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Modern Asian Studies () page  of . © The Author(s) .
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doi:./SX
Language Shift and Identity Reproduction among

Diaspora Sindhis in India and Southeast Asia
M AT T H E W A . CO O K
North Carolina Central University

Email: matthew.alain.cook@gmail.com
M AYA K H E M L A N I D AV I D
University of Malaya
Email: mayadavid@yahoo.com
Abstract
This article examines the relationship between language shift and identity among
diaspora Sindhis in India and Southeast Asia. It focuses on questions concerning
how members of this community reproduce identity through language shift. The
first part of the article describes identity and language shift among diaspora
Sindhis in post-partition India. It argues that language shift facilitates the
reproduction of core cultural modalities among diaspora Sindhis. The second part
describes the history of diaspora Sindhis in Southeast Asia and analyses language
shift. It contends that language shift enables diaspora Sindhis to suspend a
connection between mother-tongue proficiency and identity. The article concludes
by discussing how the diaspora Sindhi experience retunes the interval that
conventionally connects language shift to cultural change.
Introduction
Topandas, the protagonist of Gobind Malhi’s Sindhi short story The

Refugee, disliked his name: given by his widowed mother, it meant
‘devotee with a pierced nose’. It bothered Topandas that nobody in his
village used his full name. Like his mother, people generally shortened
his name to ‘Topu’ or ‘Topa’. Fatherless and poor, Topandas interpreted
the general use of these familial nicknames as disrespectful. Topandas
greatly wanted people to call him respectfully by his full name. It was
only after partition, when Topandas fled Sindh for India, that he first
heard people call him by his full name. Unfortunately, now he was a
partition refugee and the sound of his full name brought him no joy.

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 M A T T H E W A . C O O K A N D M A Y A K H E M L A N I D AV I D
As for Topandas, life in India initially brought little joy for Sindh’s
partition refugees.1 For these diaspora Sindhis, it is common to interpret
partition as a ‘critical event’ marked by cultural trauma.2 Veena Das
describes such events as historically instituting new modalities of identity.3
While critical events drive identity shifts, Das maintains that such changes
are not part of the ‘inventory’ that initially propels a historical
experience. For diaspora Sindhis, language shift was a result, rather than
a factor, that drove them to leave Pakistan after partition. This shift from
a mother tongue to other languages should not be interpreted (as many
diaspora Sindhis do) as leading to a loss of identity.
This article examines the relationship between language shift and identity
among diaspora Sindhis in India and Southeast Asia. Language and identity
are inextricably related. In diaspora studies, language-shift research
addresses how demographics, institutional support, mother-tongue loyalty,
and ethnolinguistic vitality contribute to whether communities discard or
preserve their languages.4 Christina Bratt Paulston, in Linguistic Minorities in
Multilingual Settings, argues that such factors are vital to understanding how
language helps to construct identity.5 However, Paulston (like many other
scholars) does not ask questions about how language shift can reproduce,
rather than change, identity.
Through the looking glass of diaspora Sindhis, this article focuses on
questions about how this community reproduces identity through
language shift. The first part describes identity and language shift
among diaspora Sindhis in post-partition India.6 It argues that this
1
Mohan Kalpana’s Jalavatni (New Delhi: Sindhi Academy, ) and Hari Motwani’s
Ajho (New Delhi: Sindhu Dhara Publications, ) describe this lack of joy.
2
Ananya Jahnara Kabir, ‘Gender, Memory, Trauma: Women’s Novels on the Partition
of India’, Comparative Studies of South Asia, Africa, and the Middle East .: p. . This type of
trauma involves a ‘dramatic loss of identity and meaning, a tear in the social fabric,
affecting a group of people that has achieved some degree of cohesion’ (Ron Eyerson,
Cultural Trauma: Slavery and the Formation of African American Identity (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, ), p. ).
3
Veena Das, Critical Events: An Anthropological Perspective on Contemporary India (New York:
Oxford University Press, ), p. .
4
Florian Coulmas, Sociolinguistics: The Study of Speakers’ Choices (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, ).
5
Christina Bratt Paulston, Linguistic Minorities in Multilingual Settings (Amsterdam: John
Benjamins Publishing Company, ).
6
This article uses the term ‘diaspora Sindhis’ for people who are commonly called
‘Hindu Sindhis’. Since the latter designation overly simplifies and communalizes this
community’s spiritual life, we use the former term. For details about the spiritual life of
LANGUAGE SHIFT AND IDENTITY REPRODUCTION 
group’s identity propelled language shift (as well as intra-community
debates about it). It also contends that language shift facilitates the
reproduction of cultural modalities within this community. The second
part of the article describes the history of diaspora Sindhis in Southeast
Asia and analyses language shift. It argues that language shift enables
diaspora Sindhis to suspend a connection between mother-tongue
proficiency and identity. We maintain that this suspension, in
conjunction with other factors, helps Southeast Asian diaspora Sindhis
to reproduce a core cultural modality. The article concludes with
remarks about how the diaspora Sindhi experience retunes the interval
that conventionally connects language shift to cultural change.
Identity, history, and language among diaspora Sindhis

in India
Before partition in , non-Muslims constituted a significant part of

Sindh’s population. They were at least  per cent of the people in
southern Sindh,  per cent in central Sindh, and  per cent in
northern Sindh.7 The majority of these people were urban: Karachi
was no less than  per cent non-Muslim, Hyderabad  per cent, and
Shikarpur  per cent.8 Most non-Muslims belonged to one of several
groups: the Amils, Sahitis, Bhaibands, Bhagnaris, or Chhapru.9
Hierarchically arranged by occupation, these groups were part of a
broader community: the Lohana.10 The Lohana were  per cent of
the non-Muslim population in southern Sindh,  per cent in central
diaspora Sindhis, see Steven Ramey, Hindu, Sufi, or Sikh: Contested Practices and Identifications of
Sindhi Hindus in India and Beyond (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, ).
7
Mark-Anthony Falzon reports: , Hindus lived in the Karachi District, ,
Hindus lived in the Hyderabad District, and , Hindus lived in the Shikarpur
District (Mark-Anthony Falzon, Cosmopolitan Connections: The Sindhi Diaspora, –
(Leiden and Boston: Brill, ), p. ). He also reports that Hindus constituted  per
cent of the population in the Thar and Parker (namely ,) and  per cent (namely
,) of the people in the Upper Sindh Frontier.
8
Ibid., p. .
9
Ibid., p. .
10
Jyoti Panjwani, ‘Introduction’, in Jyoti Panjwani (ed.), The Pages of My Life:
Autobiography and Selected Stories of Popati Hiranandani (Delhi and London: Oxford
University Press, ), p. xxxv. Amils and Sahitis, who held administrative positions in
precolonial and colonial Sindh, had higher status than merchants and traders (namely
Bhaibands, Bhagnaris, and Chhaprus).
 M A T T H E W A . C O O K A N D M A Y A K H E M L A N I D AV I D
Sindh, and  per cent in northern Sindh.11 Like other non-Muslims in

