Image & Text contributed by Jayabrato Chatterjee, Kolkata
My earliest memories were borne back in Dehradun (now in Uttarakhand), where I spent my childhood with my mother, Meera Chatterjee, my maternal grandmother, Kamala Bisi and my Jethu, Rathi Jethu (Bengali term for father’s elder brother), Rathindra Nath Tagore. Jethu was Rabindra Nath Tagore’s second child & eldest son.
Those were the first eleven and most impressionable years of my childhood. I still remember the rattle of the Dehradun Express that would carry us back to our home in the valley, away from the bustle and noise of Calcutta (now Kolkata).
Jethu had left his home in Calcutta to come and live in Dehradun with my family. It was Jethu, who had allotted me a garden patch in Mitali, our home at 189/A Rajpur Road, Dehradun and asked me to tend it with care. He even bought me gardening tools, a pair of sears and a watering can. And as I had held his finger tightly, he had led me through the nursery, pointing out names of flowers usually associated with an English garden – Phlox, Larkspurs, Hollyhocks, Ladies lace, Nasturtium, Sweet-peas, Crocuses, Azaleas and Narcissi.
Mitali our home was sheltered by the Himalayas, by the Shivalik ranges that were a riot of Mary Palmers, Crimson hibiscuses and sprawling lawns flanked by flower beds down five cobbled steps. I remember watching the shooting stars that raced across the sky at twilight. Mitali was Ochre in colour, with six large bedrooms, two kitchens, garages, servants’ quarters and a tin shed near the Mango and Lichi orchards where our cows Shyama and Julie – mooed and Koeli, the Tibetan terrier, barked her head off. Beyond the shed lay a wire-meshed chicken barn crowded with cackling Leghorns and a Black Minorca rooster who at the crack of dawn would awaken Ghanshyam, the mali (gardner) with a start. And pervading through the garden was, of course, Jethu’s voice, gently instructing the gardeners with a voice so civilised and kind that all were bound to pay attention to words spoken with equal measure to one and all.
Born on November 27, 1888, Jethu was sent by his father, Rabindranath Tagore, in 1906, to the University of Illinois to study Agriculture and where he was instrumental in starting the now famous Cosmopolitan Club. Jethu’s interests were varied and eclectic.
My strongest memories remain of him bent over a block of wood in the afternoons, by the light of a dull electric bulb, diligently inlaying it with intricate chips of ebony and ivory or shaping it into a beautiful jewellery box, a pen holder or a coffee table. He was usually assisted by a skilled and slightly cross-eyed Sikh carpenter named Bachan Singh – who would also let me chip away at a redundant wedge with a miniature saw and shape it into building blocks that I would later colour.
On my fifth birthday, Jethu presented me with a wonderful wooden steed he had made – a cross between a rocking horse and a miniature pony – complete with stirrups and a comfortable seat. He had placed him strategically on springs so that I could ride the foal to my heart’s content without falling off. For a while this charger became the love of my life and only if I was feeling generous would I share it with Bugga, the janitor’s son, who was my best friend. Bugga was snotty-nosed & mischief-laden who knew where the parrots would nest for the summer or where we could find caterpillars and tadpoles during the monsoons. He had also charmed members of Mitali by doing an impeccable act on Ravan, watched at the local Ramleela. I too would slip out at night, without my mother or Jethu finding out, with my ayah, Kanchi Ama, and walk at least two miles guided by the moon to the Ramleela grounds where the local servants metamorphosed into delectable actors. The Ramleela was certainly the high point of my Dusserah holidays when I came home from my boarding school and delighted in watching Langra Karesan, another servant, snivel through his performance as Sita in one of my mother’s old chiffon sarees.
I was hell-bent on becoming an actor too. So I’d sing my way through most of Balmiki Pratibha (an Opera penned by Gurudev Rabindranath Tagore, Jethu’s father) exclusively for Jethu’s pleasure. My reward was a set of wonderful wooden swords that he crafted for me and the next time we went to Calcutta, Bhola babu, who was the manager at Jorasanko, was instructed by Jethu to buy me a dacoit’s costume, complete with a pair of false mustachios, and take me to see the Great Russian Circus. On rain-filled evenings he would sit me on his lap, play his Esraj (Indian Harp) at Santiniketan, lovingly running the bow on the strings, and teach me to sing songs whose meanings I’m still discovering – Oi ashono toley; Roop shagorey doob diyechhi; Amaarey tumi oshesh korechho and Kholo kholo dwaar.
