Book Review: ‘Our Lady of Alice Bhatti’ by Mohammad Hanif More than anything, the book adequately highlights the incredibly sombre state of affairs for a working woman from the wrong side of the class divide
Sunday, 04 September, 2011
Caricatured,
yet incredibly evocative This is the story of a woman with a troubled past, a troubled present, and an uncertain future; and this is how it lingers on in both imagination and conscience
“I
By Umair Javed
she knows that all the preparation – her haphazard, which could leave certain starched white uniform, the new file, readers exasperated. But the minute a faint smudge of mud-brown lipstick, it settles back into a more familiar, breathing exercises she had done to metronomic rhythm, one realizes the control her jumpy heart, even the importance of induced, methodical banana she ate on the bus to stop her chaos to this particular narration. It is, stomach from rumbling – all seems like after all, based in a considerably volatile wasted investment, halal money down urban environment. the haram drain, as her father Joseph Despite the insistence in branding Bhatti had put it.” this tale as a love story, the author’s From the moment it starts off with channeling of dark undertones becomes this fly-on-the-wall, lens-inside-the- much more accentuated in this book. head account of Alice’s interview for a In fact, it doesn’t take much to realize nursing position, right till the last word that his two works have very little in of Joseph Bhatti’s open letter to the common. Chuckles and sniggers gained Vatican, the story weaves itself through at the caricaturing of a derided dictator both imagination and conscience. There in the first one give are times when the plot Excerpt: ‘Our Lady of Alice Bhatti’ by Mohammad Hanif p ro g re s s io n a p p e a r s chaotic, See page 4 bordering on
‘This whole place is a big Charya Ward’
Illustrated & Designed by Javeria Mirza
With Hanif, the functionality of reflecting a society’s contradictions, quirks, and un-captured narratives comes by default
M
ohammed Hanif is a member of a dying breed. An ominous introduction for a much revered man but a fairly accurate one nonetheless. A part of the generation that gained consciousness under Gen. Zia, he remains one of the few truly bi-lingual writers in present-day Pakistan. More than that, the richness of his personal experiences, from his childhood in Okara, to a cadet in the Air Force and then as a journalist in Karachi with Newsline,
and later on with the BBC in London, contribute to his ability in creating vivid narratives that engage with the reader’s sense of familiarity and curiosity. Nearly every writer would go to great lengths to stress the objective, and purely essential nature of his or her writing, but with Hanif, the functionality of reflecting a society’s contradictions, quirks, and un-captured narratives comes by default. This, of course, takes nothing away from the gift of enthralling his readership with gripping storylines and dynamic characters. His first novel, ‘A Case of Exploding Mangoes’, was long-listed for the Booker prize, shortlisted for the Guardian’s
First book Award and the Commonwealth Literary Prize and won the Shakti Bhatt First Book Awards. Many would agree that this was more than just a nice haul of accolades for a debutant. Hanif’s work, both journalistic and fiction, is a much-needed bridge between two mediums growing mutually insulated as a result of the language divide. The privatization of education, the suburbanization and atomization of public spaces, means that a suburban kid growing up in Lahore or Karachi could very well spend most of his life without being introduced to the literary or journalistic
heritage that previous generations have cultivated. In such times where television talk shows become the item of choice for popular consumption, and compilation of works by polemical warriors get sold as ‘books’, Hanif is a thoroughly refreshing alternative. One can only hope and pray, that there will be others in times to come. –Umair Javed
Our Lady of Alice Bhatti By Mohammed Hanif. Random House India 240 pp, Rs. 499, To be released: September 2011
Hanif’s is a thoroughly refreshing alternative. One can only hope and pray, that there will be others in times to come
2 Dude, where’s my revolution? 8 The past is another country
t’s a love story about a girl who has a troubled past and is trying to resume her life. She looks for a job, finds one and then falls in love and like it happens in real life, she falls for the wrong guy. It’s their story.” At the very heart of it, Our Lady of Alice Bhatti is a love story. The revelation of this heart, however, is a slow, fairly gradual process that appears almost secondary till the final two, maybe three, chapters of the book. Till then, it seems as if the romance between Teddy Butt and the eponymous Alice Bhatti is an add-on for both these individuals, while they grapple with their respective lives – hers as a fresh-out-of-jail nurse
at Sacred Heart Hospital, and his as an informal police tout working with the ‘G-Squad’. A host of other characters, consisting of Alice’s eccentric father Joseph Bhatti, a sweeper for the Municipal Corporation and part-time ulcer healer, Sister Hina Alvi, Alice’s rather stoic, paan-eating immediate superior, Teddy’s boss, the rather sage-like Inspector Malangi, and seventeen year old Noor, who works as a jack-of-all-trades at the hospital, ensure the right amount of complexity to the narrative. “Less than three minutes in front of the interview panel and Alice Bhatti knows in her heart that she is not likely to get the job advertised as Replacement Junior Nurse, Grade 4. A sharp tingling in the back of her neck warns her that not getting the job might not even be the worst thing that could happen here. No questions have been asked yet, but
y m ’ s e r e h , w e d Du ? n o i t revolu
d why despite an – n o ti lu vo re i an st ki Pa Egyptian style an g n si es n it w f o ty ili ib ss elihood of this lik e tl Ruminations on the po lit is e er th t, ac tr n of the Social Co the complete breakdown have to get for us to finally
By Fatima Akram Hayat
E
ver since the world saw Arab nations erupt, the question b e c a m e inevitable: Would the Arab revolution spread to Pakistan? After all, Pakistan is a Muslim country facing all of the issues that its Arab counterparts faced – corrupt authoritarian leaders, lack of justice, an ever-increasing gap between the rich and poor and a disillusioned youth. Unfortunately, Pakistan’s list of problems does not e n d
there. It seems endless. We have it all: religious, ethnic and sectarian factionalism, terrorism, radicalism, corruption, floods, earthquakes, riots, bomb blasts, McDonald’s – you name it, we got it. T h e condition of the Paki s ta ni state’s
‘social contract’ with its citizens is in a dismal state. If Hobbes was alive to witness this, he’d be writhing in agony. The state has stopped providing security to the lives and property of its citizens and the citizens have stopped trusting the state, reflected in not paying taxes to sustain it. Thus we witness a kind of anarchy and lawlessness that would normally pave the way for a social revolution. Why hasn’t there been a revolution in Pakistan? Watching the news makes one feel like we are far worse than Egypt or Tunisia in all social, economic and political aspects. How much more can things deteriorate? H o w unstable w i l l things
bounce back? Most importantly, will there ever be a revolution in Pakistan? If so, what kind? The clean Egyptian sort or the bloody French sort? Would our revolution be a political one or religious, economic or social? Ironically, our Vladmirs and Estragons are not the farmers, the poor, the marginalised sectors of society or the middle classes. The ones who are waiting for Godot here seem to be the upper class ‘burger babies’ who believe in an idealistic revolution – where the police will pat the revolutionaries on their backs, while a cool breeze keeps
The much-touted FCR reforms are the result of political manoeuvring and obscure the ground realities which are more or less in keeping with the past state of affairs By Khan Shehram Eusufzye
02 - 03
Sunday, 4 August, 2011
O
n August 13, 2011, the President, in consultation with all the stakeholders of the Fata Reforms Committee, signed two orders which were (on the face of it) geared towards bringing a change in the status of the Federally Administered Tribal Areas (FATA). As per these orders, certain amendments were made to the Frontier Crimes Regulation (FCR) and the Political Parties Order of 2002 was extended into the Federally Administered Tribal Areas (FATA) region, allowing political parties to operate and function in the region. These moves have once again brought the region into the domain of public debate. Once again a lot is being written and said on the socio-economic and political aspects of the area but unfortunately, most of it is lacking real insight. In fact, such opinionated features on the region can be dangerous, diverting the audience’s attention from the core issues. The region still occupies public imagination as an ‘Elaqae-Ghair’, largely comprising of a bunch of unruly, militantly inclined tribes. Rather than mitigating this understanding, popular discourse has furthered this understanding and
there is much confusion about the legal status of this area, the socioeconomic make-up and the role of the military. The reforms have been highly lauded in the media as a positive step but are they really sufficient? Keeping this in mind, the article seeks to analyze the reforms to the FCR and discuss whether they offer any real, meaningful change to the area.