Sindh, the Lohana were disproportionally urban. They represented 
per cent of the non-Muslim population in Hyderabad,  per cent in
Karachi, and  per cent in Shikarpur.
The dominant groups among the Lohana were the Amils and
Bhaibands. Amils—hereditary government administrators in colonial
and precolonial Sindh—‘wielded a measure of prestige and
considerable political clout’.12 Amils were the most prestigious Lohana
group but were frequently poorer than Bhaibands. The Bhaiband, or
‘brotherhood’, were businessmen and moneylenders.13 Regardless of
group, the Lohana were spiritual eclectics who worshipped at Sikh
gurudwaras as well as Sufi shrines, and did not regularly employ
Brahmins for rituals. After partition, these eclectic habits resulted in
increased hostility toward them on the part of Muslims in Pakistan.14
This hostility was a significant factor in turning the Lohanas into
partition refugees after .
Life in India was initially hard for Sindh’s partition refugees. Indians
did not receive Sindhis well.15 In ‘Alienation, Displacement, and Home
in Mohan Kalpana’s Jalavatni’, Trisha Lalchandani argues that a lack
of a regional-linguistic identity within India after partition accounts for
this poor reception. She cites an exchange between Mohan, the
protagonist in Jalavatni, and a non-Sindhi refugee officer: ‘You [Sindhis]
are neither in Hindustan nor in Pakistan [the Bombay administrative
officer stated to Mohan]. You are a refugee—refugee! Here you have
neither mulk (homeland), nor home. You are the washerman’s dog who
11
In the Karachi District, the Lohana population was ,. In the Hyderabad
District, it was ,. In the Shikarpur District, the community numbered ,. In
Thar and Parker, the Lohana numbered ,. In the Upper Sindh Frontier, the
population was , (Falzon, Cosmopolitan Connections, p. ).
12
Ibid., p. .
13
Panjwani, ‘Introduction’, pp. xix, xviii.
14
Michel Boivin, Matthew A. Cook, and Julien Levesque, ‘Introduction’, in Michel
Boivin, Matthew A. Cook, and Julien Levesque (eds.), Discovering Sindh’s Past: Selections
from the Journal of the Sindh Historical Society, – (Karachi and London: Oxford
University Press, ), pp. –.
15
Priya Kumar and Rita Kothari, ‘Sindh,  and Beyond’, South Asia: Journal of South
Asian Studies .: p. ; Nandita Bhavnani, ‘Unwanted Refugees: Sindhi Hindus in India
and Muhajirs in Sindh’, South Asia: Journal of South Asian Studies .: p. .
LANGUAGE SHIFT AND IDENTITY REPRODUCTION 
belongs nowhere.’ Mohan subsequently concludes that ‘there is no place
16
for Sindhi Hindu refugees like him in the new Indian nation’.17
More inclusively, Rita Kothari describes Sindhis after partition as ‘a
beggarly linguistic minority’.18 She, like Nandita Bhavnani in
‘Unwanted Refugees: Sindhi Hindus in India and Muhajirs in Sindh’,
discusses how cultural practices (such as eating meat and writing in
Naskh, the Arabic writing system) made the community ‘irksome’ to
India’s Hindus (namely vegetarians who wrote in Devanagari, the
Sanskrit script used for Hindi).19 Kothari and Bhavnani conclude that
Indians discriminated against Sindhis.20 The community felt this
discrimination all the more poignantly since—unlike refugees from
Punjab and Bengal—their homeland was entirely located in Pakistan.
Discrimination after partition contributed to language shift and attrition
among diaspora Sindhis in India. C. J. Daswani states that language
attrition ‘deals with the phenomena of gradual or sudden language
decay resulting from a significant change in the use of that language as
a regular vehicle of communication by its speakers’.21 He discusses how
partition forced refugees from Sindh to live in culturally and
linguistically alien Indian communities. Life in these communities
required them to communicate in languages other than Sindhi.
Daswani maintains that this situation produced language shift and that
it severely diminished diaspora Sindhis’ use of their mother tongue.
The language’s domains of use became so constrained that he
concludes: ‘It is evident that many third generation Sindhis in India do
not identify with Sindhi language and culture.’22
In The Burden of Refuge: The Sindhi Hindus of Gujarat, Kothari confirms
Daswani’s conclusion about language shift and attrition. She interviews
a young Sindhi woman named Bhumika Udernani. Bhumika refuses to
speak the Sindhi language with her parents. She is so intent on not
speaking the language that she convinces her parents to stop speaking
16
Kalpana, Jalavatni, p. .
17
Trisha Lalchandani, ‘Alienation, Displacement, and Home in Mohan Kalpana’s
Jalavatni’, South Asia: Journal of South Asian Studies .: p. .
18
Rita Kothari, Unbordered Memories: Sindhi Stories of Partition (Delhi: Penguin,
), p. xvi.
19
Ibid.; Bhavnani, ‘Unwanted Refugees’, p. ; Kumar and Kothari, ‘Sindh,  and
Beyond’, p. .
20
Kothari, Unbordered Memories, p. xvi; Bhavnani, ‘Unwanted Refugees’, p. .
21
C. J. Daswani, ‘Language Attrition: The Case of Indian Sindhi’, Oceanic Linguistics
Special Publications (): p. .
22
Ibid., p. .
 M A T T H E W A . C O O K A N D M A Y A K H E M L A N I D AV I D
it: ‘It used to irritate us [Bhumika and her siblings] when they [the
parents] spoke to us in Sindhi. So even they have switched over to
Hindi [the dominant language of North India].’23 Kothari describes
Bhumika’s antipathy toward Sindhi as so strong that ‘she not only shed
her language but also finds it repulsive when a young Sindhi of her age
appears ensconced in the language’.24 Kothari quotes Bhumika as
stating: ‘When I see a girl of my age speaking Sindhi, I feel, “Oh my
God, what have her parents done to her”.’25 Kothari maintains that
such negative sentiments are widespread among third-generation
diaspora Sindhis. Kothari interviews Deepak Bhavnani, a
third-generation Sindhi who attends a Gujarati-medium school. He
states to Kothari that he refuses to speak Sindhi due to discrimination.
He bluntly states that ‘people in my college think Sindhis are some kind
of inferior people … they say that Sindhis are dirty, they eat meat and
their homes stink’.26 Kothari concludes that such sentiments are
‘hegemonic’ in Gujarat and widespread in India.27
Negative sentiments by diaspora Sindhis about their mother tongue are
not exclusive to the third post-partition generation. Maya Kodnani, a
second-generation Sindhi politician from Gujarat, is (despite regret)
negative about the language. Like Daswani, she describes how language
shift after partition negatively constrained the mother tongue use by
diaspora Sindhis:
I was myself never fluent in Sindhi. I grew up in a Gujarati locality and spoke only
Gujarati. When we can’t send children to Sindhi-medium schools, because there
is no future (where are the Sindhi colleges?), we can’t force them to speak Sindhi.
They need to know Hindi or English. I feel sorry about what is happening; it is
almost as if to know Sindhi is to be backward.28
23
Rita Kothari, The Burden of Refuge: The Sindhi Hindus of Gujarat (Delhi: Orient
Longman, ), p. .
24
Ibid.
25
Ibid.
26
Ibid., p. . For additional insights into post-partition life for diaspora Sindhis in
Gujarat, see Rita Kothari, ‘Unwanted Identities in Gujarat’, in Michel Boivin and
Matthew A. Cook (eds.), Interpreting the Sindhi World: Essays on Society and History (Karachi
and London: Oxford University Press, ), pp. –.
27
Rita Kothari, ‘From Conclusion to Beginnings: My Journey with Partition’, in
Urvashi Butalia (ed.), Partition: The Long Shadow (New Delhi: Zubaan, ), p. .
28
Kothari, Burden of Refuge, p. . For a similar sentiment, see Arvind Iyengar,
‘Self-Perceptions of Heritage Language Shift among Young Sindhis in Pune’, M.A.
thesis, University of New England,  (https://www.academia.edu//Self-
Perceptions_of_Heritage_Language_Shift_Among_Young_Sindhis_in_Pune [accessed 
LANGUAGE SHIFT AND IDENTITY REPRODUCTION 
In The Burden of Refuge, Kothari describes a second-generation diaspora
Sindhi who aims to escape discrimination by linguistically modifying his
surname. Sindhi surnames are often easy to identify since they frequently
end with the ‘-ani’ suffix. This suffix means ‘belonging to the family of’.29
The surname ‘Hiranandani’ literally translates as ‘belonging to the family
of Hiranand’. Kothari observes that some diaspora Sindhis drop their
surname suffixes to avoid negative appraisals and to get ahead:
A journalist with a prestigious English paper in Ahmedabad states that he
dropped the suffix ‘ni’ from his name because he sees himself as a non-Sindhi,
‘merely an Indian’. His last name now gives the illusion that he is a South
Indian, an identity that evokes in Gujarat the image of someone who is
well-educated and has good English skills.30
Daswani also describes second (and third)-generation diaspora Sindhis

