The Review - 27th November, 2011 by Pakistan Today

student unions

in Pakistan

By Hashim bin Rashid

Illustrated & Designed by Babur Saghir

However, the anti-IJT turn within the PU and other public sector universities is strong. This year, the PU Vice Chancellor himself joined antiIJT protests (however ironic the image of the PU’s top administrator protesting and not disciplining a student group within his university be). Student elections are the only hope of displacing the IJT. But for those who scour the student political landscape and see only the crippling influence of the IJT, it was not always so and it is still not so. In the absence of formal student federations and unions, middle class private sector students have formed numerous groups (political and social) to engage in social activism. Elsewhere, there is more hopeful news for those who wish for more political solutions: the Progressive Youth Front is being built for the working class youth and the National Student Federation (NSF) is rising again. The NSF Punjab has held its first convention in 20 years in Faisalabad on 26 November with the restoration of student unions central to its demands. In arguing for student unions, it is essential to take a look back at the changes within student politics. Mis-reading history: Contextualizing the rise of the IJT and militarization of student unions In the transformation of student politics from ideological, issue-based politics to turf wars, the state played a critical role. Student unions have stood as mirrors of the state and political parties. They have reflected the crises produced in the relation between State and society.

In the 40s the Muslim Student Federation aligned with the Muslim League to become the flag bearer of the Pakistan movement. The MSF took on more progressive members (belonging to the Communist Party) as did the PML. The 50s saw the MSF follow the trajectory of what was now the Pakistan Muslim League. As the PML fractured, so did the MSF. And within the progressive circles amongst these arose the Democratic Students Federation, which became actively aligned with the Communist Party of Pakistan. Against the pro-West policies, antiSoviet policies of the then government it became the progressive student voice of the time. To oppose it, the National Student Federation was set up as pro-establishment but soon became antiestablishment after the ban opposed on the DSF meant ex-NSF members streamed in. The 60s saw the peak of the NSF as a left student federation that brought together wider progressive views but remained unaffiliated with a particular political party. This was also the period when the Islami Jamiat Taliba aggressively introduced itself to student politics and became the NSF’s main political contender. By 1962, both the NSF and IJT turned against the Ayub government for different reasons: the former for the government’s pro-American, pro-capitalist stance, the latter for its pro-modernisation one. The period also saw the NSF and IJT unite to oppose Ayub in the 1964 presidential elections. It was then the NSF that led anti-Ayub student protests and saw its most successful period between 1965 and 1968. It had also turned decidedly pro-Bhutto and PPP. Continued on page 8

2 Children of a Lesser God? 6 The remains of the Sarai

rime Minister Yousaf Raza Gilani stood before the parliament in February 2008 and promised the restoration of student unions. Sweets were distributed amongst students of public sector universities. At that point, we were students at a private sector university, beginning to haltingly, but determinedly, raise our political voices and develop a political consciousness. We would go to the Punjab University (PU), whose students had joined us in the 2007 resistance to the Musharraf regime. There was great hope and great repression. We learnt a great deal from our counterparts and how the progressive ideals carried by the majority of PU students had been stunted by the fear of the Islami Jamiat Taliba (IJT). But as study circles on subjects such as feminism, Marxism and examinations of Pakistani history became almost impossible to conduct within the PU, a group of some 40 PU students found a small rented place outside the college to collect act and discuss a subject a week and sometimes, watch a political film. As different speakers came and spoke to them, history was opened up and interrogated, and the political voice of those participating began to mature. Subsequently, many became part of the formation of the University Student Federation (USF) in a bid to counter the IJT in the PU. This was almost six months after the protests against the IJT in PU after Imran Khan was beaten had subsided. However, the rise of a new student force in PU was deemed unacceptable and on December 3, 2008, a PU Law College student was shot after a USF rally in the PU. I recall USF members contacting us as members of the then dormant Student Action Committee, Lahore (set up as an umbrella organisation to bring students together to oppose Musharraf ’s 2007 emergency). There was great hope amongst them but they found no backing amongst the JI-dominated faculty and administration of PU and the USF project faded away. In 2011, the PU Philosophy Department became the hub of anti-IJT resistance. Again, IJT members raided a PU hostel, beat up students, fired shots and got away scot-free. The same year, the Punjab government allowed the IJT to recement its chokehold on the PU by allowing the IJT to hold its annual convention at PU. An alternate has not been allowed to build up. In the absence of formal student unions, the informal grip of the IJT has continued to dominate public sector colleges and deny the students any political voice. When we asked our friends what had happened, they responded, “In the absence of student unions, we are forced to work underground. The IJT with its organised structure operates without restraint. No IJT member has been disciplined yet. In the absence of student unions, students cannot vote them out of offices either.” The IJT with its focus on moral policing as its way of maintaining control over turf has crippled the political imagination of students. Whenever we wished to shift some of the substantive political debates we held into the PU, the fear of the IJT and the lack of an alternate hampered the event.

the review

The argument for restoring

Sunday, 27 November, 2011

Children of a Lesser God?

Discrimination against minorities is rampant in educational institutions with authorities turning a convenient blind eye to the abuse

By Bushra Sultana

ducation in Pakistan is in a dismal state, no two doubts about that. Considering such a shoddy state of affairs, Pakistan is sure to miss its target for the Millennium Development Goal for education. However, the irony of the situation is that in 2011, declared as the year of “education emergency” in Pakistan by Prime Minister Gilani, blatant persecution of a minority community persists in Punjab’s private and public schools as Ahmadi children are forcibly removed from these schools.

Sunday, 27 November, 2011

Denying them education It started in August, when the residents of Pachnand, district Chakwal, began putting pressure on the administration of local schools to expel the Ahmadi students studying there because they didn’t want their children to interact with them. Succumbing to increasing pressure, the management of Government Boys High School and Al Yousaf Memorial Public School expelled six boys while one girl was dismissed from Government High School for Girls. Just two months later, in October, a similar sequence of events unfolded in Dharamwali, district Hafizabad. This time, thirteen children and two school teachers were expelled from Chenab Public School and Muslim Public School as a result of the local community’s pressure. The students included children as young as age five. As expected, there was hardly any coverage given to these incidents even in a media so prone to bouts of moral outrage these days over matters of ‘injustice’. Even though the 18th Amendment to the constitution guarantees free education for all children up to secondary school, eyes were averted and ears turned deaf as these Ahmadi children were systematically deprived of this basic right. These incidences, unfortunately, aren’t the first time students have

become targets of faith-driven hatred and derision. In June 2008, 23 medical students were rusticated from Punjab Medical College Faisalabad for “preaching their faith.” The students vehemently denied these charges and claimed they had a right to verbally protect their beliefs if someone hurled insults at them. Yet, the administration claimed it had to take immediate action to calm public sentiment. After about six weeks of high-level inquiries, some students were reinstated to the college, while others were packed off to other colleges in Punjab. Hasan Ahmad, student of 3rd year at that time, found out he had been transferred to Rahim Yar Khan in southern Punjab. “I almost missed my exams as we tried every possible way we could to get me transferred to a city where I had family.” Hasan recalls, during our conversation. “It was the most agonizing six months of my life.” The fate of the school children was worse. With unceremonious dismissals, the students and their families were at a complete loss over how to proceed. Ultimately, their families relocated them to different schools where some of the persecuted families chose not to disclose their identity out fear of more prejudicial treatment.

