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discovery A collective symphony of
music
discovery A couple of years
ago, while observing satellite pictures of the Indus Delta, I spotted a tiny
reddish speck on one of the islands. Zooming in, I noticed that it looked
like the remains of a square fort-like structure. Its location on a marshy
mangrove island confounded me no end, and megabytes of Googling could not
help me come up with an answer. I consulted my friend Adil
Mulki, basically a banker but with a flair for excellent research on anything
of historical interest. He knew of the island and the remains of a fort on
it, but was equally unsure about its origins, so we decided that on the next
opportunity we should explore the place together. That opportunity came last
February, when I was visiting Karachi. Adil had done some
meticulous planning for the trip, attending to each and every detail,
including coordination with the boatman, and arranging for a load of fruit,
snacks and plenty of bottled water. He had also roped in his friend Sharjeel
Ahmed for a threesome. Our initial destination was
Bhanbore, to which we set off in Adil’s car early at 5 o’clock in the
morning. After a little over an hour, we reached Bhanbore via the National
Highway. The car was parked in a shed near the small jetty, and we promptly
transferred the eatables in the boat that was waiting for us by the banks of
a muddy creek. The diesel engine puttered to a noisy start and continued to
rattle our eardrums till we got back in the evening. No luxury yacht, our
boat reeked of dried fish and diesel fumes, and was dirty as a gutter but we
couldn’t complain. After all, one couldn’t expect much from the crew of
the boat, themselves wretched souls like many others plying the Indus Delta. We were headed to Jhaki
Bandar which is, supposedly, a port of sorts on the island and a mere 20km as
the tern flies from Bhanbore. Meandering around the creeks, however, it is
35km away. The Indus Delta is a placid
network of waterways, thick with silt that has nourished the land traversed
by the river over 3,180kms, starting from its source at Senge Khabab in
western Tibet. In the delta, this silt forms mangroves swamps with a rich
aquatic bird life. Curious-looking darters and cormorants perched on mangrove
branches could be seen drying their outspread wings, absolutely motionless
almost like cardboard cutaways. Except for the boat’s
outboard motor, nothing seems to have changed since ages and the scene around
us could well be harking back to several millennia. It took us three-and-a-half
hours to get to Jhaki Bandar, and it was a while before we reoriented
ourselves. The ruins of the fort stood out as a low red wall from a distance.
A fishing boat was docked nearby and there was no sign of a port or any other
structure, for that matter. Jhaki Bandar, we concluded was just a way station
where the fishermen stopped to refuel from their jerry cans, or had a lunch
break to cook some sea food. The boat was stopped short
of the muddy beach with barge poles and we all got off with our trousers
rolled up to the knees, trudging a few yards in what was water, then sludge
and finally soggy land. We decided to first take a
walking tour of the fort walls, utterly ruined as they were. At their base, the baked
brick walls are about one metre thick, and the height of what remains of the
walls is about two metres at most. The bricks were quite unusual, being about
the size and thickness of an average paperback novel, similar to Mughal
bricks but somewhat larger. The square fort has sides
roughly 100 metres in length, with four corner bastions and another eight in
pairs on each wall. The south-eastern quarter of the fort indicates the
remains of what may have been several rooms. The fort opens to the east and
is located at the tip of a triangle whose base is formed by a line joining
the towns of Gharo and Mirpur Sakro, about 22km away at the perpendicular. The area between the
eastern wall and the beach is littered with thousands of potsherds. The
designs painted on the terracotta pottery include zigzag patterns, six-spoked
circles, inter-locking S-shaped motifs and chevrons. Some of the designs were
etched instead of being painted. Many glazed pottery pieces with blue painted
patterns on a white background could also be seen. No human or animal motifs
were visible on the potsherds. Intriguingly, more than one object could be
interpreted as a lingam. Many perforated pottery pieces, similar to the
colanders seen at Harappan sites, were also visible in the debris. Potsherds were the major
debris seen at the site. An exception was a round metallic object which
looked like a punch-marked coin. The boatman assured us that it was indeed a
coin and he had picked up many that were lying at his home. Having to leave before the
low tide set in — with the risk of the boat getting stranded in sludge —
we shuffled back to our vessel before mid-day. It was also time for a meal of
shrimps that was to be cooked on board for Adil and Sharjeel (me having a
dull palate for crustaceans). For what purpose was the
fort built, by whom and when? Neither of those questions elicits a positive
answer from any known write-up, except for a brief mention of the “fort of
Bandel at the entrance of the river (Indus)” in History and Discovery by
Portuguese in the New World by P J François Lafitau.