Winter holidays in Calcutta were never complete without a dinner with Ma and Jethu at Skyroom on Park Street and a special Sunday lunch at the Firpo’s on Chowringhee. My table manners – taught to me at Mitali – came in handy. It was Jethu who showed me the difference between a fish and a carving knife, between a salad and a quarter plate, a pastry and a regular fork; he showed me how to use the various items of the Mappin & Webb silver cutlery that had been arranged at table and insisted that I washed and wore clean clothes for dinner, ate my soup without slurping and consumed the rest of the meal with my mouth closed and a napkin spread over my lap. Lunch at home was typically Bengali, consisting of the usual rice, dal, shukto and a fish or meat curry. But dinner, sharp at 7.30 pm, was always European, served with flourish, item by item, by Jethu’s personal valet, Bahadur, at the formal dining room on Royal Doulton crockery. It was pleasure to see Jethu peel an apple at breakfast with great ceremony and elegance. Now when I look back, in fact every meal that I remember having with him was an art.
During my childhood it was very fashionable to host tea parties. Jethu had inducted Ma into sipping the most fragrant of Darjeeling teas – the delicately-scented Flowery Orange Pekoe. He was also a wonderful cook and often baked me a cake for my birthday. Some evenings, he would walk into the kitchen and stir up a mean Shepherd’s Pie and a fluffy mango soufflé. And when the orchards in Mitali had a surplus of Guavas, he would make the best Guava jelly that I have ever tasted.
A variety of celebrated invitees and house guests came to dinner – like Uncle Leonard (Leonard Elmhirst), Pankaj Mullick & Suchitra Mitra, legendary musicians, to scientist, Satyendra Nath Bose on his way to Mussoorie, Pandit Nehru (who often visited Dehra), Lady Ranu, Buri Mashi and Krishna Mesho (Nandita and Krishna Kripalani). I clearly remember the performance of a play, Pathan, by Prithviraj Kapoor and his troupe who had come to Dehra Dun. Jethu was invited to the show as Chief Guest and Ma and I had accompanied him. The next evening the players were invited to dinner at home. In the cast were Sati Mashi (whose daughter Ruma-di was then married to Kishore Kumar) and the very young and handsome Shammi and Shashi Kapoor who turned many feminine heads at the reception. But Prithviraj-ji, affectionately known as Papaji, insisted on sitting at Jethu’s feet throughout the evening, much to Jethu’s embarrassment. He just wouldn’t budge and kept saying, ‘How can I have the arrogance to sit next to Gurudev Rabindranath’s son?’ He dragged me by my hand and had me sit on his lap, ruffling my hair as he talked to other guests.
Jethu and Ma had formed a cultural organisation – Rabindra Samsad – and many plays and dance dramas by Gurudev Rabindranath Tagore were performed by its members. Ma was a veteran actress, having played Rani Sudershana, (a name that Gurudev Tagore would address her by thereafter) in Rakta Karabi and Rani Lokeshwari in Natir Puja, all directed by Gurudev in Santiniketan. Ma was his favourite actress.
So watching Jethu too direct her in Bashikaran, Lokkhir Porikhha and Chirokumar Sabha was, for me, a treat. Ma as well, directed Natir Puja with my sister playing Ratnabali, Ritu Ranga & Bhanushingher Padavali and a children’s play, Tak-duma-dum, scripted by Jethu’s aunt, Jnanadanandini Debi, where I played the lead as the wily jackal! Rabindra Samsad held regular musical soirees and showed Bengali films. My introduction to Satyajit Ray’s Debi (Devi) and Pather Panchali happened in the faraway Dehradun’s Prabhat cinema. Encouraged to participate in all the cultural events was for me, a huge education.
Jethu was also an ardent painter and spent long hours at his easel, working on beautiful water-coloured landscapes and delicate flower studies. Sometimes Ma painted along with him and also crafted many items via the complex art of Batik. My mother’s Batik parasols and slippers were greatly admired as were her exclusive batik stoles and sarees. I can still remember the smell of melting wax and feel my fingers stained again with several colours.
