Topi is a refreshing compilation of stories by a master story-teller, Shah Naz Hayat Khan. Life in Pakistan, spanning over a century, is chronicled with spice and joy de vivre. Are the Pathans really the lost tribe of Israel? What trouble will the young Khan get into next? What is it like to grow up in a frontier village? With gusto, flavor, and humor, Topi answers these questions and more.
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"A promising writer and story teller captures our imagination, and lets us taste, hear, see, and feel our away around Pakistani Life." -- John R. Barker, author and world traveler.
"It is as if the reader is sitting around a campfire with villagers as a seasoned Pakistani story-teller begins to weave tales going back many generations. Inescapably human, his descriptions captivate, mesmerize. Punctuated with folk humor based his own experiences and hearsay, we hear him describe the escapades of the young Khan, who believes that everything planted will grow. By the time the evening has ended we have a picture of the history of a century of violence, survival, and a humor born out of desperation. At the crossroads of Asia we have found the Pathans at odds with Afgans, Hindus, Russians, and Sikkhs, all of which invaded their domain. We get glimpses of a warm and loyal family life. However, we experience the violent death of Khan's own mother, and begin to understand the pathos of Pakistani life as well.
"It is as if the reader is sitting around a campfire with villagers as a seasoned Pakistani story-teller begins to weave tales going back many generations. Inescapably human, his descriptions captivate, mesmerize. Punctuated with folk humor based his own experiences and hearsay, we hear him describe the escapades of the young Khan, who believes that everything planted will grow. By the time the evening has ended we have a picture of the history of a century of violence, survival, and a humor born out of desperation. At the crossroads of Asia we have found the Pathans at odds with Afgans, Hindus, Russians, and Sikkhs, all of which invaded their domain. We get glimpses of a warm and loyal family life. However, we experience the violent death of Khan's own mother, and begin to understand the pathos of Pakistani life as well.
"With Topi, Shah-Naz Hayat Khan catapults himself to the ranks of the great story-tellers of history. We have a living record of a fascinating people that scintillates with vivid phrases and intriguing plot. Topi is written with a detachment and yet a love of life that comes from a wisdom gained by immersing oneself deeply in one's own culture." -- From Abbey Reviews, 04/12/98 Copyright 1998 Abbey Reviews, all rights reserved.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
One--Coming To Topi
They came to the village in the days of horseback, or maybe they rode camels. Horses or camels, what difference does it make? Either was possible. Rummaging through the forbidden contents of three or four wooden boxes lying in a store room, I found a document declaring that Great-Grandfather had leave to send seventy of his camels through the state of Umb, tax free. That was how trade was carried on with India in those days. The metallic round container with a porous lid, which had carefully borne the once-valuable document, though still sturdy, was rusted into ugliness. The license for free passage had been a token of friendship from the Nabob of Umb. Great-Grandfather was often his guest. In fact, at one of the dinners he liked a particular kind of halvah so much, that the Nabob presented him the secret recipe.
It is easy to spot an outsider from the way he utters the name of the village. We pronounce Topi as 'Toopai' and they say 'Toop', or if the visitor happens to be a Punjabi, he goes 'Topee'. Not that we had always lived here. We came a long time ago. No one now knows when. I do know, for that's what I have been told, that we are from the clan Sanakhel of the tribe Yousafzai, descendants of the prophet, Isaac. Occasionally, Moses is mentioned as one of the ancestors. Maybe that's true, for most of us are beak- nosed, and they do mention Egypt in the songs and stories at Kissa Khawani Bazaar in Peshawar. Quite puzzling, considering until recently most Pathans hadn't ventured beyond the confines of their own territory. The rest of India was another land altogether. Of course, they invaded it, ruled it, and some tribes had even settled there for good. However, Egypt was so far that most wouldn't have known where it was. They were the 'lost tribe', some conjecture. In which case, they were very lost and had strayed afar. On the other hand, Kissa Khawani Bazaar is not a very reliable source of history. A tourist once questioned the much-mended and worn teapots and cups in the teashops. He was informed that they had been damaged during Alexander the Great's invasion. Then one was sold to him at a hefty price.
'Blue-blooded' is the term which some relatives occasionally, but proudly drop. There must be at least a hundred thousand of the prophet's prolific progeny in our land. They hold their heads high, pull back their shoulders, and strut, thanks to the claim. We are from Topi, though hereditarily distinct from the village, except for one other family. After about seven generations of intermarriages, the two families have come to 'daggers drawn'. Well, not exactly at 'daggers drawn', but more like a cloak and dagger situation. There is a rumor that the other family was behind Grandfather's murder. Seven people were sentenced to death and hung for that. The two families were very civil when they inevitably met, but true love was no longer lost.
Someone wrote a book about the Yousafzais, who an uncle declares as 'the thoroughbreds amongst Pathans'. That book won a presidential award. However, another uncle thinks the author somewhat rootless, writing so much about our tribe in an effort to become one of us. That, is not possible. We are never supposed to boast of our roots. As my Father once said, "Only the rootless mention their roots." All this makes for an interesting amalgam of pride and humility.
