It is perhaps impossible to reach a consensus on which places to include on a list of top attractions in Karachi. The geographical spread of the metropolis makes it difficult for one individual to see and know the entire city. To add to this, the city’s ever-increasing population and diversity ensure that you keep discovering new landmarks, rituals, food, beliefs, dialects and different ways of looking at it.

Karachi is full of forgotten stories, which any outsider may find perplexing, for Pakistan’s largest city has a relatively brief history. People living in the old quarters of the city never knew its former occupants and are thus unable to narrate the stories attached to their localities. You might stumble upon a story or two as you walk through the old streets or climb the staircase of one of the stone buildings and have a closer look at the nameplates.

This experience into the unknown is what makes exploring Karachi a fulfilling experience. This is what makes my Karachi different from yours.

It’s easy to love or hate Karachi, but it’s hard to remain indifferent to the City of Lights.

It has been more than a year since I wrote the first part of my DIY tour of Karachi. I have not stopped exploring the city in the meantime, and thought you might want to discover the less-explored areas of the city this time. Here is part II of the DIY tour:

Ratan Talao Gurdwara

The easiest way to find the Ratan Talao Gurdwara on a Sunday is to look for the famous halwa poori wala where people queue up early in the morning. The shop is set up in the shadow of another temple, which has been sealed after disputes over its ownership. Adjacent to the temple is the Nabhi Bagh College, where the rundown gurdwara still survives inside the college boundaries.

The side facade might give you the impression that the gurdwara is in reasonable condition, but when you get to the front door, you can see that the place is practically abandoned. The walls have survived with but the plaster has peeled off, the arches look shaky and the roof is gone.

The floor has disappeared behind shrubs and debris, but you can see a glimpse of the colourful tiles. There is a blackboard in the central hall of the gurdwara, hinting that it might have been used as a classroom. You will also find stone imprints of sacred Sikh symbols embossed on all four sides of the building.

Beaumont Lawns

Set in the heart of the Gandhi Gardens, these lawns have one of the oldest trees in the city. Even though they have gone through renovation a number of times, it is fair to say that the lawns have seen better days.

The layout of the garden, the use of red bricks, and age-old trees in the backdrop create a brilliant setting to spend an evening in Karachi.

Dhobhi Ghat

Footprint Pakistan Handbook calls Dhobhi Ghat one of the two most interesting sights for people watching in Karachi – and it lives up to this distinction. The ghat stretches approximately two kilometres along the banks of the Lyari River.

You will meet many people here who reminisce of the good days when the river had clean water. Even fish and groundwater were abundant. However, with the changing ecosystem of the city, the river turned into a sewage drain, making the water unusable and putting many dhobis out of business.

With time, the dhobhis have adopted to modern methods and washing machines have become increasingly common at the Dhobhi Ghat today. However, the dhobi’s donkey is still used to transport the clothes from and to the ghat.

Jewish cemetery in Kutchi Memon Graveyard

The Kutchi Memon Graveyard near Cheel Chowk is one of the oldest graveyards in the city and was originally a Jewish cemetery.

The graveyard is also a vibrant public space and you will find children and families here on weekends. When you reach the farther end of the graveyard, there are signs of a compound wall that used to be there. Within this space are old graves in dilapidated condition.

A local Memon Kutchi businessman, Haji Bachal, purchased and gifted this land to his community before Partition. However, Jewish graves remained intact and only withered away with time. Hardly a few tombstones have survived with legible writings in Hebrew, English and Hindi.

Lea Market

You have to fight for space with pedestrians, carts, cyclists, hawkers, and vehicles to enter the Lea Market. The iconic Clock Tower can guide you to the main entrance from distance, but you can also enter the trapezoid structure from many of the other openings. The multipurpose market is well designed but given the chaoticness, it is easy to get lost.

Lea Market was constructed in 1927 in the Napier quarters, which historically was a trading hub. It was named after Measham Lea, an Englishman who served as an engineer at the Municipal Corporation.

Today, every Karachiwalla must have heard of the Lea Market, even if they have never been there.

The market is at the intersection of Napier Road, Siddiq Wahab Road, River Street and Sheedi Village Road. Although Lea Market is easily accessible, which makes it an attractive choice for retailers, wholesalers and customers, it also makes the surrounding area polluted and congested. Traffic moves slowly and you have to remain vigilant before taking a step in any direction.

The Clock Tower takes centre stage in the market’s layout and depicts the current state of affairs as the clock remains frozen in time and the staircase to the tower is locked.

Dentist Gali and Lea Market bus stop

From the Lea Market, head to Napier Road. On your left, you will see a bus stop from where you can take a bus to most of the towns in interior Sindh. A little further away from the bus stop are a number of dental clinics. I remember a friend wondering aloud if people from this area suffer from a dental epidemic. Someone told me later that these dentists thrive on the travelers commuting from the bus stop, the proximity to which makes them an attractive spot to get a quick dental fix.

Nigar Cinema

If you keep driving straight on Napier Road, you will find yourself in front of Nigar Cinema, a good old single-screen cinema from the days of yore. Thanks to the heritage laws, the building has survived, but in reality it has only delayed its inevitable demise.

The building is now being used for a variety of purposes. There is a small Sufi shrine in its basement which attracts a lot of devotes, the lobby is used for raising sheep, and the main cinema hall is used as a warehouse.

The only thing related to art is the studio of Parvez Bhatti, Lyari’s Michelangelo – known for his portrait of Obama and his family – inside the compound. On a regular day, you will find him or his son busy painting commissioned work.

I came across two janitors during one of my visits here. As I asked for permission to take their photo, one of them hesitated and replied that he is only a janitor. The other janitor cut him short and said, with a wide smile, “Please take our photo, we might get famous.”

Narsingha Bhagwan Mandir

Tucked between multi-storey buildings in Ranchor Lines, this city secret has one of the most enthralling entrances. You have to walk through the narrow opening, typical to the residential quarters of the old town, before you come across a surprise in the courtyard.

A decorated door, adorned with a statuette on each side, welcomes you at the entrance of the temple. The interior is humble but well kept and is in deep contrast to the surrounding concrete buildings.

Narsingha Bhagwan is an avatar of Vishnu. He has a human torso and legs, but a lion’s head and claws. Vishnu took this avatar to defeat a demon king. A popular deity, you will find this incarnation depicted in sculptures and paintings all across India. The mandir is perhaps the only temple in Pakistan dedicated to the avatar of Vishnu.

Christ Mission Church and School

The school is one of the oldest in the city and has a glittering list of alumni, which includes the founder of the country, M. A. Jinnah, and a host of cricketers such as Intekhab Alam, Mushtaq Mohammad, Sadiq Mohammad, and Haroon Rasheed.

Henry W. Preedy, the first Collector of Karachi, founded the school in 1846. He was also the patron of the Christ Mission Church, which is across the street. The school was nationalised in 1971, and thus began the decline in the quality of the education and subsequent negligence by the bureaucrats in power. A few new blocks have been added to the school and the old blocks have been renovated, albeit with an ostentatious finish.

The church is one of the oldest Protestant churches in the city. It has hardly been changed over the years and remains almost the same, with 150 year-old façade and wooden instalments.

Baba-e-Urdu’s final abode

Very few buildings in Karachi will boast as decorated a history as the Anjuman-e-Taraqi Urdu office. Long before its association with Baba-e-Urdu, Maulvi Abdul Haque, and the Anjuman, the building was home to one of the finest schools in the city.

The foundation stone was laid in 1921 by Mahatama Gandhi, who took keen interest in its management. The school was named after Shri Sharda Devi Mata, the goddess of wisdom in Hindu mythology. Jamshedji Mehta, the founder of modern Karachi and its mayor, was chosen as President of the school.

The school relocated to Gujrat after Partition, but the building was handed over to Maulvi Abdul Haque, who used it as his residence and office. He was buried in the same building after his death.

Beech Wali Masjid

People in Marwari Lines claim that the Beech Wali Masjid was built 250 years ago, making it the oldest mosque in the city, if the claim is true. The Marwaris are known for their expertise in stonemasonry. Beech Wali Masjid, though only a shadow of its former glory, is a testimony to their craftsmanship.

The surviving stone facade has intricate designs around the main entrance and on the pillars. Sadly, the rest of the building has not survived in its original form and has given way to a more contemporary design that has concrete and tiles.

Roadside Café

This is one of the most original cafes in the city and a fitting place to end your journey after a tour of Karachi. The café has evolved over time, but remains a popular hangout place. It is one of those unassuming places where you are not under pressure to constantly order something to keep the owners happy.

The most striking feature of the café are the murals on its walls, painted by its resident artist, Irshad. The murals depict artists, sportsmen, politicians, architects, qawwals, designers, writers, singers and the café's staff, amongst many others. There is bit of a memory for all of us on these walls, and you can sit here watching people react to the murals. The collection keeps expanding and on some days, you can find Irshad painting a new portrait.

There is still much more to Karachi and this DIY tour should only serve as a start. When you embark on this journey, you will discover that your experience will be different from mine. Your Karachi will be different from everyone else’s. Only then will you understand the immensity of a city of more than 20 million people.

Have you explored any off the beaten tracks across the world and want to share your journey with us? Tell us about it at blog@dawn.com

Four months before the Uttar Pradesh election results sent Muslims in India reeling in shock, former Rajya Sabha MP Mohammed Adeeb delivered a speech in Lucknow, which, in hindsight, might be called prescient.

“If Muslims don’t wish to have the status of slaves, if they don’t want India to become a Hindu rashtra, they will have to keep away from electoral politics for a while and, instead, concentrate on education,” Adeeb told an audience comprising mostly members of the Aligarh Muslim University’s Old Boys Association.

It isn’t that Adeeb wanted Muslims to keep away from voting. His aim was to have Muslim intellectuals rethink the idea of contesting elections, of disabusing them of the notion that it is they who decide which party comes to power in Uttar Pradesh.

Adeeb’s suggestion, that is contrary to popular wisdom, had his audience gasping. This prompted him to explain his suggestion in greater detail.

“We Muslims chose in 1947 not to live in the Muslim rashtra of Pakistan,” he said. “It is now the turn of Hindus to decide whether they want India to become a Hindu rashtra or remain secular. Muslims should understand that their very presence in the electoral fray leads to a communal polarisation. Why?”

Not one to mince words, Adeeb answered his question himself.

“A segment of Hindus hates the very sight of Muslims,” he said. “Their icon is Narendra Modi. But 75% of Hindus are secular. Let them fight out over the kind of India they want. Muslim candidates have become a red rag to even secular Hindus who rally behind the Bharatiya Janata Party, turning every election into a Hindu-Muslim one.”

Later in the day, Adeeb met Congress leader Ghulam Nabi Azad, who was in Lucknow. To Adeeb, Azad asked, “Why did you deliver such a speech?”

It was now Azad’s turn to get a mouthful from Adeeb. He recalled asking Azad: “What kind of secularism is that which relies on 20% of Muslim votes? The Bahujan Samaj Party gets a percentage of it, as do the Samajwadi Party and the Congress.”

At this, Azad invited Adeeb, who was elected to the Rajya Sabha from Uttar Pradesh, to join the Congress. Adeeb rebuffed the offer saying, “First get the secular Hindus together before asking me to join.”

Spectre of a Hindu rashtra

A day after the Uttar Pradesh election results sent a shockwave through the Muslim community, Adeeb was brimming with anger. He said, “Syed Ahmed Bukhari [the so-called Shahi Imam of Delhi’s Jama Masjid] came to me with a question: ‘Why aren’t political parties courting me for Muslim votes?’ I advised him to remain quiet, to not interfere in politics.” Nevertheless, Bukhari went on to announce that Muslims should vote the Bahujan Samaj Party.

“Look at the results,” Adeeb said angrily. “But for Jatavs, Yadavs, and a segment of Jats, most Hindus voted [for] the Bharatiya Janata Party.” His anger soon segued into grief and he began to sob, “I am an old man. I don’t want to die in a Hindu rashtra.”

Though Adeeb has been nudging Muslims to rethink their political role through articles in Urdu newspapers, the churn among them has only just begun. It is undeniably in response to the anxiety and fear gripping them at the BJP’s thumping victory in this politically crucial state.

After all, Uttar Pradesh is the site where the Hindutva pet projects of cow-vigilantism, love jihad, and ghar wapsi have been executed with utmost ferocity. All these come in the backdrop of the grisly 2013 riots of Muzaffarnagar, which further widened the Hindu-Muslim divide inherited from the Ram Janmabhoomi movement of the 1990s and even earlier, from Partition. Between these two cataclysmic events, separated by 45 years, Uttar Pradesh witnessed manifold riots, each shackling the future to the blood-soaked past.

I spoke to around 15 Muslims, not all quoted here, each of whom introspected deeply. So forbidding does the future appear to them that none even alluded to the steep decline in the number of Muslim MLAs, down from the high of 69 elected in 2012 to just 24 in the new Uttar Pradesh Assembly.

They, in their own ways, echoed Adeeb, saying that the decline in representation of Muslims was preferable to having the Sangh Parivar rule over them with the spectre of Hindutva looming.

“Muslims need to become like the Parsis or, better still, behave the way the Chinese Indians do in Kolkata,” said poet Munawwar Rana. “They focus on dentistry or [their] shoe business, go out to vote on polling day and return to work.”