As it happened, in 1555, a
locally deployed Portuguese fleet of 28 vessels with 700 marines on board
sailed towards Thatta. It was to provide relief to Mirza Isa Tarkhan, the
ruler of Lower Sindh who had requested help in his impending showdown with
Sultan Mahmud, the ruler of Upper Sindh. In the event, fighting was averted
after some sort of a compromise between the two Sindhi rulers, but Pedro
Barreto Rolim, the Commander of the Portuguese Fleet insisted that he be
remunerated in full, as agreed earlier. The Thatta chief was apparently
adamant that the Portuguese were entitled to the cost of the journey only, as
no fighting had taken place. Whatever may have incensed Pedro, the fate of
Thatta was sealed. In eight days of wanton slaughter, eight thousand locals
were killed and the town was put to ashes in what was the first ever maritime
attack on a location in Sindh. “The fort at Bandel made some resistance,
but being taken was demolished,” continues the passage in Lafitau’s book.
(Bandel apparently implies erstwhile Lahari Bandar, it being a mistake for
Bandar.) This brief account at least
confirms that the concept of coastal forts in Sindh was in vogue some time
before 1555. It is possible that in the wake of the sack of Thatta, a lesson
had been learnt and more forts at the mouths of Indus Delta estuaries had
been built for defensive purposes. Quite similar in purpose to the modern day
Coast Guards outposts, these forts may also have served the purpose of
customs offices to extract duties on goods being brought into Sindh coastal
waters. After all, much needed revenues had to be shared with the Sultans of
Delhi and later the Mughals, under whose suzerainty and patronage the rulers
of Sindh held power till the independent Kalhora rule started in 1701. Four such forts have been
mentioned by the Sindhi scholar Dr N A Baloch, viz Manhora (Karachi), Ratokot
(Gharo Creek), Vikkur (near Jati) and Kotri (off Kori Creek), all attributed
to the Talpurs, though the source of this information has not been quoted. The fort at Jhaki Bandar
has intriguingly been missed out by Baloch, but it has to be granted that the
modern day locations of forts may not correspond with the names that have
been recorded by historians. This is because of relocation of the ports due
to silting, which has been the bane of the Indus Delta since eons. The matter
is also complicated by the fact the forts being of red brick, are commonly
known as red fort or rato kot in Sindhi, while the actual name of only one is
Ratokot. If you can’t tell one
from another, the blame is not yours. There has been some mention
of the fort at Jhaki Bandar as being a forward stronghold for the defence of
the ancient town of Bhanbore. Suffice to say that the former is of baked
bricks while the latter is constructed of quarried stone and both are widely
apart in shape and the design of ramparts. To us it seemed that there was no
connection between the two and couldn’t have been contemporaneous by any
stretch of imagination. The boatman, however,
suggested that it was Raja Dahir who was the mastermind behind the fort at
Jhaki Bandar. We won’t be surprised — in a sign of the times — if we
next hear of it as being Muhammad bin Qasim’s handiwork! With heavy tans, parched
lips and muddied legs, we disembarked from the boat, paid off the boatman and
drove off to nearby Bhanbore. After guzzling some much needed beverages, we
did a quick survey of the site and also visited the small museum. We got back to Karachi
after a full 12 hours, though the tiredness vanished as Sharjeel regaled us
with some amusing stories. During our short trip to
Jhaki Bandar, we may not have been able to come up with any definite answers;
yet having studied the issue a little more since then, it can be surmised
that these coastal forts belonged to the 16th-18th centuries. They served the
dual purpose of guarding the entrance to the creeks, and housing customs
offices at the rudimentary ports of the Indus Delta. Further research could be
centred on study of the potsherds to determine the cultural affiliations of
the people who used them, along with a study of the coins to help determine
the era. Only then would the mystery of the fort at Jhaki Bandar be
unravelled satisfactorily. ksrtfl@yahoo.com
A collective symphony of
music In this day and
age, we ponder upon certain issues at hand that mostly derive from firm
dynamics defining the dissimilarities within our characteristics. But let’s not call it
‘dissimilarity’, let’s call it ‘uniqueness’; after all it’s more
pleasant to the ears. In any case such unique qualities among individuals
form the basis of a diverse society. One does, however, wonder
what gave birth to such discrepancies among individuals that ultimately
created so many dividing problems within our society. Unfortunately throughout my
travels I have yet to find an informal answer to such a formal question and
require more experience points in the fantastic game we play called life.
