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politics Yeh Woh Cough
links interpretation The
long march to destruction Sceptic’s
Diary
The Bhuttos are to
Pakistan what Gandhis are to India, the Kennedys to the US, the Bandaranaikes
to Sri Lanka and the Aquinos to The Philippines — torchbearers to democracy
itself, their tragic family histories serving as the political histories of
their very countries. It’s hard to pry aside their personal lives from the
political evolution of their countries. Having said that, it’s
astonishing that there hasn’t been a Bhutto in parliament for 13 years
running even though the party has. In this while, several rulers have come
and gone – dictators and democrats, full time and part time, local and
imported, and the young and the old. The Pakistan People’s Party, which is
difficult to imagine without the Bhuttos, has even succeeded in completing a
full term in office at the national level — a rare phenomenon in itself —
without a Bhutto in parliament or government, or even being in the country
for most part, for that matter. Old party, new life Is this resilience? Or a
new life for an old party to re-invent itself for a new age? Doesn’t look
that way if the anointment of Bilawal Bhutto-Zardari is anything to go by.
His job description of leading Pakistan’s most popular party — which has
come to power in elections more times than any other party in the country (in
1970, 1977, 1988, 2003 and 2008) — isn’t new. At age 19 he was appointed
chairman after his mother, Pakistan’s first woman prime minister was
tragically assassinated in 2007. His father — President Asif Zardari —
has kept the seat warm for him as co-chairman while Bilawal completed his
studies at Oxford. In fact Bilawal is still
ineligible to participate in elections and run for a seat of the National
Assembly until September 2013 when he attains the age of 25 in the month that
Zardari’s 5-year tenure as a democratically elected president expires.
However, age is no bar for him to do politics, run an election campaign and
to whip up his party in shape for the electoral battle that has already
unfolded. He intends to do all this as his first formal party speech as
chairman and maiden public address marking the fifth death anniversary of
Benazir Bhutto demonstrated. It’s about the party, not
the leader Bilawal’s formal
ritualistic ascendance as the third generation of Bhutto in formal politics
should not be trifled away amid jokes about boy leaders, accented Urdu,
kitschy slogans and the anachronism of dynastic politics in democracies.
Considering Pakistan’s chequered political history, his success or failure
will impact PPP and, therefore, the country itself. Like it was with Zulfikar
Bhutto and Benazir Bhutto before him, with Bilawal’s fate will be tied the
fortunes of the most influential political party in Pakistan’s history.
And, by that measure, what happens to PPP will impact Bilawal forever. Dynastic politics may not
be desirable but in Pakistan dynasties have been successfully used to blunt
the Establishment’s relentless efforts to discredit and break up parties.
In this context, focusing on Bilawal and not the PPP would be missing the
woods for the trees. It would be a mistake to view Bilawal formal launching
himself into practical and full-time politics as merely his personal matter.
His entry into politics should be viewed as a new chapter in PPP’s politics
and the party’s unfolding strategy to shape its responses to new challenges
in an old Pakistan. The PPP has many strengths:
it is a survivor having surmounted some vicious witch hunts by brutish
dictators as well as machinations of more publicly acceptable meanies; it has
been owned by the country’s armies of the poor; it bravely professes
liberal and secular ideals in a conservative milieu; in a man’s world it
has given the country leadership of women that even its opponents respect; it
proffers ideals and promises that have universal appeal in a multi-national,
multi-ethnic and multi-lingual country. And, perhaps most importantly, in a
land where people forget quickly, are even quicker to withdraw support, it
has been entrusted by a majority of voting voters no less than five times in
the last 40 years to make life better for them even though it has largely
failed them each time albeit due to external factors. Three challenges Finishing its stint in
power, the new challenge for PPP is threefold. The first challenge is to go
into election for a comeback, which is easier said than done for any party in
harsh, cynical Pakistan. The PPP has never been allowed to do this despite
the one time in 1977 when it was re-elected with a majority but ended up
losing out to a martial law that devoured its founding chairman and imposed
the long, harrowing rule of a constipated dictator. The second challenge is to
complete the process of leadership transition begun with Bilawal’s symbolic
appointment as chairman in an emergency in 2008 after the latest
assassination of a Bhutto. His father and “uncles” (unlike Benazir’s
