No human remembers when he was born. Knowing and remembering are two different things. As I am a human, idiot or whatever, I as well don’t remember when I was sent to the world. This much I have been told by many, including my mother that I was born on a night which was unbearable due to heat. The rain was expected but it was not coming. Everybody was in a bad mood, including the ones who were tending to my mother. I must have felt highly uncomfortable coming out of a warm sympathetic fetus and into a terribly warm earth. I must have cried a lot. People surrounding my mother must have cursed me a great deal. However I believe they soon have realized that a bonny child, to boot, a boy has arrived to face the uncertain and unsympathetic world. In any case I must have been given due care and, as people told me later, I was a good boy to look at, rather timid and innocent looking. My mother fed me but soon I was out on a regimented diet of cow’s milk supplemented with some drugs. In the beginning, though I looked bonny, I was a bit frail and often felt quite sick. It must have been due to bad monsoon climate and cow’s milk.
As I said before I have no recollection about myself, about my mother, about people around us, and about the world. The first thing I remember is when I tried to walk on my legs. I remember I fell down often at times, but slowly and sturdily I gained my ground and started walking upright like a brave cowboy. My father was a busy person. Most of the time he was not inside the house, but whenever he came he put me on his lap and told me things which I never understood. He loved Persian poetry and I think he had a habit of talking with children in a manner which was not understood by them. My mother was a kind person. She loved me a great deal. She fed me, bathed me, and clothed me in a nice way. She put oil in my hair and made me look like a Chinese doll. This idea of a Chinese doll never came to my mind. It was actually told to me by my uncle who once in a rather expansive mood told me that his sister used to make me look like a Chinese doll. My mother at that time who was sitting by our side laughed and said: not Chinese doll, actually Japanese doll. Later I came to know, that at that time Japanese dolls were very popular in our land. They were cheap and not very durable, but children loved them because they were printed in different colors. Once a while my father brought me some toy like car, horse and elephant. Other visitors also brought some gift for me. However as far as I remember I did not much like these toys, dolls etc. What I wanted, as far as I remember, was that I wanted a bicycle to use, for I have seen people riding the bike. But I was too small to ride a bike, but as far as I know this idea came to me when I was about 2 or 3 years old. I don’t remember how I came up with the idea. Probably it was due to watching the people riding the bike. One of our servants was very fond of riding and I think he kept telling me that I should get hold of a bicycle for my pleasure. But this idea probably I have invented.
I should speak here of a situation which could have ended in a tragic manner. When I was about one year old the great river which flowed by our house, due to heavy monsoon conditions, turned into a torrent of waves and all sorts of things being carried out by the flowing water. People went by the side of the river to see the roaring flow of water. Slightly away from the beach I was put on a wooden chair, and left there. A small boy was instructed to remain near my chair but I think he soon disappeared. I was left alone. Suddenly a mighty wave came towards my chair and toppled it over. I fell down on the ground and probably turned senseless. Somebody from a distance saw what has happened and he ran to pick me up and save me. He started making loud noises and many people ran towards me who had fallen on his face and was trying to breathe hard. Soon it was discovered that if that man had not seen me falling I would have suffocated to death by drinking river water. So I should say got a second life at the age of one. I am still alive and let us see how long I breathe fresh air.
