THE BIG HOUSE -- البيت الكبير

Remembering Jan Mohammad Khalil Ashraf (1926-1988)

The following is a tribute by Naiyer Azam for their maternal uncle Jan Mohammad Khalil Ashraf at his 25th death anniversary.

October 20, 1942

My Mamoon Jan was the eldest among his seven brothers and six sisters. Only my mother to whom he fondly called Apan (Aapa Jan to her other siblings) was older than him.
It has been 25 years that he left us for his eternal abode at a comparatively young age of 62.
My mother used to love and care all his brothers and sisters but he was very special to her. They remained very close to each other throughout their lives. He also had very cordial relations with my father, Dr M Ikram.

Mamoon Jan was born in Patna, Bihar, India. He came over to Pakistan just before partition in 1947. He was sent to Karachi early to arrange shelters for the family. On the advice from other relatives he chose Bihar Colony Masan Road where he acquired three plots of land in a row - one each for Nana Jan, Ammi and Khala Jan. Khala Jan & Khalo Jan (Syed Abul Hasan) reached Karachi on 11 Sep 1948, the day Quaid-e-Azam died and in 1951 my parents with three young children (me, Shama and Rizwana) and Chotte Mamoon (Anis ul Haque) arrived in Karachi followed by Aapa & Chacha Abbi (Manzoor Ahmed) in 1952 and Nana Jan along with Nani Jan and their other children – 4 sons and 4 daughters - in 1954: Sayeed Akhtar, A F M Nisar ul Haque, Aziz Ashraf, Khurshid Anwer and Raziqa, Farhat, Rafat and Talat.

Those were the days of struggle and hardships. Due to this Mamoon Jan initially suffered his education and after doing Intermediate Commerce he temporarily had to work with a commercial company, TAK & Co dealing in textile machinery. The company was located at Standard Chartered Building on McLeoad Road (now I I Chundriger Road). Seeing his technical acumen, his boss Mr Ashfaq later sent him to work in a textile mill in Liaquatabad, formerly Piplan tehsil city near Mianwali in Punjab where he learnt the trade in cotton spinning. He joined there as an apprentice. This was the turning point that paved the way for him to begin his career in textile industry and later on establishing himself nationwide as textile technologist of high repute.

Mamoon Jan got married to Nasima Ismail. His wedding on 22 June 1955 was first in the family after they migrated from India and settled down in Karachi. It was a simple but traditional wedding. In those days the wedding ceremonies were not as extravagant as we can see today. As a young boy I remember all the excitement the family had at that time. Soon after the birth of his eldest son, Tariq (a dental surgeon) he left for UK for higher education in textile technology.

During his four year stay there he lived in various towns in Lancashire – Blackburn, Preston and Bolton – hubs of textile industry. After his graduation from the University of Blackburn he came back home in December 1960.

On return from UK he worked with reputable textile mills – with Dawood Cotton Mills in Landhi and Fateh Group in Hyderabad - serving as General Manager and Director and later as a consultant.

In 1975 he went to work in Tanzania. His textile mill, where he served as General Manager, was located at beautiful town of Arusha, near Mount Kilimanjaro. He took his family with him where they stayed until the end of 1979. I was told that their stay in Arusha was most memorable and enjoyable.

He was a warm and loving person with great sense of humour. He filled up a room with his smile and laughter and could keep everyone entertained for hours with his stories and conversations. I still remember those lovely evenings in the 80’s when he with Mamani Jan used to visit my parents.

When he was in UK (1956-60) he used to keep regular contacts with my parents by exchanging letters – to my mother in Urdu and to my father in English. I must say he was so brilliant in both these languages. He was sort of a linguist – besides Urdu and English he was fluent in spoken Punjabi and during stay in Tanzania learnt Swahili as well.

Here I would like to share a moment of respect that I had for my Mamoon Jan. Probably it was the year 1974 or 1975 I was traveling by train from Euston, London to Blackpool, a seaside town in Lancashire and I chose the train route which was to stop at Preston. During that brief stop over at Preston I bought a view card and posted to Mamoon Jan saying that ‘I am at Preston railway station where you at some point of time of your stay used to use the same platform while traveling to Blackburn or Bolton’.

The last time I met him was on the occasion of Sarwar’s wedding in June 1988. I was living in Islamabad at that time. During one of the meeting Shehla and I urged him and also to my Abbi that they should come and visit us there. Time did not allow them and both were unable to visit Islamabad.

Just three months later on 22 August 1988 I received a call from Karachi that he died after a brief illness. He was admitted to Aga Khan Hospital a day earlier.

He was a great man who meant a lot to his entire family. He left behind Mamani Jan, three sons and two daughters – Dr Tariq Ashraf, Arif Ashraf, Aamir Ashraf, Zebunnisan Syed and Mehrunnisan Iftikhar and twelve grand children to mourn.

It saddens me that he is no longer with us but I know he is at peace in the heavens.

I will always miss him!

Hopes and fears for 2013

Hopes and fears for 2012

Keamari - Good ol' days

Note: Following are blips of recollections from cousins, Salmana Ahmed and Adnan Asar, also eldest grandchildren of Dr. and Mrs. Ikram

Salmana:

Adnan, Noaman and Meena we had so many lovely memories. Do you people remember “khatti metthi goli” from Nana abba’s clinic I still remember old water hand pump and nani amman’s “nemat khana”.

