The Express Tribune

Were he alive today, Ahmad Nadim Qasmi would have found the current fervour and growing unanimity of acclaim for Faiz Ahmad Faiz quite intriguing since he thought that his own sidelining as a secondary figure of contemporary Urdu poetry during the latter’s lifetime had something to do with class and lifestyle. With class and lifestyle gone with the man, now what remains, Qasmi Sahib would have wondered, but his poetry and his memory? Is that worth making so much fuss about? In the realm of the arts, relative greatness cannot be determined with a measuring tape. Faiz Sahib himself made no such judgments about his contemporaries, sparing his lavish encouragements for nonentities who approached him for a back cover comment, except perhaps for that rare quip about Qasmi Sahib being a better columnist than a poet. Rejoining on that ‘class and lifestyle’ charge Ashfaq Salim Mirza had read a memorable defence of Faiz at a weekly session of the Islamabad Cultural Forum. The late Professor Khwaja Masud, who was so fond of relishing the memory of his association with Faiz Sahib, had attributed some part of his early rise in public eye to the botched Pindi Conspiracy case. The late Dr Inayatullah who was such an adept at puncturing popular notions had asserted that a poet’s work should be his first reference. Well, that was many years ago when there was no idea of his centenary celebrations at this grand scale as we are witnessing these days. While media attention gives fillip to any activity temporarily, some solid work on the poet has been published, which will have a lasting usefulness. The National Language Authority has put together an eminent collection of writings that touch upon nearly all aspects of the poet’s life and work. Edited by Professor Yusuf Hassan and poet and critic Ravish Nadeem, these essays, spread over a half century of the poet’s life, should provide basis for new thought and valuation of his work. Two other beautiful books belong entirely to Iftikhar Arif, being a collection of his correspondence with Faiz Sahib (Faiz B’Naam Iftikhar Arif) and the manuscript of Mere Dil Mere Musafir in the poet’s own hand which he had entrusted to him when Arif was in London. Arif has edited another pocket compendium for Oxford University Press (OUP) of Faiz’s most popular poems. Safwat Ghayur Poet Ejaz Rahim has dedicated his latest collection of poems to the memory of that excellent policeman and brave soldier who died in a suicide attack on August 4 last year in Peshawar. Scion of Peshawar’s Nishtar family and related to the poet, he was Commandant of Frontier Constabulary at the time of his death. According to Ejaz Rahim, “At a time when studied inaction became the order of the day, he led from the front.” The death of this heroic figure was mourned across the country. The poet expresses his personal grief in 31 poems that evoke memories of family life, admiration for Safwat’s impeccable character, his care for the poor and the weak and his devotion to duty. Rahim views life from the perspective of a Sufi that anyone who has come out safe and unsoiled from the civil service is likely to acquire. Footprints in time This remarkable book narrates the reminiscences of a Sindhi matriarch, Ghulam Fatimah Shaikh, who was born in the late 19th century as Nandini Kirplani, in a wealthy, traditional Hindu household, whose saga spans two religions, two continents and two centuries. The memoir translated from Sindhi by Rasheeda Husain gives intriguing information about persecution of converted families which in this case resulted in exile and travels in various parts of the collapsing Ottoman Empire, from Madinah to Adana and other places. Published by OUP, the book has a foreword by Dr Azizur Rahman Bughio and an afterword by Iqbal Akhund, her grandson, who concludes that though Fatimah was a devout Muslim she would never have considered the Afghanistan of the Taliban or what they plan for Pakistan, an Islamic state.

Lahore's mall road was as crowded as always. Beyond the zooming vehicles and amongst the old silent trees, I saw him walking slowly on a footpath. There was something dramatic about the old man’s appearance. He reminded me of realist Soviet paintings; ragged dusty clothes, long gray hair, wrinkled face and clutching a small piece of scarlet, a little red flag. He was heading towards the Alhamra Art Complex which was covered with life sized posters of the legendary socialist poet Faiz Ahmed Faiz . The poet’s centenary celebrations were about to begin and the parking lot was almost full. The old man stood there for a short while and looked at the smiling photograph of the poet. He entered the main gate and headed towards the hall. It was full of ‘cultured’-looking men and women who walked in with a superior attitude. But while I saw all of those well-dressed, well-spoken people enter the old man kept standing outside. The guards would not let him enter. He remained there until the gates were closed and the hall echoed with the familiar words of Faiz' "Hum dekhaingey (We shall see)." But the old man never saw anything! When the audience left the hall they chattered cheerfully. They sounded excited to have seen VIPs from Bollywood. I heard an elderly gentleman say:

“We'll drink late into the night. It’s Faiz's birthday after all!”

I saw the old man was still sitting on the stairs. “They asked me to buy a ticket to enter. I don't have a thousand rupees,” said the poor working class admirer of the working class poet. “I came from Faisalabad to celebrate the 100th birthday of our beloved poet,” he added. I found out his name was Rahmat, a power loom worker, who, like thousands of others, could not afford to enter that high society gathering dedicated to the proletarian poet Faiz. A celebration of the man who fought against class distinction all his life was clearly divided into classes. ********************************************************************* The next day an awami mela known as Faiz Peace Festival was supposed to be held at an open air theater of the Lawrence garden. This event is organised every year by the Progressive Writers Movement with the affiliation of left-wing organisations. But this time, the Hashmis (Faiz's family), who were the organisers of the elitist event mentioned above, decided to organise the Peace Festival as well. It was open to all so it was attended by thousands of people, workers and activists, who are the true representatives of Faiz’s ideology. With hundreds of red flags, Socialist slogans, working women and men, the ambiance was electric. The event opened with a couple of folk performances followed by performances by pop singers. The people waited and waited, but there was no one to reflect the real essence of the poet. The intellectuals who had organised the event for the "poor ignorant masses” had catered it to what they felt they deserved - cheap comedy, love songs and no mention at all of Faiz. No one at the Faiz Peace Festival could sing the songs that have been the anthems of resistance for decades. Ironically, Faiz's struggle was not just against the unequal distribution of wealth but also against the limitation of art. His poetry was the poetry of life and his words were the celebration of people's struggle. As Faiz said: “Ab yahan koi nahin, koi nahin aay ga” Faiz was a revolutionary who wrote about breaking down the walls of socio-economic disparity. But today he has been sold for Rs1,000 per person.

This year, it seems almost every institution in Pakistan is commemorating the late Faiz Ahmed Faiz’s 100th birthday - even the Sindh Assembly. The latest to jump on the bandwagon is bhangra cum do-gooder Jawad Ahmed. The singer has recently released a music video covering Faiz' classic Hum Dekhenge. While the video may have started out as an attempt to pay tribute to one of the country's greatest poets, it turns out to be little more than a half-hearted attempt to cash in on the "cool" poet that everyone is talking about this year. The music video opens with an ambiguous, and rather meaningless baritone voice over by Ahmad. He says:

Revolution is a rare event, and cannot be created. It can only be steered, directed and driven towards victory.

What follows is a flood of images of suffering, hunger and protests - but all this sound and fury signifies nothing. The video consists of a mishmash of clichéd images: young men run through different areas of Karachi passing a torch to each other, sketches of Jesus, Moses, Karl Marx, Joseph Stalin , Che Guevera, Mao ZeDong are interspersed with shots of Jawad Ahmed, who sits in front of a setting sun. The "how to start a revolution" video will confuse audiences and certainly not entertain them. Singing about Faiz sells Bringing Faiz to the youth has become the ‘coolest thing to do’ in the industry. He is not the first poet to be covered by mainstream artists; poetry by Bulleh Shah and Allama Iqbal was used in songs in the 1990s. It is ironic that Faiz, a poet who represented freedom of thought is now being exploited by artists for commercial gain. After all, it's Faiz Ahmed Faiz - that's got to sell, right? Jawad Ahmad's cover song is a first step down a dangerous road. What comes next? Faiz t-shirts ala Che at Zainab Market?

Pakistan has aided the germination of Islamophobia, Taliban, extremist tehreeks and intolerant fundamentalism. But it has also produced quite the opposite. You may call them the hidden ones, but there are Pakistanis who say that it’s time to bring a change. No tolerance for wrong A sense of urgency erupted among judicious Pakistanis after the murders of Salmaan Taseer and Shahbaz Bhatti. As the media covered protestors on the streets, both left and right wing, there was widespread confusion. Fortunately now, the truth is becoming clearer to the average Pakistani. Now he questions, looks for inspiration and does not want to ignore reality. Words are now spoken and voices are now heard. Now a common Pakistani whispers: “Wait! This is my country, how should I get it back?” We saw evidence of this at a Citizens of D emocracy campaign ‘Silence Means More Blood’ on March 12, where 15,000 common Pakistanis changed this whisper into an audible sound by participating in a letter campaign that was meant to protest the killings of liberal leaders and the ongoing threats against Sherry Rehman. People who otherwise feared the words ‘blasphemy’ and ‘Taseer’ publicly became signatories of a protest. It triggered an adrenaline rush and I realised that Pakistan is waking up. The key is to move on with this struggle towards democracy, because every opinion (yours or mine) counts. Welcome to Jashn-e-Faiz In times of such re-awakenings, Citizens for Democracy have found inspiration in these very ‘hidden one’. Legendary poet, Faiz Ahmed Faiz was an unwavering revolutionary who believed in the capacity and determination of oppressed people to fight and defeat tyranny. He said:

“though tyrants may command that lamps be smashed, in rooms where lovers are destined to meet, they cannot snuff out the moon…”

To commemorate Faiz’s memory Citizens for Democracy is celebrating Jashn-e-Faiz on April 17 with an open invitation event that brings art, culture and literature to the masses through its wide range of public integrating programs, exhibitions, performances, music and other activities. Niilofur Farukh a progressive artist and organizer says, “The programs and seminars that we have planned are diverse and cater all kinds of people.” Fashion journalist Mohsin Sayeed is passionate about this event and says, “I believe in my right to speak. Like Faiz sahib says, ‘Bol kay lab azad hain tere’. We have to raise our voice. The collective voice has so much energy that it can bring an avalanche.” In the spirit of paying tribute to Faiz and to the ideals of liberty he stood for, Jashn-e-Faiz is an effort to promote religious harmony and counter extremist forces that have marginalised the constitutional rights of Pakistanis. “No, don’t give up my heart just yet, take courage, for life will still remain,” wrote Faiz. The hope that Faiz imparted with his poetry, fits in best with the current state of Pakistan. If being silent citizens has tired us we must now free ourselves from the shackles of extremism. Let’s not overlook the struggle we make against extremism by rejecting it. We have identified our problems and it’s time to fix them together. We must fuel this struggle with our individual support and start believing in voting - we must ensure that our votes will be counted. The ‘hidden ones’ that Pakistan produced are you and me, the positive thinkers who spread hope; activists who believe in peaceful demonstrations and not in blowing themselves up in crowds. The real Pakistan rests within you and me. And we will bring change. To learn more about Jashn-e-Faiz and The Citizens for Democracy, visit their website.

