Review of the book ‘My Country Malir’ authored by Pandhi Faqeer Jokhio
Farooq Sargani
“My country Malir” منھنجو ملڪ ملير is the autobiography of Pandhi Faqeer Jokhio. He was a committed social worker and a very devoted man who did remarkable work in the Malir countryside. He opened his eyes during the British era in 1932. In this book, he shares his childhood memories. Pandhi writes, “I used to get up early in the morning and return in the evening. There was poverty. Before leaving for school I would skip over food from yesterday’s meal.” Early in life, he went to his uncle’s shop; at times he went to the jungle and small hills to feed the goats. Pandhi learned that goats did not have tongues—conscious but always ready to move on the indication of the goatherd. As he grew up, his family’s conditions improved; they opened a milk shop in the Empress Market Sadder, which was known as the “Mumbai Dairy.” During this period, when he was sitting in the shop, he observed and wrote down in his book: “At the moment in Sadder, where people usually wear Ajrak and Paghari, I now see the same Sadder without our innocent Sindhi. My heart laments that our people were gone; they became countryless in their country.”
Each page of his book recalls the fantastic past history of Malir. Moreover, Pandhi shared reflections about his mother; he mentioned, “My mother has an immense love for this soil, and in our house there used to be soil-made dishes and other cooking pots.” He reconstructed the vanished culture, brotherhood, fertile lands, and waterfalls. After reading this book, I understand that he wrote with a clean heart. Through this book, one can understand that Malir was a country where various tribes lived in harmony and always followed the orders of the Jam of Malir. Another crucial factor is that, in the past, there was no distinction between the various tribes of Malir. In Malir society, both men and women played active roles, and women also participated in decision-making. According to him, “There was a woman named Bhambhi who used to make decisions and negotiate on various disputes in her village.”
Another important point is that the historical culture of the Malir countryside is beautifully written in his book, as well as the devastation of Malir. The people of Malir lived far from the city in the jungle and mountains, foraging for animals, cultivating patches of land, and spending life happily. But with the passage of time, as stated in the book, “In 1940, five thousand acres of fertile land belonging to the Jukhio tribes were captured by the British army at midnight during World War II, and the Malir Cantt was established.” Therefore, in 1953, he founded an organization named “Awami Hamdard,” but that organization sustained only for a short time. He notes, “I grieve that the organization could not survive because Malir became trapped in the caste system; first of all they dismissed Hindus, and eventually in 1960 it brought a drastic end.” But he did not tire; he persisted in his journey as a social worker. In 1983, he founded “Taaleem Islam Trust.” After that, in 1998, he started the practice of arranging collective marriages for poor people who could not afford dowries and other marriage expenses. He helped many needy people from time to time.
In addition, he reconstructed the memories of his past in his writing. He writes, “I love the soil of my country. I am speaking from the time period when the Malir Valley in their youth appeared charming and beautiful—gardens of fruit, land decorated with flowers, lush green mountains, natural waterfalls, and dense forests protected by various trees. The fertile lands were cultivated with grain and fruit, with water drawn by camels and bulls; lands were full of wheat, sorghum, pearl millet, finger millet, sesame, mung bean, guar (cluster bean), mustard, jamboo (Java plum), onion, and potato. People lived off livelihoods shared by shepherds, goats, cows, and buffalo, with groups of camels, wolves, monitor lizards, jackals, foxes, striped hyenas, porcupines, and many other grazing and roaming herds once existing in large numbers.” However, the people of Malir were against selling land, and for them land was like a mother; that is why they did not sell land to anyone. Besides, they were against cutting trees because they believed trees are an honor to them. But the norms and values of society changed.
Conclusion: After reading, I find this to be an amazing book. From Sindhi Muslim society to Gadap, Malir, the whole region was once fertile in the past; there were small hills and forests here, even during the British era. After the partition, unplanned urban development, the interests of builders, mafia, sardars, feudal lords, capitalists, and the government’s deliberate displacement of local indigenous people led to the vanishing of Malir’s identity.
Today, Malir has lost much of its charm, beauty, and vibrancy. It has dried up, become barren, and turned into something like a lifeless skeleton, to the extent that Malir’s very identity has been erased. Although urban life, like a monster, has already devoured a large part of Malir, there is still a need to lay the foundation of a new Malir Valley in order to save whatever remains.
In short, I offer a few suggestions to progressive people of Malir, Karachi, Sindh, and all over the country. We have lost the past and the present; let us now save the future of Malir with courage and bravery, remove the hurdles, and write a golden history with our own hands. We need a green belt for Malir, and we must create a new history of Malir. This will happen only when we love our history, civilization, and culture. We must organize a movement to stop further encroachment into Malir.
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The author is freelance writer. He has graduated from Karachi University