party ‘uncles’) have managed to thwart all attempts at sabotaging the
party and its government many times — including by the military, the
judiciary and the media — and its time they hand the full advantage to
Bilawal going into elections. The third challenge is to
stay relevant as there are more Pakistanis now born after the party was
formed than those before it and there are more first time voters now than
when the last chairperson, Benazir, wooed and won all the voters to her side
to vote for PPP in 1993, making her prime minister. Making matters worse, a
majority of voters aren’t old enough to have seen the party and its last
leader Benazir and understood the messy transition of the 1990s. Why parties are important If Pakistan is to be a
perpetual democracy, then political parties must be respected and protected
— especially those that espouse inclusivity, liberalism and egalitarianism
in a multi-national, multi-ethnic, multi-linguist, multi-sectarian state as
ours. Without political parties that have large footprints and which
represent the interests of a wide-based plurality such as Pakistan’s, the
country will flounder by making it easier for non-democratic forces to force
themselves upon a majority of the citizens. Parties — not just PPP
but those that have large bodies of followers such as Nawaz Sharif’s PML-N,
Asfandyar Wali’s ANP and Altaf Hussain’s MQM, among others — are
important for Pakistan’s democratic project as they embody collective will
and are the closest power tool that comes to a communal endeavour to
establish an environment in which groups of people believe they will thrive
and prosper. In a democracy the majority
party in parliament, or a coalition of a simple majority, gets the right to
impose its vision and values even if they run contrary to the views or
beliefs of other parties that fail to win the right to access to state
resources needed to put them into practice. However, in a democracy the chief
winner comes to power only after being given a mandate. That’s why it’s
interesting — and important — to see a change of guard into Pakistan’s
oldest post-Pakistan popular party that has won its trust by winning five of
the eight party-based general elections that have been held. The right leader? But it’s a fair question
to ask if Bilawal is really the right leader for PPP at this point in time?
After all, people vote for political parties that have leaders they believe
can deliver for them and keep their word. Voters trust their leaders as they
trust their own family members. If they fail, they lose their right to lead.
The political parties are fuelled by voters’ trust and must be accountable
for keeping their promises and delivering on the mandate given them. For Bilawal, as for
Zulfikar Ali Bhutto and Benazir Bhutto, it is going to be anything but easy.
In today’s Pakistan you can’t make promises of facilitating a new social
contract, guarantee equal rights, opportunities and justice for all, a more
representative and accountable government that puts people at the center of
all national enterprise and not keep these promises and get away with it. The new Pakistan is not
about whether Bhutto and Benazir’s murders can be avenged or not, or about
whether Imran Khan and Tahirul Qadri are real alternatives; it’s about what
is right or wrong for the people who are sending parties to power to exercise
it on their behalf, not use it for their personal privilege. They want
leaders who lead by example, not just operate on rhetoric. If Bilawal cannot grasp
this simple fact — and he deserves the benefit of doubt for now — and
does not focus on the raison d’etre of being in office, the party is over.
He certainly has precedents he needs to emulate, if not beat, right at home.
Zulfikar Ali Bhutto and Benazir Bhutto earned their stripes by staying the
course, suffering untold deprivations and ultimately assassinations as the
high price to pay in politics for democracy. Not just for the party but for
Pakistan. Bilawal will have to earn his stripes the hard way. caption Bilawal will have to earn
his stripes the hard way By Adnan Rehmat
Yeh
Woh Zulfiqar Ali Bhutto
is lucky he didn’t live to see his brainchild – the political party he
founded and that quickly became an election winner – given away as a potty
training aid to his grandchild. It is a tribute to
Bhutto’s magic that his children and their children have continued to use
the bloodline card to hide their mediocrities and to endear themselves to
masses. ‘Zinda hei Bhutto zinda hei’ Benazir shouted to the crowd in
Liaqat Bagh 28 years after Bhutto was hanged, and minutes before she was
killed as she left the election rally in Rawalpindi. ‘Zinda hei BB zinda
hei’ shouted Bilawal Bhutto-Zardari to the crowd in Garhi Khuda Bakhsh at
the fifth anniversary of his mother’s murder. Like her, he has nothing to
offer the party members he inherits, except his bloodline. Like her, he hopes
to learn politics by starting at the top of the family-owned political party.