However, apart from our differences, we all enjoy and sometimes even crave
for a moment of joy that makes us move in all sorts of ridiculous ways. Yes,
you’re right, it is Music! In my ongoing journey, I
have been quite fortunate to experience enlightenment that Australia has to
offer. Apart from its beautiful beaches, rugged terrain with many world
famous landmarks and that bizarre eight feet tall jumping mammal, Australia
boasts Music as one of the marvels of its diversified society. By hosting many
international music festivals as well as domestic fiestas that give upcoming
artists exposure to audiences on a grand stage, Australia stands out as a
haven for global musicians. I recall standing in a dark
hall with flickering strobe lights that momentarily illuminated faces of all
sorts around me in a very packed and vibrant space. Notwithstanding their
backgrounds, everyone agreed that what they were hearing was nothing short of
excellence — their agreement obvious through their instinctive swaying to
the music. Speakers taller than me
were blasting sounds of all sorts in my ear that made me smile and wander
into a different state. However this sensation wasn’t individual; rather it
was shared by everyone in that room. Exiting the venue I asked
my group of friends if anyone had the slightest clue about the band, its
members or their origins. It was hardly surprising that no one had any
information; it was a spontaneous encounter for all of us. We had simply
waltzed into a random location and enjoyed the music that was presented to
us. I did not need to know the
lyrics or the artistes, nor was it a matter of whether or not that particular
type of music was ‘hip among the kids’, so to speak. All I needed to do
was show up and enjoy myself. The night continued with
several other similar encounters where we all had no clue what we were
getting ourselves into. But each time we left the venue with new friends and
fresh music on our lips that we all spoke of the following days as they were
now part of our individual collection and playlists. Such is an example of
countless nights that I have spent in the numerous cities of Australia
discovering music of various genres. But that’s not all. Australia playing
host to many renowned events and festivals worldwide allows for die-hard
fanatics to demonstrate their love for their favourite artistes and thus
allows for genres of all sorts to be celebrated within the society. From
Korean superstars to death metal or new age Electronic to blues classics,
Australians celebrate them all. Furthermore, the
environment that such festivities create as well as the demographic it
attracts is admirable. Where we in Pakistan fail to include varying
demographics of people within the music scene, Australians encourage the
participation of all to engage in the celebration of all genres of music. It
is simply a matter of making time to show up at such events. Everything else
is redundant. Such encouragement is
established simply by how the Australians communicate with one another.
Pakistanis actively debate politics, religion and stability of the country.
Most Australians, however, tend to keep their small talk around sport (which
is also as passionately loved) and music, leaving other attention- deserving
subjects for appropriate occasions. In a way they are fortunate enough to
allocate separate times to separate issues. In the time leading up to
the event, you feel the excitement escalating in the air that exceeds
expectation. It is at this point that you realise that everyone is with you
to make it a memorable event in their lives as well as yours. Conclusively,
such attitudes create an atmosphere that is favoured by musicians, resulting
in the ongoing increase of music festivities and tours within Australia.
Festivals such as ‘Splendor in the Grass’, ‘Future Music Festival’,
‘Falls Festival’, ‘Stereosonic’, etc., display a trend of increasing
artist lineups and show-days every successive year. On a final note,
Australians should be applauded for incorporating global music so strongly
into their culture that it resulted in the evident gain in popularity of
Australian artistes which ultimately brings music lovers from all over the
world to Australia each year. Needless to say, the Australian economy is
relatively dependent in various ways on the degree of funds the music
industry brings in per annum. So if you are ready for
your ultimate destination that may include beaches, isolated islands and the
experience of a sing-along with thousands of people to the tunes of your
favourites artistes, then incorporate Australia into your bucket list.
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