Background
The FATA comprises of seven independent tribal agencies of Bajaur, Mohmand, Kurram, Khyber, North Waziristan and South Waziristan and six frontier regions. The region is being administered through the FCR, a special set of rules and regulations enacted by the British Raj which were devised to keep in check the restive tribal areas so that they wouldn’t prove to be a ‘hassle’ for the colonialist while the latter ruled the subcontinent. Ever since then the FCR has kept the tribals isolated from the rest of Pakistan and under a perplexing legal status. Such is the case with FATA that even the constitution of Pakistan 1973 seems confused over its status. According to article 1 of the constitution FATA is described as a part of Pakistan. Similarly, Article 247 Clause 3 curtails the acts of Parliament from being applicable to the region until and unless the president of Pakistan directs. In Article 247 clause 7 the area
is barred from the jurisdiction of the Supreme Court of Pakistan and High court of Khyber Pakhtoonkhwa but allows the Parliament to make laws in this regard whereas previously it is clearly mentioned that the Parliament has no jurisdiction in the Tribal areas.
The politics of it
The Government used the media to popularize their ‘landmark achievement,’ all the while keeping under wraps the political motives dictating this move. These reforms surfaced after the government granted the army with the Action (in Aid of Civil Power) Regulation 2011, Pakistan’s own version of the Patriot Act, which provides a legal cover to the high-handedness of state elements while they fight against militancy. As per this law, military officials have been endowed with the power to detain any individual suspected of involvement in terrorist activities. Also in blatant contravention of Pakistan’s evidentiary requirements (Qanun-eShahadat), the sole evidence of a single military officer is to be considered sufficient for a conviction. In a report filed by Pakistan Today, some concerned
tribal leaders went so far as to term it ‘crueler than the FCR’ and stressed how extremely susceptible it was to abuse by the relevant authorities. The military’s worn out stance of “winning the hearts and minds,” of the locals remains a far away cry in the presence of this regulation which allows them to walk scot-free even after inhumane treatment such as the burning down of properties of the locals on flimsy charges. The constitution of the country which under article 14, clause 1 and 2 clearly states that the dignity of man and, subject to law, the privacy of home, shall be inviolable and that no person shall be subjected to torture for the purpose of extracting evidence. Such blatant disregard for fundamental human rights and an unyielding authority to ham fist the locals will further heighten the level of hatred. So while on the one hand the government has been patting itself on the back for the reforms, in the same breath
Potent forces including the intelligence agencies, the army, foreigners and the bureaucracy are the elements which oppose a change in the region.
temperatures at the optimal level. These YOungsters, while they watch ‘America’s Next Top Model’ and munch on expensive tortilla chips, might pause for a minute and wonder: Hey, whatever happened to my revolution, dude? Within the next minute they will stop wondering, start blaming the system, corrupt politicians and bureaucrats for the mess and resume plans to apply for Canadian citizenship to make a quick getaway. It is true that we are a nation of deeply divided people and we never run out of excuses to create further divides amongst ourselves. We even shift our identities according to the situation at present, just to make more enemies. It’s the fetish of our entire nation. Mohajirs, Pathans and Sindhis are ready to die and kill on the basis of ethnicity in Karachi. In one moment, we are ‘Lahoris’ and ‘Sialkotis’ and in the other,
we are Punjabis against the Sindhis. I am a woman when I’m in an office full of men, I am a Muslim when in a room full of Jews, I am a Pakistani when I go abroad. These shifting, opposing identities based on sectarian, religious, ethnic and sometimes just-for-the-heck-of-it reasons, and the political maneuvering and exploitation based on these divides create a situation where these people find it extremely hard to unite against the real enemy. When someone has so many enemies, they fail to recognise the biggest threat to their being. If the average Mohajir has to fight the Pathans every day, he has little time left to worry about where his state’s budget is going. He has little time to worry about the lawlessness and barbarity of his surroundings. He has little time to question his institutions and government. He has little time for anything, really. He has concerns of his own: to kill every Ahmedi, every Shia, every Pathan, every non-Muslim, every Mohajir… oops, not the Mohajirs. Unless all others are killed and there’s none left, then he’ll come to the Mohajirs. While this may be a bottleneck in the way of a social revolution, I believe it is not in itself the underlying reason. A revolution from bottom to top can come when the people are persecuted, denied justice, tortured and let down for so long that they are ready to give up their lives in exchange for change. But do we Pakistanis wait that long? No. We escape t h e system.
