Seventh Majlis ~~ saatvii;N majlis

 

Sayyid Abbas Narrates his Own Story

    Sayyid Abbas, having read the will, then began to recount the story of his upbringing:

    Until I was eight or nine, my mother did not send me to a maktab, but rather educated me herself at home, for three hours in the morning and for two hours in the afternoon. These five hours were devoted to my education, but otherwise, from early morning until late at night, my time was entirely spent in other tasks. After the morning prayers, I took a man with me and went out for a walk in the forest. I returned when the sun came up, bathed in hot water, put on clean clothes, and ate whatever was prepared for breakfast. At that point it was usually 7:00 and time for my lessons. Mother sat with me until 10:00 and taught me to read. After that, until 11:00, I played in the stables with my nursemaid's elder son, Ghulam Imam, who was about a year older than me. Boys from the surrounding neighborhood used to come and join us there to play. Coming back at 11:00, I had my meal, and then looked at the newspaper until noon. After that, I went to a calligrapher who lived in our neighborhood and practiced nasta'liq with him for an hour. At 1:00 I returned, said my afternoon prayers, and then studied with Mother again until 3:00. From 3:00 until 5:00 I practiced my shooting. Islam Beg, who had been a servant in the household since my father's boyhood, was a very good shot. He took me to the stables and put up a target and taught me to shoot. Thereafter, I said my late afternoon prayers. At 5:30, during the hot weather I took another bath; otherwise I went for an outing on horseback outside the city walls. On my return in the evening, I said my sunset prayers and then ate my dinner. After dinner, I played around in the courtyard for a while, and then it was time for the evening prayers. I performed my ablutions, said my prayers, and then read for an hour or so. After that, I sat with Mother and listened to what she had to say until 10:00. During that time, she sometimes quizzed me on what 1 had learned that day, or sometimes she told me a story, or sometimes she gave me good advice. Then at 10:00 I went to bed.

    Now I should tell you a few more details of my childhood. Mother always had sturdy clothes made for me . She gave as reasons for this first, that fine clothes need a lot of care, and secondly, that the body is not properly covered, and finally, that in light clothes, one doesn't sweat adequately.  She felt it was better for the health if the pores were kept open.  That way, people avoided all sorts of illnesses.  She also admonished me always to wear clean clothes, and she belittled people who went around in filthy clothes, so that I would become averse to wearing them and always wear clean ones. I cannot remember if I ever wore an embroidered  cap or shirts with decorated collars or borders on the hems. But I do remember that if anyone came visiting with a boy in fancy clothes,  Mother would say to her visitor in my presence: "My dear! You dress your boy in such fancy clothes, one might mistake him for a hijra/1/ or a woman!"

    In hot weather, cold weather, the rains—whatever the weather—she made me wear an undergarment under an angarkha,/2/ and said that under no circumstances should I ever expose my breast. She also placed tremendous emphasis on bathing. Except for days when I was ill, I don't believe I ever missed a bath. She explained that the sweat would clog my pores if it weren't washed off, and that one should bathe daily so that dirt did not collect on the body.

    When eating, I was under orders to eat less bread, since eating too much grain causes the body to become fat and the heart and mind also to become thick. But I could eat all the meat or milk I wanted. She also ordered me not to eat my fill at any one time. "If you want, you may eat four times a day, but each time you finish eating, you should remain a little bit hungry. Eating your fill impedes digestion and makes you sluggish. Your hands and feet will also become sluggish and your mind dull, and all kinds of illnesses will ensue. Also chew each mouthful well before swallowing."

    She also prohibited my drinking too much water as sternly as she forbade me doing bad deeds, as she said that any man who could not control his thirst was no better than an animal. A thirst may be false, and to drink water at such times is harmful. After eating, one should refrain from drinking water for at least an hour. Nor is it a good idea to drink water right after waking up, at the end of a walk, or after working hard.

