Adil Najam

Thanks to the magic of internet search, our last ATP quiz was not difficult to decipher. Yes, it is Government College Lahore. The photograph was taken in December 1947 by LIFE magazine famous photographer Margaret Bourke-White, and is of freshmen students in a physics class. What made the picture interesting to me was that it was taken in 1947.

There is a whole series of photographs by Margaret Bourke-White of education in Pakistan, as witnessed by her camera lens in December 1947. The one of the left (above) is of the same class at Government College Lahore. The one on the right is of first graders in a school at Faizpur, near Lahore. They represent two faces of Pakistan’s “Class of 1947.”

In introducing the Quiz, I had hoped that we might get more detail on some of the people in the photograph or commentary on the fact that this was taken in 1947 itself. I hope we might get some of that discussion now. To aid this process, we present more photograph’s from Margaret Bourke-White’s collection on education in Pakistan.

All these photographs were taken in 1947. The ones in the block above include (L to R):

• Sind Moslem College, Karachi. Freshman English class. Note that this is co-educational, with girls sitting behind a partition (purdah) separating them from the boys.
• Village Elementary School, Fairpur, near Lahore. FIrst grade students studying under the open sky.
• Village Middle School, Burj Attari, near Lahore. Fifth and Sixth grade students studying in a joint class. Note the metal boxes in front of them.
• Home School, Burj Attari, near Lahore. Teachers tending First through Fourth grade girl students in a home school.
• Pakistani Women’s Education Conference, Karachi. A November 1947 educational conference on women’s education. Khadeeja Feroze Ud-din (2L), Deputy Directress of Public Instruction of West Punjab, in purdah.

In looking at all these different faces of Pakistan’s “Class of 1947″, what can we say about the Class of 1947? What was expected of it? What was delivered? What has changed? What has not? What was achieved? What lost?

Adil Najam

All Things Pakistan is going Tweets! Those of you who use Twitter and have written to us on this, do please join Pakistaniat at Twitter.

Keeping up with happenings in Pakistan is difficult enough. Keeping up with technology is more difficult. Yet, the miracle is that we have kept afloat despite occasional hiccups (here, here). We do now have a mobile version of Pakistaniat but we are probably behind on all sorts of other technologies. Well, we are finally (and belatedly) joining the world of Twitter and you can find us at https://twitter.com/pakistaniat.

We are still learning the ropes here and at this point will update Twitter each time there is a new post or something else we want to share with our regular readers. (We thought that sending tweets each time there is a comment would be excessive, but let us know if you think otherwise.) Who know, maybe as we learn things we can set up a social network of tweets to mirror our ATP discussions!

I should acknowledge, once again, that I would not even have known of Twitter had it not been for active Dr. Awab Alvi, an active Tweet Maestro. Whatever little I know about the technical side of blogging (and I know very little) I owe to friends I have made while blogging. S.A.J. Shirazi of Light Within, convinced me to move from the original wordpress site to our own domain. Awab Alvi, Teeth Maestro to his blogging freinds, guided me one step at a time through our first re-design, server move, and much much more. B.D. spent much of his summer of 2007 on skype with me as he designed this current version of ATP (what we call ATP 3.0).So many others have helped in so many other ways.

I say this partly because I think it is important to acknowledge one’s debts of gratitude. But also because once again I am stunned by the power of social networks of information exchange. I guess blogging is now, already, an ‘old’ medium … and ‘Tweeting’ may not remain a new medium for too long either.

P.S. You will also note that you can now sent a ‘Tweet’ about any post on ATP. You can do so by clicking on the ‘Send Twitter’ link, which appears right underneath the headline of the post.

Adil Najam

Karachi used to be called “the city that never sleeps.” It may as well now be called “the city that forever bleeds.”

Karachi is bleeding again. More than a dozen dead. 80 injured. The Sindh Home Minister says “shoot to kill.” And everyone expects more blood to spill on the streets of Karachi. Fear rules the thoroughfares of Karachi.

Here are some snapshots of what has been happening:

The News: Confusion and chaos reigned supreme in many parts of the city due to widespread rumours of violence in the city on Saturday evening. Shops and markets in Saddar, Zainab Market, Zebunnisa Street and Burns Road were closed. Besides, petrol pumps on Sharea Faisal and Saddar areas were also shutdown. Vendors and pushcarts selling eatables were also not seen near major streets of the area. Police mobile vans were seen patrolling the affected areas and personnel taking positions to thwart any law and order situation.