Instilling intolerance The basis of this discrimination and undiluted hatred is often sown through the education institutes. School textbooks are rife with anti-minority (especially anti-Hindu) rhetoric. The recently released study sponsored by the US Commission on Religious Freedom (USCIRF) confirms that the schools and madaris in Pakistan reinforce religious bias in children through the curricula and teachers’ attitudes. It is this constant drilling in of Islamic superiority over others– as well as the persecution complex – that germinates future religious bigots, hate mongers and, in their worst forms, murderers motivated by religiously-

Just two months later, in October, a similar sequence of events unfolded in Dharamwali, district Hafizabad. This time, thirteen children and two school teachers were expelled from Chenab Public School and Muslim Public School as a result of the local community’s pressure. The students included children as young as age five inspired hatred. This stereotyping of the “other” is then reinforced through a lifetime of casual acceptance of hate speech and a discriminatory attitude entrenched in daily life. Many such people then become teachers, drawing on the same prejudicial textbooks they grew up on, thus continuing the loop of discrimination and hatred. Sindh and Khyber-Pakhtunkhwa have recently made strides in revamping the textbook curriculum, but sadly Punjab lags far behind.

Hypocrisy of government

the

provincial

Punjab government has placed much emphasis on education through the Chief Minister Shahbaz Sharif’s “exemplary” Danish School System. With promises to provide quality education to the children of lower economic strata, the government has boasted of this project like a preening peacock. However no mention of tackling the issue of religious discrimination has so far been made. In May 2010, when two Ahmadi “places of worship” were targeted by militants leaving 92 people dead, Nawaz Sharif, leader of PML-N, called Ahmadis “our brethren.” This innocuous comment, a tiny gesture of lip service paid to a grieving community, caused an immediate uproar. Nawaz Sharif was denounced by religious leaders

who vehemently asked him to take his comment back. Though Sharif stood firm and didn’t respond to such preposterous demands, the reaction was enough for him to not touch the topic again. His more politically conservative brother, Chief Minister Sharif, thought best to stay clear of any such controversy from the start. This is the reality of Punjab and PML-N. Though Nawaz Sharif may have developed a more moderate outlook in his politics over the years, his party hasn’t evolved with him making it hard for the moderate vision to translate into governance. In fact, the provincial law minister, Rana Sanaullah, has been spotted consorting with members of banned Sipahe-Sahaba during the by-elections in Jhang. Tehreek-e-Khatam-eNabuwat, a religious organisation which uses derogatory language against Ahmadiyya community during the best of times, and incites others to boycott and even kill them through pamphlets at the worst, holds regular gatherings against the community with the official patronage of the government of Punjab. Muhammad Ahmad Zafar, from the office of Amoor-e-Aama Rabwah, points to the marked increase in incidences of violence, harassment and discrimination, especially against Ahmadi students after Salmaan

Though Nawaz Sharif may have developed a more moderate outlook in his politics over the years, his party hasn’t evolved with him making it hard for the moderate vision to translate into governance Taseer’s murder. “It is as if they have found an excuse, a credible precedence,” he says. He has a point. After the 2008 incident at Punjab Medical College, the next two incidences occurred after Taseer’s murder. And no official stepped in to control the situation. It is as if his tragic end increased the already unbridgeable split between tolerance and intolerance.

Legal recourse Yasser Latif Hamdani, a legal expert, is one of the few who discussed the options in the aftermath of the October expulsions. He explains that as far as the government schools are concerned, there is definite room for recourse as Article 22(3b) clearly states that “no citizen shall be denied admission to any educational institution receiving aid from public revenues on the grounds only of race, religion, caste or place of birth.” Therefore, the families could have filed a writ petition, he says, making the provincial government, provincial education ministry and the school respondents. But the matter gets a bit tricky with private schools. According to Mr Hamdani the private schools can’t be held accountable if they are designated for a communal purpose. However this doesn’t mean there is no way to regulate their attitude. “Dismissal…from a school which does not serve only one particular community can be remedied through a civil suit for damages,” he says. Mr Zafar told to me how that community added the incident in their monthly report which details incidents of persecution against it and sent it to all relevant authorities. But they didn’t seek court’s help. He says, “Even if the school administration had been forced to take the students back, they would have found another pretext to harass or expel them.” It is painfully ironic that for a community which gave Pakistan its first Nobel Laureate and its first foreign minister who had also drafted the Pakistan Resolution, the doors to education are being shut with not much hope for relief from powers that be. The spirit of devolving education to the provinces through the 18th Amendment was to make room for hands-on governance which effectively targeted the specific needs of different localities and people. It has yet to make a positive impact on the lives of at least one community.

Memo-gate: Beyond (T)reason One silly memo has knocked out the Ambassador to the US, Hussain Haqqani, as the military re-asserts to the civilian government who is boss By Hashim bin Rashid

he word ‘high treason’ has re-surfaces in the country, this time directed at Pakistan’s Ambassador to the United States’ Hussain Haqqani. He resigned and currently faces an impending inquiry. But it is curious how no such words were thrown at those on who watched Osama Bin Laden live peacefully for five years in Abbottabad. In fact, the commission to investigate the matter has turned into the question of how the helicopters were let in and not how Bin Laden was sheltered here. The one civilian accused of compromising sovereignty (in theory) had to resign and face a trial. But no military man resigned after either the Raymond Davis affair, Abbottabad or the PNS Mehran attack – very real and tangible instances of compromising the sovereignty of the nation. No military man resigned earlier when the GHQ went under attack. So let us use this small writing space to set the record straight. The controversy began on October 10 when an article titled ‘Time to take on Pakistan’s jihadist spies’ was printed in the Financial Times blog under the name Mansoor Ijaz. Let us cite from the article, “ISI embodies the scourge of radicalism that has become a cornerstone of Pakistan’s foreign policy. The time has come for America to take the lead in shutting down the political and financial support that sustains an organ of the Pakistani state that undermines global antiterrorism efforts at every turn.” In the same article, Mansoor Ijaz also claims he had delivered a memo from the Pakistan government to Admiral Mike Mullen which, claiming it was under a coup threat, asked the US for protection and to allow it to enforce a set of checks on the Pakistan army. The article was selectively re-printed in the Pakistani press, but not much fuss arose until our resident ‘agent of change’ Imran Khan pointed an accusatory

