THIS ABOVE ALL
Writer with good standing
Khushwant Singh 

I FIRST met Sadia Dehlvi at an exhibition of calligraphy — Arabic and Urdu. She was sitting on a moorha in the centre of the room. I was bowled over by her looks, and told her so. She became a regular visitor to my home. She belonged to a prosperous Muslim family, which lived in a sprawling mansion on Sardar Patel Marg.

Sadia had a set of rooms to herself. The family met at meal times. They ate the best of Mughalai food. Then suddenly the family broke up as her parents decided to live apart. Sadia was on her mother’s side. They sold the mansion to Mayawati, Chief Minister of Uttar Pradesh. From their share, Sadia, her mother and brother bought three flats on a quiet road along side Humayun’s tomb.

Sadia met her second husband Raza Parvez in my home, where their marriage took place. Gyani Zail Singh and I signed her nikahnama. She moved to Pakistan for a year or so. Her aggressively Indian attitude did not go down well with the Pakistan government. Her husband was fired from his job and was forced to return to India. We resumed our relationship.

She divorced Raza and married a married man with a wife and five children. She brought her third husband to meet me and get my approval. I refused to approve of him. He was illiterate and without a proper job. He lived off getting protection money from shopkeepers and roughing up people on payment of a fee. Despite my strong disapproval, Sadia married him.

When I told her she was making a big mistake marrying a man with a family, she replied: "Islam mein vajib hai (It is allowed by Islam." I admonished her: "Iss zamaaney mein vajib nahin (It is not allowed in present times.)" The marriage lasted a few months.

She has finally decided not to marry again. She also resolved to cease being a social butterfly and became the Muslim community’s voice on national issues.

Her articles are published in India’s leading newspapers. She has also published a book, Sufism — The Heart of Islam. It has become a top seller in India and Pakistan. Now she has compiled a book on Sufi shrines in Delhi.

They are to be seen in different parts of the city. They are not of architectural excellence, but every one of them has a tale of miracles performed by the man buried there. It makes a fascinating reading.

Many years ago I happened to be in London at the same time as Lata Mangeshkar, who was scheduled to sing in Albert Hall. It was an unforgettable experience. The hall was packed with Indians and Pakistanis. She opened the programme with her most popular duet: "Savan ka maheena." As she sang the first line, there was a thunderous applause. It was exactly what the audience expected as a starter.

After the applause died down, she began again:

A male voice corrected her:

She started all over again and repeated:

The male voice admonished her:

Lata had to start all over again:

This time the audience joined in singing with her and clapping its hands till the song ended. The meaning of the song is:

It is the month of monsoon;

The gale blows with a loud noise;

The heart dances in such a way;

As peacocks dance in the woods.

Mother-in-law (in India): A woman capable of making your life miserable.

Outside India: A woman you never fight with, because where else will you find such a dedicated baby sitter for free?

Husband (In India): A boring human species, who listens more to his mother than you, and orders you around to serve him, his parents and siblings.

Outside India: Still boring, but now a useful human species that comes in handy when the house needs vacuuming, laundry, baby sitting and shopping sometimes.

Friends (In India): A person whose house you can drop into any time of the day or night and you will always be welcome.

Outside India: A person whom you have to call first to check and make sure he is not busy.

Wife (In India): A woman who gives you your underwear and towel when you go to take a shower and also cooks for you.

Outside India: A woman who yells at you not to leave the tub dirty when you go to take a bath.

(Courtesy: Vipin Buckshey, Delhi)