Daily Times: The riots started from Banaras, early on Saturday, when a driver and conductor of a local route were thrashed by a mob in Mosa Colony. As a result the aggravated locals started firing and resorted to violence. The riots spread like bush fire, engulfing surrounding areas where groups of angry protesters pelted stones and fired at cars, setting fire to many vehicles. Two rickshaws and motorcycles were burned at Pak Colony, two buses and two motorcycles in Ittehad Town, two tankers at Nagan Chowrangi and one water tanker in Qasba Morr.

The News: Naseeb, aged 22, said that he was travelling in a rickshaw when he was intercepted by four armed men riding motorcycles near Abdullah College. When Naseeb told the armed men that he was going home to Qasba Colony, one of the armed men took out his pistol and fired at him. After injuring him, the armed men fled from the scene. Safdar Khan, a 30-year-old minibus driver, said that armed men intercepted his vehicle near Qasba Mor No-1 and ordered all the passengers to get down. Afterwards, when Safdar was still in the bus, the armed men opened fire at him and set the vehicle ablaze. Muneer, a 23-year-old labourer, was going home towards Peerabad when unidentified gunmen opened fire at him and fled. Two other persons Inam Dar, aged 25, and Rose Zameer, aged 26, also sustained bullet injuries in Peerabad area and were brought to the JPMC.

The Nation: At 8:30pm on Saturday night, traffic was barely reported on the City’s main arteries including MA Jinnah road, Karachi University Road, Shahrah-e-Pakistan, Sir Shah Suleman Road, Shershah Soori Road, Shah Faisal Road, and other important roads. The public transport including buses, minibuses, rickshaws and taxies were disappeared from all the main thoroughfares when the violence news spread in different parts of the City. The transporters took off their vehicles due to fear of burning, while private commuters were also avoiding to come on the streets due to the rumours and fear… People were sending mobile messages to their relatives and friends about the effected areas as well as inquiring about the situation of settled other areas.

The News: A rickshaw driver, Nasir Mehmood, told The News that, early in the morning, he was strictly advised not to visit places like Banaras or Sohrab Goth at any cost and told that, if he ventured there, he would be targeted due to his ethnicity by the residents of those areas. “At Korangi Road, another fellow rickshaw driver refused to go to Orangi although he was offered almost double the normal fare; he still felt insecure travelling there,” said Mehmood. A resident of Manzoor Colony, Inaam-ul-Haq, told The News that he was scheduled to visit the Cattle Market situated on the Super Highway on Saturday to buy a sacrificial animal. “Due to the circulation of terrifying news, I decided to defer my plans to go there,” he said.

Dawn: According to a private television channel, Pirabad police said two unknown gunmen opened fire in the Bukhari Colony area of Orangi Town at about 2:30 p.m., killing two men and fleeing swiftly. Later, three bodies were brought to Orangi Town’s Qatar Hospital while injured were being treated in different hospitals around the city. One person was also killed during firing in the De Silva town area. Airports nationwide were put on red alert and the airports’ special passes were cancelled for security purposes, television reports said. The incidents of violence struck various parts of the city, including Banaras, Orangi Town, Quaidabad, North Karachi and Nazimabad.

Everyone seems to know the script of the drama that is about to unfold, yet again, on the streets of Karachi. Except that the deaths will be real, not make-believe. Those who will be doing the killing have been arming up. Those who will be doing the instigation have already upped their rhetoric of hate, division and violence. Those who will be doing the dying, remain on knife’s edge, hoping that they will not be called upon to be sacrificed in the rituals of ethnic murder, so close to the Eid of sacrifice. The rest sit stunned in inaction as the politics of mayhem readies to raise its ugly head yet again. We see Pakistani kill Pakistani in the name of Pakistan. We sit afraid. Very afraid.

When will this murder stop? Why must violence be the only resort? How much blood can the streets of Karachi soak? When will we learn that violence is not teh solution to our problems. It is the problem!

This is not my first post on Karachi that I am compelled to end with the prayer: “Khuda Khair Karray!” Indeed, I have had to use that refrain too many times for violence all over the country. Once again, I can think of nothing else to say. Except, maybe, that the “Khair” will first have to come from our own hearts and from our own actions.

Owais Mughal

After giving back-breaking HSc exams in 1988, a friend of mine and I decided to take a tour of Northern Pakistan. A relaxing week of mountain trekking in the ‘galliat’ was our high point. We were on our way back to Karachi when ‘lage haathoN’ (while at it) we decided to add Sialkot to our itinerary.