who choose to obliterate the ‘-ani’ suffix as a marker of identity.31 He
records how, after partition, some Sindhi families shifted their surnames
from Chandiramani to Chandi, from Kewalramani to Kelly, from
Uttamchandani to Uttam, and from Hiranandani to Hira.32
Among India’s diaspora Sindhis, debates about language shift began soon
after partition.33 Refugees from Sindh wanted their language included in the
Eighth Schedule of the Indian Constitution. This part of the Constitution
December ]). A diaspora Sindhi from Pune states to Iyengar that ‘today, even if I want
to learn Sindhi, where do I learn from? There are no classes, no coaching. I’m not going to
do a study on it. Probably just a crash course, like one month, just to get the basics right.
But there’s nothing to do. Where do I go? So, I think that’s like a major problem. I think if
you propagate it properly, maybe people will be interested in learning it’ (p. ).
29
Daswani, ‘Language Attrition’, p. ; Yashodhara Wadhwani, ‘Sindhi Surnames
Ending in–ANI’, Baroda Oriental Institute Journal .: pp. –. Sindhi surnames can
also refer to geographic origin (for example, Punjabi and Multani) and frequently end
in ‘ja’, a possessive suffix (for example, Hinduja means ‘of the Indus River’).
30
Kothari, Burden of Refuge, p. .
31
C. J. Daswani, ‘Problems of Sindhi in India’, in A. K. Biswas (ed.), Profiles in Indian
Languages and Literatures (Kanpur: Indian Languages Society, ), p. .
32
Daswani, ‘Language Attrition’, p. . For more comprehensive studies of language
shift among second-generation diaspora Sindhis, see C. J. Daswani and S. Parchani,
Sociolinguistic Survey of Indian Sindhi (Mysore: Central Institute of Indian Languages, );
Lachman Mulchand Khubchandani, ‘The Acculturation of Indian Sindhi to Hindi: A
Study of Language in Contact’, Ph.D. diss., University of Pennsylvania,  (http://
repository.upenn.edu/dissertations/AAI [accessed  December ]).
33
For an account of language shift among Sindhis in Pakistan, see Tariq Rahman,
Language Ideology and Power: Language-learning Among the Muslims of Pakistan and North India
(Karachi: Oxford University Press, ), pp. –.
 M A T T H E W A . C O O K A N D M A Y A K H E M L A N I D AV I D
listed languages that the Indian state promoted. This promotion aimed to
‘develop’ languages so that they ‘grow rapidly in richness and become
effective means of communicating modern knowledge’.34 Woven into the
question of including Sindhi in the Eighth Schedule was a debate about
shifting the language’s writing system from Naskh to Devanagari (namely
from Arabic to Hindi’s Sanskrit-derived script).
Debates about the proper writing system for Sindhi extended back to the
British colonization of Sindh in . As part of a general policy on
governing through vernaculars, the British shifted the state language from
Persian to Sindhi.35 After this shift, they debated what writing systems
were best for Sindhi. Before colonization, Sindhi-speakers from different
groups wrote their mother tongue in multiple scripts. The British whittled
these scripts down to two: Naskh and Khudawadi (a Devanagari-related
script).36 In , they declared that Naskh, rather than Khudawadi,
would be the writing system for the Sindhi language. In addition to its use
by the state, the British adopted Naskh as the writing system in Sindhi
schools and textbooks. A significant result of this adoption was that Sindhi
books—before partition—were mostly written in Naskh.
Partition was a critical event for not only diaspora Sindhis, but also their
use of Naskh. Influenced by Jairamdas Daulatram, a prominent Sindhi
freedom fighter and Congress Party politician, the Sindhi Sahitya
Sabha (Sindhi Literature Assembly) convened a sammelan (conference) in
December .37 The sammelan resolved that Devanagari should
replace Naskh. The idea that India, after partition, would be a territory
of different linguistic states greatly influenced Daulatram’s arguments in
favour of Devanagari. It linked linguistic groups to ‘states of their own’
to bind India’s diversity into a more singular unity.38 However, the idea
34
Government of India, Official Languages Resolution of , Para.  (https://rajbhasha.
gov.in/en/official-language-resolution- [accessed  December ]).
35
For a history of this policy, see Tariq Rahman, ‘British Language Policies and
Imperialism in India’, Language Problems and Planning .: pp. –.
36
Matthew A. Cook, ‘When Writing Fails: The Mid-Nineteenth Century Colonial
History of Sindh’s Khudawadi Script’. A paper presented at the Writing and the Inscription
of Power in South Asia Workshop at Duke University ( April ).
37
Popati Hiranandani, Sindhis: The Scattered Treasure (New Delhi: Malaah Publications,
), p. . Jairamdas Daulatram was the first ‘Indian’ governor of Bihar (–). He
was also the Union Minister for Food and Agriculture (–) and the governor of
Assam (–).
38
Rita Kothari, ‘The Paradox of a Linguistic Minority’, in Asha Sarangi and Sudha Pai
(eds.), Interrogating Reorganization of States: Culture, Identity, and Politics in India (New Delhi:
Routledge, ), p. .
LANGUAGE SHIFT AND IDENTITY REPRODUCTION 
(later formalized in the States Reorganization Act of ) had no room
for diaspora Sindhis. Unlike other linguistic groups in India, the
community could not conflate language and territory. Considering this
fact, Daulatram argued that Sindhi was a language of ‘national’
importance. He maintained that Sindhi, like Sanskrit, had to be
approached ‘from the national point of view’ because of its ‘basic
ancient links with various languages of the country’.39 Sindhi’s links to
Hindi were particularly important because the Eighth Schedule of the
Indian Constitution promoted its growth and enrichment. Letters
between Daulatram and Ghanshyam Shivdasani, a fellow Sindhi
freedom fighter and Congress Party politician, illustrate a plan to use
Hindi to get Sindhi into the Eighth Schedule: ‘The languages
mentioned in the schedule are the languages from which help can be
derived for enrichment of Hindi. Sindhi can be included in the
schedule because Sindhi also can enrich Hindi in some respect.’40
Implicit in this plan, as well as in Daulatram’s arguments to the Sindhi
Sahitya Sabha, is that Sindhi should be, like Hindi, written in an
‘indigenous’ script like Devanagari rather than a ‘foreign’ one
like Naskh.41
Following the Sindhi Sahitya Sabha endorsement of Devanagari, the
All India Sindhi Displaced Persons’ Convention also recommended a
shift from Naskh in August .42 During Daulatram’s tenure as a
Cabinet minister, the Sindhi Sahitya Sabha approached the Ministry of
Education (under freedom fighter Abu Kalam Azad) to make shifting
Naskh to Devanagari a government policy. The ministry endorsed this
request on  March . The endorsement stated:
The Government of India in consultation with all the State Governments has
decided to accept a proposal of responsible Sindhi scholars and educationists to
change the Arabic script for the Sindhi language into that of Devanagari. The
39
Ibid., p. .
40
Ibid.
41
Daulatram’s advocacy of Devanagari was part of a larger push by him to encourage
diaspora Sindhis to culturally jettison Muslim ‘overtones’. Bhavnani writes that ‘the
Perso-Arabic alphabet [Naskh], which had been widely used by Sindhi Hindus for the
Sindhi language over the preceding century, was one of the first casualties of this
move’ (p. ).
42
C. J. Daswani, ‘Movement for the Recognition of Sindhi and for the Choice of a
Script for Sindhi’, in E. Annamalai (ed.), Language Movements in India (Mysore: Central
Institute of Indian Languages, ), p. .
 M A T T H E W A . C O O K A N D M A Y A K H E M L A N I D AV I D
State Governments have been requested to take necessary steps to implement the
above proposal so far as education in schools is concerned.43
However, as early as July , there were protests against shifting the
Sindhi script from Naskh to Devanagari. One group of diaspora Sindhi
educators officially complained against the shift to the Ministry of
Education.44 Several educators threatened to challenge the ministry’s
endorsement of Devanagari in court. After critics collected ,
signatures against it, the government modified its support and
recognized both Naskh and Devanagari in .45 However, some state
and city governments failed to implement this modification. A group of
diaspora Sindhis took the Municipal Corporation of Greater Bombay to
court over this failure. Since the Corporation did not offer Naskh as an
option to Sindhi students, they argued that it violated the Ministry of
Education’s  recognition of Naskh and Devanagari. While neither a
petitioner nor a respondent in the case, Jairamdas Daulatram did
submit an opinion in favour of Devanagari to the court. Nonetheless,
Justice K. K. Desai of the Bombay High Court ruled against the
exclusive use of Devanagari for Sindhi:
Now, I have not understood the attitude of the Corporation as to why the
Arabic-Sindhi script which was in fact continuously used for impartation of
education should contrary to the desire of a large section of the public of the
locality be changed to Devanagari script. Why in that connection the large
section of public and parents of students who desire that education should be
imparted in Arabic-Sindhi script should not be treated with equality in the
matter of impartation of education in primary schools like Maharashtrians,
Gujaratis, Kannaris, Tamils, and Telugus? That students whose parents are
Sindhis and whose language has been according to their own opinion written
in Arabic-Sindhi script are not entitle[d] to the same consideration and
treatment as the other communities are entitled, I have not understood …
these Sindhis are entitled to equal treatment like other communities. The
treatment meted out to them in this compulsory change-over had been grossly
discriminatory as contended on behalf of the petitioners.46
Government of India, Ministry of Education, Notification No. F /-D.I. (

43
March ).
44
Daswani, ‘Movement for the Recognition of Sindhi’, p. .
45
Hiranandani, Sindhis, p. . For the text of the Ministry of Education’s  statement,
see Government of India, Ministry of Education, Letter No. N -/-D.I. (
January ).
46
K. J. Gowalani and Another v. the Municipal Corporation of Great Bombay, Civil Petition No.
 of  (decided  August ).
LANGUAGE SHIFT AND IDENTITY REPRODUCTION 
Desai found the Municipal Corporation of Greater Bombay guilty of
violating Article  of the Indian Constitution, which provides equal
protection under the law.
Inspired by pro-Naskh protests, diaspora Sindhi educators—along with
authors such as Gobind Malhi—formed the Sindhi Sahitya Mandal
(Sindhi Literature Group). This group later changed its name to the
Akhil Bharat Sindhi Boli ain Sahit Sabha (All India Sindhi Language
and Literature Assembly) and led efforts to include Sindhi in the Eighth
Schedule of the Indian Constitution. After a long lobbying campaign,
the Akhil Bharat Sindhi Boli ain Sahit Sabha succeeded: the Indian
government recognized Sindhi as part of the Eighth Schedule in
April .
After Sindhi’s inclusion in the Eighth Schedule, the Government of
India awarded the language a large development grant. The Akhil
Bharat Sindhi Boli ain Sahit Sabha debated how this grant should be
spent. During these discussions, questions about shifting the Sindhi
writing system from Naskh to Devanagari re-emerged. Debates about
this shift were so contentious that two factions developed: one
exclusively pro-Naskh and one completely pro-Devanagari. These
factions divided diaspora Sindhis and led to the establishment of a new
pro-Devanagari group headed by Jairamdas Daulatram: the Sarva
Bharat Sindhi Boli Sahitya Kala Vikas Sabha (All India Sindhi
Language and Literature Arts Development Assembly). In response, the
Akhil Bharat Sindhi Boli ain Sahit Sabha (along with  other literary
and cultural organizations) submitted a memorandum to India’s prime
minister. It asserted that the Sindhi language’s legitimate writing system
was Naskh. It also requested that the Ministry of Education withdraw
its order recognizing Devanagari. The Sarva Bharat Sindhi Boli Sahitya
Kala Vikas Sabha also appealed to the Ministry of Education. It
demanded that the ministry’s  order to shift from Naskh to
Devanagari be made government policy. The government’s position on
this demand was and still is that diaspora Sindhis need to resolve their
language debates. Until such time (which, according to Rita Kothari,
has not yet arrived), the Indian government would remain neutral by
supporting both Devanagari and Naskh.47
47
Kothari, Burden of Refuge, p. . To promote neutrality in the script debate and to
move forward, the Government of India established an autonomous organization in
: the National Council for Promotion of the Sindhi Language.
 M A T T H E W A . C O O K A N D M A Y A K H E M L A N I D AV I D
The positions of the Akhil Bharat Sindhi Boli ain Sahit Sabha and
Sarva Bharat Sindhi Boli Sahitya Kala Vikas Sabha on shifting the
Sindhi script involved questions of identity. In addition to the false
assertion that the Sindhi language’s original script was Devanagari,
the latter organization argued that Naskh failed to reflect diaspora
Sindhis’ new cultural realities in India. Supporters of this argument—
like Jairamdas Daulatram—noted that people in India mostly wrote
Indo-Aryan languages (like Sindhi) in Devanagari or related scripts.48
This fact contrasted with Muslims (in both India and Pakistan), who
used a Semitic writing system derived from Naskh (nastaliq). Those
who supported the use of Naskh denounced such contrasts as
anti-Muslim communalism.49 In Sindhi Bolia Jee Lipi Keri?,
T. T. Wadhwani stated that arguments that maintained Naskh was
symbolic of ‘Muslim domination’ were ‘gandi zehniyat’ (a dirty
mentality).50 He asks:
It is in the Arabic [Naskh] script that our Gita, Yoga Vashisht, Ramayan, and
Mahabharata exist. Are they any less sacred because they are in the Sindhi
script? On the other hand, if there are awful books in devanagari script, do
they become beautiful because they use devanagari?51
Well-known diaspora Sindhi writers such as Kirat Babani and Popati

