My first academic job was with the Institute of Development Studies at the University of Sussex in 1966 which I joined on a four year contract. While employed by the IDS my wife and I spent 15 months researching in a Punjab village (in 1968-69). My term at the IDS was to expire in 1970. 1 had planned to go back to Pakistan at the end of it, to set up an Institute of Peasant Studies in Pakistan which I had been promised. I informed the Director of the IDS accordingly. My post was advertised and someone appointed. Then came the Pakistan Military action in Bangladesh. I was traumatized. I could not return to Pakistan under the auspices of such a regime. The IDS managed to find funds for a three month extension for me while I tried to sort myself out. I was then invited to go to the Michigan State University as a Visiting Associate Professor and Director of an inter-disciplinary Pakistan Rural Development Research Workshop (which resulted in a book that I co-edited). I spent a few months there.

The day after I arrived at East Lansing (Michigan State University) in May 1971, I was telephoned by friends in the Department of Sociology at Queen's University at Kingston, Ontario. They were about to make an appointment when they learnt through the academic grapevine that I was around and available. They invited me to Kingston and put forward my name for the job. I was selected and in due course I got a formal letter from the Vice Chancellor appointing me as Professor. I might add that Khalid Bin Sayeed was not involved in any of this. He is in the Department of Politics and he was abroad on leave until September. He did not know of my appointment until I wrote to him in January. I applied for the Canadian Landed Immigrant Visa, giving them, as required, a full account of my political activities and affiliations. It took them three months to check that out. In December 1971, they informed me that my application had been approved. We were to go to Canada in July 1972, Surprisingly, in February 1972, my wife and I were summoned by the Canadian High Commission in London and this time we were both interviewed by their top intelligence man about my politics and beliefs. I was then informed that I was banned from entry into Canada. What made them have the second thoughts after they had already checked me out ? I wondered. Had there had been some intervention by someone in the meanwhile ? I am left to guess by whom and why ? On being told of the ban I notified the Sociology Department and also the Vice-Chancellor of Queens, accordingly. The Vice-Chancellor took up my case and eventually got the ban lifted. But by that time I found the idea of going to Canada quite offensive. Behind a facade of liberalism they had been quite vicious. I was even a bit flattered by the ban for I was in good company. Several of my friends, all distinguished scholars, had also been banned from Canada. One of them was my good friend, Istvan Meszaros, a distinguished Marxist philosopher, a colleague and personal friend of Georg Lukacs. Istvan was banned when he was appointed Professor at York University. Andre Gunder Frank, a friend since 1962 before he became a world-wide celebrity, was banned too. Gabriel Kolko, the distinguished historian of US imperialism, and a fellow member of the Editorial Board of the Journal of Contemporary Asia, was also banned. Sadly I

have never met him. Who knows how many more ? That is the hypocritical 'liberalism' and 'freedom of thought' of the 'Democratic West' --- empty slogans. McCarthy lives on. My ban became a 'cause celebre' in Canadian Universities. There were protests. But I was outraged to see that there was not a single word of protest, not even a private word of solidarity, from any of my prospective colleagues at Queens. Only a ringing silence. I was quite disgusted. What kind of people were they with whom I would have to work ? When the ban was eventually lifted I chose not to go there, The salary at Queens was 3 times what I got at Leeds. But that was no attraction. A living wage was enough. When I went to Montreal for a conference in 1974 some academics from Universite du Quebec a Montreal met me. They told me that when Prime Minister Trudeau visited their University he was questioned about my ban. Trudeau replied that the 'ban' was an administrative mix-up which had been reversed. He told them that it was my decision not to go to Canada after all. That was not his fault, he said. That was hypocritical.

The alternative to Canada was a Lecturer's job at Leeds which I was happy to take. I had friends there. Justin Grossman and now Ralph Miliband who had joined as Head of the Department of Politics. My wife and I had spent the New Year's eve at Ralph's house in London. I had told him that we were going to Queen's. Little did I know that I would join him at Leeds instead. It so happened that I had applied to Leeds earlier and Justin was able to reactivate my old application when the Canadian job fell through. After due process and interview I was appointed. My friends at Leeds gave me a warm welcome, but said that a Lectureship was all that was on offer. But that was fine with me.