We escape the laws. Police officer is corrupt? We bribe. Caught someone stealing? We invite our neighbors and beat them to death. Our sister ran away with her boyfriend? No problem, we find her and kill them both. Caught breaking traffic rules? We call our powerful daddies. Don’t have enough to eat? We steal. We attack people, snatch their phones, sell them and buy food – or whatever. No job? So what? We join the honorable institute of Al-Qaeda or Taliban International (Pvt Ltd). We rob banks, we cheat on exams, we steal exam papers, we mug innocent people, and we break the law like it never existed. The truth is we do not stand up because we do not have the courage to stand up. We cannot question our leaders, our landlords, our industrialists, our bureaucracy, our traffic police officers, our lawyers or even our fruit vendors because we know we are no less. We do not have moral superiority over the corrupt or over the thief, because we are corrupt ourselves. If corruption is so rampant in our institutions, it’s the people who have kept this tradition alive. They bribe, because they need a short cut from the system, and then they complain about corruption. Our police, our revenue collectors, our judiciary, our politicians, our entire legal and bureaucratic system might be outdated, corrupt and inherently flawed but that does not discredit it from being the system. You want to change the system, you follow the law, and you follow the system and then point out and change what is wrong with it. You cannot bribe the corrupt, u s e your connections to escape the red-tapism, beat or lynch accused thieves, break traffic laws, migrate abroad the first chance you get, take justice in your own hands and then expect a revolution. Change is brought by people with a clear conscience. Change is brought by people who truly believe in something and are on a high moral ground. If people had the pain in their hearts of being wronged by the system and a will to change it, unity would
no longer be an issue. On that basis, I do not predict a clean revolution in Pakistan based on the Egyptian model. We have the ingredients of a revolution, but we channel our frustrations through violence, and through applauding violence. We do not channel our frustration through protest, through writing, through patience and through an honest demand for change. Everyone is surviving or doing their best to survive in the jungle that Pakistan has become today. A revolution requires sacrifice. The elites are not willing to sacrifice anything because a social revolution most definitely goes against all their interests. They do not want the middle and lower classes to rise up, they do not want the masses to get educated, and they do not want equality. The masses alternate between fighting each other, and watching TV shows to check whether brushing their teeth will break their fast. We are disillusioned, corrupt, deceiving escapists and thus we fall for demagogues who promise quick fixes to all our problems. We elect leaders who are a bigger version of ourselves and how can we rebel against something that is present in our own hearts? We don’t rise up to change the status quo because we don’t have a clear conscience. There are no quick fixes to things, and we don’t want to take the long and difficult route. Pakistan is the nearest a country can be to the Hobbesian state of nature. For the majority, life here is ‘nasty, bruttish and short’. Although I do not see a social or economic revolution in the near future, and a political revolution would be nothing short of useless, I do believe, and fear, a religious revolution. The instability and religious dramas we see, the appalling rates of illiteracy and the increasing obsession with cartoons like Amir Liaquat Hussain seem to be leading us to an even worse future. In this milieu, one shudders to think, that the revolution Pakistan will get to see will be like the Iranian one. If we do not correct our ways, if we do not suffer, suffer and suffer more till we rise up with the moral strength and courage required for uniting and bringing change, I fear we will sink deeper down the spiral. We do not need a demagogue. We need to be the change we want to see in this country. We need to be our own revolution.
and elevating its status to that of a high court gives the region some semblance of a judicial authority yet the Government should have tried to separate the role of the political agent from the FATA tribunal. In the past the political agents enjoyed the role of being both the executive and judiciary and have retained their powers to affect the outcome of a decision which out rightly deprives the people from their right to a free and fair trial. Hence the right of appeal against the high handedness of the administration granted to the people in these piecemeal reforms has been snatched right back. This further drags the reforms into the realm of ambiguity with many wondering how the locals can realistically enjoy any rights in the absence of a leash on the authority of the political agent. Many Human Rights organizations working in FATA were pressing the government to integrate them into the legal framework of the country so that the people who have been denied their basic right of contesting their cases could appeal decisions in the Supreme Court. Yet no such change has been made. These organizations accuse the government of subjecting a certain portion of its land to laws which are in direct contravention to the constitution of the country as well international laws to which they are signatory.
What could have been done?
the bottom of the matter and address the ground realities. These recent amendments clearly show that the opinions from the majority are still not really coming across from within FATA. A stable FATA can serve as Pakistan’s gateway to the developing market of Afghanistan and the resource-rich Central Asian Republics. To achieve these goals, using FATA as a playing field or backyard in the Great Game should immediately end. Potent forces including the intelligence agencies, the army, foreigners and the bureaucracy are the elements which oppose a change in the region. Such elements must be curtailed as they are proving to be the biggest obstacles in the path to attaining peace in the region, perhaps because a peaceful FATA might not serve their interests.
The ones who are waiting for Godot in Pakistan seem to be the upper class ‘burger babies’ who believe in an idealistic revolution – where the police will pat the revolutionaries on their backs, while a cool breeze will keep temperatures at the optimal level
it has also introduced a law that fundamentally deprives the people of due process of law. These contradictory government stances undertaken are evidence of the continuous step-motherly treatment from the federation towards FATA. Thus despite addressing certain portions of the FCR, it maintains the ideology that these laws embody and even takes this a step forward.
The actual changes
One of the most highly criticized features of the FCR by human rights organizations is that of ‘collective responsibility’ which holds an entire tribe, clan or family responsible for alleged actions of an individual. While under the reforms the scope for this law has been reduced, limiting it to immediate family members and restricting its applicability to women over 65 and children under 16, yet the law in itself has been retained which is an absurd and oppressive law. Section 40, dealing with the detention of suspected terrorists has been amended to reduce the maximum detention period from 3 years, to 2 years. Whereas, the lockups or modern day dungeons run by the Political agents and their subordinates have been opened for inspection to NGO’s working in the region such order does not apply to the elusive army run prisons. The introduction of a retired judge into FATA tribunal
What could have rekindled the tribals’ hopes and aspirations and would have been helpful in winning back their confidence were simple steps like providing security to the locals, prevention of violence, supplying swift and fair justice and creating urban centers. The government should have set up a development council for FATA where the people along with the government officials would have resumed administrative control of the region and owned the development process in their areas. This would have limited the role of the army which is neither been trained nor has the insight to bring about an economic or political change. Instead, under the FCR Act, the military’s continued presence in the region is termed as ‘necessary’ and given legal cover. Similarly, the government missed out on the demographic shifts taking place in the region. A majority of the youth population who could easily fall into the miscreants hands were totally ignored in the reforms and no special package was announced for projects specifically targeting the youth. Independence has remained an elusive myth for the tribal people and the development mantra of the previous governments in the region is nothing but a farce. To correct this image the government needs to get to
Eleven stories, an almost novel A journalist writes about journalism. How exciting…
the review