Pakistan Peoples Party may
have ‘peoples’ as its middle name but it has always been a family jewel.
Bhutto claimed sole proprietorship of the party after he sidelined other
co-founders and made his wife Nusrat co-chair for life. Benazir stripped her
mother of this responsibility and then transferred the leadership to her
husband and son through will. The celebrated widower, Asif Ali Zardari, has
merely obeyed the last wish of his shaheed bibi by heading the party as a
regent and raising Bilawal as the rightful sovereign in exile. PPP has been,
for all practical purposes, a large and profitable cattle farm owned by
Bhutto family and now co-owned by Zardaris. Modern, secular and well
educated that all three Bhutto generations are, none has had any qualms about
practicing feudalism and politics of inheritance while preaching
egalitarianism and democracy. But then perhaps grandpa Bhutto was expecting a
lot more talent, tact and class in his progeny than has been on display,
especially by the latest arrival, Bilawal. The young man was brought up in
Dubai, educated in UK, and presented on the world stage as an internee leader
of the largest political party of Pakistan and a prime minister-in-waiting,
before he was launched into active politics in the dying days of his
father’s five-year rule. Though at 24, he is still too young to contest
parliamentary elections. “The PPP is not just a
political party. This is our life,” said the young leader in what was
perhaps the only candid and honest comment in his otherwise painfully clichéd
speech delivered in the fiery style of his grandpa, and imitating the cute
accented Urdu of his mother. The one factor common among all the political
dynasties in South Asia is they speak English better than their mother tongue
or national language. The young Bhutto knows his home province and his home
country from the books he read at Oxford and he knows the impoverished
millions he has to lead, from the narratives of his father and his
associates. He does not know either the people or the place first-hand and
therefore had nothing to say to or about them. He spoke of the sacrifices
made by members of his family, party workers, and others such as Shia Muslims
shot dead in ongoing sectarian violence and Malala Yusafzai, and asked the
crowd rhetorically why the murderers were not apprehended. He should have put
this question to his father who has occupied the highest office in the land
for more than four years. He should have asked his party that is in power at
centre and in three provinces, why it has failed to protect the life of
ordinary citizens, especially women and children, and why his mother’s
assassination hasn’t been conclusively investigated in five years. There are “two powers”
in Pakistan, he enlightened his listeners: “Those on the right path and
those on the path of lies.” It is obvious he assumes the present and past
party leadership to be on the right path, but like his predecessors he would
not name those on the path of lies. He was as vague on issues and as lucid on
populist slogans as a child politician is expected to be. Going by his maiden
speech at this watershed moment in his life, he comes across as the innocent
son pushed into a leadership role by a street smart politician father, rather
than a carrier of ZA Bhutto’s genes. Those in the PPP who wish
to be led and ruled by a Bhutto – and are willing to settle for a Bhutto-Zardari
– will have to wait for many years before the last male in the family grows
up, and will have to make do with Asif Zardari in the meantime. masudalam@yahoo.com
The recent tragic
deaths of more than 40 people in Gujranwala, reportedly due to consumption of
“toxic” cough syrup Tyno, have come as one of the most shocking news of
the outgoing year. To a great extent, it was a repeat of the tragedy in which
around 20 people lost their lives in Shahdara, Lahore a little more than a
month ago. Like always, the government
of Punjab came into action after the first incident and there were
allegations, counter-allegations, arrests, bails, and acquittals. Besides,
drug manufacturing facilities were raided and samples taken into custody for
investigation purposes. In the end, there was no
output at all and the findings of the investigations, if there were any, were
not shared with the public. Those arrested were released and thousands of
bottle of the same suspected syrup started reaching racks of pharmacies and
medical stores. The only plausible
explanation given at that time was that it seemed the victims had taken high
dosage of the syrup. They had reportedly done that to feel high and had mixed
it with other harmful ingredients to get a multiplying effect. As the victims
