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Don’t
let the dream drown! Salute the
resilience of ordinary people Hidden in the microcosm of music musician, currently working on his album that includes a peace anthem ‘no saazish, no jang’; a peacenik and ad man Hai Jazba Junoon, Tou Himmat Na Haar Justujoo Jo Kare Woh Chuyay Aasmaan …Pakistan Kabhie Na Bhoolo — Junoon felt an unfamiliar twitch, somewhere between the heart and the stomach. Of course, I had heard and hummed this familiar Pakistani anthem by the iconic band Junoon umpteen times since school days. During Trinity College years, the jingoistic in me would often play it full throttle in the dorm usually after contentious and frenzied arguments with otherwise very close Indian friends. Best place to
do business Etiquettes of
development …a place
where ends meet Let’s all get edumacated and then… Once upon a time in Pakistan They say there was a time when the poor bled in despair while the bourgeoisie fed on vanity and others looted in the name of charity. I am surprised to notice the rulers here, who live like ordinary servants of the state. They say that once they had mastered the art of corruption to the extent that they themselves would decide the result of an election. People were struck by destruction and natural disasters time and again. People will redeem this country Celebrate the revolution in art While private TV channels have been preoccupied with broadcasting empty statements of Rana Sanaullah and Rehman Malik, the media has missed out on the quiet revolution started by artists in Pakistan. The last decade was quite a turbulent one for Pakistan but it is uplifting to see individuals flourishing regardless. Every field has unsung heroes and the Pakistan art scene has a few of its own who have become quite established in the international art world on their individual merit.
Editorial That this is a country worth living is not a sad
after-thought as yet. For all our cynicism we still have dreams. We who grew
up in this country would like our children to grow up here too. Ideally, we
want them to live their lives in what we hope to be a better Pakistan. Only
that the objective conditions have kind of depressed us. What is happening
around us, we’d rather believe, is a temporary phase. We shall leave it
behind. This is a country worth living after all. We began with this positive note this independence day. But the pessimism that we thought was characteristic of the media alone was retaliated with a rather smug remark "We told you so! Didn’t we?" Of course it meant this country was bound to fail. And from whom: from thinking people who have critically viewed the history of this region, both before and after the partition. These serious thinkers had a problem with the way this country was carved out of united India and the opportunistic politics of Muslim League. They had feared unpleasant results for the new state. These fears began to be realised with the not-so-peaceful grand migration across borders of millions of people. With the failure to formulate a constitution in the first few years leading to a martial law within ten years of its birth, the list of negatives for the new Muslim state became longer with passing years. The two-nation theory was multiplied many times over in the new state, leading to one nation becoming two countries rather early on. With the smaller nationalities pitched against a strong
centre, the quest for one nation remained a relevant slogan. The
security-state model was too strong to let the welfare model gain ground. In the brief history of Pakistan, the soothsayers and thinkers were unfortunately proved right so many times. But partition is a reality, whether they like it or not. Geography determines the identity of the believers in this country as well as the non-believers. So for all practical purposes, they are all Pakistanis — film-makers, artists, singers, journalists, teachers, peaceniks or thinkers. They think, create, sing and write for the people within this geographical domain, to begin with. Often times the multitude of problems in this country including poverty provide these cynics with their livelihood. Creative people cull out plots for their stories from this soil and so on. The resilience of the Pakistani people is its most positive attribute. Each challenge leads to a creative solution — a strong television drama under the worst dictatorship, world’s best-selling art from a country that is indifferent to art and equally best-selling literature from one of the world’s most illiterate countries, and of course a music that is being loved by the world. We may not generally like to articulate a positive vision of Pakistan for a variety of reasons but we do live positive lives. From business magnates to hard-working masses, we live by hope. Here’s to the optimism of the people of Pakistan.