A few weeks before my Leeds interview, I got an offer from Amsterdam that came out of the blue. It was an invitation from the University of Amsterdam to take up Prof. Wertheim's Chair at their 'Sociology - Social Anthropology Center'. Wertheim was retiring. I knew Wertheim, who is a scholar of international standing. To be invited to take over from him was itself quite an honor. They said that they had considered about 200 applicants and interviewed some, before they decided to invite me. I do not believe for a moment that the applicants did not include persons of great caliber, probably better qualified than myself. But I found that they were interested in having me because of the areas of my work in sociology and social anthropology (which ran parallel to Wertheim's interest) and the fact that I was a South Asian, which fitted in with their ideas of the direction in which they wanted the Center to develop its work. They wanted to move out of the colonial rut, such as their focus on Indonesia, and broaden their work, The last thing they wanted was another Indonesia specialist who was the next strongest candidate after me. They invited my wife and myself to go to Amsterdam for a week as guests of the Center so that we could see the place and make up our minds. Wertheim met us at the air terminal. He took me

to the Center where I met the gathered Appointment Board. We talked for one and an half hour. I realized that they were overwhelmingly for me. I did not know any of them personally, excepting for Prof. Wertheim himself. But they knew my work. Only two of the 15 members of the Appointments Board seemed to be hostile. And one senior Professor was non-committal. He did not yet know me. But we got to know each other during the week and he too came around strongly to support me, as he made clear. He even gave us a dinner party at his home. The job was mine. The appointments procedure for that senior Chair was elaborate. Recommendation from the Appointments Board would go to the Senate for ratification. Then it would go to the Ministry of Education. But I was also assured that once the Appointment Board had made its recommendation, which in this case was overwhelmingly in my favor, the rest of the procedure was a mere formality. The only time in their history, they wrote, when the recommendation of Appointments Board had been referred back was in 1947 when the Board had been evenly divided between the candidates. After we got back to London my wife expressed her unhappiness at the prospect of going to live in Amsterdam, although she did say that for my sake she would go anywhere. What would she do in Amsterdam, she asked. She had stood by me through thick and thin and I did not wish to build my career on the basis of her unhappiness. The job at Leeds would be attractive for us both. The Milibands had been our personal friends for years and my wife was comfortable with them. Miliband, for his part, strongly urged me to take the Amsterdam job. I decided on Leeds. The Amsterdam option was there, in case Leeds turned me down. I was in correspondence with friends in Amsterdam who pressed me to reconsider. It would have been the ultimate irony if I had to take that up, though. I wrote to Amsterdam withdrawing my candidature. I gave some lame excuses for my decision. They were not only upset---they were astonished. My friends at Amsterdam found it incomprehensible that I would prefer a mere Lectureship at Leeds to the distinguished Chair at Amsterdam. There followed a lot of correspondence and telephone calls. They thought that I had withdrawn because I was unsure of the Amsterdam job and was taking the Leeds job as a 'bird in hand'. They went to great lengths to assure me that the Amsterdam Chair was mine and that I should not worry about it. But I had decided and have never regretted that decision. I got the job at Leeds.

I moved to Manchester after five years at Leeds. I had thought that I would never leave Leeds. But my friends in Manchester 'twisted my arm' and persuaded me to go there. Things had changed in Leeds for Millband left for Brandeis University In America. Without him Leeds would not be the same. We had, between the two of us, enjoyed running an M.A. course which attracted excellent students. Without him, it would not be the same. So now Manchester was not a bad idea. In Manchester we had an excellent team in Sociology of Development with Peter Worsely, Teodor Shanin, Bryan Roberts, Ken Brown and myself. In a national survey we were rated as one of the best University Departments in Britain offering Sociology of Development. We attracted excellent research students. Teodor Shanin and I ran a lively seminar. I enjoyed being at

Manchester. My greatest regret is that I did not get good Pakistani students. My only good Pakistani student did a Ph.D. with me at Leeds---an excellent study of industrial workers at Karachi. At Manchester I had two Pakistani students about whom the less said the better. That is not much to show for a lifetime of work. My best students were from Latin America, South East Asia and one from Turkey.