The relationship Ma shared with Jethu was not something that his father, Gurudev Tagore was aware of. Gurudev died in 1941 while their relationship must have begun somewhere around 1948. With accusing whispers Jethu was deserted both by his colleagues in Santiniketan and his family members. There was a 30-year age difference between Ma & Jethu but I would describe their relationship as being very respectful & tender. Having seen Ma and Jethu together and having grown up with them in Dehradun, I know what this relationship meant to them. Most of his life Jethu had felt lonely and misunderstood, but in Ma he had found a great companion.
One of Jethu’s other favourite hobbies was making perfumes that were later filled into the most delicate glass-blown bottles that I had ever seen. He’d gift Ma a different fragrance on her birthdays. Many a mornings would be spent combining the scents and concentrates of flowers like roses, juhi and mogra that came all the way from Ujjain in Madhya Pradesh. He’d leave no stones unturned till he got the aroma right, pulling away at his cigarette – either Three Castles or John Peel or Abdulla Imperial. His perfume bottles became coveted possessions for all those who were lucky enough to receive them. Usually, after the Rabindra Samsad shows, there would be lively cast parties at Mitali and the actors and singers waited with baited breaths till Jethu gave them a bottle of scent as a parting present.
Around my Jethu, light-footed and non-intrusive, virtually like the fragrance of the golden champaka blossoms that he loved so dearly, an innate sense of aesthetics kept vigil. His impeccable sense of coutour, interior decor, landscaping and gardening lent to his persona.
The last ten years of his life and the first ten years of mine were, for both of us, absolutely golden. But when he died at the age of 73 in June of 1961, Mitali or even I could never be the same again without its kind and gentle prince, my beloved foster father. Yet, as I write today, I drift back to the enchantment that was my childhood spent in Jethu’s benign shadow. And in the splendoured story of my Ma and Jethu, I re-live the most civilized, glorious and compassionate friendship that I will ever care to remember.
Jul 02, 2013 | Categories: 1930s, 1940s, Accolades & Awards, Acting, Actress, Adoption, Agriculture & Farming, Animals & Birds, Architecture, Architecture, Aristocracy, Arrivals & Departures, Artist, Batik, Bengali, Bengali, Calcutta, Celebrations, Civil Partnership, Classical, Clubs, Committees & Senates, Drawing, Dusserah, Elite, English Medium, Fashion & Trends, First of a kind, Food & Drink, Foster Parent, Founders, Future icons from the Past, Hair Styles, Himalayas, Hindustani Classical, Holidays, House of their dreams, Indian Dance, Indian Music, Interiors, Lifestyles, Literary, Love & Romance, Men's Clothes, Most Popular, Movie Theatre, Music, Art, Dance & Culture, Parties, Personal Collections, Philanthropy, Poet, Pre-1947 Indian Regions & States, Pre-Independence, Previous, Public Spaces, Railways, Relationships, Relocation, Scientist, Shoes, Singer, Smoking, Theatre, Town Fairs, Travel, University of Illinois, Uttarakhand, Vehicles & Transportation, West Bengal, Women Empowerment, Writer | Tags: 1930s, Abdulla Imperial, Agriculture & Farming, Art, Ayah, Azaleas, Balmiki Pratibha, Bashikaran, Batik, Bengali, Calcutta, Chirokumar Sabha, Cigarette, Cosmopolitan Club, Crocuses, Darjeeling tea, Dehradun, Dehradun Express, Devi, Dusheraah, Dusserah, Firpo's, Friendships, Gardening, Great Russian Circus, Himalayas, Hollyhocks, Inlay work, Jayabrato Chatterjee, Jnanadanandini Deb, John Peel, Jorasanko, Kishore Kumar, Kolkata, Krishna Kriplani, Ladies lace, Lady Ranu, Larkspurs, Leonard Elmhirst, Lokkhir Porikhha, Love, Maid, mango soufflé, Mappin & Webb, Meera Chatterjee, Mitali, Music, Nandita Kriplani, Narcissi., Nasturtium, Opera, Orange Pekoe, Painting, Park Street, Pather Panchali, Perfumery, Phlox, Play, Poetry, Prabhat cinema, Prithviraj Kapoor, Rabindra Nath Tagore, Rabindra Samsad, Rabindranath Tagore, Rakta Karabi, Ramleela, Rani Sudershana, Rathindra Nath Tagore, Rotary Club, Royal Doulton, Santiniketan, Satyajit Ray, Satyendra Nath Bose, Script, Servants, Shammi Kapoor, Shashi Kapoor, Shepherd’s Pie, Shivalik, Shukto, Skyroom, Songs, Sweet-peas, Theatre, Three Castles, Ujjain, University of Illinois, West Bengal | 6 Comments »
Image and Text contributed by Waqar Ul Mulk Naqvi, Punjab Province, Pakistan
This is the only image of my Late father Syed Ali Mehdi Naqvi I possess. He was born in 1930 in a small district called Beed then in Hyderabad, Andhra Pradesh, India. In 1960, when new states were created on the basis of linguistics, the Marathi dominant town of Beed became a part of Maharashtra.