    As for my recreation, it so happened that there was a large unpaved enclosure not very far from our house in which cattle and fodder and straw to feed them were kept. There, we made a wrestling pit where we played and wrestled. The men who supervised us were under strict orders from Mother not to let us play games other than with bat and ball, kabaddi,/3/ running races, or wrestling. Islam Beg, who taught me how to shoot, was a very experienced rifleman who knew many tricks, but Mother said that he should not teach me anything fancy, only how to fire straight at a target. Similarly, the horseman who taught me how to ride was a great master of his art and also had a great deal of experience. But he was under orders to teach me only the necessary skills: to squeeze the horse firmly with my thighs, to understand the use of the reins, to have a proper seat, not to remain weak in any of the gaits: walk, trot, canter, or gallop. In riding at a gallop, I should not lose my grip on the horse's flanks. I should be acquainted with all the horse's dispositions and moods. I should be able to bridle him, saddle him, tie the girth properly, curb him, attach a cropper, and know how to use a curry comb, so I would not be deficient in any tasks of harnessing and grooming. I should also know the cures for the common maladies of horses. In the same way, the man who taught me handwriting was a master of the calligraphic arts. He knew naskh, gulshan, ghubar, tughra, and many other styles besides. But Mother told him to teach me only nasta'liq./4/ I should know how to write well enough so that anyone seeing my hand would not be contemptuous, and would be able to read it easily. More calligraphy than that was superfluous.

    The room that my mother gave me to live in was located on one side of the courtyard. All the other rooms in the house were built in the old style, but my father had built this room, for himself in a new way. It had good ventilation from all directions, East-West and North-South, and all around it was a veranda about a meter and a half wide plus three meters of open ground for flower beds. I was told to live in this room day and night, and also to keep my books and other possessions there. All the other rooms in the house were equally solidly built, but she wouldn't let me live anywhere else.

   She said: "All those rooms are filled with air that doesn't circulate. The properties of air are much like those of water. When water stands for a few days without circulating, it goes bad. So too when the air in a house does not circulate, illness results. For the air to circulate, fresh air must come from outside. For this reason, doctors have said that there should be free space on all sides of a house. Son! In olden times, people were very straightforward, and they built their houses in the old style because that was the only way they knew.  Your father, however, had studied all the latest methods of construction and had great knowledge of these   questions. Several times he declared his intention to tear down the old house and build himself one in the new style. But the old place was a symbol of his past and an inheritance from his elders, so I strongly counselled against doing such a thing. Instead, he had this room built."

    Until I started going to school, Mother spent a lot of time raising me properly. Actually, it is not very difficult to improve a child's behavior, but she supervised my upbringing to such an extent that whatever I am today is largely the result of her attentions. She was able to do this, not only because her own habits and qualities served as examples to anyone who observed them, but also because she trained both the outdoor and household servants with such care that, whether men or women, they all became slaves to her will. From the moment she decided that there was no more important a task for a mother than to bring up her son properly, Mother exercised as much restraint over me as the servants did. Whether I stayed in the house or went out, admonishing voices reached me from all sides, saying: "Look here, what are you doing? That is not good! That is very naughty! This is what you should do, not that!" And so on.

   Then too, Mother treated ms in such a way that I always wanted to do what she said. I cannot recall if Mother ever so much as slapped me, nor if she spoke harshly to me more than once or twice. Nevertheless, I was so afraid of her that I was very subdued in her presence. The truth of the matter is that I never even laughed out loud in front of her, and playing before her was out of the question. It was not her custom to kiss me, embrace me, or show undue affection. Not only that, but the servants terrorized me with threats of her displeasure. And I, who had never felt so much as a blow, so lived in fear of a beating that I did as I was told. Finally, it was her habit, if I committed some offense, to ignore my existence and treat me as a complete stranger. And if I committed the same offense three or four times, she took me aside and quietly explained: "Look here, son! I have ignored this offense of yours this time, but if you ever do it again, I will disgrace you in front of everyone. If you have any self-respect, then don't ever do such a thing again!"