mostly belonged to low-income groups and many of them habitual consumers of
the said syrup and its substitutes, the responsibility was fixed with them
(who had perished). There was no mention of why
deaths in such large numbers had never taken place earlier, though the syrup
in question had been there for decades and so those addicted to it. However this time, there
are other dimensions to the whole affair. There are aspects which were
criminally neglected during the investigations into the Lahore tragedy. Had they been taken care of
at that time, the deaths in Gujranwala could have been averted, believes Ali,
who works with a pharmacy which has its branches in different cities. He tells TNS the Punjab
government’s investigation teams have found issues with the raw material
dextromethorphan used in the cough syrup consumed by victims and affectees in
Gujranwala. The raw material, as per statement of Nisar Ahmad Cheema,
Director General Health, Punjab, is an active pharmaceutical ingredient (API)
imported from India, he adds. Ali doubts the same
ingredient could have caused deaths in Lahore but at that time it was not
possible to ascertain this. Citing newspaper report, he says the stock of
Tyno syrup distributed under batch number 5552 was assumed to be harmful but
investigators could not get hold of even one such bottle. All they could get
was a half-filled bottle from a patient but it belonged to the stock released
under batch number 5529,” he says adding: “May be the defective stock
removed at that time has once again reached medical stores.” Ali’s company has reacted
in time and stopped the sale and purchase of Tyno syrup and all other cough
syrups containing dextromethorphan. “All the syrups whose names carry DM
(acronym for dextromethorphan) at the end have this ingredient and should be
avoided at this time,” he suggests. He adds the cough syrups
consumed by addicts reach them through different means and many people
manufacture their fake versions without the knowledge of the original
manufacturer. Custodians of shrines, graveyards etc provide this facility to
the visitors on the spot. Gujranwala Commissioner
Abdul Qadir Shaheen’s revelation that the cough syrup involved in the
incidents in and around Gujranwala is not sold under a single brand confirms
Ali’s assertions to an extent. The commissioner has also pointed out the
presence of certain manufacturers in the city who make cough syrup
exclusively for drug addicts and bypass the conventional distribution
mechanism to reach their target market. This supports the stance of
Pakistan Pharmaceutical Manufacturers’ Association (PPMA) which smells a
conspiracy in maligning Reko Pharma — the company which manufactures Tyno
syrup and has been in the market for around 50 years. However, the
association’s office-bearers have also met the Punjab government officials
and assured them they would not use raw material imported from India in their
products. This way they have distanced themselves from the controversy and
endorsed the government version of raw material being defective — both at
the same time. The government teams had
raided several factories in and around Shahdara in December and sealed many
of them but fixed the responsibility mainly with Reko Pharma, says a PPMA
member who does not want to be named. In his opinion, the government wanted
to hide its inefficiency by not declaring that these factories were
responsible for producing intoxicating syrups. The factories which were
sealed included Medi Pharma at Kalakhatai Road, Health Grow, Sharaqpur Road,
Rose Pharma, Sharqpur Road, Qasim Herbal Lab, Shahdara, Unani Lab Shahdara
and A.S Homeo Lab Shahdara and their names were also released to the media. Dr Tahir Khalil, Additional
Medical Superintendent, Emergency Department, Mayo Hospital, Lahore terms the
practice a regular phenomenon. He tells TNS the hospital has received 40
patients affected by Tyno syrup overdose in a month. “Only one of them died
here while one was received dead.” The doctor says the addicts
must have been adding something to the syrup. “Alone it cannot kill. The
victims had code words for it and Kosar was one. That is what they would ask
for at medical store counters and once they had the stuff with them they
would get together and take it in groups.” The AMS does not agree that
overdose can kill. “If the constitution of the syrup is right and a person
consumes a whole bottle, he will fall asleep but won’t die. The suspicion
that something was wrong with the constitution of the syrup, cannot be ruled
out and will be revealed once the investigation report is out.” The doctor tells TNS the
families of the affected people have posed ignorance about their activities.
