As we strolled through Shahjahanabad 'Bazariya' in Bhopal, on our way to the historic Islami Gate, I noticed a street lined with mutton shops on one side and pan shops, sweet shops, and even a temple on the other. This diverse and contrasting scene resembled confetti, symbolizing the stark yet interconnected fabric of this core city area in our country. As we moved from the narrow street to a multi-storied apartment, it was hard to imagine how Mahbooba Bi, with determination, climbed four flights of stairs to visit her daughters regularly, seemingly undisturbed by the dilapidated lift.
Like many others, she had made a multi-storied apartment her home, a result of demolishing old houses of well-to-do families to accommodate hundreds of others, placing immense strain on civic amenities. As I ascended the steps, numerous thoughts filled my mind with each landing we conquered, making me increasingly curious about the life that awaited us. In one of the spacious 2-bhk apartments, four generations lived harmoniously, welcoming us with warm smiles.
Mahbooba Bi, an agile woman with a sharp mind, dressed in a white chicken suit and neatly coifed gray hair, graciously interrupted her daily routine to share her story. Her deep, wise eyes and the lines etched on her face transported us 85 years back in time. She was born into an erudite Zamindar family in Shampur, a small town in Madhya Pradesh. Her father, a Forest Officer, provided her with religious education until she turned ten. She reminisced with disappointment about the lack of opportunities for girls to attend school in Shampur during the late 1930s, remarking, "Mahaul achcha nahi tha" (The environment wasn't conducive).
As a dedicated learner, she had a personal tutor from ages 10 to 15, during which she developed an enduring love for the Urdu language. 📚 She fondly recalled her affluent friends with whom she used to travel in curtain-clad palkis. However, at the tender age of 17, she married a young doctor, Mr. Yousuf Mohammed, from Bhopal. She spoke lovingly of their residence, a three-story traditional courtyard house, which later became the family's sole asset.
Driven by the family's desire for a son, she gave birth to seven children – six girls and one boy. However, her life took a tragic turn when her husband succumbed to cancer at the age of thirty. To save her husband's life, she sold all their property, only to see her efforts go in vain. A series of catastrophic events followed, including the loss of two married daughters and a young son-in-law. Yet, Mahbooba Bi, the unwavering lover of life, faced these challenges with resilience.
It's challenging to picture a young widow who had never ventured outside for work, observed purdah even within the confines of her house, and was left with no help except her three daughters to marry and one son to educate. She gathered the shattered pieces of her life and solved every puzzle with determination, instilling strong values in all her children, who have since thrived despite the hardships.
Her daughter-in-law, Firdaus, a school teacher, explained, "During that time, the practice of dowry was not prevalent, and only the essentials were provided." By the time she married off two more daughters with limited resources, her son, who was barely eight years old, began working at Radha Talkies. He fondly remembers how his monthly income of Rs.90 sustained the household's grocery needs. Mahbooba Bi continued to make batuas (traditional purses), stitched, and tutored to make ends meet. Her eyes gleamed with pride as she remarked, "I always wore gararas (traditional Bhopali attire) that I stitched beautifully with my own hands, even as a child."
Mohd. Yameen Qureshi, her son, vividly recalls a time when he was scared to be outside the house past 7 p.m. and needed an escort to return home after selling her mother's batuas. Overwhelmed by memories, Mahbooba Bi's vivacious eyes glistened with tears as she expressed her love for writing through shers (couplets), which served as an outlet for her heart. She wrote even while cooking, and her unpublished writings adorned her shelf✍️. She romantically added:
"Shama ki lau mein humare khayal jalte hain,
Kabhi kabhi ye aansun beh nikalte hain,
Ae shama, qasam hai tujhe, itni tez na jalna,
Humare zakhm teri aanch se pighalte hain."
The family takes pride in allowing Mahbooba Bi to lead the household. Her granddaughter reminded her of her All India Radio presentation, where she recited her ghazals in public for the first time. With a twinkle in her eyes, she whispered the title, "Mehboob-e-Yousuf," in memory of her beloved husband.
Mahbooba Bi's poignant story serves as a testament to the fact that life can throw us off course several times, but it also exemplifies an unyielding will to find happiness and strength in adversity.🎉
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