Hiranandani also argued that a shift from Naskh to Devanagari would
alienate diaspora Sindhis from their cultural past.52 They maintained
that this alienation would lead to language attrition and identity loss.53
It is undeniable that diaspora Sindhis experienced language shift and,
subsequently, attrition after partition. In ‘Problems of Sindhi in India’,
Daswani writes:
Jairamdas Daulatram, ‘Sindhu mein Devanagari Lipi’, Hindvasi, Bombay Edition

48
(October ); Ghanshyam Shivdasani, ‘Sindhi Bolia/Devanagari Lipi’, Hindvasi,

Bombay Edition (April ); Loknath Jetley, Sindhi Bolia ji Lipi (Bombay: n.p., );
Tarachand Gajra, ‘Devanagari Script for the Sindhi Language’, New Era, Ulasnagar
Edition ().
49
Hiranandani, Sindhis, p. .
50
Kothari, ‘Paradox of a Linguistic Minority’, p. .
51
T. T. Wadhwani, Sindhi Bolia Jee Lipi Keri (Delhi: Sindhi Boli ain Lipi Sabha,
), p. .
52
For additional perspectives on this issue, see Tirth Vasant, ‘Sindhi Boli ain Lipi’,
Naeen Duniya (); Lekhraj Kishanchand Mirchandani (a.k.a. Aziz), Sindhi Bolia ji
Lipia jo Masailo (Bombay: n.p., ); and T. T. Wadhwani, Sindhi Bolia ji Lipi Kehri
(Bombay: n.p., ).
53
Kothari, Burden of Refuge, p. .
LANGUAGE SHIFT AND IDENTITY REPRODUCTION 
Faced with the choice of a language, the Sindhis have tended to gradually give up
their language in economic and public domains and adhere to some major
language other than Sindhi. Most middle and upper-class parents send their
children to non-Sindhi schools. In many homes, as a result of younger
generation pressure, home-language Sindhi is being replaced with either
English or another Indian language.54
Daswani maintains that this shift and attrition result in a loss of identity.
He concludes: ‘Most linguistic aspects that reflect [Sindhi] cultural identity
have been lost or replaced by features from other Indian languages.’55
This conclusion is most evident at the regional level of dialects. Before
partition, Sindhi had six dialects: Vicholi, Sindhi Saraiki, Lari, Lasi,
Thareli, and Kutchi. People from different regions spoke these dialects:
Vicholi in central Sindh, Sindhi Saraiki in the north, Lari on the Indus
River’s south-eastern bank, Lasi on the south-western bank, Thareli in
the eastern desert, and Kutchi in the south-east. Since these dialects are
mostly no longer perceived by diaspora Sindhis, Daswani concludes that
they have lost the ability to differentiate once unique regional identities:
‘Most Sindhis in India today do not perceive the actual dialect
distinctions which were stable regional variation markers in Sindhi.’56
He argues that this loss is due to Sindhis from different regions living in
proximity to each other after partition.57 He concludes that this
proximity helped to fuse dialects so that ‘some of the established markers
of social distinctions [among Sindhis] have become de-emphasized’.58
The Government of India—on account of the Naskh–Devanagari
debate—exacerbated this fusion when it froze the language-development
grant that it gave after including Sindhi in the Eighth Schedule: a lack of
government funds curtailed support for recording and promoting Sindhi
dialects. Daswani contends that this lack of funds also created a
generation of illiterate diaspora Sindhis: unable to read Naskh and
having no Sindhi books printed in Devanagari, they shifted their mother
tongue to other languages.
While this shift does result in language attrition after partition, it does
not necessarily lead to a loss of identity among diaspora Sindhis. If
identity solely depended on language and literature, a causal
relationship between it and mother-tongue attrition would have
54
Daswani, ‘Problems of Sindhi’, pp. –.
55
Ibid., p. .
56
Ibid.
57
Ibid.
58
Ibid.
 M A T T H E W A . C O O K A N D M A Y A K H E M L A N I D AV I D
considerable merit. However, identity is culturally complex. In addition to

language and literature, it can include beliefs, morals, and customs.59
Identity not only involves what people say and write, but also what they
do, both symbolically and literally.60 It is a social process that connects
people to membership (or non-membership) in groups by establishing
cultural similarities and differences.61 This process includes both
adequation and distinction. In ‘Language and Identity’, Mary Bucholtz and
Kira Hall state that adequation denotes social relations of likeness while
distinction is a ‘mechanism whereby salient difference is produced’.62
They argue that ‘distinction is therefore the converse of adequation, in
that in this relation difference is understood rather than erased’.63
While frequently playing a role in adequation and distinction, language
and literature do not exclusively ascribe identity. Before partition,
diaspora Sindhis hierarchized identity by occupation. The two most
significant of these occupational groups (namely Amils/government
administrators and Bhaibands/businessmen) placed the pursuit of state
power and capital power at the centre of their identities.64 When the
formation of Pakistan ripped diaspora Sindhis from their pre-partition
positions of political and material power, it undermined the community’s
influence and affluence. It also fundamentally challenged two of its core
cultural modalities. These modalities’ drive for state and capital power
facilitate one reason why diaspora Sindhis shifted to languages other than
their mother tongue: In India’s non-Sindhi environment, this shift helped
to reproduce pre-partition identities based not on language and
literature, but on occupation. While language and literature may have
informed these identities, they were not its primary vehicles. The fact
that only ‘litterateurs’ increasingly promoted the Sindhi language after
partition supports this interpretation. This group’s inability to harness
enthusiasm for its publications in Sindhi reflects how the cultural
modalities of their community did not require their mother tongue to
Carol McGranahan, ‘Ethnography Beyond Method: The Importance of an

59
Ethnographic Sensibility’, Sites: A Journal of Social Anthropology and Cultural Studies .: p. .
60
Clifford Geertz, The Interpretation of Cultures (New York: Basic Books, ), p. .
61
Paul Kroskrity, ‘Identity’, in Alessandro Duranti (ed.), Key Terms in Language and Culture
(Malden, MA: Blackwell Publishing, ), p. .
62
Mary Bucholtz and Kira Hall, ‘Language and Identity’, in Alessandro Duranti (ed.),
A Companion to Linguistic Anthropology (Malden, MA: Blackwell Publishing, ), p. .
63
Ibid.
64
Matthew A. Cook, Annexation and the Unhappy Valley: The Historical Anthropology of Sindh’s
Colonization (Leiden and Boston: Brill, ), pp. –.
LANGUAGE SHIFT AND IDENTITY REPRODUCTION 
reproduce themselves in India: ‘The only group of people who continue to
maintain support and espouse the cause [for Sindhi] are the litterateurs.
They have been fighting a losing battle. Publications of books and
periodicals in Sindhi has ever remained a small-time private enterprise
with the writer, often times, being his own publisher.’65
The limited involvement of diaspora Sindhi businessmen in the Eighth
Schedule movement and script debates also illustrates how the community
disconnects its mother tongue from cultural reproduction. This lack of
participation demonstrates: ‘The realization on the part of the Indian
Sindhis that their language performs a limited role of intra-group
communication, and it, in no way, contributes to their economic
survival.’66 For post-partition diaspora Sindhis in India, this survival
was not just material, but part of their identity and its cultural
modalities. With this fact in mind, Daswani concludes: ‘The Sindhi
language will continue to be a minority language which performs a
limited function.’67 Given their mother tongue’s limited function,
diaspora Sindhis increasingly use other languages to reproduce their
identity—in particular, English and Hindi.68 By being the major
languages of the Indian state and business, English and Hindi are ideal
vehicles for reproducing cultural modalities that historically define
diaspora Sindhi identity.
History, identity, and language among diaspora Sindhis in

Southeast Asia
After partition, diaspora Sindhis not only settled in India, but also across
the globe. Many Sindhis now live in non-South Asian environments.69
Anita Raina Thapan, in Sindhi Diaspora in Manila, Hong Kong, and Jakarta,
65
Daswani, ‘Problems of Sindhi’, p. . In The Pages of My Life, Popati Hiranandani
similarly states that ‘nowadays Sindhi books are not sold at all because most of the
Sindhi medium schools are closed. Who will learn Sindhi? It has lost its utility because
we haven’t got our own state! Nobody gets a job when he has studied in a Sindh
medium school. Hence, when I don’t sell my own books to others, how can I charge
you [Panjwani]? Now we only exchange our books—we the Sindhi writers’
(Hiranandani, in Panjwani, ‘Introduction’, p. xc).
66
Daswani, ‘Movement for the Recognition of Sindhi’, p. .
67
Ibid.
68
Daswani, ‘Problems of Sindhi’, p. .
69
Falzon, Cosmopolitan Connections, pp. –.
 M A T T H E W A . C O O K A N D M A Y A K H E M L A N I D AV I D
writes that, for Sindhis, their ‘communities around the world represent a
“homeland” without a territory’.70 One such ‘homeland’ is Southeast
Asia, which hosts multiple diaspora Sindhi communities.71 The second
half of this article describes the history of these communities and details
language shift. It argues that language shift, by suspending a connection
between mother-tongue proficiency and being Sindhi, facilitates a
continued sense of identity. We also detail how diaspora Sindhis utilize
sentiments of adequation and distinction to sustain identity in Southeast
Asia. The article concludes by using the diaspora Sindhi communities
of India and Southeast Asia to reflect on the connection between
language shift and cultural change.
History, identity, and language shift
The origins of Southeast Asia’s Sindhi communities pre-date partition in