He continued: “And Muslims?” They hold meetings at night, cook deghs (huge vessels) of biryani, and work themselves into a frenzy. “They think the burden of secularism rests on their shoulders,” said Rana. “Educate your people and make them self-reliant.”

Readers would think Adeeb, Rana and others are poor losers, not generous enough to credit the BJP’s overwhelming victory in Uttar Pradesh to Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s development programme. In that case, readers should listen to Sudhir Panwar, the Samajwadi Party candidate from Thana Bhawan in West Uttar Pradesh, who wrote for Scroll.in last week on the communal polarisation he experienced during his campaign.

In Thana Bhawan, there were four principal candidates – Suresh Rana, accused in the Muzaffarnagar riots, stood on the BJP ticket; Javed Rao on the Rashtriya Lok Dal’s; Abdul Rao Waris on the Bahujan Samaj Party’s, and Panwar on the Samajwadi Party’s. It was thought that the anger of Jats against the BJP would prevent voting on religious lines in an area where the Muslim-Hindu divide runs deep.

This perhaps prompted Rana to play the Hindu card, and the Muslims who were more inclined to the Rashtriya Lok Dal switched their votes to the Bahujan Samaj Party, believing that its Dalit votes would enhance the party’s heft to snatch Thana Bhawan.

Communal polarisation

Sample how different villages voted along communal lines.

In the Rajput-dominated Hiranwada, the Bahujan Samaj Party bagged 14 votes, the Rashtriya Lok Dal not a single vote, the Samajwadi Party seven, and the Bharatiya Janata Party a whopping 790.

In Bhandoda, a village where the Brahmins are landowners and also dominate its demography, followed by Dalits, the Bahujan Samaj Party secured 156 votes, the Rashtriya Lok Dal zero, the Samajwadi Party nine, and the Bharatiya Janata Party 570.

In the Muslim-dominated Jalalabad, the Bahujan Samaj Party received 453 votes, the Rashtriya Lok Dal 15, the Samajwadi Party six and the Bharatiya Janata Party 23.

In Pindora, where Jats are 35% and Muslims around 30% of the population, the Bahujan Samaj Party polled 33 votes, the Rashtriya Lok Dal 482, the Samajwadi Party 33, and the Bharatiya Janata Party 278, most of which is said to have come from the lower economically backward castes.

In Devipura, where the Kashyaps are numerous, the Bahujan Samaj Party got 86 votes, the Rashtriya Lok Dal 42, the Samajwadi Party one and the Bharatiya Janata Party 433.

In Oudri village, where the Jatavs are in the majority, the Bahujan Samaj Party bagged 343 votes, the Rashtriya Lok Dal 15, the Samajwadi Party 12, and the Bharatiya Janata Party 22.

This voting pattern was replicated in village after village. Broadly, the Jat votes split between the Bharatiya Janata Party and the Rashtriya Lok Dal, the Muslim votes consolidated behind the Bahujan Samaj Party, with the Samajwadi Party getting a slim share in it, the Jatavs stood solidly behind the Bahujan Samaj Party, and all others simply crossed over to the Bharatiya Janata Party. The BJP’s Suresh Rana won the election from Thana Bhawan.

“Can you call this election?” asked Panwar rhetorically. “It is Hindu-Muslim war through the EVM [Electronic Voting Machine].” Panwar went on to echo Adeeb: “I feel extremely sad when I say that Muslims will have to keep away from contesting elections. This seems to be the only way of ensuring that elections don’t turn into a Hindu-Muslim one.”

The Bahujan Samaj Party’s Waris differed. “Is it even practical?” he asked. “But yes, Muslims should keep a low profile.”

Hindu anger against Muslims

For sure, Muslims feel that the binary of secularism-communalism has put them in a bind. Lawyer Mohd Shoaib, who heads the Muslim Rihai Manch, pointed to the irony of it. “For 70 years, we Muslims have fought against communalism,” he said. “But it has, nevertheless, grown by 70 times.”

Indeed, those with historical perspective think Uttar Pradesh of 2017 mirrors the political ambience that existed there between 1938 and 1946 – a seemingly unbridgeable Hindu-Muslim divide, a horrifyingly communalised public discourse, and a contest for power based on mobilisation along religious lines.

Among them is Mohammad Sajjad, professor of history at Aligarh Muslim University. “The 69 MLAs in the last Assembly was bound to, and did, raise eyebrows,” he said.

But what irks Hindus even more is that Muslims constitute nearly one-third of all members in panchayats and local urban bodies. “It is they who have become a sore point with Hindus,” said Sajjad. “When they see Muslim panchayat members become examples of the rags-to-riches story, the majority community feels aggrieved. It is not that Hindu panchayat members are less corrupt. But every third panchayat member being Muslim has given credibility to the narrative that Muslims are being favoured.”

The Hindu angst against Muslim empowerment is also on account of both the Bahujan Samaj Party and the Samajwadi Party being popularly perceived to be indifferent to the aspirations of certain subaltern social groups. For instance, it is this indifference that has led to non-Jatav Dalits and most backward castes, clubbed under the Other Backward Classes for reservations, to leave the Bahujan Samaj Party, as non-Yadav middle castes have left the Samajwadi Party. They did so in response to Mayawati turning hers into primarily the party of Jatavs, and the Samajwadi Party pursuing the Yadavisation of the administration.

“These aspirational Hindu groups are angry with the SP [Samajwadi Party] and the BSP [Bahujan Samaj Party],” said Sajjad. “Their anger against them also turned into anger against Muslims.” This is because it is popularly felt that the support of Muslims to the Bahujan Samaj Party and the Samajwadi Party brings them to power, turning these parties callously indifferent to the aspirations of other groups.

It is to neutralise the efficacy of Muslim votes, and also to teach their parties of choice a lesson, that these aspirational groups have flocked to the BJP. “This is why the very presence of Muslims in the political arena has become problematic for Hindus,” Sajjad said.

So then, should Muslims take Adeeb’s cue and retreat from the political arena or at least keep a low profile?

Sajjad replied, “Go ahead and vote the party of your choice. But after that, play the role of a citizen. If people don’t get electricity, protest with others. You can’t be forgiving of those for whom you voted only because they can keep the BJP out of power. This is what angers aspirational Hindu social groups.”

Indeed, it does seem a travesty of justice and democracy that Muslims should rally behind the Samajwadi Party in Muzaffarnagar after the riots there. Or that they voted for the Bahujan Samaj Party in Thana Bhawan in such large numbers even though Mayawati didn’t even care to visit the Muslim families who suffered unduly during the riots.

Introspection and self-criticism

Like Sajjad’s, most narratives of Muslims have a strong element of self-criticism. Almost all vented their ire against Muslim clerics. Did they have to direct Muslims which party they should vote for? Didn’t they know their recklessness would trigger a Hindu polarisation?

Unable to fathom their irresponsible behaviour, some plump for conspiracy theories. It therefore doesn’t come as a surprise to hear Obaidullah Nasir, editor of the Urdu newspaper Avadhnama, say, “They take money from the Bharatiya Janata Party to create confusion among Muslims. I got abused for writing this. But how else can you explain their decision to go public with their instructions to Muslims?”

Poet Ameer Imam, who teaches in a college in the Muslim-dominated Sambhal constituency said, “Muslims will have to tell the maulanas that their services are required in mosques, not in politics. When Muslims applaud their rabble rousers, can they complain against those in the BJP?”

To this, add another question: When Mayawati spoke of Dalit-Muslim unity, didn’t Muslims think it would invite a Hindu backlash?

Most will assume, as I did too, that Muslims fear the communal cauldron that Uttar Pradesh has become will be kept on the boil. But this is not what worries them. Not because they think the Bharatiya Janata Party in power will change its stripes, but because they fear Muslims will feel so cowered that they will recoil, and live in submission. “Our agony arises from being reduced to second-class citizens, of becoming politically irrelevant,” said journalist Asif Burney.

True, members of the Muslim community are doing a reality-check and are willing to emerge from the fantasy world in which they thought that they decided which party won an election. The Uttar Pradesh results have rudely awakened them to the reality of being a minority, of gradually being reduced to political insignificance, and their status as an equal citizen – at least in their imagination – challenged and on the way to being undermined.

But this does not mean they wish to enter yet another world of fantasy, which journalist and Union minister MJ Akbar held out to them in the piece he penned for the Times of India on March 12. Akbar wrote,

“…[T]his election was not about religion; it was about India, and the elimination of its inherited curse, poverty. It was about good governance.”

One of those whom I spoke to laughed uproariously on hearing me repeat Akbar’s lines. So you can say that with them believing their future is darkled, Muslims at least haven’t lost their humour.

This article was originally published on Scroll and has been reproduced with permission.

Karachi has witnessed at least three major garbage outbreaks. At the same time, ironically, the history of the city also suggests that it not only managed to eliminate these outbreaks, but actually became one of the cleanest cities in India and then Pakistan. So there is always hope.

The first outbreak

When the British attacked and annexed Karachi in 1843, the city was part of Sindh which was being ruled by the Baloch Talpur dynasty. According to famous British officer and writer, Richard Burton, and those who penned entries in the 1919 Sindh Gazetteer, Karachi had a population of about 20,000 people at the time of the annexation.

Much of the city’s population was concentrated in two areas, Manora and Lyari, which were protected by a large fort (Qasim Fort). Outside these two areas, the city was barren, largely covered by mangrove forests, sand dunes and wild shrubs, and having a variety of birds (mainly kites, sparrows, parrots and crows) and animals such as dogs, cats, wolves, foxes and even a few black panthers. A deep pond near a shrine in Manghopir was full of crocodiles (it still is).

The population was concentrated in Manora and Lyari, mainly due to the fact that fresh water wells were available here. British soldiers and travelers found the people living in close proximity in mud houses in areas which had narrow, unpaved streets and no garbage collecting or any sewerage system.

The Sindh Gazetteer informs that the population was a mix of Hindus and Muslims, mostly Sindhi and Balochi speakers. There was a sprinkling of mosques, Sufi shrines and Hindu temples. Burton, in his writings on Sindh, also speaks of "no less than three brothels" and appalling sanitation conditions.

He described the men of Karachi as hard working but brutish and that the women loved to wear colourful clothes but were "very loud". The murder rate was high and alcoholism was rampant.

The British began to develop Karachi’s natural harbor and this drew more people to the city. The British developed cleaner "cantonment areas" away from the more populated areas of the city. Karachi’s population grew from 20,000 in 1840s to almost 100,000 in the early 1890s. The garbage and filth continued to mount, though.

In 1896, a ship from Calcutta (present-day Kolkata) docked at the Karachi harbour. A Bubonic plague epidemic had struck Calcutta. Dozens of rats carrying fleas which cause the plague made their way into Karachi from this ship. The mounting garbage dumps and dreadful hygiene conditions in the city were ideal for the rats to feast, multiply, and shred the fleas they were carrying.

By 1897, the plague had spread throughout Karachi. Thousands of Karachittes died painful deaths and thousands were quarantined as British doctors and traditional Muslim and Hindu medicine men tried to contain the outbreak.

The turnaround: ‘Paris of Asia’

The plague was largely contained by the early 1900s and the British doubled their efforts to further develop the city. This also saw the construction of a complex sewerage system, garbage disposal and collection mechanism, and regular cleaning of roads and streets (sometimes with water).

Even though, according to published statistics of the period, the city’s population had grown to over 300,000 by the 1930s, Karachi had risen from filth to become a bustling and lucrative trading and business hub and a preferred place of leisure. It also became one of the cleanest cities in India. It began being dubbed as the 'Paris of Asia'.

Still clean: ‘The City of Lights’

Karachi received a huge influx of millions of Muslim refugees from India after the city became part of Pakistan in 1947. Its population was 435,887 in 1941 but drastically rose to 1,137, 667 in 1951 (a growth of 161%).

With the city’s resources coming under tremendous stress, the government struggled to accommodate the influx. But a boom in exports of Pakistani agricultural products in 1950-51 somewhat stabilised the situation, especially since Karachi was the country’s only port city and an economic hub.

Remarkably, the sanitation mechanism put in place by the British did well to cope with the drastic growth in population. It was further modernised, mostly during the hectic industrialisation period initiated by the Ayub Khan regime (1958-69).

Even till the early 1960s, many roads and streets were still being washed with water, and, apart from the situation in the slums which had grown after 1950, there was no garbage collection and disposal problem. In the early 1960s, Karachi had become the 'City of Lights’ – the business hub and leisure centre of the country.

The second outbreak

Karachi’s population had increased from 2,044,044 in 1961 to 3,606,744 in 1972. The city was the epicentre of the industrialisation policies of the Ayub Khan regime. This had created a great demand for labour which largely came from the NWFP province (now Khyber Pakhtunkhwa).

An intense countrywide protest movement against Ayub in the late 1960s badly affected Karachi’s economy. The city’s sanitation mechanism broke down as well. For the first time after the 19th century, garbage dumps began to mount and were left unintended.

Things in this respect did not improve much when the populist Bhutto regime (PPP) came to power in December 1971. In his book on Bhutto, well-known author Stanley Wolpert wrote that on numerous occasions, Bhutto penned special notes to the Chief Minister of Sindh, Mumtaz Ali Bhutto, lamenting the sanitary conditions of Karachi. He advised him to "make Karachi Paris of Asia" again.

Despite the fact that the Bhutto regime initiated various ‘beautification projects’ in the city, these could not arrest Karachi’s growing sanitation problems.