The Coaster:

On a fateful morning we reached the lobby of a Murree Road (now called Benazir Bhutto road) hotel which had the bus ‘adda’ (terminal) of Sialkot bound coasters. Our scheduled departure from Rawalpindi was at 8:00 a.m. but even by 8:30 a.m. there was no bus was sight. I went to the reservation clerk to inquire and he replied:

‘ji bus ka patta toot gaya hai. driver welding karaane le gaya hai’ (A belt has broken in the bus. Driver has taken it to get it welded)

We couldn’t understand what kind of belt required welding to get fixed but decided not to cross question the clerk. The bus finally came out of workshop at 11: 00 a.m and all ’sawariaan’ (passengers) made a dash to it. We started our travel to Sialkot at 11:30 a.m. via N5.

aur patta toot gaya!

After crossing the city of Gujar Khan, we had just made into the hilly Potohar region when we heard a loud bang and the coaster bus stopped. After sticking their necks into engine and after lots of whispering both driver and conductor declared the ‘patta’ (belt) was broken AGAIN!.

The conductor then said that bus had to be towed back to Rawalpindi and started giving fare money back to passengers. We were left stranded all by ourselves in the middle of no where.

Some stranded people started giving thumb-queues to passing vehicles and those which had vacancies started picking up passengers of their choice. All the ladies, children and elders got chosen by other buses and were accommodated. In the end the only ‘chaRay chaaNT’ passengers i.e. my friend and I were left standing and no bus stopped for us.

The railway track also runs parallel to N5 in this region and we could see some station (either Missa Keswal or Choa Kariala) some 500m from the highway. But in between there were hills and deep clefts and we couldn’t just walk across. Also I knew that no train would stop at the small station which we were seeing.

The Truck:

‘marte kia na karte’ I gave hand to a goods truck. The truck driver seemed like a gentleman and he stopped. My friend and I were accommodated in the front where as the cleaner who was sitting there immediately climbed up to open air ‘gallery seats’. I told the driver to take us to Wazirabad which was some 120 km. To this the driver replied:

‘Wazirabad to hum sham ko puhancheN ge’ (We’ll reach Wazirabad by evening).

Then he suggested that he’ll drop us at Sohawa which was 20 some kilometer away and from there we should try to find a faster mode of conveyance.

Now let me describe how the cockpit of a Pakistani goods truck looks like from inside. It is all covered in ‘bel-bootay’ (flowery designs), reflectors, mirrors, wood work, shiny plastic covered seats which are so slippery that it is hard to sit without sliding down. Inside the cockpit there were also duplicate turn indicators which were electrically connected to real indicators outside, so whenever the truck driver wanted to make a turn, the whole cockpit also blinked in orange light. Among all this decoration, one can find a small front shield (window). After discounting all the decoration, the transparent window area available for the driver to see road ahead was no more than 2 feet (L) x 6 inches (H). The blind spot for this Pakistani truck driver was roughly 340 degrees starting from the road edges in front. We were simply amazed how the driver was negotiating N5 in hilly area near Sohawa with this limited visibility.

Hidden inside a secret compartment of dashboard, there was a Hi-Fi sound system. It was kept hidden because traffic police occasionally ran campaign to confiscate or fine commercial vehicles who indulged in the practice of listening to music while driving. It was deemed dangerous for the public safety. The traffic police however, conveniently neglected the fact that a driver had only 20 degree vision out of front wind-shield window. This was perfectly ok and no threat to public.

mohabbat tou karta hai saara zamaana!

As our truck made its way through winding N5 near Sohawa, the truck started blaring loud music of Attaullah Khan Esa-Khelvi. As we were fresh out of college, we didn’t like to hear folk music. We were all into western music. INXs had recently came up with their big hit ‘Never Tear Us Apart’ . We asked the truck driver to play our INXS cassette but he refused. So the negotiated solution came out to play a fast paced Bollywood cassette. I gave him my cassette to play. After 3 or 4 songs, a song came with the verses

mohabbat tou karta hai saara zamaana
mohabbat hai kia, ye nahiN koi jaana

laga rog hum ko ye saddion purana
mein teri diwaani tu mera deewana

The truck driver liked this poetry so much that he immediately went into the state of wajjad (meta-physical state) and jhoom jhoom ke (by turning and twisting) started to repeat the verses after the singer. He liked the song so much that he asked us if he could keep this cassette. Since we were already indebted for giving us a ride to Sohawa, we happily gave him the cassette.