My friend stood painting something abstract, holding a cigarette in a manner that complimented her artistic persona. She probably noticed my sarcastic smile and said, ‘Hey Ammar! I know you criticize abstract art, but you see artists are free souls. We don’t believe in any rules, regulations and boundaries. We choose to be apolitical and are not disciplined folks at all. Discipline and art do not go along.” I remained silent looking at something black lying next to her bag. She continued, “What are you looking at? The graduation gown? That’s for the convocation dress rehearsal. Everything has to be perfect for the honorable Prime Minister!” I’ve decided that I am not going to attend the 12th convocation of the National College of Arts, from where I graduated last year. I am not going to be a part of this celebration. Despite being a distinction holder and the fact that my parents have waited for this moment I graduated - I refuse to attend. This should be taken as a small form of resistance over an event where artists rush to offer protocol to bureaucrats. You may think that I am being ultra leftist but I cannot participate. You can either be Darbaari or Awaami. Many consider our academic artists as some sort of rebels who oppose the bourgeoisie and bureaucracy. Wrong. A majority of them have a love affair with the establishment. I find it ironic that some ‘liberal artists’, who claim to be the intellectual vanguard of the country, are so pro-establishment. This doesn’t just include the fresh art graduates but also academics who romanticize their ‘artistic freedom’ and have illusion of being liberators. These people feel pride in the fact that a feudal cum Prime Minister of a chaotic country would spend a few minutes in their ceremony. The “free souls” are so afraid of committing any mistake that they organize rehearsals to make sure everything remains ‘disciplined.’ Mr Gilani hasn’t played any slightest role in shaping my artistic abilities. He probably doesn’t even know what art is. He has no right to preside the convocation ceremony of an art school. I can’t pretend to have any respect when I don’t have that for him. I don’t have any illusions regarding People’s Party being ‘comparatively a progressive party' of Pakistan. All the main leadership come from a feudal background, something that can never be ignored. Moreover, during their regime we have witnessed the brutal killings of their senior and outspoken members like Salmaan Taseer and Shahbaz Bhatti. Mr Gilani , being the Prime Minister of Pakistan, has failed to punish their murderers. He has failed to find the people responsible for the killing of Benazir Bhutto. He has failed to provide people with the basic necessities of life. And I can’t receive my graduation degree from a failure, no matter how respectable he is in the eyes of these 'art bureaucrats'. Lets replace him with those architects of society who have been suffering since ever in this land of the pure. Where are those blood-spitting artists? I want them to award me the degree. Where are those hunger-stricken poets? I want them to award me the degree. Where are those revolutionaries who got tortured in Zia’s era? I want them to award me the degree. My art is dedicated to the people’s cause and I don’t need any Prime Minister to prove my art. I would rather choose what Faiz said once:

My heart, my fellow traveller It has been decreed again That you and I be exiled

A piece of Faiz’s poetry looks like any other poetry. Black printed script on white parchment. The staid, two-dimensionality of parchment. The mundane blackness of the script. But as the reader’s gaze sweeps upon the verses, he is conscious of a clamor therein; a raging storm extricated within the dull entrapments of font and page, pining to be let loose, to disturb the tranquil air, to prod awake the sleeping conscience, to alter the course of the clouds, the blow of raucous winds, and flow of mighty rivers. Yes, these grandiose metaphors do complete justice to Faiz’s poetry, because the end he sought through it aimed to challenge the rude tenacity of the status-quo in Pakistan. As a common man, he was strongly disillusioned by the lack of social justice, freedom of expression and democratisation which defined the political landscape in Pakistan throughout the years between 1950 and 1980. Through Faiz’s poetry, dictatorial regime was confronted with uncompromising hatred, with the common man being encouraged to decry it thus:

Bol ke lub azaad hain teray Bol, ke zubaan ab tak teri hai Bol, ke sach zinda hai ab tak!

Unsympathetic authoritarianism was shown the naked dagger through the spine-chilling imagery of a poem titled “Hum dekhain ge”, in which the tyrants were conveyed the horrible tidings of the “rattling ground”, “fearsome lightening in the skies”, the “tossing of their crowns” and the “seizing of their thrones”, all of which were to lead to their doom and the salvation of the oppressed. [[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RQBr7m0n0Zo]] The message of gearing into action for the country’s sake is a recurring theme in Faiz’s work. He writes:

Chashm-e-num, jaan-e-shoreeda kaafi nahin. Tohmat-e-ishq-e-posheeda kaafi nahin

He writes that silent love and tears do not suffice one’s duty to the country. Strife and struggle are necessary in the face of tyranny and exploitation. In his poem “Aaj Bazaar Mein”, which he wrote during his captivity in Lahore Jail, he calls out for those with “exposed palms”, “muddy hair” and “blood on the chest” to move forward. The closing verses may be rendered in English thus:

Come, gather your possessions, O people with injured hearts. Come, O Friends, Let us go and get killed.

A committed Marxist, Faiz sought the liberation of the subjugated from tyranny. His poems have been lovingly read, cried upon and enthusiastically discussed by many Pakistanis who loves this country, the Pakistani language and Pakistani literature - simply because the verses brim with Faiz’s love for the state and its people. It is, however, crucial to bear in mind that Faiz Ahmad Faiz was just not another political poet. While his poetry came with a political message, it has been immortalized for its literary value. The imagery, metaphors and musicality of the poems – all work together to establish Faiz as a poet who set forth his own style of writing, while borrowing sparingly from Mirza Ghalib’s style, popular during the European Surrealism of the early 1920s. For an average reader, Faiz’s sensitivity to beauty and nature, and the careful rendering of those sensations into verse, is nothing short of a breathtaking wonder. A work titled “Manzar” serves as an excellent example of Faiz’s mastery with images. His use of an image of ‘the lingering blue shadow’, which transitions into ‘the blue lake’. The serenity of the lake is disturbed by a falling leaf that creates transitory ripple. The image of the flowing lake dissolves to give way to the cascading hues of wine, as it flows to stain the walls of the glass. The magic of the verses can be felt upon the skin. The images, forever marveled upon. Faiz’s greatest poetic achievement is the marriage of art and ideology in his poetry. The verses allow for both literary pleasure and social consciousness. It is a pity that the current generation, while taking pride in Western authors, hardly ever turns to marvel upon our own legends. Faiz Ahmad Faiz is a poet who should be read, re-read, and read once more by all.

