loadshedding
The roundabout life
People come out on green belts and open spaces when the lights go out and try to live life as it comes
By Saim Ejaz
Load shedding! Considered a nuisance and a menace, loathed, hated and certainly not the best part of our daily life here in Pakistan. The perils are known, conversed about and despised to the extent that power management authorities have become the central focus and agenda of the text messages visiting the 8 million mobile phones on a regular basis in this land.
Now it has become a part of our daily routine and we manage our lives according to its schedule, especially if the luxury of a full time generator is not available. Some are able to cope with it with the assistance of a UPS. For those who are without these resources are now not dependent on the Mighty Lord but the Wapda personnel who have the authority to pull the lever shut. And after that, the general populace has to wait.

MOOD STREET
Being a father
By Ather Naqvi
When do you start critically evaluating your city in terms of health and education services that it provides? In my assessment, it is when you’re going to become a father and immediately after that.
The state of being a bachelor is diametrically opposed to being a father, a time when you suddenly discover one cute little reason why you’re around in the world, and your city for that matter, bustling with so many old-looking souls.
So, understandably, this is not the Lahore that it used to be for me a few months back before my status was upgraded to being a father. The city has acquired an altogether different meaning, becoming alive with its schools, clinics, and play stations.

Town Talk
*Exhibition/Open Day of ‘Mansion’ the Artists’ Residency on 23rd and 24th July from 10:00 to 7: 00 pm at 48, L, Gulberg III. Five artists, Amna Ilyas, Aeysha Zulfiqar, Ehsan ul Haq, Iqra Tanveer and Sajjad Ahmed will show their works produced at five week long residency, initiated and organised by Nausheen Saeed.
* An Urdu comedy play ’Nizam Sakka’ by Theatre Hub from 28th to 30th of July.
* The Grand Musical Avanti At the Alhamra Arts Council ongoing till the 31st of July
* An exhibition of Shahid Rassam’s recent works at The Drawing Room art gallery.

jail
Spirits high and low
A day at Kot Lakhpat Jail where sanitary conditions and food have improved
over time but the rest looks the same
By Aamir Tariq
Before actually going to a prison house last week, I was sure of what I would experience. I was sure there would be families in dire straits awaiting the moment they could see their loved ones. There would be an aura of either a Shawshank Redemption or Prison Break. I was sure the actual experience would match my expectations. It didn’t turn out quite the way I had expected.
On reaching the Central Jail Kot Lakhpat, Gate 1, I discovered the guards aren’t as welcoming as you would expect. I believe the heat or the SP got to them. After a not so warm welcome by Abbas Ali at the gate who thought I was some Afghani who couldn’t prove his identity through an ID card (being under-18), I decided to take a stroll on the 50 acres of the jail which was protected by more than 800 guarded policemen.

From Guru Arjun to Ranjit Singh
While the Sikhs faced the greatest trial with Guru Arjun’s martyrdom, Ranjit Singh’s rule was at its zenith
By Haroon Khalid
After five days of severe physical torture, the 5th Sikh Guru Arjun was granted the permission to take a bath in the river, which used to flow from the wall of the Lahore Fort at that time. This torture took place at a place called Lal Khoi, inside the Mochi Darwaza, Lahore. The 5th Sikh Guru was being persecuted for his refusal to the proposal of marriage between a Mughal minister, Chandu’s daughter, and his son, the 6th Sikh Guru Hargobind. Politically, the reason was the alleged support of the Guru to the rebel son of Emperor Jahangir, Khusrau.

 

loadshedding
The roundabout life

Load shedding! Considered a nuisance and a menace, loathed, hated and certainly not the best part of our daily life here in Pakistan. The perils are known, conversed about and despised to the extent that power management authorities have become the central focus and agenda of the text messages visiting the 8 million mobile phones on a regular basis in this land.

Now it has become a part of our daily routine and we manage our lives according to its schedule, especially if the luxury of a full time generator is not available. Some are able to cope with it with the assistance of a UPS. For those who are without these resources are now not dependent on the Mighty Lord but the Wapda personnel who have the authority to pull the lever shut. And after that, the general populace has to wait.