Before I moved into an academic career in 1966, I spent 10 years in London in political activism, writing, lecturing and giving seminars at Universities. When I first came to London, I joined the LSE for a Ph.D. on Banking in Pakistan, which given my years of first hand involvement in building it up, I could have written blindfolded. But I was sick of that subject. And I was disenchanted by empty academicism. I found myself attending Sociology, social anthropology and political science seminars. I devoured a vast amount of literature. I was full of questions. What had happened to my country ? I studied and wrote. In those days there was nothing much to read about Pakistan, to discover what had gone wrong. So one had to study, analyze and write ! I founded and editedPakistan Today (1957-62) a quarterly journal. Each issue would have a substantial article that I wrote. We would bring out an issue as soon as there was a major development in Pakistan. After the Ayub Coup we came out six times a year. PT had a circulation of several hundred. The peak was about 1500 for our final issue which was wholly devoted to an article entitled The Burden of US Aid. Pakistan Today was sent to East and West Pakistan and clandestinely reproduced there or placed in libraries. The US Aid Issue was reprinted as a booklet by Faiz Ahmad Faiz . It was also reprinted in the US by a New Left journal called New University Thought and as a booklet by the Detroit Radical Education Project (who also reprinted some of my later articles in booklet form). Tariq Ali acknowledged it as a source in his first book. We got letters from sympathisers in Europe and North America. When there was total silence in Pakistan itself, it was a worthwhile thing to do. A lot of my time was invested in it. I became a political activist. My wife and I joined one or two like minded friends, notably Tassaduq Ahmad from Dacca and his wife. We worked amongst Pakistani students and workers very successfully from 1955 to 1966. We founded a number of organizations designed for activity at different levels. ThePakistan Youth League was a broad liberal to socialist forum. We met fortnightly and about 150 to 200 would turn up. Besides ourselves, speakers included scholars on the Left like Stuart Hall, Tony Benn and Eric Hobsbawm. The Pakistani Socialist Society was a smaller group. At a broader political level, soon after the Ayub Coup, we set up a Committee for the Restoration of Democracy in Pakistan. At an international level we ran a group called The Forumwhich brought together socialists, from Asia, Africa and Latin America, for a dialogue. It fell apart when Khruschev intervened in the Belgian Congo and our common ground of free and open, non-sectarian, debate with mutual respect, was gone. We were also active organizing Pakistani workers through twoPakistan Welfare Associations, one based in the East End of London (mainly Bengali) and the other in Slough (Punjabi). I was a founding member of CARD, the Campaign Against Racial Discrimination, a UKbased wide multi-racial Organization of Pakistanis, Indians, West Indians and White British, to join forces to fight the rising tide of racism. Some of us, so-called 'leaders' of black communities in Britain, were invited by Martin Luther King at his London hotel to talk about racism in

Britain, when he was on his way to receive his Nobel prize. We met not only Martin Luther King. We also met each other. We realized that there was much to be gained from joining forces against racism In Britain. So we met again and launched CARD. Dr. David Pitt, a West Indian member of the Greater London Council, who was an 'establishment' figure in the Labor Party, was elected Chairman. An Indian Maoist and a white American Trotskyite (both women) were elected Joint Secretaries. At CARD's first national convention I was elected Vice-Chairman. With David, I was a member of the National Council of the British Overseas Socialist Fellowship (Our Chairman was Fenner Brockway). A decade of political activism was exhilarating. But I could not keep it up for much longer for a number of reasons. There were too many problems, some of them personal. So far we had managed on a small income that my wife had from Tanzania. But that could not go on. I needed a job, an academic job, simply to live. I had also to think of making the best use of my time. Our political activities had turned into full time welfare work for immigrants. One would get telephone calls from Indian and Pakistanis friends whenever there was a problem, usually at the airport. One had to intervene. It was more than I could cope with. I could not go on like that. I decided to leave political activism and turn to full time academic work. So in 1966 1 joined the Institute of Development Studies at the University of Sussex.

I had come to London from Tanzania. I had gone there after resigning from the State Bank of Pakistan. I decided to take to farming ! There was an element of romantic escapism in that. Both my wife and I took it seriously. We spent a several months, at first, on a derelict farm in the Usumbara Mountains. We lived amongst local peasants (so-called 'tribal' people) which was great. But we did not seem to get anywhere when it came to farming. Realizing that it would take an expert to rehabilitate a derelict farm, I took a job on a modern farm near Arusha to learn how to farm. Unfortunately, while I was there I became ill with some peculiar kind of infection and was taken to Tanga where I was operated, unnecessarily as I was later told, by a drunken white surgeon (a character straight out of Hemingway !), After several weeks when my wound from the operation wound not heal, I was advised by a doctor to go to London and to get myself sorted out. I needed two operations and several weeks at the University College Hospital in London to put me together again. That was a time for reflection, which brought me back into the real world. We decided to stay in London. I would find my way into the academic world. But I was full of deep concern about what had happened to Pakistan. I was drawn instead into political activism, of which I have given an account above. I had gone to Tanzania having resigned from the State Bank of Pakistan. So let me say something about that, my first career.