By Anum Yousaf ou’re setting yourself up for unemployment,” was what I heard most when I started working for a newspaper. The irrelevance of this comment in the Pakistani context notwithstanding, this soundbite rings true for every character in Tom Rachman debut ‘The Imperfectionists’ set around a declining newspaper business. It tells the story of 11 characters – 10 of them staffers and one a long time reader –alongside that of the international paper headquartered in the city of Rome which folds too as the novel folds. The newspaper profession is in a state of flux; thus it seems like the perfect backdrop for a modern novel. The characters lives are changing and so is their world in perfect concomitance: it’s the perfect ‘objective correlative’ to the splitting-at-the-seams lives of the characters. The trope is employed for maximum effect in ‘The Imperfectionists’ as the crumbling business does serve as a note-perfect setting for the narrative. The novel is built prismatically, each chapter focusing on one of the characters and each chapter is bookended by interludes – snippets of the story of the mercurial publisher and the real reason the paper was established which is revealed (a
Sunday, 04 September, 2011
nugget of storytelling with crisp prose, pacey movement, economy of wit, incredibly detailed characterisation and its own snappy title to boot. Rachman runs with the saying ‘write what you know’ because he was a worker for the International Herald Tribune himself and there is no denying that the novel is imbued with a great degree of authenticity. The buzz of the newsroom, the clickety-clack of the press, the drudgery of copy-editing, the reporter’s rush of being onto a lead and the-soon-tofollow lede, the The Imperfectionsts dread of the By Tom Rachman deadline, the megalomania 272 pp. The Dial of the fickler editor, the obsessive-compulsiveness of the Blomkvists of the world who are stickler editor, the scrambling of the badasses disguised as journalists callow foreign correspondent and in pulpy literature nowadays. the bragging and hyperbole of the There’s also novels like the Hunter S experienced foreign correspondent; Thompson’s tome ‘Fear and loathing it’s all there and sketched with in Las Vegas’, Evelyn Waugh’s ‘Scoop’ meticulousness. and John le Carre’s ‘The Honuorable He also avoids the trapping of Schoolboy’ that chronicle only the painting journalism as something ‘glamourous’ aspects of journalistic that it is not. There are Mikael reporting while not concerning with
Rachman runs with the saying ‘write what you know’ because he was a worker for the International Herald Tribune himself and there is no denying that the novel is imbued with a great degree of authenticity that leaves a little bit to be desired. It seems like the novel is a collection of 12 short stories and it was turned into a novel at a brilliant afterthought of the editor. This isn’t novel, it a short story collection that’s an almostnovel. The stories aren’t that tightly woven together and the sequencing seems random. That having been said, each story in itself is a very satisfying
Press. $25
Collected poetic works of Murtaza
Murtaza Birlas’ may be termed as the poetry of protest also – protest against the rigid social con
By Syed Afsar Sajid
04 - 05
tad anti-climactically as it was predictable from the very start) in the dénouement. The idea in theory is great: One chapter per person focusing on the here and now. And interludes between the chapters acting as in-betweening asides to slowly unravel the history of the paper. You get multiple perspectives and add a little depth to the story and unruffled complication to the narrative structure. But a great idea needs execution and
M
urtaza Birlas is a celebrated poet. As an erstwhile bureaucrat, he surmised, perhaps ironically, that he was (taken for!) a poet among the fraternity of bureaucrats and a bureaucrat among the fraternity of poets as his famous couplet would suggest: DostoN kay halqay maiN hum wo kaj muqaddar haiN / AfsaroN maiN sha’ir haiN, sha’iron maiN afsar haiN. His poetic virtuosity, however, would seem to negate the paradox. Abbas Tabish, himself a noted poet and an ardent admirer nay disciple of Murtaza Birlas has compiled the present anthology of his works viz., Taisha-e-Karb, Irte’ash, Izterar, Girah-e-Neem Baz and Takmilah (comprising the latter part of his poetry not yet published in book form). The collection also incorporates excerpts from the views and opinions
of the poet’s peers and contemporaries in regard to his person and poetry. Murtaza Birlas seems to think that poetry combines both beauty and truth. Poets do not simply ‘make’, they ‘speak’ also. Gifted with creative insight and a fair knowledge of the human psyche, they can think and feel vicariously what their fellow beings do. Thus poetry ceases to be a matter of self indulgence for them and instead becomes a social obligation motivating them to study the human situation from different angles, acute and obtuse, and pronounce their observations on its bright and bleak aspects, of course within the aesthetic frame-work of their calling. Thus they assume the role of a mentor or guide seeking to resolve the dilemma that life is for the benefit of their readers. Redress of poetry is the updated version of this process. Viewed in this context, Murtaza Birlas’s poetry seems to have its roots in the socio-economic milieu of our times. It may be termed as the poetry of protest also – protest against the rigid social conventions dictating our manners and morals. At times his frustration leads him to outcry his grievances arising from social injustice, economic disequilibrium, moral intemperance and political immoderation. His involuntary loud accent at places, itself explains the
phenomenon. He adroitly employs the medium of ghazal to vent his burning disquiet ensuring at the same time that its reverberations would not disturb or offend the artistic format or finesse of the genre. Hum haiN fankar maqabir kay mo’arrakh to nahiN / Humko hota hai jo mehsus wo kyuNkar na kahaiN. The compiler has glorified (and rightly so!) the person and work of the poet in his inspiring foreword to the book. Apart from the individual prefaces/forewords to the constituent collections from literary men like Ahmad Nadeem Qasmi, Ehsan Danish, Fakhruddin Balley and Dr Muhammad Ali Siddiqi, opinions of poets, litterateurs and literary critics namely, Faiz Ahmad Faiz, Qateel Shifai, Zahoor
Title: Kulliyat-e-Murtaza Birlas Compiler: Abbas Tabish Publisher: Al-Hamd Publications, Rana Chambers, Chowk Purani Anarkali, Lahore Pages: 584 Price: Rs.700/-
the mundane activities that go into bringing a paper out. This book is in that sense a holistic look at the publishing business. It talks of amongst others, the reporter, the copyeditor, the editor, the publisher and even a reader. But it’s not just the professional lives of the characters being drafted, it’s their personal lives (or lack thereof) too. There’s Lloyd Burko, the out-ofjuice ageing reporter who just can’t get a story; when he is onto something, he’s really not onto something but actually onto a troubling personal revelation. There’s Kathleen Solson, the hardas-nails editor who left her life somewhere along her climb to the top. There’s Herman Cohen, the supervising editor and r e s i d e n t grammar Nazi with all his quirks and memos and tirades about egregious solecisms (such as putting Tony Blair in a list of deceased J a p a n e s e dignitaries; even I’ve never done that and I’ve written $500million as $500). There’s Ruby Zaga, the Little Miss Lonelyhearts copyeditor stuck in a rut. There’s Winston Cheung, the Cairo stringer who’s stuck with the verbally diarrheic Snyder, a hustling embedded reporter with his tall tales about ‘sleeping with the
Tali-ban’ and egotistical whinging. There’s Ornella de Monetrecchi, a modern day Miss Havisham who reads the newspaper from cover to cover like a book in order and refuses to move on to the next’ days paper (and even religiously avoids seeing the next day’s paper to avoid spoilers!) until she’s finished with the last. She’s still reading the papers of 1994 in 2011. There’s four or five other characters, each beset with their own sets of traits and travails. The characterisation is first rate and some of the stories are very absorbing and quite funny. Like that of Abbey Pinnola, the finance department downsizer saddled with the unfortunate
thus shorn of any sense of self-importance which makes them more poignant. Rachman has very brusque prose. It’s like watching a movie with smash cuts and crisp editing. In fact, the novel reads like a screenplay. It’s quite fast-paced and the reportage-style writing gives it a further edge of swiftness and urgency. Rachman’s journalistic past is stamped all over his prose as he writes with economy and has a turnof-phrase that can only be developed in the bowels of a newsroom or the op-ed desk. This makes the novel a very breezy read. What was also good was that he didn’t let the canvas that he used (i.e. of the newspaper business) overpower the actual narrative. There’s that ever-present antediluvian sense of something about to end but that’s about it. He doesn’t delve at all into ruminations about the ‘future of the press,’ ‘the sealed fate of the printed paper’ and the ‘changing nature of communication’ and all that shebang which everybody in the newspaper business can’t stop blathering about. In the end it’s a fun read telling of a dying business and the characters that populate it are very real. Fun-to-read and makes one wonder if people who read ‘printed’ stuff are destined to become fetishists as print newspapers and books might be consigned to the dustbin of history soon enough. Here’s to hoping not so fast.