My father graduated from Usmania University, Hyderabad (now Osmania) in Masters of Persian when he was only 18, in 1949.
My grandfather Hassan Naqvi was a lawyer with the High Court of the Nizam of Hyderabad at the time and also owned a lot of agricultural land in Pimpalwadi (District Beed, Now in Maharashtra). Agriculture was a big part of the family income.
When Partition of India and Pakistan was announced, my grandfather was still very optimistic that Hyderabad will be declared an independent state. The Nizam of Hyderabad was very adamant about that. But the Indian Government did not comply and the Nizam had to surrender in 1948.
With a lot of sorrow, and seeing no other option in a very precarious India, my grandparents along with their children were finally forced to join thousands of others and leave India in 1955. All of our assets, a house at Muhalla Qila as well as the cultivated agricultural land were left behind, abandoned.
They migrated to Karachi via Bombay on a ship. With our roots, and legacies all left behind, my family had to go through a lot of hurt, disillusionment and suffering. Consequences of which can be felt till today. In my family’s words “we were simply plucked and sent into a dark and dangerous journey to Pakistan with no home, no job or even land to call our own.” Many people along with them, never made it to the shores of Pakistan and many were killed right after they landed.
I feel great sorrow when I think about that. Now I work in a financial institution as a manager in a Punjab province of Pakistan with my mother and two siblings. In all these years, I have never stopped thinking about what could have been.
Mar 07, 2012 | Categories: 1930s, 1940s, 1947 India Pakistan Partition, 1950s, Abandonment, Agriculture & Farming, Andhra Pradesh, Battle and Conflict, Bombay to Karachi, Certificates, Division of States, Documents, Education, Hyderabad, India, Indian Politics, Islamic, Karachi, Maharashtra, Masters, Men, Men's Clothes, Migration, Most Popular, Muslim, Mustache, Nizam of Hyderabad, Noteworthy Journeys, Now Pakistan, Osmania University, Pakistan, Pre-1947 Indian Regions & States, Pre-Independence, Psychological & Emotional Trauma, Punjab Province, Solicitor, Western Clothes | Tags: 1930s, 1940s, 1947, 1947 India Pakistan Partition, 1950s, Abandonment, Agriculture & Farming, Andhra Pradesh, Battle and Conflict, Beed, Bombay, Bombay Presidency, Bombay to Karachi, Certificates, Division of States, Documents, Education, Employment, Family Income, Hairstyle, High Court, Hyderabad, Indian Forces, Indian Politics, Islamic, Karachi, Land, Lawyer, Linguistics, Maharashtra, Marathi, Masters, Migration, Muslim, Mustache, Nizam of Hyderabad, Noteworthy Journeys, Now Pakistan, Osmania University, Pakistan, Partition, Passenger Ship, Passport Photograph, Persian, Pimpalwadi, Portrait, Pose, Pre Independence, Pre-1947 Indian Regions & States, Previous, Psychological & Emotional Trauma, Punjab Province, Refugees, Ship, solicitor, States, Suffering, Usmania University, Waqar Ul Mulk Naqvi | 23 Comments »
Image and Text contributed by Anshumalin Shah, Bangalore
This image of maternal grandfather, Shri Manikchand Veerchand Shah and our extended family was photographed in November 1956, by the famous ‘Malage Photographer – Oriental Photo Studio’ who charged a tidy sum of 30-0-0 (Rupee-Anna-Paise) for two Black & White 6” x 8”copies with embossed-border mounts. The occasion was my grandfather’s birthday, he had just turned 60.