Adnan:

oh yes the khatti mithi goli was our favorite and nan abba always let us have a few; not sure exactly what they were 

the hand water pump is something i clearly remember because i used it to pump water on many many occasions. i also remember boiling water over a the stove for friday showers before prayers in winter in Keamari. For some reason, winter was unusually cold in those days too. and talking of stove, one of my fondest memories are sitting down, chukku mukku, with nani amma in the kitchen kneading the dough and flattening the dough to make chapatis. 

And the stove wasn’t anything fancy that we have these days but a simple (gasoline i think) burner that served as the cooking stove. Just thinking back i am just amazed how naani amma kept the kitchen going every single day and had fresh lunch and dinner served daily at 1pm and 9pm. the 1pm lunch and 9pm dinner cycle is so embedded in my biological clock that even today when its 1pm or 9pm, i think back that its meal time somewhere in my past life (i have always been focused on food  and then obviously the day was not over until you take all the dishes out to the tap outside the house, near nana abba’s dispensary office, and wash all  the dishes. 

I remember many evenings sitting with Nani amma and Naila baaji washing dishes … Naila baaji would do it grudgingly (just kidding). i am just amazed at the hard work ethics that Naani amma  had and in spite of all  the work she always had energy to make us all laugh with her zesty personality and attitude in her younger years. what a joy to be around. 

I love her and miss her very much.

Keamari - Recalled by the first son-in-law of the family

While much has been written in the article regarding mordern Keamari, my memories are limited to the period 1968-1972 when i lived at the doctors’ residence of  Bachu Bhai Edulji Dinshaw Dispensary, more commonly then known as BED Dispensary.

This dispensary owned by Karachi Municipal Corporation was managed by Abbi. Although a small dispensary it catered for a large population covering:

• People working for customs
• Army officers residing in the Embarcation Headquarter Compound
• People working for Karachi Port
• Residents of Manora,an island a few kms from Keamari.
• Journalists residing in Mules Mansion
• Business class having shops in Jackson Market.

Most of the serving staff of the dispensary  resided in the same compound. They were very loving and faithful. I remember Ooka, the man who will always be remembered for keeping the entire premises exceptionally clean.

My wedding was organised in the dispensary compound and the lush green garden on the rear. This was a unique reception of the time in which the residents of the area played an important role. I was told that Aziz Charia (also known as Captain Old Gold), contributed by helping the police in managing the traffic.

As Abbi was a doctor loved and respected by everyone, we enjoyed all the justified benefits from the custom officers, police officers, journalists, industrialists, barber, milkmen, meat sellers etc.

The 1971 India/ Pakistan war is yet another memorable event of the time.Keamari being a port with oil reservoirs, millitary and naval establishments, was on the hit list of India. With the declaration of war the Indian planes started bombing the area .Adnan was just  two years old . One early morning the Indian planes invaded the ares under heavy shelling.Qaiser and Adnan who were out in the compound tookm shelter under the doctors desk in the duispensary.We only knew when the planes returned and the shelling stopped.

It is sad that the BED dispensary no longer exists New roads have emerged in place. The only landmark is the railway crossing which was immediately after the dispensary gate.

The Jackson Market was just opposite the dispensary.

Close by before the dispensary was the Nagin Cinema which we often visited for a change, A new market has been constructed in its place.

Just opposite the gate was a mosque which still exists.

Behind the mosque and before the railway crossing was a road leading to the Junior custom officers quarters. At the corner of the road was a one  small room barber shop.which served the entire family.

Immediately after the railway crossing is yet another road leading to the Senior Customs Preventive Officers bungalows beautifully built in stone.

Further down was the Embarcation Head Quarter, followed by Clock Tower and finally the Keamari Passenger Pier from where motor boats, small passenger ferries and boats still move people around, to Manora or outer anchorage where the merchant ships are anchored.

Yaad e Keamari ab ek khab hai Yarab.

The Keamari residence is no longer there. We are dispersed allover and by the grace of God we are all happy. Let us cherish the memories and pray for a happy future.

My earliest memories from Keamari home

By Adnan Asar

Some of my earliest memories in Keamari are also the earliest memories of my life and they are a few flashes of images from the war of 1971 when I was two years old. Usually one does not remember anything from such an early age but I guess war can be so traumatizing that it leaves behind flashes of blurry images even in a two year old brain. One of them is seeking shelter under the dining table with bare mama as airforce planes flew above us. Another is that of seeing large flames erupting while driving in a car perhaps from the bombing of the oil reserves. I have also heard of how I was playing outside in the compound when the war erupted, planes started flying overhead and bare mama rushed out to grab me and take me inside.

Another one of my earliest memories is with nana jaan in their Bihar colony home where he is carrying me around and showing me things, I don’t recall exactly what. But I remember him smiling with joy as any great grand father would feel playing with their great grand child. I feel very privileged to have the blessing of experiencing his love and presence in my life albeit short. People tell me that he lovingly called me Adnan Menderes, after a Turkish leader.