    Up until I was seven or eight years old, she always advised me to eat and wear the kinds of things I found at home: "He who picks up the bad habits of wearing fine clothes and eating rich foods, when fallen on hard times will end up a beggar, a gambler, or a thief. Don't grab a second morsel before you've finished the first. While eating, don't let your clothes be soiled by the food. Don't start to eat before your elders. Don't get into habits that disgust others: shaking your fingers, chewing loudly, letting things drop from your mouth onto the cloth, belching, taking food out of your mouth and putting it back onto the plate. Such execrable manners are to be avoided. Similarly, you should not spit in others' direction, nor blow your nose in front of them, nor sit with your back turned toward them. If anyone offers you something, don't take it without the proper formalities." She also kept me from other bad habits: begging, interrupting and interfering in other peoples' conversations, chattering foolishly, cursing, swearing oaths, lying, sleeping in the afternoons or not getting up early in the mornings, bending down in the dark without first groping (to check for obstructions), sitting in the sun, basking before a fire, not paying attention while out walking, walking too quickly or too slowly, not keeping my feet together, and going about with a bare torso.

    Most of all, however, she emphasized conversational mistakes which should be avoided. First, she taught ms the rules of what to say to older people, and then what to say to younger people. She advised me: "Never use the tu form, even with the poorest sweeper, rather use tum. With elders, or with people your own age whom you do not know very well, use ap or hazrat (honored one), and with a person who is your equal in age or status and with whom you are on familiar terms, you may use ap or tum./5/ To describe the arrival of an elder, say tashrif lana ("to bring your greatness in," to come in), and their departure, tashrif le jana ("to take your greatness away," to take leave). When they summon someone, use yad karna (to remember), and their health should be termed mizaj mubarak (your blessed condition) or mizaj-e 'ali (your great/high condition). In  greeting them, say taslim (obeisance), or adab (respects), or kornish (salutations), or bandagi (at your service). Call their home a daulat khana (a wealthy house), and what they say farmana (to decree), or else irshad karna (to instruct or command). Their children are sahibzada or sahibzadi (son/daughter of a gentleman), and their name is ism-e-mubarak (blessed name),  or ism-e sami (exalted name), or ism-e-sharif (noble name). Their native place should be called watan-e-ma'luf (beloved country)./6/ In a like manner, you should refer to your own arrival as hazir hona (to be in attendance), and to what you say as arz karna (to submit). Refer to your own house as a gharib khana (a poor house), and to  your children as bandazada or bandazadi (son/daughter of your slave)./7/ You should refer to yourself as 'we,' but to use the titles Sayyid, Shaikh, or Mirza with your name is foolish and bad form."

   In addition to this, whenever I pronounced something wrong, she would immediately correct me. One day I happened to say phul walon ki sail./8/ Mother overheard me, smiled and said: "Son! Most of the fine points of the culture of our city have disappeared, and now you are also butchering our poor language—the only thing left—with your pronunciation! Do you want to destroy that too? Listen! From this day forth, whenever you hear someone say an unfamiliar word, come and ask me whether it is correct or not. There are a number of errors of pronunciation that ignorant or street people make which should not be repeated. For example, sail for sair (trip), majaz for mizaj (health/condition), nukhsa for nuskha (copy/model), qabutar for kabutar (pigeon), phattar for patthar (stone), darwazza for darwaza (door/gateway), buzaar for baazaar (market), 'underprivileged' for deprived, 'disinformation' for untruth, and so on; there are hundreds of examples!/9/ Talking in such a low-class manner is unforgivable. There are even some errors that one hears from the educated as well as the uneducated, such as: tabe'dar (dependent), badshahat (kingdom), khairad (charity, alms), chaku (knife), bakrid (a festival), murraghan (fatty food), shaabaash and shaabashi (bravo, congratulations), lachar (helpless), and so on./10/ There is no great harm in such (relatively educated) mistakes.

    "In addition, there are a number of unique words that women use, but which men should never use. For example: nauj, dur par, chhain phuin, ab se dur (all interjections meaning God forbid; heaven forfend), chal dur (get out of here, begone), sidharna (to go away), muva (dead), picchalpai (demoness, witch), bodli (transvestite/whore), vari, acchi, bua (terms of endearment), bhayya, bhaina (brother, younger sister—also terms of endearment used with other women), ujra (ruined, a family in decline), marne joga, janihar (worthy of death, deadly—curses), pinda (body), nikhattu (worthless, useless), nigora (unfortunate, without support), bakhtavari (lucky), rasna basna (fortunate, one who stays at home), jhulsa (fiery, quarrelsome), ag lago, bhar men ja'e, chulhe men ja'e (burn up, go into the fire/stove—curses, the equivalent of "go to hell"), dar gor (into the grave—another curse), and so on./11/ Never use these words in front of anyone! They won't say anything to you, but they will certainly say to themselves that this boy has started talking like a woman from hanging around his mother too much. Men must make especially sure that they know their own language well and speak it correctly before they think about learning other languages. If they don't, this proverb illustrates what will happen:
        The crow, wishing the goose to imitate
        Forgot how to walk in his own gait.