The aftermath of a right-wing protest movement against the Bhutto regime in 1977 saw many of the city’s areas, streets and roads chocked by overflowing gutters and tall garbage dumps.

Bhutto fell in July 1977, toppled by a reactionary military coup engineered by General Zia-ul-Haq. The 1979 local bodies elections empowered Karachi-based nazims/councilors to revive the city’s creaking sanitation mechanism and garbage collecting system.

But when ethnic riots broke out in 1985, this mechanism broke down again. Things got even worse in the 1990s when ethnic riots, militancy and a crackdown against the MQM left the city paralysed. By the end of the 1990s, the city cut a sorry sight. Karachi it seemed was a city buried underneath a million tons of dump and filth.

Another cleaning

When General Pervez Musharraf came to power (through a military coup) in 1999, he injected millions of rupees to revive Karachi’s economy that had been falling apart.

A lot of this money was also used to kick-start another beautification and cleaning project, mostly initiated through the MQM’s local government in Karachi.

An improvement in the overall economy of the country helped the project to become a success and the gloom and the filth that had had been haunting Karachi for so many years was lifted.

The third outbreak

As a recent report in Dawn explained, "the city’s solid waste problem is assuming crisis proportions." The report continues that "in neighbourhoods across the city — from the enclaves of the elite to the sprawling urban slums — there are mounds of garbage piling up everywhere, with the provincial government and municipal authorities all at sea about how to solve the problem."

Debates over the mounting issue between the city’s two largest political parties — the populist left-liberal Pakistan People’s Party (PPP) which presides over the current provincial government in Sindh, and the liberal-secular Muttahida Qaumi Movement (MQM) which has a history of returning the most Member of National Assembly and Members of Provincial Assembly from Karachi — often degenerates into becoming animated vocal brawls.

The populist centre-right party, Pakistan Thereek-i-Insaf (PTI), which managed to get bag the second largest tally of votes in the city in the 2013 election, seems to have no clue about the rather complex social and political dynamics of the city.

Recently, the celebrated real estate tycoon and philanthropist, Malik Riaz, decided to donate millions of rupees, machinery and manpower to lift the ever-rising mounts of garbage in the city.

The PPP government in Sindh has responded by importing powerful garbage collecting machines from China and signing a Rs2 billion contract with a Chinese company to process waste in the city. The MQM, on the other hand, has attempted to initiate various clean-up campaigns, but the garbage has continued to mount.

Another issue in this context has been the defacing of walls and monuments with ugly graffiti, posters and paan stains. Graffiti and posters are anarchically sprayed and pasted by a host of culprits ranging from political party activists, to religious groups, to quacks and small entrepreneurs.

Party flags are hoisted on electricity poles but then forgotten about till they rot and become ugly, muddy rags dangling from the poles.

Recently, however, the Sindh government initiated a campaign to wipe clean the graffiti, but much still needs to be done to get rid of the decomposing party flags, posters, paan stains and even a plethora of cable TV wires which can be seen dangling from electricity poles that create a problem for the city’s electric supply company, the Karachi Electric.

Unfortunately, the people of this city have only added to the problem. Shopkeepers do not hesitate to throw their litter even in front of their own shops. But many Karachiites say one can hardly find a garbage bin anywhere in the city.

Holi has become one of the well-recognised cultural and religious events across the planet. While the global status it has received might be new, the festival of course has historical significance in South Asia, including what is now Pakistan, where it originated from.

The festival lasts for two days, starting on the Purnima – the day of the full moon – in the month of Phalgun of the Sindhi-Hindu calendar, somewhere between February and March of every year. Holi signifies the victory of good over evil; it also marks the arrival of spring. This year, the date fell on the 12th of March.

Sindh, in particular, sees big Holi celebrations in Pakistan given the important number of Hindus living in the province. The city of Umerkot usually leads from the front, and it was no different this time.

The celebrations lasted an entire week and preparations began days in advance. Shops and businesses closed early so that nobody was late for the festivities.

As I walked through Umerkot’s decorated and well-lit streets, I saw everyone – young and old – dancing and singing. People were throwing gulal (coloured powder) at anyone they could get their hands on, giving the occasion a joyous and vibrant mood. The houses were adorned with rangolies and neighbours shared sweets that they had made at home.

The Pakistani Dandia Group was there to take part in the festival as well. Wearing green shirts and colourful turbans, they played dandia to the beat of the drums. The group has been doing this for several generations and its leader Shagan Lal said to me that these activities are part of their culture and reflect their values.

Umerkot and the Thar desert are known for religious harmony, where Muslims and Hindus participate in each others’ festivals, such as Holi, Diwali, and Eid.

Hundreds of Muslims joined the activities on the first night at the crowded Rama Pir Chowk. I met a Muslim man who had brought along his two sons so that they may learn about Holi and the Hindu community.

He told me that Hindus and Muslims over here always celebrate such festivals without any discrimination and that attending them is always a positive experience. The message was definitely that of harmony and national unity, and scores of Pakistani flags in the crowd were also a sign of that.

I heard community leader Gotam Parkash Bajeer give an address to those gathered. He stressed that this is what freedom of religion looks like: a minority community celebrating its festival openly and freely. He prayed for happiness, peace and love for everyone, which is the message of Holi itself.

Have you taken part in a religious festival and want to share your experience? Tell us about it at blog@dawn.com

All photos by the author.

Pakistani representatives seem to be getting their ankle-length trousers into quite a few unseemly knots these days over unprecedented ‘slights’ against our battle-hardened culture.

Under attack (as it usually is from unseen forces and a stunted perception of the public profile), lawmakers look ready to redeem our social experiment of some 200 million very diverse and very culturally charitable people into a neat little package of pitiable purity.

Punjab’s education minister, Raza Ali Gillani, seems to think it is perfectly agreeable for him to project his questionable intellect onto millions of young women and men by proposing to make the hijab mandatory for young women in Punjab’s colleges.

To further honey trap these youngsters, he rounded off by offering a five percent grace bracket for attendance. I don’t know about you but that sounds like solicitation through suggested sanctimony. In other words, these outward patterns of piety would do well to serve worldly agendas. Hypocrisy much?

Oh, and never mind the fact that it is women who have been tasked with this duplicitous burden of phoney morality. Never mind that once again, it is a man who is gathering up the mantle of her bodily and spiritual regulation, and clogging it with sanctimonious quackery. Never mind that what he just said, he probably is not even free to practice in his home, with his own wife and daughters (keyboard warriors will have a field day with this one), much less the rest of Pakistan’s female populace.

The Punjab government was quick to leave Mr Gillani to his own, unique ‘charm offensive’ by disowning his rationale and rubbishing the claim that any such proposal was made. But the damage was done: this idea became public discourse, it became acceptable to perhaps think about the idea - whether to repel it or recognise it - and to have a conversation about it.

Let’s get one thing clear: there can be no communion on canonised constriction. There can be no debate on allegiance through aggression. There can be no talk about getting a woman to do something because a man has deemed it his higher authority to act as the patriarchal hand of God. No, there can be no conversation but that is what it has become.

News channels are having a field day, Facebook commentators are arguing about the necessity to either follow ‘the path’ or enter the 21st century and, here, we are burning our keyboards in the comments section down below. It’s become ‘a thing’ and all of a sudden it could become very real, very fast.

By lobbing together terms like ‘religion’, ‘ethics’, ‘culture’, and ‘forgetting’ that same culture, the minister did what many men do when they’re looking to gurney a galvanic kind of godliness onto the already impounded shoulders of our women - you know, the kind of thing they do when it becomes all about ‘shame’ and ‘honour’ when they kill them too.

After all, if our women don’t cover up, society as we know it will submerge into Dante’s ninth circle of hell. If they don’t control their flyaway wisps of heathen hair, all of civilisation will condense and collapse. I feel sorry for our boys who grow into young men under the fallacies of these ridiculous notions. Who actually adhere to the absurdity that is on pompous display by the likes of Mr Gillani. Time to end this conversation.

But Facebook, too, it seems, is counterfeiting our culture by forcing us to view 'objectionable' content, by converting our orgies of obedience into peepshows of profanity. Punjab’s home minister is also looking to get social media platforms disallowed instead of disavowing other more trivial things - like terrorists.

Alongside the Islamabad High Court (IHC) lies a petition that seeks to ban blasphemous content online - but there is a danger that the approach might be adopted by irresponsible actors to prosecute cases that may not fall in the realm of blasphemy.

It is fast becoming comfortable convention to seek solace in sanctimony when other more pressing issues are at hand. A revival of bomb attacks in Punjab? An unresolved word, such as the Panama leaks case? It seems that this matter is so critical in determining our national morale that even Interpol will be given a starring role in helping defeat the villain that is social media usage.

Funny how international agencies are seen as interfering and encroaching upon our sovereignty when we face real dangers like bloodied and decapitated bodies freshly squeezed by the simmering melting pot of assorted terror groups and the like.

Funny how culture is never really under attack when bombs and guns go off but always seems to be when people have an avenue for moderate opinion. And that’s what it is really about: moderate, diverging opinion. What really lies at the crux of this canting is the criticism, the demand for action and the displeasure voiced by many Pakistanis within the confines of fast choking online spaces, for that is the only space they have.

Culture, my fellow Pakistanis - we will never shun it nor disremember it but we may be able to evolve it. For ministers and religious extremists, hijabs and religious offence are where culture ceases and despotism develops.

For this motley crew of autocrats and aggressors, the culture that is the domain of every free man and woman becomes a primitive penitentiary for the practice of piety used by politicians and the clergy since time immemorial. That culture gave us wars, bombs and destruction.

Culture, real culture, gave us art, liberty and social standing. You choose. Which culture do you want to call your own?

When I was eight, I heard about a three-year-old who fell in a water tank and drowned. The news shattered mothers in the small community we lived in. My own mother told me to be more vigilant of myself and my younger sibling.

It was then that I first contemplated suicide. I didn't know much about suicidal ideation, but I did understand that just by falling into a tank full of water, I could end my life and make it all look like an accident. Nothing had sounded more pleasing. My body would drown in the water along with the mental and physical pain I had been suffering but could never explain. To me, it felt like I possessed the power to switch it all off.

I never went through with it.

Maybe it was my grandmother’s little anecdotes about how badly parents coped with the loss of a child. I felt I had to wait till my sister was a little older so that losing me might not be as big of a trauma for my parents.

As I recall these stories, I don't feel ashamed. I know people who equate willingness to take one’s own life with cowardice. For them, I can only say that nothing could be farther from the truth.

Suicidal ideation is real. Shaming people by calling them cowards will not stop them from taking their own lives. Instead, for many, including myself, these notions of ‘cowardice’ and ‘get over it’ are just another example of stubborn ignorance toward mental health issues.

I've had chronic depression and Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) before I knew what these terms meant. I only saw signs of them around me: I saw them in my behaviour towards people and I saw it being triggered by other people's behaviour towards me.

There was a time when I was so afraid of other people’s reactions that I would constantly recheck my own work to make sure I hadn't 'messed up', even if this was something I had done over and over again. Any bit of appreciation or acknowledgement meant more to me than it would to someone who was not constantly battling a crippling sense of failure.

I never shared what I was going through with colleagues or friends because I feared that would put them under undue pressure. I worried they'd have to tailor their lives around my triggers and needs, and that they'd never be able to share their issues with me because somehow, mine will always be bigger than theirs. I just didn't want to cause inconvenience.

How do you tell someone you love that when they're being controlling they reduce you to the six-year-old who was told that no matter how hard she screamed, no matter whom she would tell, no one would be able to hear or acknowledge her? Not even her own mother. You can't inflict that upon someone. I can't.

I couldn't even bring myself to tell the people closest to me, who knew I struggled with depression, to be just a little more mindful and look for apparent signs of distress. I felt that it was too much to ask for. Inconvenience again.

Instead, I focused on making sure that those around me knew that they were appreciated when they did something well or when they accomplished something they had been wanting to do. It gave me a sense of purpose so to speak, but it quickly became my only sense of purpose. It drained me, made me feel worse and made me feel that I was being taken for granted.

My depression led me to believe I could only be someone's friend if I was constantly giving, regardless of how I felt. The only way I could be accepted anywhere was if I had a role that meant I had to take in everything and fix it.

My depression falsely convinced me that most people I met thought I was worthless and that all my achievements in life were by fluke. Each award or recognition invited more and more pressure. I felt that I didn't deserve success and that I had to keep proving myself even more to earn respect. So, I saw myself performing to accommodate people's needs at times, even if it disrupted my own life’s rhythm and comfort.

During one particular trip with colleagues and friends, I spent the entire week being someone else entirely. Someone who had to strike a conversation the minute she got into a cab, someone who had to make an observation about a new bike on the road or a technology around the corner. None of it was brought on by anyone but myself and the need to perform to mask my own suffering.

Unfortunately, for me it is a cocktail of things - having PTSD means being stuck in an audio-visual about the most traumatic incidents of one’s life where these incidents playback at will.

Imagine sitting at a table with a dozen people around you, waiting for you to answer a question but all you can think in your head is an image of you being pinned down in a murky hallway as you struggle to breath.

Imagine being at your own wedding and having an image of hurriedly washing your blood-stained legs at age six.

Imagine that while writing this piece, you could hear your abuser say: "no one wants to hear from you." Imagine that and hope you never have to live it.