Mehdi Hassan died today after 84 years of serving us. There are no words to capture the influence he had over my generation and the ones before me. May you rest in peace Khan "Saheb". The "Kesariya balama"has finally left us all to his new home. From Khyber to Dhaka and from Skardu to Deccan wafts a lifting and profound voice that bonded all the discerning lovers of music. The highly trained vocals were none other than Mehdi Hassan ’s, which leave music buffs like the me wondering how Mian Tansen may have sung "Raag Darbari", his own innovation, with full-throated ease and with what degree of perfection in Emperor Akbar’s court, be it in Agra, Lahore or Fatehpur Sikri. Listening to Mehdi Hassan ’s flawless exposition of what is often referred to as the most royal of the "raags" on which he based his composition of Perveen Shakir’s ghazal "Ku baku phael gayi" one must feel privileged to be living in the melodious age of Mehdi Hassan . But it is not merely Darbari that he excels in; name any other raag that he has garbed his "ghazals" in and you will not miss his flair for classical music. [[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G9f4eJ-tC3U]] While the melody queen Noor Jehan reigned over the world of Pakistani film music, Mehdi Hassan retained his status as Shehanshah-e-Ghazal, an icon, a cult in the Pakistani musical universe. His skills as a singer were matchless. Alas, the voice was silenced for many years due to his prolonged illness for nearly a decade. The man behind this soulful, mellow and earthy voice has been hidden behind our general inclination not to document the lives of the outstanding characters in our cultural life. On Pakistan’s culture, or lack thereof, the less said the better. Even at the best of times, we have been confounded by debates on whether music is haraam or halaal? Or where the glorious traditions of sub-continental Hindustani ends and the new Islamic state’s cultural ethos begin. The debate, instead of getting resolved, has worsened with the rise of fully armed hordes of obscurantists, which are not just anti-culture but a threat to Pakistan’s existence as a pluralistic and vibrant society. Therefore, writing on music and tracing the footprints of a legend are an act of defiance in itself. It is an act challenging the orthodoxy for those who wish to eradicate the melody from our lives. Rejuvenation and preservation of our fading cultural memory, needless to say, is essential to our survival. Rajasthan is known for its haunting melodies celebrating the relationship between the earth and the soul. The echoes of nomads and "banjaras" (gypsies) roaming its deserts are said to merge into sand dunes and shining stars. And it was in the town of Luna, of district Jhunjhunu in Rajasthan, where Mehdi Hassan was born in a family of musicians in 1927. His father Ustad Azeem Khan and uncle Ustad Ismail Khan were well-known classical singers and soon became his mentors and role models. Reportedly, Hassan ’s first public performance took place when he was eight-years-old at the Maharaja of Baroda’s darbar. After Partition, Mehdi Hassan moved to District Khushab in the Sargodha region of Pakistan and took a job as an automobile mechanic, perhaps explaining the scientific precision of his skills. However, the immense talent refused to be marginalised in the wilderness of central Punjab. Within years, Radio Pakistan glowed with his melody in 1952. This was the time when he sang the immortal ghazal "Gulon mein rang bhare baad-e-naubahaar chale" written by Faiz Ahmed Faiz. His elder brother, Pandit Ghulam Qadir, composed that ghazal and two other classics. [[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZmILnjSmYAY]] A formidable icon had emerged whose voice and mastery led the subcontinental diva, Lata Mangeshkar, to remark, "un ke gallay mein bhagwan boltay hain" (God speaks in his throat.) With his credentials as a maestro established in a short span of time, Mehdi Hassan moved to film music where he was to enjoy a unique position as a playback singer. He was neither a pop star nor a film singer, as we understand today through the Bollywood lens. His was a musical soiree that was a blend of the popular and the courtly, of the sublime and the banal resulting in some of the best film music in Pakistani history. Perhaps one of the cultural bonds between the eastern and western wings of pre-1971 Pakistan was Mehdi Hassan ’s music. I have met several men and women in Dhaka who while struggling to locate some positive memories of their united Pakistan experience point towards Mehdi Hassan ’s songs and ghazals. The repertoire of his film music was also wide-ranging and continued through the decades. Earlier songs, "Aye roshnian ke sheher bata" from film Chingaari (composed by Khawaja Khursheed Anwar), "Tu lakh chahe ye jaane baharan" from Najma (composed by Master Inayat), "Ik naye mod pe le aaye hai halat mujhe" from Ehsan (composed by Sohail Rana) and the experimental "Mein hoon yahan tu hai wahan" from Gharnata (composed by A Hameed) set new standards for film music not only in Pakistan but throughout South Asia. The songs memorable for their soulfulness among others were: "Jab koi pyar se bulayega, Yoon zindagi ki raah mein takra gaya koi, Mujhe tum nazar se gira tau rahay ho," and the ultimate piece of complete music, "Ik husn ki devi se mujhe pyar hua tha". Small wonder that Mehdi Hassan’s oeuvre is ever popular and rendered even today by young and new artists to make them accessible to the youth of today. The list is endless, almost like a mythical, boundless sea. For any geet (song) touched by Mehdi sahib’s intonation has something special and surreal to offer: the utterly romantic "Zindagi mein to sabhi piyar kiya kartay hain", the sultry numberTere bheegay badan ki khushbu, and again a love paean "Piyar bharay do sharmeelay nain" will always be reminisced. Millions who understand Urdu and Hindustani must have wondered with Mehdi Hassan "Kyon humse khafa ho gaye". Pakistan’s perennially popular film Aaina, acquired another dimension with the soft tunes and notes rendered by Mehdi Hassan . From the modern "Kabhi mein sochta hoon kuch na kuch kahoon" to the anguished cry through "Mujhe dil se na bhulana", his film music rose above the commercialism of cinema. Even many years later, his melodies were always in public demand and was a dream project for any composer. Later, in the early 1980s, Bandish gave us another brilliant song "Do pyasay dil aik huay hain aise, bichrein ge ab kaisay". The film journey, majestic and fulsome, as it was, benefited greatly from the parallel stream flowing in our cultural veins in the form of ghazals and semi-classical pieces. The two reinforced each other and even merged at many points. When the film music genre interacted with the ghazal idiom, the results were absolutely astounding. Two examples are the ghazals composed by Ahmad Faraz which were rendered with extreme sophistication and the adroitness of a miniaturist: "Abke hum bichray to shayad kabhi khwabon mein milain,"and the masterpiece Mehdi Hassan based on the evergreen raag– Aiman- "Ranjish hi sahi, dil hi dukhane ke liye aa". Be it Mir, Ghalib, Faiz or any of the long line of contemporary poets such as Parveen Shakir and Faraz, Mehdi Hassan had the innate art to bring out the best from Urdu’s versified poetry and its tender images. The ultimate of ghazals, a piece-de-resistance, is Mir Taqi Mir’s "Patta patta boota boota, haal hamara jaanay hai", (composed by Niaz Hussain Shami) which remains an outstanding chapter of ghazal singing. Parveen Shakir's first book Khushboo received its greatest tributes in the form of Mehdi Hassan ’s extraordinary rendition of "Ku baku phail gayee baat shanasai ki". His exposition of Raga "Tilak Kamod in Dukhwa main kaise kahoon mori sajni" is a sample of high points of semi-classical music. This composition testifies to the virtuoso’s genius for its effortlessness and sheer beauty. As if this incredible dexterity, range and diversity are not enough, Khan sahib’s essential command over the folk genre has been a spectacular treat. In particular, "Kesariya balama," the eternal Rajasthani song delivered amazingly with the range of the Thar desert, is an imprint on our collective memory that refuses to fade away. Mehdi Hassan ’s richness of expression and superb career is a matter of our pride. His voice is what I grew up with. I remember my childhood when the radio, television, cinema and mehfils (events) were nothing but revered grounds devoted to Khansahib. His popularity cuts across ethnic, provincial and linguistic divides. But what did the state do? A mammoth entity and the state showed minimal interest in the treatment of Mehdi Hassan ’s prolonged illness to the extent of being cruel. The least that Pakistan’s officialdom could have done was to take care of its brilliant performer who gave music to a turbulent and tumultuous country. But this has been our tragic tradition. Our greatest artists, singers, poets and intellectuals have suffered at the hands of a conformist society and state captured by puritans especially since late 1970's. It is never too late for the intelligentsia of this country to mobilise public pressure on the state so that it learns to respect cultural diversity and consider it imperative to nurture a creative, healthy and civilised society. An ailing Mehdi Hassan is now no more but his longevity is ensured through his legendary voice that will echo with us forever. This post originally appeared here. Follow Raza on Twitter @razarumi

As a director, the making of ‘Vo Jang’ was one of the hardest feats that I have ever had to complete. I went through hours of grave contemplating, thinking, and absorbing the gruesomeness of the status quo of Pakistan. At times, the experience became so overwhelming that I would break down completely. Nevertheless, some things have to be said and some brutalities have to be faced. Evil has to be confronted and demons have to be fought even if it all comes at the price of standing on the verge of losing your sanity. ‘Vo Jang’ is a beautiful albeit saddening piece of poetry by Faiz Ahmed Faiz, coupled with the sheer melodic talent of ‘Laal’. It is a montage of heart-wrenching images of sufferers, as well as pictures that give rise to hope; photos of Pakistani heroes. It pains me to say that many Pakistanis are still confused about the extremists that have brought so much suffering upon us. They either believe that much of this is exaggerated, mythical, or is being done at the behest of foreign powers in order to justify or extend Afghanistan's occupation. The fact remains that extremism has roots within our own society. Regardless of what happens with respect to the US presence in Afghanistan, we have to recognise that we'll have to face this problem with our own strength and for our own sake. It is a reminder that we must stop hoping for someone dependable to help us all the time. With the recent escalation of attacks and other incidents of intolerance, I feel that it is all the more necessary that we understand the utterly destructive nature of these forces and come together to struggle for a progressive Pakistan. Confronting this fascist enemy is the most important task for the people of Pakistan today. I hope that this music video will be able to contribute in that struggle by fortifying our resolve to overcome all difficulties, and all physical or emotional barriers in our path. We all wish to see an umeed-e-sahar (ray of hope) for Pakistan, and that will only come about through sacrifice, struggle and the strength of our convictions. In the end, however, I am confident that spring will come and wash away all our sins and sorrows. As Pablo Neruda put it:

You can crush all the flowers but you cannot stop the spring.

Laal’s new video is on the trials, tribulations, and sacrifices of the people of Pakistan of diverse faiths and ethnic backgrounds, in the struggle against extremism in our society. When you feel all is lost, when your mind, body and spirit are stretched to the breaking point, take strength from the impassioned words of Faiz Ahmed Faiz. Take strength Pakistan, and fight for a progressive future. Join us on Facebook for blog updates and more!

Music has been a humbling and character building experience for me and all the melodies I made and sung are witness to this over time transformation. I still remember the day when Jal had recently split and I was wandering around the office of Indus Music (IM) to get the video of “Yaqeen” done. It was my first ever solo track. Those were the most sceptical days of my life - a time when I was caught between my dearest hopes and darkest fears - hopes of making it really big and proving to my parents that music was worth a gamble and fear of being proven wrong. I was deathly frightened of being yet another one-hit wonder of Pakistan and being unable to add anything significant to the incredibly rich heritage of the country. We have a history that gave us icons like Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan and Faiz Ahmed Faiz - maestros who still move me and give me a reason to be comfortable with who I am. To be honest, I haven’t read much of Faiz so wouldn’t go on bragging about it, but my little exposure to his work tells me a lot about the hopeful rebellion in him - something that is the driving force behind any rock star. In Khan Sahib, I found refuge; every note of his singing is a beacon of light for me and every kalaam he sang is a major driving force for me and many other influential people around the world. People say it reflects in the arrangement of my songs, and if there are any similarities in the music, then it’s just the result of amateur attempts by this naïve kid called Atif. I knew that my presence in Bol was to attract the youngsters towards cinemas and I am proud of supporting a Pakistani film; above all, the aim was to bring attention to one of the gravest social issues of the country. However, when Mira Nair approached me to sing for “The Reluctant Fundamentalist” I was totally overwhelmed because she is a globally known filmmaker who is ready to tell one of the most controversial narratives from my homeland. Once again, I had to tackle “Mori Araj Suno” and “Bol Kay Lab Azaad Hain” by Faiz Ahmed Faiz, and really wanted to do it with my all-time inspiration, Peter Gabriel from Genesis. The budget limitations couldn’t let this happen so I made this possible on my own and became the second Pakistani to collaborate with Gabriel after Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan. The whole feeling of writing about this is so awe-inspiring that I really can’t explain how I felt when Gabriel, after listening to one of my vocal takes said,

“Yours is the finest falset to that I have ever heard after Jeff Buckley.”

I am not really trying to blow my own trumpet, but since it’s my first time writing for my fans, I believe such life changing experiences are pertinent to mention. As a cultural ambassador, the image of Pakistan has always been a major concern for me and that is the reason why I chose a platform like “Sur Kshetra”. Friends and critics had concerns over it; some thought that by going against Bollywood, I’ll be denting my own prospects in the B-town, while others thought that the Indians are way ahead of us. The result shocked everyone as after a lot of pinching arguments with the jury and sheer hard work we finally brought the title to Pakistan. Something that seemed like a dream to Pakistanis was finally accomplished in style. It is achievements like these that make me a true believer in myself and above all, in my country. Such achievements make me realise the responsibility of being a person with mass appeal. Today, when I walk up on the stage and the crowd starts shouting my name, I feel like a man with immense power and thought control - someone who literally made his voice heard, but as soon as I get closer to stage and the noise increases; it sends a chill down my body and gives me goose bumps. The fear of losing everything I have grasps me once again and I feel as vulnerable as 10-year-old Atif looking for his mother to console him over a broken toy. This feeling of helplessness, even after dominating the music scene of one whole region, is what brings me down to earth from my wonderland - a place where I can belong, but choose not to. That’s not where my heart is. That’s not where I can make a stand and that’s not where the people who made me Atif Aslam belong. May God give me the courage to continue the journey that has just begun. Long live Pakistan! Follow Atif on Twitter @itsaadee

In grade six, I handwrote Ibne Insha’s “Kal Chaudvin Ki Raat Thee” and gave it to a girl I firmly believed to be my soul mate. Her lack of enthusiasm at replying with an equally moving ghazal (or even replying at all) dismayed me so I delved further into Urdu literature than I had ever before.

“What was a grade six student doing reading Ibne Insha?” I hear you ask.