    "Let me reiterate my point that whenever you hear someone say a new word, you should ascertain whether that person is speaking authoritatively or not. If he is an illiterate bazaar vendor, then don't imitate his expressions until you hear them spoken by a more highly educated person. You should also keep in mind that you don't learn proper speech from reading and writing, but rather from paying attention. He who only reads a language does not have any idea about its pronunciation and will always make mistakes. Whereas he who pays attention, whether illiterate or from abroad, will be able to learn the language quickly."

    Besides all this, she taught me a variety of other subjects from time to time: the meaning of Arabic and Persian words in Urdu; the names of the months in Arabic, English, Persian, and Hindi; the explanation of the Hijri, Christian, Fasli, and Vikram calendars, and how to calculate the date from one to the other;/12/ the forms of address in letters; how to set a clock, how to tell time; how to read a thermometer and a compass, how to use a microscope and a telescope, and how to read maps. Thus, she taught me verbally how to use all sorts of instruments and other similarly useful information.

    Finally, it so happened that a woman from Baghdad, who knew how to speak not only Arabic but also Persian very well, had come to Delhi for a visit. Since she was very old and far from home, and it seemed that she didn't have a penny to her name, she decided that her days were numbered and that she might as well spend them here. She therefore indicated interest in becoming a household companion in return for her upkeep. When she arrived in Delhi, she was staying at the home of Nawab Zil-Qadir ud-Daulah. My mother heard good things about her and invited her over one day. From this meeting, my mother saw that she really did know both languages very well, so she employed her, undertook to meet her expenses, gave her a place to live, and looked after her so well that she never had reason to go elsewhere. From time to time when I was free from other work, I sat and talked to her. Although I had not studied much Arabic and Persian, I learned to speak them both quite fluently from our conversations. My  pronunciation was good, and I never felt shy about speaking them.

    Well, so much for my oral or informal instruction. Now I should tell you about my reading and other formal studies. When I was in my seventh year and had learned one full section plus five Suras/13/ of the Quran, Mother started teaching me Urdu and arithmetic. To recount all the details of the education she gave me through my ninth year would take too long, but a few of the things I remember from those years were: First, from the day I began to read my first book, Mother kept nothing in my room except my school materials. The room contained my books, tablets, slate, pens, ink, paper,  blotter, pencils, erasers, all those things, and had maps of various countries hanging on the walls. Aside from my writing desk, my bed and bedding, a candlestick, floor coverings, and a clock, there was nothing else in the room to distract me from my studies, as if the sole purpose of the room was my education. When Mother began to teach me to read, I wasn't as enthusiastic about it as she thought I should be, even after the first ten days to two weeks. As long as she sat and taught me, I studied dutifully for fear of her, but as soon as she got up to do something else, I started playing around. So in order to increase my enthusiasm, she invited Ghulam Imam, my nursemaid's elder son, to join in the lessons. He was older than I was, and also had a much better memory, so I began to worry that he would humiliate me. Once or twice Mother congratulated him on his reading and didn't say anything to me, so I was hurt by that. In addition, she started giving us examinations, so whether I wanted to or not, I had to work very hard.

    Mother's habit was that she would ask us more questions than she would teach us (so we had to learn on our own). The first thing she did when we sat down for a lesson was to ask us a few questions about the last lesson. And in the evenings, when it was our habit to sit together, she also asked me some questions about the day's lessons. Thursdays were regularly set aside for examinations. Then she would ask such easy questions that it did not take me long to answer them, since on exam days, I was always nervous and thus even slower-witted than usual. When she asked a more complex question which obliged me to give a longer recitation, she would also correct my pronunciation and style of speaking. While correcting my speech patterns, she would also ask about the meaning of the book from time to time. When I couldn't explain its meaning clearly, she would go no further. In this way, my understanding or lack of understanding of the text became clear.