“They say they come home after taking some syrup and they (the families)
have never seen them taking any syrup at home. Those affected said they had
taken it for the first time.” The question still
unanswered is how to avoid such incidents in future. Dr. Akhtar Lang,
Professor of Community Medicine at the King Edward Medical University (KEMU)
has a suggestion. He says the only way to avoid such tragedies is to allow
sales of medicines only on prescriptions as anything misused will hurt. “This is not the only
syrup that people use as addiction, there are other syrups as well. Check
other sources of addiction now that accidents have come to the fore. There is
need to identify such syrups and drugs easily available from the counter and
do something about them. People can get any number of medicines without
prescription.” Dr Lang calls on the people
to do something meaningful for the vulnerable lot. He says drug users are in
public view and they need rehabilitation. “Where are the
organisations which profess to work for drug addicts. Are there no activists
who would work on ground or are they all data collectors who prepare reports
to get funds only?” are some of the questions that haunt the society.
interpretation Everyone, get up
and make way. Step aside and, better yet, bow your head slightly, in
gratitude, for the latest in the long trail of ‘saviours’ in Pakistan: Dr
Tahir-ul-Qadri. This time — in case you have grown weary of saviours
dressed in khaki uniforms, or those dressed in judicial robes — you can
hang your hopes from a Canadian Aalim-e-Din, who, on the eve of general
elections, has called for a million-person-march to Islamabad. Because
democracy, in Pakistan, is not the process of institutional reform through
the casting of ballot… instead, it is either the process of dictating
policy through the sword of ‘national security’, or overriding
constitutional amendments through the mantra of ‘judicial independence’,
or threatening mass upheaval through pressure of ‘dharnas’.
Dr Qadri — despite his
years of brilliance, exceptional intellect and a staggering command over
Islamic injunctions — has put forth an interpretation of constitutional
provisions (as part of his proposed reforms) that is not only incorrect in
substance, but is also deeply rooted in his ‘saviour-syndrome’.
Keeping aside his invoking of Article 38 (which, being part of
‘Principles of Policy’, per judgments of the Supreme Court, cannot be
enforced as a ‘right’), or his advocating that a Caretaker Government
(whose sole mandate is to conduct elections) should enact extensive reforms,
perhaps the most troublesome of ideas is Dr Qadri’s interpretation and
application of Article 62 (Qualifications of Parliamentarians) and Article 63
(Disqualifications of Parliamentarians) of the Constitution. Specifically, identifying
the fact that the Constitution requires a parliamentarian to be “sagacious,
righteous, non-profligate, honest and ameen” (Article 62(1)(f)), Dr.
Qadri’s logic seems to adopt the following trajectory: 1) almost all
existing parliamentarians fall short of these moral standards, 2) we all
‘know’, and can identify on sight, those who do not fulfill these ethical
requirements, and therefore 3) we must, under the leadership of the caretaker
government, become the judge as well as the executioner, to undertake a
weeding-out exercise which ensures that those who we “know” to be not
righteous, are never allowed to contest for or get elected to any seat in the
Parliament. This — with due respect
to the learned Doctor (of law, ironically) — is where the argument of each
‘saviour’ goes off the rails. The flaw lies in the inherent sense of
self-righteousness that this logic entails
— an ideology that is well supported by the language of Article 62
and 63, both of which have been substantially authored by ‘saviours’ of
the past. A cursory glance at the history and amendment of these
constitutional Articles demonstrates the saviour footprints. Constitutional provisions
dealing with qualifications and disqualifications of parliamentarians existed
in the 1956 Constitution (Article 45 and 78) as well as the 1962 Constitution
(Article 103). These, however, were brief in content and ascertainably in
nature — dealing primarily with age, solvency, citizenship and mental
capacity — leaving all else to subsequent Acts of Parliament. The same
definitive model was adopted and followed in the original text of Article 62
and Article 63 in the 1973 Constitution.