It's difficult for me to articulate how I feel at times because despite my illness, I also consider myself a functional human being who has work, friends and family to deal with.

For as long as I can remember, I felt that writing about my own experiences would hurt other people. Maybe they'll think that I'm calling them out on their insensitivity and that I'm asking for an easy pass.

But if there's anything I've learnt through this deep, annihilating pain is that every time you stop yourself from setting boundaries, from telling people that you are suffering, from rearranging parts of your life to better navigate your illness, you're pushing yourself further into the abyss. That your demons are winning when you choose not to stand up for yourself because you fear you'd hurt others.

To anyone who is suffering, I want you to know that you're not alone, you're not an inconvenience to anyone and that you can't and will not just get over it. You have the right to stand up for yourself. Those who love you for who you are will understand and help you navigate the trenches.

The problem are the people who are willingly insensitive, who choose not to be vigilant, who have no time to give compassion, and who judge you without ever sparing a minute to ask how you feel.

Rather than lecturing people about wishing away suicide or depression, spare a moment to listen, empathise and act. Someone who appears to have their life together may still be trapped in their eight-year-old self, contemplating a decision they won't live to regret.

Are you suffering from a mental illness or working as a counsellor to help people overcome it? Share your story with us at blog@dawn.com

For most parents, the day their first child is born is a special moment. It is the day that marks the start of a journey full of promises, dreams, and expectations. Parents hope that their newborn will be the perfect child, destined to achieve great and beautiful things in life, so that they may hold their head high and beam with pride.

The day my first child – a daughter, Alaiyah – was born was a defining moment for me too, but not for the reasons stated above. A few minutes after the delivery, I was told that she has Down Syndrome. All the dreams and expectations of the 'perfect' child disappeared into thin air.

It couldn’t be true. Why did this happen to us? How will I ever cope with a child who has an intellectual disability? A child who will always be dependent, whom people will make fun of, who will never be able to marry and have children of her own. Will I ever be strong enough to love her despite all the limitations that she will have?

Fast forward six years and I know now that many of my initial fears and doubts were unfounded. They were a result of taboos and stereotypes associated with intellectual disabilities.

Will Alaiyah grow up and be independent enough to go to college or university? Probably. Will she be able to work and make a living? Will she fall in love and get married one day? Possibly. Am I strong enough to love her despite all the challenges that come with having a child with extra needs? Absolutely. She makes that last bit a piece of cake.

Alaiyah, along with a few other people with Down Syndrome, was the inspiration behind the Karachi Down Syndrome Program (KDSP), a non-profit organisation set up by a group of parents and individuals who strive to create a world where everyone with Down syndrome is accepted, included, and welcomed as valued members of society.

There was absence of support that I felt deeply when my daughter was born. KDSP strives to fill that vacuum; it is a place where anyone affected by Down Syndrome – parents, siblings, friends, and individuals with Down Syndrome themselves – can come and be part of a community that advocates for inclusion in mainstream society and assists those affected through medical interventions, education, vocational training, etc.

KDSP runs awareness campaigns every year to mark the World Down Syndrome Day on March 21st. The goal is to normalise differences. There is such a dire need for more acceptance for people who have extra needs.

It is tough enough to deal with the practical challenges of having a family member who needs extra attention, but the stereotypes and biases in our own minds, the pressures of society, and the emotional exhaustion that comes with it are the most draining of all.

It is important to know what acceptance should entail. It, in no way, refers to feeling pity or sympathy towards people with Down Syndrome, since that is disempowering.

At KDSP, when new families come to us, we tell them how magical their child's extra chromosome is and how the child will change their lives for the better. There is a lot of truth to that, but at the same time, the process of arriving at that better life is a difficult challenge.

Families have to grapple with all sorts of negative emotions: hopelessness, envy, disappointment, embarrassment. We tell them that instead of being bitter, they should look at the matter from a different perspective – they should look at life through the eyes of their child.

Children with Down Syndrome have no inhibitions when it comes to showing love. They greet each new day with such joy and enthusiasm. They empathise. They have no hidden agendas. They are pure. And they are experts at teaching us how to seek out happiness from the small things in life, only if we look hard enough. I may be Alaiyah’s mama, but she has been my greatest teacher.

People often tell us that we have done a great thing by setting up KDSP, but the truth is that it has been the other way round. It is difficult to put into words how much KDSP has given back to us. Personally, it has had a huge role in providing me with the opportunity to heal and grow. It has given my life a purpose.

When parents of young kids come to KDSP and interact with older kids, I can see the parents sizing them up. I can sense them assessing whether or not they will be able to cope if their child grows up to be like the grown ups with Down Syndrome who are in front of them. I know this because I have been there myself. I know their fears and doubts. We are all human, after all.

I would ask myself whether I would feel resentful if my daughter tagged along with me every time I went out with my friends because she would have no friends of her own. I feel guilty for even thinking this way about my own child. I would ask if it would be too much for me to have her talk in front of others in slurry, slow speech and for others to slight her for it. I have assessed and I have fretted. And I have gotten over it.

She is who she is and what will be, will be. And she, along with her little sister, are my loves, my life, my pride and joy. And in the bigger picture, absolutely nothing else matters.

Are you suffering from a disability? Are you a family member, friend, or counsellor who is helping someone to cope with it? Tell us about it at blog@dawn.com

The first resolve: Head of the All India Muslim League (AIML), Muhammad Ali Jinnah, speaking to party members in Lahore on March 23, 1940. Jinnah was presiding a party session in which the AIML passed a resolution that demanded the creation of separate federations based on Muslim-majority regions in British India. Jinnah resolved to achieve such an arrangement because, he explained, Muslims as a cultural and political polity were distinct from India’s Hindu majority.

A new resolve: Jinnah became Pakistan’s first Governor General in August, 1947. Here he can be seen delivering his first address to Pakistan’s Constituent Assembly. In his address, he resolved to make Pakistan a modern Muslim-majority country where Muslims could advance their economic and cultural aspirations but where communities of all faiths would be facilitated and protected. He said all will be equal citizens in the eyes of the state "because the state has nothing to do with one’s personal religious beliefs."

To demonstrate his resolve of creating a multicultural and pluralistic Muslim-majority country, Jinnah asked the government’s Hindu minister, JN Mandal, to chair the first session of Pakistan’s Constituent Assembly.

From August, 1947 till September, 1948 Pakistan and India shared the same currency notes. Pakistan had emerged as an independent domain of the British Crown, which is why the notes had King George VI’s image on them.

Another resolve: Pakistan’s first prime minister, Liaquat Ali Khan, speaking at the Constituent Assembly in 1949. He was reading out an Objectives Resolution drafted some months after Jinnah’s demise in 1948. The PM announced that Pakistan’s future transformation as a republic and Constitution was to be ‘Islamic.’ The government’s non-Muslim members accused the PM of deviating from Jinnah’s original resolve. But he insisted that the country’s non-Muslim communities need not worry because the future Constitution will be democratic and will safeguard the rights of minorities.

A 1949 Pakistan Railways poster. It was part of the government’s initiative to instil in the people the fact that the Pakistan state had meagre resources.

Between 1950 and 1952, Pakistan’s economy enjoyed a sudden boom when the demand for its agricultural goods grew in the US due to America's war in Korea. As this 1952 article on Karachi in the National Geographic states, Karachi became a boom town because most of the goods were being exported from the city’s port.

The economic boom saw the emergence of Pakistan’s first-ever five-star hotel. It was built in 1951 in Karachi and was called Hotel Metropole.

Angered by the government’s ‘slowness’ to implement the ‘Islamic’ aspects of the Objectives Resolution, religious parties Jamat-i-Islami and Majlis-e-Ahrar used economic turmoil in the Punjab province to launch a violent anti-Ahmadiyya movement. Controversial Punjab chief minister, Mumtaz Daultana, is often accused of 'facilitating' the agitation. The movement was demanding the ouster of the Ahamdiyya from the fold of Islam. Dozens were killed and property belonging to the Ahmadiyya was set on fire. The government called in the military which crushed the movement. The demand of the religious parties was rejected.

During the anti-Ahmadiyya movement, the government and the military distributed a pamphlet authored by Islamic scholar Khalifa Hakim, titled Islam Aur Mullah (Islam and the Mullah). In it, Hakim paraphrased poet and philosopher Muhammad Iqbal’s views on clerics to emphasise that the religious parties were at odds with Jinnah's and Iqbal’s ideas about Islam. The pamphlet was distributed across the Punjab province.

Meanwhile, in the Bengali-dominated East Pakistan, agitation against the imposition of Urdu as the only national language continued. In 1954, after the Muslim League badly lost an election in East Pakistan, Bengali was declared as the country’s second national language. DAWN ran a scathing front-page report on the League’s debacle in East Pakistan at the hands of the United Front.

A Constitutional resolve: In 1956, the Constituent Assembly finally passed the country’s first Constitution. The Constitution declared Pakistan as a republic. The Constitution resolved to turn Pakistan into a parliamentary democracy and an Islamic Republic. It was also decided to celebrate 23rd March as Pakistan Day. The picture shows the indirectly-elected members of the centrist Muslim League, the secular centre-right Republican Party, the leftist National Awami Party, and the right-wing Jamat-e-Islami debating the Constitution.

A cartoon in the Pakistan Times satirises assembly members who had agreed to call Pakistan an Islamic Republic.

The first-ever Pakistan Day parade being held in Karachi on 23rd March, 1956.

The resolve dismissed: President Iskandar Mirza (Republican Party) with the chiefs of Pakistan’s armed forces soon after declaring Pakistan’s first martial law in 1958. The country’s economy had nosedived, there was a spike in incidents of crime and corruption, and constant squabbling between politicians and bureaucrats. Mirza and General Ayub, who had engineered the coup suspended the 1956 Constitution, terming it a way for the politicians "to peddle Islam to meet their cynical political ambitions." Pakistan’s name was changed back to the Republic of Pakistan.

Ayub’s resolve: Ayub, after ousting Mirza, became Pakistan’s president and field marshal in 1959. He resolved to run Pakistan "according to Jinnah’s original vision," which to him meant a robust economy based on rapid industrialisation; a political system which was "more suited to the social realities of Pakistan’s polity" and overseen by a powerful army; and a social ethos constructed through a fusion of ‘Muslim modernism’, widespread education and free-market-enterprise.

Economic growth rose to 6% and manufacturing growth to 8.51% during the Ayub regime’s first six years. New factories and buildings began to emerge. The manufacturing percentage at the time was one of the highest in Asia. Introduction of modern technology, better seeds and fertiliser brought forth a ‘green revolution’ in the agriculture sector.

Students with a lecturer at a college in Lahore in 1962. The economic boom also saw a growth in student enrolment in colleges and universities. There was also an increase in the number of female students.

A 1963 stamp which explained Ayub’s takeover as an economic revolution.

The Minar-e-Pakistan began being built in the early 1960s on the spot in Lahore where the 1940 Resolution was passed.

Passengers being served champagne on a PIA flight in 1966. PIA, launched in 1955, began its meteoric rise as one of the world’s leading airlines in the mid-1960s. It held this position till the early-1980s.

Karachi became the entertainment centre of the country.

A group of Pakistan Air Force pilots during the 1965 Pakistan-India War. The Pakistan Air Force rose to become one of the best and would go on to train fighter pilots in various Middle Eastern countries.

The entrance of Lahore’s historic Badshahi Mosque being renovated in 1967.

The country’s new capital city emerged in 1967. Initially it was supposed to be called Jinnahpur but the government settled for the name Islamabad.

The end: The 1965 war with India badly impacted the economy. A declining economy laid bare the growing gaps between the haves and have-nots. In the late 1960s, a violent movement against the Ayub regime swept the country, denouncing his crony capitalism. Rightists wanted an end to Ayub’s ‘secular regime’ whereas the leftists wanted a socialist setup. Ayub resigned in March, 1969 and handed over power to General Yahya Khan.

Yahya’s resolve, 1969: General Yahya Khan resolved to make Pakistan a parliamentary democracy. He abolished the 1962 Constitution and asked the opposition parties to start work on a new Constitution. For this, he agreed to hold the country’s first-ever elections based on adult franchise.

In 1970 Yahya fulfilled his resolve. Pakistan held its first parliamentary elections based on adult franchise. The Bengali nationalist party, the Awami League, swept the elections in East Pakistan; ZA Bhutto’s populist Pakistan People’s Party won in West Pakistan’s two largest provinces, Punjab and Sindh; the leftist National Awami Party won majorities in NWFP and Balochistan. The religious parties, apart from JUI, were routed.

In 1970, Runa Laila rose to become Pakistan’s first modern pop star.

ZA Bhutto arrives to take over from Yahya in December 1971. The election had set the scene for parliamentary democracy. But the results brought forth the simmering tensions and mistrust between Bengali nationalists in East Pakistan and the West Pakistan ‘establishment.’ A civil war in East Pakistan and then a conflict with India saw East Pakistan breakaway and become Bangladesh. Yahya resigned and handed over power to Bhutto, whose party had won a majority in West Pakistan.

Bhutto’s resolve: During his first address to the nation, Bhutto resolved to "pick up the pieces" and construct "a new Pakistan" which was "dynamic and progressive." He planned to do this by introducing land reforms, reforms in the military and the bureaucracy, and by introducing socialist policies to make the economy ‘people-friendly.’

