Zakir and violence.

Zakir does not once recall the violent events of the partition with any clarity or detail. Despite having experienced the ordeal of hijrat and being uprooted from his basti (a trauma he struggles to come to terms with throughout the rest of the novel), the violence of the partition does not live in Zakir’s memory nor is it a part of his consciousness. The reasons for this gap in Zakir’s memory are significant and deserve exploration. 

In contrast, Zakir visits various major violent events (fictitious or otherwise) with great lucidity. His graphic visitations of the War of Independence of 1857 are particularly striking. I believe that these visitations are symptomatic of Zakir having internalized the trauma of 1947 and are his method of dealing with the violence of the partition, something which traumatized him to the extent that he cannot confront it directly and manifests itself in his subconscious in the form of these visitations.

Sabira is homeless in the sense???

"Mein Pakistan Chali bhi jati to kia farq parta mein wahan bhi Akeli hoti"
Sabira lived in Delhi instead of going anywhere else(East or West Pakistan), it was because she was waiting for Zakir there.This girl was extremely in love with Zakir who had once asked her if she would go to Delhi with him if he gets a job there after completing his studies. It did not matter to her whether to live in Pakistan or India, the only thing she wanted was to live with him(Zakir).So according to me she was not homeless or in exile because she was far away from her home or her parents and family but she was homeless because she was not with Zakir.
                                   This can further be proved by these lines in the Novel
"Surrinder: Mujhy maloom hai keh hum jub bhi milty hain to do nahi hoty, teesra admi ghayeb ho ker wahan mojud hota hai. Shayad ab wo usi teesry admi ki khatir mujh se milti hai. Dhaka kay akhbarat ab zimni cheez hain"
And this 'Teesra Admi' is Zakir for sure,because of whom this poor girl is destroying her life in Delhi.

Maulana Sahib in Zakir's thoughts

Zakir may not be his father, but it is hard to ignore the fact that he remembers his father’s words throughout the narrative, and can feel their presence when he is trying to make sense of the turbulent times he lives in. Sometimes, it seems as if Zakir is like the Maulana Sahib in more ways than we, as readers, would like to think. I would go so far as to argue that Zakir’s conception of history, as it unfolds trance-like in the novel, is strongly influenced by his father’s religious beliefs, or, at the very least, runs parallel to them. Zakir’s encounter with Anisa is very telling in this regard. When she asks him to explain to her why Imperial has declined over the years, he gives her a lesson on Zawal instead. Her reply is amusing: “Ye to tum qaumon ke zawal ki baat karne lage ho. Mein Imperial ki baat kar rahee thee” But it is important, because it shows how Zakir thinks about progress in general. Interestingly, Abba Jan holds similar views. He is a sad man. Just before he dies, he says to Zakir and his mother: “…jab hee to Rabia Basry ne aisa jawaab dia tha. Kisi ne poocha ke aap ne duniya mein aa kar kya kia? Farmaia, afsos!” Even though he is a religious man who finds comfort in Islam in times of trouble, the Maulana Sahib is unable to account for everything. Khvajah Sahib, after the death of Zakir’s father, tells our protagonist: “Waise to Pakistan par waliyon ka saaya hai, par kabhi kabhi dar lagta hai. Pakistan pe koi aanch to nahin aae gi?...Kaka, yahi sawaal mein ne Maulana Sahib se kia tha. Har sawal ka jawab woh Ayat Hadith se detay they. Is sawaal pe chup ho gaye. Aise chup hue ke phir hamesha ke liye chup ho gaye” In my opinion, both father and son hold a very similar worldview. Zakir’s critique of society, Muslim society in particular, is analogous to his father beliefs pertaining to decline in morality of Muslim men and women (“Halaat ke behtar hone se kuch nahin hota. Amaal behtar hone chahiyen”). In my opinion, it is too much of a coincidence that Zakir seems to be echoing his father’s beliefs in different settings. There has to be a link between the two.      