However, under the able leadership of Pakistan’s quintessential
‘righteous and ameen’, Gen. Zia-ul-Haq, Article 62 and 63 were amended
through the Revival of the Constitution Order, 1985, adding 5 new clauses to
Article 62, and 11 new clauses to Article 63. The khaki saviour, impressing
his sense of moral superiority, amended the qualifications (Article 62) to
include a requirement to be “of good character… not commonly known as one
who violates Islamic Injunctions” (d), having “adequate knowledge of
Islamic teachings… and practices obligatory duties” (e), “is sagacious,
righteous and non-profligate and honest and ameen” (f), and has not been
convicted of a crime involving “moral turpitude” (g). Similarly, in
Article 63, morality was infused to disqualify anyone who propogates an
opinion “prejudicial to the Ideology of Pakistan” or “morality” (g),
or is convicted of an offence involving “moral turpitude” (h). The courts however (who, at
the time, were not in their ‘saviour’ mode) interpreted these
constitutional provisions in a coherent and tangible manner, declaring in
numerous cases (e.g. Shahid Nabi Malik v. Muhammad Ishaq Dar (1996 MLD 295)
that the righteous and ameen requirements were not self-executing, could not
be given an “extended” meaning, and that such determination could not be
made on mere allegations or popular belief.
Article 62 and 63 once
again went through an iteration of amendments when the next khaki saviour,
General Musharraf, took over the political reigns and introduced the Legal
Framework Order, 2002, tweaking the language and adding three additional
provisions to the disqualification clause. The courts, however, resisted the
saviour temptation, and did not expand the ambit of these constitutional
provisions (as demonstrated in Waqas Akram v. Dr Tahir-ul-Qadri (PLJ 2003 SC
9). Finally, these articles were
once again amended through the 18th Amendment (this time the Parliament),
which removed Musharraf’s imprint, but left Zia’s legacy untouched. And thereafter, the saviour
instincts of the court found expression.
The former prime minister, Yousaf Raza Gilani was dismissed under
Article 63(1)(g), parliamentarians were disqualified per Article 63(1)(c),
and — most ominously — at numerous occasions (including Rehman Malik’s
disqualification and the NRO case) has the Supreme Court referred to
parliamentarians not being “sagacious” or “ameen” (62(1)(f), in
violation of the constitutional requirements. It is perhaps wise to step
back and evaluate the purpose and application of Article 62 and 63. There is
no cavil with the idea that the Constitution (and the law) must provide with
qualification and disqualification standards for the parliamentarians. The
issue is whether morality, which is subjective and unquantifiable by
definition, can be used as a legal yardstick?
The argument of the parliamentarians who suggest that so long as they
have the confidence of the people, and are ‘elected’ by them, no
disqualification bar can hit them, is flawed. The Constitution provides for
standards, which must be adhered to. On the other end of the spectrum, the
suggestion by the ‘saviours’ that fluid moral standards can be used to
hold people ‘guilty’ (and thus disqualified) is equally incorrect. The
due process of law requires that no matter what the popular perceptions about
any individual may be, everyone is innocent till proven guilty. We must resist — each one
of us — the temptation to become saviours unto ourselves.
Such an exercise, of passing summary judgments on who is moral or
ameen and who is not, based on popular perceptions, will be hypocritical at
best. Let the spirit of the Constitution, and the due process, have its day
in court before a moral witch-hunt starts.
The writer is a lawyer
based in Lahore. He has a
Masters in Constitutional Law from Harvard Law School.
He can be reached at: saad@post.harvard.edu
The long march
to destruction It all happened in
a matter of a couple of weeks. Sheikhul Islam managed to expose the fragility
of the political system which was gradually put together, piece by piece, in
the last five years and without ever claiming to be a smooth sailing. Exactly
a year ago, the system was equally in danger of being thrown out in the
infamous Memo Case. Except that the contours of what might replace it were
unclear then. To his credit, the good
professor has it laid out clear, in his mind as well as his written notes
which he often consults while speaking to his ardent followers (unlike other
leaders, he does not even need to stand up to attract their attention). While his detractors were
busy rubbishing his show of strength in Lahore, and most people were led to
believe the show was over, his strategy had borne fruit. His second
appearance at Nine Zero in Karachi, alongside a live speech by the
established Quaid of another movement, forced everyone to sit up and take
notice. January 14, henceforth,
became a date to reckon with. Given our troubled
political history, the questions in common people’s minds are simple: Is
the system indeed as fragile as it is made out to be by Qadri and his
supposed allies? More importantly, how come he is here at a time when there
is a consensus, at least on the mode of transfer of power? Logically, to the
next question: is he supported by the establishment or is he his own man? How
real is the support extended by the coalition partners viz. MQM and PML-Q?