finger at Hussain Haqqani in the October 30 Minar-e-Pakistan PTI rally. Up until this point, no one else had named Haqqani. Subsequently, as events seem to suggest, the ISI DG went to meet Mansoor Ijaz, an unabashed ISI-hater if his writing is to be believed, in London and upon his return, a campaign against Haqqani began. The ironic part was that trust was put in a man known for asking the American government to take down the ISI-S wing and declare it a terrorist. The writing was on the wall is quite apparent: the military establishment, who had ceded ground and been on the back foot for a while now, was pulling the reigns and planning to take a step or more forward. One part of what Mansoor Ijaz wrote in the article was being taken seriously, the other part was not even being discussed. All and sundry in the political opposition joined the slogans of high treason. Even the last politician to be kept 7-years in jail on charges of high treason, Pakistan Muslim League-Nawaz’s Makhdoom Javed Hashmi joined the brigade to raise the ‘invoke Article 6’ rhetoric. The real question at hand was quite simply this: civil-military imbalance. A PPP government that had shown itself incapable of taking the military to task, being the only supporters of the Pakistan Army when even rightwing groups bashed i t

But when in 1951, Pakistan Army chief General Ayub Khan presented before the US a White Paper on Pakistan and assumed control 3 years later in a US-backed coup, the dear general was not put to trial for treason

for the Abbottabad raid, had been brought into a position of checkmate from a point when it could have killed the others’ king. It had tried twice to put the army and ISI under its control with both attempts foiled by the military establishment: the 2008 attempt to put the ISI under the interior ministry and the KerryLugar bill. It was said the military leadership had considered Haqqani the mastermind behind both attempts and he had been on their target list for a long time. With this ‘leak’ they finally nabbed him big time. And threw around the word ‘high treason’ without themselves uttering a word. The claim was: the Ambassador had approached the US government to support the Pakistan government check its own military. But when in 1951, Pakistan Army chief General Ayub Khan presented before the US a White Paper on Pakistan and assumed control 3-years after in a US-backed coup, the dear general was not put to trial for treason. While Haqqani has altogether denied the charge of writing the memo in question, General Ayub wrote about his White Paper with great pride in his autobiography. Civilian treason and military treason in Pakistan are two different things. In fact, military treason does not exist. But any civilian who is antistatus quo can be declared treasonous f o r political expediency. The first treason, the first sell out belonged to Pakistan’s second army chief and nowhere do

the powers that be even acknowledge that. Subsequently, General Zia ul Haq and General Pervez Musharraf sold the country and offered its armed forces for. But no case for treason was made again them. So, while if it does turn out true that the current civilian government directly ordered the memo in question be written, treason is a label that must begin to be applied elsewhere. Surely, one agrees with the perspective that no effective civilian government would turn to an external government to put the Pakistan military in order. A prime example is the AK party in Turkey who has challenged a constitutionally protected army. But let us also remember the armed forces themselves refused to let the intelligence agencies report to the Prime Minister in the same governments ’timeframe. The principle must be consistent: if allowing a foreign government to interfere in local politics is treasonous, then the military’s interfere in local politics is also treasonous. And so Musharraf and a number of other honourable military men must be put on treason trial before a treason trial begins against Hussain Haqqani. As it stands, however, Ambassador Haqqani had resigned. Ambassador Rehman has taken charge. The next set of questions are being asked of the sitting President. But the real game unfolding on the political checker board has not yet been played out or will play out until the civilian government or the Supreme Court decides to charge the ‘right quarters’ for high treason. But such is the wishful thinking of fools like myself.

The road to enchantment Another admirable quality that Salman Rashid has in his repertoire is the deftness with which he informs the readers about the historical perspective of each location By Kunwar Khuldune Shahid

he readers of these pages or travelogues from our neck of the woods are no strangers to Salman Rashid’s name or his dexterity in crafting out an aura of adventure via an impeccable mélange of text and illustration. Salman Rashid – author of seven books and a Fellow of the Royal Geographical Society – is in the vanguard of travel writers in Pakistan and a maestro in the depiction of aweinspiring expeditions in some of the most naturally gaudy locations. This book funnels in the preeminence of the author, and secures it in a 203-page magnum opus. “The Apricot Road to Yarkand” – artistically titled, courtesy late Adam Nayyar – is an enchantingly scripted book which expounds the tale of a journey from Shigar Valley to Yarkand in the cinematographically

“Like the USA, Pakistan remains first an idea, then a country”

P Sunday, 27 November, 2011

they experience the thrill-a-minute ride, from top to bottom. The candid expression of the author ascertains that there is a multitude of cheerful moments, and the work is not devoid of its sense of humour. In the opening chapter, the writer elucidates his pride in being a globally distinguished figure, only to be informed that those he had mistaken for being Japanese and Spaniard

The Apricot Road to Yarkand By Salman Rashid Publishers: Sang-e-Meel Publications,Lahore. Pages: 203; Price: Not mentioned

The anthology could have benefitted from a more imaginative selection of writings to better help in expanding our current understanding of Pakistan’s heritage By Zainab Moulvi

04 - 05

opulent North of Pakistan, traversing through the glacier-laden Muztagh Pass. It creates an ambiance of thrill, escapade, endurance, camaraderie and the beguiling man-mountain bond – one that only Salman Rashid could pull off. The parlance of the book is incomparably above-board, and yet delightfully simple. Unlike most other travelogues – that strive for creating a ‘larger than life’ persona that hankers after the unfathomable in too literal a sense – Salman Rashid’s compositions ensure that they take the readers on board and allow them to feel a part of the journey. And, “The Apricot Road to Yarkand” is a paradigm of letting the readers in on the narration companionably, while ensuring that