Chabiyan

The meaning of basti keeps changing for Zakir in the novel. Land itself is treated as very unimportant but the significance of having roots in a specific area and the emotional effects of the  partition on different generations is highlighted using different symbols - one of which is the use of the key. First we see Ammi jaan asking for the keys to their old haweli back in rupnagar  ‘kothri ki chabi kho gaee tou ghazab hojaway ga’. For her they were important because of her engagement with things before partition. That haweli in Rupnagar and its belongings represented Muslim Shia history for them. The kafn ka kapra and the trays all were a part of who they were. When Aba jee is dying and he passes on the keys to Zakir, he does so while giving a speech on how yeh dunya eik ‘mehmaan khaana  hai’ . Keys are normally representative of control especially in the Pakistani context for example when the saas hands over the keys to the bahu to take care of the house. Similarly when handing over the keys Aba jee says ‘ nahi, humnay tou inhein zang nhi lagnay dia, agay zakir mian jaanein’. Later in the novel we see that Zakir doesn’t take care of the keys -  ‘yeh chabiyon ka ghucha isi tarah para hai’.  For him yeh  ‘baap dada ki amanat’ doesn’t hold any value because of something that Aba jee highlighted in his speech. Zakir was taking care of something jismein uska koi ‘haq’ nhi tha.  The 'Zang' of the keys that Aba jee talks about somehow mirrors Zakir’s passivity as how Zakir didn’t react to the partition, how he most probably will not go back to Rupnagar and how the keys and all that they represented will not be there in his life anymore.

meh.

*Warning - largely incoherent post*

“Meri yaad say alag apnay taur per maujood hai, apni yaad kay saath jiss main main zinda hun”

“Magar zamaana guzarta kahan hai. Guzara jaata hai per nahin guzarta. Aas paas mandlata rehta hai”

These lines stick out for me because they deal with a duality of existence where it both is and is not. In the earlier lines Zakir thinks about Sabirah, and how he had forgotten about her and yet she had persisted in existing outside of his memory, a fact he finds shocking and the second where time though gone by, still manages to exist as an entity of it’s own, the words “mandlata rehta hai” give it agency. For me this is interesting because of how Zakir’s memory has lessened the value of people and heightened that of time and historical events. I feel it is due to this that Zakir is unable to take action when an event takes place yet they significantly affect him in retrospective.  

Zakir as secular figure?

This is the last week's post, which I mailed Maryam.

Though Sabira is ultimate hero of the story however, Zakir’s role as a secular figure cannot be completely discounted. Zakir is breaking up with conventions. His role as a nonconformist, I feel, has been undermined due to his passivity. However, his thoughts and (some) actions show a dissenting pattern. He does not conform to the idea of Sharafat in his relationship with Anisah. He keeps thinking about Sabirah despite his mother’s attitude towards her.
Furthermore, he is alienated; he is not a part of the majority. Even some of his friends are rigid in terms of their views. For example, Salamat, along with many other people, has a clear, in fact an extreme, stance on war with India. On the other hand, at various points in the novel, the protagonist seems to be avoiding expressing his views on the matter. Clarity is an issue for him. At times, it seems through his tone that his voice has been silenced by the majority.

“I'm sitting in a cave. Outside stands the black night, with its jaws opened wide. Siren, whistles, the sound of dogs barking -- but human voices absent”
“Taking advantage of this silence, the dogs began to bark at nightfall…... At the same time the dogs began to bark with a new enthusiasm. It seemed that all the dogs in the city had suddenly jumped up with a start. The sound of whistles and the dogs' barking saturated his senses. As he lay in bed, it seemed to him that the whole atmosphere was full of that disgusting noise.”

The dogs, in the above mentioned lines, can also be interpreted as pointing to those people disrupting the peace. This can include many people including his war mongering friend Salamat. People close to him are in different ways making him feel isolated. I think this is the reason of his fear. Also, he does recognize his weakness:
 “I ought to preserve the record of my lies and my cowardice.”

Thoughts on basti

Basti  in my opinion is an existentialist novel. The novel, through Zakir, takes the reader through various events in history:  the 1857 War of Independence,  1947 Creation of Pakistan, the 1965 War between India and Pakistan and lastly the 1971 War. Zakir, the protagonist is a victim thrown passively in the torrents of the tumultuous history of Pakistan. The question of basti in this context becomes relevant. Why is then a novel about continuous Muslim struggle and conflict entitled Basti?