The family was photographed in the front yard of the bungalow called ‘Ratnakuti’ opposite the Fort in Solapur (then Sholapoor), Maharashtra. Ratnakuti was one of twin bungalows built around 1932 as mirror images of each other, known as ‘Jod-Bangla’. Beautifully crafted in stone and plaster, with imposing pillars, balconies and rooms with ceramic-chip handcrafted flooring, exquisite teak, brass grills for windows, coloured glass panes on windows and doors, verandahs with neat terracotta tiles, a large court-yard in front, ‘Ratnakuti’ and its twin would never fail to draw the attention of passers-by and stands to this day as a well known landmark. Eventually, the two bungalows were sold and are now owned by the Goyal family.
My grandfather, Manikchand Veerchand Shah, born in 1896, came from a pioneering and visionary Gujarati Digambar Jain family. He was a self-educated, successful entrepreneurial man with modest beginnings. Before 1910, he along with his younger brother, Walchand Motichand Shah, worked in a Saree shop of their guardian where they got paid One Paisa for every saree they neatly folded, ready for dispatch or sale and delivered on a bicycle to the shop at Phaltan Galli.
As they grew up together, my grandfather and his brother established and operated several businesses together complementing each other’s strengths. The businesses included a handloom cloth dyeing unit, in Valsang, near Solapur, for which the dyes were imported from Japan. They also began importing General Motors cars, motorcycles and trucks around 1922. I am told my grandfather would drive and deliver the imported truck chassis himself from Bombay to Pune and Sholapur. Their firm ‘Sholapur Motor Stores’ continues on in Pune, albeit only as a Fuel Station. He also established the well-known ‘India Garage’ in the 1930s where the present showrooms of Renault and Volkswagen stand, still operated by the family.
Closely associated with the freedom movement in Solapur, opposing the Martial Law imposed in 1930, he was arrested by the British, sent to Bijapur Central Jail and later exiled. Not to be outdone by the British, he used his stay at Bijapur Jail to monitor the establishment of a ‘Sholapur Motor Stores’ branch in the city.
Also associated with the Hindu Mahasabha, he rubbed shoulders with very important personalities like V. D. Savarkar, Dr. K. B. Hedgewar, M. S. Golwalker Guruji and Gulabchand Hirachand Doshi. While he was also deeply involved with several causes for the people of Valsang, unfortunately, owing to his association with the Hindu Mahasabha, an irate mob of villagers from Valsang set his car on fire in a frenzied reaction to the assassination of Mahatma Gandhi on January 30, 1948. Barely managing to escape with his life, he was deeply hurt and disillusioned by the senseless act by the people of Valsang. In consequence, he wound up his businesses and left Valsang, never to return.
After the death of his wife, my grandmother, when he was just 34, and as a sign of love for her, he changed his attire to only pristine white – a white turban, coat and a dhoti with white canvas pump shoes. While visiting us in Hyderabad, he would regularly buy the special black metal ‘Bidriware’ buttons for his white coats from a handicraft showroom at Abid Road.
My grandfather was a man of many parts. He was the Director on the Board of Bank of Maharashtra Ltd. As well as on the governing council for several religious and temple trusts. His contribution to the educational infrastructure development from his own funds at Solapur is widely acknowledged. He offered personal loans, scholarships and donor’s seats at the Walchand College of Engineering, Sangli for students pursuing higher studies in the 1950s and 60s. Several successful senior Engineers owe their careers to him.
Farming, Gardening, and Photography were his passions. I remember us youngsters gathering on his farms near Sholapur during summer holidays and enjoying the juiciest mangoes to our brim. Quite taken up with Photography as well, he had acquired a glass-negative Camera in the 1920s and his collection of glass negatives and pictures are our family’s priceless treasures.
My grandfather passed away in June 1968. Many members of the two older generations of the three appearing in the pictures have also passed on. The third generation now have their own children and grand-children. I feel very honoured to have shared some of the birthday celebrations along with my grandfather as we were both born only a few days apart.
Time moves on, but photographs manage to freeze fleeting moments here and there. If we could preserve these photographs, we succeed in reliving those moments over and over again and again.