As we reached Sohawa, the truck driver dropped us off at the main Sohawa bazaar on N5. There were a few ford wagons and multicolor cars idling around the Sohawa bus-adda. None of the Ford wagons wanted to go to Sialkot that afternoon and the multicolor cars which were actually taxis were quoting us exorbitant fare of Rs 2000 from Sohawa to Sialkot. Their drivers were probably thinking we were ’shehri baboos’ with deep pockets. Well our pockets were deep but they were filled with our own fingers rather than any money. Rs 2000 in those days was a big deal. To have a comparison think about this; our whole tour to Northern Pakistan had cost us only Rs 1200 each.

The Bus:
As we were pondering what to do, a very crowded bus suddenly came from somewhere and it was getting ready to go somewhere. When I listened to the conductor, he was announcing bus’ departure to Faisalabad. These were pre-Motorway days and buses to Faisalabad took Gujranwala-Faisalabad route. So I thought, how about if we took this bus to Wazirabad. Atleast we’ll get closer to Sialkot. The bus was already crowded to the brim. Somebody took our luggage and without asking us, threw it to the luggage carrier at the top of the buss. Not knowing the culture of traveling in short distance inter-city buses, we shyly tried to put our feet inside the bus like a ‘nayee naveli dulhan in susraal’ (new bride at in-laws). There were already hundreds of feet present inside the bus and somebody pushed us from the back. We suddenly found ourselves standing inside the bus.

Levies ka chaapa:

The bus started to move and we started to breathe. Just after Kharian city, excise and taxation levies stopped the bus. They wanted to check the luggage for any smuggled goods. One of the law enforcers climbed the bus started flipping and tossing luggage where as other officers came in the bus and started looking at every one with menacing look while giving ‘taao’ (twist) to their moustaches. As one of them looked at me, I almost thought Maula Jutt is looking at me and next he is going to say ‘naway aaye ho soNReya’ (Are you a new kid on the block?). He didn’t say anything, and quietly alighted the bus.

Pir Sayeen shareef bus walay:

After this test was passed the bus started again. After few minutes a pir saeen suddenly realized (or decided) that his home had come. He stood up holding few leashes in his hand. I kid you not, those leashes actually had dogs bound to them at the other end. These dogs had so far been sitting quietly under the seats. As soon as people felt some brown bodies (dogs) moving around their ’shalwar’ bottom ends (paainchay), a complete pandemonium was let loose. Children climbed in fathers (or mothers) laps depending on who was closer, a few people grabbed the hand rails on the roof and lifted their legs up so dogs could pass underneath. Some people openly started talking bad to the pir sayeen who was oblivious to the whole worldly affair. He was probably living in 4th dimension and just happened to pass through this bus at that point in time along with his faithful disciples-in-leash. Anyways the bus stopped for him and pir sayeen took off along with the ‘rewar’ (flock/plurality) of dogs. I don’t remember their exact count but they were more than 2 for sure. I was particularly scared of their bites because ‘barking dogs seldom bite’ and this group had not barked once.

After this scene was over, people relaxed a bit and surprisingly we reached Wazirabad without any further incidence.

At Wazirabad bus-adda we changed to another bus for Sialkot. This Sialkot-bound bus had circular body therefore people who didn’t get seats had to stand by either bending their backs with the curve or else risk getting their heads poking out of the windows. See photo to the left. To say the least it was a complicated situation and I had to bend my 184 cm long body along with bus’ body curve like a lizard on the wall. We also call this situation to bow with respect.

This ‘bow down with respect’ terminology comes from PTV program Fifty-Fifty where in a class room setting Zeba Shahnaz asks her student (who was none other than Ismail Tara) that where did he learn to respect? To this Ismail Tara replies: ‘From Karachi’s omni buses’. Zeba Shahnaz asks “How is that?”. Ismail Tara then bends down in a repectful bow and replies:

‘Because that is how we travel daily in Omnibuses’

So back to Wazirabad-Sialkot leg of our travel. The bus was passing through lush green rice fields and the scene was out of a movie. I soon forgot all my misery of clinging to wall body like a lizard and started to enjoy the scenery outside.

The bus made a short stop at a town called Sambrial. An exchange of passengers took place and we were on our way to Sialkot again. We reached Sialkot at dusk time. The ‘bus adda’ was in Sialkot city and we were supposed to go the cantonment.