Bhutto’s ‘socialist’ Jinnah: Bhutto nationalised major industries, claiming he was following Jinnah’s ideas, as this 1973 press ad shows.

A new Constitutional resolve: In 1973, Bhutto managed to conjure a consensus between his ruling party and the opposition in the National Assembly on the contents of a new Constitution. The Constitution was passed and it reintroduced Pakistan as an Islamic Republic and a parliamentary democracy. The photo shows Bhutto announcing the passage of the Constitution at a rally.

Pakistani film actor Waheed Murad, an unknown guest, and TV actress Saira Kazmi at an art exhibition in 1974. Pakistani film and TV entered their golden age during the Bhutto regime.

In 1974, the ‘Ahmadiyya question’ returned to haunt Pakistan. After a clash between Ahmadiyya youth and members of Jamat-i-Islami’s (JI) student-wing in Rabwah, the JI started a fresh movement to oust the Ahmadiyya from Islam. Bhutto rejected the demand and threatened to use the military against the rioters. Bhutto insisted that the parliament was no place for religious debates. The JI responded by saying that it was because the Constitution had declared Pakistan an Islamic Republic. When the violence intensified and some members of the PPP in the Punjab Assembly too began siding with the demand, Bhutto allowed an anti-Ahmadiyya bill to be tabled in the parliament. The Constitution was amended and the Ahmadiyya were declared non-Muslim.

Bhutto had also resolved to make a ‘third block’ to challenge the 'hegemony' of the Soviet Union and the US. The block was to comprise Muslim countries. For this, Bhutto held a conference in 1974 in Lahore in which heads of states and governments from almost all Muslim countries were invited.

Tourists enjoy a tanga ride outside a hotel in Rawalpindi in 1975. Tourism saw a manifold growth in Pakistan in the 1970s. The government expanded the tourism department and promoted three main types of tourisms: 1) Archeological/Historical Tourism which included trips to ancient sites in Mohenjo-Daro, Lahore, Multan, and Taxila; 2) Nature Tourism which included trips to the northern areas of Pakistan (Swat, Gilgit, and Chitral); and 3) Recreational Tourism which mainly included nightclubs, bars, and beaches of Karachi.

A fleet of PIA planes at the Karachi airport in 1976. In the 1970s, the Karachi airport became one of the busiest in the region and was dubbed the "gateway to Asia."

A hotel in Karachi illuminated during the new year’s eve of 1976.

Another end: Bhutto sitting with party members and his new military chief, Zia-ul-Haq (third from left). Due to an international oil crisis and the Bhutto regime’s haphazard economic policies, turmoil was brewing in the country, especially among the middle and lower middle-classes. Bhutto’s authoritarian attitude had already alienated him from his erstwhile leftist allies. In March, 1977 religious parties began an anti-government movement. The movement demanded Shariah law and removal of the regime. Bhutto closed down nightclubs, banned the sale of alcohol (to Muslims) and promised to reverse his ‘socialist policies.’ But in July ,1977 Zia toppled him in a military coup.

Zia’s resolve: During his first address to the nation in July, 1977 General Zia resolved to turn Pakistan into an ‘Islamic state’ and introduce ‘Islamic’ laws.

Petty criminals, ‘troublesome’ journalists and radical students were regularly flogged in public.

When in 1979 the Soviet Union invaded Afghanistan, the US and Saudi Arabia began to aid the Zia regime by pouring arms and money to facilitate a ‘jihad’ against the Soviets from Pakistan’s northern areas. Here, a Pakistani Pashtun declares war against the Soviets in the tribal areas of Pakistan.

1981: Unprecedented aid from the US and Saudi Arabia and the Zia regime’s pro-business policies helped Pakistan enjoy an economic boom in the early 1980s.

Pakistan hockey reached the pinnacle of its prowess when Pakistan won the 1982 world cup. This was Pakistan’s third world cup title. It will win it one more time before dramatically declining as a hockey power.

Students protest against the death of a colleague who was crushed under the wheels of a public bus in Karachi in 1985. This gave birth to vicious ethnic riots in the city. Karachi had begun to boil over due to ethnic tensions, a rising crime rate, and drug and gun mafias.

When the Zia regime began to empower extreme clerics to boost the ‘jihad’ in Afghanistan, violent sectarian organisations sprang up. By the late 1980s, sectarian violence spread across the Punjab.

When an alleged bomb went off on a plane carrying Zia in 1988, democracy returned to Pakistan. Benazir Bhutto’s PPP won the 1988 election.

Zia’s demise saw a local pop music explosion which lasted across the 1990s

Benazir’s resolve: Benazir Bhutto taking oath in 1988. She resolved to make Pakistan a democracy again and reverse Zia’s ‘reactionary policies.’ But when American aid vanished after the Soviets left Afghanistan, she did not inherit the 1980s economic boom. But she did receive Zia’s other legacies such as institutional corruption, drug mafias, and sectarian and ethnic violence. Coupled with her own government’s utter incompetence, her first term was a disaster. She would be reelected in 1993 to fall yet again in 1996.

Nawaz’s resolve: Nawaz Sharif taking oath in 1990. His Pakistan Muslim League came to power after the 1990 elections. He resolved to "rekindle Zia’s mission" and not let the PPP "derail Zia’s Islamization." He also promised pro-business policies. Unable to check an economy and polity spiraling out of control, he too fell. In 1997 he was reelected to fall again in 1999.

But as the country struggled to come to terms with things such as sectarian and ethnic violence, corruption, and a sliding economy, its cricket team won the 1992 world cup.

Yet another end: Soldiers climb the gates of PTV during the General Parvez Musharrf coup in 1999. He toppled the second Nawaz regime.

Musharraf’s resolve: Musharraf resolved to put Pakistan on the path which Jinnah had envisioned. To achieve this, he said he will use a doctrine called ‘enlightened moderation.’ This doctrine was actually an updated version of Ayub Khan’s fusion of Muslim modernism, free-market enterprise and a controlled democracy overseen by the military. Musharraf banned various sectarian and extremist organisations, eased ties with India, exiled Nawaz and Benazir and became an ally in America’s War on Terror.

In its first six years, the Musharraf regime remained largely popular. Crime, sectarian and ethnic violence decreased, the economy picked up and the urban middle-class expanded. Cities became boom towns. A revival of Pakistani cinema started to take shape as well.

The bubble bursts: In 2007, the lawyers’ movement began sweeping the country against the regime. The economy had begun to recede and Al-Qaeda increased its attacks on Pakistani soil. The weakening regime’s half-baked measures could not stem the radicalisation of the society. The same year, Benazir was assassinated by extremists and Musharraf seemed to have lost control. He was forced to resign after the PPP and PML-N won the 2008 elections.

More chaos: Extremist terror and mindset gripped the country during the new PPP government. The regime seemed all at sea, plagued by incompetence, corruption, assassinations, political intrigues and a military establishment busy playing mind games with politicians. By 2013, the country stood isolated and wrecked.

A new resolve: When Nawaz Sharif was elected prime minster for the third time, his government seemed paralysed as Pakistan continued to plunge into an abyss. Then, the tragic deaths of school children in an extremist terror attack in 2014 galvanised the government and the new military chief Raheel Sharif to actually reverse political and military policies of the last many years.

The government, military and opposition parties got together and through a joint-resolution, gave the green light to a widespread military operation against extremist and sectarian groups, and also initiate a National Action Plan (NAP) to introduce reforms which would reverse the mindset that facilitates radicalisation and extremism in society. By 2016, the percentage of terror attacks and crime had appreciably lessened. The struggle continues to finally construct Jinnah’s Pakistan.

I distinctly remember the photograph I saw of a child in a stone hut in the Broghil valley, close to the Afghanistan-Pakistan border. She had the most striking eyes and was wearing a traditional dress that was gleaming underneath a beam of what seemed like a mystic light piercing through an opening above – a prominent feature of Pamiri houses. The image made it my dream to visit and photograph the place and its people.

While researching, I came to learn that there was a British era trade corridor, called the Wakhan Corridor, which led to Broghil. The corridor borders Afghanistan and stretches through Pakistan, Tajikistan, and China. A fellow trekker and I made a plan to go discover this region.

From lush green plains to gigantic lakes to snow capped passes, Broghil has some of the most unique and varied landscapes I have ever seen. Even the weather changes frequently from snowfall to dust storms.

Also read: Deosai Plains: Welcome to surreal Pakistan

Most of the Pamiri houses today are modern and made with wood but in Broghil, they are made of mud and stone. All of this combined with the incredible hospitality of the locals meant that I fell in love with the place right away.

There are two ways to get there: you can either go from Khyber Pakhtunkhwa or from Gilgit-Baltistan. It is the same passage with two different entry points. Most tourists trek from Ishkomun in Gilgit-Baltistan to visit the famous Karomber lake. Otherwise, the area remains largely unexplored.

Accessing Broghil is no easy feat. We first attempted to go in 2014 from the Gilgit side; however, when we were on the way, there was a terrorist attack on the Karachi airport.

As a retaliatory measure, there was an army operation in close proximity to where we were travelling. Out of concern for our safety, the locals of Immit village did not let us through, so we had to abort the plan and trek elsewhere.

A year later in June, 2015 we decided to try again. This time, we entered from Chitral and luck was on our side. From Chitral, we took a jeep to Mastuj and continued our journey to Ishkarwaz over an incredibly difficult terrain.

Also read: Chitral: Bringing Kalash back home

It was a miracle that we actually reached Ishkarwaz. I was amazed how our driver was able to reverse the jeep downhill whenever it got stuck at a turn. The map on our phones showed that we were approaching a river.

To our surprise, the driver kept going without stopping or slowing down, as though he was taking us into the water. At the last minute, he took a sharp turn onto the rugged mountains, which led to a narrow road that took us to Ishkarwaz.

We started the actual trek in Ishkarwaz. Since it is a border area close to Afghanistan, military soldiers posted at the checkpost noted down our IDs and we were on our way – but not before we played a game of cricket with them!

Our first destination was Karomber lake. To get there, we first trekked from Ishkarwaz to Lashkargaz, where the Broghil valley officially begins. That whole stretch of land is majestic and extraordinarily beautiful, but it was particularly Lashkargaz that caught my eye.

In the evening, half the sky would be dark blue while the other half would be golden. At night, I could see the Milky Way in its full glory and endless shooting stars. And there were so many expansive and clear lakes that it made me wonder if I had already reached Karomber lake!

Also read: A rendezvous with Saif-ul-Malook

The trek would take up to six hours everyday, sometimes even ten, depending on our speed and weather. We were accompanied on our journey by local Wakhi men. Some were our guides, while others were porters to help us carry our equipment.

I was accompanied by a local villager, Sultan. I told him that I wanted to photograph the men, women, and children of the area. He was enthusiastic and immediately agreed to act as my translator. With Sultan’s help, I finally got the chance to interact and bond with the Wakhi community and take portraits.

After camping at Lashkargaz, we continued on to Karomber lake. But because of snowfall and strong winds coming from Afghanistan, we had to set up camp halfway. We called it Karomber high camp. The next morning, we woke up to see our tents covered in snow.

When we reached Karomber Lake, we realised that we had gone too early in the season – the lake was frozen. But it was still an incredible sight! As is traditional with teams when they reach their destination, a call to prayer was recited and the national anthem was sung. We stayed for half an hour and then trekked back to Lashkargaz, where I made the most of my time by doing more photography.

The next day, we trekked back to Ishkarwaz, where we rested for an hour, before going on to the last leg of our tour to the Darkot pass.

On the way, we stayed overnight in Chikar village. While setting up camp, a little girl with blonde hair wearing a traditional Wakhi dress kept following me everywhere. Her name was Shabnam.

Since we did not have to leave until noon the next day, I slept in for most of the morning. I was woken up by someone knocking on my tent. I got up and looked out: it was Shabnam. She did not say anything, but pointed to a large field where a group of people were present and motioned me to follow her.

Once we reached, I saw four of our team members playing football with the locals – a strong 11 against four very tired men. I was very sore from all the walking, but they insisted I take the centre-forward position. We lost miserably.

I had fallen in love with Chikar and it was an emotional farewell when we left around noon.

Very soon, we could see the Darkot pass at a distance. We huddled together and discussed how far we could go. The idea was to get as close to the pass as possible. When we reached, we set up camp on a small, rocky patch. Everything else was covered in ice.

Water was the biggest issue at this time. The place where we were was barren and there was no water except for a waterfall very high up and nearly impossible to reach, and a melting glacier which was miles below us.

One of our porters volunteered to make the perilous climb down to the glacier with a container to fill it up with water. However, he slipped on the first step, but was thankfully saved as he grabbed a ledge and was roped back up by our team. The container slipped and broke.

Also read: Karakoram's unsung heroes

Another team member Abdul was an experienced climber and mountaineer. Without saying a word, he took another container, tied a rope around it, and climbed a steep path to reach the waterfall.

He filled up the container and rolled it down to the camp, using the rope to break its fall. Clearly, he had nerves of steel as a task like this would have taken anyone else hours! We slept after dinner at sundown so that we would be ready to make the final trek through the deadly Darkot pass.

We woke up and ate breakfast at 2:30am and left by 3am in order to avoid the harsh sun and the melting snow. We were all roped together so that we don’t fall into crevices. The ascent to the pass was difficult because of the lack of oxygen and slippery snow. By the time the sun had risen, the snow was reflecting the sunlight onto our faces and burning our eyes.