erhaps it is this basic premise of Toheed Ahmad’s anthology ‘A Large White Crescent’ that is its fatal flaw. In Ahmad’s own words, the book endeavors to give an overview of Pakistan’s heritage by bringing together an assortment of writings by personalities somehow linked to the ‘idea of Pakistan’. At this juncture in our country’s history at which this very notion of a singular Pakistani narrative and identity is being subjected to serious questioning, Touheed reverts to the wholly traditional account of Pakistan’s heritage, taking the much trodden route spanning from Mohammad bin Qasim, to Shah Walliullah and Sir Syed Ahmed Khan, and arriving predictably at Allama Muhammad Iqbal and Mohammad Ali Jinnah. The book kicks off with a brief exposition of Indus Valley Civilization’s archaeological roots through the writings of Sir Mortimer Wheeler, and is followed by the Brahamabad Declaration of Mohammad bin Qasim, prominent in history textbooks but a figure few (barring Punjabis and Mohajirs) can relate to. The plurality of identity opened by the reference to the Indus Valley civilization is closed at the onset by the inclusion of bin Qasim which reinforces the notion that ‘our’ history begins with the spread of Islam in the subcontinentv . However, having said that, if one agrees with the premise that Pakistan is an Islamic State – actually, even if one doesn’t - the book has its share of thoughtprovoking writings that invite one to reflect on our ‘Muslim’ identity in a more critical and openminded manner. We can take away

key lessons from Hali’s ‘Mussadas’, the Ebb and Tide of Islam, in which he shuns obscurantism and attributes the current plight of Muslims and ossification of the religion to ‘the stifling of dissent, curbing of questions and allowing rituals to take precedence over the spirit of religion’. Iqbal’s chapter takes up a similar strain in what is perhaps the anthology’s redeeming feature. His essay on ‘The Principle of Movement in the Structure Islam’ allows us to imagine the Shariah in more fluid, dynamic sense and it highlights the central role of ‘change’ and evolution’ in Islam. The anthology includes a piece on the less-celebrated son of Mughal king, Shah Jehan, Dara Shikoh, who was heir to the throne but was a branded an apostate for supposedly having allied with ‘heretics and infidels’ and executed after his brothers Aurangzeb and Murad successfully defeated his army. Dara’s was a spiritually inclined mind, who’s fascination with religions drew him towards a study of other religions, in particular, Hindu mythology and Vedanta philosophy. This level of tolerance is almost inconceivable in today’s day and age in which preconceived attacks precede any attempts to understand and converse with the religious ‘other’. The inclusion of Nobel Laureate Abdus Salam is perhaps the most poignant reminder of how we have c a l l o u s l y d i s m i s s e d great minds for their religious orientation and persist in failing to cultivate s c i e n t i f i c research, or for that matter, any kind of research in our nation. One of our most revolutionary

poets, and recipient of the Lenin peace prize, Faiz Ahmed Faiz’s writings are always a pleasure to read. The anthology includes his haunting poem, Sub-e-Azadi (The Dawn of Freedom) along with his acceptance speech for the Lenin Peace prize, as well as his proposal to the government, urging the revival of the Takshila Institute, an International University or Study Centre at Taxila. A detailed overview of Amir Khusrao’s ‘The Nuh Siphr’ (The Nine Skies) is another fascinating addition to the book, which introduces and explains the life and writings of this poetic genius. Eqbal Ahmed is perhaps one of the greatest modern intellectuals to have been born of this soil – his essay, “Terrorism – Our and Theirs’ interrogates the way the terms has been co-opted by superpowers to suit their own ends and explores the multiple historic faces of ‘terror’. A relevant and insightful piece, and a much needed reminder of the need to nurture and train young minds with the similar intellectual rigour that Ahmed possessed. Wrapping up with a history of our sporting achievements, one cannot help but notice the conspicuous absence of any indigenous thinkers and

This level of tolerance is almost inconceivable in today’s day and age in which preconceived attacks precede any attempts to understand and converse with the religious ‘other’

poets in the anthology - of which there are many: renowned in local culture but shunned in the mainstream. The book defines its purpose to spur ‘dialogue among civilisations’. But unfortunately, it offers the same story of Pakistan that we’ve been told since our schooldays and offers little new to re-imagine the idea of Pakistan and open it up to the traditionally silenced voices of the religious and ethnic minorities and marginalized groups – something that is perhaps the more urging need.

A Large White Crescent - Readings in Dialogue Among Civilizations: The Pakistani Experience Edited by Toheed Ahmed Publishers: Apa Publications, Gulberg 3, Lahore Pages: 423

Best individuals, were in fact bona fide locals… “But I did not even get the time to be deflated for not being known in Japan as the doctor quickly went on to tell me that the Spaniard was in fact Prof. Nasser Ali Khan who headed the Department of Economics at the University of Peshawar.” And at another place, he narrates the tales from his childhood and how while his father was hell bent upon ensuring that his son became an engineer like him, he found an escape route in the army before eventually tracking down his passion for travel writing… “Having always been a mediocre student I nicely blossomed into a complete disaster in the math class in high school… With my father breathing hard down my neck, I joined the army to escape the rocket equation, theory of numbers and logic.” It goes without saying that only a genuinely established and selfsatisfied individual can blend such lucidly palpable modesty into humour. And this adventurous journey has scores of such buoyantly light-hearted moments. Another indubitable quality that Salman Rashid has in his repertoire is his command over history and his adeptness in making sure that the reader is well-informed about the historical perspective of each location, while simultaneously being mesmerised by the pictorial brilliance. “I was tempted to lecture Mahmud on the twelve hundred years of the Balti connection with Yarkand. How his ancestors would have first come across to escape the Tibetans; the 16th century exchange of embassies and the constant traffic between that time and the end of the 19thcentury. “Instead, I told Mahmud of the Yerkenpa apricot that grows in Shigar and of my failed attempt to bring a sapling for a garden such as his. I also told him of the dried apricot I had in my bag for him and his family.”

The journey and the book that followed is the result of a sixteen year long aspiration and the author’s craving for discovering the history, beauty and the challenge associated with the route from Baltistan to Yarkand. The narration of the quest is enhanced by the historical referencing, illuminating maps, the sketch of wildlife, precisely pertinent stats, camping strategies, lessons from past experiences and, of course, the invigorating images. The thing with any travelogue that earmarks such a rigorous route for exploration is that sans geographical descriptions, and their much needed

an undulating lake of ice. On its far side, was a hummock of snow which I suspected would be soft into which we would sink deep this late in the morning. Beyond it, entailing a climb of no more than a hundred metres, was a mass of rock draped with ice that, according to Hasan and Hussain would require some technical work. This was the condition of the northwest face of the pass that got minimum sun. It was clear that the other side had some more badly decaying snowfields to negotiate. And these would be mush in the glare of the sun.” The book isn’t merely a travelogue, it characterises the scores of adventures meticulously, so much so that one begins to feel an affinity with them. Be it Nasser Khan, Ghulam Hussain, Hasan or Mahmud, you feel a connection with them and their inimitable manner of celebrating the art of adventure. And such is the enormity of every single contribution that when Haji Ali leaves the group at Skinmang, with “untrustworthy LeeEnfield wrapped in red plastic slung across his backpack”, one almost wishes that he wouldn’t go. Even though the cinematography has been justifiably commended in the preceding appraisals, the sheer quality of the illustrations deserves one final shout-out. The photography is breathtaking, and while the images are captured with riveting expertise, their worth is preserved by the printing of the pages that guarantees that not only one can’t put this book down once he has gone through it in its entirety, but he would inexorably take a glance at the nearest calendar he could find and search for his long disregarded backpack immediately. Salman Rashid’s energy knows no bounds, and in his endeavour to share his ardour for travelling, he has shared a masterful narration with all of us, and I feel fortunate to have gone through such an informatively joyous read.

