVIII, Part-XXIX, Part-XXX , Part-XXXI, Part-XXXII, Part-XXXIII , Part-XXXIV , Part-XXXV , Part-XXXVI , Part-XXXVII , Part-XXXVIII, Part-XXXIX, Part-XL , #Part-XLI , Part-XLII , Part-XLIII , Part-XLIV

_______________

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 post Maharaja Dahir – Resurgence of Sindh – Part-XLV first appeared on Sindh Courier.

The Caliph said, “You will have to suffer the consequences.”

I held Parimal’s hand tightly and said, “I am ready.”

On that day the Caliph ordered that I and Parimal should be buried alive.

I said to Caliph, “Every prisoner who are sentenced to death are asked for their last wish…”

Hearing that the Caliph turned towards us and asked, “What do you want?”

—before going to prison I want to spend some time in that room where we spent our last days with my sister Parimal and also I want to meet my two cousin sisters Sindhu and Maya for the last time.

Caliph ordered the guards to take us to our room. I just wanted some time to record the incident before death. I don’t know whether our sisters will be permitted to meet us. We are brought back in the room. Parimal sits quietly by my side and I start to keep records. The guards are waiting just outside the room. The burning candle is the only source of light here. Our shadows are terribly waving on the walls like death dance by dry dusty warm breeze flowing in the room. Trying desperately to finish an unfinished task, draining drops of moments from my remaining life to write the history, the death bell has already been struck, a few moments are remaining in our life, after a few minutes we will be thrown into the prison and possibly tomorrow with the rising sun our graves will be dug. I somehow developed an attachment with this room also. Parimal and I spent a lot of memorable moments of sorrow in this room together. This is the last space where sign of our life present. After that I have to march towards a dark realm of unknown. Right now I strongly resonate myself with my country Sindh, I can remember my family, my father and thousands and thousands of helpless people of Sindh. I don’t know how Sindh will get independent but there is a hope always, I want to go away from this Earth keeping this hope in my heart that one day I will return in my country which will not be under any kind of subjugation, it will free independent, as independent as a flying bird.. I was fearing that before my death I have to do some arrangement so that the daily entry of my diary should continue even after my death. History must be registered. At this moment Sindhu and Maya my sisters enter into the room quietly along with guards. They don’t know what already happened and what is going to happen with us. Sindhu come forward and sits beside me. Seeing me she cannot utter a single word but her cheeks are flowing with tears. I was speaking in Sindhi so the guards present there didn’t have the access to our conversation. I said, “Sindhu, I have reached at the edge of this life, everything is dark in front of my eyes. I can’t see anything. After some time we will be sent to prison and very possibly tomorrow we will be prosecuted. I don’t know if there is rebirth or not, but if I take birth again it is my wish to be born in the lap of my Sindhu desh again and again being the daughter of the great Maharaj Dahir. I want to embrace all of you again as my sisters, my family. We have spent a great household life and social life together. I spent my childhood, my adolescence on that holy land but today reaching at this young age I have to say bye to everybody, my mortal body will remain in this unknown land. Certainly you are realizing that our country Sindh has now immersed and is drowning further into a dark future. The kind of brutality and inhuman treatment and the atrocities are done by these barbaric beasts to us, to our people and to our father Dahir, I have documented all these in my diary. But I was afraid of keeping it safe, now I am relieved. I am giving my diary to you, you have to complete my unfinished task, now it is your responsibility to keep it safe and also from now on you will keep records of everything in it. You start this diary from there where I stopped. From today whatever happens to you, whatever you would know you will keep records of all. Being the princess of Sindh it is my order to you. It will be the documented evidence of the terrible pain and sufferings and brutal atrocities which we, our people, our country Sindh undergo through. Now I can die peacefully— Jay Sindhu Mata”