Basti literally means settlement or community. Unlike Dharti, it is not rooted in a particular place and is transient and temporal in nature. The question of Basti becomes relevant because the novel points at a larger narrative of Muslim homelessness and itinerant.

Throughout the novel Bast takes a peculiar form of existence which is forever changing. First, basti is the idyllic Utopia Zakir left behind in Rupnagar which is remembered in memory only. Then once in Lahore, after partition Zakir attempts to reach the same semblance of stability and purity he left behind in Rounagar. But this too is tainted by the events of the 1971 war. Amidst the 1971 war, in Lahore,  Zakir in his diary writes,

“I can do nothing else for this city, but I can pray, and I do pray. In my mind is a prayer for Rupnagar and its people as well, for I can no longer imagine Rupnagar apart from this city. Rupnagar and this city have merged together inside me, and become one town”.

This sense displacement and homelessness is not unique to Zakir but is reminiscent of the South Asian Muslim history. This passage is deeply ironic and critical because it recognizes that Muslims are in some ways still wandering because they have been uprooted from their dharti, lineage, history and family connection and most importantly separated from the part of the earth that once belonged to them as a consequence of partition in 1947 and the 1971 war. Basti then for Zakir and South Asians affected by the events of 1947 and 1971 is that which has been lost but is forever retained in our hearts. And therefore this loss becomes a part of our existence and in some ways our identity even. 

Amidst the larger narrative the novel also has a sub-narrative, the unrequited love story of Sabirah and Zakir. This is noteworthy because this subtlety in language in some ways confirms the larger narrative of the novel.  Zakir means, ‘he who remembers’ and Sabirah means, ‘patient or enduring’. The novel Basti is therefore a story of both remembrance and patience of the tragic past.  

Father/son relationship and mother's identity

Throughout the novel, there is a disconnection between fathers and their sons. In most of the instances,the fathers even fail to recognise such differences. Mostly, it is the sons who feel the gap and react to it. The conversation in Shiraz between Zakir's friends about their fathers shows great level of alienatioin their relations.
In the relation of Khawaja sahib and his sons, Khawaja sahib is cherry picking the son which fits as good in role as 'his' son. In that process, he is disowning Salamat, which leads to further alienation for Salamat.
Instead of engaging with their sons and bridging the gaps, the fathers are acting as figures of centralised authority. They are trying to make a certain identity for themselves which asks for obedience and is not vulnerable to emotions. Since the fathers are then taken as stronger member of the pair of  parents, the mothers are indirectly associated with weakness, and so the department of emotional engagement with the children is assigned to them. In the making of such identity for fathers, the role of mothers is also unconsciously defined.

Separation, Partition and Death.

The death of Aba jee symbolizes the two partition episodes discussed in this novel. The impact it leaves and the vacuum it creates in the life of people attached to Aba jee resonates with the impact of these partition episodes. We see Ama jee separated from Aba jee, who to some extent represented her last ‘basti’. This again highlights feelings of exile and separation which partition also created. We see both of these characters are exiled into different spaces; it is not only Ama jee who has to face the separation, rather Aba jee is forcefully exiled into a different space because of his death.

As a result of this event, the only reaction we get from Ama jee is of forceful acceptance of the circumstances. She is shocked, traumatized and eventually covers the cold body of Aba jee with a blanket. Her grief is only expressed through soundless crying. These are all signs of acceptance. There is no abrupt reaction to Aba jee’s death which shows that death, similar to partition affects one deeply but does not make one revolt against the reality of situation. Even Aba jee, before dying is not scared of his death. He accepts his separation from this world to another, by considering himself a ‘guest’ who has ‘no right on the land’.

We later discover the deep impact of Aba jee’s death on Zakir. He wanders off into the streets which are not a safe place to be at; he says prayers in random Mosques which are on high alert. Furthermore, he is not intimidated by the firing episodes we can hear in the background setting of the novel. He is ignorant of all the threats this could cause to his life.

Thus it can be argued that Hussain has shown the true impact partition causes on ones’ soul and mind through the death of Aba jee.