To put matters in perspective, I had grown up in a house full of books. I carried my Famous Five right next to Inspector Jamshed and His Gang. Books on history and Islam happened to be the easiest to access and were my first scalps. Daily subscriptions of newspapers Dawn and Jang ensured access to further reading material and Young World and Akhbar-e-Jahan became weekly fixtures. Reading the news paved way for an interest in politics and gradually it evolved into a taste for satire. Thus, I came across Ibne Insha’s Urdu ki Aakhri Kitab. The vocabulary was like nothing I had ever read before so my parents bought me a Ferozul Lughat (popular Urdu dictionary) to help me understand. I fell in love and there was no looking back. Shafeequr Rahman, Dr Younis Butt and Patras Bokhari became friends that narrated wonderful tales to me. Once I had devoured as much satire as I possibly could, I ventured into the poetry collection in our house. I felt confident enough to finally give these thick books with yellow pages a try. Faiz Ahmed Faiz and Perveen Shakir were the first poets I read. Soon, I added Ibne Insha, Ghalib, Mir Taqi Mir, Iqbal, Mir Anis and Ahmad Faraz to the list. Since we study Urdu only as a second language under the O’ Level system, I aced my exam with ease and once A’ Level rolled around, Urdu got neglected, pushed aside and forgotten. Two years later I packed my bags and headed to Toronto for university. Written Urdu had long been cast aside and now it was spoken Urdu that suffered the same fate. English was the global language, I reasoned, and soon I would have no use for Urdu in my daily life. Much as I try to rationalise that piece of thinking, I cannot anymore. I finished school in April 2012 and moved soon after to Saskatoon, Saskatchewan. It was here, in a new town, that I discovered how much I missed Urdu. Toronto had been a melting hub of cultures and, therefore, even when I wasn't speaking in Urdu, I was always overhearing others converse in my native language. Saskatoon was a different case altogether and it was there in my Urdu deprived state that I stumbled upon Coke Studio. Even though this was three years after the first episode had aired, it couldn't have come at a better time for me. I diligently went through episode after episode taking it all in. I was proud of myself for remembering most of the lyrics of old works; I was blown away by the new tunes and creative fusions. I moved onto older Pakistani and Indian music and then back to reading poetry. I found Iqbal’s Shikwa and Jawab-e-Shikwa, Ghalib’s Deewan-e-Ghalib and Faiz’s Zindan-nama and gobbled them up much like I had done when I was younger. Urdu welcomed me back into the fold with both arms wrapped tightly against my insolent self. I could not fathom how or why I had let go of the language that taught me to express myself eloquently. Much as I loved English, the lack of adjectives and even pronouns was bothersome. There is a well known cliché about how everyone is addressed as 'you' in English but Urdu does the job better for different relationships; 'aap', 'tum' and 'tu' all convey the same meaning, but cannot be used interchangeably. Urdu poetry is unique. I tried to translate it into English for some of my friends but failed miserably. Therefore, like any zealot, I blamed it on the limitations of the English language. I started teaching my friends Urdu much like I had tried to back in grade six. This required me to write again. I have to admit that writing again after seven odd years seemed more difficult than I thought. Even though I was regularly reading, it proved harder to put my thoughts into words on paper. I persevered, and much as I would like to say, it has been successful. I’m still a bit hesitant when it comes to writing and often resorts to second guessing myself. I don't mind one bit; it took me years to realise what I had thrown away and if I had to find my flair back the hard way. It's the least I could do. The important thing is I learned my lesson and no matter where I go in life from here, Urdu will always be a cherished part of it. Read more by Nabeel here.

Reports circulated earlier this week about the dismal conditions Roohi Bano was currently living in. The former television actress was said to be residing without access to gas and power and there were widespread calls by television personalities and other members of the society, beseeching the government to interfere and provide adequate support. This was identical to the reaction witnessed, in the aftermath of similar reports originating a couple of months ago, regarding Munna Lahori, popularly known as Zakoota Jin, also of television fame. The bigger question that needs to be addressed here is that of state patronage for artists - who, when, why and should the government step in to support? In the heydays: State patronage of artists in South Asia is synonymous with the Mughals. Some of the greatest contributors to literature from South Asia were taken care of by the court. Thus freed from the chain of concepts such as working to survive or being responsible for dependents, these writers, poets and historians produced a rich literary collection that we proudly call our heritage. However, it should be noted if the court had not provided sustenance, these artists, poets and historians would not have been adequately compensated which would have left our heritage substantially lighter- the 15^th to the 18^th century South Asian society did not have sufficient disposable income to indulge the extravagances of these artists. Therefore, it can be argued that in retrospect, the state stepping in was more of a necessity than the luxury it so overtly seems. Argument for state support: Calls for such state patronage invoke much debate today- those in favour of the state’s patronage of artists argue the importance of arts and culture to a society. In the cases of Roohi and Munna, their contributions to the television history of Pakistan are irreplaceable. Roohi became associated with the fledgling industry in the late 1960’s and early 1970’s while Munna immortalised Zakoota Jin for an entire generation of Pakistani’s growing up in the 1990’s. The legacy of these two stars is not in question- the issue seems to be whether these achievements warrant government support? Argument against state support: Critics of state patronage of artists disagree- a popular objection is that artists today cannot be compared those of the yesteryears because of the role money has come to play. Modern day artists are extremely well compensated - media rights, sponsorships, product endorsements and personal ventures, to name a few- and have created more wealth than ever. Thus, the critics argue, the onus of managing one’s own finances lies with the artist. Careful planning and a modest lifestyle in the heyday would ensure provision of funds long after the acting/writing/composing days are over. This is a sound, rational argument but contextualising it to Roohi and Munna does not do justice to either the argument or the actors. Both Roohi and Munna shot to fame due to their affiliation with shows on the Pakistan Television Corporation, a state run entity. Up until the early 2000’s, a career in the television industry was nowhere as lucrative as its bigger screen counterpart. Indeed, by all accounts, it was a mere pittance for the artists’ services. Thus, the compensation argument does not hold in this case. Would the argument still hold for artists launching their careers today? This question needs to be addressed separately. Pandora’s Box: Who all can the state support? Another important question that arises is the issue of whom to patron? So far, the case on our hands has been simplistic because both Roohi and Munna are popular, television stars. Increasing privatisation has resulted in a record number of productions starring Pakistanis, both home and abroad, in documentaries, television serials and movies. The news media has become an industry on its own while competitive sports has emerged as the country’s most popular form of entertainment. Our poetic and written traditions are still strong and have kept pace with the world whilst regularly compete for prestigious international awards. Defining patronage could be hazardous- over a long period of time, it has the ability to drive people to and from an industry. Patronage is often accompanied by inefficiency and while the artists from the days of the Mughals produced breathtaking works in different genres despite guaranteed sustenance, what they would have done under real competition remains speculative. What is the alternative to state support? A viable alternative often presented is that the state should recognise, and not necessarily patronise, artists. In theory, this presents the artists with a target to aspire towards without draining the resources of the state. However, as a nation, we have a poor track record of identifying our artists. N M Rashid, considered the father of progressive Urdu poetry, was laid to rest in England because he opted to be cremated rather than buried. His contributions were more than just literary - he served as Pakistan’s ambassador to the United Nations. Similarly, some of our most famous poets like Faiz and Jalib spent their better days in jail for voicing their opinions against the incumbent governments. While most of them went on to be recognised later on under different governments, questions can rightly be asked about whether such criticism would have reared its head under a system of state patronage? The arguments for and against state patronage are plenty. However, extreme care should be taken to not be dismissive of the unique problems faced by both Roohi and Munna. Roohi’s only son was shot dead in 2005 and her living conditions indicate that she needs support regardless of where it’s coming from; Munna suffered paralysis and any support would be a welcome gesture. The issue of state patronising artists is multi-faceted. Before we embroil ourselves in the debate, we must first address issues that plague us today. In a country where we constantly bemoan the lack of national assets, let us start by supporting the ones we already have.

History tells us that all great nations were once not great. A nation like America had been war struck for more than 100 years. Racial inequality was at its peak in America. The economy was badly affected eight years ago. England too was war ridden for many years. China was once a collection of divided people with vastly differing aims. All great nations faced a plethora of problems before they became truly great. [caption id="" align="aligncenter" width="624"] A citizen of the great Pakistan. Photo: Salman Javed[/caption] I am citizen of a country where, Every day, Earth witnesses blood, The sky witnesses injustice, The sun sees poverty, The stars see slums. And the moon sees darkness. But, every day, I smile and Tell the earth that there will be peace, I tell the sky that there will be justice, And the sun that there will be prosperity, The stars that there will be great cities, And the moon that there will be lights with hope, One day... On my land ‘Pakistan’. When I look at Pakistan, something spiritual awakens deepens deep inside me, a sense of holiness towards my country. Even the mere mention of its name warms my blood. Its quiet greatness is palpable. This land is very different from all the other lands described above; the smell of its soil is full of hope. This nation is very different from all the other nations; it has the courage that no other nation has on earth. Why, you ask? Because Pakistan is special; because Pakistan can attract leaders like Jinnah from England. It is the land of dreamers. It is home to great poets like Allama Iqbal and Faiz Ahmed Faiz. The soil of this land has tasted the blood of martyrs like Major Aziz Bhatti Shaheed. A land where the definition of struggle lies within our spirits; a land of Sufis. This land has given birth to legends, ones about who chapters in history were written. I believe that one day this land will bring a Jinnah. This land will welcome an Iqbal. This soil will taste the blood of Aziz Bhatti. This land will be a place of justice and dignity. This land will be an example of true struggle with a true spirit. Legends will be born on this land and they will make the flag of Pakistan a shadow of peace and its anthem, a song of love and brotherhood. Yes, I believe it will happen. I believe. Long live Pakistan; long live its people.

Once upon a time, a Pakistani who also happened to be an Urdu literature lover, was travelling from one city to another somewhere in the northern areas of Pakistan. Throughout his journey, only two books were his companion – Deewan-e-Ghalib and Kalaam-e- Iqbal. During a long bus journey, his tired and weary yet over-imaginative mind was in a half-sleeping and half-dreaming state. In this trance, he found Ghalib and Iqbal sitting in the seats right next to him talking to each other, completely oblivious of his presence. This is the conversation that ensued between these two great Urdu poets: Iqbal

“Aah! Look at those beautiful mountains and lush green valleys. If you remember Ghalib sahib, I had once said,

Nahin tera nasheman qasr-e-sultani kay gumbad pe, Tu shaheen hai basera kar paharon hi chatanon per (Your abode is not on the dome of a royal palace, For you are an eagle, destined to live on the hard rock’s of mountains)

But very few people now seem to remember this message, sigh.”

Ghalib

“You are right. Muslims have a short memory Iqbal sahib, especially when it comes to what their elders said. By the way, last week I was in one of your big cities for only three days. Trust me, there were times when I felt,

Rahiye ab aisi jagah chal kar, jahan koi na ho, Hum sukhan koi nah o, aur hum zubaan koi na ho (It is time to now go somewhere and live where no one resides, Where neither there is someone to talk with, nor someone to understand the language)

The city was over-crowded and literally seemed to be bursting at the seams. But no one really seemed to care about the next person. People seemed to be too busy in their own ‘cocoons’ – in their self-created world. I was surprised to see their selfish ways and found them to be quite similar to our cities back in India as well. The world has changed Iqbal sahib and not for the better I think.”