. In The Global World of Indian Merchants, –: Traders of Sind from
Bukhara to Panama, Claude Markovits illustrates how Sindhis have long
conducted business outside South Asia.72 However, there was an
intensification of migration from South to Southeast Asia between the
mid-nineteenth century and the Second World War.73 These migrations
70
Anita Raina Thapan, Sindhi Diaspora in Manila, Hong Kong and Jakarta (Manila: Ateneo
De Manila University Press, ), p. .
71
This article utilizes examples from Indonesia, Malaysia, and Singapore. For a
personal history of the community in Manila, see Lou Gopal, ‘Manila Nostalgia’, 
December  (http://www.lougopal.com/manila/?p= [accessed  December
]). About language shift among diaspora Sindhis in Manila, see Roopa Dewan,
‘Deethnicisation: A Study of Language and Culture Change in the Sindhi Immigrant
Community of Metro Manila’, Philippine Journal of Linguistics .: pp. –. For an
analysis of diaspora Sindhis in Asia but outside the region covered by this article, see
Mamta Sachan Kumar, ‘Trade of the Times: Reconceiving “Diaspora” with the Sindhi
Merchants of Japan’, M.A. thesis, National University of Singapore,  (https://
scholarbank.nus.edu.sg/handle// [accessed  December ]).
72
Claude Markovits, The Global World of Indian Merchants, –: Traders of Sind from
Bukhara to Panama (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ), pp. –.
73
Thapan, Sindhi Diaspora, p. . For more details about Indian businessmen in
Southeast Asia, see Jayati Bhattacharya, Beyond the Myth: Indian Business Communities in
Singapore (Singapore: Institute for Southeast Asian Studies, ). Regarding the history
of Sindhi businessmen in Singapore and other Southeast Asian locales, see the 
International Conference on Southeast Asia (ICONSEA) presentation by Jayati
Bhattacharya entitled ‘Alienation, Survival, and Success: The Sindhi Community in
Southeast East Asia’.
LANGUAGE SHIFT AND IDENTITY REPRODUCTION 
coincided with the rise of Great Britain as a colonial power in Southeast
Asia. As British subjects, South Asians could migrate to other regions
under imperial control. In Southeast Asia, they wove themselves into
the region’s economic fabric as traders and merchants. Often already
familiar with the English language and British business practices, many
South Asians became economically influential in Southeast Asia.
Colonial legal and trade agreements furthered this influence by
including South Asians as British subjects.
Until their homeland’s colonization in , Sindhis generally
conducted business in and with Central Asia and western India.74 As
British subjects, Sindhis increasingly looked toward Southeast Asia for
economic opportunities after . Along with other migrants from
South Asia, Sindhis gained a toehold in the economies of Southeast
Asia and then expanded their influence until the Second World War.
The first two businesses established in Southeast Asia by Sindhis were
Wassimall-Assomull and Co. and K. A. J. Chotirmall and Co. in the
s.75 Another influential Sindhi business was Pohumal Brothers.
Established in the late nineteenth century, this business was an
important player in Singapore and Southeast Asia’s textile markets.76
Sindhis called those who worked for such firms sindhworkis.77
Sindhworkis’ increasing economic importance impacted Sindhi cultural
practices. Arranged marriages with male sindhworkis became
increasingly prestigious and desirable.78 Working abroad in Southeast
Asia was also viewed positively through new Sindhi idioms like jay vya
Java say thya yava (whoever goes to Java comes back rich) and the use of
‘Java’ as a verb ( java tho karain) to signify extravagant spending.
Sindhi businesses in Southeast Asia generally flourished.79 Until the
early s, these businesses were of a particular type: large firms with
offices in multiple cities.80 During the Great Depression, sindhworkis
74
Markovits, Global World, pp. –.
75
Wassimull-Assomull and Company and K. A. J. Chotirmall and Company initially
began in Java—a Dutch rather than British colonial territory.
76
Regarding the textile firm B. H. T. Doulatram (which had branches in Penang and
Singapore), see Bhattacharya, Beyond the Myth, p. .
77
Falzon, Cosmopolitan Connections, pp. –.
78
Maya Khemlani David, The Sindhis of Malaysia: A Sociolinguistic Study (London: ASEAN
Academic Press, ), p. .
79
While hard numbers can be difficult to ascertain, it is the case that the Sindhi
Merchants Association of Singapore only had ten members when established in . By
, its membership had more than doubled to .
80
Thapan, Sindhi Diaspora, p. .
 M A T T H E W A . C O O K A N D M A Y A K H E M L A N I D AV I D
increasingly established smaller businesses that were less capital-intensive.

Less prone to risk and failure, these businesses often focused on local
niche markets. The Second World War expedited this change to
smaller firms by destroying the economies of Southeast Asia and doing
away with legal and trade agreements that benefited sindhworkis as
British subjects. Partition also facilitated this change. Forced to leave a
substantial amount of their wealth in Pakistan after partition, many
Sindhis—now refugees—had less capital to invest in large-scale enterprises.
In addition to its economic impact, partition intensified cultural
distinctions among diaspora Sindhis in Southeast Asia. Most
sindhworkis were Bhaibands rather than Amils. The term ‘Amil’ derives
from amal—a Persian word meaning ‘to administer’. Starting in the
eighteenth century, non-Muslim government administrators in Sindh
took the title ‘Amil’ and, as a symbol of their elite status, stopped
intermarrying with Bhaibands.81 In contrast to Amils’ identification
with state power, Bhaiband identity oriented toward the pursuit of
capital. Thapan writes that Bhaibands ‘tended to specialize in specific
enterprises and often had a monopoly on certain kinds of trade (e.g.,
hundis [bills of exchange], textiles, grains, cotton, and oilseeds)’.82 She
also writes that ‘hierarchy among the Bhaibands was based on
wealth’.83 Their division into sahukars (merchant-bankers) and hatawaras
(shopkeepers) symbolically reflects how wealth shaded hierarchy
among Bhaibands.
Following Sindh’s colonization by Britain, Bhaibands experienced
increased socio-political conflict with Amils as well as an economic
decline.84 These two factors encouraged Bhaibands to look outside of
Sindh and toward Southeast Asia for economic opportunities. Very few
Amils joined Bhaibands in establishing businesses in Southeast Asia.
The Amils who did served Bhaibands as accountants and business
81
In India, Amils remain the elite group among diaspora Sindhis. They not only make
up the community’s traditional literati, but, as in the precolonial and colonial periods,
occupy politically influential positions (for example, Lal Krishna Advani and other
Sindhis in the Bharatiya Janata Party). For additional details on the historical roots and
relationships of Amils and Bhaibands, see Matthew A. Cook, ‘Keeping Your Head or
Getting Ahead? The “Sindhi” Migration of Eighteenth-Century India’, in Boivin and
Cook (eds.), Interpreting the Sindhi World, pp. –.
82
Thapan, Sindhi Diaspora, p. .
83
Ibid.
84
Cook, Annexation and the Unhappy Valley, pp. –.
LANGUAGE SHIFT AND IDENTITY REPRODUCTION 
administrators. This service arrangement shifted the traditional hierarchy
between Amils and Bhaibands:
When the Sindh Workies set up trading offices in different parts of India and
abroad, some Amils joined them to serve as business executives and
accountants. This represented a major shift in Amil and Bhaiband equations.
Whereas formerly both had functioned independently of each other, the Amils
now became the ‘service class’ of the prosperous Bhaibands.85
Partition furthered this shift by ripping Amils away from their association
with state power in Sindh. As partition refugees, diaspora Sindhis shifted
more toward the pursuit of capital—rather than state power—as a
modality for marking elite status. This shift was more significant in
Southeast Asia than in India, where being an Amil still retains an elite
connotation.86 Following partition, refugees used their existing business
relationships with diaspora Sindhis in Southeast Asia to help them to
migrate to the region. These migrations numerically grew Southeast
Asia’s already dominant Bhaiband population more rapidly than it did
for Amils. In a reflection of this numerical (as well as economic)
dominance, Amils in Southeast Asia—unlike in India—increasingly
acknowledged Bhaibands as elites. Thapan writes that ‘wealthy
Bhaibands, traditionally merchants and traders, constitute the elite
group par excellence’ and that ‘it is their way of life that most young
Sindhis aspire to’.87 In some communities, this hierarchical shift was so
significant that Amils now pass themselves off Bhaibands.88 In Malaysia,
it led to the ‘eradication’ of cultural distinctions between Amils and
Bhaibands among diaspora Sindhis.89 Symbolic of this eradication is
the fact that arranged marriages between Amils and Bhaibands are no
longer taboo in Southeast Asia. Maya Khemlani David, in The Sindhis of
Malaysia: A Sociolinguistic Study, writes that ‘marriages between Amils and
85
Thapan, Sindhi Diaspora, pp. –.
86
Thapan writes that ‘within the [Sindhi] community it is not uncommon for those who
have gone to school or have taken up professions to sometimes adopt names that are
associated with the Amils. These names represent a tradition of learning and
professional expertise and give one a sense of prestige within his or her own
community’ (ibid., p. ).
87
Ibid., p. .
88
Ibid., p. .
89
David, Sindhis of Malaysia, p. .
 M A T T H E W A . C O O K A N D M A Y A K H E M L A N I D AV I D
Bhaibunds [sic], which at one time were not encouraged, are no longer
considered undesirable’.90
In addition to cultural changes after partition, diaspora Sindhis in
Southeast Asia experienced language shift. The shift away from Sindhi
and toward other languages occurred at different rates in different
communities. Regardless of locale, this process generally entailed
code-switching. In Language Shift and Cultural Reproduction: Socialization, Self,
and Syncretism in a Papua New Guinea Village, Don Kulick defines
code-switching as a ‘type of verbal behaviour involving the alternate use
of different languages within a single stretch of discourse or within an
utterance’.91 Jane and Kenneth Hill, in Speaking Mexicano: Dynamics of
Syncretic Language in Central Mexico, argue that code-switching is not a
‘disorderly’ blend of languages. Instead, it is structured:
Linguists would like to be able to specify systemic constraints on code-switching,
just as we can specify the systemic handling of borrowings. The reason for this is
that linguists believe that bilingual code-switching is not disorderly, but is instead
part of a rule-governed linguistic competence. There should be a difference
between meaningful and appropriate code-switching and disorderly usage of
the type which has been called ‘code-mixing’.92
In Language Shift: Social Determinants of Linguistic Change in Bilingual Austria,