The journey and the book that followed is the result of a sixteen year long aspiration and the author’s craving for discovering the history, beauty and the challenge associated with the route from Baltistan to Yarkand interpretations, neither the portrayal of the exertion involved nor the pictorial sense of adventure has the desired effect. And, hence Salman Rashid’s frequent tutorials of the topographical layouts and the seamless descriptions of the natural features of the terrain, round off an unblemished literary experience adroitly. The following passage is taken from the fifth chapter “Abort”, and overlaps a two-page illustration of Chiring Glacier. Standing haughtily in its mid-winter poster, the enticing tale, the voyage pertaining to its exploration and truly hypnotizing photography make the glacier’s account a riveting chronicle. And, with snow capped mountains and stunning peaks galore, this is my favourite part of the book. “Two hours of walking brought us to the spot where our duo of mountaineers had aborted yesterday. Below us lay

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Two aspects of literature

By Syed Afsar Sajid

ia Hussain Zia aka Allama and Dr. Syed Shabih-ul-Hasan are prolific and versatile writers. Their poetic and prose collections Zameen Aur Zaman Aur(Ghazlain) and Urdu Shayr-oAdab Kay Safeer form the subject of this review.

Zameen Aur Zaman Aur (Ghazlain)

Zia Hussain Zia’s versatility and craft as a creative artist find their best, and the fullest, expression in this verse collection – his maiden. Dedicated to Asadullah Khan Ghalib and Zafar Iqbal, the book carries a thoughtprovoking prologue on the author and his art, by the latter along with a flap by Muhammad Izhar-ul-Haq. The collection comprises 116 ghazals in different metrical schemes (bahrs). Muhammad Izhar-ul-Haq has lauded Zia’s creative gusto and the distinctive feature of his verse. Zafar Iqbal has dwelt at length on the artistic features of his poetics and its lexicon. He calls him a poet of context (mazmoon) with a marked propensity to philosophise. Commending his prose and nazm, Zafar Iqbal thinks that Zia’s transition to ghazal further unfolds his poetic talent. His ghazal may not address or ‘redress’ (a la Seamus Heaney) the common reader; in fact poetry is not meant for this class of readers. Zia’s verse, emanating from a ‘spatial’ mind as it does, owes its

distinctive trait to the nature of its content or subject. The poet here attempts to raise the reader to his own level of perception rather than descend to the latter’s. Moreover, the mystic in him infuses a new vigour in his creative surge. Zafar Iqbal has also commented on the diction and syntax of Zia’s poetics and believes that an innovative manipulation of words and phrases in his verse tends to immensely enrich its texture besides opening myriad vistas of ‘truth and beauty’ unto the reader. And mind you, Zafar Iqbal does not squander his words! In this backdrop, the title of the collection amply justifies itself. The cerebral context and the aesthetic texture of the imagery of his ghazal serves to enhance its appeal and carve a recognizable niche for him on the contemporary scenario of Urdu ghazal. By the by, the poet has taken a lead in placing diacritical marks on almost all words in the ghazals included in the collection ostensibly to facilitate the reader in pronouncing and reciting them with fluency. A few lines are being reproduced here to give the discerning reader a taste of Zia’s poetry: Hamain uthaey phiray hai hawa hi ranj bakaf /Keh jaisay ab to raheen-ezameen nahin rahay hain Saba say ab kay marasim nai nashist main hain /Meri ragon say koi wahm janay wala hai Sayon kay imtisal main khaincha tha hijr ko /Laikin tray wisal nay thahra diya mujhay Hum apnay dasht ki weeran ravi ka dukh laykar /Tumhari sabz

nigahoN kay paar hotay haiN Jeenay kay ehtram main mar jana chahiyay /Marnay kay ehtram ka bhi khair-oshar ho taey

Urdu Shayr-o-Adab Kay Safeer This anthology carries Dr. Syed Shabih-ul-Hasan’s considered views on some well known Urdu litterateurs living on alien shores, far away from their homeland. They include Ain Seen (Abdus Sattar) Muslim (Dubai), Ashfaq Hussain (Canada), Nasim Syed (Canada), M u h a m m a d Mumtaz Rashid (Qatar), Irfana Aziz (Canada), Syed Wasi-ul-Hasan Naqqash (US), Tasnim Abedi (Dubai), Iqbal Haider (Germany), Nazir A. Qamar (France), Urfi Hashmi (Australia), Ahmad Shahzad (Qatar) and Saira Batul (UK). The author calls these writers practising various genres of literature, ambassadors of Urdu poetry and literature.

He has highlighted their life and work in these essays besides reviewing their contribution and services to Urdu language and literature. Though settled overseas, they continue to maintain their links with their roots

Zameen Aur Zaman Aur (Ghazlain) By Zia Hussain Zia Published by: Zarnigar Book Foundation, Khayaban Colony II, Faisalabad Pages: 240; Price: Rs.300/-

and nurture and promote their rich socio-cultural values at such places through the medium of literature. The book is in fact a well-deserved tribute to these notables.