Iqbal

“That is so true. If you look at any city today – big or small – people seem to have become more and more materialistic, corrupt and selfish. Yet, in spite of being so self-absorbed, they seem even unhappier. They seem to have forgotten the very reason that this country was made for. I wish they could share the dream I had for this land.

Mahroom-e-tamasha ko phir deeda-e-beena de, Dekha hai jo kuch mein ne, auron ko bhi dikhla de (Give piercing vision to those so deprived of sight, Show to others whatever I have seen)

I was dismayed to see that instead of being concerned for this ailing country, the younger generation is busy with their own petty love stories, political feuding and worst of all, malicious practices and propaganda against each other in the name of religion. Yesterday, I went to pray at a mosque but there was a group of young men outside, who asked me, ‘Are you Sunni or Shia?’ What a question!”

Ghalib

“Hahaha! I was pulled aside in a crowded market once and asked to lead the prayers since a group of people missed the congregation prayers in the mosque. My beard must have given them the impression that I was religious. But then they found another person right there with a beard that was an inch longer than mine and thankfully they let me go. I personally think that our youth is frustrated because of a lack of opportunities and corruption. Unfortunately, they are all too aware that there is no future for them even if they manage to get an education somehow. There are no employment opportunities without having influential contacts and sources. In such a situation, what else can be expected?

Gham gar-che jaan-gsal hai, par kahan tak bachein kay dil hai, Gham-e-ishq gar na hota, gham-e-rozgaar hota (Threatening as love is, there is no deliverance from the heart, If not the torment of love, it would be the torment of living)

I find it sad that we, the early generation, failed to establish corruption-free systems and now the youth have to reap what we sowed.”

Iqbal

“Hmmm, perhaps you are right Ghalib sahib. But I do not understand how and where we went wrong? We were on the right track when we started but then I do not know what happened.

Uss mauj kay maatam mein, roti hai bhanwar ki, Darya say uthi, per saahil say na takrayee (The whirlpool mourning, eyes weep for that lost wave, Born of the sea and yet never to reach the shores)

Do you remember how jubilant we were when we succeeded in our struggle for a separate land – the land of the pure? We forgot all our personal sorrows and sacrifices because finally, we had the most important thing – our Pakistan.”

Ghalib

“Not just Pakistan Iqbal sahib, look at India as well. Things are not very different there either. Basically I think that all of us forgot everything and celebrated too soon. The euphoria of driving the British off our soil put us in that toxic state of a high where we forgot the very reason we drove them out in the first place. Perhaps, this sense of elation affected the whole nation like sweet, slow poison. And now we complain about corruption, poverty, unemployment and religious chaos. I find it so sad that every other educated person wants to migrate to the US, UK or Canada to earn a decent living, realise their potential and live a better life.

Hai ab iss maamooray mein qahet-e-gham-e-ulfat Asad, Hum nay maana kay Dilli mein rahein, per khaweingay kya? (There is now in this town, a famine of the grief of love, Asad We have agreed that we would remain in Delhi – but what will we eat?)

Oh! That reminds me, have you filed your immigration papers for Canada yet Iqbal sahib? What happened?”

Iqbal

“I did get a call from the authorities. My papers have been accepted and soon I will be off to Canada for good. They have decided to open a research university based on my philosophy and teachings. I guess that is the only way to keep myself sane and express my ideology without fear. I can no longer change my opinions just to please the ‘religious scholars’ here and I know that the west will listen to what I have to say with a more open mind. After all, how many times can I write Jawab-e-shikwa?

Bada kareem hai Iqbal-e-be-nawa lekin Ataa-e-shola, shararr kay siwa kuch aur nahin (Though beneficent I be, I am of hand yet free, What can the burning flame bestow, except its spark and glow)

So, what have you decided Ghalib sahib? I guess the extremists – be it Hindus or Muslims – are not too pleased with your ideology as well. You have always talked about the need for peace, harmony, love and oneness of all humanity and this message is nothing short of ‘blasphemy’ in these circumstances.”

Ghalib

“No plans really Iqbal sahib. All my friends like Meer, Momin, Haali, Sauda, even the young lads like Faiz and Faraz have left for greener pastures. I think I will also decide within the next few days. I have invitations from almost all the countries in the west.

Raw mein hai rakhsh-e-umer, kahan dekhiye thamay, Nay haath bag pe hain, na paa hai rakaab mein (The steed of lifetime is in motion, let us see where he might halt, Neither is the hand on the reins, nor is the foot in the stirrup)

I do not know what His plans for me are but I do know that living here has become a nightmare. How long am I supposed to stay silent?”

Iqbal

“Hmmm, I know what you mean. I will miss this land and some sincere people no matter what. But the situation over the last few decades has become such that I have not been able to sleep at nights for a long time.

Issi kashmakash mein guzri, meri zindagi ki raatein, Kabhi soz-o-saaz-e-roomi, kabhi pech-o-taab-e-raazi (So many nights of my life wasted in the same old conflicts, Sometimes the ecstasy and melody of Rumi, other times confusion and dilemma of Raazi)

Not saying it the way it is in fear of displeasing the religious lords and politicians just isn’t my cup of tea.”

Ghalib

“Yes, I feel the same. I really do not know how I will live away from my beloved Dilli. But as you said, it is important to express what is in our hearts and minds. Sometimes I seriously feel that it was all a waste.

Na tha kuch tou, khuda tha, kuch na hota tou khuda hota, Duboya mujh ko honay nay, na hota main tuo kia hota? (When nothing existed, then God was there; had nothing been, God would have been, My own being has defeated me, had I not been what would have been?)

Well, nothing except Allah.”

And suddenly, the ‘true’ Pakistani – that poor Muslim (not a Sunni, Shia or any other sect – just a Muslim) Urdu literature lover snapped out of his weird dream and looked around the bus in embarrassment. However, all the passengers were busy looking at cricket scores and listening to cheap songs on their mobile phones. This ‘true’ Pakistani was last seen somewhere on the streets of America.

A walk along this city's empty streets is not an easy one. It has become customary to bathe the city streets in blood every day. The time is not far when graveyards will no longer be accommodating. Once known as the city of lights, it is only death, nowadays, that has the last laugh here. In this city, the recent cold-blooded murder of Sulaiman Lashari, a young boy, at the hands of another young boy, Salman Abro, is a horrific shocker. Unfortunately, this incident is not the first of its kind. In the recent past, murders at the hands of youngsters have attracted a lot of media attention in Pakistan. It would be fair to predict that, as time passes by, these kinds of incidents will become a common practice. And we will become used to it, for we have already become used to suicide bombings, gunny bags stuffed with dead bodies, shutter-down strikes and more recently the Vigo-guard culture in this society. Though these murders were committed by individuals, collectively, these incidents aren’t the result of an individual’s behaviour. This madness can partially be called a parenting failure but also reflects on the failure of our social structure at large. It is impossible for a civilised society to flourish in the absence of morals and human values, which is exactly what is happening around us right now. In any intolerant society, such as ours, a bullet is seen as the most feasible way of settling any difference of opinion. Human rights activist and advocate of the Supreme Court, Rashid Rehman, was told in court that he would be killed for accepting the brief of an accused blasphemer. And, as promised, he was killed. Professor Shabbir Shah, of the University of Gujrat (UoG), had to depart early from this world for holding liberal views. Dr Manzoor Memon was brutally murdered for reasons yet unknown to public. Governor Salman Taseer was gunned down in broad day-light for talking sense, while his killer went on to become a national hero. The judge, who decreed his killer capital punishment, had to run for his life and has been in exile ever since. We, however, now have a mosque in the capital named after his killer, Mumtaz Qadri, and a library named after the slain founder of al Qaeda, Osama bin Laden. Not to forget, we have our national ballistic missiles named after Afghan beasts, Mahmud of Ghazni and Shahabuddin Muhammad Ghauri. What values would the youth learn in a society where men such as these are hero-worshipped? Analysing history, we see that every third world country has a hero like Jinnah. However, seeing the conditions of this country, even Boko Haram would feel shy committing the atrocities that are committed here on everyday basis: the mass graves in Baluchistan, the burning alive of Sindhi politicians, the issue of missing persons. If elections ever made any difference in this country, the real rulers wouldn’t ever let us have them. Circumstances change; different actors come to stage and perform a script written by the real rulers. Power greedy rulers have done little towards nation building. Those who did were labelled traitors. Fatima Jinnah, Zulfiqar Ali Bhutto, Faiz Ahmed Faiz, Ahmad Faraz, Habib Jalib, if these people were traitors then which sane, wise man wouldn’t want to be amongst this hall of fame? What these power greedy rulers fail to understand is that, it is in the nature of power that it is does not belong to anyone. It is fictional and befriends none, nor is loyal to one. We need to realise that our school books are full of lies, our clerics preach hatred, most of our heroes were demons and women till date are killed for giving birth to girls (56 killed in 2013). We have become boiling volcanoes of extremism and intolerance. Our religious, ethnic and other divisions keep increasing by the day and soon the day will come when it will be a fight of every man against every other man. Our mosques, temples and churches are no longer safe. Killing of good men no longer causes alarm in our society. It is that which resides in the chest and that which knows or thinks – the rational soul – that seems to have gone missing. We now frighten the world with our polio spreading capabilities, as if having a green passport wasn’t fun enough. Do we even realise how scary a place we appear to the world? Naturally, the upbringing of youth in such a society is bound to produce generations that would lack wisdom, vision and morals. These generations will be brainless and filled with hatred, aggression, and intolerance. They will be violent and will denounce humanity and peace. However, insanity is a valid legal defence to any crime. Therefore, these generations, while young, must best be labelled a master-mad youth.