Susan Gal maintains that code-switching’s orderliness manifests itself by
being ‘closely tied to explicitly defined social contexts’.93 Depending on
social context (as well as generation), diaspora Sindhis in Malaysia
code-switch differently.94 This code-switching reflects progressively lower
90
Ibid. The fact that some third-generation Bhaibands gravitate toward conventionally
Amil occupations (such as medicine and law) is a further example of this cultural change
among diaspora Sindhis in Malaysia.
91
Don Kulick, Language Shift and Cultural Reproduction: Socialization, Self, and Syncretism in a
Papua New Guinea Village (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ), p. . Similarly,
Jane and Kenneth Hill define code-switching as a ‘self-conscious use of foreign materials in
order to create a “meaningful juxtaposition” of distinct language systems’ (Jane Hill and
Kenneth Hill, Speaking Mexicano: Dynamics of Syncretic Language in Central Mexico (Tucson:
University of Arizona Press, ), p. ).
92
Hill and Hill, Speaking Mexicano, p. . On code-mixing, see Erica McClure, ‘Formal
and Functional Aspects of the Codeswitched Discourse of Bilingual Children’, in Richard
Duran (ed.), Latino Language and Communicative Behavior (Ablewood, NJ: Ablex, ),
pp. –.
93
Susan Gal, Language Shift: Social Determinants of Linguistic Change in Bilingual Austria
(New York: Academic Press, ), p. .
94
Maya Khemlani David, ‘Code Switching Among Sindhis Experiencing Language
Shift in Malaysia’, in Boivin and Cook (eds.), Interpreting the Sindhi World, p. .
LANGUAGE SHIFT AND IDENTITY REPRODUCTION 
levels of Sindhi proficiency as well as an ‘intermediary step’ toward
language shift.95 In the context of Austrian bilinguals, Gal similarly
concludes that code-switching, if progressively systematic, can result in
language shift.96
Southeast Asian diaspora Sindhis use their mother tongue in a
progressively limited fashion. They no longer utilize it in professional
contexts such as business and administration.97 Depending on the
location of a community, diaspora Sindhis increasingly employ
non-mother tongue languages to communicate with each other.98 With
language shift in their public and private spheres, diaspora Sindhis are
linguistically very heterogeneous. In Jakarta, most diaspora Sindhis
speak Bahasa Indonesia. While many second-generation members of
this community remain partially proficient in Sindhi, they do not use
this language at home, school, or work.99 For this community, Bahasa
Indonesia ‘is, in fact, their mother tongue for all intents and
purposes’.100 Unlike many other diaspora Sindhis, those living in
Indonesia (a former Dutch rather than British colony) have a decidedly
weak grasp of English. Due to this weakness, diaspora Sindhis from
outside Indonesia tend to view the community as ‘backward’. Symbolic
of this view, diaspora Sindhis use the word jattu—a noun derived from
the peasant jat caste—to pejoratively describe individuals from this
community as lacking sophistication.101
In Malaysia, a shift to English and Malay increasingly characterizes the
use of language by diaspora Sindhis.102 This shift derives from Sindhi
having ‘no practical or utilitarian role to play in the larger Malaysian
context’.103 Diaspora Sindhis often split on the cultural impact of
language shift. In an online survey of diaspora Sindhis, we posed the
95
David, Sindhis of Malaysia, p. .
96
Gal, Language Shift, p. .
97
Thapan, Sindhi Diaspora, p. . A similar shift appears ongoing among diaspora
Sindhis in Thailand. While no formal study exists, comparable cases suggest that such
change is not exclusive to diaspora Sindhis (Rachanee Dersingh, ‘Patterns of Language
Choice in a Thai-Sikh Community in Bangkok’, MANUSHYA: Journal of Humanities .:
pp. –).
98
Ibid.; David, ‘Code Switching’, pp. –.
99
Thapan, Sindhi Diaspora, p. .
100
Ibid., p. .
101
Ibid., p. .
102
David, Sindhis of Malaysia, p. .
103
Ibid.
 M A T T H E W A . C O O K A N D M A Y A K H E M L A N I D AV I D
question: ‘Does not using Sindhi make you feel any less Sindhi?’104 Out of
 respondents,  replied that not knowing the Sindhi language did make
them feel less Sindhi. One respondent, who knows the language, stated
that not knowing Sindhi would make him feel somewhat less Sindhi. The
remaining  respondents answered that not knowing their mother
tongue did not make them feel less Sindhi. This disconnect between
mother-tongue proficiency and identity is particularly strong among
diaspora Sindhis in Malaysia: ‘The Malaysian Sindhis, although a
community fiercely proud of its ethnicity and concerned with
maintaining its distinctive culture, do not appear to see language
maintenance as critical for the preservation of their culture
and identity.’105
Language, culture, and identity are inherently connected. However, in
Malaysia, diaspora Sindhis do not view language shift as negatively
leading to identity loss. David writes that ‘the Malaysian Sindhis [sic]
reduction in the use of the ethnic language [Sindhi] does not appear to
have affected Sindhi culture … even with a decline in the use of the
Sindhi language, the Sindhi culture has been maintained’.106
A critical factor in understanding why Malaysian diaspora Sindhis do
not connect language shift with a loss of identity is that Bhaibands
overwhelmingly make up this community. Thapan writes that ‘it is
common to hear Sindhis refer to the “Amil mentality” and “Bhaiband
mentality”’.107 Amils, due to their associations with state power, value
not only professional expertise, but also education. In contrast,
Bhaibands do not:
Academic degrees have little relevance in his [Bhaiband] life and represent a
waste of time and effort. Even today, when most businessmen agree that
‘higher education’ is a must, they do not mean anything higher than an
undergraduate degree and that, too, only in subjects such as commerce or
business studies. More than anything else the BA degree is regarded as an
experience that broadens the vision and gives self-confidence. It does not
104
For a full description of the survey’s questions, answers, and methodology, see the
URL: https://www.researchgate.net/publication/_Does_loss_of_a_language_
equate_to_a_loss_in_identity?enrichId=rgreq-dbccfcbfedcff-XXX&
enrichSource=YZXJQYWdlOzMwNDYxMzYODtBUzozNzgNzMNjUMjkMD
JAMNzIMDQyNzMNQ%D%D&el=_x_&_esc=publicationCoverPdf (accessed 
December ).
105
David, Sindhis of Malaysia, p. .
106
Ibid.
107
Thapan, Sindhi Diaspora, p. .
LANGUAGE SHIFT AND IDENTITY REPRODUCTION 
provide an individual with a business sense nor is it a guarantee of success in
business—that comes only from actual experience and exposure. Professional
qualifications, such as a postgraduate degree in finance or an MBA, are
considered unnecessary.108
Grounded in a cultural modality based on the pursuit of capital,

Bhaibands are materialistic: ‘The Sindhi Bhaiband’s purpose in life is to
make money.’109 In Malaysia, where the languages of moneymaking are
not Sindhi, but Malay and English, the reproduction of Bhaibands’
materialistic ‘mentality’ demands language shift. Malaysian diaspora
Sindhis do not view this shift as negative because, in the context of
Southeast Asia, it functions to facilitate—not change—their
money-minded Bhaiband identity.110
Reproducing identity and replacing mother-tongue proficiency
Jane and Kenneth Hill state that ‘language shift is only one example—
although it may be the most important—of the abandonment of a
marker of “indigenous’ identity”’.111 This statement is not entirely the
case for diaspora Sindhis in Southeast Asia. While economic or
linguistic expediency may lead individuals to discard their mother
tongue, this shift also enables diaspora Sindhis to continue, rather than
abandon, their identity as Bhaibands. In this sense, language shift not
only empowers this group in their pursuit of capital, but also assists in
the reproduction of their identity.
In Southeast Asia, this reproduction involves suspending views that
differentiate language as either a purist or a power code. In linguistics,
‘codes’ are sets of ‘principles for selecting variants from a range of
108
Ibid., p. .
109
Ibid., p. .
110
Moneymaking, in and of itself, is often culturally inadequate for Bhaiband men.
They often spend their money on items aimed at communicating their success. Thapan
writes that ‘personal satisfaction at the accumulation of wealth, however, is insufficient
and must be complemented by the recognition and admiration of his community. That
is why keeping a low profile while making headway in business is not in the Sindhi
[Bhaiband] character. In order to gain the recognition of his peers, he must equip
himself with the symbols of success and these are material goods in the form of a grand
house in an affluent area, the most expensive cars, membership in exclusive clubs,
diamond jewelry for his wife, and so on’ (ibid., p. ). In India, such spending habits
result in the widespread impression that Sindhi women are chumkili (glittery).
111
Hill and Hill, Speaking Mexicano, p. .
 M A T T H E W A . C O O K A N D M A Y A K H E M L A N I D AV I D
possible [language] choices, in order to construct an utterance’.112 The

