Beyond abandoned pre-Partition buildings, along Nisbat Road and in the main Bansawala Bazaar, a narrow lane branches out into even narrower, rough pathways that lead to the locality called Saraye Ratan Chand. A community playground — that once served as a holy pond for Hindus before Partition — is brimming with activity on August 14. Rehearsals are under way for the variety show that the residents will hold in the evening. The many temples that once dotted the locality were destroyed after the demolition of the Babri Mosque in India.

Adjacent to the ground, unpaved trails — each only a couple of feet-wide — lead to a small open air compound in the middle of which are cement tubs filled with murky, soapy water; around these tubs is stagnant sewerage water that paints a picture of neglect towards this area. This is a washing area surrounded with small rooms that have now been extended vertically as families here expanded. This is possibly the last remaining dhobi ghat in Lahore. 

There were said to have been at least three such dhobi ghats in the city that would come alive at the break of dawn, with dozens of families congregating at a point with bundles of various articles of clothing, scrubbing them and slapping them against cement tubs. The dhobi ghat of Saraye Ratan Chand has lost the decades-old hustle bustle and is saved by what is possibly the last generation of washermen. 

The remaining washermen of Saraye Ratan Chand in Lahore have more memories than workload

A property of the Auqaf department, this ghat was populated and run by Hindus living in the area. The nearly 10 to 15 Urdu-speaking families living in these quarters now — all related to each other — have kept this open laundry facility functional since Partition, when they were forced to migrate from India to escape massacres. The community elders here still recount the horrors of what they witnessed first-hand. 

The sixth and possibly the last generation is currently involved in washing clothes en masse, though only the middle-aged men and their elderly parents are engaged in the same family profession. Abid Hussain, a short washer in his 40s, with pants rolled up to the knees, is fixing the washing machine plug in between laundry. He says they don’t make money out of the manual laundry anymore, and the clothes they wash are mostly their own.

“Eighty percent of washermen in the city have given up this work, as laundry has now moved to huge plants and machines,” Hussain says. “There’s barely any earning in this profession now. People prefer paying 200 rupees to shops in Gulberg and Defence, but not 50 rupees to us. Even our current generation did not take up the ancestral profession; they’re all educated now and have jobs or other businesses,” he adds.

“There’s a huge difference between hand-washing and machine laundry: manually washed clothes last longer, while those washed in machines wear out quickly.” 

“Ninety percent of our family was in Delhi before the Partition and the remaining here in Lahore’s Paisa Akhbar area,” Hussain tells Eos. “Some of my relatives are still in India and visited us about five months ago.” Abid’s father, Abdul Mateen, 78, recounts his journey from India to Pakistan. “After fleeing India in 1947, I stayed here for a couple of months then went back [to India] with my grandfather. We returned in the early 1950s with our passports. We brought some cash and jewellery with us that we sold. It lasted us a good six months. Later, we made this space functional because laundry is all we knew; we were washermen in India also, so decided to continue here.”

Eighty percent of washermen in the city have given up this work, as laundry has now moved to huge plants and machines,” Hussain says. “There’s barely any earning in this profession now.”

Mateen has fond memories of his life in Delhi, and remembers living in a community of four closely-knit Hindu and Muslim families associated with separate businesses near Masjid Shah Gul. “Partition brought bloodshed; Sikhs massacred the most,” he says. “Had we stayed back, we wouldn’t be alive today. After arriving at these quarters, we would lock ourselves up at night. We saw boxes of spices and utensils left behind by Hindus, but we didn’t touch them out of fear.” 

A few quarters away, lives 102-year-old Salamat Bibi, who has all but lost her memory. All she remembers is a few names. Her son, Muhammad Saeed, 64, did not take up the family profession of washing; instead he chose to teach. A diehard jiyala, Saeed claims to have been jailed when he was 11, along with some political workers charged with anti-Ayub conspiracies. “My grandfather was a government servant in pre-Partition India. My father worked for a private company of a Briton who worked for the British government. At least five years after moving to Pakistan my father got into washing business in 1947 with the rest of the family here,” he says.

Saeed’s aunt, 80-year-old Allah Wali, is sitting outside on a cement slab where clothes are washed. She doesn’t seem too happy about Independence Day, which is when I met her, saying it holds no value for the thousands who lost their entire families due to Partition. 

“I didn’t want to come here, but had to. [In Delhi], we lived in a Jaat Mohalla near Saddar Bazaar, along with really nice Hindu people who told us not to leave. They said they’ll protect us, but we thought if everyone was being killed, we would be too.” 

She remembers that her grandfather and father’s elder brother found this dhobi ghat, settled here and continued their family profession. “Initially, we lived off the jewellery we brought and then started working as washers.”

“I’ve been to India a couple of times,” she says, “and saw a completely different Delhi. There’s so much development that we Muslims couldn’t do here. We still have many relatives there living peacefully in Hindu localities.”

Talking about the new generation and changing trends, Mateen says, “My grandchildren help us out at times, though this is not our source of income anymore. At one point, everyone was washing clothes. There were four wells from where women of our families fetched water in buckets that we used to wash clothes with. I remember waking up at 2am to start preparing for the laundry. Now things have eased [because of machines] and our job has become almost redundant so we start after Fajr prayers,” he says. 

Saeed, on the other hand, feels a washerman will and can never be out of work despite the advanced technology. “The job has eased, no doubt, and the earnings have reduced, but washermen are working along with machines. The younger generation has not taken it up because such jobs aren’t really considered respectable in society,” he says.

From top-left: A rooftop view of the ghat; Abid Hussain (a sixth-generation dhobi); A dhobi at work; Women help iron clothes inside their homes after the wash; Allah Wali shares her stories of Partition; Park Saraye Ratan Chand, now named as Azad Park, is used as a community ground for various activies; A street leading to Azad Park; Abdul Mateen at work

Published in Dawn, EOS, August 26th, 2018

Opinion

Editorial

‘Source of terror’
Updated 29 Mar, 2024

‘Source of terror’

It is clear that going after militant groups inside Afghanistan unilaterally presents its own set of difficulties.
Chipping in
29 Mar, 2024

Chipping in

FEDERAL infrastructure development schemes are located in the provinces. Most such projects — for instance,...
Toxic emitters
29 Mar, 2024

Toxic emitters

IT is concerning to note that dozens of industries have been violating environmental laws in and around Islamabad....
Judiciary’s SOS
Updated 28 Mar, 2024

Judiciary’s SOS

The ball is now in CJP Isa’s court, and he will feel pressure to take action.
Data protection
28 Mar, 2024

Data protection

WHAT do we want? Data protection laws. When do we want them? Immediately. Without delay, if we are to prevent ...
Selling humans
28 Mar, 2024

Selling humans

HUMAN traders feed off economic distress; they peddle promises of a better life to the impoverished who, mired in...