The murder on a mundane Monday morning was as meaningless as the murder on a tedious Tuesday morning. The details, however, differ in terms of bullet count. Dr Mehdi Ali Qamar, an Ahmadi cardiologist based in the United States was visiting Pakistan to carry out voluntary work at a local hospital. On Monday morning, May 26, 2014, he was shot 11 times while he was visiting a cemetery in the town of Chenab Nagar. On the other hand, Professor Shabbir Hussain Shah was a student service director at the University of Gujrat and a Shia by sect. On Tuesday morning, November 19, 2013, the bullets spewed on him when he was about to reach the university campus were countless. These two murders are as meaningless to reason as they are meaningful to the murderers. Both professionals were killed because they belonged to sects different than those of their murderers. Both fell prey to the vicious on-going murder campaigns against Shias and Ahmadis. Both bore the brunt of their state’s inaction during the rising incidents of religiously motivated targeted killings of professionals. Both shared the common denomination of being the wrong kind of Muslims. However, the most horrifying aspect of the whole state of affairs lies in the futility of the murders that have come to be an everyday phenomenon. Massacres have never been so inconspicuous before. Internalisation of violence is so axiomatic that it can only be defined in terms of numbness. Intellectuals and professionals have always been the foremost target throughout history when it comes to repressing the voices of dissent. But in this case, it is not even dissent that has brought the horrors of death upon the slain. It is merely their existence that has become their unforgiveable crime. There are people who speak from the valley of death. They harbinger the new dawn for which they perished. They unite the living from their resting place and show them the path forward. And then there are those who go to eternal oblivion just after they are dead. They don’t speak to the living. Their eternal silence constitutes the dead conscience of those who are still living in this mortal world. The absence of their memory haunts the society forever. Ours fall under the latter category, those who are numerous and forgotten. Not only have we lost them but the count too. What we do possess though is the bullet count. During the distant afternoons when Professor Shah would speak about Marxism’s relevance in modern times during Thinkers Forum’s gatherings in Gujrat, he never would have even imagined being gunned down because of his name or his belief. Similarly, when Dr Mehdi was volunteering for the second time at the Tahir Heart Institute, a hospital specialising in cardiac treatment, he never would have thought of getting shot because of his faith. But then, survival in the land of the pure is coupled with the cross you are bearing. This is all too similar to the Star of David put on the sleeves of Jews for identification purposes during the Holocaust by the Nazis. This was also done irrespective of their professions. Messiahs have been murdered for not what they had done but for what they were. They do not speak to the living from their resting place. They will be joined by many very soon and they will fall silent collectively only to haunt the living with their silence. Piles upon piles of lives are destined to go wasted as long as the meta-narrative of hate and intolerance exists, until the state keeps excommunicating people and playing God, until spewing venom on pulpits is allowed. Such are the inconsequential murders of our times. Until then, it is obligatory for poets to write poetry of pain, for perpetual pain has a right to poetic expression. Until then, it is necessary for benign observers to keep track of the trickle of blood that flows from under the doors, streets and keeps following the spear. Until then, it is imperative for writers to fearfully write about the withering innocence. Until then, it is essential for the living to keep breathing unashamedly. After the 1995 massacre in Karachi on the occasion of Ayub Khan’s election, no one but Faiz Ahmed Faiz could enliven the unspeakable futility of the blood spilled in vain.

“Na razamgah mein barsa ke moatbir hota, Kisi alam pe raqm ho ke mushtehar hota, Pukarta raha beaasra, yatim lahu” (It did not flow in the battlefield to win public acclaim, Nor did it wet the battle flag to broadcast its fame, It was the poor, orphaned blood, it cried out in vain)

While surfing the net I stumbled on Saad Rafique’s harangue in the Parliament, berating Imran Khan for owning a dog called Sheru. He seemed rather upset at the animal’s domestic privileges and rebuked Imran for allowing Sheru to sit on a drawing room sofa while showering heaps of affection on him. In his tirade against his political opponent, Rafique emphasised how keeping dogs and being affectionate towards them is against our cultural/religious values. Now, I happen to be a staunch supporter of animal rights, with a special place in my heart for dogs. Hence, I do not take kindly to arrogant human beings directing their derogatory rhetoric at these loyal creatures just because Sheru cannot answer back in his defence. If Sheru could answer back, however, this is what he would tell Saad Rafique: The Quran mentions the dog twice; once, while indicating the usefulness of hunting dogs that retrieve the prey for humans to cook and eat and second, as the steadfast companion of Ashab-e-Kahf. Both examples are positive and a testament to the dog’s loyalty. Pleading his case further, Sheru would argue that Sufi literature speaks highly of his brethren. Baba Bulleh Shah, for example, admonishes humans for being unmindful of God’s many blessings, unlike dogs who are grateful to their master even in adversity, who never abandon their posts and never give up their duty as guard-dogs, even when they are not fed sumptuous food. Their love is unconditional and a model for those wishing to attain spiritual growth. Bulleh Shah goes to the extent of urging himself thus:

Bulleh Shah uth yar mana ley Nahin tey baazi lay gaye kuttey, tain thee uttey (Oh Bulleh Shah do not be lax in striving in the way of God or else dogs will attain a higher spiritual station in the eyes of the Lord and will be placed above you).

Sheru might, with all due respect, take Bulleh Shah’s comparison a step further and apply it to the political opportunists who are loyal to their masters as long as they are well-fed. Expanding his premise, he would argue that dogs do not bite the hand that feeds them unlike those who are given political power by the people but who in turn abuse their benefactors. After arguing his case in philosophical terms, Sheru, the dog, would then turn to ground realities. He would, in all humility, inform Saad Rafique, the loyal buddy of the self-proclaimed Khadim-e-A’alaa, that his species is actively involved in quietly serving humanity by assisting the physically challenged, visually impaired and the elderly with limited mobility. He would proudly remind him how dogs are contributing every day to human welfare by helping law enforcement agencies in tracking criminals and drug traffickers and locating accident victims who are unable to move. Can Saad Rafique, Sheru might ask, enlighten us with some of his welfare initiatives for the miserable millions? He would politely ask him to watch a documentary on the dogs that died while saving lives during the Vietnam War by shielding soldiers from enemy fire. Sheru might even dare to inquire with just a hint of sarcasm,

“If push comes to shove would you do that for your master, sir?”

And last but not least Sheru would recite Faiz Ahmed Faiz’s brilliant poem entitled ‘Kuttay’ in which the poet has employed the street dog metaphor to highlight the plight of the “mazloom makhlooq’’ – the marginalised and the alienated. In this poem is a warning for the wealthy and the powerful who in their smugness believe that their pride will somehow survive their fall. Beware Saad Rafique:

Yeh chahain tou dunya ko apna bana lain Yeh aaqa’on ki hadiaan tak chabba lain (Street dogs have the capacity to take over the world. If they were to use their God-given sharp teeth to stay the hand of their apparently powerful handlers they could crush every bone in their body.)

Well then, it looks like the ordinary people in D-Chowk are raising their voices to highlight the plight of the “mazloom makhlooq” condemned to live like animals. One can choose to disagree with their method but not with their message and this is what is eating the likes of Saad Rafique. No sir, this will not do. You ought not to humiliate God’s creatures, whether two-legged or walking on all fours. Instead of depicting poor Sheru as a “na-pak” entity, and by extension cast aspersion on Imran’s religious credentials, our Parliamentarians would do well to take a good look at their own double standards and self-serving attitude, otherwise Bulleh Shah will be forced to call out from the grave,

Baazi lay gaye kuttey, tain thee uttey.

Jallianwala. Dhaka. Quetta. North Waziristan. Peshawar. Places change but stories remain the same. That doesn’t make the heartbreak any more bearable. The unanswerable ‘why’ still looms over our heads. Why this? Why now? Why us? Today’s massacre in Peshawar reverberates throughout the country. I cannot even fathom what the parents of the children are going through but I write to tell them they are not alone, it is the least I can do. It is the least I can do to at least try to reach a level of catharsis which will make me feel capable of ever feeling again, which will make me feel a shred of humanity, any sense that this remains a world I want to continue living in. A world shared by death and the bringers of death. Do these people not have children of their own? Maybe they had them once. The sight of a baby’s clothes charred black hurt just as much, no matter what country, creed or religion the baby belongs to. I am sorry we brought you into a world of such terror; you deserved better. Maybe God agreed, which is why He took you away from us so soon. You deserved better. We are a country of martyrs, we create them and we become them; the cycle of violence never stops. We celebrate the dead, we celebrate the murderers. Our celebration of unbridled joy at the top of the Ferris wheel pushes it into motion; soon we find ourselves at the bottom watching others celebrate the same. We do not get off the Ferris wheel; we simply look to get back on top. We are told that we stand at a sensitive junction – the crossroads of time yet we see nothing at the turn. There is more darkness beyond darkness. There is no sun outside our Platonian cave; are we destined to always merely see the shadows? Generation after generation inheriting a war till the point that nobody even remembers why we are fighting; we are bound to remember but we are also bound to forget. Peshawar will be a mere statistic in the years to come in the growing lists of massacres in the country. The families will remain forever affected, the population will move on. Oblivious how hypocritical any cries of ‘bomb their families’ are. Faiz Ahmad Faiz asked how many rains it will take to wash the stains of blood in 1971, 43 years later we are still looking to wash the stains with more blood. Wondering why they are not going away. Will we never see the patch of green promised to millions? This is not what Pakistan was meant to be. We decry the broken promises, the shattered dreams but we fail to ask who hijacked them? Whose wars have we been engaged in for over 60 years? Why are we still fighting them? All questions lead to more whys we might never know. We will die and the next generation will ask the same questions. There will be another Zarb-e-Azb, there will be another Peshawar. 180 million hearts will break again. A population will cry out again,

“Why?”

All we are left to do is to shed more tears, lose more children – the innocent always suffer the most. Our gardens continue to turn barren yet we continue to scorch more land. The sound of a mother’s cry is louder than a bomb. Will we be remembered by images of the empty cradles, the unworn shoes and the sounds of soothing lullaby heard by no one? An eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind but where does a child for a child leave the world? How many children will die before we realise that too many have died? To adapt a quote by Friedrich Gustav Emil Martin Niemoller said during World War II,

“First they came for the Hindus, I was not a Hindu so I said nothing... then they came for the Bengalis, and I didn’t speak up because I wasn’t a Begali... then they came for the Ahmadis, I didn’t speak up because I wasn’t an Ahmadi... then they came for the Hazaras, I didn’t speak up because I wasn’t Hazara... When they came for me, there was no one left to speak out.”

