Today, Wednesday the 21st May 1997, is the 27th anniversary of the death of Baba-i-Sindh Hyder
Bakhsh Jatoi who was born on October 7, 1901 in Bakhodero village near
Moen-jo-Daro in Larkana district. Deprived in infancy of motherly care
and love, he was brought up by his father and aunts. Being a handsome
child he was liked by all, particularly by the womenfolk of the family.
His intelligence and aptitude in childhood as a preconscious and bright kid impressed many friends of his father, Faqir Allahabad Khan Jatoi. They advised him to give him formal education. His father accordingly got him admitted to the village school in Pathan, a few miles away, at the age of 11. There was no school at Bakhodero then. To reach his school, the boy travelled on horseback. At school he was quiet studious and spent a lot of time over his lessons, even on holidays and during vacations. He seldom parted from his books during his waking hours.
One day, the then Collector of Larkana paid a visit to the school on one of his causal inspections and was so impressed with the young Hyder that he wished to meet his father. When called, Faqir Sahib was earnestly advised to get his son higher education since the boy was such an outstanding student.
Soon after, on completing his primary school, the young lad joined the Sindh Madarsah School at Larkana, where he showed his brilliance by topping the list of successful examinees every year. He topped the Sindh vernacular final examination in 1918 among candidates from all over Sindh and then won his first position in Sindh at the matriculation examination from the Bombay University in 1923.
He studied at the D.J. College, Karachi, and remained a resident boarder in Metharma Hostel attached to the college. He graduated in 1927 with honours in literature and won distinction in Persian from the Bombay University.
During his college days, he showed his poetic genius in Sindhi. His poem "College Kabootar" (College Pigeon) became quite popular. He was brilliant in calligraphy and was an outstanding literary figure in the college. He served as editor of the college 'Miscellany' and won the annual "Saraswati" literary award. He was extremely popular with his fellow students and his teachers and throughout his student life at Larkana and Karachi was a scholarship-holder.
He took full advantage of his stay in Karachi by making literary friends, attending cultural gatherings and taking an active part in extra-curricular activities. Once, in a spree of disgust with his surroundings, he left home without informing anyone and roamed about in different parts of India in search of what he knew not peace, love, happiness. Allah, he thought, eluded him and thus he took refuge in Muslim, Hindu, Sikh, Christian, Jewish, Zoroastrian and Buddhists holy places, where he keenly observed religious rituals of all shapes and forms.
It was probably during his wanderings there that he composed a short Sindhi poem which said in part:
"The path to Allah I perceived with difficulty.
Not in mosque, temple or church;
No place for thinking or logic anywhere,
I saw Him truly in my own heart."
With great efforts, he was persuaded to join government service in the Revenue Department as Head Munshi, but rose to become Deputy Collector.
From his early age, he observed with grief the subhuman conditions of the haris (farmers) and the brutalities suffered by the poor tillers of the land. Since he realised that while in service he could not serve the cause of the peasantry, he decided to resign from the cozy and coveted job of Deputy Collector and joined the Sindh Hari Party. He was elected President of the Sindh Hari Committee in 1946 and except for a few brief intervals remained its elected president till his death in 1970.
He was a prolific writer. The formation of the One Unit gave a new impetus to his pen and he wrote against it openly, vehemently and consistently in English and Sindhi. He published many pamphlets against it. He criticised the highest authority in the country, the governor-general, Ghulam Muhammad, in his pamphlets.
Unquestionably, he was an ardent lover of the people and the soil of Sindh and in lieu of that the title of Baba-i-Sindh was conferred on him. He had received other titles as well from the masses of Sindh, but he chose this one above all others. His love for Sindh and total devotion to the Sindhi people will be remembered for ages to come.
I call him him "the Lion of Sindh," because it has been my honour and privelege to have met him and heard his 'roar' which shook the very foundation of the tyrranical and anti-Sindhi Marshall regime of those days.
The year was 1960. The Field Marshall by the name of Ayub Khan and his army cronies and civilian 'spoons,' (the professional sellers of conscience, logic and decency) have just taken over the reins of the so called Islamic Republic of Pakistan, where ironically the great religion of Islam was so ruthlessly and systemetically demeaned and maligned. I was than a young boy of fourteen studying for my Matriculation at one of the prominent and foremost educational institute in Sindh - Cadet College, Petaro. It was June - the hottest time of the year, when the teperatures ran as high as 130 to 140 degrees Fahrenheit. It was the start of a Summer vaccation and our bus from Petaro has just dropped us at the Hyderabad Railway Station, some 50 kilometres from our Cadet College. We were a group of about thirty Petarians, going back to our villages scattered all over Sindh. Myself, my younger brother Khalid and three of my buddies - Bashir Vistro, Arjandas Oad, and Khadim Memon - had to travel by same train to our villages which were so close by to each other.
Our train was not due for another three hours. So, we waited. Suddenly there was a commotion and we saw some people running in one direction - they were all running towards someone standing at the entrance gate of the Station with stack of leaflets in his hands. And than I saw him - an elderly greying old man dressed in white short-sleeved shirt and shalwar, which was pulled up and tucked onto the hems at the waist, an ajrak (a Sindhi shawl) on his shoulders and a Sindhi cap on his head. I also rushed forward and eagerly and earnestly pushed my way through the melee of humanity, people who were shouting "Comrade, Comrade, Comrade," towards the saintly looking man standing calmly at the core of this melee, profusely sweating in the afternoon heat. He was passing out leaflets to all around him and giving them few extra ones and pleading them to distribute. The leaflets contained the demands of the people of Sindh for self-determination and exhorted the Marshall Law government to undo the One Unit immediately. I shook his hand and asked him to give me some leaflets for distribution. He stared at me with that sad look on his face and said, "No! You must not indulge in this kind of thing. You must study and become somebody to serve our mother Sindh and her children. You must not waste time in these activities. They will put you in jail, and a generation of Sindhis will be ruined. Me? I am a stubborn old man. They put me in jail and after a while they take me out. Again, I am on the street demanding justice for our people. Again, they arrest me. Here I am once again. They cannot break my spirit! No!! You must study, study and study. Your jeejal Sindh need you."
I was disappointed though I saw the truth in what this old man was saying. Out of the melee, I asked a middle-aged man standing nearby. "Uncle, who is this man? What is he up to?" The bright, cheerful and very fatherly looking man replied, "Son, he is one of the greatest man our mother Sindh has ever given birth to. He is our Comrade Hyder Bakhsh Jatoi, who gave up high Government posts to fight for the rights of Sindhis, especially the farmers and the tillers of holy land of our motherland. He is the founder of Haari Tehrik (Farmers Movement) and has spent most of his life in jails. If not in a prison, he is on the streets agitating against the unjust and tyrranical government of the day. Yes, he is our beloved Comrade!" He than, patted me on my back and said, "Yes, do what he has asked you to do. Study! Tell all your friends to do nothing but study, study and study." I stood there mesmerized and transfixed to the burning ground, aghast and in awe. This man who patted me and told me about the comrade was Ustad Bukhari, who later became one of the most passionate and foremost nationalist poet of Sindh.
So, my dear Sindhis everywhere, let us heed to what these great heroes of Sindh had exhorted us to do - Study, study and study for bringing glory to our motherland, our fatherland.