Will the Supreme Court, which has already laid down a ground for a
constitutional, and law and order breakdown in its various recent judgments,
sign up on an order that proposes an extra-constitutional caretaker
arrangement and a postponement of the election? In short, is the Maulana a
credible threat to the system? Even before that, who does
he represent and what about the possibility of his religious following
becoming a political backbone. Analyst Suhail Warraich is all praise for his
management skills which, he claims, have far surpassed that of
Jamaat-e-Islami. “Tahir-ul-Qadri runs more than 1000 schools in Pakistan
while Tehreek-e-Minjha-ul-Quran has centres in every prominent city of the
world. The way he manages these centres, by shuffling their heads between
various cities and making the centres autonomous after a while, he ensures
that the institution is more important than the individual.” This partially explains the
success of his Lahore rally; and the money behind it. “If Imran Khan’s
meeting in Lahore was an urban revolt against the status quo, this was a
rural revolt in favour of Qadri. All the people in the rally had come from
small towns and villages; most of them from Gujrat, Gujranwala, Sialkot and
Azad Kashmir, cities which have direct link with European countries like
Norway, Holland and England. They have relatives there.” So far so good. But what about his agenda
and its execution, beginning with a Long March and a sit-in in Islamabad on
January 14? Academic and columnist, Hasan Askari Rizvi, thinks he is banking
on the army to move in and force a change in government. “This is what
happened in the case of the Long March for the restoration of the chief
justice. I don’t think the army will come in at this time when the
elections are approaching; it is not in its interest.” Bringing in the army was
not far-fetched after all because the Maulana himself openly invoked the two
non-elected players — judiciary and army — every time he has spoken. The
DG ISPR has had to clarify while talking to a reporter that the army was not
behind the re-emergence of Qadri. Warraich sees it in a
broader light. “I think Tahir-ul-Qadri has come to establish his presence
and prominence but the agenda that he has brought resonates with the
Pakistan’s chattering middle class, the Pakistan army, Imran Khan, and
everyone else who is opposed to the two big parties. All of these forces do
not consider election as a harbinger of change.” This mutual hate might
bring both Imran Khan and Qadri closer, he thinks, while “the Defence of
Pakistan Council may decide to oppose Qadri”. Political Analyst Dr
Mohammad Waseem also sees Qadri’s arrival as part of the “old search”
for taking the political initiative away from the two major parties. “The
establishment does not want political contenders because their millions of
voters mean strength; it wants clients instead.” To say that Qadri has not
been brought in by the establishment is significant. Dr Waseem has every
reason to doubt this but Rizvi would go along with Warraich’s thesis.
“Tahir-ul-Qadri is a maverick who believes in sensationalism. This is what
his past track record shows. He made a party and left it, became a member of
parliament, then resigned and so on. What he wants now is to convert his
religious following into a political following. He may not appear to be a
political contender because he sees himself in the tradition of Ayatollah
Khomeini,” says Rizvi. So does that spell a danger
to the system in any way? “There is a danger to the system because he wants
to determine what the system should be,” says Rizvi. This takes us back to the
consensus in the country that the solution to this country’s woes lies in
election. “He has tried to break this consensus. If the political forces
had decided everything between themselves, what happened to the real
stakeholders — the army and the judiciary? They may not have said it
themselves but Qadri has asked to include them in,” suggests Warraich. The Long March and the
sit-in may or may not happen, come January 14. But are we ready for the
experiment proposed by Dr Qadri. Are we not done with such experiments yet?
One would like to suggest, with a hint of caution though, that the political
system is not as fragile and vulnerable as it looks at the moment and we
might stick with the consensus called election.
Sceptic’s
Diary When I watched him
bat in Lahore the last time he visited, I kept trying to freeze the image of
him batting live — using my eyes to store away photographs. I feared that
it was the last time I would watch him bat live. I was in love with what he
was doing with a cricket bat but a man in love is also often driven by fears.