    I learned Urdu style largely from reading the newspaper./14/ A weekly newspaper from Agra was delivered to our house. First Mother read it, and then she gave it to me to read. Whatever I read during the day, I had to tell Mother about it that evening, so partly out of fear and partly out of a  growing interest in the news, I read the newspaper with avidity. On the seventh day, when the newspaper delivery was expected, I waited for the mailman with such anticipation that I would run in and out of the house watching for him.

    My mother was particularly concerned about teaching me a good reading style. First, she had me go through the lesson pronouncing each word. Then, she had me read the whole lesson phrase by phrase. If I read it badly, or ran one phrase into another, or dropped an izafat,/15/ she would repeat the correct way to me several times. Then, if I still didn't read it properly, she would mimic me and make me feel ashamed. I was also in the habit of reading very softly. She  would sit far from me and call out: "Son! Read so that I can hear!" So whether I liked it or not, I had to read it louder; but if I began to shout too much while reading, she would say: "Son!, you should read the book as if you were talking to someone. You should consider the book as a friend sitting beside you, with whom you are conversing."

    As for the things that we had to memorize, she drilled us so assiduously that we became exhausted. Mother worked so hard with us on the multiplication tables that I thought we would go on memorizing them for the rest of our lives. Every day I recited four or five tables for her, but she said: "My boy! You still can't say them quickly enough! Work on them some more!"

    So I said to Ghulam Imam: "Brother! The day we get finished with these multiplication tables, I will distribute an anna's worth of sweets in celebration!"

    When we didn't concentrate enough, and thus babbled nonsense during our recitation, she would use various stratagems to concentrate our thoughts. Sometimes she would say: "Whoever gets the right answer will get a half day off tomorrow." Or she would say: "I will give something nice to whomever pleases me." And when we had worked carefully and recited well, she always fulfilled her promises and said: "Well! If I hadn't tempted you (with a reward) you wouldn't have put your mind to it!"

    I should also mention the day that I came back from seeing a juggler's show, and upon my arrival my mother gave me some problems to work out. But my mind was still on the spectacle, so I couldn't concentrate. I wrote down any old thing, but my answers to the problems were mostly wrong, so she made me write them three or four times. Even then, they weren't all correct, so she said: "Son! If you write those problems quickly and correctly, I will tell you an interesting story."

    So I put on my thinking cap and did all the problems correctly, and then I said: "Mother dear! what is it that you were going to tell me?"

    She replied: "Son! Have you been to see the cook lately to ask her how she is?"

    I said: "She was fine. What happened? What's the matter?"

    She said: "When you were outside, a peacock came and was dancing on the roof. The cook came out of the kitchen to go put the ghi pot away in the storeroom, and was looking behind her, watching the peacock. Unfortunately, there was a five-kilo weight in front of her and she stumbled against it. She sprawled out flat, the pot fell down and broke, the ghi was spoiled and she hurt herself. Go and take a look."

    I said: "Wasn't that a stupid thing for the cook to do!"

    Mother replied: "Why blame her? When someone is doing one thing and has his mind on something else, such things are bound to happen. I've told you many times that when I ask you to do something, it is time to forget about games and shows and concentrate on the job at hand."

    So, to make a long story short, by the time I was nine years old, Mother had seen to it that I had a good bit of the Quran on the tip of my tongue, and that my Urdu reading style was quite satisfactory. In Persian, I had read the Gulistan, Bostan, Akhlaq-e Muhsini,/16/ and a beginning work of fiqh;/17/ and in Arabic, a few beginning grammar books. In arithmetic I had completed the four main functions and fractions. She had also taught me Indian geography and history, and I could write exercises and copy a few verses in nasta'liq calligraphy. But Mother had not yet sent me to a maktab. For this reason, the word spread throughout our entire clan that the late Mir Amjad Ali's son had not yet gone to school. Other insinuations were made: "If Mir Sahib were alive, the boy would have progressed much further in his studies! Just see how he is tied to his mother's apron strings! God only knows if that boy will ever learn to read and write properly!" And so on.

