A collection of real-life stories, Neglected Christian Children of Indus by Azam Mairaj is the English translation, by Michelle Azam Mairaj, of his book Dharti Jaye Kiyun Paraey. It looks at the alienation of Pakistani Christian youth from Pakistani society and addresses how social discrimination and subjugation created outcast communities whose Christian descendents developed a sense of inferiority that causes them to exclude themselves from the wider mainstream.

The author, who is Christian himself, focuses the discussion on a particular group that converted at the hands of missionaries who came to the subcontinent with the Portuguese and British invaders. This group worked alongside Muslims in the independence movement, the Pakistan movement and the defence of Pakistan, but despite making supreme sacrifices for their motherland, they were left grievously wounded and alienated by their fellow citizens. Even in today’s progressive and civilised era, these children of the soil are still defined in their ancestral land by humiliatingly pejorative names such as “Shudar” [lowest-caste, untouchable Hindus], “Saansi” [Sikh gypsies], “Gugra” [non-believer gypsies], and “Mussullee” [those who converted to Islam after hardships]. In some places, they are known as “Tupriwas”, a demeaning term for nomads, and sweepers are insultingly called “bhangi” or “choorra chamaar.”

Mairaj writes that as a result of social exploitation, suppression of history and discrimination on the basis of caste and creed, a group of Indus inhabitants have developed a different attitude towards their own fellowmen; this attitude is the central issue of his book.

A look at why young Christians, despite being descendants of the soil, feel themselves alienated from Pakistani society, is also a call for action

In his professional capacity as a realtor, Mairaj observes that Christian real-estate agents would hide — not only from Muslims, but also from other white-collar Christians — any connection they might have with the sweeper communities. It seems some unwritten pact has enforced a conspiracy of silence, with both white- and blue-collar workers denying relationships with the other: Mairaj writes that while working in DHA, the locality’s sweepers said, “We don’t talk to you much in the office because they [white-collars or Muslims] will despise you afterwards.” Surely this is one reason for the poor economic condition of the Christians of this region. When their own people — after developing economically, socially and educationally — are not ready to accept them, how will they get back their lost pride, trampled by history? Perhaps the beginning of the search for a glorious future, from the splendid past, can be initiated from Mairaj’s own statement: “Yes, I am one of them even if our professions are not similar.”

The author recalls an eatery of a Muslim name that stated on a signboard outside: “Eating is prohibited for non-Muslims in this restaurant.” Julius Salik, a Christian member of the National Assembly, protested and the restaurant owner promptly removed the sign. Mairaj addresses his fellow Christians here, asking if they can follow Salik’s example, “Because when you hide the reality of your identity, it is because of the fear of embarrassment. But if you do not hide your identity then it overcomes your complex and empowers you with self-confidence while the other person loses the power to humiliate you.”

When the Portuguese and British missionaries converted lower-caste people to Christianity, the new religious identity brought them relatively better rights during the Raj. However, when the British left, the stigma of centuries past returned because people of other religions knew of the converts’ low-caste origins. The new oppressors — the government and general public of Pakistan and India — succeeded in robbing the children of the soil of their pride.

“Writing these lines makes me think of what the treatment received from the successive invaders and their own countrymen for thousands of years has done to the children of the soil. They think that ‘sweeping’ is their only profession. But this thinking is flawed. With education and skill, one can adopt any profession. According to Pakistan’s Constitution, Pakistani Christians can enter any profession, but are only denied access to the office of prime minister and president. We need to erase this inferiority complex from the minds of the coming generations of Pakistani Christians. We can prevent the future generation of Pakistani Christians from thinking that ‘sweeping’ is their destiny. We need to teach them that this is their land and here we can adopt any profession. We need to show them their glorious past by offering them Christian role models who have contributed to the Pakistani society. We have to encourage our youth to dream. As Pirzada Qasim Raza Siddiqi, chancellor of Nazeer Hussain University, Karachi, says:

‘Mein aisay shakhs ko zindon main kia shumaar karoon
Jo sochta bhi naheen, khwaab dekhta bhee naheen’
[How can I count him alive? Who does not think or dream].”

The mindset of non-Christian Pakistanis worsens the situation. Mairaj writes, “Before Partition, Muslims were the victims of the discriminatory attitude of Hindus and now they, by viewing the Christian sweepers with the same attitude, have successfully usurped that role.”

The author notes that even if, by chance of merit and hard work, Pakistani Christians acquire a high position in government, others still call them bhangi or choorra chamaar behind their backs. He narrates an incident where he went to meet a magistrate who happened to be Christian: “When we were sitting in the car, the [police] sergeant was called by a colleague who asked him in typical Pakistani police style, ‘Hey where are you going?’ to which the sergeant replied, ‘I am going to the choorra (sweeper).’”

One very important and interesting character in Neglected Christian Children of Indus is Leslie Middlecoat. As an eight-year-old, she slapped a classmate who told her, “This country is ours, not yours.” Middlecoat was the daughter of Wing Commander Mervyn Leslie Middlecoat. Mairaj writes that the military man tried consoling the child as best as he could: “[D]on’t quarrel with such people. Rather, forgive them and make your own morals and characters so high that their voices can’t reach you and your energy does not get consumed in these petty matters. Secondly, this is our country. Look at the flag of Pakistan — this green part belongs to your classmate, whom you beat up. That white part with the pole through it that keeps this flag hoisted, is yours. Therefore, we should continue to hold on to this white part firmly, so that green part continues to remain hoisted in the free air.”

On Nov 9, 2017, the Middlecoat family’s love for the country became a national symbol. The Pakistan Air Force honoured Wing Cmdr Middlecoat — recipient of the Sitara-i-Jurrat (Pakistan’s third highest military award) — by naming a park in Islamabad after him; he had been martyred on Dec 12, 1971, when, after volunteering for a mission to attack a heavily defended Indian airbase, his plane was shot down over the Arabian Sea.

Mairaj also points out that the discrimination is not exclusive to one specific faith: “Even though this book only focuses on a particular group of the children of the soil — the Christians of Pakistan — the condition of the rest needs the same attention and sympathy. After all, the nomads of the Cholistan desert and the Indus Valley natives in the Thar Desert, [such as] Kohli or Bheel tribes are still forced to live like the shudars of preceding centuries.

This millennial tale of cruelty is still continuing and will continue until the children of the soil realise their relationship to their land and attempt to regain their lost pride.”

The reviewer writes short fiction in Urdu and is currently working on her first novel

Neglected Christian
Children of Indus
By Azam Mairaj, Translated by Michelle Azam
Mairaj
Mairaj Publications, Karachi
ISBN: 978-9697708031
174pp.

Published in Dawn, Books & Authors, December 23rd, 2018