Zakir, Intizar hussain and Basti

For me, unlike other Partition literature, Basti avoids direct, graphic reportage on the psychological and physical violence inherent to Partition. The political chaos at one level is also interiorized by Zakir. There is, then, an intense feeling of alienation and emptiness that Zakir, as a migrant in a new country, feels. It should be remembered that Husain, now considered a torchbearer of progressive thought in Urdu language and literature, was never a firebrand revolutionary in the way that other luminaries in Urdu are known as. In fact, Zakir’s ambivalence towards politics and resistance is partly reflective of Intizar Sahib’s ideological moorings in the new discourse on jadeediyat or modernism.

Moreover, Zakir’s response to the 1971 war is also intriguing: “sometimes I have absolutely no idea where I am, in what place.” Deep down, Zakir’s fear of a permanent partition, an evergreen wound, becomes fortified with the events of 1971. Displacement, thus, turns into a permanent state of being. This is a feeling that is shared across cultures, if one thinks of the Afghan and Iranian émigrés, of the Congolese and the Rwandans, and so many other people disconnected by history from their “Bastis”. The compact canvas of the novel, as a result, becomes even more poignant.

The grand nature of Basti’s tale, therefore, grows on the reader; like an anti-hero, Basti weaves an epic and also challenges it from within by underlining the grains of nothingness in our everyday lives. Also the ending of the novel was very intriguing as for a moment it seems that it does not have a well-defined ending but when one goes deep into the previous events, no other ending seems very plausible, as it reinforces the melancholy mood and raises more questions about the emptiness of human existence.

also I was greatly influenced by the idea of Kabr (grave) in this novel also mentioned in detail by Mahsa in one of the blogs. the part where Abba jee and the mother are talking about the Kabr and the Kafan was very different in a way that even though they are explicitly talking about the death and the Kabr, but the things like Kahak e Shifa and the Kafan etc have got so much importance for them over the actual matters of death and Kabr and till the last moment abba jee hands out Zakir the rare and sacred things from his box which are extremely important to him. 

A Few Thoughts on the Death of Abba Jan

Private Death vs Public Death: Abba Jan’s death is portrayed as an intimate moment that occurs within the private confines of the home. His family is present around him as he departs, and he is fortunate enough to get a chance to say his good-byes. We associate the death itself with a degree of warmth as it contrasts strongly with the portrayal of war-time death that seems to be on-going in the background. The sirens, the firing, the riots, the panicked movement is ever-present and hence the possibility of an impersonal, anonymous, sudden and highly unpleasant death looms large. Amidst the possibility of such a death, Abba Jan is almost blessed with a serene death.

Political Death:  Ofcourse, had Abba Jan died in the circumstances of firing, airstrikes or so on, his death would have been inevitably be tied to the State. He would have been one of many labeled as war casualties. His very death would have been political. However, his death is not explicitly caused by any external circumstances but it is interesting to note how he is determined that his time has come to an end because political circumstances have stripped away everything significant to talk about – ‘’Ab acha zikr kon sa karnay kay liyay reh gaya hai. Dekh nahi rahi ho Pakistan main kiya ho raha hai.’’ In this sense his death is deeply political and in some ways – national.

The Shia-ness of Death: We also see that the death of Abba Jan is a deeply Shia affair. It is deeply symbolic how he hands a book of prayers compiled by Hazrat Sajjad to his son and wife. This is significant because Hazrat Sajjad was the surviving son of Imam Hussain after Karbala and is deeply regarded in the Shia tradition as a symbol of patience after death and mournful lament. The tokens from Najaf and Karbala are also both by his side before he dies. Moreover, he claims to see Hazrat Ali moments before his death. As per Shia tradition, Hazrat Ali comes to greet virtuous men at the time of their death.     

The Birds of Basti

   The chirya appears in some of the most poignant and emotionally significant passages in the course of the novel. Like the greek chorus, the birds in Basti are functionally important. Birds almost always evoke a nostalgic yearning for Rupnagar. Such is the effect of the Koyel’s song on Amijaan in chapter four -“sowi howi yaadon ko jaga diya”.  Surinder treats the birds of his hometown like estranged friends: “Chiryaan aur pair na pehchanain tou dukh hota hai, pehchaan lain tou tabiyat udaas hoti hai”. Zakir, on the other hand, is more comforted by the Koyel: “Koyel ki awaaz mere liye mehkma-e-bahaaliyat ka parwana ban gayi keh is ke baad mai is sher mai rasta basta chala gaya”.  The birds therefore are intimately associated with both memory and desire.