Rachman has very brusque prose. It’s like watching a movie with smash cuts and crisp editing. In fact, the novel reads like a screenplay. It’s quite fast-paced and the reportage-style writing gives it a further edge of swiftness and urgency job of firing people from the failing paper. How one of her victims turns her into a victim is a comical story and characteristic of the novel’s style – proceedings that are grave in nature but are told with a sense of perspective and an unrelenting witty undertone. The stories are
Excerpt: ‘Our Lady of Alice Bhatti’ by Mohammad Hanif
‘This whole place is a big Charya Ward’
S
ister Alice Bhatti goes on her first visit to Charya Ward alone but returns, an hour and a half later, kicking and screaming, in Teddy’s arms. No one warns her what awaits her there, no easing-in time, no guided tours, and no orientation course. A slow Monday in A&E and Sister Hina thrusts a clipboard in her hands, papers frayed at the edges as if somebody had been chewing on them. Sister Alvi is broad and philosophical in her brief, even sympathetic, which is a surprise because Sister Hina Alvi usually blames the patients for their own plight. “They eat too much, drink too much, lust too much, can’t stay indoors when they hear gunshots out on the road; they are attracted to bomb blast sites like flies to…” She usually finds a rotting seasonal fruit to complete her analysis of the state of the national health. But today she seems in a generous mood. “These boys in Charya Ward are suffering from what everyone suffers from: life. They just take it a bit more seriously, sensitive types who think too much, care too much, who refuse to laugh at bad jokes. Same rules apply. No touching, no personal information. They can be a bit talkative and lovey shovey. And although you look like somebody who doesn’t need any more love,” Sister Hina looks her up and down as if trying to decide the right dose of love for Alice. “People can be greedy but even if you need it badly, you are not likely to find it there. Just remember it’s called a nut house and there’s a reason for that.” She opens her handbag, takes out a heart-shaped crimson pouch and starts preparing a paan. “But as far as I am concerned, the whole country is a nut house. Have you read Toba Tek Singh? Nobody reads around here any more. Manto wrote about
charyas in a charya ward and then ended up in one himself. His own family put him there.” Sister Hina counts three silver-coated betel nuts and puts them on a leaf, rolls it and puts it in her mouth. Sister Alice notices that she never offers anyone one of her paans. She might spend the whole day surrounded by patients and doctors but she is solitary in her pleasures, always glowing with some personal insight, content in a world that makes sense only to her and happy in the knowledge that she doesn’t need validation from anyone. “I don’t know if you have done any psy-care but there is only one rule you need to remember: you have to tell them that everything is normal. They might have buggered their own sister and then buried her alive but you have to tell them that it’s normal. They obviously did it because some god told them to do it. Of course I don’t think it’s normal behaviour for them to do it or for their god to ask them to do it. But in that ward you have to pretend everything is normal. That’s the sum total of psychiatric education.” Sister Alvi takes out a lime green embroidered handkerchief from her purse, wipes gently around her lips, and then examines it for stains. “Do you smoke?” Alice, who pretended to smoke an occasional biri in the Borstal just to win the respect of her fellow inmates, is startled by the question. “No,” she says. “I tried it in school and it made me nauseous.” Sister Alvi gives her a benevolent smile as if they share a secret now and agree that it should stay between them. “Every girl does something. I really worry about those who say they don’t do anything. I really worry about the ones who actually don’t do anything. Usually they end up with something worse than cancer.”
Caricatured, yet incredibly evocative from page 1
Birlas
nventions dictating our manners and morals Nazar, Farigh Bukhari, Dr Syed Abdullah, Aal-e-Ahmad Suroor, Dr Wazir Agha, Mohsin Bhopali, Jaffer Shirazi, Mohsin Ehsan, Syed Zameer Jaffery, Shabnam Roomani, Ghulam Muhammad Qasir, Arif Abdul Mateen, Salim Betab, Mohsin Naqvi, Ghulam Jilani Asghar, Jamil Malik, Shahzad Ahmad, Ada
Murtaza Birlas adroitly employs the medium of ghazal to vent his burning disquiet ensuring at the same time that its reverberations would not disturb or offend the artistic format or finesse of the genre Jaffery, Dr Tauseef Tabassum, Amjad Islam Amjad, Prof Mumtaz Hussain, Musafiq Khawaja, Abul Khair Kashfi, Dr Agha Sohail, Dr Maqsood Zahidi, Ashfaq Naqvi, Dr Anwar Sadeed, Dr Muhammad Ajmal Niazi, Dr Tahir Taunsvi, Fayyaz Tehsin, Ahmad Javed, Anwar Jamal, Khurshid Beg Mailsvi, Begum Afzal Tauseef, Azra Asghar, Mumtaz Bazmi, Nisar Nasik, Asif Bhalli, Dr Riaz Majeed and
Afsar Sajid have been grafted in the book in the shape of appropriate boxes. Their views have immensely variegated and widened the interpretative estimation of Murtaza Birlas’s person and poetic art. A few quotes from his work would aptly sum up both aspects of his poetry – the communicative and the aesthetic: Is daur maiN jeenay kay kuch aur taqazay thay/Hum apnay usuloN ki tazleel na kar paey DanishwaroN nay hath maiN kashkol lay liyey/Aksar laraz utha huN maey anjam soch kar Itna kha’if ho gaey haiN log hangamoN say ab/JaN laraz jati hai tahni say agar patta giray Jab basti main bhook ho aur insaf na ho mazloomoN say/Phir dushman ko apnay maqasid hasil bhi ho saktay haiN Pahchan mairi jo bhi hai mairi zaban hai/Urdu maiN apnay karta huN maey dastkhat tamam Ankh barsi hai tray nam pay sawan ki tarah/Jism sulga hai tri yaad main eeNdhan ki tarah Maey nay kaha kay bin tray kaisay katay gi zindagi/Jaltay huay charagh ko usnay bujha diya kay yuN Tu hai badal, maey janam ka huN sulagta sehra/Ghir kay aya hai to phir khul kay baras ja kuch aur Samna ho to yeh na chin jaaey/Dil pay jo ikhtiar sa kuch hai Sar-e-bazm mujhko na daikh kay lagay poochnay/YehaN gul rukhoN maiN jo khar tha who kahaN gaya
way to a mood spectrum that goes from somber to very dark through the course of this particular book – the result being that Alice Bhatti as a character is more defined, more contextualized than the pilot cadet protagonist from “A Case of Exploding Mangoes”. And that in itself is understandable given the number of battle fronts she finds herself exposed to – as a Christian in a society hungry for another faith, as a member of the working class in an increasingly polarized environment, and most of all, as a woman in a nauseatingly patriarchal and sexually repressed society. “The room is a monument to pharmaceutical merchandising: the orange wall clock from GlaxoSmithKline, the calendar with blonde models in various stages of migraine from Pfizer Pain Management Systems, the box of pink tissues promising Dry Days, Dry Nights. The ornamented gold-framed verse from the Quran exhorting the virtues of cleanliness carries the logo of Ciba-Geigy: a housefly in its death throes.” The torque behind Hanif’s book is a plot that works the imagination at every step, yet remains complemented by invocation of imagery that many readers, at least here in Pakistan, would find very familiar. Sights, sounds, and smells of a run-down public sector health facility, the characteristic police ‘daala’, with a full cache of thuggish looking policemen at the back, the raw power of a notable’s entourage, and given the state of affairs, even a torched mini
