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environment MOOD
STREET Town Talk history By Saleha Rauf Sunday is a special day for the unemployed. Jobseekers eagerly sift through the classified pages that are teeming with these 'luring' adverts. Those with little experience and fresh degrees -- and there are many of them, courtesy of a college in every corner of the city -- are mostly attracted to the ads that promise least working hours with attractive pay packages and -- this is the best part! -- require little or no work experience. The catch is, it is very likely the ad is from a company that doesn't exist or has nothing to offer.
environment Saving what trees? We need this city covered with trees if we wish to save it -- not with eucalyptus or alstonia but our own indigenous plants By Salman Rashid The Lahore Bachao Tehreek (LBT) is up in arms against the cutting of the eucalyptus trees that will make way for the widening of Canal Bank Road from Thokar to the ends of the world or wherever. To begin with, we do not need wider roads. The foolish
bureaucrats who think wide roads will make for better flow of traffic
should have their stupid heads examined. More of tarmac will only give
license to the uncouth louts who sit behind the steering wheels to drive
ever more erratically. Point. As for LBT and their fuss about the cutting of trees, they should rejoice that the marked ones, as shown in the picture accompanying a piece in this space last week, are only eucalyptus. The old Punjabi saw about not rejoicing when an enemy perishes for even friends will one day go does not hold in this case: the water-guzzling eucalyptus is one enemy upon whose demise we can rejoice. And heartily. A mature specimen of this accursed tree, a native of distant Australia, will siphon up as many as a hundred litres of good subsoil water and put it into the atmosphere. This it does continuously in every twenty-four hour cycle. Judging from the unplanned plantations of eucalyptus in this country, I estimate that Pakistan needlessly loses as much as ten trillion litres of water annually! We were 'gifted' this tree by the corrupt, inefficient deadwood of the Forest Department. Much of this trash that would have been on the rubbish heap in a better society rose to be Chief Conservators in the forest department. This tells us what the government has always been made of. Back in the late 1960s with the military dictator in charge, the order went out to increase forest cover. The corrupt forest officers, to whom an honest day's work was as alien as water to the moon, got thinking. Save a few indigenous species that were not fed upon by ruminants, most were susceptible to browsing. Consequently, species such as pipal, neem, mulberry, kikar etc had a survival rate as low as ten percent because of roaming livestock. Eucalyptus that had first been introduced to the
subcontinent as early as the late 1890s was known to our so-called
foresters. They knew too that once planted, it simply grew up to be a tree
because no animal browsed upon it. An Australian eucalyptologist, Dr Prior
by name, was hired to identify five of the over six hundred sub-species of
the Australian tree that would grow well in Pakistan. That was the beginning of a madness that knew no stopping. From 1970 onwards the word tree meant eucalyptus and only eucalyptus. There was not a single government building from Sost in the Karakoram Mountains to Jivani that was planted with anything but eucalyptus. Over time it became known that water-logged land could be reclaimed by planting eucalyptus around it, but the hydrological properties of the tree were not commonly known at that time. It was only in the 1990s that Nuclear Institute of Agro-Biology (NIAB), Faisalabad did sterling research to show what a pernicious enemy we had been nurturing on the bosom of our land. Indeed, even as NIAB was doing this work, there were two pernicious fiends, one retired Chief Conservator the other serving in that capacity, who received a huge input of money from a company called Winrock. Both these insidious men planted millions of eucalyptus trees in various parts of Punjab. To me it seems there is an odious campaign underfoot to place Pakistan at a disadvantage when the water wars begin in the next few years. And these corrupt men who rose to high positions in this rotten system are helping the enemies of this country. It is time they are led up to the executioner's block and terminated before they can do additional damage. LBT is therefore fussing about the wrong thing. Let all the eucalyptus there is be cut down. Save this land from a water famine. The monsoon has failed this year. It has been failing since the early 1980s and in the coming years there will be less and less rain. Our aquifers will dry out. We need water; our livestock and our agriculture do too. But why must we feed an incubus that does not belong to our land and is of no use to us. If they really want to save Lahore, LBT need to shift focus. Let these good people be mindful of the way we have destroyed the natural habitat that Lahore once was. Just one item: forty years ago there were some one hundred and seventy species of birds to be found in Lahore. Today there are only fifty. Who has now seen a munia or a red avadavat? Who a shikra? And these to name only three. The unplanned expansion of housing societies led to wholesale destruction of forest cover. Until the mid 1980s, every indigenous tree that fell was replaced by eucalyptus. Then the ignorant cabin and cockpit crews of PIA began to return home from the Far East with all sorts of exotic trees. The '80s saw a glut of araucaria in the nurseries of Pakistan. There were few homes in the warmer parts of the country that did not flaunt an araucaria in those days. Araucaria was not the only one however. The half-witted pilots and stewardesses choked this country with dozens of other species as well. In 1992 began the curse of the date palm with the plantation in the median of Main Boulevard in front of Home Economics College, Lahore. Though we can never bring the culprit of this madness to book, but it is noised that each date palm was purchased at the obscene price of Rs18,000. In 1992 that was a goodly sum. Compared to that the nursery run by