   One must not miss the more obvious bird symbolism that is at play- freedom and flight/movement which, curiously enough, are also some of the themes the novel is interested in. The partition and consequent move to Pakistan was a ‘flight’ that the characters in the novel were forced to take. Some took the flight, but yearned for their natural habitat (Abba jan, Khwaja Sahib) , some refused to move at all (Sabirah).  Freedom – be it from the self (Zakir) or from rigid social roles (Sabira)- is yet another theme in the novel which ties in well with the bird imagery that is to be found in abundance in Basti.

   In another sense, I feel as if the behavior of the birds reflect the political landscape in the story as it unfolds. Rupnagar is serene and magical, and the story begins with the music of an orchestra of birds “jab dunya nai nai thi…aur parindon ki awazon mai jag boltay thay” (bluejays, peacocks, woodpeckers, doves). This was a time characterized by perfect harmony.

   Afzal the dreamer loves the birds too, and notices when they are ‘pareshan’… “Yaar parinday bohut pareshan hain….bay maeeni tor par aasman pe chakar kattay hain’ - They are pareshan, we imagine, because of the conditions in the country. Later, while musing on the political situation, Zakir predicts that“Aik waqt ayega keh…parinday apni kab kab ki ki howi safed o seyah beeton kay beech aasoodgi ke saath betha karenge”.

   The novel then ends on an ambiguous, fearful and uncertain note; Afzal warns us to recognize the signs before it is too late, before the birds stop singing ‘is say pehlay ke… chiryaan chup hojayien’. As if the silence of the birds portend the silence of humanity itself. Indeed, given the particular use of bird references in the story chosen by the author, it just might be the case.

***

                                                         

(An interesting excerpt from an interview in which Hussain talks about his love for birds- excuse the Andy Warhol-esque quality of the video)

The novel:

In the very first lecture, we discussed Said’s critique of the novel as a genre, in which he argues that one of the problems is that the novel corroborates with culture. The short story, on the other hand, by its very nature does just the opposite. It is usually deeply ambiguous and often unresolved. It has the ability to locate itself in a particular disposition, a kind of homelessness even, making it a secular genre itself. We saw this in all the short stories we read which usually presented this idea through the figure of the woman, who is a deeply secular individual. Intezar Hussein’s Basti still manages to provide a secular critique through its various themes. Though it does tend to keep with cultural norms, I thought that it still managed to provide an effective exploration of the concept of the secular, given that its protagonist was deeply embroiled in a kind of ambiguity through his feeling of exile.  Also, there is the idea that the notion of a Basti turns out to be almost counter-intuitive because it doesn't imply a settlement in the geographical sense but rather is more of an abstract notion linked to one’s identity. This novel ends with no clear resolution for Zakir and that in itself says something about what this novel achieves in the realm of the secular.

The generation gap:

The relationship between the fathers and sons in Basti is symbolic of the larger looming issues of displacement and exile. After the partition, the tumult and disorder of their displacement serves to wedge a greater gap between them ideologically. It’s almost like they are on completely separate planes, neither understands or even hears the other. The fathers are stuck in an idyllic past, completely incapable of coming to terms with the new state of affairs. Where they had previously been active patriarchs, they now acquire very passive identities within the domestic sphere. There is a marked decrease in the extent of the authority that they are able to exert. Zakir’s father, in particular, loses all agency and resorts to religion as a means of solace. His constant references from the Quran, which are quite esoteric in a sense, only serve to alienate him further away from Zakir. At the same time, Zakir begins to regard his father (and his sayings) dismissively. In this way, their entire relationship loses the kind of essence it had before. Intezar Hussein seems to be pointing at the fact that just as their physical inhabited space loses significance after they move away from Roopnagar, so do their relationships.