The Tonga:

Our next mode of transport was a tonga (horse cart). This tonga took more passengers along the way and an overloaded horse started to walk slowly on the pot-holed road. The horse was walking with his face down as if thinking about his fate and tired from his daily labor.

’shraaap’ came the sound of a hunter from tonga driver and the poor horse started to canter. There was a non-populated area between Sialkot city and cantonment where we got attacked by a blanket of blood-thirsty mosquitoes.

These mosquitoes were coming in waves like a ‘taddi-dal’ (locust swarm) and we had to hide our bare arms and face to save us from their involuntary injections. The mosquito usually attack with a sound which follows the Physics rule of ‘doppler effect’ like: ‘oooo….OOOOO…..oooo’

Since we were pre-engineering students and had recently ‘rattofied’ (remembered by heart - without understanding) the notes on Doppler Effect, so we got better in ducking the incoming hordes of mosquitoes.

Soon the road condition and street lighting got better as we entered the cantonment area, and finally reached our destination.

It took us almost 12 hours to cover the 235 km Rawalpindi-Wazirabad-Sialkot distance. I think this is the longest anybody has ever taken to travel this route. Any challengers to my claim of fame out there?

Photo Credits

1. Farhan Khan for Associated Press of Pakistan
2. kaafoor at flickr.com
3. Geo2net at flickr.com
4. nm_fiber at flickr.com

Adil Najam

I, too, am a Mumbaikar today.

I wish I could reach out and for just one moment hold the hands of the woman in this AP photograph. Maybe shed some tears on her shoulder. But I do not know what I would say to her. I do not think she would want me to say much. The expression on her face matches the feeling I have at the pit of my stomach and in the depth of my heart. I think - I hope - that she would understand how I feel. I can only imagine what she is going through.

And so, in prayer and in solidarity, I stand today with Mumbaikars everywhere. In shock at what has happened. In fear of what might happen yet. In anger at those who would be so calculated in their inhuman massacre. In sympathy with those whose pain so hurts my own heart but whose tears I cannot touch, whose wounds I cannot heal, and whose grief I cannot relieve.

The solidarity I feel with Mumbaikars is deep and personal.

The first time I ever visited the Taj Mahal Hotel was with my wife. We had been married just weeks and were not staying at the Taj but went to the historic “Sea Lounge” at the hotel for tea and snacks during a short visit to Mumbai. We went to the Oberoi Hotel the same visit in the naive and mistaken belief that we would find Bollywood bigwigs hanging out there. In later years I would come back and stay at the old wing of the Taj - down the corridor from where Ruttie Bai Jinnah and stayed - I would even present in the grand ballroom whose pillars, supposedly, had been brought from her father’s estate. Each time I passed through Victoria Terminus I stood in awe of the pace as well as its presence. In awe of the architectural structure, but also of the sea of humanity around me. I cannot hear of terrorists attacking these places without my own muscles twitching in anger.

But my feeling of solidarity with Mumbaikars is much much more personal than these few fleeting visits over many years. Deeply etched into me are the horrific echoes of 9/11 in New York and the string of terrorist attacks on Islamabad, Karachi, Lahore, Quetta, Peshawar and all over Pakistan whose reports have become all too familiar - but never bearable - on this blog. I know what living with terror feels like. I have thought too much and too deeply about what it feels like to be the target of violence propelled by hatred. I know the pain of helplessness one feels as one stands stunned in grief, wanting so desperately to do something - anything - but not knowing what to do. This is why I identify with the expression on the face of the woman in this picture. This is why, like so many others in the world, today I too am a Mumbaikar.

This is why I stand with Mumbaikars everywhere, in prayer and in solidarity. At a loss for words but with an urge to speak out. My words of condemnation will not change the actions of those who have committed such heinous murder and mayhem. Nor will my words of sympathy diminish the agony of the victims. But speak out I must. In condemnation as well as in sympathy. To speak against the inhumanity of hatred and violence. To speak for the humanity in all of us that we all must hold on to; especially in the testing moments of grave stress.

But, today, I have no words of analysis. What words can make sense of the patently senseless? I do not know who did this. Nor can I imagine any cause that would justify this. But this I know: No matter who did this, no matter why, the terror that has been wrought in Mumbai is vile and inhuman and unjustifiable. And, for the sake of our own humanness, we must speak out against it.

And, so, to any Mumbaikar who might be listening, I say: “I stand with you today. In prayer and in solidarity.”