Salute the resilience of ordinary people ammar ali jan It has almost become fashionable to dismiss the
possibilities for positive structural change in Pakistan. One cannot blame
such pessimists for being apprehensive about the Pakistani project. The
country’s economy is going downhill with an increase in price hike and
unemployment. The law and order situation is getting abysmal with scourge of
terrorism haunting Pakistanis on a daily basis. Recently, the worst floods
in the region’s history have devastated the country, thus re-enforcing the
narrative that only paints a bleak situation in which ordinary people are
simply helpless. That the political leadership has failed to rise to the occasion, or the constant propaganda against politics in general, has not helped raise the morale of a beleaguered nation. What is missing from this narrative, however, are recurring examples of resilience and steadfastness of ordinary citizens, demonstrated both at an individual and mass level, that still provide us with a hope that there can possibly be a turn around in the fortunes of this unfortunate land. Not many nations have had to face four different military regimes, all of which completely backed by Western powers. These regimes used the most draconian measures to suppress the voice of their people with almost complete impunity from the international community. Yet, it is the people of Pakistan, who again and again forced successive dictatorial regimes to acknowledge the voice of the masses. General Ayub Khan, General Yahya Khan and General Musharraf were forced to resign as a direct result of popular struggles initiated by the nameless and the ordinary. This is no small achievement, considering the repressive arm of the state that was at the disposal of these regimes and their willingness to use them at the slightest provocation. The heroes of this struggle for democracy had to confront the ugly face of the Pakistani state: lathi charge, tear gas, disappearances, torture, while some had to give the ultimate sacrifice by embracing their deaths. Our historiography has thus far failed to acknowledge this spirit of resistance displayed by such unsung heroes of our land but one hopes their names and sacrifices will one day be recovered from the pages of history. The issue of terrorism is again one such issue that was thrust upon the people of Pakistan by an authoritarian government backed by Western powers who today bleed for democracy and "women rights" in Pakistan. It should of course be a cause of concern that religious extremists have established a foothold in our society. However, what should give us a big reason to celebrate is that despite massive funding from both the CIA and our own intelligence apparatus, suppression of liberal and secular politics, dissemination of religious orthodoxy in schools and provision of arms to religious groups, the people of Pakistan have still managed to ignore such extreme in electoral politics. This is further proof of the fact that there is constant resistance to the hegemonic discourse emanating from the state. There are many other instances that should give us some reason to be proud in such bleak times. Despite floggings, disappearances and outright murders, Pakistani journalists have always managed to challenge the government of the day. The constant natural and man-made disasters have not only been a major set-back for us as a nation, but it has also brought the best out in our society. Today, youngsters are initiating fund-raising drives all over the country to help the flood victims which is an extremely refreshing sight. When you see old men riding their bikes in this smouldering heat, and stopping to contribute a hundred rupees for the victims of these floods, you do feel that it may still be rational to dream for a better future. Out of all these things, what impresses me the most about our people is their ability to exist in one of the toughest regions in the world and yet manage to maintain a smile on their faces. Despite knowing that all "breaking news" are almost always going to be negative, they have retained their ability to humour, to love, to respect and to sacrifice. In extraordinary and catastrophic times, such as the ones we live in today, existence in itself becomes a form of resistance, something that we have mastered. It is in such tales of resistance that we must look up to if we are to ever imagine a radically different conception of the state and society we wish to live in. It is indeed better than simply cursing the existing sorry state of affairs.