    Next to our house, there were two other houses, in one lived Dadi Jan, and in the other, Phuphi Amman./18/ The outside entrances to the three houses were separate, but there were low doors inside so that the women could come and go from one to the others. Dadi came over rarely, but Phuphi Amman came over every day, and whenever her daughter, Khadija Khatun—whom my mother had also taught to read and write—came back home from her in-laws' to visit, she too came and spent the whole day at our house. I well remember when I was in my ninth year—it was during the month of Ramzan/19/ —one day Phuphi Amman was visiting us, and Apa Khadija/20/ was also there. During the conversation, they said to my mother:

    "Dear! How old is Sayyid Abbas now?"

    She replied: "He will turn ten shortly after Bakr 'Id."

    Auntie said: "It seems to me that perhaps you never intend to send him to school! Nowadays, the custom is to send a boy to school following his bismillah. Your son, God save him, has almost reached the age of ten, and yet he has never so much as seen a teacher! Tell me the truth, what are your intentions? God forbid that he should remain ignorant! In our family, no man has ever been uneducated."

    Mother answered: "My good woman! He is certainly studying! He is studying very well, and, God willing, after his tenth birthday I will send him to school."

    Auntie became displeased and said: "Dear! What you say is positively extraordinary! If children could study at home, why would anyone send them to a teacher? I have never heard of anyone's child studying in such a manner! Tell me when, in God's name, does the boy study? Whenever I hear anything about it, I hear that he is out for a walk, taking a bath, playing kabaddi or with a bat and ball in the stables, wrestling and running around with other children, shooting at targets, or off somewhere riding horseback, and so on. Or I hear that he sits at home and listens to his mother tell stories, and that Bari Bi/21/ distracts his mind with all sorts of talk, and that you never punish or scold him. Well! That is a fine way to educate him! As long as a child is not locked up with an ustad the whole day long, he will never get an education! In my opinion, you should have put him in a madrasa/22/ long ago. He has already become irresponsible. All this running around isn't good! Don't you realize how much my brother, God rest his soul, valued knowledge? Your dereliction of duty must have a terrible effect on his soul!"

    Hearing this, my mother smiled and said: "Elder sister! If you and I and my Sayyid Abbas live for another ten years, then, God willing, I will show you the results of this 'dereliction.' If your brother were alive today, he would praise my efforts, I am sure. You are older than I, and I must respect your views, but I beg your pardon! You are not experienced in these matters. To educate a child is a very difficult thing. It should be done neither too early nor too late. One should neither admonish a child too much, nor spoil him too much. One should not expect him to do so much that he becomes discouraged, nor give him so much free time that he becomes irresponsible. A child is like an unbroken animal with respect to education: to bring him under control is no laughing matter. You don't have to go very far for an example. Not too long ago, your daughter Khadija Khatun studied with me. She came and got her education here, starting at the age of five. Now tell me, is there any other girl in our clan who, by God's blessing, is as clever and intelligent as she? Ask her if I ever had to beat her or scold her! I never gave her more than three or four hours of lessons a day, nor did I constrain her in any way before she was eight years old./23/ Didn't she too play all sorts of games?"

    Auntie responded: "Yes, but why bring my daughter into the discussion? She's just a girl. It makes no difference whether she is educated or not. In our clan there are hundreds of illiterate girls. Even so, they get husbands. And aren't they accepted in society? But, God forbid, if a gentleman's son stays uneducated! Sister! Whether you like it or not, I have never in my entire life heard of a boy who was educated by his mother. But you have your own understanding of the matter, and you refuse to listen to any advice."

    Mother said: "Tell me the truth, sister, when Khadija was five or six months old, how did you give her medicine?"

    Auntie replied: "I gave it to her with a spoon, why do you ask?"

    Mother then said: "And if, while you were giving it to her. she started to cry, did you still make her take it?"

    Auntie said: "Well, no. As was the custom at that time, I gave her to the wet nurse to have a little milk and after she calmed down, I gave her a little more medicine."