Basti and Basharat

The last chapter is noisy and eventually ends in a silence that is waiting on a sign, a signal, an 'Ilham', a good news - Basharat. Given that the novel was deeply affected by history literally and the character through whom we see it-  is a historian whose past is the only outlook we have, his silence in the end is not only symoblic of an end of nostalgia but represents the futility of time and the blur of the future.  From the scenes where the three friends sat in Shiraz and discussed art and literature, to the time that they heard the white haired man’s ‘dastan’ over tea, to the time that Shiraz was razed down – Notice that the story itself , as we progress, becomes history; chapter by chapter. And we close on a hope that some sort future will be defined by a ‘basharat’. Why does Intizar Hussain not appropriate a resolution at the end? Is it problematic?

The larger ideas of construction of cities and countries and their eventual destruction to attain settlement is not in itself quite a peaceful or romantic resolution. Zakir, Afzal and Irfan sit outside Shiraz on the deserted roads, look over the consequences of riots. There is talk of failure as a citizen and Afzal insists he label them  'Zalim'. The question I'm addressing is whether your idyllic past is in any way hindering you to define the present on its own terms. Does Zakir still not remember only Sabirah in that setting? Isn’t then present then holding on to the elements of the past just so that it could have some command or agency over the future?

"Yar," he said to Irfan, "I want to write her a letter."

"Now?" Irfan stared into his face.

"Yes, now."

"Now when -- " There was no telling what Irfan had wanted to say; in the midst of his sentence he fell silent.

"Yes, now when -- " He paused in the midst of his sentence, then took a different tack. "Before -- " Confused, he fell silent.

Before -- he tried to get it clear in his mind -- before -- before the parting of her hair fills with silver, and the birds fall silent, and before the keys rust, and the doors of the streets are shut -- and before the silver cord is loosed, and the golden bowl is shattered, and the pitcher is broken at the well, and the sandalwood tree, and the snake in the ocean, and --

"Why are you silent?" Irfan was gazing steadily at him.

"Silence." Afzal, placing a finger on his lips, signalled Irfan to be silent. "I think we will see a sign."

"A sign? What sign can there be now?"Irfan said with bitterness and despair.

"Fellow, signs always come at just these times, when all around -- " he paused in the middle of his speech. Then he said in a whisper, "This is the time for a sign -- "

Sabirah is the Roopnagar that Zakir knows. Then his memory is the sub naarative that reconnects time and again with the present narrative and in his thoughts, Zakir addresses this realsition on how the ‘guzra zamana’ never leaves. He says ‘Us ghar ki, aur us zamin ki Roopnagar ki chabiyan. Chabiyan yahan meray paas hain and wahan pura aik zamana band hai, guzra zamana. Magar zamana guzarta kahan hai. Guzar jata hai per nahin guzarta.’ In the light of these lines, the zamana is not only glorified and longed for, the line ‘Wahan aik pura zamana band hai’ reflect deeply on the upcoming basharat which will let Zakir knock back to history with his letter. ‘Basharat’ then comes out of hoplessness, unsetlled settlements and escapist and surreal lines like ‘Yeh basharat ka waqt hai’ to the juxtaposition of the novel versus history and memory. In the last scene I was left thinking if they were past the crisis or they were amidst it? It is definite that this will become the ‘qissa’ Zakir usually thinks about ‘Yeh kahan kahan ki baat and kab kab key qissay’. History in the end is being constructed. And the connection between cities, memory, Sabirah, the letter, and the novel become evident all. The resounding silence and Afzal’s last lines are remarkable and leave us with questions on what this Basti really is. Certainly with the past which Zakir thinks is a better choice, how embracing is the present? If India is the ‘Dharti’ – One that is all including and nurturing; Pakistan then is the  ‘Basti’ –One that is an unsettled settlement whose roots lie in the Indian soil, Zakir’s memory and is largely ‘bey araam’

“Zakir! Meri Kabr Teri Kabr Se Achi Hai.”

The word “Kabr” has been repeatedly used throughout the novel, Basti. Kabr also seems to hold special importance in the eyes of all Muslims. The very first time we hear Kabr, is from a child’s mouth, Zakir in Rubnagar.

"What is it?"
        "A grave." He answered casually, without looking toward Sabirah.
        "It's a grave?" Sabirah asked in surprise.
        "Yes."
        She regarded the grave with wonder. Then she spoke with a kind of warmth in her tone. "Zakir, make me a grave too."
        "Make it yourself," he answered shortly. 