some good forest officer in Ravi Road, Lahore stocks indigenous trees that it sells, even today, for a paltry couple of rupees each. When you want to line your purse with ill-earned wealth you plant only exotic species or date palms purchased for huge sums of money. Who the hell cares for lowly indigenous species? And habitat be damned. Today we have scores of ignorant, uneducated nursery owners whose only motive is profit and the fatter the better. These idiots do not understand the meaning of the word ecology. They do not know what a natural habitat is. Their only concern is profit. The industry of importation of exotic species from Arizona to Zanzibar is working overtime to lay waste an already endangered ecology. And the rest of us, ignorant as ignorant can be, waste our ill-earned wealth to help these lucre-blinded rogues ravage our land. What LBT needs to do is burn every nursery to the ground that stocks exotic species. What they need to do is tar and feather every nursery owner, the man who ravages mother earth for his few rupees. LBT needs to take account of arteries like Walton Road where recently only alstonia (not native to Punjab) has been planted. Or the countless nameless roads everywhere around this wretched city where only exotic species grow. LBT needs to begin a campaign to educate these ignorant people of Lahore that we need to plant shade trees with huge bio-masses. Trees like pipal, banyan what have you because the larger the bio-mass the more carbon it will hold in order to prevent global warming. LBT needs to tell these louts that the much favoured ficus will never grow huge. They need to tell these uneducated people not to plant only that wretched kulfi (asoka) tree in their homes -- a tree that gives shade neither to man nor bird. LBT needs to recognise that we must rebuild the habitat we have systematically destroyed over the past forty years. We need this city covered with trees if we wish to save it. And the eucalyptus or the alstonia is not the tree we want in Lahore. We need our own indigenous trees. Postscript. I live in a small one-kanal home. It was built in the year 2000 and it has one shisham, one pipal, two amaltas and a neem besides three citrus trees. There has never yet been a first-time visitor in summer who did not ask how we managed to keep the interior so cool without air conditioning. Many have wanted to know where the air cooler is hidden. In my garden, I have listed twenty-three different species of birds. The rarer among them include a paradise flycatcher, Eurasian kestrel, shikra, Tickell's flycatcher and a blue-throat. At any given time in summer my garden has as many as two dozen nests of bulbuls, little brown doves, tailor birds, common babblers and once of a visiting chiffchaff as well. But I am aware that foolishness takes root quicker. Good sense seldom.
Of rooms and dwellers By Sidra Mahmood People have always spent their lives demanding their own
personal space, and looking for an area where they can escape from the prying
eyes of the world. Rooms are one such space that allows personal freedom to
anyone who might be seeking it. They are more like a sanctuary or a refuge
against the onslaught of life. The sanctuary of the room has been the bone of contention in so many lives and over so many centuries. In early years of social living, brothers use to fight for rooms that were restricted for the father -- a person they both revered and envied for his authoritative standing. The fight over such important rooms was then sorted out in the battlefield, and the winner could then come and sleep comfortably in the conquered territory -- but for how long…that depended on the time that an assassin took to get to him. Nowadays, brothers fight over rooms from mere childhood all the way to youth. In childhood, they want a room that is large enough to serve as their playground. As they grow up, they want a room that affords a better outlet from the house without waking up the entire family -- not to mention the late night inlet from their night-time rendezvous. Then as years pass by, the innocent bickering turns into a more calculated and malicious rivalry for power that ownership affords -- the room of the head of the family is the bequest. Not only this, rooms are also a standard to gauge the level of anyone's affluence. The more the rooms in a house, the wealthier one is, and consequently the more respected. The lesser rooms definitely mean poverty and of course a lower social status. Rooms are also places that not only determine your position in the society, but in your family too. The bigger room is always the domain of the eldest and hence, the hierarchy is determined. The youngest always suffers discrimination. Sometimes the little one even has to bear being without a room to hide himself in, or else, he is made to share his privacy with another sibling. Rooms are also arenas for great works -- closed room conferences decide the fates of so many who are not allowed to be in those rooms in their entire lifetime. It is usually believed that after some time, the architecture of any place becomes reflective of the characters of the people that live inside it. Similarly, certain rooms tell a lot about the people one is about to encounter. A principal's room always reeks with an apprehensive feeling of punishment, no matter what one might have done. A boss's room is always a place that makes the subordinate feel the inadequacies of his entire being with the force of an exploding atom bomb. An adolescent's room will always display the aspirations of the young mind – flaunted on every wall and, yet, hidden in every corner. What is the sanctuary for some is sometimes a death sentence for others. Those imprisoned in vaults and jails look upon the enclosing walls as the ramparts of grave. Life beyond the walls appears more alluring than the life inside. It is generally said that the vaults of the London Tower echo the misery of the people that were once imprisoned there. One is often tempted to think if it is the rooms that make the people or the people that make the rooms what they appear to be. Are the brick made boxes more important or the people that live inside them? Do the rooms confer significance to the inhabitants or is it the other way round?