bus seem components out of everyday experience. On the other hand, the book avoids setting a purely localized stage, primarily through the vividness of its plot and élan of its principle character(s). Is the book slightly guilty of dabbling a bit too much into imagery and context? Perhaps, but even then, at no point does it devolve into a case of structure driving agency-less characters. Alice Bhatti, despite all those battlefronts, remains an agent engaged with her surroundings, experiencing successes and losses, but never as a dormant, passive ‘acceptor’ of a readymade fate. Nothing captures this sentiment better than the unorthodox relationship that both Alice and her father have with their own faith. It takes a certain degree of entrenchment, and even life-experience on part of the writer to avoid creating a convenient bi-polarity between Christian and Muslim, and instead make this as much about a character’s relationship with his or her own faith. What is even more interesting, and this could very well be the result of a completely subjective assessment on the part of this reviewer, is that given the state of minority rights in Pakistan and the recent politics that this state has engendered, there is a distinct under-reliance on Alice’s Christian-ness as a catalyst for her character. More than anything, the book adequately highlights the incredibly somber state of affairs for a working woman from the wrong side of the class divide – an issue that
is becoming ever more pressing in the wake of class compulsions and rapid urbanization. “If Alice Bhatti didn’t want this job so badly, if she hadn’t stretched the gap between her nursing-school years and her first house job to cover the fourteen months that she spent in the Borstal Jail for Women and Children, she could have told what her mother had told many a man in her life: if I shove that mop up your arse, you will walk around like a peacock.” It is said that a proper review requires a gap between finishing the book, gathering your thoughts and writing it out. You need time to let the author’s offering sink in, to let your mind absorb its contours, and allow your conscience, and more importantly, your imagination, to distance itself from the acquired immediacy that comes with reading an engaging piece of fiction. The case with Our Lady of Alice Bhatti is that Alice, Sacred Heart Hospital, Joseph Bhatti’s words, and even the specter of urban violence, which in itself is very secondary to the book, stay with the reader well after the last page is turned. This is not a fun read by any account. It will never generate light-hearted discussion amongst mutual appreciators. It is, and will remain a caricatured, yet incredibly evocative story of a woman with a troubled past, a troubled present, and an uncertain future. And this is how it lingers on in both imagination and conscience. The reviewer is a columnist and a blogger.
Rebuilding of Muzafarrabad-Chakothi Road
The Road to Paradise on Earth
06 - 07
Sunday, 04 September, 2011
the review
By Yasir Habib
A
mina, only 13 and a resident of the Indian Held Kashmir (IHK), has never met her first cousin Rashida (10), who lives in Azad Jammu Kashmir (AJK). Both live on opposite sides of the Line of Control at Chakothi, some miles away from AJK capital Muzafarrabad. Recently they have learnt that their families are planning to visit each other in the near future. Now an overjoyed Amina is all set to meet a similarly excited Rashida. What has made this reunion possible is the Muzafarrabad-Chakothi Road, presently under construction, and expected to be completed next year.
All-weather road The all-weather road runs along the curling river Jhelum that flows from East to West between the lofty and lush green mountains and joins River Neelum at Domel, near Muzaffarabad city. It meets the Line of Control (LoC) – the de facto border. Originally known as the
all set to finish the rest of the task by June 30, 2012. Under the National Highway Improvement Programme (NHIP), the National Highway Authority (NHA) assigned the MuzafarrabadChakothi road project to FWO, in 2007 at the cost of Rs1649.649 million but was later revised to Rs4000 million. An FWO official involved with the project, Col Faisal Jan, told Pakistan Today that river erosion, landslides, heavy rainfalls and the resultant damage to transport construction material heavily impaired the pace of construction. However, the worst damage to the road was caused by the overflowing the Zilzal Lake as the road was unable to withstand the strong torrents of flood water and collapsed under the onslaught. In 2010, a flash flood caused the lake to overflow and submerged the under-construction road, collapsing all the retaining walls (built to hold back earth from river surface to road
Ceasefire Line, it was redesignated as the “Line of Control” following the Simla
Agreement, which was signed on July 3, 1972. The 460 miles long LoC was opened from Chakothi check post, at one end of Muzafarrabad-Chakothi road after the 2003 cease-fire agreement managed to pull the two sides back from the brink of what could had been the fourth major war between them. And in the intervening years, as events related to the US War on Terror came to dominate Pakistan’s security situation, the conflict that began at birth between India and Pakistan gave way to something approaching a semblance of peace.
Rehabilitation Nowadays, the 59 kilometer Muzafarrabad-Chakothi road, severely damaged by the devastating earthquake of 2005, is being rehabilitated, remodelled and upgraded to provide a safer, comfortable and quality route to people anxious for family re-unions. The Frontier Works Organization (FWO) has completed 75 percent road of the construction work and is
level). It also flattened the bridges and ruined ongoing construction work,” he added. After the situation was normalised, the project was redesigned and retaining walls were built from the level of the river bottom to the road level to prevent any future tragedy. He also explained the history and geography of the Zilzal Lake, almost 3.5 kilometre long and 350 feet deep, and how it was created after the earthquake of October 8, 2005 when a mountain slid into the valley, blocking the way of river and burying five villages underneath it near Chikkar.
The Builders The FWO over the last 44 years has been acclaimed for its construction of bridges, roads, highways and other huge construction projects all over Pakistan. The famous Karakorum Highway between Pakistan and China was this organisation’s first assignment. The FWO has left its imprint, bringing prosperity to the utterly backward and forgotten areas from the sun-burnt plateaus of Baluchistan to lush green dales of Swat and Chitral and from the deserts of Sindh to snow-capped Siachin.