    Mother said: "And now, when she is indisposed, do you still give her medicine in a spoon, or do you give her a full measure in a cup?"

    Auntie replied: "Why, I am not so stupid that I would spoon-feed her now!"

    So Mother said: "Then you must understand what I am trying to say. As far as I am concerned, educating a child and getting him to take bitter medicine are just alike. For this reason, as long as the child doesn't understand the advantages of an education, it is necessary to give him lessons just as you give medicine, in small quantities. When he is overwhelmed by studying, he should be allowed to play to his heart's content. So I never take away play time. What you consider to be 'irresponsibility' or 'dereliction' is, if you ask me, just as beneficial as the time spent studying. Thus, if my son spends five hours a day studying, and learns to speak Arabic and Persian with Bari Bi, and then sits with me for an hour or so each evening, he has profited sufficiently from his studies. In the evenings, I first ask him a few questions about his lessons, and then, if I tell him a story, it also contains advice or a moral. You can give a person advice or forbid him to do all sorts of things, and it will all go in one ear and out the other. Eut if you tell him the same thing in story form, it will make a great impression. I remember that my own mother once told me this story:
 
    "Once upon a time, some gentleman's son was being married. The groom had borrowed his best friend's ceremonial shawl to wear for the occasion. When the groom's procession arrived at the bride's house, someone asked: 'Which one is the groom?' The friend from whom the groom had borrowed the shawl was standing in the crowd and answered: 'The groom is the one sitting over there, but his shawl is a borrowed one."'

    "The poor groom, overhearing this, was very ashamed, and taking off the shawl, he returned it to his friend, who then said: 'Brother! Please forgive me. I have been greatly at fault,' and gave the shawl back to the groom.

    "After a while, a second person came along and asked the same question and received the answer: 'Sir! The groom is the one over there and the shawl is his as well.'

   "The groom again took off the shawl and threw it down and said, 'God save me from such small-minded benefactors!' The friend again made humble apologies and gave the shawl back to him.

   "Then, a third person came along and asked the same thing and received this terse reply: 'Sir! The groom is the one over there, and as for the shawl, it requires no comment.'

    "So again, the unfortunate groom gave him back the shawl, and thereafter he never borrowed anything from that friend again.

    "From the day that I heard that story, I have never wanted to boast of good turns that I had done for anyone This went to such an extent that once, while my mother was still alive, one evening about 10:00 or 11:00, I was sitting and sewing when Mughlani's daughter, sleeping nearby, woke up feeling thirsty and asked for water. I was very busy with my stitching, but I got up and gave her a drink of water. My mother was awake at the time. The next morning, putting on a deliberately difficult air, she asked me: 'Dear, last night you just sat there sewing; why didn't you get up and give the little girl a drink?'

    "I suffered her anger, for I could not say that at that time, I had, in fact, done just as she was suggesting. I was afraid that she would think I was the kind of person who brags about good deeds. When mother realized what I was afraid of, she came and embraced me and said: 'Daughter! When someone has accused you wrongly, it is not wrong to admit doing someone a good turn!'

   "And one other thing, concerning your remark about how it is less necessary to educate girls. If you ask me, it is even more necessary to educate women than men. Tell me, elder sister! Could you swear to me that you don't get worried when a letter arrives from your husband, and there is no one in the house to read it? And if by the afternoon no one turns up to read it, and there is no one around to write a prompt answer, don't you get distressed? In a similar situation, an illiterate man can always go out and find someone to read the letter to him."

*on to the Eighth Majlis*

 

= = = = = = = = = = =

/1/ hijra: eunuch; female impersonator; transvestite entertainer.

/2/ angarkha: loose overshirt with a front yoke and side opening which sometimes exposes one breast.

/3/ kabaddi: traditional Indian game, described in Shurreef, Qanoon-e-Islam, app., p. lxi, as follows: ''a game among boys who divide themselves into two parties, one of which takes its station on one side of a line made on the ground, and the other on the other. One boy, shouting: kabaddi, kabaddi, passes this line and endeavours to touch one of those on the opposite  side. If he is able to do this and return to his own party, the boy that was so touched is supposed to be slain..." and so on, alternatively, until all on one side are "slain," the other side winning.