One by one, all of us reached the pass. As we looked down, we could make out the lush green of the Darkot village, but we were so high up that it seemed like we were looking at it from a satellite. We could even see clouds far down below under us.

The descent was a near-impossible task. It was an 85-degree decline, full of melting snow and loose rocks. One wrong step would cause a rock to fall on the person below you. Slip, you fall into a crevice.

After eight hours, we all made it back. We regrouped, caught our breath, and counted our blessings for having come back in one piece. We camped for one more night at Darkot village and grabbed a bus back from there the next morning to Gilgit.

Also read: Hunza valley: A whole new spectrum of colours

My team and I trekked through this region for almost 10 days. We were so awestruck that we decided to revisit the next summer, from the end of July, 2016 till the first week of August. We went later in the season this time since we wanted to see the Karomber lake in its unfrozen form.

Visiting for the second time was even more fruitful as some locals recognised me from my previous trip. I had prints of the portraits I had taken of them during my last visit. I had also learnt a little bit of Wakhi, which allowed me to communicate better.

Their hospitality is such that if you pass a village during a trek, you would be stopped and given salted tea, dildongi (flatbread) and dral (sweet dish similar to pancake).

The route we took was a little different this time as there was a lot of landsliding on the way, making the main road to Ishkarwaz inaccessible. Our coaster dropped us at Kashmanja, which is about five hours away from Ishkarwaz.

Since we were behind by one day, we had to expedite our trek by making less stops and without setting up camp on the way to Karomber lake.

Something happened the night we reached the lake that I could never have imagined in my wildest dreams. It took me 12 long hours to trek to the lake. Everyone else was already very far ahead or had reached.

I was moving slower than usual, since I was feeling sick after drinking water from an unhygienic stream. My friend Zafar alongside me was not feeling well that day either. To add to this, I was carrying extra weight in a bag that did not have waist support.

I had to stop and rest every few minutes. I was so behind that night had already fallen, the temperature had dropped, and strong winds had started.

The porter who was carrying my warm clothes had already reached the destination, which was still a few hours away. I only had a full-sleeve shirt and a raincoat to keep me warm, which obviously was not enough. Then suddenly, my torch stopped working. Zafar had also gone out of my sight. Everything was a recipe for disaster!

Just when I felt things couldn’t get any worse, it started raining. There were hardly any trees on this path, which meant no shelter. My breath started growing shorter and I went into a cycle of unconscious – falling, coming round, getting up, and continuing my trek.

The cycle continued for hours and seemed like an eternity to me. My entire life flashed before my eyes and a part of me told me it may be my time. I found a large rock and, with great difficulty, snuggled next to it, covered myself with my raincoat, and prayed.

I was going to either die, or be rescued if I were lucky. I closed my eyes but after a few minutes, I opened my eyes and I got up immediately. It felt as if my body was doing this all by itself and I had no control over it.

Before I knew it, I started running in the dark, jumping over streams and sharp rocks and not slipping even once. There was a voice inside my head that kept telling me to keep going. It felt like somebody was carrying me.

I eventually ran into another person who was also trying to find his way. It turned out to be Zafar. We stuck to each other to keep warm and prayed for our lives.

The voice inside me told me to keep looking south. After a few minutes, a torch frantically shone from the same direction. It was Zeeshan, one of the climbers. He ran to us and rescued us. It was a moment that I will never forget.

I did not see the lake until the next morning. As expected, it had fortunately thawed, so we got to witness it in its most majestic form. It looked so infinite in size and reflected so many colours.

Truly, journeying across this region was nothing short of epic (given its history and that Genghis Khan is said to have set foot on the same route) and life changing.

Similar to our route the year before, we passed through the Chikar village and I met everyone again. They were happy to see the prints of their photos and were incredibly hospitable as always.

This time, I took the liberty of going into one of their houses. Inside, I saw a child with mystic light shining on her through an opening in the roof. It was a similar image that had inspired me to explore this area in the first place.

All photos and video by the author.

Have you explored any off-the-beaten tracks across the world? Share your journey with us at blog@dawn.com

Mobeen Ansari is a photojournalist, painter and sculptor based in Islamabad. A graduate of National College of Arts in Rawalpindi, his mission is to promote a positive and often unseen side of Pakistan through his photographs.

By Hafsa Adil

This article was originally published on November 14, 2014.

Despite the locks and the looks, Aaqib Javed was never the quintessential Pakistani fast bowler. Drafted into a team boasting Wasim Akram, Waqar Younis and captain Imran Khan, he was the man with a thankless job – keeping one end tidy with his fast-medium bowling in order for the Ws to attack from the other. It was with this brief that he landed Down Under with the Pakistan side but left the continent with his life and, indeed, career turned upside down.

After several coaching stints with the Pakistan Cricket Board, Aaqib has now settled into the role of head coach of the United Arab Emirates side, whom he will soon lead to their second ICC World Cup – once again – to Australia and New Zealand. This past Tuesday, as he waited for his part-time cricket team to arrive at the ICC Global Academy grounds in Dubai, Dawn.com caught up with him to deliberate on Pakistan’s chances at the upcoming tournament and for a time-travelling session back to the 1992 World Cup.

Hafsa Adil: Take us back to the time when the squad left for the World Cup. What were the expectations like?

Aaqib Javed: Leaving Pakistan, we were actually quite confident. With a bowling attack comprising Wasim, Waqar, Mushi (Mushtaq Ahmed), me and Imran and batsmen such as Miandad (Javed), Malik (Salim), Aamir (Sohail) – we weren’t feeling too bad.

We reached Australia two weeks before the tournament and put in a great deal of work in our preparations. But just as the tournament was about to get underway, we lost Waqar to injury. When your entire bowling composition is disturbed, it is a major setback. We didn’t know who our third bowler would be. Our seam bowling options suddenly became very limited and when you are in Australia and New Zealand, it is very difficult to compete with just two seamers in the side.

During the first few matches, our concerns were translated into results as playing with two seam bowlers cost us. As the tournament progressed, based on our results, the players began to lose hope of making it to the second round. Slowly, we could see it slipping away from us.

HA: How did it change, then?

AJ: What do they say about fate? That when you’re destined to achieve something, luck favours you. It was after the match against England (which was washed out, resulting in a draw) that our negative frame of mind slowly began to turn around.

We thought, “if we have survived even after the worst of performances (Pakistan were bowled out for 74), maybe we can make it forward if we win the rest of our group matches.”

We then went to Perth for our match against Australia. It was almost impossible for an Asian side to beat Australia at Perth but that was our day. Just before the match, Imran came into the dressing room, spoke for about 20 minutes and turned our psyche around for the rest of the tournament.

He instilled a belief in us. He had this unique quality, a quality that every leader must have: to make people believe in what he is saying.

Personally, whatever cricket I had played before that match or after it, nothing could ever match those three-and-a-half hours. The mental state I was in, I had never experienced it before and never did after.

I can’t describe that feeling. It was...I knew it was our day. I was restless, couldn’t wait for the match to begin. I thought “aaj koi nahin rok sakta mujhe (no one can stop me today)”. I took three slips because I knew I was going to be on the mark. It was the same for everyone else. (Pakistan beat Australia by 48 runs in that match)

We played New Zealand next. They were unbeaten and one of the favourites for the tournament, but still no match for our confidence. Perth was the turning point – we didn’t know what had hit us (humain pata hee nahin chala kay humain hua kya hai). The momentum was such that it took all the pressure off us. Even before the final, we felt zero pressure. We knew only we could win the tournament.

It was the perfect exhibition of how a positive mind-set can change your fortunes overnight. After winning that match we knew – we didn’t expect or hope – we just knew that we’d reach the next round.

So going back to those 20 minutes, that’s when he switched our minds around. Those 20 minutes were the reason we won the World Cup.

HA: The great cricket writer Osman Samiuddin often uses the term “haal” while describing this Pakistani momentum that you keep mentioning. Is there really such a thing as “haal” in cricket?

AJ: See, when you’re playing a team game it is very difficult to have all the players come together to play as one entity and think alike. Even with the best of teams, when they lose they have a side where four players are going in pushing forward and the rest backwards. So in such situations, you need one person to rise, gather everyone, align them in one direction and push them forward.

Even without Waqar we had understood our mechanism: new ball to be shared between me and Wasim, then Mushi, Imran and so on. Limited bowling options but full of confidence.

Your mind gets confused only when there’s a doubt about what you want or how you are feeling. When someone or something clears that doubt – and your mind is free of clutter – your momentum will remain the same.

For us, the momentum from Perth carried on into the England series (following the World Cup) and kept going for a long time. You keep riding that wave for as long as there’s no major setback, for example a change of captaincy or management.

Sourav Ganguly did it for India for so many years, until Greg Chappell came and put such a brake that it took them several years to get back up again with MS Dhoni.

You see, the people running cricket boards or managing teams must have a deep understanding of the game. If the team is doing well consistently, the managers should be able to identify the fulcrum and just let them be. If you mess with it, there is a breakdown from which you can’t recover overnight.

A positive mind-set takes you all the way up to the top. So when you are displaced from the top you keep swirling down and you can’t just get back on top right away. Look at Australia, they were on top for almost a decade but once they came down, they realised how difficult it is to get back up.

The right mental approach is vital. A coach, manager, captain or even any other senior player can be the pivotal person. For us, it was Imran Khan. It was all him. The ‘92 World Cup belonged to him and his mind-set. It was his brainchild. If it weren’t for him there’s no way we could have even thought about winning, let alone reach the final.

HA: What was it that he said?

AJ: He came to the dressing room wearing his cornered tiger t-shirt and said “I have thought long and hard, spent a lot of time on this and now I have figured it out: From here, we will not look back. People are announcing your return flights but I am trying to figure out who we will play in the final. Not for a second should you think that we are going back.

Just think about the MCG (Melbourne Cricket Ground), the final. I am thinking about it already. From today onward, we will beat these guys and I’m sure nothing and no one can stop us. Everything is coming together for us now.”

What’s that saying about the universe conspiring to make things happen for you? That’s what he meant.

Baat tou saari dunya karti hai, lekin kaun kar raha hai aur keh kya raha...asal cheez woh hai (Look, anyone can speak, give pep talks but what matters is whom it is coming from)

HA:What was your role in the side? Did Imran specify it?

AJ: When it was the three for us, my role was different. We would see which way the wind was blowing and I would just bowl against the wind. I had to bowl tight and be economical in order to create pressure for Wasim and Waqar to strike. You play this game as a team and I was happy doing my bit.

When Waqar left, I realised that I would have to strike now and started thinking differently, like a strike bowler. I guess it worked out okay because even with two bowlers we won the World Cup.

HA: What about Inzamam’s turnaround?

AJ: Once again, you have to give credit to Imran. Whomever he selected, it wasn’t without reason. A complete thought process went behind it. He knew what he could extract from a player. Inzi ran away from the responsibility, he didn’t want to take the pressure but he was forced. Imran said, it doesn’t matter if you don’t score a single run (tu chahe zero kar, chahay hila na jaye...tu bas khel) – just play. Why? He’d say, "You have no idea about your own talent."

Had it not been for Imran, Inzi would have barely survived in the team. That’s what happens here. You come, get your chance in one or two series and if you don’t do well, you’re out. Imran forced Inzi to make use of his talent. People would say, Inzi? What does he (Imran) want from him? But Imran knew what he wanted to do.

On the morning of the semi-final, Inzi tried to bail out. Imran asked us to talk to Inzi so we told him, when the captain is okay with you getting out on zero then what’s your problem? So he played. And how well.

HA: With the turnaround in place, what did Imran say after the Australia game?

AJ:He didn’t really need to talk again. All the boys had their minds set on what he had said earlier. He’d put an idea in front of us, gave us confidence and it worked. From then on, all he would say was: “See? I told you we could do it. Just wait and see what you do next. You will not even let these teams come close to you.”

Whoever you speak with (from the ‘92 side), they will talk about that one meeting at Perth. We weren’t even thinking about winning before that game.

HA: Your catch to dismiss Graham Gooch off Mushtaq’s bowling in the final was one of the best in the tournament. Did you really think you could pull it off in the dramatic manner that you did?

AJ: Players go to the ground and they have several thoughts going through their head: How will we win? What if we lose? With us, it was different. We’d go to the ground to win. We knew it. When you go there to win, you’re searching for opportunities to contribute and make a difference. I was desperately looking for the ball. Your brilliance or skills don’t count for much in such situations. What makes the difference is what you’re thinking.

At times you’re thinking “I hope the ball doesn’t come toward me (yaar yeh ball meri taraf na ajaye)” but in that moment I was thinking, “Come on. How, when, where can I catch the ball?” That’s the difference. It’s all in the head.

HA: How can you think about drawing or losing if, as a sportsman, you're going in to compete?

AJ: If you look at the way Pakistan is playing right now: third Test in a row, Misbah-ul-Haq won the toss, went in to bat and put up a massive total. So if you are New Zealand, how difficult would it be for you to think about winning? When you are stuck in such a situation, you cannot really think about winning. You are barely surviving. These three Tests will now seem like three months to New Zealand given the way Pakistan is playing.

For Pakistan, it will be the opposite. Having won so easily, these matches won't seem like a big deal to them now. Just because of their positive and confident mind-set. The mental aspect is the biggest pawn in cricket.

