Family

OUR FAMILY

Afroze

Our daughter Afroze was born in May 1955, when we had been married two years. Our son Yawar was born in 1959. We were a small but happy family. The children adjusted well to the several moves we made during my army service, which would mean a change in their schools and their friends. We all looked forward to a more settled life in Karachi, when we moved there after my retirement in 1972.

My arrest in that same year, when we were just settling down, upset all these plans. Shortly thereafter, Jamila left Yawar with her brother, Sajjad, to continue his schooling in Karachi, and moved to Lahore with Afroze. I have written about this period, and our later moves to Canada, in my memoir.

In Canada, Afroze took on a secretarial job after doing a short course in that field. She saved enough money to travel to Europe for a trip in which she visited several countries (with her cousin Tazeen). When she came back (in 1984), she did a multi-year course in Early Childhood Education at Ryerson University. Upon graduation, she worked in this field for a number of years, including after she married James (Williams) in 1988. Their two children, Wesley and Shawn (now Cassandra), were born in 1994 and 1995 respectively. The marriage ended with a formal divorce in 2008.

Afroze obtained a B Ed degree from York University in 2004, and continued working as a teacher until she fell ill in 2015. In spite of the heroic measures she took to defeat the deadly disease that she had fallen victim to, she finally succumbed to it in April 2016. During her last couple of months she was admitted into the hospital, where I used to visit her every day.

She finally departed this world on April 10, 2016. There is a separate section devoted to pictures of her, and some additional material.

Yawar

Our son Yawar was born in August 1959. He was a quiet but affectionate boy, fond of books. He was 2 years old when we went to Canada in 1961. I believe he enjoyed his stay there.

These days, when we are at the final stage of our lives, I often think about that time. I remember the little boy who accompanied us on our journey; we went through New York, and spent the night in a hotel. Next morning we all arrived at the International Terminal in the huge NY airport (later named after President Kennedy), and waited in an empty lounge for our flight to be called. We kept waiting while various people walked through the lounge, and out towards where the planes were.

A funny old lady wandered in and out of the lounge, and seemed to fixate on Yawar. She called him over, and, like the good child he was, he went over to where she was sitting. We were not at all happy with this, but didn't know what we should do. Then, one of the locals who was walking through the lounge to the plane, saw our discomfort, confirmed it with us, and told the woman to stop bothering us. She quickly got up and disappeared, and a relieved Yawar quickly rejoined his sister, Afroze. Soon after, one of the people walking through the lounge asked us if we were waiting for a flight; when we told him we were indeed waiting for the flight to Montreal, Canada, to be called, he said these flights were 'walk on' flights. We quickly gathered our things and walked through the passage to a plane waiting at the other end.

This resulted in us arriving late at Montreal, where we found that the Embassy staffer had left our rail tickets at some counter, and gone. Anyway, we enquired about the time at which the next train departed for Kingston, and discovered that there wasn't much time for us to catch it. We rushed through the terminal, caught a cab, and told the driver to hurry. When we rushed to the platform with just a few minutes to spare, we found it quiet and deserted; naturally, I thought we had missed the train, and asked somebody when the next train was to go; he replied, pretty soon, and pointed to the clock on the platform. I was quite surprised to see that the time being shown there was an hour earlier than my watch showed. I then discovered that the train (which went across the whole of Canada to Vancouver) ran according to the Railway Time, which was different from Montreal local time.

Anyway, we finally boarded a nice 'parlour car' which had a line of rotating seats down the middle, from where one could survey the countryside rushing past the windows. After a nice journey, we finally arrived in Kingston, and took a cab to the luxurious Princess hotel in the downtown. Next morning, both chidren watched the morning shows on TV (our first exposure to the medium), while we took the elevator down to the restuarant to have breakfast (and bring some things back for the children). They had attendents to operate them; usually youngish persons, including this one, who apparently fell for Jamila, and would blush awkwardly whenever she boarded 'his' elevator.

Our rented house in Kingston was very nice. Afroze used to go to the school nearby, but Yawar was too young, and mostly played by himself outside (he discovered the hatch in the kitchen (meant for the milkman to leave our milk bottles every day) and used it to crawl into the kitchen, while Jamila cooked there or was otherwise busy around the house). He was a great favourite of all the young girls who lived on the street, and they liked to pamper him whenever they could.

When we returned to Pakistan he was two years older (we celebrated his fourth birthday in Rome on the way back) and Jamila's eldest brother Mumtaz liked to take him in his car, which he would park outside his favourite shops, and send the little toddler in to get something for him; it amused him a great deal to see how different he was to most 4-year old Pakistani boys, and had no hesitation at all in speaking to the store salesman (in English, the only language he could speak, though he understood Urdu quite well).