Among the obvious gloom that is a result of blackouts all over the country there is a significant and radical change in our fast paced lives due to load shedding. Our dependence on technology and electricity is great and when it is obstructed our lives are disrupted. The reason why we may witness families getting together and spending a greater amount of time with each other, later giving birth to a culture one may term as the ‘Roundabout life’. It has become a common sight in our city where we observe those devoid of the blessing of a gadget such as a UPS spending those hours on a green belt or a roundabout especially those near a squatter settlement.

Amongst the miseries of the day there seems to be an air of enjoyment in the over all environment. Families make their way towards an almost enjoyable hour or two. Friends hang out and children run around which surely becomes a risk with speeding motorists zooming past the edges where they play. If one interacts with them, the issue of load shedding itself causes an eruption but the light mood returns when a middle-aged mother of three suggests, “Bhayya hamaree tou yeh picnic hee hou gaee” (Brother, for us this becomes a sort of a picnic). The young ones clearly do not enjoy an interview hindering their play. Watching and observing them proposes that they have found a way to beat the heat as well as pass the time.

That is not all true, sadly. We all know and can easily figure out that their lives have been disturbed by these intermittent power failures. Their work and even domestic lives are paralysed. The labourers who are constructing a house nearby have to undergo the misery of working late hours to fulfill their quota of hours to attain a wage. A young man, probably in his early twenties, describes, “Yeh tou majbooree hai hamaree, is tarah yahan aana” (Coming here at night is a necessity). This demonstrates their lack of choice which deems it inevitable but to come here every night and make the most of these roundabouts.

The usual discussions are mundane and seem to not touch the political or economic sphere too often, although I did stumble across two middle-aged men conversing about the situation in Karachi. For a person who’s first and foremost priority is maybe to feed his family, discovers a way to channel his need for recreation through spending an hour of power failure at night with his family. The roundabout dwellers seem to be fortunate enough to get hold of a livelihood to manage two meals a day at least.

On a micro-level these souls seem to be content with their lives but a deeper look suggests that under this façade the dark realities of life are hidden. And these are not hard to uncover. As soon as the overhead sodium bulbs spread their yellow light the visible glint in the eyes of the playing children due to the passing vehicles’ lights disappears. On the other hand, the elders seem to be relieved to find that the power management authorities have been merciful enough to keep it to only an hour.

For me personally, the return of these couple of dozen people to their abodes is a story in itself. It’s a mix of respite as well as a return to reality. They are fully aware of the fact that we live in a country full of problems that seem to pile up and aggravate day after day but these people also have proven to be those who know how to live a life in its truest sense. This can not be captured through the eye of the camera nor could it be seen in the headlines on the television or newspapers. This is the patient and resilient Pakistani that hopes for a change.

 

 

MOOD STREET
Being a father

When do you start critically evaluating your city in terms of health and education services that it provides? In my assessment, it is when you’re going to become a father and immediately after that.

The state of being a bachelor is diametrically opposed to being a father, a time when you suddenly discover one cute little reason why you’re around in the world, and your city for that matter, bustling with so many old-looking souls.

So, understandably, this is not the Lahore that it used to be for me a few months back before my status was upgraded to being a father. The city has acquired an altogether different meaning, becoming alive with its schools, clinics, and play stations.

Let me tell you why. Weeks before my first child was born, we started looking for a hospital where the extension of our beings was going to open her eyes. Amid the enormous amount of excitement (and tension) that I shared with my wife, we explored the options for our immediate future.

Almost every hospital worth its name in the city was discussed threadbare and then rejected one after the other; some were spared for a second thought though. It was during those days that the stark realities of private and public sector hospitals came to the fore once again.

We also heard and overheard stories of complications that might arise during the whole episode of childbirth, almost entirely owing to the selection of a hospital. Have we arrived at the right decision? We kept on asking ourselves until the very last moment.