Hidden in the microcosm of music shahvaar ali khan musician, currently working on his album that includes a peace anthem ‘no saazish, no jang’; a peacenik and ad man Hai Jazba Junoon, Tou Himmat Na Haar Justujoo Jo Kare Woh Chuyay Aasmaan …Pakistan Kabhie Na Bhoolo — Junoon felt an unfamiliar twitch, somewhere between the heart
and the stomach. Of course, I had heard and hummed this familiar Pakistani
anthem by the iconic band Junoon umpteen times since school days. During
Trinity College years, the jingoistic in me would often play it full
throttle in the dorm usually after contentious and frenzied arguments with
otherwise very close Indian friends. Yet, on this particular occasion, ‘Jazba-e-Junoon’ shouting out of an antiquated transistor radio from the corner of a chai (tea) stall entailed an entirely novel, almost surreal, dimension for me. It was past midnight in mid December and I was sipping tea in the middle of Amritsar, India. Young college-going Sikh boys, lost in the trance of this insane juxtaposition of desi rhythm, mad vocals and rock riffs, were perhaps oblivious of the lyrics or consciously extracting out the larger patriotic connotation. They were clearly just having fun. May be it was a Pakistani FM station beaming out of Lahore, my hometown, and Amitsar’s twin city, a few miles more than a stone’s throw away across the border. However, the adman in me could not resist delving deeper. On inquiry all they could connect to and blurted out in almost unison was "Junoonaa — Pa Ji, Pakastani band!" Today, as I saunter across, puffing away in a similar narrow winding lane in Lahore, listening to Rafi’s ‘Main Zindagi Ka Saath Nibhaata Challa Gaya’ (film Hum Dono) from an Amritsar radio station, the power of that ‘Jazba-e-Junoon’ moment in India remains etched in my memory. Amidst ‘enemy’ territory that night, the Pakistani in me had gloated and inflated in ‘genuine’ pride (my shoulders must have broadened for at least a few hours!), while the musician within me was further humbled at the sheer transnational impact of good music — good Pakistani, albeit patriotic, music that ironically represented and was appropriated as peaceful ‘apolitical’ ‘Pakistaniat’, in an otherwise hostile ‘political’ India. Like hate, terrorism, bigotry, imperialism, floods and war, music also does not have borders, but it does indeed have the ability to exude the ‘right’ identity and ethos of a particular community/nation. Hidden in the microcosm of music, this incident helped me realise that Pakistan and ‘Pakistaniat’ — at least for me — is this very ‘Idea of Pakistan’, envisaged by our forefathers in pluralism, co-existence, diversity, democracy, peace and welfare; almost a philosophy that transcends geographical, religious, class, ethnic, political and ideological boundaries. And what makes a Pakistani, a proud Pakistani even in India, without being adversarial. This dream for Pakistan has already been dreamt decades ago. I just have to make sure it doesn’t drown. Peace Zindabad, Pakistan Zindabad!
salim ghauri ceo and chairman, netsol technologies I returned to Pakistan about 15 years ago after a
successful career abroad as an IT consultant. At that time, I had no idea I
would realise my dream of creating a success story. Over the years, I have
met senior executives of the world’s leading companies, as well as
prominent international leaders and diplomats. I’ve also met people who
were concerned about the country’s state of affairs. But having travelled
across the world, I know that most of us do not realise how well endowed and
fortunate we are as a nation. Having worked with people in different parts of the world, I have come to appreciate the strength of our people. It lies in our resilience in finding solutions to complex problems. In the most testing of times, we have maintained our composure and resisted pressures to disintegrate. During the wars that we have fought, the national calamities that we have faced and negative international projections that we have weathered, it is plain wonderful that we still find great strength within ourselves to push on. I listen to people who worry that it is difficult to do business with the world from Pakistan as companies are wary of sending people to troubled countries such as ours. International businesses look for reliable international partners who can serve them from safe and peaceful locations. I share with these people my experience of inviting our existing and prospective business partners to Pakistan. I have seen foreigners arrive with lots of apprehension, but once they are here and have seen the infrastructure, the people and the richness and diversity of culture, they have almost invariably wanted to come back and do more business with us. I have never regretted my decision to return to Pakistan 15 years ago, and locate my business here. In fact, I consider myself fortunate because the country and its people have helped me enjoy enviable success as an entrepreneur and representative of Pakistan.
rabia ezdi specialist in urban development, independant researcher, freelance writer; member of teaching faculty, department of architecture, nca One does not have to look far to find virtue in Pakistan.