I had joined the Reserve Bank of India in 1945 as a Research Officer on the recommendation of, indeed at the behest of my supervisor for Ph.D. at the Gokhale Institute at Poona. Prof. D. R. Gadgil had been asked by the Reserve Bank to recommend candidates for their research department. He asked me if I wanted the job. When I told him that my aim in life was to make a career in the academic world he said: 'Young man, you had better learn something about life before you start teaching'. He pointed out that my starting salary in the Reserve Bank would be

far higher than that of a University Lecturer. 'You can come back to the academic world at any time on your own terms'. So I joined the Reserve Bank of India in 1945. When the Partition was announced Governor Deshmukh called me and pointed out that too few Muslims officers had opted for Pakistan, The State Bank of Pakistan would have great problems without trained officers. It is interesting that a Maharashtrian Brahmin was so concerned whether the State Bank of Pakistan would be able to function properly or not. Why should he care? He pointed out that research was a luxury. The State Bank of Pakistan would need people who could do practical jobs. He suggested that I should get some training. So I was put on a program of intensive training in the Exchange Control Department. With the Partition I came home to Karachi. Technically we were to remain under the Reserve Bank of India until July when the State Bank would take over. But as soon as I found myself in a position to do so, in March 1948, I decided to take over, de facto and set up a headquarters for Exchange Control at Karachi which would give us time to build up our Organization well before the D-Day. Everything was in a state of chaos. We moved from crisis to crisis. Part of the problem was the clerical mentality of many of our senior colleagues (though with one or two brilliant exceptions-without them we would have been doomed). Most of the senior officers were twice my age. Their style of work and thinking had been shaped by long experience of serving virtually as clerks under White masters. The first concern of these glorified clerks was personal survival. As long as they acted in accordance with their precious manuals no one could hang them. They were petty bureaucrats and lacked the imagination to see what was at stake. They blocked innovation at every stage, which took up a lot of our energy when we tried to get things done. They had neither the will nor the ability to take responsibility. Mercifully, there were one or two brilliant exceptions to them. Thanks to them we survived. I flourished in that climate of successive crises. Looking back I realize that I had two assets. One was my ignorance. It was a blessing in disguise that I did not know the manuals backwards as my senior colleagues did. Those manuals were, in any case, out of date and had little relevance to our conditions. I realized that given our situation we will have to write our own manuals. I actually did just that in 1950 when I compiled the Exchange Control Manual for the guidance of Banks. Some of us were able to see things from a fresh perspective. Every time that a problem landed on my desk, I would work out a logical solution from first principles and act on it. We were constantly innovating and improving on old, out of date, systems. The exchange control system was set up in India in 1939 by a man called Cayley, a true colonialist. The system that he built up discriminated blatantly against Indian interests. Cayley had groomed his successor, a Parsee called Jeejeebhai who carried on in the same way. In Pakistan I realized that we would have to change Cayley's system radically, to end discrimination against our own banks and our own people. I had a great time discovering these and making changes. I was able to act with confidence as I enjoyed the full backing of our Ministry of Finance. I had great fun in a game of one-upmanship with Jeejeebhai, for technically I was still under him until July 1948. But I set up our own de facto independent Head Office, in advance of

the formal change. Jack Kennan who soon joined us as my boss, backed what I was doing. We went in for innovations that the Reserve Bank of India would, belatedly, copy. My other asset was sheer naivete. Unlike my petty bureaucratic colleagues, I assumed that my job was to get things done. I had not yet absorbed the bureaucratic ethos of first worrying about saving my skin and not acting unless I was covered by rules or sanction from a higher authority. Time was always of the essence. Once I had worked out what needed to be done I would go ahead and do it. I did not particularly worry about 'covering myself' by referring the matter to my superiors. In the situation in which we were at the time of Partition, we could not have survived otherwise. I soon acquired a reputation of being a 'trouble-shooter', a man to cope with crises. I had the confidence and backing of Governor Zahid Hussain and the Ministry of Finance. I could not have carried on like that without that backing. I rose rapidly in the Bank's hierarchy. By 1952 1 was appointed to the rather senior position of Secretary to the Central Board, i.e. one of five 'Principal Officers' of the Bank, who ranked after the governor and Deputy Governor. The job of Secretary to the Central Board, in those days, involved a lot more than what its name suggests and the work was too much for one person. The post was later bifurcated into two Executive Directorships. The name of Jamil Nishtar, who was one of them, will be familiar to Pakistanis. His was a political appointment. The other Executive Director, Naziruddin Mahmood, was a seasoned and competent banker.