My recollection of early childhood is rather patchy. It’s like a slow moving frames of events, some distinct, others faint and still others obscure. Some of these frames suddenly appear before my eyes and when I try to comprehend them they appear like a flash of thunder. I remember, if I call this event as remembering, of my first step on my two legs. I was just toddler and moved on my limbs rather awkwardly. One day when I was alone in a room along with a twelve year old servant, who was a rascal, I tried to get up on my two legs. That boy kept telling me in a subdued but harsh voice: get up, on your two legs and walk. He kept saying this and I got infuriated. Still I tried, and tried and as I remember I stood on my two legs and took a step forward. The rascal turned into a kind servant picked me up and started telling me in a sweetened voice: you have done it, you have done it. I don’t remember what happened afterwards, for as I know definitely that since that day I was walking on my two feet regularly, earlier in a shaker manner, and afterwards in a steady gait. I must have been about three or even a bit less. I remember also that when my father saw me walking on my two legs he started laughing and cried: the boy has become a young man. My mother who was sitting near us said in a rather subdued voice: he has to improve a lot; to become a young man needs hard labor. I watching their commotion said in a rather hesitant voice: you should not worry over me, I will soon start running all over the place. My father got up, picked me up and took me in his arms and said: let us go running about the town. All laughed, including that young rascal. The ordeal of walking on my two legs was a great adventure. As I learnt afterwards the humans started walking on their two legs before they had turned into modern man, during their pre-human days. So walking on two legs for any human is a great achievement, though he soon forgets about his first attempt to get up on his two legs and watch the world in a more careful and circumspect manner. The evolution of humans has been largely, but not exclusively, due to its ability to stand on its two legs in an open country, full of grass and trees, and watch the environment around with a careful eye. Of course the development of eye and its observational skill in a perspective manner is probably much more important than walking on two legs. However the evolution of eye started long before apes came into existence. But there is no doubt to say that the human eye started working in a peculiarly human way only after the apes started getting transformed into pre-humans. Hence I can say that my remembering the fact that I was able to remember that the day I got up on my two legs was a revolutionary, intellectual understanding of myself and of the world at large.
The other thing about which I remember, though less assuredly, is the time when I started reading newspapers, magazines and books. I don’t exactly remember when I started reading by myself. At the age of four or so I was sent to a Moulvi to learn three hours. Moulvi sahib was not very proficient in arithmetic but he taught me letters of both Urdu and English quite easily and in a very sympathetic manner. The first day when I started taking lesson there was a Milad and sweetmeats were distributed. I don’t exactly remember what I did on that day, but my father who was sitting in a chair in a rather regal manner, got up and kissed me on my forehead. Moulvi sahib said: remember, your father is a learned man, try to become like him. But before that you have to learn how to read and write. I was keen to get some sweetmeat but I was being congratulated by so many people that people forgot to give me something to eat. I remember afterwards when I was with my mother I complained that I was not given anything to eat. Rest of the proceedings I don’t remember. The only thing I remember is that I felt very tired and rundown. Moulvi sahib put a pen in my hand and with help I wrote something on a piece of paper I don’t remember what I wrote, but it s was the first step towards my writing exercise.
Astonishingly I learned the art of reading much more quickly and easily within a few months. I think by the age of four I was reading everything written in Urdu. I picked up voluminous books from my father’s bookshelf and tried to read them. I don’t know how I mastered the art of reading but I distinctly remember that I started enjoying reading. The proficiency in English reading came to me almost a year later. My father used to read lots of medical books, and medical journals. I still remember that I used to pick up these books and journals. I could not follow a single sentence but I kept trying. I during my two years when I was reading my father’s books, the medical jargons captured my brain; I have tried all my life to forget those technical terms. Still some of them persist in my subconscious and sometimes creep out in most amazing and awkward manner,. I must say before reading some literary books in English I was reading literary books in Urdu much more easily, quickly and with great delight. I read short stories which were at that time incomprehensible to me, they talked of love between boys and girls, and I at that time could not understand what it meant. Love is strange word, my parents loved me, I think my Moulvi sahib loved me, many of our servants loved me, my sisters loved me, my younger brother at that time did not love me much, but still he had some sort of affection towards me. However that love which the short stories told, and which was some sort of infatuation and sexual attraction was a thing of different world. When I started reading English novels then this word and the attraction between males and females became prominent and started hovering around my brain. At that time when I was around 10 I was mostly reading Victorian novels, which was not depicting love in a starkly sexual manner. The sex was depicted in a rather Victorian manner. Hence I have always felt that talking about explicit sex infection was quite interesting, but probably it is not a highly literary type of skill. I should say in this case I am a little not old fashioned but characterized by my youthful readings. In Urdu fiction love has been a rather symbolic thing. I am talking of my early days of reading. Girls were not very, so to say, forward looking. And boys were hesitant in their expression of love. They tried to express their emotional upsurge in a diffident manner, trying to show in a symbolic language what they meant. Probably their heart was aflame with love and the same probably was true for girls, but in fiction they were highly careful in expressing their emotions and feelings.