I don’t know how the last few hours (and minutes) went by before I became a father (my wife knows better, of course), but it was as if there was nothing else going on elsewhere. It did happen, finally.

Now, with my seven-month old daughter playing in my arms, me and my wife spend quite some time every other day discussing which cereals our child should take at this point in time. More importantly, which schools in the city would best cater to the educational needs of our daughter? Here, schools in the public sector do not have a chance while many institutions in the private sector also fail to come up to our standards, a major objection being a fee structure apparently grossly disproportionate to the level of education that they seem to impart. Or perhaps we are wrong.

The discussion eventually leads to a critique of the entire education sector that we have here, with schools (not every one of them) fleecing the hard-earned money of the parents. But that does not help. The logical direction that the discussion takes is how to increase one’s earning. How?

While we love diving into the endless sea of talking about the best possible living environment we can give to our child, we end up failing to find the best educational institution that our child could go to and the best company of friends that she could have to excel in society. My thinking process does not end here. And I’m not alone.

Close relatives go to the extent of pointing out a perfect match for her, usually from another relative not very distant. They do that in a lighter vein but, after forming an intense emotional association with my daughter, the idea does not look very nice to me.

I don’t want to even think about that at the moment as she joyfully responds to every gesture that I make and every word that I utter to her. As I say something to her she giggles with full energy; not because she understands what I say, but because I say that.

 

 

Town Talk

*Exhibition/Open Day of ‘Mansion’ the Artists’ Residency on 23rd and 24th July from 10:00 to 7: 00 pm at 48, L, Gulberg III. Five artists, Amna Ilyas, Aeysha Zulfiqar, Ehsan ul Haq, Iqra Tanveer and Sajjad Ahmed will show their works produced at five week long residency, initiated and organised by Nausheen Saeed.

* An Urdu comedy play ’Nizam Sakka’ by Theatre Hub from 28th to 30th of July.

* The Grand Musical Avanti At the Alhamra Arts Council ongoing till the 31st of July

* An exhibition of Shahid Rassam’s recent works at The Drawing Room art gallery.

* A photographic exhibition at the Alhamra Arts Council till the August 4.

* Bacchon Ke Batithak: A weekly event on Sundays for ages four and above at the Faiz Ghar

 

A day at Kot Lakhpat Jail where sanitary conditions and food have improved
over time but the rest looks the same

Before actually going to a prison house last week, I was sure of what I would experience. I was sure there would be families in dire straits awaiting the moment they could see their loved ones. There would be an aura of either a Shawshank Redemption or Prison Break. I was sure the actual experience would match my expectations. It didn’t turn out quite the way I had expected.

On reaching the Central Jail Kot Lakhpat, Gate 1, I discovered the guards aren’t as welcoming as you would expect. I believe the heat or the SP got to them. After a not so warm welcome by Abbas Ali at the gate who thought I was some Afghani who couldn’t prove his identity through an ID card (being under-18), I decided to take a stroll on the 50 acres of the jail which was protected by more than 800 guarded policemen.

It was one experience that made me think of what morality and justice literally mean.

After crossing Gate 1, one has to walk for a good fifteen minutes to reach Gate 2. At this point, you again have to go through a hectic checking procedure. One needs to prove one’s identity and one’s relation to the criminals there. After it has been verified, you are then allowed to enter the waiting room. This is the point where one feels awfully light since everything — from mobile phones to other accessories — is deposited on the collection desk. The duty officer at the desk changes after regular intervals. He looks into all issues that the families could possibly have — a certain complaint or an issue with the treatment of a particular criminal.

After this an entry pass is given to each family who are out there to meet their loved ones. At one instant, a family even had to go back for not bringing the original ID card.

If you were asked to describe the sadness on the faces of these families, it would be a tough observation. While many just waited for the clock to strike nine so they could meet their families, there were some who seemed in high spirits as if they stood by false pride. If someone believes that policemen are a separate creation of God who isn’t even closer to the word mercy, he may have to change his views after a visit to the Kot Lakhpat Jail. The facilitate the transport of food and goods the families send; only these families pay double the amount for any product. Despite the exorbitant pricing, Bibi Farida went on saying “Assi Kuj nahin Kar sakday” (we can’t do anything).