HA: What do you think about Pakistan’s recent captaincy drama? Should Misbah-ul-Haq lead at the World Cup?

AJ: It’s all a case of poor management. There must be a solid reason to make or remove a captain. If you compare Misbah’s captaincy record with others who criticise him on television on a daily basis, you will see how far he stands out. Mohammad Yousuf is always blabbering against Misbah. Shoaib Akhtar is always swearing at the captain on national television. I don’t understand what they want.

The board management should be very firm on captaincy. Look at his record: Under him Pakistan beat England 3-0, beat Australia 2-0, did well against South Africa. Which other captain has given you such results?

I don’t see anyone being this good at such a difficult time. You don’t have a home series, you keep losing players to controversies and bans, cricket development in the country has slowed down, board management keeps changing every other week. Here’s a man, a genuinely decent man, who has kept everything together and you’re after his life.

Suddenly, there emerges a group that starts clamouring for Shahid Afridi to be made captain and creates a controversy. Has anyone compared his performance with Misbah’s? If you don’t have great options then you don’t need to change anyone. The same goes for Younis Khan’s place in ODIs. If you don’t have anyone good enough to replace him then why remove him? When you’re not ready for a change and you do away with an experienced player, you end up embarrassing yourself.

HA: Is Pakistan’s team composition balanced enough to compete with the best?

AJ: The team is good. Their batting is also coming together and they have found a good wicketkeeper in Sarfraz Ahmed. They just need to slot in a seaming all-rounder like Anwar Ali or Bilawal Bhatti. If Misbah is given a free hand and confidence, there’s every chance of them going all the way.

HA: Will their Test form carry over into ODIs? Especially given the way they lost the ODI series against Australia.

AJ: When the team came here, the board, selectors, management, players – they were all confused. No one knew for sure if Misbah was the captain or not. How do you expect them to give good results? There’s no way a team can succeed if they’re playing under one captain one day and a different one another day. Everyone was going in a different direction. Misbah must be allowed to lead the way he wants to and he’s given a free hand over selection, not bound by requests and parchis.

Everyone, be it Shahid Afridi or anyone else with captaincy aspirations, must be told that firmly that there can only be one captain and there will be only one captain, and if they give such statements again then they shouldn’t ever be allowed near the team again. It’s as simple as that.

HA: Does it really matter if you peak at the right time in a tournament?

AJ: Going into any tournament, you have favourites, minnows and dark horses but the team that clicks at the right time is the one that is crowned champion. This ‘right time’ comes in the middle of the tournament. Some teams start all guns blazing and run out of steam halfway through the tournament or at the knockout stage.

Once again, Misbah should be given so much confidence that even if they lose a couple of matches, his team should have faith in him. And he should have the confidence to tell them it’s ok.

Sometimes you even have to kill the excitement at the start of these big tournaments.

HA: Why can’t Pakistan beat India at the World Cup?

AJ: It’s all psychological. They make the same mistakes: get too emotional, try to do things in a hurry, shut their brain off. The more you try to play an extraordinary game under pressure, the worse the result. As soon as they start feeling pressure, they should just kill the pace and slow things down.

Our mind works the best when it is not pushed too hard. As soon as an India match approaches, they lose their sleep and try to play an extraordinary game. They just need to play as they would against any other team. That’s the only way to deal with such situations. Otherwise panic turns into a stigma and it gets very difficult to get rid of.

Even Indian players are under pressure but because of this trend, they have developed a belief that they can’t lose to Pakistan in a World Cup. Belief and confidence are what matter and help big teams do well. They develop a confidence in their ability to overcome any opposition in any tournament.

HA: How and why do teams choke?

AJ: Due to a lack of emotional control. If you are unable to control your emotions when confronted with a tough situation you get carried away. If you can't let go of your past as a person, a team or a country it becomes impossible.

You can't delete your past, your history unless there's a revolution or major setback, a jolt. Unless that happens you can’t get rid of these tags like chokers, minnows, etc. If you're expected to behave in a certain way as a team or a person, it gets very difficult to let go.

Before Imran, our teams went to big tournaments but couldn't win because as individual players they were all Bradman or Lillee or Sobers but as a team they were zero. He gave us the concept of a team. You need someone to address these situations.

Unless you have someone who can help you get over your history, every time you are in a tough spot you will think back and go over your history and think, “Oh no, we are going to go back into the same situation as before and snap, you spiral down.”

No matter how well Zulfiqar Babar and Yasir Shah bowl here, Pakistan won’t need them in Australia and New Zealand. In case Saeed Ajmal is cleared and is back in the team, then you can have two seamers and a seaming all-rounder.

HA: How do you prepare minnows for a big tournament like the World Cup?

AJ: We set them a target of winning two out the six group games. If we ask them to make it to the next round, they will never be able to pick themselves up after losing their first match. They will stop thinking about winning that one match. But if they know they have six chances of which they have to take two they will have to try every day, in every match.

So even if they lose the first four matches they will know that they can achieve their target in the last two matches. You must keep reasonable, realistic targets.

HA: When should Pakistan reach Australia and New Zealand in order to have the best preparation for the World Cup?

AJ: Two weeks before the tournament. They will also come to the UAE and play here at the ICC Academy, where we have Australian pitches and soil. So they will get a chance to prepare here as well.

HA: Pakistan’s bowling attack, of late, has been heavily reliant on spinners. Will they have to change this for the World Cup?

AJ: With Afridi and Mohammad Hafeez [Hafeez's action has been reported since then] they have enough spin options for the pitches they will get in Australia and New Zealand. They then need three seamers and one seaming all-rounder. Those can be Mohammad Irfan, Junaid Khan and Wahab Riaz. The fourth option can be someone like Anwar Ali or Bilawal Bhatti, who can bat as well. This will allow them to have five batsmen and the wicketkeeper.

No matter how well Zulfiqar Babar and Yasir Shah bowl here, Pakistan won’t need them in Australia and New Zealand. In case Saeed Ajmal is cleared and is back in the team, then you can have two seamers and a seaming all-rounder.

HA: Will Pakistan’s bowlers need to adjust their line and length?

Yorkers are a must, especially in New Zealand as the grounds there are small. If you bowl a length delivery it will land in the aisles. Anyone with a good yorker will survive.

HA: How do you think Mohammad Irfan will fare?

AJ: With two new balls, Irfan can be phenomenal in Australia. He is able to get good bounce, his ball seams so he should be quite threatening for the opposition batsmen in those conditions.

HA: And the batsmen?

AJ: With Hafeez, Shehzad, Younis and Misbah they are left with one slot for Asad Shafiq or Sohaib Maqsood.

They don’t have to worry about pinch hitting. Batting isn’t easy on those pitches so they will need Younis and Misbah. They can’t go to the World Cup without Younis. At number three, you need a player who can play a long innings, someone with experience.

Batsmen will have to change their game drastically when they go to Australia and New Zealand. Almost 60 per cent of their approach must change. They might try to drive and come down the track in the sub-continent but over there they will have to rely on cuts or pulls.

So the game will shift from front foot to back foot. If you don’t have a good cut or pull, you’re stuck.

HA: What would be the average target that Pakistan could defend?

AJ: Matches in New Zealand will be high-scoring ones and even in Australian grounds like Brisbane or Adelaide. But in places like Perth, Sydney and Melbourne it will be difficult to hit big shots.

Pakistan should be able to easily defend 280 or even 250-plus scores. If you compare bowling attacks apart from Pakistan and South Africa, I don’t think any team has a threatening attack.

HA: Going back to the final, what did Imran say after winning the World Cup?

AJ: “What did I tell you guys?”

You can only win when you go into win. He always told us, “don’t go thinking about losing, think about winning and don’t worry if you end up losing in the process.”

It sounds very simple but ask any team how many times all their players are going in with a winning mind-set?

You can talk all about it in press conferences but to actually maintain a winning mind-set is difficult.

Whoever you speak with (from the ‘92 side), they will talk about that one meeting at Perth. We weren’t even thinking about winning before that game. And when you’re not thinking, there’s no way you can do it.

It’s all very clear in my head. I still remember it perfectly. It’s just one moment … when your life changes.

Hafsa Adil tweets @hafsa_adil

25 years ago, on March 25th 1992, the Pakistan cricket team won the World Cup - the wicket keeper at the time - Moin Khan, reminisces about that great day in Pakistan cricketing history. This interview was conducted by Dawn.com on March 25, 2012 on the 20th anniversary.

Gurudwara Patti Sahib is relatively small, as far as Sikh places of worship go. The single-storey structure is surrounded by a courtyard, next to which there are several rooms.

These were once reserved for pilgrims who would travel from across pre-Partition India to Nankana Sahib to celebrate Guru Nanak Jayanti, the birth anniversary of the first Sikh guru, after whom this Pakistani city is named.

Most of these rooms have now been taken over by Sikh families who moved to Nankana Sahib over the past decade after fleeing Taliban violence in Pakistan’s tribal areas.

It was at this gurudwara that Giani Pratab, a devotee, decided to teach young children the tenets of Sikhism and its holy book, the Adhi Granth.

Till a few years ago, just a handful of Sikh families lived in Nankana Sahib, said to be the birthplace of Guru Nanak. A majority of them migrated to India after Partition; today, the city is home to 200-250 Sikh families.

Giani Pratab had come to Nankana Sahib in the 1960s to pay homage to Guru Nanak. Looking at the condition of its gurudwaras, abandoned since Partition, he decided to stay on and look after them.

Read next: A visit to Gujranwala's Eimanabad throws new light on Babur's legacy

This was years before the Pakistan government started renovating Sikh shrines and Sikh families from tribal areas too had not yet migrated to Nankana Sahib. In a Muslim-dominated city, he was the only Sikh. Starting from the late 1960s, Sikhs slowly started migrating here from India and the process gathered pace with the Talibanisation of Pakistan’s tribal areas.

Pratab, well-versed in the Adhi Granth, started acquainting children with the Gurmukhi script, giving them access to the sacred poetry of Sikh Gurus. Alongside their school education, the children were given religious learning at this gurudwara.

This was essential for the children who, educated in the Pakistani system, would otherwise never have learnt the principles of Gurmukhi and would have been unaware of their religious scriptures.

Years later, Mastan Singh, a prominent member of Nankana Sahib’s Sikh community, established the Guru Nanak High School. It was the only institute that imparted religious learning alongside secular education to students in the city, which led to the makeshift school at Gurudwara Patti Sahib to shut down.

Preserving Punjabi

Patti, in Punjabi, refers to a wooden board on which children learn to write and this gurudwara has a legacy of education.

As Guru Nanak was from the Bedi clan, who were ancient readers of the Vedas, it was imperative for him to learn Sanskrit. After mastering the ancient Indian language, he was taught Arabic and Persian – the two most politically-dominant languages of his time. This is the place where Nanak was taught these languages by Maulana Qutab-ud-din that came to be called Gurudwara Patti Sahib.

Almost five centuries after Nanak, young Sikh children at this very place were taught the alphabets of Gurmukhi, a script created by Nanak’s disciple and spiritual successor, Guru Angad Dev. The second Sikh Guru had sought to develop a new script to teach the message of the founder of Sikhism.

Also read: Sacred geography: Why Hindus, Buddhist, Jains, Sikhs should object to Pakistan being called hell

It was also at this gurudwara that Nanak the poet was born. Having mastered several languages, Nanak fused Arabic, Persian and Sanskrit words with the vernacular Punjabi for his first composition.

New words, phrases and symbols were added to a language which, before Nanak, was not considered worthy of containing serious philosophical knowledge. In this way, Nanak not only contributed to the spiritual development of Punjabi but played an even greater role in its linguistic development.

Punjabi today has acquired the status of a sacred language in institutional Sikhism but when Nanak wrote, it was considered the language of the laypeople, not fit to be used by the educated elite. Literature, history, philosophy and religion were passed on in sacred languages – Sanskrit, Arabic and Persian – not accessible to everyone. This perhaps was one of the most revolutionary steps taken by Nanak.

He took knowledge from the elite, from their scriptures and their languages, and presented it in the vernacular. He democratised philosophy and restored dignity to a language, a people and a culture that had for centuries been culturally subjugated.

Further reading: The tale of Guru Tegh Bahadur and Aurangzeb embodies simplification of Sikh-Mughal history

However, years after Sikhism elevated Punjabi to a sacred language, it has once again been relegated to the sidelines in Nanak’s land. Urdu and English are the languages in which formal education is imparted in Pakistan’s Punjab province, while any references to Punjabi poets, literature and culture are obliterated.

The common sentiment towards Punjabi is that of derision. It is considered to be a language of curses. For instance, last year a private school listed Punjabi as an example of the kinds of “foul language” to be banned on its premises. Although the school claimed that this was a misunderstanding and they meant Punjabi curses, the controversy reiterated the disdain towards the language.

On February 21, the world celebrated International Mother Language Day with a focus on promoting multilingual education. Now more than ever before, there is a need to revisit Nanak’s legacy and the significance of languages – not just in Punjab but across the world, wherever they have been subsumed by purportedly powerful languages.

This article was originally published on Scroll and has been reproduced with permission.

“That constellation is the Big Bear, the one opposite it is the Little Bear. At the tail end of the Little Bear is Polaris, the North Star,” I was told. I was around 15 years old when one clear night up in the Northern Areas my father, a sailor, pointed to the sky and showed me how to use the stars to navigate.