purist code maps a language into a singular domain of identity
characterized by an ‘ideal native speaker in a homogeneous
community’.113 It is socioculturally restrictive and characterizes
language shift as a ‘mongrelisation which leads to a degeneration of the
pure line’.114 Rather than emphasize a restricted view of identity, the
power-code approach examines language as a resource for material
gain.115 For diaspora Sindhis in Southeast Asia, language shift
represents a process that blends purity and power codes by suspending
the difference between linguistic identity and material gain. This
suspension makes it possible for Bhaibands to delink the reproduction
of their identity from proficiency in Sindhi and shift it to other
‘moneymaking’ languages. It also helps to explain why many diaspora
Sindhis do not view language shift as alarming. Rather than leading to
the abandonment of identity, this linguistic process enables its continuity.
The delinking of identity from mother-tongue proficiency frequently
results in diaspora Sindhis utilizing sentiments of adequation and
distinction to mark identity. A diaspora Sindhi who replied to our
online survey stated:
Speaking in English (or any other language) regularly, as opposed to Sindhi, does
not make me feel any less Sindhi. There are enough Sindhi customs/practices
(call it what you will) established to the extent that not speaking the language
does not make me feel as though I am missing out on anything.116
Other replies to our survey reflect this respondent’s sentiment of

adequation. Of the respondents who believed that not knowing their
mother tongue did not make them ‘less Sindhi’, most gave numerous
112
Ibid., p. .
113
Ibid., p. . Also see Noam Chomsky, Aspects of the Theory of Syntax (Boston:
Massachusetts Institute of Technology Press, ).
114
Hill and Hill, Speaking Mexicano, p. . On the influence of ‘purism’ in
anthropological thought, see Margaret Hogdon, Early Anthropology in the Sixteenth and
Seventeenth Centuries (New York: Cambridge University Press, ). On the concept’s
linguistic roots in the ‘Adamic Model’, see Hans Aarsleff, From Locke to Saussure: Essays on
the Study of Language and Intellectual History (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota
Press, ).
115
Hill and Hill, Speaking Mexicano, p. ; Gal, Language Shift, p. ; Kulick, Language
Shift, p. . Also see Gillian Sankoff, The Social Life of Languages (Philadelphia: University
of Pennsylvania Press, ).
116
Maya Khemlani David, ‘Does Loss of a Language Equate to a Loss in Identity’,
Language and Society Newsletter (): p. .
LANGUAGE SHIFT AND IDENTITY REPRODUCTION 
examples of non-linguistic factors that did make them feel Sindhi:
surnames, socio-economic status, dressing, religion, history, biological
roots, socio-personality, food, and networking. Survey replies frequently
repeated ‘networking’ with other community members as a factor. A
diaspora Sindhi from Singapore states:
Maybe it’s more of Sindhi gatherings than traditions [feeling Sindhi]. In
Singapore, I suppose, these would be the gatherings at [the] Sindhi Merchants’
Association, gatherings at the Singapore Swimming Club (the Sindhi hangout)
and the High Street Centre (where the Sindhi trading/import and export
businesses are). The Sindhis in Singapore are a small but closely-knit
community I’d say. We see lots of familiar faces during [the] Diwali Ball,
sometimes at Singapore Swimming Club and during weddings especially.117
Literature on Southeast Asia—which characterizes diaspora Sindhis as

having a ‘dense’ social network—echoes this view.118 Social networks
play an important role in promoting feelings of adequation. David
writes: ‘Interactions [among Malaysian Sindhis] are now more on a
social plane, at ceremonies like the chati (a naming ceremony for a
new-born), munan (a baby boy’s first hair cutting ceremony), birthdays,
engagements, and weddings.’119 Participating in such events can result
in intense social-network interactions that reaffirm adequation. In
Malaysia, this intensity is so great that diaspora Sindhis still practise
‘many of the customs and rituals described in the Government
Gazetteer of the Province of Sind, ’.120
117
Ibid., p. . High Street is no longer a centre for diaspora Sindhi businesses in
Singapore. For more about the Singapore community and an analysis of language shift,
see Maya Khemlani David, ‘The Sindhis of Singapore: Language Maintenance or
Language Shift’, Migracijske Teme .: pp. –.
118
David, Sindhis of Malaysia, p. ; Gal, in Language Shift, states that social networks in
Austria (as they do in Southeast Asia and other places) greatly influence people’s language
choices: ‘Social networks do not influence language use directly, but rather by shaping
people’s goals and their means of action. Particularly relevant here are the effects of
networks on the social categories with which speakers aim to identify themselves. Social
networks influence people’s communicative strategies when such identification is
expressed through speech. In turn, the power of social networks to constrain linguistic
presentation of self depends on the fact that social contacts associate certain linguistic
choices with particular social categories’ (pp. –).
119
David, Sindhis of Malaysia, p. . Other events mentioned by respondents to the
online survey include Cheti Chand (Sindhi New Year’s Day), Asa di Var (the  pauri or
stanzas of Guru Nanank), Diwali (the festival of lights), and eating vegetarian on
Mondays and full-moon days.
120
Ibid., p. .
 M A T T H E W A . C O O K A N D M A Y A K H E M L A N I D AV I D
Reaffirmed by non-linguistic factors, sentiments of adequation among

diaspora Sindhis promote strong in-group/out-group distinctions. In
Southeast Asia, diaspora Sindhis are often an insular community: ‘But,
for the most part, at least in the region with which I am concerned
[Asia], they [Sindhis] remain endogamous in marriage and social
intercourse, are confined to particular occupations, and show ethnic
cohesiveness born out of a fear of being absorbed by the
native populations.’121
Even when assimilated, non-linguistic factors remain important to
diaspora Sindhis for distinguishing themselves from other communities.
Despite Bahasa Indonesia now being their mother tongue, diaspora
Sindhis in Jakarta mark their identity as distinct by ‘restricting marriage
and social intercourse within the community’.122 The clustering of
Sindhi businesses in particular areas of Jakarta (such as Pasar Baru,
Kota, and Sunter) reflects the community’s desire to identify itself as
distinct.123 The residential patterns of diaspora Sindhis also reflect this
desire. Thapan writes: ‘“Kinship neighbourhoods” facilitate friendships
and social interaction within the community. Group activities are
characteristic of social life, even among the youth, and therefore, there
is constant peer pressure to conform.’124
These ‘kinship neighbourhoods’ characterize the residential patterns of
Malaysian diaspora Sindhis. In Kuala Lumpur, there are clusters of
Sindhi residences in the suburbs of Gombak and Brickfields-Bangsar. In
Penang, around  per cent of the city’s diaspora Sindhis live in the
neighbourhood of Tanjung Bungah, while  per cent live in Pulau
Tikus. Concerning this pattern of distinction in Malaysia, David
concludes that ‘the early patterns of residential clustering still remain …
local Sindhis tend to buy homes in the suburbs where other Sindhis
live’.125 This type of residential clustering is not exclusive to Southeast
Asia. It is also evident in India, where diaspora Sindhis—as in Malaysia
121
Thapan, Sindhi Diaspora, p. . Widespread after partition, endogamous marriages are
no longer as prevalent as they once were in some diaspora Sindhi communities (for
example, Malaysia).
122
Ibid., p. . This sense of distinctiveness is so strong that young diaspora Sindhis still
frequently consider their mother tongue to be Sindhi despite not being able to speak
the language.
123
Ibid., p. .
124
Ibid., p. .
125
David, Sindhis of Malaysia, p. . With recent shifts toward condominium living, this
type of residential clustering is now reduced in Malaysia.
LANGUAGE SHIFT AND IDENTITY REPRODUCTION 
—often mark themselves off from other communities by living in
particular neighbourhoods. Shaktinagar in Udaipur (Rajasthan) is one
such area. Sindhi Colony in Bangalore (Karnataka) and Secunderabad
in Hyderabad (Telangana) are additional examples. In Mumbai,
residential clustering occurs in the lower/middle-income suburb of
Ulhasnagar. In Mumbai’s expensive city centre, wealthy diaspora
Sindhis distinguish themselves by ‘colonizing’ apartment buildings or
housing societies rather than neighbourhoods.
Final comparative remarks: cultures and languages
Prasenjit Duara, in ‘Asia Redux: Conceptualizing a Region for Our