On asking a jail staff member, Zulifiqar, about the technological mechanisms that are there in the Jail, he replied, “we have a proper alarm system through which we can alert the whole jail. Moreover, we have jammers installed too so no phone calls can be made in the cell domain area”. Zulifiqar even went on to show the food menu for the prisoners which was a pretty balanced diet.

Before actually going to Kot Lakhpat Jail, I researched on the facilities that were available there. Surprisingly, there was a point when not even proper sanitation facilities were available to the prisoners. It was a pleasant surprise when I found out that more than 400 new wash rooms have been made in the last three years. Many families were contented with the fact that their loved ones at least had access to the basic amenities.

Muhammad Saeed, a jail official, says, “Being police officers we sometimes feel bad for the people who aren’t even guilty but spend their whole lives behind bars. It’s the prison that creates criminals out of these civilians who were initially as innocent.” But quickly changed his stance saying, “It’s not our job to decide who is guilty or not. We have to follow a procedure which starts off from filing an FIR and recording evidences that back-up the case.”

It wasn’t long before I was asked to leave the premises especially when I probed about the smuggling of charas and cases of sodomy. Shafqat vaguely agreed but didn’t care to share more.

After spending a day at Kot Lakhpat jail, I still couldn’t figure out what these families actually want. Some of them seemed in high spirits. Many people here probably can’t afford one-time meal but are being guarded by 800 policemen. To me it was extremely disturbing and sad when I found a family who were not perturbed by the fact that their son had only appeared thrice in the court in the last ten years. The only thing I was sure about was they don’t know what justice really means.

 

From Guru Arjun to Ranjit Singh

After five days of severe physical torture, the 5th Sikh Guru Arjun was granted the permission to take a bath in the river, which used to flow from the wall of the Lahore Fort at that time. This torture took place at a place called Lal Khoi, inside the Mochi Darwaza, Lahore. The 5th Sikh Guru was being persecuted for his refusal to the proposal of marriage between a Mughal minister, Chandu’s daughter, and his son, the 6th Sikh Guru Hargobind. Politically, the reason was the alleged support of the Guru to the rebel son of Emperor Jahangir, Khusrau.

In Tuzk-e-Jahangiri, the memoir of the Emperor, he notes, “At last when Khusrau passed along this road this insignificant fellow (Guru Arjun) proposed to wait upon him. Khusrau happened to halt at the place where he was. He came out and paid homage to Khusrau. His treatment of Khusrau was special. He made a finger-mark in saffron on his forehead which the people of India call kashka (tilak) which is considered propitious. When this came to my ears I clearly understood his folly and ordered my men to produce him. I handed over his houses, dwelling-places, and children to Murtaza Khan, and having confiscated his property commanded that he should be put to death.”

It is also a known fact that the renowned Muslim saint of Lahore, Mian Meer was a close friend of the Guru and had offered to intervene when the torture was taking place but the Guru refused, saying that it was God’s will. At the spot where the gold-domed, yellow Gurdwara stands, in front of the Lahore Fort, the Guru stepped into the river and never returned. His son, Guru Hargobind, built a platform to mark the spot. Later Maharaja Ranjit Singh constructed a small Gurdwara here.

The Shiromni Committee, a Sikh organisation, in 1930 started reconstruction of the Gurdwara when the domes were also gold-plated. The Sikhs regard 16th June, 1606, to be the day of the martyrdom.

Centuries later, in 1799, a triumphant Sikh marched these same roads, this time to enter the seat of power of Lahore, the Fort. In 1801, Maharaja Ranjit Singh, who had started as a ruler of a small fief around Gujranwala, was crowned the ruler of Punjab, by Sahib Singh Bedi, a descendant of the founder of the Sikh religion, Guru Nanak. The first Sikh ruler died on the 27th of June 1839. His final rites were performed near the Gurdwara Dera Sahib which commemorates the martyrdom spot of Guru Arjun. This fabulous white building which exemplifies the strength of the Sikhs was summoned by Ranjit Singh’s heir Kharrak Singh, the eldest son of the Maharaja, and completed by his youngest son, Dalip Singh.