Political pressures, especially from ministers to get things done for their friends, had always been a problem. I was able to resist them thanks to my boss, a remarkable Englishman named Jack Kennan, who took over as the Controller of Foreign Exchange. He was from the Lloyds Bank in London. I shared an office with him and learnt a lot from him. He was professionally very competent. Moreover, unlike Cayley, he was always prepared to consider what was in Pakistan's best interest rather than that of British Banks or companies. Equally important, he made it clear from the outset, to senior bureaucrats and Ministers, that no favors would be done to anyone. After an unsuccessful attempt or two, Ministers gave up trying to push him around. This was a man I could shelter behind. When Kennan left at the end of his contract, I lost my shield. I had also moved up to more responsible positions and there was no one behind whom I could now shelter. It was not easy. The situation became quite intolerable for me after I was sent to Dacca in 1951-52, with full powers in East Pakistan. I was based in Dacca but was also responsible for our other office at Chittagong where I would spend one week in every month. I was posted to Dacca on a few hours' notice. After we concluded an agreement with India in 1951, we had to introduce exchange control with India. This raised new and difficult problems and fears. East Pakistan had a very large informal trade with India, in fish and firewood, chicken and eggs, which was handled by enormous numbers of very small people and carried by country craft. The Government was afraid that any ham-fisted bureaucratic interference with that trade could create incalculable and terrible political repercussions. They needed someone who could be relied upon to take quick and sensible decisions on the spot and treat the small fishermen and farmers with understanding,

I had played a role in the negotiations with India. Immediately when they were concluded I had to prepare instructions for the Banks (for which I had contingency drafts already). It was a Sunday morning. Governor Zahid Hussain summoned me to his office. Mumtaz Hussain, Joint Secretary Finance, who was responsible for State Bank affairs in the Ministry, was with him. I told them that the circulars were ready and were being printed. The Banks would have them on Monday morning. Everything was under control. Zahid Hussain then told me that in that case I should catch the afternoon plane to Dacca and take up overall charge in East Pakistan. I was sent to Dacca at a few hours' notice. Zahid Hussain and Mumtaz Hussain told me about their worries about East Pakistan, of which I was already aware. Zahid Hussain gave me my marching orders saying that I would have complete responsibility and full powers in East Pakistan. It will be entirely up to you, he said. Mumtaz Hussain was more emphatic. 'Do what you think best. For God's sake do not refer anything to Karachi'. They knew that references to Karachi would mean delay and possibly trouble. It was a heavy burden of power for me to carry. After all I was as yet only in my late twenties, even if only just. No one had gone before to East Pakistan with such a carte blanche. It was to be expected that I would become the focus of attention. There were many interests who would want to exploit me. I would be courted and flattered. I had to be on my guard. Predictably, soon after I landed In Dacca, Ghulam Faruq, Chairman of the Jute Board, accompanied with his close friend Mirza Ahmad Ispahani (who controlled 30% of the Jute trade) called on me at my office to welcome me to East Pakistan. At first they indulged in predictable flattery. Ghulam Faruq was a powerful member of the bureaucracy, an old ICS man who later became a multi-millionaire industrialist ! As Chairman of the Jute Board, he said to me rather patronizingly: 'Young man, I am sure you know nothing about jute. Look at me. I am a seasoned old official. I have spent my entire career in Bengal. I still do not know anything about jute. Luckily we have amongst us Mr. Ispahani who knows everything there is to know about jute. Jute is in his blood. When I have any problem I consult him. It would be wise for you to do the same'. Ispahani wanted to have the State Bank in his hands, just as he had all other relevant departments of government under his thumb. It was the beginning of a long struggle. I was soon fighting a quixotic battle against two of the most powerful men in East Pakistan. It is a long story. I survived more by good luck than good sense. I seemed to win every round in our extra-ordinary contest. But it was a very tense period for me. I knew that if I made just one slip, they would have me hanged. Fortunately I had the backing of Governor Zahid Hussain though I do not think he knew just how the cards were stacked. It was all very stressful. For the first time I wondered about resigning from the Bank. My wife in fact suggested it. Not unreasonably she had long complained that I was 'married to the Bank'. Was this all worth it, she asked. While I was still thinking about resigning, I was appointed to the post of Secretary to the Central Board at Karachi, one of five 'Principal Officers'. of the Bank. It was sheer vanity that made me set aside thoughts of resigning. I wanted to hold that post, at least for a while. The promotion had come rather soon, though I was next in line for it. I half suspect that it was manipulated by powerful men to get me out of East Pakistan. I would not put it past them. My health was deteriorating from overwork. In May 1953 1 was finally allowed to go on leave. We went to Tanzania to spend time with my wife's family. It was there that, looking at everything in perspective and encouraged by my wife's brother who was like a father to her, I finally