The day would come. Sachin
would retire. An era would end. And it has. If one believes the poetic
Osman Samiuddin when he says that all of Pakistan bowls fast in Wasim
Akram’s shadow, then the whole of India including every batsman walking out
to bat for India, plays in the shadow of Sachin. When he was on song you
could be forgiven for thinking that he was immortal. And then when he got out
you had to blink to remind yourself that a spell had been broken. In those
moments when he asserted his authority, you didn’t hear much else. Love and
worship drown out miscellaneous sounds. And when he played in his element, as
he so often did, only one thing mattered: the whispering yet crisp crack of
wood on leather. You didn’t automatically applaud every shot of his, you
simply couldn’t — since so often it took you a second longer than usual
to register that such a shot could actually be played with that precision. In
those moments he introduced us to one new universe after another. Sachin helped us fall in
love and allowed us to worship a game at levels we had not known — and may
not know for a while. No one is perfect, of course, but if a batsman were
perfect wouldn’t he be made in Sachin’s mould? And oh the bliss of
knowing that he isn’t perfect! The joy of realising that Sachin is human.
We owe him gratitude — for he made us realise that a human can do all that
with a cricket bat, that a bat can become a shield, a sword, a flowing pen
writing an uplifting love sonnet. And at the end of it all he would raise
that piece of wood up to the Gods. He knew, more than any one of us, the
gifts that they gave him. In his gratitude to his maker, he polished his
skills hard till they shined with dazzling brilliance. And that led Matty
Hayden to comment: “I have seen God and he bats…for India.” His humility hides his
greatness. It was almost as if he knew that he was playing to re-define the
thinkable and this became second nature to him. Why flaunt it if greatness is
your default state? His failures are so easily remembered by all only because
they were the exception. When a master painter misses a brush stroke, people
are quick to notice. Yet the artist’s greatest creations become so accepted
that all of mankind can feel they own them. We often glance past them without
celebrating them. If you live in Agra, maybe you can drive past the Taj Mahal
everyday without stopping to admire it. Is that how we got used to Sachin?
That he was there with all his successes so why celebrate them all the time?
But here is how Sachin challenged us. He kept building one Taj Mahal after
another. We lived in the shadow of what he built. We felt the breeze flowing
through the archways of imagination that he opened as he carved one precious
stroke after another and added it to a constellation.
I work in a field where one
competes with one’s self as much as an opposing counsel — always trying
to go that extra mile. But we often stop when we think that we have outrun
the other person, when doing an ‘x’ amount of work wins you a case. But
Sachin never stopped. He outran the others by such a long distance that it
took us two decades to realise that he wasn’t running against others at
all. He was running to explore the road and where it leads — not to win,
since that was too easy and everyone before him had stopped at winning. His
was a triumph — of spirit, imagination, dedication and resolve. As he leaves the one-day
game, we who grew up in his shadow, are realising how often our moments of
joy and sadness coincided with him being there. Traffic, weddings, work,
arguments between lovers, our moods, hiring and firing — everything
revolved around him as long as he was there. Our kids and our grandmothers
knew him. In that way he is a fairytale. Often when he was deep in sleep we
kept talking about him since earlier that day he had dazzled us. He walked. And we cheered.
And at times we despaired. He turned corners and we followed. We whispered
about him in classrooms, walked up to strangers and asked if Sachin was out
or not, we lied to family on shopping sprees and rushed into stores to check
how much he had scored. We nicknamed countless kids “Sachin” as we played
on our streets, we became him during street games, we skipped school for him,
we failed to concentrate at work when we knew he was on the pitch, we
pretended to listen to someone else while we continued thinking about what
Sachin would achieve that day. Yes, we have all lived in a state of being in
love with him. And it has been so constant that we don’t even think about
it on most days. Farewell, Sachin. The Taj
Mahals you have built will long provide us comfort in what a human being
armed with a cricket bat can achieve. I and billions others will miss you. We
grew up in the shadow of your brilliance and from here on we live in a debt
of gratitude to you. Thank you. The writer is a practicing
lawyer. He can be reached at wmir.rma@gmail.com or on Twitter @wordoflaw |
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