Both of these structures now stand within a complex, guarded by high walls, barbed wires, and various police officials. The distance between them is of few steps, but the historical and political trajectory is a long one. Both of these legendary figures whose death anniversaries are commemorated the world over, including this complex, mark a turning point in the Sikh history. Till the time of Guru Arjun, the Sikhs represented a peaceful, spiritual group, who refrained from politics; the refusal to the proposal of Chandu’s daughter for his son being a case in point. However, after his assassination, the community was dragged into politics. Guru Hargobind started promoting martial arts for self-defense.

He encouraged his followers to maintain arms, a policy, which was a complete departure from the teachings of the first 5 Sikh gurus, including Guru Nanak and Guru Arjun. The event marks as the Karbala for the Sikhs which permanently scared the psyche of the community, changing them forever. It represented the lowest point in their history. On the other hand, the coronation of Maharaja Ranjit Singh is seen as the zenith of the Sikh political history. In about two centuries, the Sikhs successfully managed to become a formidable political force from a group of a few thousands spiritual reformers.

As the Minority Director of ‘The Citizens Archive of Pakistan’ (CAP), a Karachi and Lahore based non-profit organisation dedicated to the cultural and historical preservation of Pakistan, I attended the ceremonies, to mark the death anniversaries of Guru Arjun and Maharaja Ranjit Singh, on the 16th and 29th of June respectively. Both of these events attract a few hundred pilgrims from India every year, who for their stay of about 10 days visit various Sikh Gurdwaras including Gurdwara Janamasthan at Nankana Sahib where Guru Nanak was born and Gurdwara Panja Sahib at Hassan Abdal, another Gurdwara associated with him. Unlike the birthday of Guru Nanak, or the festival of Vaisakhi, these events are a small affair, with only a few hundred foreigners and a few hundred locals.

The religious ceremony at all the Sikhs festivals is the same. Akhand Path is performed which is the continuous reading of the Adhi Granth, the Sikh holy book without a pause. This takes about two and a half days.

This reading is done in the name of Guru Arjun and Maharaja Ranjit Singh in this case. Once the reading has been done, bhog, which is a community prayer, is offered. The only difference between these two events was that the first one took place at the Gurdwara Dera Sahib, a modest building and the other one took place at the smadh of Ranjit Singh, a grand building, adorned with intricate and colourful frescoes, splendid wood and glass work, worthy of a king of his stature.

Talking to a few Sikhs about Maharaja Ranjit Singh, I couldn’t help but draw parallels between their perception of his rule and the Muslim perception of the rule of the righteous caliphs. They told me that Ranjit Singh was the ideal Sikh (something I think Guru Nanak would strongly disapprove of) during whose tenure ‘the Lion and the sheep would drink water from the same water source.’ Sham Singh, the head of the Pakistan Sikh Gurdwara Prabhandak Committee, a Sikh organisation responsible for running the affairs of Sikh Gurdwaras in Pakistan, after the bhog for Ranjit Singh spoke from the pulpit that during the tenure of Ranjit Singh shopkeepers would leave their shops open as there was no theft and robbery during his fair tenure. There is no doubt that his tenure was marked by peace after years of unrest in Punjab, but it wasn’t a utopian society as it is now portrayed.

After the bhog for Guru Arjun, the historical bond between the Sikhs and the Muslims was evoked. A lot of focus was on friendship between Mian Meer and Guru Arjun. According to the Sikh tradition, Guru Arjun asked Mian Meer to lay the foundation stone for the Golden Temple in Amritsar, one of the holiest Sikh shrines in the world. In November 1996, the Government of Pakistan built a 47 room Mian Meer Block for visitors, inside the complex, where now the pilgrims stay.

 

Haroon Khalid works as the Minority Director for ‘The Citizens Archive of Pakistan’ (CAP)

 

 

 

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