I was not the only male kid of my parents. Our family gradually increased. I was born after two of my sisters. Hence , in a manner, I should have been the darling of my family ,being the first male offspring. I later , however, felt that this entitlement was not quite beneficial for the first male child. He was expected to behave in a manner which could be called gentlemanly. Moreover I was supposed to do good in my studies, behaviour and in my affections towards our large parental families. I soon realized that a chosen person-like a chosen people-fails to come up to expectations. If after spending my life dally – dallying I think I have been if not an abject failure, a common citizen of the world. I always try to tell the elder males of the family to be on their guard; not to lose their composure and not to boast about the achievements or whatever.
After me, arrived in my family my second brother. He was sickly at first but soon developed into a brash young man. I always felt during our childhood that he was if not jealous, slightly upset against. I feel however that perhaps I was not quite correct in my judgment. He has remained a loveable person and developed a knack of entertaining people in a well behaved manner. Arrogance is a part of our family and like all of us, my brother inherited this trait. Arrogance, I should say, is not an obnoxious property provided a person keeps his arrogance in due control without exposing himself to bitterness and reciprocal counter offensive. I should further say that in my rather longish life I have not been free of this trait. However, being an intelligent idiot I have tried to keep the horses in check.
After our second brother a sister took the stage. From the very beginning she was a bit brash, a bit selfish and a bit talkative. She wanted to dominate wherever she had the opportunity to step in. For a girl such behaviour is in my opinion quite helpful. It can lead you rather comfortably through your life if you are sensible enough. What I’m trying to say is that brashness supplemented with arrogance and fearlessness if combined with certain civilizational values can be a great motivating factor in negotiating the wild pastures of life.
In our family third son arrived with less commotion and disturbance. He was a quiet guy largely involved with himself probably trying to understand the irreducibly the cruel fact that why he arrived as number three. He turned out to be a beloved of all his sisters, both of his brothers a bit diffidence towards him. Probably he in his childhood came to know the famous Persian proverb which says that; be a dog but not a younger brother.
We in our family lived in a rather cozy interrelationship with each other. Father was always quite busy and mother used to keep herself engaged in household work. She often tried to tell us that we should be nice in our dealing with ourselves and with other persons. She was strict enough to tell us that we should behave with our servants in a decent manner. We tried to follow her instructions as far as possible but use being the new generation tried to find out our ways to deal with the world. It is fair to say that we behaved in some kind of normal way trying to keep our instinct and aspirations in check. Growing up is a difficult job: first, you are being bombarded with all sorts of advises and instructions from your elders; children of your age have their own set of advisors to cope with; you being a inquisitive mind try to find your way out of the woods. You often, so to say, go into the woods and select your own tree. Such situations create problem and often growing up leads to all sorts of difficulties. I think that we all the young members of the family tried to build our own world in our own way. Building a neat universe is not an easy job; you often come in conflict with the other competing universe. You try to make friend with the universe or the master of the universe, but it so happens that the master fails to reciprocate to your wishes. In our group, our elder sister, was the superior to all us equals. This often was a source of irritation, conflict and even fights. She was conscious of the fact that she being the eldest should try to keep us in check and let us not go outside of our arena. Still I feel she often looked a sort of a dictator, who wanted us to follow the rule elucidated by her. Trouble is to follow a path to enter a strait gate is quite bothersome. You like a filly try to run away. And nevertheless we to some extent observed her rules. Still we had our own universe to tend to. I remember, during our childhood we used to talk to ourselves without bothering to communicate with each other, hence I am almost sure that our family developed a tradition in which when we used to assemble for dinner or some function we used to keep mum and very difficult to communicate with. This has persisted throughout our lives. We each have affection for all the sibling but still we have our own self to cultivate. During our early days as children it so happened that all of us became interested in printed matters, perhaps except for my second elder sister. Her world was a bit too complicated to enter and a bit too complicated to change. Her interest in books etc. were rather ordinary. Later on she became highly interested in reading books and magazines. I would not say the same thing for my second brother for his world of complicated things kept him all the time busy to tend to. He was a rather outgoing fella who tried to communicate a little more than others and wanted to grab good things which were available around. Our father often scolded him when he broke something due to his carefree ways. Initially he was not a good student but gradually developed into a good one. His success in life is exemplary. He has been a hard working man, his dealings with others in his job has been fair and reasonable. His cultural orientation grew, though slowly but efficiently. Our third sister was outgoing yet strict in her dealings. During her school days she participated in many functions and in college she was reputed to be a good debater. Our third brother needs a rather detailed description and most likely it would not be possible for me to provide it.