T r a d e and Tourism Muzafarrabad-Chakothi Road is the sole route of the so-called Peace Bus, the Dosti Bus, which started operating between the AJK and the IHK few years back. Apart from being the means of physical contact between residents of the two Kashmirs, the road also facilitates tourism and trade. Travelling along the Muzafarrabad-Chakothi Road, trucks from Pakistan cross the Chakothi Check post and enter the Indian side of Kashmir’s de facto border, the Line of Control (LoC), at Kaman post, some 120 kilometers (75 miles) north of Srinagar, India. Muhammad Haris, AJK trader says that fruits, kidney beans (rajma), honey, spices, walnuts and almonds are sent to Azad Kashmir while rice, spices, rock salt, dry dates and raisins are imported from there. Thousands of tourists that frequent AJK travel through the Muzafarrabad-Chakothi Road, which provides the path to many captivating locations including Subri, Ghari Dopatta, Chakar, Hattian Bala and Chinari. It is also marked by a small white steel bridge beneath which flows the shimmering River Jhelum, winding its way between two ranges of hills competing amongst themselves in scale and beauty. It also provides access to the Subri Lake, created very famously by a cloud burst over the surrounding hill during 1975, located eight kilometres from Muzaffarabad. Since the road serves as a major link from Azad Jammu & Kashmir to the Indian held Kashmir and is also lone ground connection to LoC, Muzafarrabad-Chakothi Road has strategic importance and with its completion, the army supply line is expected to be improved in a big way..
Environmental aspect Mr Yaseen, an FWO engineer, said that one of the positive facets of the project was the usage of bioengineering techniques to keep strata along the road stable to prevent massive land sliding. “Each month two environment reports by independent consultants are prepared to keep the project environment-friendly,” said he. According to him, since it was a
World Bank funded project, environmental concerns have to be factored in strictly. “Bio-engineering is the use of vegetation, either alone or in conjunction with civil engineering structures, to reduce instability and erosion on slopes. It should be a fundamental part of the design and construction of all roads in the hilly areas, primarily because it provides one of the best ways to armour slopes against erosion,” said he. And it was relatively low- cost as it made use of local materials and skills,
MuzafarrabadChakothi Road is the sole route of the so-called Peace Bus, the Dosti Bus, which started operating between the AJK and the IHK few years back. Apart from being the means of physical contact between residents of the two Kashmirs, the road also facilitates tourism and trade. and also providing livelihoods. Bioengineering techniques include stonepitching, check dams, brush layering, retaining wall, shrub planting and tree and bamboo planting. “In the process, grass seed is spread on to the slope, armouring the surface. Alternatively grass is handplanted in lines across the slope. The lines protect the slope and catch debris. Angled lines planted by hand may also help to drain the surface, but catch little debris. Wood cuttings are laid in lines across the slope, usually following the contour, in particular configurations. These form a strong barrier, preventing the development of rill, and trap material moving down the slope,” said Yasin.
“We need to prepare for our audit. Organize a game of dodge ball!”
closing bell GARFIELD
aries
taurus
gemini
You need to soak up some culture today: Art, music, food, history, whatever you can find. It is best if it's unfamiliar, as your mindset is definitely primed for discoveries right now.
You are more thoughtful today, and might find that you are taking a philosophical bent in your musings. It's a good time to reconsider old beliefs or see if you can stretch yourself out mentally.
Try to avoid any hard and fast ideas today -- you need to be as flexible as possible when it comes to new thinking. In fact, if you can persuade a few people to at least consider new proposals, that's a win.
cancer
leo
virgo
Push yourself a little -- you need to get out in the community and do some good! Your energy is just right for making sure that people are getting what they need, so do what you can!
You are incredibly generous even on your worst days, and right now, you're willing to give up your last dime to help a friend in need. Your great energy ensures that things keep getting better!
Don't let yourself get too worked up over today's big changes -- the less you struggle against them, the better. You may find that you feel a lot better once you just give up and go with the flow.
libra
scorpio
sagittarius
Your mental energy is overflowing, and you ought to make the most of it -- so set aside some time for some deep thinking. It's a good day to explore the big ideas that inform your world.
You need to exercise your skepticism today -things are definitely not what they seem! Make sure that the right people are paying attention as you decline to participate in this raw deal.
You need to spend extra time with your friends today -- it is sure to pay off! Your amazing energy helps them deal with their own issues, while their presence ensures that you are at your best.
capricorn
aquarius
pisces
You're moving more quickly than you think -- which could be a problem, if you're not paying attention! See if you can get your people to help you with whatever it is that needs doing.
Someone new makes a great impression on you. This could lead to romance, deep friendship or new accomplishments -- whatever seems right to you is likely to be the way it goes, so wing it.
Take greater care than usual with your words today -- they can get you in big trouble if you don't think through their ramifications first! You may be better off keeping communication to a minimum.
cRosswoRD
sUDokU
ACROSS
woRD sEARch
how to pLAy
bRIDGE
fill in all the squares in the grid so that each row, column and each of the squares contains all the digits. the object is to insert the numbers in the boxes to satisfy only one condition: each row, column and 3x3 box must contain the digits 1 through 9 exactly once.