decided to resign from the State Bank. The Bank was astounded by my resignation, for I had given no inkling of it and there was no immediate reason for it. Except perhaps for Governor Zahid Hussain. He had an almost fatherly affection for me. During our travels together we had opportunities to talk freely and from the heart. He knew that I had hankered after an academic life though he never thought that it was anymore a serious option for me. When I resigned he wrote to me a personal letter in which he said: 'I knew that you had inclinations for an academic career but I had formed the impression that having cast your lot in the Bank you did not feel that you could turn back and do something else. As you know I had the greatest regard for you and every confidence that you were destined for a big career in the Bank. You had in fact already reached a senior position in its service and with a large number of years before you, there was indeed no place beyond your reach.' However, Zahid Hussain seemed to have accepted the fact that my decision was final for he added that: 'It has been my innermost wish to do something in the educational field. ... When I do so I shall look forward to association with you which I will value'. Zahid Hussain was a passionate nationalist and could be regarded as an advance representative of Pakistan's nascent bourgeoisie. He was against an unconditional red carpet given to foreign capital and equally he was committed to land reforms. Later when we met In London in 1956 he spoke to me of his plan to set up a research Institute and three associated weekly journals modeled on the London Economist, published simultaneously in English, Urdu and Bengali which, he hoped, would generate in the country an understanding of our problems and generate support for independent national development. He said that he had already secured the needed financial backing for the project. He believed that it would lift political debate in the country to a new and higher level. Sadly he died of heart failure within days of our meeting, during his flight back to Pakistan. It was the Deputy Governor, however, who was in charge of the Establishment and had to deal with my resignation. He thought differently. He and the Central Board could not understand why I had decided to throw away my exceptional career. Given our careerist values, my decision did not seem to him to be rational, I suspect that the only explanation of my insane action that he could think of was that I had suffered some kind of a breakdown. After all I had worked under unrelenting pressure for 5 years without respite. He therefor got the Central Board to offer me, exceptionally, 9 months leave with full pay. He wrote to me: 'This is not the time to make plans for the future. You have been working very hard and under great pressure. Now is the time to rest a bit. 'You and your wife, have a good time and recover your health. There will be plenty of time to take big decisions after that.' He asked me not to decide about my future until the end of my leave. I was free to return or not to - there were no strings attached. It seems that they were sure that I was bound to go back to the Bank, once I had got back to my senses. No one who was already at the peak of his career at a young age, would do otherwise. Knowing that I had no wish to return, I felt that it would be unethical just to draw salary for the extra leave. So I wrote to the Bank telling them that as my decision was already final I would not take advantage of their generosity. So ended my first career.

School education: My grandfather, a businessman, was a dedicated educationalist. When he died the daily Dawn published a long obituary notice, describing him as 'Sir Syed Ahmad Khan of

Sindh'. He was an old Khilafatist who knew and greatly admired Dr. Ansari. He was committed to the education of the urban poor. He wanted his grandson to understand the way in which the urban poor live. I was sent to Municipal Primary Schools in Soldier Bazaar and (for some time) Khadda, where my class mates came from slum areas. It was good social education for a middle class boy. After that in the Karachi Academy High School I was put in the B stream where the bulk of the students again came from very poor backgrounds. I developed a social conscience and became a socialist before I ever heard the word. University: D.J. Sindh College, Karachi then Wadia College, Poona (B.A., Bombay University), Aligarh Muslim University (M.A.). Then, finally, the Gokhale Institute at Poona for Ph.D. At the Gokhale Institute I worked under Prof. D. R. Gadgil on whose suggestion (at whose behest I should rather say) I joined the Reserve Bank of India, Central Office, at Bombay as Research Officer.