It makes you wonder — why the trouble? It is easy to dream up images of a
Pakistan that has all the right attributes: public space where people of all
kinds interact as equals; where the pedestrian has ample zebra crossings and
does not have to scurry across in humiliation; where women share the public
domain at ease; where there is utmost respect for nature; where wealth,
opportunities and the basics of life are distributed equitably to the many
that need, rather than the few that have; and where decision-making is
representative of the wishes and aspirations of a cross-section of society. But, in truth, these features are only the visible end-products. The question is: what ingredients of change really lay at the root of these potent ambitions? A year ago, a friend and I were walking along Lahore’s canal, observing the widening of the road and its repercussions on people. We came across a gentleman whose small shop was to be torn down. "The road widening will not benefit people like me," he said. "I am a cyclist, and the road is being widened for those who drive cars. Still, I support it if it is for the cause of development. "But…," he added, "the problem is that these days people have forgotten that certain etiquettes have to be followed in everything. And, our rulers have forgotten the etiquettes of development." He summed it in a nutshell. ‘Etiquette’, in its broadest sense, is a concern for the bigger picture — the ‘we’, letting the greater good prevail over the private benefit. In other words, taking responsibility and nurturing the basic human instinct of fairness. It is as simple as serving one’s profession with a keen work ethic, to respecting the queue, to establishing justice in our dealings. Our ethos — the fundamental spirit of culture — is shaped by our basic values. And, our values create our attitudes. What we accept as good and progressive, and what we shun as evil and shameful; what we fear, what we desire; what we take pride in, what we mock; what we see as a weakness, and what we see as strength. These beliefs drive our thought, action, and talk — at the highest levels of authority, through to the lowest echelons of society; in the greatest of national decisions and the smallest of personal concerns. And, it is values that in the end create or destroy a nation. I dream of a Pakistan where our value system has undergone a complete overhaul. Where rather than wealth and might being ideals, honesty and fair play are held in highest esteem. Where real ‘poverty’ is seen to be that of the spirit and conscience. Where hard work is envied, not pitied. Where people talk straight and keep their promises. Where sycophancy is deplored. Where the voices of the common man are heard willingly, not by force. Where diversity is embraced. Where rights are not misunderstood to be privileges. And those that govern see themselves as trustees of the people, not kings. A Pakistan where people are self-assured and do not live in threat of who is ‘tougher’ and ‘superior’. And value the boundless possibilities in every day. I dream of a Pakistan where ‘crisis’ is taken as an opportunity to reassess and reform. And struggles and pains are overcome through unity, dignity and self-help. Most importantly, a Pakistan where the countless potential in us is recognised in gratitude, and utilised as the raw material for renewal.
zeerak ahmed computer science major at princeton; writes on pakistani visual art and music A few years ago I heard a German song by a band called the Farin Urlaub Racing Team. The song is titled Pakistan, and roughly translated, here’s how the lyrics go: With a bike through the desert, by bus through Vietnam. We’ve been waiting for years, to drive off. Without a goal, without a program, we are still here but soon we can make it to Pakistan. With the boat to Japan, on a donkey to Peru. I see our flight path, I think of the traveling. I wait for you, what are you waiting for? If nothing works here, then we meet in Pakistan. Away, away, far away ... Without nostalgia, no home, without case, no money. We will disclose this in our memoirs Once around the world, we are still here But soon we will write to you from Pakistan The moment I found this was a weird moment in my life. I was of course, taken by surprise, was happy, and had perhaps a brainwave that over all this time has turned into a vision. Some call it hysterical, some idealistic and others just stupid. But I will stick with it. I imagined the Pakistan in the song. It sounded like a fun place. A place to escape from life, a place where memoirs are written and a place where ends meet. Pakistan, even today, is a place where ends meet. As a land, we have seen the world’s oldest civilisations, the world’s first education systems (believe it or not!), reigns of some of the greatest empires of their times and also the worst. As a people, we have seen Hindu, Sikh, Buddhist and Muslim preachers, we have lived through wars of various kinds and against various enemies, we have got ourselves some good music, great food and a sense of humour to match. We have seen tastes of the developed world and the worst disasters in human history. To put it in a nutshell, we have been there, done that. We are now at war with ourselves. Now, for once, questioning who we are and what our conscience is. At the end of the tunnel, there is a light though, and it’s not an oncoming train. It is a realisation. What is my dream Pakistan? It is exactly that, a place where ends meet, a realisation: where the splendour of the British Raj makes peace with the magnificence of the Mughal Empire; where Western standards meet Eastern flair; where the various races, ethnicities and sects realise that they’ve been wrong in killing each other for their differences; where a tabla plays percussions to a guitar solo; where India meets the Middle East; where the influences of the Mughals, the British, Hinduism, Sikhism, Buddhism, the modern west, Jinnah and Islam coexist. I don’t understand clichés. Ironic as it is, however, a song did just change my life. This is home, and I’m staying to see the phoenix rise from the flames. Let’s all get edumacated and then… sami shah The question posed to me was: How can we fix Pakistan?