There are no words I have to express my sadness at what happened in Peshawar. I cannot even console myself let alone somebody else. All that comes to mind are words of Faiz Ahmad Faiz,

“Aaj kay naam aur aaj kay gham kay naam, Aaj kay naam kay hai zindagi ki bhaarien gulistan se khafa, Zard patton ka ban Zard patton ka ban jo mera desh hai Dard ki anjuman jo mera desh hai Un dukhi maon kay naam” (A toast for today and a toast for today’s grief, A toast for today for the spring of life is displeased from its garden, Yellow leaves in autumn, Yellow leaves in autumn that is my nation, Unbearable pain that is my nation A toast to those sorrowful mothers)

Today is the 14^th death anniversary of Malika-e-Tarannum Madam Noor Jehan. Yes, it’s been 14 long years since South Asia’s queen of melody left us all, after she suffered from a prolonged ailment, at the age of 74. Famous for her silken saris, bold eye make-up, unique hairstyles and glittering diamonds, Noor Jehan’s melodious voice touched millions and created a matchless blend of vocal gestures and emotional expressions, which interpreted feelings in a very surreal way. A legendary singer, all her musical performances have a distinct manipulation and creation of vocal articulation, all done according to the standards of style and genre of every song. Born as Allah Wasai on September 21, 1926, in Kasur, Punjab, Noor Jehan had an extensive career in the history of subcontinent’s film and music industry, spanning seven decades. From film direction and music composition to singing and acting, she did it all. In fact, she was the first female singer in the subcontinent to record a qawwali called Aahen na bharin shikve na kiye, for the movie Zeenat in 1945. [embed width="620"]http://www.dailymotion.com/video/xmhwn7_aahen-na-bharin-shikve-na-kiye-zeenat_shortfilms[/embed] She has sung almost 10,000 songs in diverse languages, including Urdu, Punjabi and Sindhi, and has received numerous awards as well as titles for her performing skills. Some of them include the President’s Award, Tamgha-e-Imtiaz, The Pride of Pakistan, Bulubul-e-Pakistan, The Millennium Singer, and Cultural Ambassador of Pakistan. She was solely responsible for changing the face of the subcontinent’s film music by inducing arousal, feelings, emotions and mood in the music genre. She influenced poets, singers and particularly composers to enhance their compositions and play with creativity. In fact, even Lata Mangeshkar imitated Noor Jehan’s singing style at the beginning of her musical career as a playback singer in Bollywood. [embed width="620"]http://www.dailymotion.com/video/xurppy_chandni-raaten-sab-jug-soye-noor-jahan_music[/embed] While talking about her famous film songs, one cannot ignore classics such as Kuch log rooth kar bhi, Chandni raatein, Sada hon apne piyar, Kala sha kala hai, Chand hanse dunya base roye, Gaey gi dunya geet merey, Hamari sanson mein aaj, Mahi awey ga, Sun wanjli di mithri tan way, Sayyo ni mera mahi, Sone di tavitri and many more. [embed width="620"]http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x1s8u9z_noor-jehan-hamari-sanson-mein-aaj-tak-woh-mere-hazoor_music[/embed] [embed width="620"]http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x1s4f3x_noor-jehan-je-main-hundi-dholna-sone-di-taweetri_music[/embed] These melodious compositions, along with her daring and enchanting voice, still creates a trance over her listeners. [embed width="620"]http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x106kox_sayyo-ni-mera-mahi-mere-bhag-jagawan-aa-gaya-noor-jehan-by-aslam-nasir_music[/embed] Each song is a matchless piece of art, and each brings out an unusual sensation in us – this is the most influential aspect about her singing. Her dominant voice portrays what we feel inside, which many of us literally don’t know how to express. Who can forget her mesmerising duets with Mehdi Hassan, Ahmed Rushdi, Masood Rana and Mujeeb Alam? Urdu and Punjabi filmgoers can still recall those songs for their intense exquisiteness; Aap ko bhool jayen from the film Tum Milay Pyaar Mila, Koi yun bhi roothta hai from Aas and Cheti bhori ve tabiba from Tere Ishaq Nachaya are just a few examples. https://soundcloud.com/alvina69capk/aap-ko-bhool-jayen-hum-itne-to [embed width="620"]http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x19olto_koi-yun-bhi-rothta-hay-noor-jehan-ahmed-rushdi-aas-raja-faiz_music[/embed] She has truly demonstrated that music is not only a source of amusement but also a great way to channel patriotism among the masses. She paid a tribute to the Pakistan army soldiers who embraced martyrdom during the 1965 Indo-Pak war. Ae puttar hattan te nahi wikde, Ae watan ke sajile jawano, Rang laye ga shahedon ka lahu, Mere dhol sipahiya and Mera mahi chail chabeela are some of the unforgettable, poignant war songs wherein her voice promoted morale and emotions. She had the ability to breathe life into her lyrics. https://soundcloud.com/dododeedee/noor-jahan-ae-watan-ke-sajeele-jawano It is the beauty of her accent and expressions that make her stand out as a singer, even today. Listeners can feel her spirit speaking to them through songs like Roshan meri ankhon mein. [embed width="620"]http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x1am8dl_roshan-meri-ankhon-me-wafa-k-jo-dye-hain-noor-jahan_music[/embed] She did justice to Allama Iqbal’s thought-provoking poetry, Har lehza hai momin and anyone who listens to her song would feel the unmatched combination of verses and vocals in it. [embed width="620"]http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x1a4987_noor-jehan-har-lehza-hai-momin-ki-kalaam-allama-iqbal_music[/embed] With her mesmerising voice, Noor Jahan decked ghazals in her own traits and turned them into something absolutely beautiful. With every poetical message, be it by Faiz Ahmed Faiz, Nasir Kazmi, Mustafa Zaidi, Jamiluddin Aali or Bulleh Shah, she was able to create a sophisticated persona around it. Using illustrated expressions and gestures, she was able to add a new dimension to ghazals – and she did it with class. Some of my favourite Noor Jehan melodies include: Mein tere sang kaise chaloon [embed width="620"]http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x15vwry_mein-tere-sang-kaise-noor-jehan_music[/embed] Dil dharakne ka sabab yaad aya [embed width="620"]http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x12g0e4_noor-jehan-dil-dharakne-ka-sabab-yaad-aaya_music[/embed] Dil ke afsane [embed width="620"]http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x12g0yn_noor-jehan-dil-ke-afsane-nighahon-ki-zaban_music[/embed] Jo na mil sake wohi [embed width="620"]http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x1sm0ie_noor-jehan-jo-na-mil-sake-wohe-bewafa_music[/embed] Kabhi kitabon mein phool [embed width="620"]http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x12g3b6_noor-jehan-live-kabhi-kitabon-mein-phool-rakhna_music[/embed] Mujh se pehli si muhabat [embed width="620"]http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x12gmto_noor-jehan-live-mujh-se-pehli-si-mohabat_music[/embed] Raat pehli hai tere surmai aanchal ki [embed width="620"]http://www.dailymotion.com/video/xnt3ez_raat-phaili-hai-tere-surmayi-aanchal-ki-tarha-the-greatest-malika-e-taranum-noor-jehan_music[/embed] I am a big fan of her timeless music and the more I listen to her songs, the more impressed I get. It is absolutely impossible to cover each and every song of hers in a single blog. One would need multiple piles of books to praise her accomplished career. No doubt, she has an undisputed place in South Asia’s music industry. Her powerful melodic voice will continue to enchant hearts of coming generations. Gone, but never forgotten, rest in peace, Malika-e-Tarannum Madam Noor Jehan. You are still missed.

While many progressives are fond of extolling Faiz Ahmad Faiz’s lament on the unfulfilled promise of postcoloniality, his evocative poem Subh-i-Azadi (The Dawn of Freedom), in prose, it is actually Saadat Hasan Manto who captures the opportunism and political chicanery which characterised the newly-formed state of Pakistan. In his little-known short story, Dekh Kabira Roya (See, Kabira Cried) published soon after Manto’s reluctant migration to his new country, Manto uses the famous 15^th century Sufi poet Bhagat Kabir as a protagonist to presciently satirise the emerging trends of intolerance, orthodoxy and cultural chauvinism in the newly-independent state, which are all too familiar in Pakistan in the 21^st century. As such, this fable may also be read today as an accurate socio-political parable for modern Pakistan, or as a disguised, albeit thinly, autobiographical portrait of Manto’s own Kabirian plight during the eight years he survived in independent Pakistan. I am presenting it here in the original English translation on the occasion of International Translation Day today, as well as the fact that 2015 marks Manto’s 60^th death anniversary.

The news spread like wildfire; anyone found begging would be arrested. The arrests began. People began to celebrate, since a very ancient curse had been banished. When Kabir witnessed this, his eyes brimmed with tears. People asked, “O weaver! Why do you cry?” Kabir replied, crying, “Cloth constitutes of two things, fibre and thread. The fibre of arrests has indeed been initiated, but where is the thread for filling the empty belly?” An MA LLB was allocated 200 looms. When Kabir saw this, his eyes brimmed with tears. The MA LLB asked him, “O weaver’s son! Why do you cry? That I have forcibly taken away what is your right?” Kabir replied, crying, “Your law explains to you the point about leaving the looms alone, and to sell the quota you get for the thread. What’s the point of this useless noise after all, if you can do without it for free? But this noise is the weaver’s life.” Large and small envelopes were being made out of the formatted leaves of a published book. Kabir picked up a few envelopes and upon reading the printed words, his eyes brimmed with tears. The envelope-maker asked in amazement, “Mr Kabir, why are you crying?” Kabir replied, “These papers are replete with Bhagat Surdas’s poetry. Don’t demean it by making envelopes out of it.” The envelope-maker said in amazement, “One who has a name like Surdas can never be a Bhagat.” Kabir began to weep incessantly. A very beautiful idol of (the Hindu goddess) Lakshmi was erected atop a high building. When some people made the building their office, they covered the idol with dirty rags. When Kabir saw this, his eyes welled up. The office workers consoled him and said, “Our religion does not permit such idols.” Kabir said, looking at the dirty rags with moist eyes, “To defile the beautiful is also not permitted in any religion.” The office people began to laugh. Kabir began to weep inconsolably. The general addressed his combat-ready army, “Food is short, but we don’t care. The crops are ruined, no worries. Our soldiers will take on the enemy on an empty stomach.” Two hundred thousand soldiers began to shout “Zindabaad” (Long Live) Kabir began to cry at the top of his voice. The general got infuriated and cried out, “O man, can you tell why you cry?” Kabir said in a weeping voice, “O my brave general who will fight hunger?” Two hundred thousand men began to shout “Kabir Murdabaad” (Death to Kabir) “Brothers, keep a beard. Trim your moustaches and wear the ordained pyjamas. Sisters, wear your hair in a single braid, don’t apply make-up, wear the burqa!” a man was shouting in the bazaar. When Kabir saw this, his eyes became moist. The shouting man cried in an even higher pitch, “Kabir, why have you started crying?” Kabir replied, controlling his tears, “You neither have a brother nor sister. And why have you dyed your own beard, wasn’t it better to have let it be?” The shouter began to abuse Kabir and Kabir’s tears began to overflow. A heated argument was going on. “Literature for literature’s sake.” “What nonsense! Literature for life’s sake.” “That age is past; literature is another name for propaganda.” “Damn you…” “Damn your Stalin…” “Damn your reactionary and sick Flaubert and Baudelaire!” Kabir began to cry. The arguers ceased their argument to pay attention to Kabir. Someone asked, “There must be something in your subconscious which was hurt.” Another said, “These tears are a result of bourgeois tragedy.” Kabir began to cry more forcefully. The arguers unanimously queried in a tired voice, “Mister, tell us why do you cry?” Kabir said, “I cried so that you can understand whether literature is for literature’s sake or life’s sake.” The arguers laughed. One of them said, “He is a proletarian jester.” Another said, “No no, he is a bourgeois charlatan.” Kabir’s eyes refilled with tears. An order was promulgated for all the city’s prostitutes to marry within a month and take to decent living. Kabir passed a red light area and upon seeing the discoloured faces of the prostitutes, he started crying. A maulvi (religious cleric) asked him, “Maulana, why are you crying?” Kabir answered, crying, “What spousal arrangements will the teachers of morality devise for these prostitutes?” The maulvi didn’t comprehend Kabir’s response and laughed. Kabir’s eyes became moister. A man was addressing a crowd of 10 - 12,000 people, “Brothers, the case of the salvaged women is our biggest problem. We should find a solution first and foremost. If we remain negligent, these women will take to prostitution. And become whores. Do you hear, will become whores. It is your responsibility to save them from this terrible future and to accommodate them in your homes. Before you yourself, your brother or your son get married, you should never ever forget these women.” Kabir began to cry inconsolably. The speaker stopped and pointing at Kabir loudly addressed the audience, “See this person has been so deeply moved.” Kabir said in a sobbing tone, “O Emperor of Words, your speech hasn’t moved me one tiny bit. I am thinking that you have yet remained a bachelor yourself for want of marrying a wealthy woman, so my eyes brimmed over.” A shop-board had the following inscription on it, ‘Jinnah Boot House’. Upon seeing it, Kabir began to cry inconsolably. People saw a man standing, his eyes fixed to the board and crying constantly, they began to clap their hands, “A madman, a madman!” When the country’s greatest leader passed away, there was mourning far and wide. Many people began to walk around with black bands worn on their arms. When Kabir saw this, his eyes welled up. The black band-wearers asked him, “Why are you so afflicted that you started crying?” Kabir replied, “If these black bands are collected, they can clothe thousands.” The black band-wearers began to beat up Kabir. “You are a communist, fifth-columnist, a traitor to Pakistan.” Kabir laughed, “But friends, I am not wearing a band of any colour on my arm!”