Urdu Shayr-o-Adab Kay Safeer Dr. Syed Shabih-ul-Hasan Published by: Izhar Sons, Urdu Bazaar, Lahore Pages: 528; Price: Rs.500/-

From its architectural style, the building is clearly Akbari and was probably constructed in the 1580s

By Salman Rashid

f one travels southbound along National Highway 5, one passes by villages with their names prefixed by the word ‘sarai’. If these villages do not sit exactly by the highway, they are some way off. Dr Saifur Rahman Dar, the famous archeologist, once told me that all

Sunday, 27 November, 2011

these villages are set at the distance one could travel in the course of a day. That is, thirty kilometers, give or take a few. A couple of years ago, I went looking for Sarai Chhimba and found an impressive building from the time

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Pictures by the Author

the review

The remains of the Sarai of Akbar the Great. But the walled caravan serai had been taken over by local people who are now living in it. The sad part was that every one of these residents was tearing up the place as they saw fit. The worst victim of this historical insensitivity was the destruction of the lovely, bulbous structures on the roof. Then, my friend Zafar Abbas Naqvi, a police officer and a most remarkable person, took me to Chunian. Outside of town he showed me a Mughal building that now served as home to a farming family. The single room octagon with a domed roof stood alone amid farms. Zafar had believed it was a mausoleum, but there was no sarcophagus inside, nor any trace of the passage leading to the subterranean burial chamber. We came away undecided about the nature of the building.

of alcoves, the top and bottom ones being arched while in the middle was a square niche. From its architectural style, the building is clearly Akbari and was probably constructed in the 1580s. The entrance was from the east. Inside, the building was once resplendent with colourful frescoes. Today only vestiges of that artistry remain. If nature has peeled off the plaster, ignorant, foolish man has played his part in equal measure:

Now my friend Ahmad Umair told me of a ‘mysterious’ building in a graveyard. It was mysterious because it stood alone just outside the village of Sarai Mughal midway between Bhai Pheru and Balloki. We drove out on a misty November morning and after braving the potholed farm and market roads of the country, arrived at the graveyard. There amid the tombstones and towering above a couple of houses stood Umair’s mysterious building. I have seen buildings on square plans and octagonal plans. Here was one which was an irregular octagon – something I had not seen before. The four corners had been set back to form a face complete with the decoration

names scratched into the lime plaster show how utterly in contempt we hold our national heritage. Once again, there were no graves inside nor too was there any indication of the entrance to the underground burial chamber. The interior had a bit of uneven brick paving. The young man who came around to talk to us had a fancy quasi-religious tale to tell us: this was a flourishing and beautiful city until a holy man cursed it and it went into decline. I did not ask him why it was that all holy men who we so revered were always vicious fiends who only destroyed prosperous cities and turned sweet water bitter. Why is it that in our culture a holy man must always have a malicious streak hiding just beneath a sham exterior of piety waiting to show itself at the drop of a hat? I thought the story of this evil holy man had something to do with the monument. But it just sort of fizzled out without any connection. The man said that there never had been any graves inside. However, as Umair and I were leaving we met a malang who had taken up abode in the graveyard. He told us of having heard of two graves inside. Could it be that the bit of brick paving inside was the remains of those old graves? This seems unlikely. We are superstitious people who do not destroy old graves. Since this was not

a mausoleum, it could only be a resting place for passing travellers. Remember that the village is called Sarai Mughal. That is, at some point in the past there was a caravanserai here. It would have been very like the sarai at Chhimba but for some curious reason while the latter stands to this day, albeit in a sorry state, the one at Sarai Mughal has returned to dust. There was no elderly person around to tell us if that long gone sarai

It is not only illiterate village louts who go about defacing national heritage. We also have government functionaries who have only contempt for history

was still part of local memory. But the story-telling youngster knew nothing of the sarai. Adjacent to the graveyard is a walled compound housing some government building. I don’t know why, but I have a hunch that the sarai stood at this spot until it was demolished for the new building. I have seen this happening across the country. It is not only illiterate village louts who go about defacing national heritage. We also have government functionaries who have only contempt for history. I have seen historical buildings razed to build ugly monstrosities. I have also seen men in power utterly unmoved by the destruction of heritage, men who will not move a finger to stop vandalism. For the time being, the monument of Sarai Mughal is holding its own. Soon some local family will move in to use it either as a byre or a storage room. They will fix a tin door to the façade and make holes in the walls for light fixtures. Then decay will begin. We went lured by the name of Sarai Mughal and we found an Akbari monument. But many years from now following the same lure, will not even find this small domed edifice. –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.

Art Review

Celebrating movement

The exhibition acts as a meeting point of tradition and modernity and offers an enriching aesthetic experience

By Zainab Moulvi

recent graduate of NCA and program secretary of Pakistan National Calligraphy Association, the young Bin Qullander already has an impressive array of achievements tucked under his belt. His story is a fascinating one – he hails from a family of blacksmiths and decided to pursue a career in design which he stuck to for 12 years before eventually re-orienting his artistic energies towards miniature painting, soon to followed by calligraphy. His talent has not gone unrecognized, with prominent personalities of the local art scene flocking to his exhibitions. However, one must let the art speak for itself, and his recent exhibition of calligraphic paintings entitled ‘Aliff’ at Ejaz Galleries - inaugurated by none other than

He quite obviously possesses a deeply spiritual bent of mind, and seamlessly unites this with his love of painting through mixed media on canvas

lawyer Aitzaz Ahsan certainly corroborates this tale of hard work, distinctive aesthetic vision and skill. Bin Qullander combines his background in miniature and his mastery over the technique of calligraphy to create visually powerful and moving pieces of art that resonate with a profound mysticism. He quite obviously possesses a deeply spiritual bent of mind, and seamlessly unites this with his love of painting through mixed media on canvas. He manages to capture unity and movement within the same space, using a single keyword as a centre point - which is often ‘Allah’ (SWT) – and paints this in large, bold and curvaceous strokes, usually in some shade of white which stands out against

the coloured background. He paints with a confidence and fluidity while maintaining the delicacy of the Iranian Khat-e-Shiksta and Khat-e- Diwani script. The rest of the verses emanate from, and swirl around the keyword, forming fragile, flowing patterns. Each composition reveals a similar logic – a number of the canvases are divided in two separate parts of contrasting hues, with the calligraphy often acting as an ornamental bridge between the two. The combination of precision

and fluid strokes is accentuated by the rich and soulful background colours. A circular motif appears recurrently in his works. Some of the verses and surahs that form the subjects of his works are Ayat-ul-Kursi, Surah Rehman, Surah Akhlas, Sura Al-Qadr, 4 Qul, Durood Sharif, Surah Fateha and Surah Ikhlas. Bin Qullander has a clear vision which he is able to translate onto the canvas effectively. The size of some his canvases are considerably large, the biggest one being a staggering 96x96 which when coupled with the rich textures and colours creates quite a visual impact - yet he manages to off-set this with the delicacy of his calligraphy. Shamim Akhter sings praises of Qullanders work, likening his work to ‘musicals on the beat of the dervish’. ‘There is nothing superfluous, nor does it lack anything’, she says, and indeed this is the case. There is a marked maturity in the way he tempers his passion with restraint.