Times’, states that ‘for the twentieth century, the paradigm of
large-scale production of social space was the territorial nation-state’.126
He adds: ‘In the national model of space, there is an effort to make
culture and political authority congruent.’127 Driven by a sense of being
‘incongruent’, diaspora Sindhis fled the nation state of Pakistan after its
creation in . However, as refugees and linguistic minorities,
diaspora Sindhis mostly remained culturally incongruent with the
nation states to which they fled. In Language Shift and Cultural Reproduction,
Kulick states that such situations can lead to stigma and language shift:
The process of language shift is one in which a vernacular language becomes
closely linked to a stigmatized ethnic identity. Once this link becomes salient,
the possibility opens for members of the stigmatized group to signal their
abandonment of their ethnic identity by giving up their minority language in
favour of that spoken by the dominant groups.128
In the eyes of many diaspora Sindhis, partition remains a critical event

because it led to stigma, discrimination, and language shift. This shift
may have made some diaspora Sindhis more congruent with their
post-partition homelands, but it also produced language attrition and
feelings of identity loss. However, language does not solely determine
identity or its cultural reproduction among diaspora Sindhis.
In The Graves of Tarim, Engseng Ho illustrates how Handrami Sayyids in
the Indian Ocean region reproduce identity through genealogies that
126
Prasenjit Duara, ‘Asia Redux: Conceptualizing a Region for Our Times’, Journal of
Asian Studies .: p. .
127
Ibid., p. .
128
Kulick, Language Shift, p. .
 M A T T H E W A . C O O K A N D M A Y A K H E M L A N I D AV I D
circulate within their community’s diaspora rather than ‘simple linear

narratives that point back to origins’ in Yemen.129 Similarly, if one
emphasizes diaspora Sindhis’ cultural practices rather than their region
of origin, feelings of identity loss appear inconsistent with continuities
found in the spiritual life of the community. The denotational meanings
of religious texts and songs (such as the Guru Granth Sahib and Dhule Sai
assa Pujai) are usually fixed in the community by reciting them in their
original languages (such as Punjabi and Sindhi).130 However, the
languages used in lectures that explain texts and songs vary. By
code-switching (for example, to Hindi or English), diaspora Sindhis
utilize the locally most familiar language to pass down and continue
connotational meanings. This use of language echoes the community
using non-Sindhi Gorakhnath iconography (Gorakhnath was a Shiva
follower) to promote the worship of Jhulelal (the Indus River deity and
a Vishnu incarnation). Anita Ray argues that linking a widely known
Hindu yogi (Gorakhnath) to Jhulelal promotes cultural continuities that
‘strengthen community cohesion among second- and third generation
diaspora Sindhis’.131 In their study of Jhulelal worship in Pakistan and
India, Michel Boivin and Bhavana Rajpal describe similar continuities.
Their research finds that ‘despite the upheavals related to Partition and
the diversity of elements associated with Jhulelal’s tradition, it [Jhulelal
worship] still constitutes a continuum between Pakistan and India’.132
The fact that community members are generally unable to return to
Sindh informs this continuum. Notwithstanding feelings of loss,
Bhavnani writes that most do not view the region as ‘a place to which
they would wish to ultimately “return”, either as a physical homeland
or as an imaginary construct’.133 So, according to Bhavnani, the
community ‘arranged to “transplant”’ spiritual practices and sites (like
those of Jhulelal) from Sindh to India.134
129
Engseng Ho, The Graves of Tarim: Genealogy and Mobility across the Indian Ocean (Berkeley:
University of California Press, ), p. xxiv.
130
Ramey, Hindu, Sufi, or Sikh, pp. –.
131
Anita Ray, ‘Jhulelal, Gorakhnath, and the Hindu Sindhi Diaspora’, Journal of the
Oriental Society of Australia (): pp. –.
132
Michel Boivin and Bhavana Rajpal, ‘From Undero Lal in Sindh to Ulhasnagar in
Maharastra: Partition and Memories across Borders in the Tradition of Jhulelal’, in
Churnjeet Mahn and Anne Murphy (eds.), Partition and the Practice of Memory
(Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan ), p. .
133
Bhavnani, ‘Unwanted Refugees’, p. .
134
Ibid. While spiritual practices and sites may shift to India (and elsewhere), their
cultural meanings do not always stay the same. Rather than representing a
LANGUAGE SHIFT AND IDENTITY REPRODUCTION 
While language shift can lead to feelings of identity loss, the cultural
practices of diaspora Sindhis do not always support such sentiments.135
Even if ‘foreign’, these practices can enable identity reproduction.
Kulick illustrates this fact in Papua New Guinea, where he analyses the
shift from Taiap (a mother tongue) to Tok Pisin (a pidgin language). He
describes how people in the village of Gapun ‘do not really seem to
care very much that their language [Taiap] is dying out’.136 At the root
of this lack of concern is colonialism. Following this ‘critical event’,
colonial officials forced men from Gapun to work on plantations. The
lingua franca of these plantations was Tok Pisin and not Taiap.
Subsequently, Taiap became stigmatized in favour of Tok Pisin as the
preferred language for continuing to express male identity.137 In
Gapun’s increasingly male-oriented society, this preference resulted in
‘quasi-syncretic understanding of religion’, diaspora Sindhis frequently invoke Jhulelal to

confer ‘upon themselves a “normal” Hindu identity’ (Kothari, ‘Paradox of a Linguistic
Minority’, p. ).
135
Like diaspora Sindhis, Tamils experienced language shift and cultural continuities
after migrating to Malaysia (Lokasundari Vijaya Sankar, ‘Women’s Roles and
Participation in Rituals in the Maintenance of Cultural Identity: A Study of Malaysian
Iyers’, SEARCH: The Journal of the South East Research Center for Communication and the
Humanities .: pp. –). For a more in-depth analysis of Tamil identity and language in
the South Asian diaspora, see Sonia Das, Linguistic Rivalries: Tamil Migrants and
Anglo-Franco Conflicts (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ). For an analysis of language
shift and ‘identity retention’ among South Asians in South Africa, see Rajend Mesthrie,
‘Language Shift, Culture Change, and Identity Retention’, South African Historical Journal
(): pp. –). Despite socio-cultural differences with diaspora Sindhis, the
Parsi, Bohra, and Khoja communities are cases for comparison. For details, see Usha
Desai, ‘An Investigation of Factors Influencing Maintenance and Shift of the Gujarati
Language in South Africa’, Ph.D. diss., University of Durban,  (http://scnc.ukzn.ac.
za/doc/Lang/Desai_U_Investigation_Factors_Influencing_Maintenance_Shift_Gujarati_
Language_South_Africa_.pdf [accessed  December ]); Greg Thomson,
‘Language and Ethnicity Among a Group of Pentalingual Albuquerqueans’, Working
Papers of the Summer Institute of Linguistics, University of North Dakota Session  (): pp. –
; Payal Mohta, ‘The Quest Is on to Save a Dying Zoroastrian Language’,  June
 (https://www.ozy.com/rising-stars/the-quest-is-on-to-save-a-dying-zoroastrian-
language/ [accessed  December ]); Ali Jan Damani, ‘Nakhlanki Gita’, in
Karim H. Karim (ed.), Proceedings of the nd International Ishmaili Studies Conference: Mapping a
Pluralistic Space in Ishmaili Studies (Ottawa: Carlton University, ), pp. –; Geoffrey
Hill, ‘Dawoodi Borha Implementation of Meaning Making Methods for
Successful Establishment in Western Societies’, M.A. thesis, Uppsala University, 
(http://www.diva-portal.org/smash/get/diva:/FULLTEXT.pdf [accessed 
December ]).
136
Kulick, Language Shift, p. .
137
Ibid., pp. –.
 M A T T H E W A . C O O K A N D M A Y A K H E M L A N I D AV I D
language shift from Taiap to Tok Pisin among men as well as women.
Kulick’s analysis demonstrates how ‘the element of continuity in change
is essential to account for in cases of language shift’.138 In doing so, he
convincingly shows that language shift can lead to identity reproduction
rather than attrition.
If analysis places history, culture, and identity at the centre of the
diaspora Sindhi story of language shift, it becomes possible (for
example, as it did for Kulick) to illustrate how not speaking a mother
tongue can aid in the reproduction of identity. In Kulick’s view,
language shift is ‘caused, ultimately, by shifts in personal and group
values and goals’.139 The shift in diaspora Sindhi values and goals has
not been as rapid as their movement away from their mother tongue.
Although freighted differently in India and Southeast Asia, the pursuit
of capital and state power remains a core cultural modality for this
community. The interdisciplinary analysis of these modalities works to
retune not only the interval that geographically separates diaspora
Sindhis in India and Southeast Asia, but also the relationship between
language shift and cultural change.
138
Ibid., p. .
139
Ibid., p. .

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Modern Asian Studies () page  of . © The Author(s) .

Language Shift and Identity Reproduction among

North Carolina Central University

Topandas, the protagonist of Gobind Malhi’s Sindhi short story The

Identity, history, and language among diaspora Sindhis

Before partition in , non-Muslims constituted a signiﬁcant part of

Sindh, and  per cent in northern Sindh.11 Like other non-Muslims in

Daswani also describes second (and third)-generation diaspora Sindhis

Government of India, Ministry of Education, Notiﬁcation No. F /-D.I. (

Well-known diaspora Sindhi writers such as Kirat Babani and Popati

Jairamdas Daulatram, ‘Sindhu mein Devanagari Lipi’, Hindvasi, Bombay Edition

(October ); Ghanshyam Shivdasani, ‘Sindhi Bolia/Devanagari Lipi’, Hindvasi,

considerable merit. However, identity is culturally complex. In addition to

Carol McGranahan, ‘Ethnography Beyond Method: The Importance of an

History, identity, and language among diaspora Sindhis in

History, identity, and language shift

The origins of Southeast Asia’s Sindhi communities pre-date partition in

increasingly established smaller businesses that were less capital-intensive.

In Language Shift: Social Determinants of Linguistic Change in Bilingual Austria,

Grounded in a cultural modality based on the pursuit of capital,

Reproducing identity and replacing mother-tongue proﬁciency

possible [language] choices, in order to construct an utterance’.112 The

Other replies to our survey reﬂect this respondent’s sentiment of

Literature on Southeast Asia—which characterizes diaspora Sindhis as

Reafﬁrmed by non-linguistic factors, sentiments of adequation among

Final comparative remarks: cultures and languages

Prasenjit Duara, in ‘Asia Redux: Conceptualizing a Region for Our

In the eyes of many diaspora Sindhis, partition remains a critical event

circulate within their community’s diaspora rather than ‘simple linear

‘quasi-syncretic understanding of religion’, diaspora Sindhis frequently invoke Jhulelal to

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