A recent poll done by BBC World Service, found that people are more likely than ever to identify as ‘global citizens’. According to Globescan, which conducted the poll and interviewed more than 20,000 people, over 56 per cent of Pakistanis identify as global citizens. While 27 per cent identify as Pakistanis first, and 43 per cent say their religion comes before their nationality. Is the nation failing its citizens or has globalisation made borders so meaningless that people need new political orders to anchor them? Or is it just stating the obvious; Muslims are always Muslims first, nationals second? The caliphates from the Middle East to Africa, Spain, Turkey to Central Asia, have dominated the Islamic political thought for 1,400 years; can one really supplant it with mere democracy? For me, this poll was especially significant considering the myriad events that have been packed within last week – is Pakistan really is a democracy? A year ago Sabeen Mahmud was brutally murdered, this past week her friends and colleagues celebrated her memory from Karachi to London, New York and even Bogota. Sardar Soran Singh, a PTI Minority Affairs Advisor to the CM was shot dead in Buner, outside his home by the TTP (who also murdered Minister Shahbaz Bhatti in 2011). The weekly ‘honour’ killing took place as a young man murdered his sister Sumera in Karachi. On the other hand, Tabassum Adnan was awarded the Nelson Mandela award 2016 for setting up the first all-female jirga in Swat. Not to forget, the award winning documentary Among the Believers was banned by the Pakistan Censor Board and the Women’s Protection Bill was shelved by the Punjab Government due to pressure from the Council of Islamic Ideology and associated religious parties. So how does democratic Pakistan reconcile the reality above, with its choice of political order? The attraction of democracy was firmly entrenched by the Industrial Revolution, which mobilised the classes of people and the ideas that rippled across the globe from the American and French Revolutions. Colonial rule, which had swallowed up large masses of land and people, was finally more or less ousted. A system of government was vested in the people through elected representatives. Rapidly, the post-colonial world progressed to the model of democracy, one of the most dramatic evolutions in political order, with the number of electoral democracies progressing peacefully from 40 to 120, between 1970 and 2008. Pakistan adopted a constitutional democracy guided by the Holy Quran. It didn’t hurt that it complied so readily with the concept of Shura, the deciding of affairs through consultation, with those the decisions affect. Post-colonial Pakistanis emerged from the horror and bloodshed of partition, much like Napoleon to return right back to empire; at least in secret. A neo-colonial neo-imperial class of native orientalists had installed a new aristocracy – over those the decisions affect. The military-bureaucratic-religious tripartite regime began to create hurdles, barriers and blockades to liberal and class movements on account of them being against the ‘national ideal’. The Communist Workers Party suspected to be influenced and funded by the Soviet agencies, estimated to have just 3000 participants, was banned in July 1954 on charges of plotting to overthrow the government (Rawalpindi case 1951). After suffering numerous humiliations and imprisonments amongst other oppressions over decades, the ECP has finally registered the Communist Party in January 2013. Essentially the state machinery began a process of limiting freedom and negation of the citizen individual. Individualism makes the individual its foundation, in the struggle for liberation. Classical liberalism, from which democracy is derived, focuses on the right of the individual to self-realisation. This inclination also encourages creativity, innovation, and experimentation that may oppose traditional codes and behaviour. It is a moral stance that emphasises the rights of the individual challenging the collective power. People like Sabeen Mahmud, Salman Taseer, Shahbaz Bhatti, Samia Sarwar, Rashid Rehman, Malala Yousafzai and Hina Khan expressed some facets of this moral philosophy. They sought social justice, for themselves and for individuals who had access to none. In Pakistan, there is a rich history of peaceful defiance for social justice. In the 1950s with the cold war in the backdrop, Faiz Ahmed Faiz was seen as a challenge to the establishment with his bohemian and creative lifestyle. The military-bureaucratic leadership had categorised him and his peers such as Saajid Zaheer at the Communist Workers Party as a challenge to national identity. They didn’t kill him, but they imprisoned him and his peers and they set the ball rolling. In 1985, during the tenure of Ziaul Haq, with matters of social justice infinitely worse, Iqbal Bano sang a version of Faiz Ahmed Faiz’s iconic poem Hum Dekhen Ge (Wa-yabka wajhu Rabbik) to a packed arena of 50,000 in Lahore. This poem spoke of throwing off the shackles of tyranny and self-realisation, thoughts that were embedded in a quote from 10^th century mystic Al- Hallaj, central to Sufi ideology ‘I am the truth’. Defiance, poetic and eloquent then, is today iconic. Even Sufi Islam, was set apart as a left liberal cry, too racy for the national ideal. In the post 9/11 world, individualism in Pakistan hasn’t fared much better. Western societies that champion individualism (within their own borders) are viewed as infidel states and indigenous movements that uphold human, women’s, children’s and minority rights are viewed as inauthentic western agents by the Neo-Orthodox Collective. Locally, they take the form of development organisations, NGOs, cultural and rights campaigners, journalists, artists, writers’ even schoolgirls like Malala and Hina Khan. Malala is indigenous, an individual, a brutally marginalised child citizen and yet accused of the same in-authenticity. Why has the Pakistani state been so deficient in its capacity to include the indigenous citizen individual regardless of ethnicity, gender, religion or sect? Democracy requires a combination of state administration, law and accountability that serves the needs of the qaum, the people. Reconciling all elements of Pakistani society to this belief is the challenge of democracy and nationhood and unequivocally the responsibility of the state machinery. And in this, they have certainly failed. There are many gaps in Pakistan’s social fabric, the gender gap, minority gap, the poverty gap. But the Ahmadi example is striking in its depiction of a democratic deficit, since it is the only community to have persecution legitimised through legislation. At the instigation of religious parties, in 1954, anti Ahmediya riots erupted in Pakistan killing over 200 Ahmadis and destroying their properties. In 1974, a violent campaign initiated by Majlis-e-Ahrar-e-Islam and Jamaat-e-Islami resulted in violent, deadly and destructive clash, oddly enough, resulting in the criminalisation of Ahmadi religious practices. In 1984 General Ziaul Haq issued the Anti Ahmadiya Ordinance sanctioning their persecution. In 1986, a new blasphemy persecution also applied to Ahmadis to enhance this. In 2010, this escalated to over 90 people killed and 108 injured in simultaneous attacks by the Tehreek-e-Taliban Pakistan (TTP). Attacks on Ahmadis continue unabated, confirmed and legitimised as they are by the state and the neo orthodox factions of Pakistani society. The Ahmadi predicament leads one quickly from democracy and nationalism, the double-edged sword, to the national anthem, what better place to reassure us of our national value.

Pāk sarzamīn kā niz̤ām Quwwat-i Ukhuwwat-i ʿawām Qaum, mulk, salt̤anat Pāyindah tābindah bād

What is this qaum? What are these men, women, Ahmadis, Shias, Sikhs, Hindus, Christians to make of this mulk and sultanate (country) that cannot prevent their persecution? This nation, that steals the right of individuals to be themselves in the most totalitarian of ways. Submerged in this, there is that sweet defiance. That homage to the feared individual that reverberates from the poetry of Faiz’s Hum Dekhen Ge, to a poster at Sabeen’s T2F Pyar honay doh to chants outside Lal Masjid, demanding that sermons of peace and love emerge from mosques. These countless peaceful, yet defiant defenders of the qaum, rise up like a phoenix from the ashes. But is it time to accept that this political order is just that; ashes and dust? The fearful try to shoot them down, and silence them and erase them. The fear is in the cheer of thousands of people legitimising the murder of Salman Taseer, his murderer vindicated in death by allegedly defending the ‘honour’ of the Prophet (pbuh) and labelled a martyr by his, often violent supporters. It is in the rally of barely adult boys defending the right of a father to kill his daughter for ‘honour’ as they attend a screening of Sharmeen Obaid Chinoy’s Oscar winning documentary ‘A Girl in the River’. It is in the story of Saad Aziz who felt Sabeen had finally crossed the line by demanding words of peace and love emanate from the institution of the mosque. Defiance, Death, Silence and Erasure. Qaum, Mulk, Sultanate. Payinda Tabindah baad. [poll id="541"]

Works on Faiz and other books

Selling Faiz to the rich for Rs1,000

Hum Dekhenge: Jawad Ahmed massacres Faiz

This is my country, and I want it back

My art is not for you Prime Minister Gilani

Faiz: Political poetry for the soul

You were our star Mehdi Hassan

Vo Jang: Take strength from Faiz Pakistan

From Aadat to The Reluctant Fundamentalist: What makes me proud of Pakistan

Urdu and I: A love affair

Remember Zakoota Jin and Roohi Bano? They need us now.

Pakistan, a song of love and brotherhood

A conversation between Ghalib and Iqbal

Don’t blame the youth for Sulaiman Lashari’s murder

A numbness to murder

Imran Khan versus Saad Rafique: In defence of Sheru

180 million hearts broken… again

Noor Jehan: The undisputed queen of melody

Kabira is still crying in Pakistan

Will we ever be able to fill in the gaps in Pakistan’s social fabric?