Wedding season: absurdities galore! Weddings in our society have degenerated into ostentatious functions, rife with bizarre social customs and mindboggling traditions By Kunwar Khuldune Shahid

t’s that time of the year when ladies pay hefty bucks to be decked up like a Christmas tree – more often than not, with ghastly results. And at the centre of all this is the poor, suffering bride. Like barcode readers in a superstore, the probing gazes of aunties and their daughters sweep the bride from head to toe attempting to estimate the price of the ensemble. Of course, if there is any confusion regarding a price tag, the bride’s mother’s second cousins’ neighbour won’t hesitate to inquire around the wedding party to sniff out the real price. The hullabaloo surrounding this ageold custom of ruining perfectly happy lives skyrocketed to new heights this month. With a narrow twenty day corridor between Eid and Moharram, parents were busy tossing their children into the marriage cauldron like there’s no tomorrow! The result? Total chaos, and it has been hard to keep track of who is getting married to whom and hence felicitations (or indeed commiserations) have quite often been misplaced, misguided or mistimed. Now with so many wedding ceremonies coinciding on the same date – and quite often the same time – the socialites had their work cut out if they wanted to fulfil their numerous social obligations. Lahori economists especially, were busy all month trying to recreate opportunity cost formulas in accordance with the strenuous demands of the wedding season with variables

such as distance, time, budget, long-term benefit, presence of an attractive brand of the opposite sex, gender based segregation, the menu, getting away without giving a gift, and actually knowing the families involved, all thrown into the mix. A close friend of mine managed to attend nine different wedding ceremonies in Lahore on the same day – truly a noteworthy feat. Popping up in different places during rush hours in a hectic city like Lahore, would give Harry Potter and his array of brooms a run for their money; but all she needed was willpower, and a car – with its backseat crammed with hangers carrying a wide gamut of dresses, and its boot packed with matching shoes and of course a bag filled with cosmetics to go with the dresses. Owing to the two weddings that I’ve attended this month – which is two more than I’ve conjured up over the past three years – I’ve had a lot to learn about the institution of marriage and the celebration that surrounds it. A traditional Pakistani wedding is a four-act tragedy. The first act is the Mayun which takes the would-be bride into seclusion for up to two weeks, during which uptan and similar mysterious pastes are applied to beautify the bride ahead of her big day. Couple this with the strict diet that she follows for around six months, and the she is all set to

dazzle her significant other. That significant other, however, more often than not turns out to be an untidily shaven, insufficiently evolved homo erectus with an inflated spherical excuse for a belly. The second act is the Mehndi. Mehndis are hogged by choreographed dances on Bollywood songs, the current favourite being “Wanna

All the aforementioned acts also serve as the breeding ground for future nuptials, with mothers hankering around and familiarising with other owners of “bakras” that are “ripe enough” to be enticed into fatal wed-locks be my ChhamakChhalo”, and alternated by dholki, which brings out the bathroom singer in everyone. The third act is a three-pronged dilemma, with the Baraat, Rukhsati and quite often the Nikah all squeezed into this one day. The hotel/hall booked by the bride’s father is on average three to four zeroes more than one that he could easily have afforded, and the heel beneath the groom’s mother’s heavy-duty physique is on average three to four inches higher than she could’ve easily carried. This act

is marred by a plethora of bizarre customs like Mun dikhai, Joota Chhupai, and other excuses for swapping money and unnecessary giggling. After all the superfluous exercises, the main feat is undertaken and with the Rukhsati the bride is sent to ‘her own house’. The bar code scanners then fix their gazes on the potential waterfall from the bride’s eyes, and its volume – or lack thereof – is subjected to intense discussion. Walima, dinner hosted by the groom’s parents, is the one that seals the deal: a more sober event compared to the buffooneries of the previous ones. All the aforementioned acts also serve as the breeding ground for future nuptials, with mothers hankering around and familiarising with other owners of “bakras” that are “ripe enough” to be enticed into fatal wed-locks. All the events have a deviant corner by law, featuring men aged 10 and above, giving their comrades militaristic instructions to ensure detection of eye-candy in unison, without being too conspicuous. Recently though, a ladies corner along the same lines has also been witnessed, consisting of those women who are fortunate enough to escape the bakrahunt that their mothers undertake, and take it upon themselves to locate their own bakras. Nevertheless, the most momentous phases are when the food is served and the guests make a mad dash to pile their plates. After dutifully following Indian rituals and annually spending more on weddings than we do on the education sector, the Indian bashing and socio-economic crunch discussed on most wedding tables are particularly amusing and adequately sum up the absurdity that is becoming increasingly prevalent in our society.

Sunday, 27 November, 2011

Re-building the NSF:

Re-claiming the right to a different world After a 20 year hiatus, the NSF is inviting students to re-build the organisation with a vision to bring back progressive student politics By Alia Amirali

he political engagement of students in Pakistan has either been stunted, warped or externally manufactured. (IJT being the classic example of the latter two) It is no wonder that when students begin to imagine a politics of change, they look to Imran Khan: clean, charismatic and a politician basher - having been deprived of the space to imagine and build their own alternative. This lack of imagination is also to a large part because they do not know the politics of change that has existed amongst students before. The history of student politics in our nation has in large part been veiled from them. It is to bring them to imagine and engage in a real politics of change that we are building up the National Student Federation again: anti-status quo, pro-education reform, pro-free education and unaffiliated with any political party. We believe that there is another way for the youth to engage in politics – and this

would involve carving their own path as opposed to choosing merely to support someone else’s. The problems faced by the youth are not just the product of ‘corrupt politics’. Rather they are the products of a corrupt system. And it is the system that we wish to allow the student to imagine at alternative too. Let me ask you, is the ban on student unions merely the product of corruption? Is the fact that the education budget is still only 2% merely the product of corruption? We do not think so. It is a product of something

systemic. But let us, for a moment, step outside the spectrum of college-going youth. What about the working-class youth, who was not born in a mainstream cities, who dropped out of school before the age of 10, and his hopes lie in a visa to Saudi Arabia where he hours of toil without workers’ rights awaits him? What about the Baloch youth, who does worry about a job, as much as getting home alive, without being whisked away by our intelligence agencies? What about the youth who, for lack of alternate, was left by his parents at the doorstep of a madrassa where he grows up a single-tracked foot-soldier? What about the female youth who doesn’t occupy a category of public existence, because she has been banished, from the moment of birth, to the “private” sphere, in sacrifice to the mores of culture and religion? The idea of an alternate politics An alternative politics, as opposed to an alternative player in the game of musical chairs, needs to answer the hard questions thrown up above. An alternate politics subscribes to the imperative of equality for all and social and economic justice. This constitutes meaningful change, and, barring the fear of failure, the youth must not let their ideals fall short. When the NSF introduces itself it does so as an avidly Leftist organization. It does so at a point in history, when the Left is unknown to the people, but the ideals of the Left still inform their notions of a just society. History is testament to the fact that the Right wing adopted the slogans and organisational structures of the Left and claimed its strongholds through State-backing. As it stands, these old slogans and old organisational structures have grown stale. They no longer resonate with the youth and nor do they address the problems of people. At this point the Left itself must re-invent from bottom-up. The return of progressive politics to Pakistan can only come through the return of progressive politics within the youth. This is the reason why a small group of left-leaning student activists came together from different