/4/ Different styles of calligraphy; naskh, the standard Arabic script; gulshan, a florid, ornamental script; ghubar, a delicate, miniature script; tughra, "imperial" script used for signatures and headings; nasta'liq, the standard script for Urdu and Persian.

/5/ tu, tum, and ap: forms of the second person pronoun "you" in ascending order of formality.

/6/ All of these are polite or formal forms of expression used with one's elders or superiors. Some have fallen into disuse; others are still heard in polite society.

/7/ All of these are forms of self-deprecation, again used to honor one's superiors.

/8/ The  proper pronunciation should be phul walon ki sair, referring to the annual flower festival in Mehrauli, near Delhi.

/9/ These examples are somewhat like saying "nucular" for nuclear in English, common but uncouth. I have defined the correct terms (the mispronunciations are usually meaningless), but the meanings are irrelevant to Zubaida Khatun's point. The last two examples are somewhat harder to translate; I have tried to capture the sense with examples of bureaucratic "newspeak," also a common but uncouth affliction of today's language.

/10/  Some of these examples are slight mistakes of usage, others are  mispronunciations, and some have become common usage today. Tabe'dar is an Arabic word with a Persian suffix, thus an improper compound, but it is commonly used. Badshahi is preferable to badshahat. Khairad (which actually means lathe) is a mispronunciation of khairat. Chaqu is preferable to chaku. Bakrid is a mispronunciation of  Baqr 'Id (Bakr 'Id is now the most usual pronunciation). Murraghan is an improper derivative of roghan (fat, butter).  Shaabaash is now common, but shaabaashi is more usual than shaabashi. Lachar is another improper but common compound of an Arabic prefix and a Persian word.

/11/ All these expressions come from begamati zuban, the women's dialect of Urdu, and are used only by women, or in this case, by a man (Hali) writing in a woman's voice for a largely female readership. The idioms of begamati zuban have to do with the world of the household, the women's world, and tend to be earthy and colloquial. There are few Persian and Arabic loan words in it, but rather expressions from khari boli, the local vernacular. Hence the educated (both men and women) regard begamati zuban as low-status. From the examples given, one sees that begamati zuban is especially rich in interjections, in terms of endearment or abuse, and in forebodings of disaster. See the above description of superstitions in the third majlis for the consciousness of bad luck, the evil eye, and inauspiciousness in secluded women's lives. For a further discussion of  begamati zuban, see Gail Minault, "Begamati Zuban: Women's Language and Culture in Nineteenth-Century Delhi," India International Centre Quarterly XI, 2 (June 1984), pp. 155-170; and Muhiyuddin Hasan, Dilli ki Begamati Zuban (New Delhi: Nai Avaz, 1976).

/12/ Calendars: The Hijri calendar is theMuslim lunar calendar, beginning from the hegira in 622 AD; the Fasli calendar is the Persian solar calendar, approximately 590 years behind the AD date; and the Vikram calendar is the Hindu dating system, also solar.

/13/ Sura: a chapter in the Quran.

/14/  Learning Urdu style from the newspaper implies that Sayyid Abbas was learning a simplified, straightforward style, rather than flowery, Persianized Urdu. This fitted in with the down-to-earth nature of  the education his mother was giving him, and with Hali's own stylistic predilections.

/15/ izafat: In Persian (and Urdu) grammar, the connection of a noun with its modifier or possessor by the use of -e; or, as in this case, the -e sound itself, which is often not indicated in the text, and hence easily dropped by neophytes. (Example: ism-e sharif.)

/16/ Ethical and didactic works, the first two by Sa'di.

/17/ fiqh: Muslim jurisprudence.

/18/ Dadi Jan and Phuphi Amman: his paternal grandmother and paternal aunt.

/19/ Ramzan: the month of fasting in the Muslim calendar.

/20/ Apa: elder sister, in this case his elder first cousin.

/21/ Bari Bi: the Arab woman servant.

/22/ madrasa: a secondary, or higher, school for theological instruction.

/23/ After about the age of eight, little girls have to start staying indoors, or in the courtyard, most of the time, and become used to pardah restrictions.

 

 

 

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