Our third brother from his very childhood was a boy with a keen sense of keeping himself in good shape, both physically and culturally. He was a healthy child who used to enjoy his meal. There is something extraordinary about him during his childhood as it seemed to me. He was strict in his behavior with others. Tried not to fight with other children and as I have said earlier he was the most controlled kid to develop his universe. I often found him mumbling to himself and getting a bit nervous when anybody came near him. I have often heard that some children have a knack to converse with absent minds – this was a theory propagated by one of our servants – and I initially believed that really he was in communication. He proved to be a brilliant student at the school and at the higher level of studies. None of my parents were worried over him about his studies. As a matter of fact all of us children were a little above than normal children of our time. We had a wide interest and because of the availability of books and magazines we were on the whole very well aware of what was happening around us. At the time when I was 6-7 years Indian Muslims were going berserk about getting their own homeland, i.e. to say Pakistan. Everybody knew that if Pakistan came into existence, our birthplace would not be its part, but still like a fanatic we believed in it. I remember that during my school days, the senior Muslim students used to take out a procession during the recess and kept shouting about getting it one way or the other. I now believe that this was pure madness, if not a suicidal attempt. Our third brother at that time was not very conscious of the problem but it seems to me that he also realized that this dream of Pakistan was a wrong idea, a fantasy. Just before Pakistan was formed in our province a great conflict between Hindus and Muslims rose in which Muslims were butchered in a merciless manner. At that time it has become certain that Pakistan was to be formed out of two portions of the Indian subcontinent. I believe that this Hindu – Muslim conflict affected my brother in a sub conscious manner.
In a big family there are reasons for conflict to erupt and for reconciliation to occur. When every member of the family has his own plans not only for him/herself but also for all the members, life could be quite demanding. Our two youngest sisters attempted to negotiate the world in a rather fearful a manner in the beginning. Both of them looked meek and mild, yet they had their own resilience. Our father loved his youngest daughter a little more than his eldest one. That’s what seemed to me. It soon transpired that the sisters almost came out of their shells and became much more active as individuals. Family in a traditional Indian system often creates hindrance for ambitious young men specially. Our father used to say that when he broke out of the family tradition and decided to learn English and the modern education he felt that in spite of some hindrance he was allowed to go his own way. Such has been the tradition in our family that as far as I can recall none of us were forced to pursue a determined path; though hints were given.
When I started on my journey to become a conscious individual with his own feelings desires and ambitions I soon realized that if there was any hindrance it was out of my own self. I wanted to do something ambitious and I felt that I was not fit to pursue that ambition. Very few people in their early days realize that often He or she is less capable to work out ones ways. It is important to realize, as I realized myself that capabilities come to persons of course by their own hard labor but also by their inherited qualities. A house that does not care for intellectual pursuits, or for that matter any other pursuit, would not be able to satisfy their mission of a person with a particular desire to follow a path. Generally human social setup is such that revolutionary advances are not made regularly. The society takes its steps slowly and steadily and a jump is not taken very readily. I was not in a position, I think, to take a revolutionary step for I realized very early in life that to be a good student and pursue education in a steady manner would be more suitable for my temperament; though I must say that in my heart of heart I wanted to become an Einstein or Bradman. This realization which simmered in me for long has turned me into an intelligent idiot, who knows what is good for him, but who dares not to follow it. We had a Moulvi who taught us many things in vernacular but who used to tell us that first thing for a child is to learn the basics of every art. Of writing of reading of playing and of relaxing. Perhaps his advice hindered our ambitions, but as far as I can see, we were not very much retarded in our plans, ambitious or not. As I see most of us siblings have progressed in the world quite satisfactorily. None of us became an Einstein or a Bradman, but we on the whole came to know how Einstein and Bradman became great personalities.