Many years later, because his schooling in Pakistan was being upset by my arrest and imprisonment, Jamila’s brother, Khurshid, who had emigrated to Canada, offered to have Yawar stay with him and his wife, Heather, to continue his studies there. Thus, Yawar was the first of our family to move permanently to Canada.

After finishing high school, he joined the University of Toronto and did his Masters degree in Computer Science. Even before he had finished university, he was offered a job in Ottawa with Bell Canada (in 1985). The same year, he and Tazeen (daughter of Iftikhar and Gohar) were married.

After several years in Ottawa, Yawar and Tazeen went to Zurich, Switzerland, in 1996, where he began work with UBS. After a few years he switched to Credit Suisse. In 2013 they moved back to Toronto, where Yawar started working as a Project Manager for UBS Canada (which was taken over by Mitsubishi of Tokyo) and is now called MUFG Investor Services. Quiet, though very intelligent, he appears to be doing well in his job.

Yawar and Tazeen have proved to be a rock of solid support for both of us as we slowly reduce our active lives due to age. He usually comes to visit us on Wednesday evenings, after one of his thrice-weekly gym sessions, and brings along anything we need and ask for. He and Tazeen usually have supper with us every weekend, if they are not otherwise engaged.

My Father’s Family

My father’s family had humble beginnings in Patiala, a princely state in British India. My grandfather, Nasir Ali, was a small farmer (and local Revenue official, a Patwari) in a village in the state. He must have been forward-looking, as he tried to give his children as good an education as was available under his limited circumstances. However, he died while my father was still very young, and the family became dependent on the two elder sons, who moved to Patiala city and obtained jobs.

My Father

My father, Bakht Yawar Ali (or B.Y. Ali, as he was generally called later on) was the fifth of six sons. (I believe he had a sister, though she died before we became old enough to know the family). After his father’s death he lived, along with some of his siblings, with his two eldest brothers in the city, who had jobs there.

When we were young, we used to pay an annual visit to the family home in Patiala, where the two elder brothers and their families still lived. It was in the old part of the city, on a narrow lane (galli) though not far from the main bazaar. It was an old but large house, with a central courtyard around which were a large number of rooms. Stairs went up to the roof where there were another couple of rooms, and the privies. Attached to the house was a largish stable, in which was tethered a big buffalo (which supplied the family with fresh milk) ─ a strange and wondrous sight for me and my brother on our visits.

My father was very intelligent, and good in his studies. After graduating from the local Patiala college, he obtained, through sheer merit, admission (highly coveted) to the Government College, Lahore, the premier educational institution in the Punjab, to do his Masters. After completing this, he sat for the countrywide competitive examination held by the Government of India for the Indian Police. He was selected and, after the training college, joined the police service in 1924, becoming one of the few Indian officers (especially in the Punjab) in that organization. Most of his service was spent as the police chief in various districts of the Punjab, but included a posting as head of the provincial railway police. In 1955 he retired as Director of Civil Defence for the province. He died in 1960 of a heart attack; he was only about 60 years old, but had been a 'chain smoker' for a long time.

My father was fond of reading and had a small library. It was a treasure house for me, and I devoured the books that interested me. My favourite was a multi-volume set of the Book of Knowledge (an encyclopedia) that he had bought when we were very small, and kept for my brother and me to read later on.

I have written elsewhere (in my Memoir, Prison Journey) about the kind of person my father was, and will not repeat it here. Suffice it to say he was considered a wonderful person and was greatly loved by his family. He was also greatly liked and respected by his friends, subordinates and colleagues.

My Father's Siblings

My father’s eldest brother was Mubarik Ali. Forced to seek a job due to his father’s death, he did not continue his education but, instead, joined the state’s Accounts department, finally retiring as an Assistant Accountant-General. He had a small figure, very prim and proper, and was for us a rather distant figure. The next brother, Sadiq Ali, became a teacher, and finally retired as Headmaster of a school. He had a reddish (henna-dyed) beard, took a lot of interest in us and used to shower us with a lot of affection. Salamat Ali joined the state police, and rose to be an Assistant Superintendent of Police. He was a big man with a reddish, curling moustache, a jolly person whom I liked a lot (later on, I was reminded of him when I came across Porthos in my readings). Inayat Ali joined the Railways as a clerk, but we never did get to see much of him or his family.

My father’s youngest brother, Shujaat Ali, was also given a reasonable education and became a doctor. After many years as a professor in a medical school in Amritsar, he came to Pakistan in 1947 upon its founding, and was tasked to set up the Fatima Jinnah Medical College for Women in Lahore, the first women’s medical college in Pakistan. He became its first Principal, and remained as such (and Medical Superintendent of the adjacent Ganga Ram Hospital) for many years until his retirement. He became a well-known personality in the Punjab, and beyond.