Event: The Early Birds. Cycling to start today at 5:30 am from Zakir Tikka shop. Host: Critical Mass Lahore.
Exhibition: Solo show of water colors by M. Gulzar will be held from 27 July at Alhamra Art Gallery, Mall Road, Lahore. The exhibition will remain open till 1 August. Food Fair: Peeru's Cafe presents Sunday Family food and fun fair with puppet shows, art session, child art, museum visit, games etc. Every Sunday from 1:00 pm to 5:00 pm. Literature: LEAF Discourses in Literature on 'The World of Ameer Khusro" on 30 July at Model Town Library Auditorium at 5:45 pm. Conference/Talk: Every Wednesday from 6 to 7 p.m, Dr. Arfa Syeda holds a series of lectures on understanding poetry "Sher Ki Baat" at Faiz Ghar; they are currently scheduled for the 1st, 15th and 29th July. No registration or fee is required to attend. Poetry/Literature: LEAF will hold discourses on literature on "The World of Ameer Khusro" on Thursday, 30th July at Model Town Library Auditorium at 5:45 p.m. Exhibition: Solo Show of Water Colours by M. Gulzar will be held from 27 July at Alhamra Art Gallery, Mall Road, Lahore, from 9 a.m to 6 p.m. The Exhibition will remain open till the 1st of August. For more info, contact: 042-9200918 Training: Ali Institute of Education is organizing an Animation/Claymation Workshop for children and young people from Monday 27th July to Saturday 8th August, duration of the workshop will be 8 to 11:45 a.m. Rs4000 will be charged. Conference/Talk: LEAF in collaboration with Lahore Arts Council and Jahaan-e-Waaris presents "An Evening with Waaris Shah" at Alhamra Cultural Complex Gaddafi (off Ferozpur Road), Hall 2 on 28 July. This will include a talk by M. Sadiq Pervez. Contact: 9230791
The emperor was here History is buried in Haer -- a small village outside Lahore By Haroon Khalid On Bedian road, around 35 km from Lahore, there is a
village known as Haer. If you are coming from Lahore, a small road appears on
the right that leads to this village. At about half a kilometre down this
road is a baradari which was earlier considered outside of the village. The baradari was built during Emperor Shah Jahan's time for the royal travellers to relax on their way from Lahore to Amritsar and back -- people travelled frequently between the two cities during those times. It is highly probable that the Emperor himself stayed at the baradari. Haer was a popular spot because of its location in the middle of the two cities. Haer is also significant for its association with the fourth Sikh Guru Ram Das. According to the official records from the British Raj, Ram Das was married into this village and he stayed here for a little while. His house survived the test of time for long but was razed by the Afghans during the Afghan-Sikh clashes. Later, Guru Ram Das' rebel son, Prithvichan also married a woman from Haer. He built a temple here during the Mughal period which stands today in the outskirts of the village in a dilapidated state. The history of this village exceeds the advent of the Mughals in India. According to the Land Revenue Records, the village existed when Babur came here. Tradition has it that the foundation of this village was laid by a person called Bhola Jut who belonged to the Ahaer caste -- hence the name Haer. At that time, Haer was a dense jungle named Lakhi. Historical documents have many interesting details about people getting lost in this jungle. Ruins of older villages are also found in the surroundings of this village which predate Haer known as Thay Kot Kambo and Bagha Kot (a fort is called kot in Punjabi). Ask any passer-by in the village and he would guide you to
the baradari. The structure, once the baradari, now serves as a functional
madrassa. It has been enclosed on all sides with a 2-kanal land next to it.