Apparently, my inability to find much success as a comedian, combined with
my love for comics, makes me an ideal candidate to answer this. It certainly
can’t be because of any perceived celebrity status. I am to celebrity what
beetroot is to vegetables, an embarrassing last-minute addition that barely
makes the cut. Maybe I should let this inflate my ego and answer as a Real
Celebrity. Some kind of semi-obvious solution that is generic and non-threatening enough to not hurt my personal brand: "Ooh, education is the answer, yeah! Let’s all get edumacated and then once we have book-learnin’ n stuff we can all hold hands and sing together." Will that do? How about: "More fashion shows will help Pakistan because fashion defeats the Taliban and we can all look good." Or, some such. Believable enough? Or, maybe, I can go the other route of the new Celebrity Persona, which involves conspiracy theories and under-considered polemics: "We need a revolution, yaar! An Islamic revolution! In green! Against the Bilderburger group! And Zionists! And Hindus! And Jains! Yaar! Islamic Power! Yaar!" Sadly, I can provide neither of those. Nor will I waste time coming up with something I think is funny, only to have you read it dismissively, mumble something like "You’d think a comedian would be funny" and then go back to scratching your unmentionables, or however you spend your day. I’m not judging you. So here, instead, is my wholly serious, actually practical and genuinely believed-by-me solution to Pakistan’s problems: MANDATORY MILITARY SERVICE. I don’t understand why we don’t have this. Finland does. So does Israel. I’ve met people from both countries and can see the difference it makes. If every 18-year-old is tossed into the armed services until they are 21, it will make an immense difference to the values and practices of the nation. It affects class distinction. If the rich son of an industrialist or the mega rich son of a President has to serve in the army shoulder to shoulder with the boy who would otherwise be begging on the street or cleaning his car, it changes their relationship. Make them spend two years in a tent together, marching under the sun and learning the same survival skills. Secondly, it will instill a more realistic and proportionate sense of patriotism. It’s easy to say "I love Pakistan" when you don’t know what that entails. The enlistment can also help provide basic education to the enlisted people. Make it gender-neutral. People will think twice about disrespecting a woman who has had two years of martial arts and weapons training. And, best of all, in times of crisis, like say if a flood hits or an earthquake strikes, you have more qualified and capable people with training ready to help. Would I have lasted in this service? No. A weakling like me would have died of exhaustion on day one. Which would have saved you from my writing. See it’s a win-win situation. And we can use the other celebrities as target practice.
ali zafar I have landed in Pakistan, a country surrounded by serenity, seduced by a sincere sense of security; people of various sects, religion and race walking hand in hand, ignorant of disparity, in a place once hard to maintain sanity. They say there was a time when the poor bled in despair
while the bourgeoisie fed on vanity and others looted in the name of
charity. I am surprised to notice the rulers here, who live like ordinary
servants of the state. They say that once they had mastered the art of
corruption to the extent that they themselves would decide the result of an
election. People were struck by destruction and natural disasters time and
again. What brings me to Pakistan is not business; in fact, I have come to capture the scenic beauty of the most breathtaking mountains and well reserved rivers. The thought of terrorism did send shivers down my spine. But, they tell me, that was long ago when there was no one to deliver. I am curious to know how they got out of their plight. How did they begin to live and not just survive? How come their politicians now worry about peace and progress rather than the old ostentatious means to stick to the throne? Love and no lawlessness prevail, and they seem all set to show the world ‘how’. A woman’s life and happiness that was once left to the mercy of her husband, father or brother is not so anymore. Art was burnt and artists were in pain while the musicians hit it in vain. He who spoke some wisdom was considered insane. Exposed was it all by the media and put to shame but sometimes the anchors themselves got involved in the game. I love the music of this land. It is like slipping sand in an angelic hand. It is like pouring water on God’s demand. How must one fathom the versatility of its resonance, for all you hear in it is the innocence of a child. It might’ve taken a hundred years for this land to reach at this pristine state of innocence, but they say it was worth every note that sang, every word that wrote, every eye that saw, every drop that bled and every word unsaid. What’s beneath my feet is not just soil, they say. It is the lives and souls of those crushed to make us step on a surface that smells like soya and shines like diamonds. This, I am told, is the new Pakistan.