From title page

districts in Punjab and decided to revive the anti-establishment National Student Federation (NSF). To those not familiar with its identity, the NSF was one of the earliest student organisations to have emerged in Pakistan, which took on a progressive character in 1955 in the wake of the ban imposed on its left-wing predecessor, the Democratic Students Federation (DSF). Like other progressive organisations, part and parcel of day-to-day politics in their heydays in the 1960s, the NSF is no longer a part of young people’s vocabulary. To change that, the new NSF must speak their language, it must speak to their hopes, it must speak to their reality. And thus while we inherit the political tradition of earlier generation, we are rebels to that tradition, in so far as we wish to renew it.

federation – rather than the federation be thrust top-down. Three years ago, it was a handful of students that began rebuilding the NSF, Today, the NSF Punjab has organisational structures in ten districts and is in process of forming more. Contacts, networks and alliances are being built with like-minded student organisations in districts where the NSF Punjab is without formal presence. While we have focused on building organisational capacity (at unit and district levels), each district organisations has begun to campaign on student issues, such as the privatisation of public sector colleges and universities, the commercialisation of education, the restoration of students unions, and opposing the

NSF: Creating space for an alternate vision There were also internal reasons for the decline of the Left. Democracy, as a consultative and discursive process,was not adopted. Decisions were made from central authorities without due consideration to national representation. This is the reason why we are now building the NSF bottomu p; in terms of both internal structure and regional representation. Rather than call ourselves NSF Pakistan, as previously called, we have chosen to re-organise as NSF Punjab and NSF Sindh. The purpose is to limit both our claims to territory and representation to federating units. Neither of us wants to become a self-appointed leader of the ‘centre.’ NSF Punjab hopes to address the deep depoliticisation in the proverbial “belly of the beast”. The hope is, through bottom-up growth, the autonomous ‘federating units’ of the NSF, shall come together to form a

speakers came and spoke to them, history was opened up and interrogated, and the political voice of those participating began to mature. Subsequently, many became part of the formation of the University Student Federation (USF) in a bid to counter the IJT in the PU. This was almost six months after the protests against the IJT in PU after Imran Khan was beaten had subsided. However, the rise of a new student force in PU was deemed unacceptable and on December 3, 2008, a PU Law College student was shot after a USF rally in the PU. I recall USF members contacting us as members of the then dormant Student Action Committee, Lahore (set up as an umbrella organisation to bring students together to oppose Musharraf ’s 2007 emergency). There was great hope amongst them but they found no backing amongst the JI-dominated faculty and administration of PU and the USF project faded away. In 2011, the PU Philosophy Department became the hub of anti-IJT resistance. Again, IJT members raided a PU hostel, beat up students, fired shots and got away scotfree. The same year, the Punjab government allowed the IJT to re-cement its chokehold on the PU by allowing the IJT to hold its annual convention at PU. An alternate has not been allowed to build up. In the absence of formal student unions, the informal

grip of the IJT has continued to dominate public sector colleges and deny the students any political voice. When we asked our friends what had happened, they responded, “In the absence of student unions, we are forced to work underground. The IJT with its organised structure operates without restraint. No IJT member has been disciplined yet. In the absence of student unions, students cannot vote them out of offices either.” The IJT with its focus on moral policing as its way of maintaining control over turf has crippled the political imagination of students. Whenever we wished to shift some of the substantive political debates we held into the PU, the fear of the IJT and the lack of an alternate hampered the event. However, the anti-IJT turn within the PU and other public sector universities is strong. This year, the PU Vice Chancellor himself joined anti-IJT protests (however ironic the image of the PU’s top administrator protesting and not disciplining a student group within his university be). Student elections are the only hope of displacing the IJT. But for those who scour the student political landscape and see only the crippling influence of the IJT, it was not always so and it is still not so. In the absence of formal student federations and

class-based education system. The NSF Punjab has also tried to to, where appropriate, bring together student issues with larger political issues, such as opposing the military’s hegemony over the state, opposing the so-called “war on terror”, opposing state terrorism in Balochistan and opposing the interference of IFIs and US imperialism on Pakistan. On 26 November, Faisalabad will see the NSF Punjab hold its first Convention in Punjab since 1991. We hope the Convention will provide impetus to the NSF formally entering student politics again and revive the traditional of progressive student politics. Those working to bring it up will meet the old NSF generation and get an opportunity to re-connect with our past. The stories, the heroes, the dreams which made the NSF so powerful in its heyday will be shared with us, who have grown up in times of cynicism, confusion, and conformity. The Convention will, we hope, be the dawn of a shared hope: new, energetic, driven young p e o p l e announcing their arrival in the realm of progressive politics. The toxic mix of a greed-driven economic system, a narcissistic and somewhat delusional ruling-class, and a de-humanized, individuated, and increasingly pulverized society has left one unable to imagine a different world. However small, the NSF Punjab hopes to re-claim, for students,the right to imagine a different world. We hope more will join us to bring that vision to reality. - The author is General Secretary NSF (Punjab) and teaches at Quaid-e-Azam University.

unions, middle class private sector students have formed numerous groups (political and social) to engage in social activism. Elsewhere, there is more hopeful news for those who wish for more political solutions: the Progressive Youth Front is being built for the working class youth and the National Student Federation (NSF) is rising again. The NSF Punjab has held its first convention in 20 years in Faisalabad on 26 November with the restoration of student unions central to its demands. In arguing for student unions, it is essential to take a look back at the changes within student politics. Mis-reading history: Contextualizing the rise of the IJT and militarization of student unions In the transformation of student politics from ideological, issue-based politics to turf wars, the state played a critical role. Student unions have stood as mirrors of the state and political parties. They have reflected the crises produced in the relation between State and society. In the 40s the Muslim Student Federation aligned with the Muslim League to become the flag bearer of the Pakistan movement. The MSF took on more progressive members (belonging to the Communist Party) as did the PML.