The Tradition Lives On...

Politically too, Sindh was far removed from large parts of the Indian subcontinent. Long before Islamic rule came about in most regions in India, Sindh came under the rule of Muhammad Bin Qasim in 712 CE and continued uninterrupted till the British takeover in the late 19th century. Sindh had barely drawn colonial attention till about the mid-19th century.

It was only in 1843 that Sindh was annexed by the British from the Talpur Mirs and made part of the Bombay presidency. “Sindh was one of the last provinces to be annexed and it seemed that once the Bombay government’s interests were served, it cared little for Sindh’s development.”

British colonial annexation of the territory shattered Sindh’s cultural and political isolation from the rest of India and also broke down the religious fluidity that was an intrinsic part of its landscape. Thereafter, socio-political developments occurring in the rest of the country were bound to affect Sindh. Eventually, the merger with the Bombay presidency proved to be psychologically reassuring for the Hindus who were then no more a religious minority in an isolated province. It also gave them the confidence to use their capitalistic power.

On the eve of the partition though, unlike its neighbouring regions, Sindh remained relatively quiet. The territory went entirely to Pakistan but it was assumed that Hindus would not leave, given that they had lived in peace as a minority for centuries. For that matter, even till August 15, 1947, no giant exodus of Hindus took place.

However, a sort of ‘nervous peace’ had managed to prevail. The absence of communal violence did not mean that Hindu-Muslim relations were completely amicable in Sindh. With reports of riots and massacres from other parts of India flowing in daily, Sindhi Hindus were deeply fearful of similar violence from Sindhi Muslims.

Again, the real mass exodus started after the Karachi riots of 6 January 1948, when Muslim refugees from Eastern Punjab started a looting spree of Hindu property in the capital of Sindh. This produced a wave of panic, which spread to all urban centres of the province.

Perhaps it is safe to say that Sindhis got the rawest deal in the partition. With no corresponding space to call their own on the Indian side of the border, they settled down wherever they could and managed to prosper and contribute as well. “I find the period after partition much more significant in the shaping of Sindhi identity in India”.

This easy assimilation of the community cost them their language and culture. No one at home ever spoke about Sindh. Then there was the sense of embarrassment stemming from stereotypes created by Hindi cinema of Sindhis being cunning characters, she recalls. So isolated were the post-partition Sindhis from their culture, that well up till 1967, their language was not even accepted as an official language in India.

For those who had nothing to do with partition, Karachi is just another city. For those whose patriotism begins and ends with the geographical boundaries of the state they were born in – and there are many – Karachi is the name of an enemy city, just like Lahore. But ask a Sindhi what Karachi means to her or him.

In Mumbai, within seven years of partition, at least three prominent colleges were started by Sindhis, which were open to all. But even as they became part of what was then Bombay’s bhelpuri, Sindhis never forgot their homeland. Indeed, it would have been unnatural for them to do so. In fact, many of them had left Sindh only a year after partition, when Muslims from UP landed in Karachi, bringing tales of horror. Even then, some Sindhis thought it would be a temporary exile.

Many of them couldn’t reconcile to the bitter realization that they had left Sindh forever. They pined for the streets of Hyderabad, Karachi, Sukkur and Larkana.

They longed to go back at least once; the temporary Pakistani visa-issuing office that used to be in Mumbai in the 80s, would be teeming with old Sindhi women, still wearing their distinctive long loose kurtas, looser pyjamas and white chunis, weeping in front of the impassive visa officer, begging him for their last chance to visit the families left behind. Sindhi writers grabbed every opportunity to meet their counterparts from Sindh visiting India, to listen to news about their lost homeland. What they heard only made them more protective about what they had lost.

At least two generations of Sindhis have grown up listening to stories about the leisurely lifestyle of Sindh, the tongas and the songs sung by street vendors, the streets named after families and the school holiday when it rained. Even the food eaten in Sindhi homes followed the extreme climate of Sindh, rather than the moderate and wet Mumbai weather.

So it was just natural for the Sindhis to give such names to their shops as Karachi Sweets. Some of the sweetmeat stores in Karachi had always been named so. Karachi Sweets in India, was as much a brand as Polson Butter, Waman Hari Pethe and Finlays; older than Chitale Bandhu or Kayani Bakery. It would have been suicidal for the proprietors to have changed the name just because they had changed cities.

Others incorporated the name Karachi Sweets in the shop’s name to remind their customers that they were the same mithai walas, or to send the message across that these were Sindhi sweets. Thus you could have Shree Mohan’s Karachi Sweet Mart, or Shree Karachi Mithai House.

The Bombay Bakery in Hyderabad, Sindh has been treating taste buds of customers long before the creation of Pakistan and its history can be found on the inside flap of cake boxes. The name was said to be inspired by the glittering metropolis of Bombay and everything it represented at the time.

Owned by the Thadani family, Bombay Bakery was built in 1911 by Mr. Pahlajrai Gangaram Thadani, as a modest bakery in the Saddar area of Hyderabad.

The present structure was arranged and planned by Mr. Thadani himself, and he chose the slogan, “Bakery in a Bungalow”. He moved into the premises with his three children, Shamdas, Kishinchand and Gopichand. When the elder Thadani died in 1948, his children kept running the cake shop. By then, the bakery had gained a reputation for using hygienic and good quality ingredients in their products. Kishinchand Thadani expanded the business and recorded many of the recipes of the different cakes made there.

After Kishinchand’s death in 1960, his son Kumar continued Kishinchand’s work. Kumar Thadani is remembered not only as a capable owner, but also a philanthropist in the local community. When he passed away in June 2010, many came to grieve. Currently, the Bombay Bakery belongs to his adopted son Salman Shaikh, who converted to Islam and is the fourth generation of the Thadani family to own the bakery.

What’s interesting about Bombay Bakery is that it denies all your expectations of a bakery. Bakeries are always considered to be fancy, with shelves of cakes neatly presented, urging customers to buy a cake. But Bombay Bakery’s unmatchable reputation is evident in the famously long queues, which stretch from the counter inside the cake shop, to the main cantonment street.

Every time the line gradually moves forward, people can see a person coming back from the shop with a cake in his hands and a smile on his face.

No one can resist their cakes, but there is a strict rule that prohibits customers from taking more than two cakes. Even regular, generations-old customers are not allowed to break this rule. It is not uncommon for people to come from faraway places and leave empty handed.

To customers, Bombay Bakery’s timeless cakes are the epitome of perfection and its history is something to be honoured and respected. The bakery celebrated their 100th anniversary in November 2011. While many fake products under the brand name ‘Bombay Bakery’ have appeared in other parts of Pakistan, no one has every protested that the shop not be called Bombay Bakery – after a city that is located in enemy India.