“I am Sindhu and Maya is my sister. We are captured from Rawar fort. When Rawar fort was captured by the army of Muhamad Bin Qasim we are being also captivated and were sent to here in Baghdad in a ship. There are a few more girls with us of royal families of Sindh province, we are sent separately unlike other captives. During the voyage other women and girls are brutally tortured and raped and ultimately they are sold in the slave markets like objects but surprisingly we are not even touched. After arriving here we came to know that we are brought specially as gifts for those who helped the Caliph in this victorious crusade by many ways. Our two sisters are gifted to a person name Abu Adil who supplied all the weapons for the troops and a special kind of stone pelting machinery which actually proved to be the most important factor in the war. Caliph gifted the fresh royal girls as a token of appreciation. Because if Abu Adil stopped supplying weapons, it would disrupt their crusade. I and my sister Maya was converted into Islam first by reading kalma before coming to Syria and get married to Abu Adil.

That day when the meeting was over with Surya Devi we were sent out of the room. Before that at the last moment Surya Devi exhaled deeply and secretly handed over her diary to me. Slowly all the burning flambeau outside and the flame of the candle of the room start dwindling by the wind as Surya Devi and Parimal begin their journey towards the prison. On each steps ahead darkness over darkness is casting like shadows all around and they slowly fading away into the obscurity. A brutal death awaited to those who plotted to assassinate the promising young Arab commander Qasim.

After coming to Syria, I came to know from my husband that on the next morning after our meeting, Parimal and Surya Devi was taken to an open space, seeing all the arrangements it’s confirmed that they will be buried inside the well alive. At that place many people were waiting to see, enjoy and participate in their execution, they are pelting stones on them. Surya Devi and Parimal were shackled and even their mouths were tied so that they can’t even cry or scream in pain. Their entire body was drenched with blood oozing out of their scars. The earth beneath their feet were stained with blood. There was scorching heat outside, the sandy path got extremely hot, too hot to keep the foot on. I can feel that their feet were burning. I know Surya Didi from my childhood, we grew up together, and I was always very close to her so I can feel her mind. It seemed I was given the death penalty which I have to suffer. Despite of the tremendous pain she was silent and strangely extended her eyes towards the vast stretch of dry rugged desert. She could see mirages everywhere. In the mirage she was seeing the reflection of her beloved motherland Sindh. As It was oscillating in mild breeze, as if mother Sindhu is gently flowing by the temple of Aror— kalimata temple. The rattles of the shackles tied on their hands and feet seem to be the swinging sounds of the temple bell. He can see her father Dahir cladded with white robes standing on bank of river Sindhu with white beard as if he is staring at Surya smiling, appreciating her valour  and intelligence of taking revenge of her father’s death and now he is calling Surya to follow him and turning towards the vast stretch he disappeared gradually in the horizon. People were continuously throwing stones on them with increasing eagerness as they were rightfully doing their duty, because they are kafirs and they have no place to an Islamic land and not even in jannah. Besides, due to their conspiracy the Caliph has to lose one of his brightest commander — the Gazi.

They are brought to a place where two life sized wells were already dugout. Surya Devi and Parimal Devi were thrown into the well and start to fill it with sand, stones and dust. Everyone was throwing stones on them. A pool of blood clotted inside of both the well. My beloved sisters were slowly buried alive. (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-XI, Part-XII, Part-XIII , Part-XIV , Part-XV , Part-XVI, Part-XVII, Part-XVIII , Part-XIX, Part-XX, Part-XXI , Part-XXII, Part-XXIII , Part-XXIV , Part-XXV , Part-XXVI, Part-XXVII, Part-XXVIII, Part-XXIX, Part-XXX , Part-XXXI, Part-XXXII, Part-XXXIII , Part-XXXIV , Part-XXXV , Part-XXXVI , Part-XXXVII , Part-XXXVIII, Part-XXXIX, Part-XL , #Part-XLI , Part-XLII , Part-XLIII 

__________________

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 post Maharaja Dahir – Resurgence of Sindh – Part-XLIV first appeared on Sindh Courier.