The ground has been raised, leaving some portions of the building buried. The
building has been white-washed covering the original frescoes, and brick
work. In other words, the small structure has lost its beauty to 'modernisation'
and encroachments. The original edifice probably doesn't even faintly
resemble the present structure. This is ironic also because the building has
been listed with the Archaeology Department. A board from the department made
any encroachment around the building illegal. The department is now history
itself. In Archaeology Survey of Pakistan 1998, a detailed description of the baradari is given: "The baradari is square in plan, erected over a raised platform built with small bricks set in kanker lime mortar and plastered. It has three multi-cusped arched openings on each side and there are traces of fresco paintings on the exterior walls. The roof of the baradari has collapsed. Internally, there are traces of fresco paintings showing floral and geometrical motifs on the wall." The raised platform, the multi-cusped arched openings and fresco paintings have all disappeared. A new roof has been made after this report was written. The arched openings on all the four sides have been closed to make one big hall. The entire missing portion of the building, which was around one-third of the top portion, has been completed by big bricks, most probably by the madrassa authorities. This building has now become a hodgepodge of old and new bricks. But there is one advantage of the baradari being used as a madrassa -- the imminent annihilation of this historic monument has been stopped. When the archaeology department was responsible for the protection of the building, no conservation efforts or maintenance was being done. Like the roof, the building itself would have collapsed if left for some more time. Now the madrassa is being protected due to the direct interest of the local authorities and students. Any further damage is unlikely, unless or until the concerned occupants decide to replace the 'outdated' building with a 'modern' construction. Until that happens, this baradari of Shah Jahan is safe as a madrassa.
Job advertisements continue to lure the unemployed. No one knows they are fake
By Saleha Rauf Sunday is a special day for the unemployed. Jobseekers
eagerly sift through the classified pages that are teeming with these
'luring' adverts. Those with little experience and fresh degrees -- and there
are many of them, courtesy of a college in every corner of the city -- are
mostly attracted to the ads that promise least working hours with attractive
pay packages and -- this is the best part! -- require little or no work
experience. The catch is, it is very likely the ad is from a company that
doesn't exist or has nothing to offer. Most of these ads offer online jobs and the option of working from home -- the best way to lure a young graduate. Quite commonly, the masters' degree holders end up taking a job that requires intermediate certificates only. Universities produce thousands of graduates every year who fail to find employment. What's more, fresh graduates have little hope in this regard because most of the well-known companies require relevant experience. When a graduate spots an ad that doesn't have a strict criterion, he/she immediately approaches the advertiser. The ads I am talking about have a criterion that suits everyone. For instance, one ad I came across read: "Opportunities for part-timers and full-time jobs. Earn Rs 8,000 against 3 hours of work, Rs 12,000 against 4 hours of work and Rs 16,000 against 8 hours of work." All contacts given were cell phone numbers or wireless phone numbers. Whoever calls them is short listed for the interview. I have been a victim of these ads. I once came across a job advertisement by a 'prestigious' firm. Upon calling on the given cell phone number I was asked to 'walk in' for the interview that very day. I told them I had some pressing engagements and asked if the meeting could be held the next day. To my surprise, they agreed. The next day, my friend and I landed at a three-room office in a plaza on Ferozepur road. The main room, which appeared to be that of a receptionist, was populated by three women who resembled each other rather eerily. One of the girls handed me a form and said I needed to pay Rs 500 there and then. "Five hundred bucks?" I uttered spontaneously. "No…no…just a hundred," she surprised me further. Anyway, I filled the form that required some bio data. After I was done, I was put on the phone through a person who sounded as if he was the big boss. I told him about my 'little' experience in the field and my educational qualification, and the next thing he said to me was to take up a teaching position. I told him I'd rather prefer an administrative job. He agreed immediately. Come to think of it, he also offered a job to my friend who works as a sales girl. Twenty-five years old Rahat once told me she had applied for a job in a company that she doubted was a fraud. "I applied because I am an MA in English and a BA in Education. My current employer gives me only Rs 5000 a month. I wanted a better paying job." Ahmed, 15, wanted to make an extra buck after college hours. On his father's advice, he got himself registered with an employment agency for Rs 250 whose ad he had seen in the paper. He never got a call from the company and gave up after a few calls. Most of the online job offers are auto ad clicks. Those who offer jobs are either selling illegal clicking software or they are selling CDs telling you how to make blogs or websites containing Google Ads. The search engines identify the software and fail to work within few days. The whole situation is actually quite pathetic. The people who want to make more money in less time are equally responsible as those who offer such jobs. As for me, the interviewee never called me for a job, neither for a teaching job nor an administrative position. All the contact numbers of the firm are off.
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'Story
Hour' at Faiz Ghar for children five years and above on Sundays, from 6-7 pm.
The event is followed by a sing along session with Zarah David on keyboard.