Dr Shujaat Ali was very fond of hunting ('shikaar'), and used to regularly visit us with a party of hunting friends wherever my father was posted. I remember us kids listening with wonder to the stories of their adventures and exploits, including the one when they ran out of petrol in some remote area, and got some kerosine oil from a village for their car (it worked!). We young ones held him in some awe, confirmed by a few occasions when my brother had a crying fit and our mother asked him for help; he would put a blood pressure cuff on my brother’s arm and start pumping. It always proved very effective!

My Siblings and Cousins

My younger brother, Kaiser, was a late bloomer. Perhaps as a child he was burdened by my shadow (as often happens when two siblings are close in age). He seemed to open up when he followed me after a year to Government College, Lahore (it was still the premier educational institution in the province). In 1948 he joined the Pakistan Navy, and excelled in his initial training course. After it, he was sent on a long naval course to the UK, and became a Sub-Lieutenant there. In 1952 he was tragically killed in an accident while driving to London in his red MG Roadster.

My youngest brother, Daniyal (or Dani, as everyone calls him), was a late arrival ─ he is 18 years younger to me! The initial surprise, and a certain awkwardness, soon gave way to the wonder and joy of having a baby to pamper and play with. Dani, too, was a late bloomer, but ultimately became a highly successful business executive in the textile industry. He married Salomi, youngest daughter of Mian Muhammad Afzal and Rashda (daughter of my mother’s oldest sister). They have three sons, Mehryar, Shehryar, and Asfandyar.

We had many cousins, but the ones we were closest to, growing up, were the children of Dr Shujaat Ali. The two elder daughters were older than us, and we were just young kids to them. They both became doctors: Dr Basharat Yusuf became a professor in Fatima Jinnah Medical College, while Dr Saadat Iqbal was the head radiologist in a large hospital in Lahore. Their two younger brothers, Zulfiqar and Iftikhar, were about our ages, and were like brothers for us; we were very close in our student years. Poor Iffi died tragically in a road crash while still in his late teens. Zulfiqar became a senior official in the Forests Department.

My Mother’s Family

My mother’s ancestors were more exotic folk. Her father (my maternal grandfather) was M. Safdar Jang Khan. He called himself a Lodi, as he belonged to this Pashtun tribe that came to India from Afghanistan and established a kingdom with Delhi as its capital; their Sultans ruled from 1451 to 1526 (when the last Sultan was defeated by Babur, who then founded the Mughal empire in India).

Safdar Jang joined the police, and among other positions, was the Kotwal (or police chief) of Amritsar city, and also served as head of the police in the small princely state of Khairpur (in Sind). He retired in 1905 or thereabouts as a Deputy Superintendent of Police (which was probably the highest rank that Indians could achieve in those days). He was very well read and was fond of books, having a large library. He also wrote, and his short stories were published in magazines. He died in 1925.

My maternal grandmother, Murtaza Begum (whom we all called Nanni Jee), came, as a young girl, with her family from Turkmenistan to live in a fort in the foothills of the Himalayas (in the district of Kangra), which was the residence of a relation who was the chieftain of the area (his Mughal ancestor having been appointed to this hereditary position by the Mughal emperors). She went to school with my grandfather’s two eldest daughters from his deceased wife. When these two girls got married themselves, they prevailed upon their father to marry my grandmother.

Nanni Jee was a remarkable person. By the time we came to know her, she was already quite old. But she was very active, full of life, always coming up with fun things for us children to do (in which she would fully participate!). I still remember one of her stays with our family, when she would rouse us kids up early every morning and take us out for a long walk. She died in Karachi at an advanced age.

My maternal grandparents had many children, five girls and four boys, of whom two died young. My mother, Hameeda Afroze, was their fourth child. She did not have much formal schooling, but she taught herself English and was fond of reading Victorian novels, especially Thomas Hardy’s tear-jerkers. She died in Lahore in 1990 at the age of 80.

Jamila’s Family

Jamila’s mother, Zeenat-un-Nisa Begum, was an older sister of my mother. Thus, on the maternal side, they share the same ancestors and history. She inherited her father’s urge to write, and also had many of her stories published in magazines.

Jamila’s father, Shaikh Abdul Ali, came from a small town in the Punjab called Bhera. Situated, at one time, by a ford on the River Jhelum (the river has now moved away), it figures in the history of the subcontinent as the place where many foreign invaders, starting with Alexander, on their way from Afghanistan to the plains of the Punjab, crossed the river or fought battles in its vicinity. Perhaps these contacts led many inhabitants of the town to become traders and merchants, often travelling as far as Central Asia.