Books Edited
South Asia - Sociology of Developing Societies (with John Harriss), Macmillan Press London Monthly Review Press New York, 1989 State and Ideology in the Middle East and Pakistan, (With Fred Halliday) Macmillan Press, London /Monthly Review Press, New York, 1988 Capitalism and Colonial Production (with Doug McEachem et. al.) Croom Helm, London 1983 Introduction to Sociology of the 'Developing Societies' (with Teodor Shanin) Macmillan Press, London/ Monthly Review Press, New York, 1982 Rural Development in Bangladesh and Pakistan (with R. Stevens and P. Bertocci) University of Hawaii Press, Honolulu, 1976

Sections of Books
1. 'The Two Biraderis- Kinship in Rural West Punjab' In T. N. Madan (ed) Muslim 2. 3. 4. 5.

Communities of South Asia, (second enlarged edition), New Delhi, 1995 'The Origin and Significance of the Pak-US Military Alliance' In Satish Kumar (ed) Indian foreign Policy, 1990-91, New Delhi, 1991 'Pakistani Women In a Changing Society' In Hastings Donnan & Pnina Werbner (eds), Economy and Culture in Pakistan, London 1991. 'Authoritarianism and Legitimation of State Power In Pakistan' In Subrata Mitra (ed) The Post-Colonial State in South Asia, (London and New York) 1990 'Formation of the Social Structure of South Asia Under the Impact of Colonialism' in Alavi & Harriss, Sociology of Developing Societies: South Asia, 1989

6. 'Politics of Ethnicity in India and Pakistan' in Alavi & Harriss, Sociology of

Developing Societies: South Asia 1989
7. 'Introduction' to Karl Kautsky, The Agrarian Question with Teodor Shanin , Zwan

Publications, London & Winchester Mass, 1988
8. 'Capitalism and the Peasantry' in Teodor Shanin (ed) Peasants and Peasant Societies

revised edition, Blackwells, Oxford, 1987
9. 'Pakistan and Islam: Ethnicity and Ideology' in Alavi & Halliday (eds) State and

Ideology in the Middle East, 1988 10. 'Ethnicity, Muslim Society and Pakistan Ideology' in Anita Weiss (ed) Islamic Reassertion in Pakistan' Syracuse University Press, Syracuse NY 1986 11. The Social origins of Pakistan and Islamic Ideology' in Kalim Bahadur (ed) South Asia in Transition, Patriot Publishers New Delhi, 1986 12. 'India: Transition from Feudalism to Colonial Capitalism' in Alavi et al Capitalism and Colonial Production 13. 'State and Class in Pakistan' in Hassan Gardezi & Jamil Rashid (eds) Pakistan: The Roots of Dictatorship, ZED Press, London 1963 14. 'Colonial and Post-Colonial Societies' 'Populism' 'Marxism and the Third World' in T.B. Bottomore et al (eds) A Dictionary of Marxist Thought Oxford, 1983 15. 'State and Class under Peripheral Capitalism' in Alavi & Shanin (eds), Introduction to Sociology of the 'Developing Societies' 16. 'The Structure of Peripheral Capitalism' in Alavi & Shanin (Des), Introduction to Sociology of the 'Developing' Societies' 17. 'Die Koloniale Transformation in Indien: Ruckschritt Vom Feudalismus Zum Kapitalismus' in Jan-Jeeren Grevemayer (ed) Traditionale Gessellschaften und Europaischer Kolonialismus, Frankfurt 1981 18. 'Indien und Die Koloniale Produktionweisse' in Dieter Senghaas (ed) Kapitalistiche Weltekonomie - Kontroversen uber ihre Ursprung und ihre Entwicklungsdynamik, Frankfurt 1979 19. 'The State In Post-Colonial Societies' in Harry Goulbourne (ed) Politics and the State in the Third World, Macmillan, London 1979 20. 'Kinship in West Punjab Villages' in T.N. Madan (ed) Muslim Societies in South Asia, Vikas Publications, New Delhi 1978 21. 'The Rural Elite and Agricultural Development in Pakistan' in Hamza Alavi, R. Stevens & Peter Bertocci (eds) Rural Development in Bangladesh and Pakistan, University of Hawaii Press, Hawaii, 1976 22. 'Armee et Bureaucratie Dans la Politique du Pakistan', in A. Abdel Malek (ed) L'Armee Dans La Nation SNED Alger, 1975 23. 'Pakistan' ,In Encyclopedia Britannica, 15th Edition 1974 24. 'Peasants and Revolution' in Joseph Lopreato & L.S. Lewis (eds) Social Stratification: A Reader, Harper & Row, New York, 1974 25. 'The State in Post-Colonial Societies' In Kathleen Gough & H. Sharma (eds), Imperialism and Revolution in South Asia, New York 1973 26. 'Peasants and Revolution' in Kathleen Gough & Hari Sharma (eds) Imperialism and Revolution in South Asia, New York, 1973 27. 'Peasent and Revolution' in A.R. Desai (ed) Rural Sociology in India, 1969