adaptable anatomy aspiration automatic bacteria belligerent coincidence cowardice disaster easygoing elaborate enjoyment evolution horizontal identical imbalance incessant
ironic jacket king knock main microphone neck nibble perfection quite sold taint transplant underscore warm yarn
Today’s soluTions
tEst yoUR DEFEnsE
chEss White to move – Play and mate in four moves 8
DOWN
7
1 livelihood of a cleaner, supported by money (5,5) 2 master lost for words (8) 3 certainly in on the act (6) 4 tax on goods and service (4) 5 field dressing of growing importance (10) 6 imply port swallowed is of a lower standard (8) 7 parents separated by an ascending waterway (6) 8 hail a boat (4) 14 men on phone exchange will be a rarity (10) 15 no problem in baker street (10) 17 i came up to brew tea and dry up (8) 18 machinist's work rate poor (8) 20 clean up on the favourite, darling! (6) 21 a sleeping partner who was robbed of his capital assets (6) 22 cattle given firm directions (4) 23 present capacity (4)
6
crossword solution
5 4 3
A
B
C
D
E
F
G
H
chess solution
1
1. Bxf5 Qxf5+ 2. Ke7 Qb1 3. Ra2+ Qxa2 4. Qb4#
2
sudoku solution
9 risk coming by river (9) 10 poetically inferior place in wales (5) 11 taking offence (7) 12 cure those people without charge (7) 13 it may be in the bank or in circulation (5) 14 beat friend hollow and scoffed (9) 16 his christmas present was one of three (8,7) 19 unusually enamoured by one's appearance (9) 21 its happy ending comes as a relief (5) 22 upset glue, lid needs to be put on first (7) 23 he is trained in horse jumping (7) 24 use force for peace, say (5) 25 seen by footballer shown the red card? well, no! (3,6)
DILbERt
Sunday, 04 September, 2011
08
Pictures by the Author
Gone are the days of the wide-open vistas. So few people today realise that as we once went tooling along the highways, we got to know this country – its rivers and trees, its birds and animals and all that grew on it
The past is another country Unchecked urban spread has not only deprived us of a landscape that my generation knew, it has defiled this land in more ways than one
By Salman Rashid
O
nce upon a time when ‘urbanisation’ had not yet caught on, this was another country. Outside the urban centres, this was a land of wide-open vistas of swaying fields of wheat, rice or sugar cane as weather permitted. This was a land of spreading banyan trees that, I was to learn much later, figured on one-inch army topographical maps as ‘survey trees.’ And this was a country of fine stands of shisham and acacia trees, roadside ponds ablaze with red and blue lotus flowers and fresh water streams alive with tortoises and fish. In those days of the late 1950s and through the following decade, when the family drove up the Grand Trunk Road to Rawalpindi or took the N-5 down to Multan, the ride was through a marvellous landscape. The Degh River just a few kilometres north of Lahore was a clear water stream whose banks were lined with anglers – especially
if it was a Sunday. Gujranwala was a tiny little town where we swept past only a handful of stores and several lovely old town houses. Similarly for Gujrat, while Jhelum was remarkable for the church that came into view as the car entered the old Jhelum River bridge. In those days the church stood in a wideopen meadow where buffaloes grazed. One thing that did not escape even us children was the very frequent spreading banyan tree shading a pond that could either be brick-lined or just plain. The sole surviving tree is the one near Sohawa (on the left side of the road as one motors towards Rawalpindi) whose accompanying pond is now sadly dry. All the others have been sacrificed to the everwidening roads. On the other side, along the N-5, my memory of passing Okara is not, I repeat, not seeing any habitation. An older cousin who was then an engineer told me that British road builders had ensured that all intercity roads pass one mile from habitation and were connected to it by a link road. Today passing through Pattoki, Okara or any other place that does not have a bypass is nightmare. In 1979 I moved to Karachi and for the next ten years travelled extensively in the interior of Sindh and Balochistan. Super Highway actually began at Sohrab Goth and ended in the wilderness outside Hyderabad. In its entire length of 160-odd kilometres, the only sign of human intervention was the Nooriabad Industrial Estate with its chimneys. Similarly, the old N-5 connecting these two cities via Thatta passed through the loveliest countryside imaginable. The Gharo River meandering through acacia and mesquite bushes was a sight and Thatta was a right lovely little town with its badgirs (wind-catchers) looking
in open-mouthed wonder to the southwest In the interior country roads such as what is now known as the Indus Highway (connecting Hyderabad and Shikarpur via Sehwan and Larkana) was truly magical. On the one side were occasional glimpses of the Sindhu River beyond patches of cultivation and on the other of the tortured, barren hills of the eastern-most offshoot of the Khirthar Mountains. But the most magical of all places was Balochistan. It was the only land within this country where one could actually be with one’s self for mile after mile after mile. Even as recently as the mid-1980s, the drive from Karachi to say Lasbela or Kalat along the RCD Highway was remarkable for its loneliness. In the early 1980s I drove several times between Karachi and Lasbela and once all the way to Quetta and on all occasions I halted frequently simply to savour the peace and solitude of the land. For long minutes, perhaps even as much as half an hour, no traffic passed as I sat by the road to watch dozens of dust devils waltzing in the distance against misty blue hills. In Makran there were no roads at all. The journey along the seaboard from Karachi to Gwadar took two days and one arrived with a goodly portion of the desert deposited on one’s self. It took a long, long bath to wash the dust away. The dirt road between Gwadar, Turbat and on to Panjgur passed through the most remarkable landscape of dry, broken hills and riverbeds that saw water only rarely when rain fell. A handful of kilometres from Gwadar on the west bay the hills of Pishukan, completely unpopulated and waterless were the most fascinating place ever.
Seen against a low sun they looked (and still do) like the skyscraper-filled skyline of some modern city. Now with Gwadar being turned into the next Dubai (or whatever else they plan), urbanisation has hit this region in a big way. Sooner than we know, west bay will be choc-a-bloc with concrete monstrosities that will block out the beauty of the Pishukan hills. In recent years I have seen Karachi expand all the way to the Hub River both along RCD Highway and on the tree-shaded and peaceful Hub Dam Road. Along the former we have an industrial estate and its auxiliary residential areas as well as the shanties that were bound to happen. On the latter the sprawling Hamdard University has taken away the magic. Within years of the establishment of the university, Karachi began to encroach in that direction. Today as one drives up to the dam, one is never alone. And if I am not wrong, a lot of trees, mainly acacia and tamarisk, have been destroyed in the bargain. Even the lonely RCD Highway has not escaped urban pressure as places as quaint and remote as Khuzdar and Wadh have encroached upon the road. This invasion is mostly in the form of glitzy restaurants and unseemly truck stops. Though I have not been on this road for nearly twenty years, friends tell me that no longer can one stop and savour the solitude of Balochistan for more than a few minutes at a time without being disturbed by passing buses. In the case of Punjab and NWFP, the less said the better. Today one can drive from, say, Peshawar to Lahore or Multan or even all the way to Karachi and never be out in the country. Today the entire 1000 plus kilometre length of the N-5 is an endless bazaar. The views of swaying sugar cane or golden
wheat along the road are a thing of the past. Now all one sees is an endless procession of grimy workshops and filthy restaurants. If it is not that, then it is a succession of equally unsightly factories. Gone are the days of the wide-open vistas. Unchecked urbanisation has destroyed the magic of intercity travel. So few people today realise that as we once went tooling along the highways, we got to know this country; its rivers and trees, its birds and animals and all that grew on it that made up our food. Unchecked urban spread has not only deprived us of a landscape that my generation knew. It has defiled this land in more ways than one. For one, vast tracts of farmland on the periphery of urban centres have been made over for housing estates. Indigenous trees were without fail the first casualty in this deal. All the wonderful, spreading banyan, pipal, mulberry, acacia and shisham were laid low to demarcate plots and lay out the grid of roads. In their stead, ignorant developers planted the water-guzzling eucalyptus and the only tree we now see is this accursed alien species. Secondly, unplanned urban expansion has destroyed dozens of fresh water streams. The Degh, the Aik and the Palkhu are just a few examples. We now stand on the threshold of a new age where we will not know this country. In a few years most urban people will only know ugly concrete jungles, not spreading fields of wheat and paddy. Small wonder then that we are going crazier and crazier and ever more violence-prone. –Salman Rashid, rated as the best in the country, is a travel writer and photographer who has travelled all around Pakistan and written about his journeys.