People will redeem this country dr mahmood-ul-hassan We may not have strong institutions in this country but we do have hard-working people. If we utilise their contribution, we can take this country way forward. I have great faith in the masses of this country who have the potential to do a lot for this country. It is the people of this country who will strengthen the democratic institutions as they have done in the past. Democratic institutions are my first priority because
most of this country’s problems are due to its non-democratic forces.
After that, the sectors which need immediate input in terms of priority are
education, health, and finally justice for the masses. This is what we are all struggling for — moving forward with this sense of optimism that this shall become a democratic, educated, secular and tolerant country. Some people may think this as unrealistic optimism but it is absolutely realistic for me. I share the general perception that the huge defence budget is responsible for the shrinking health and education budgets. The military versus democracy struggle is 60 year old in this country and it is the people of Pakistan who have played a key role in this — be it the Lawyers’ Movement or MRD struggle during Ziaul Haq’s time. This is the history that needs to be highlighted. People who have given sacrifices for democracy and against dictatorships need to be promoted. As for me, I made this conscious decision, way back in 2001 as soon as I had completed my PhD, to come back to Pakistan and join a public sector institution. I knew that one could contribute only in the public sector. Private sector education is class-based and costly and the only impact it has made is to produce graduates and send them abroad. Of course, there is a general brain-drain and we started losing our doctors to foreign countries pretty early. The best doctors were indeed produced and trained in the public sector but they left the country because health was not a priority in this country. I realised that private sector addresses only a limited class while the masses have been kept deprived generally of all facilities. Since I come from a rural background — I got my early education from a village in Dera Ghazi Khan — as a teacher I find students from Sargodha and DG Khan performing well in the Punjab University and that makes me wonder if education became expensive, where would these students end up? I have a great sense of achievement when these very students go abroad and do their PhDs in Western universities and compete with other students. I hope these students come back and serve their country and many of them express this wish, too. It is ironic to have high expectations about the working conditions here — and many of the students educated abroad do complain — because we were trained here in these very environment.
Celebrate the revolution in art artist While private TV channels have been preoccupied with broadcasting empty statements of Rana Sanaullah and Rehman Malik, the media has missed out on the quiet revolution started by artists in Pakistan. The last decade was quite a turbulent one for Pakistan
but it is uplifting to see individuals flourishing regardless. Every field
has unsung heroes and the Pakistan art scene has a few of its own who have
become quite established in the international art world on their individual
merit. While I believe there is some truth in the fact that individual success leads to collective success, there does come a point when institutions need to be developed so that we can perfect our individual successes and feel less alienated. Nevertheless, change does not occur overnight and, in a country where democracy is still stumbling through shadows of past errors, we can hope that art gets patronage of both public and private sectors. Once we collectively strengthen the system — like any successful institution which requires a joint effort from various players (artists, curators, art teachers, critics, collectors and gallery owners) — we will see a radical improvement in the infrastructure of the art scene of Pakistan. Despite the lack of proper infrastructure, a few contemporary galleries like Grey Noise are participating in international art fairs. In recent years, we have also had exhibits like the National Survey shows Hanging Fire at the Asia Society Museum New York and Resemble-Reassemble at Devi Foundation India. Last month, the NCA in collaboration with oneninetwo PVT Ltd launched Sohbet, a contemporary art journal. Such critical discourse of academic value is quite essential in sustaining the current success of "contemporary art from Pakistan". Contribution of collectors like Amna & Ali Naqvi and Khurrum Kasim cannot be undermined either. Last but not least is the role of academia. Art institutions such as Indus Valley School of Art and Architecture, National College of Arts, the Fine Arts Department of Karachi University have been the most effective factors in mentoring artists in this country. Beaconhouse National University (BNU), it can be easily said, has literally shaped the last five years of contemporary art in Pakistan. The faculty and recent graduates at the School of Visual Arts and Design (SVAD) at BNU are making a remarkable difference by participating in international art exhibits and residencies and the strength of this place lies in the strong credentials of the few individuals involved. Perhaps the time has come when we, as a nation, could stop brooding and celebrate our collective success and create a better tomorrow for the future generation. The solution lies in the hope that we allow democracy to take its course and in that we stop trying to point out which drop of rain is to be held responsible for the floods |
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