Articles in Journals
1. 'Politics of Ethnicity in Pakistan', Pakistan Progressive, Vol 9 No 1, Summer 1987

2. Material Foundations of Communalism in India' in Pakistan Progressive, vol 9 Nos. 2 &3 Fall 1988 3. Pakistan: Women in a Changing Society' in Economic and Political Weekly, June 25 1988, reprinted in Viewpoint Lahore November 1988 4. 'Structure of Colonial Social Formations' in Economic -and Political Weekly Vol XVI Nos 10-12, ANNUAL NUMBER 1981 5. 'India: Transition from Feudalism to Colonial Capitalism' in Journal of Contemporary Asia Vol 10, No 4, 1980 6. 'India and the Colonial Mode of Production' in o i. Economic and Political Weekly Special Number, August 1975 o ii. Socialist Register 1975, R. Miliband & J. Saville (eds) London 1975 7. 'Rural Bases of Power in South Asia' In Journal of Contemporary Asia Vol 4 No 4, 1974 8. 'Peasant Classes and Primordial Loyalties' In Journal of Peasant Studies Vol 1 No 1 Oct 1973 ( also published as a book in Spanish) 9. 'Elite Farmer Strategy and Regional Disparities in Pakistan' In o i. Pakistan Economist, Feb 1973, o ii. Economic and Political Weekly, Vol. VIII No 13, March 1973 10. 'The State in Post-Colonial Societies' in New Left Review No 74, 1972 11. ''L'Etat Dans les Societes Post-Coloniales'' in Les Temps Modernes, 1972 12. 'Lo Stato Nele Societa Post-Coloniali', Problema del Socialism, 1972 13. 'Kinship In West Punjab Villages' in Contributions to Indian Sociology, NS VI, 1972 14. 'Bangladesh and the Crisis of Pakistan' in o i. Journal of Contemporary Asia, Vol I No 3, 1971 o ii. Socialist Register 1971, R. Miliband & J. Saville (eds) 15. 'Politics of Dependence - A Village in West Punjab' in South Asian Review, Vol 4 No 2, Jan 1971 16. 'Constitutional Changes and Dynamics of Political Development in Pakistan' in Collected Papers on Post-Independence Constitutional Changes, Institute of Commonwealth Studies, London 1969 17. 'The Structure of the Agrarian Economy in West Pakistan and Development Strategy' in Pakistan Administrative Staff College Quarterly, 1968 18. 'Army and Bureaucracy in Pakistan' In o i. International Socialist Journal, Vol 3, No 14, 1966 o ii. Revue Internationale du Socialisme, April 1966 19. 'Peasants and Revolution' in o i. Socialist Register 1965, R. Millband & J. Saville (Des) o ii. French: Les temps Modernes, No 306, Jan 1972 (Paysans et Revolution) o iii. German: 'Theorie der Bauern-revolution, by Plakat Bauernverlag o iv. Spanish: Three translations from Argentina, Columbia and Mexico o v. Arabic and Persian translations. o vi. Book form, published by Radical Education Project, Ann Arbor, Mich. 20. 'Imperialism Old and New' in

i. Socialist Register 1964, R. Miliband & J. Saville (eds) ii. 'La Nouvel Imperialisme' in Les Temps Modernes 219-220, 1964 iii. Critica Marxista, No 2, 1965 ( Italian ) iv. translations in Japanese, Spanish, Portuguese, Arabic and Hebrew. 21. 'Pakistan: The Burden of U.S. Aid' in o New University Thought, Chicago, Autumn 1962 o Pakistan Today, Autumn 1961 o iii. published as a book by j4ew England Free Press, Boston, Mass. o iv. published as a book by Syed and Syed Publishers, Karachi 1965 o v. reprinted in R.I. Rhodes (ed) Imperialism and Underdevelopment 1970 22. 'Race Relations in Britain' in Afro-Asian and World Affairs, 1966 23. 'Pakistanis in Britain' in Sheila Patterson (ed) Immigrants in London 24. 'The Rise of Prejudice', Plebs, Special Issue on Immigration, Dec 1965 25. 'Nationhood and Communal violence in Pakistan' In Journal of Contemporary Asia, Vol 21, No. 2, 1991.
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