Sabirah gave herself airs at her success, and glanced at his grave, then looked at her own. "My grave is better." 

I feel like this sentence “my grave is better” is symbolic towards all the conversations and thoughts about the peaceful graves with leafy trees shading graves of Muslims in India versus the not so pleasant and shady graves in Pakistan. The sentence “my grave is better” itself is said by a character (Sabirah) who will continue to live in India even after partition hence making it more significant. This idea of better graves in India is mentioned several times by different characters in the novel. For instance, Surrendar’s chat with Hakim-ji (Surrendar’s 1^st letter to Zakir):

In Vyaspur that Hakim-ji from the big house, you remember? -- his whole family went off to Pakistan. He stayed in his same place, and continued to take sick people's pulses. I asked him, "Hakim-ji, you didn't go to Pakistan?"
        "No, young man."
        "And the reason?"
        "Young man! You ask for the reason? Have you seen our graveyard?"
        "No."
        "Just go sometime and take a look. Each tree is leafier than the next. How could my grave have such shade in Pakistan?" 

Hakim-ji is at peace with his decision of staying back in India since he will end up having a nice grave however Maulana Sahib, Zakir’s father is seen lamenting over the fact that he has moved to Pakistan where no arrangement for his grave has been made. He had CHOSEN his grave in India and had made all arrangements for his burial but now in Pakistan there were none. Amma is also worried about what will happen:

"Oh, this is just the anxiety that eats at my heart, how will our deaths be!" Ammi said worriedly. "Our lives have passed somehow or other, but for death a hundred arrangements have to be made." 

The idea of not being buried in India is pretty distressful for these elderly characters.   Even after Maulana Sahib’s death and burial, I feel he is not pleased with where he has been buried. As it is mentioned at the end by Khvajah Sahib:

 "Son, last night I saw the Maulana Sahib in a dream. He was somewhat disturbed. I was concerned about the reason. Early in the morning I went to the cemetery. I read the Fatihah over his grave. The earth around his grave has subsided, you must arrange to have it filled up." 

Thus, Sabirah will be buried in a pleasant kabr like Hakim-ji but Zakir’s kabr  will not be “better” than Sabirah’s. “Zakir! Meri Kabr Teri Kabr Se Achi Hai.”

(Translation of Basti: Frances W. Pritchett)  

Why Sabirah Chose Delhi?

Sabirah's trip to Vyaspur to meet Zakir’s family:

What a long train it was, car after car. Which train was it?"
        "The Delhi train."
        She was amazed. "This train goes to Delhi!"
        "Yes, of course."
        She was silent for a little. "Zakir, you must have seen Delhi? What's it like, Delhi?"
        "I've only gone once, but after my exams, I'll go there to live."
        "Really! How?" She was astonished.
        "I'll go there and work."
        "Really?"
        Night was falling. The moon had not yet come out. But there were a few stars, twinkling like distant lamps in the expanse of the sky. I looked steadily at Sabirah's wondering face.
        "Sabirah!"
        "Huh?"
        "Sabirah, if I should get a job in Delhi then -- then -- " My tongue began to stumble. "Then -- we two can live together there." 

THIS is the passage I feel is the reason why Sabirah chose to stay in Delhi out of all the other places (Dhaka or Lahore). This fake promise made by Zakir is the reason poor Sabirah wasted her life in Delhi. She had hope that he would come after her hence she stayed strong throughout the novel but in the end when she realizes Zakir [FINALLY] has written letters to Surrendar which are concerned to know about her mother but not her, she breaks.

“I mentioned your letters to her. She said nothing, she burst into tears. I was astonished. During those days when the worst news kept coming from Dhaka, I always found her calm. But today she burst into tears.”

This sudden outburst points towards only one person and that is Zakir. He is the reason why she wears white sari and dresses like a widow. Even Surrendar recognizes the cause of Sabirah’s tears:

“My friend! May I say one thing? Don't take it amiss. You're a cruel person, or perhaps now that you're in Pakistan you've become so.”

But Zakir is just so slow and senseless. He still doesn’t comprehend anything written by Surrendar. He sits there asking himself “oh, Am I cruel?”

…Like Wow!!! Such a flat character.