Mar 06, 2012 | Categories: 1920s, 1930s, 1940s, 1950s, 1960s, Agriculture & Farming, Assassinations & Attempts, Birthdays, Bombay, Bungalow, Business-man / Business-woman, Charity, Committees & Senates, Currency, Decor, Development, Elite, Entrepreneur, Exile, Factory & Manufacturing Units, Freedom Fighters, Friendships, Gujarati, Head Gear, House of their dreams, Imports & Exports, Imprisonment, Indian Clothes, Indian Clothes, Indian Politics, Industrialisation, Interiors, Jain, Japan, Jewellery, Landmarks, Maharashtra, Men, Men's Clothes, Mourning, Oriental Photo Studio, Personal Collections, Philanthropy, Photo Collection, Photo Studio, Public Sector, Pune, Rags to Riches, Riots, Sarees, Solapur, Trader, Vehicles & Transportation, Violence, Widower, Women, Women's Clothes | Tags: 1920s, 1930s, 1940s, 1950s, 1960s, Agriculture & Farming, Anna, Anshumalin Shah, Architecture, Assassination of Mahatma Gandhi, Assassinations & Attempts, Attire, Bank of Maharashtra, Bidari-ware, Bijapur Central Jail, Birthday, Birthdays, Black & White, Bombay, British Empire, bungalows, Business-man, Buttons, Cars, Charity, Committees & Senates, Currency, Decor, Development, Dr. K. B. Hedgewar, Elite, embossed-border mounts, Entrepreneur, Exile, Factory & Manufacturing Units, Family Business, Family Portrait, Farming, Fort, Freedom Fighters, Friendships, Fuel Station, Gardening, General Motors, glass-negative Camera, Gujarati, Gujarati Digambar Jain, Gulabchand Hirachand Doshi, Handloom, Head Gear, Hindu Mahasabha, House of their dreams, Hyderabad, Import, Imports & Exports, Imprisonment, Indian Currency, Indian Politics, Industrialisation, Interiors, Jain, Japan, Jewellery, Jod-Bangla, Landmarks, M. S. Golwalker Guruji, Maharashtra, Malage Photographer – Oriental Photo Studio, Mangoes, Manikchand Veerchand Shah, Martial Law, Mourning, Oriental Photo Studio, Personal Collections, Phaltan Galli, Philantrope, Photo Studio, Photography, Public Sector, Pune, Ratnakuti, Renault, Riots, Rupee-Anna-Paise, Sangli, Sarees, Sholapoor, Sholapur Motor Stores, Showroom, Solapur, Trader, Trucks, Turban, V. D. Savarkar, Valsang, Vehicles & Transportation, Violence, Volkswagen, Walchand College of Engineering, Walchand Motichand Shah, Widower | 6 Comments »
Image and text contributed by Arun Kumar Nangla, London/New Delhi
This picture was taken in a studio in Sarojini Nagar, Delhi in 1958 for official employee records of the Union Public Service Commission (UPSC). Their office used to be at India Gate.
My grandfathers and great-grandfathers were all farmers and land owners from an area near the Bhakra-Nangal Dam, Hoshiarpur in Punjab. (hence my last name). In 1956, my father became the first person to dare leave his village & family profession. He travelled to Delhi in search of change and a respectable government job. He was 21 years old then and 12th Pass. He was abreast in reading and writing in Urdu, as Urdu was in those days the official state language of Punjab, and Punjabi per-say was only spoken at home. Much later into his life in Delhi, he learnt how to speak, read and write in Hindi and a bit of English.
People often ask me the reason for ‘Kumar’ in my name. As far as I know, People including my parents in those times were very influenced by successful film Stars like Dilip Kumar and Manoj Kumar, and therefore a ‘Kumar’ was added to my name too. It offered a semblance of success and its use was highly popular and trendy. Many of the people you may know with the middle or last name “Kumar”, were named so because of the very same reason.
Sep 11, 2010 | Categories: 1950s, Delhi, Mustache, Name Change, Punjab, Punjabi, Punjabi, Urdu | Tags: 1950s, Agriculture & Farming, Arun Nangla, Bhakra Nangal Dam, Delhi, Dilip Kumar, Employee Records, Farmers, Film Stars, Government Service, Hoshiarpur, India Gate, Kumar, Land owners, Last Name, Manoj Kumar, Middle Name, Migration, Mustache, Name Change, Nangla, Official Language, Punjab, Punjabi, Sarojini Nagar, Studio Portraits, Union Public Service Commission, UPSC, Urdu | 1 Comment »