What about this 'lost tribe'? Plenty of names following Isaac and his descendants are lost for good in the murky obscurity of time. Maneer Khan is the first name to come out of this mist. In all likelihood, he was not the first to arrive in Topi, but he became Malik of the village. So, all taxes were rendered to him. These taxes were used for municipal purposes, including procurement of weapons and horses for fighting. His eldest son, Muhammad Khan inherited the Maliki. However, at that time Topi was doing poorly in their war against the invading British. Having gained sufficient ground, and in order to get the rest without much ado, the British invited the clans of Yousafzai to a truce, a 'jirga', as it is called in our 'Pushto' language. They promised they would allow all titles and positions to be maintained.
Muhammad Khan did not go to the meeting. "Why should I meet with the heathens and spoil my piety," he said, "What do they know who Muhammad Khan, the Malik, is? So, let this brother who is my namesake go instead." At that moment, the mantle of Maliki went out of our family and clan to the clan of Barakhel. He must have deemed it a small price to pay, compared to the humiliation of compromise in adversity.
The loss of Maliki did not appear to bother his son Daulat Khan either. Daulat means wealth, and true to his name, he was the richest man in Topi, which made him the richest man in a wide, wide territory, as Topi is the center of all Yousafzais. 'Topi' means cap or 'turban', which in our land is a symbol of honor and respect. He once buried a fortune at his home, announcing that when found seven generations could live well off it, doing nothing else. It has not yet been found.
During holidays, in grade three or four, I decided to look for the treasure. Much to my Grandmother's dismay, I enthusiastically began digging at a randomly selected spot which wasn't too stony. When about half a foot deep, Grandmother's protests finally prevailed. Still, the hole was not a complete waste of effort. It was very close to my aunt's vegetable garden and she wanted some sort of fencing around it, to keep out the poultry and our two pet cranes. Firdaus Kaka, who has been serving the family since he was a young boy, enterprisingly used the hole for planting one of the fence posts. 'Kaka' in Pushto language, stands for 'uncle', and he is called so out of respect. He wears more than one hat, being my father's most trusted servant in the village, manager; and, (when required) gardener, cook, or farmer.
When I was around three, I had a terrible earache. In addition to being seen by a doctor, my Mother and Grandmother charged Firdaus Kaka to take me to the grave of a holy man. After a prayer, he anointed my ear with mustard oil taken from one of the small earthen lamps lying in the square niches of the gravestone. I am not superstitious at all, still the earache was gone.
Firdaus Kaka is also respected because, despite his position, he is a Pathan. His father came to Topi from a village close to the mountainous Mansehra. As the order goes in Topi, all Pathans, rich or poor, are equal. This equality however, is not extended to those who are not true Pathans, like the barbers, weavers, dancers, priests, cobblers, and ironsmiths. They have an identification by trade of their forefathers, even if they no longer practice it. Not that they are maligned, but somehow they are deemed unequal. Pathans are landed, and all these trades are beneath their dignity.
Around the time of Grandfather Muhammad Hayat Khan, for want of a direct heir, the Maliki was passed on to yet another family, related to the heirless Malik. Hayat Khan sued to get the title back. He did not succeed. It was unlikely that he would have reclaimed it, since amongst others, he had 'daggers drawn' against the British. He once tried to raise an army, complete with soldiers, officers and noncommissioned officers. In addition to the British, this did not bear well with my Grandmother and other ladies. You see, an army has to be fed, and this non-martial duty fell upon the women. Every day the army practiced their parade, played war, and ate. And every day the ladies and maids of the household arranged their meals.
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Most Helpful Customer Reviews
5.0 out of 5 stars
An Author of the Highest Integrity,
By A Customer
This review is from: Topi (Spiral-bound)
I am a personal friend of the author, and enjoyed her book very much. She is a medical doctor, and would never engineer good reviews as the next reviewer you will read suggests. To accuse without proof is folly. As far as I am concerned, Dr. Khan is a great story-teller and talented writer, whose point of view may not always agree with everyones, but is enlighteningly humorous. Her view of Pakistan lacks prejudice and I have many reports that it is an accurate picture of life in that country. Dr. Philip Petersen
4.0 out of 5 stars
Along the Khyber Pass,
By A Customer
This review is from: Topi (Spiral-bound)
This book has the seeds of something exceptional to come in the future. But bring a history of Pakistan before you read it. The stories are beautifully told, the black humor sounds like an American influence. It all weaves back and forth, needs some serious organizing. The author feels very strongly about his family and his country, and I appreciate that. And I hope to hear from him again before long.
5.0 out of 5 stars
Tragic & hilarious, at the same time. Couldn't put it down!,
By A Customer
This review is from: Topi (Spiral-bound)
This author does not waste words. Written with an infectious enthusiasm, it's just as well that the book was large in substance not size, because I had to read it cover to cover, in one sitting. The characters are vibrant and alive, some of their escapades left me rolling with laughter. Some incidents are poignantly tragic, making it a skillfully woven and balanced compilation.The backdrop is a tumultous time in India's history but fortunately, this book is not a history lesson. At a swift pace we are transferred from camel plodding, horse chargeing days to the present and some familiar figures are dealt with rather irreverently. I strongly recommend Topi . However, even though the content was great, I would have to deduct a point for the skimpy spiral bound cover. At the end of the book, I almost wished my plane was flying to Topi, Pakistan!
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