Shaikh Abdul Ali joined the Punjab civil service, and served in many places in the province as an administrator. After retirement he settled in Karachi, where the family lived for many years; some still do, though many have moved to Canada (the eldest son, Mumtaz (who married Shehnaz), a middle son, Khurshid, who married Heather Atkinson from England, and the two youngest sons, Iftikhar (married Gohar; they are the parents of Tazeen, our daughter-in-law, and Omar), and Anis (who married Mehtab; their children are Mehnaz, who married Eric, a Canadian from Newfoundland, and Osman). Remaining behind in Pakistan were Jamila’s brother, Sajjad, her late sister, Kaukab (who married Anwar; their children are the twins Shehla and Seema, and Afza), and brother, Ijaz, and their families.

Some time after Pakistan came into being Jamila’s father was pulled out of retirement to become secretary to the Governor of Sind province, which position he held for several years. I got to know him during his retirement; he had a prodigious memory and was fond of recounting stories of his past in a very interesting manner. He died in 1961 in his seventies.

The Family in Canada

The first members of the family to emigrate to Canada, in the mid-1970s, were Jamila's brother, Khurshid (known generally as Kay) and his wife Heather (an Englishwoman, whom he had married while on an aviation course in the UK earlier) -- which may well have been because of the accounts we gave them about the country where we had spent two most enjoyable years in 1961-63. After an initial period of struggle (during which they both worked), his excellent performance selling insurance for the (Independent Order of) Foresters, resulted in his becoming a manager of their sales office in Willowdale, Toronto. When Kay's elder brother, Mumtaz, found himself at a loose end in Pakistan, Kay got him to come to Canada, and he started working in Kay's office.

After my trial in Attock Fort, and during my subsequent imprisonment, Kay and Heather, along with Mumtaz, visited Pakistan, and persuaded Jamila to send the children with them to Canada. Consequently, Yawar began living with Kay and Heather, and attending High School, while Afroze lived for a few months with the Mumtaz's, before moving into a rented apartment (closer to her workplace).

After the trial ended, Iftikhar was freed but had no employment; Kay suggested he also come to Canada, and he and his family moved there. Iftikhar initially worked in Kay's office, selling insurance, while Gohar started a baby-sitting 'business'. A little later, one of Gohar's brothers in Pakistan persuaded Iftikhar to come and manage the running of their import business (for which they had obtained a contract) in the new port North of Karachi, Port Qasim . After a few years in Pakistan, Iftikhar and his family returned to Canada. Later on, one of the remaining brothers in Pakistan, Anis, also emigrated to Canada with his family, which left only one brother, Sajjad, and one sister (Kaukab), and their families, in Pakistan. One of Sajjad's sons, Irfan, also migrated to Canada with his family, though, after some 15 years, they returned to Pakistan.

When I was released from prison in 1979, I also moved to Canada after a few months (in September). Thus, after several years of trial and tribulation, we were together again. And, happy to be together (see the picture labelled "1980" below), in the best country in the world!

We have had a good life in Canada. It is now 2019 as I write this, and most of the elders of the family have passed away. In fact, with Anis's wife, Mehtab's death a few months ago, Jamila and I are the only 'oldies' left; Gohar, Iftikhar's wife, is also alive, but she is much younger than us.

Our children have now taken over from us, but they have no children of their own, so in due course the family name will die out here. Of course, we will leave behind Afroze's children, Wesley and Cassandra, and Omar's daughter, Serina, to keep some memory of us alive. Unfortunately, I can't see a good future for them. With the dire predictions of global warming one hears (probably true), they may well find that most of their activity is devoted to efforts, along with those of other Canadians, to beat back the desperate hordes struggling to find succour and refuge in one of the few places left on this burning planet that will still (for a while at least) support human life.

Thus may well end the saga I have described above, as well as the saga of this brief, perhaps accidental, flash of intelligent life on this dark, whirling orb that circles the burning sun!

Family Pictures

Taken at Patiala (in the mid-1930s, on the occasion of Ayesha's, Uncle Mubarik Ali's daughter, wedding). Shows the younger generation of the Ali family (the children of the surviving brothers of the family; except for Inayat Ali's children). It was the custom for each brother and his family to visit the ancestral home in Patiala once a year, preferably at the same time, where the two elder brothers, Mubarik Ali and Sadiq Ali, and their families, still lived.

I am in the lower row, almost in the middle. Kaiser is second from left. Zulli and Iffi are on the other side of the girl, our cousin Jamila (d/o Salamat Ali) in the middle.

This is a picture taken at our wedding in 1953. It contains many of the people I have written about above.

Seated, L to R: Shahnaz (Mumtaz's wife), Kaukab, Surraiya.

Standing, L to R: Mumtaz , Dani, my Father, Iftikhar, Jamila’s Mother, Khurshid (Heather’s husband), my Mother, Ijaz, Jamila's Father, Sajjad.

Missing: Anis (he couldn’t get leave from the army).