The constellation he showed me, Ursa Minor (Little Bear), has historically been very important for mariners making their way through the deep seas. That’s when I realised that the stars above us aren’t just pretty sparkly things but rather altogether form a map. And much like a book, it can be read.

It would take another 15 years before a group of amateur astronomers would teach a bunch of us how to read parts of that map and the secrets it held. Last weekend, the Karachi Astronomers Society organised one of their much-awaited overnight stargazing trips.

The location: the mud volcanoes in the Hingol National Park in Balochistan. They are a four-hour drive from Karachi on the Makran Coastal Highway. The drive itself is beautiful; there is a moment when you go from having the sea on your left to suddenly being confronted with the small but wild and mostly desolate mountain ranges of Balochistan.

Far from the maddening crowd and ‘light pollution’ of urban settlements, the remote mud volcanoes in Balochistan provide the perfect setting for a night of serious stargazing

[Makran Coastal Highway road trip pro-tip: the best bathrooms are at the checkpoints, not the roadside dhabas.]

The location is remote enough for it to get completely dark so even those stars that aren’t visible from the city can be seen. And with the nearest checkpoint a few hundred metres away, it’s completely safe.

The area looks dry and barren, and has a lunar landscape. And while the last hours of daylight can be spent setting up camp and figuring out the toilet situation (there are none), the location affords you a whole new adventure: climbing one of the mud volcanoes.

It takes about 20 minutes to get to the top, depending on how fit you are, the climb is quite steep and the terrain smooth in places where the clay has hardened. Because the area is popular with Hindu pilgrims for whom the volcanoes are holy, you may find incense sticks on the top and at the foot of the volcano. There may also be some poles stuck throughout the length guiding you to the summit.

We were camped at the foot of the largest volcano, Chandragup. It’s still active. Early in the morning, we could see a trail of fresh muddy clay seeping down one end of it.

At nightfall the astronomers and astro-photographers started setting up their precious telescopes and camera stands. The night was spent stargazing from the naked eye and through the telescopes, listening to lectures by the astronomers, and engaging in heated (and very nerdy) discussions. Yes, this is an event where your typical nerds and science geeks are the heroes. So don’t be afraid to get your geek on.

There was no meteor shower that night, although we spotted quite a few shooting stars — my friend counted 16 that he saw. But that night was still special, according to amateur-astronomer-by-night and computer-programmer-by-day, Abubaker Shekhani, one of the founders of the Karachi Astronomers Society. “The most important thing is the Sagittarius arm of the Milky Way, which is also known as its ‘summer arm’,” he told me. “This is the last opportunity to view it from our skies as it will now be invisible next year.”

What we thought was a very bright star that came out at twilight turned out to be the planet Venus — visible at this time of the year with the naked eye. Through the telescope we were shown Mars and Saturn, its rings a bit blurry but distinct.

I finally observed a ‘nebula’ (a cloud of gas and dust in space) and few were identified to me: Lagoon, Ring and Orion Nebulas. In the constellations we spotted Sagittarius, Taurus, Pegasus, Perseus and, what I thought was, Gemini.

We saw the Andromeda Galaxy, which according to renowned astrophysicist Professor Brian Cox is our “galactic neighbour”, the nearest galaxy to the Earth and visible with the naked eye. As luck would have it, we also got to see the Triangulum Galaxy. Apparently it’s not easy to spot precisely and see through the telescope. It also turns out that the galaxies are all white. They’re not pink, purple and blue as they appear in colour-enhanced photos in textbooks and on the internet.

We saw a few star clusters as well. There was the Double Cluster, the Beehive Cluster, and my favourite, Pleiades or the Seven Sisters. In ancient Greek mythology, the Pleiades were the seven daughters of the titan Atlas and sea-nymph Pleione.

The name of the star cluster Pleiades came before the myth. It derives from the word plein (to sail) because of the cluster’s importance in marking the sailing season in the Mediterranean — the season of navigation begins with their heliacal rising. Heliacal rising is the day a star (or a cluster) is first visible above the eastern horizon for a brief moment just before sunrise.

Eventually, we snuggled into our respective sleeping bags, facing east so as to catch the rising constellations at different parts of the night and the sunrise at dawn.

Looking up at the stars, you can’t help but wonder how small and insignificant you are. These stars are billions of years old, the distances between them in the millions of light years.

We don’t come close to comparing to even a tiny fraction of their very existence. You are confronted by this infinite vastness and it’s a little scary, but also humbling.

“I can’t help but realise how unimportant and silly our problems are,” said my friend, “and how none of them really matter.” I agreed.

Published in Dawn, Sunday Magazine, October 9th, 2016

Have you traveled to any remote locations around the world? Share your experience with us at blog@dawn.com

My usual ride to the university each morning involves surfing through radio channels while I am half asleep. But this last Friday was different. I witnessed a traffic accident that jerked me out of my slumber and onto the road.

We had crossed the Khaliq-uz-Zaman Road ahead of the Pearl Continental signal when I noticed a bottleneck of traffic.

As we drove past it, I saw a bike fallen on the road and a crowd of around 15 to 20 onlookers. Right next to the bike was a middle-aged man lying on his stomach, bleeding from his head.

I felt a rush of adrenaline. I am a medical student, but this was the first time it felt like someone’s life actually depended on my actions. I buttoned up my white lab coat and got out of the car to respond to the motorcyclist who had been in a Road Traffic Accident (RTA).

As soon as I walked into the crowd, the first thing I asked was if anyone had called an ambulance. After two people said that they had made calls, I proceeded towards the casualty. I sat beside him to check if he was conscious and breathing. I called out to him.

He was drowsy but conscious.

I asked the bystanders what happened. According to the crowd, it was a case of hit and run.

The motorcyclist had collided with a car and slipped along with his bike. Unfortunately, like most bikers in this city, he was not wearing a helmet which resulted in the apparent head injury.

Meanwhile, I identified the source of bleeding on the motorcyclist’s head and asked bystanders for a cloth. With the cloth, I applied pressure to the wound to control the bleeding. At the same time, I kept reassuring the gentleman that an ambulance was on its way.

Unaware of his surroundings, he seemed exasperated and tried to get up every few seconds.

I told him he had been in an accident and that he needed to lie straight and not move as it could aggravate the injury. Even though onlookers insisted on turning him around, I decided not to move him, as I feared movement may cause spinal injury.

At the same time, to my surprise, a traffic policeman intervened and started arguing with me to shift the injured man into a rickshaw and take him to the hospital. He was persistent, apparently, because he wanted to manage the traffic better. I stood my ground, insisting on waiting for the ambulance.

Despite my best efforts, the policeman tried to pick up the injured man, until the crowd stopped him. Fortunately, the ambulance arrived within moments, and the man was shifted to the vehicle and taken to a hospital.

The episode made me realise the significance of first aid training and how important it is to apply skills in an emergency situation. This particular event was also a reminder of the absolute need for wearing helmets. Head injuries can be avoided simply by wearing a helmet.

What was most alarming was that the city’s traffic police appeared totally oblivious to first aid and response in RTAs. They need to be aware of the importance of the crucial minutes right after an accident and how their mishandling can aggravate the injury, cause paralysis, if not death, in a casualty. If untrained, they should instead call for help and divert the traffic rather than interfering and worsening the casualty’s condition.

In the United States, a basic hands-on training through Basic Life Support certification or completion of several hours of first aid training, varying from state to state, is a minimal requirement for police and security officers.

As a result of this, on Nov 25, 2016 two New Jersey police officers performed cardiopulmonary resuscitation (CPR) on an unconscious 80-year-old man, and succeeded in reviving him till the paramedics arrived.

In Pakistan, the National Highway and Motorway Police have been trained in this regard. In April 2014, the First Response Initiative of Pakistan conducted a First Responder and Emergency Trauma Care session for 32 police instructors from three police training centres in Sindh. The course material was given to the instructors who were required to replicate the training for all police trainees. A year later, sessions under First Aid Responder Course were held in Islamabad.

However, we are yet to see traffic policemen responding to the emergency situations in the field. According to Pakistan Red Crescent-Sindh, on Oct 6, 2016 Sindh Traffic Police signed a Memorandum of Understanding with them to serve as First Aid Responders in emergency situations.

However, no follow up reports are available on the implementation of these courses. As imperative as it is to learn these basic lifesaving skills, frequent revision and knowledge of the up-to-date techniques is also vital. Thus, review workshops and courses need to be scheduled accordingly after the first basic hands-on training session.

I urge everyone reading this to learn first aid skills. There needs to be training for people on a wide scale, from schools, hospitals, universities to corporations. I would suggest starting at home: ask your family and friends to focus on prevention.

My intervention that day earned me a lot of respect from the crowd but the reality is that the state, which is responsible for public services, should take up its duties.

One way to do that is to equip police officers with these basic skills. They are deputed on the roads day and night and their training in these matters could literally save someone's life.

Are you a medical professional or student and have something to say about the state of public health in Pakistan? Tell us about it at blog@dawn.com

Recently a minister belonging to one of the island nations which make up the West Indies suggested that the Caribbean people should forget about the declining status of West Indian cricket and concentrate on the other more important things such as commerce and industry.

He added that in the past, West Indian cricket had an important political aim, but since that aim was successfully achieved, there was now no need for cricket to be taken so seriously.

Despite the fact that the minister’s comments sounded harsh, they do contain a very important historical aspect of the region’s cricket.

Rise and fall of West Indian cricket nationalism

The West Indies cricket team is made up of numerous tiny island states in the Caribbean. The populations of these small islands largely consist of people whose ancestors were brought here as slaves from Africa and South Asia by white Western colonialists.

The hold of white overlords remained strong in these islands even when (from the mid-20th century onward) the black and South Asian people of the region were allowed self-rule.

For example, the West Indies gained Test status in the 1920s, but the team did not have a black captain till almost 40 years later! The team’s first black captain was Frank Worrell who was appointed captain in 1960.

Simon Lister in his 2007 book Supercat quotes the most successful West Indian cricket captain, Clive Lloyd (who was made skipper in 1974), as saying that till the early 1970s, "West Indian players played to please white people" and that "black cricketers were seen as something exotic, whose only role was to entertain white audiences."

But in the 1970s, things were changing on the islands. Left-wing unrest, political turmoil and street violence had gripped the region. These were directly inspired by the emergence of radical ‘Black Power’ groups and civil rights movements in the United States in the 1960s.

Hilary Beckles in her detailed study of West Indian cricket wrote that the West Indian nations had begun to search for an identity that was not shaped by their bygone colonial overlords. The nations were also looking to assert a nationalism based on the black culture, which, over the decades, had developed on the islands.

Amidst riots, assassinations, collapsing economies and growing animosity between the islands, cricket became the sport which not only managed to instill a sense of racial unity between the islands, but the sport also became an expression of collective West Indian nationalism.

This happened when the West Indies won cricket’s inaugural world cup in 1975, defeating a strong Australian side in the final.

This new expression of the emerging West Indian nationalism was further strengthened when the West Indies toured England in 1976. Amidst racial violence in London and Birmingham, England captain Tony Greig was quoted in the press as saying that he plans to make the West Indians "grovel." This was taken as a racist slur by the West Indian squad and it galvanised the players to "destroy English cricket."

West Indian batsmen played their shots as if they were physically assaulting English bowlers, and West Indian fast bowlers, especially Michael Holding and Andy Roberts, were given a free hand by Lloyd to aim at the English batsmen’s heads and bodies. The West Indies won the five-Test series 3-0.

During the last Test when England were on their way to losing the game and the series, Tony Grieg stunned the crowd by falling down on his knees and pretending to grovel. He was literally made to eat his own words.

Thus began West Indies ascendancy in world cricket which lasted for almost a decade and a half, during which the team retained its number one ranking in Tests and ODIs till the late 1980s.

Between 1976 and 1988, every game by the West Indies was played as if it was an act of war and the players were psyched to believe that the existence of the West Indian nations banked on how the team performed on the field.

By the early 1990s, the politics and economies of the island nations had greatly stabilised and improved. Ironically, this is when West Indian cricket began to decline. It was as if due to the political and economic improvements on the islands, West Indian cricket lost its purpose and meaning. The besieged mindset that had driven West Indian cricket between 1976 and late 1980s had withered away.

From the early 2000s onward, the once mighty and seemingly invincible cricket side was hovering at the bottom of cricket world rankings. A sad decline which is still in the process of further deterioration.

Football wars

West Indian cricket is a prominent example of how a sport is sometimes used as a political/ideological expression by nation-states. But this phenomenon was more common in football, especially in South American countries.

Again, quite like what happened in the West Indies, South American football too retained an ideological and political dimension during a period of political and economic turmoil.

Joshua Nadel, a professor of history and author of Why Soccer Matters in Latin America, wrote that "modern Latin American nations and soccer grew and evolved together. Soccer clubs and stadiums acted as spaces where Latin American societies could grapple with the complexities of nationhood, citizenship, politics, gender and race."

He went on to add that in Brazil football first became a way to iron-out tensions between the country’s Latino and black populations and then to develop a distinctive Brazilian idea of nationhood.

The same happened in various other Latin American countries as well whose football squads developed their own style of playing which was different to the European style. This helped define South American culture in a world (and sport) which was dominated by European ideas.

Brazil witnessed a military coup in 1964. Facing an economic crisis, political chaos and racial polarisation, the military regime began investing heavily in Brazilian football. It constructed 13 new football stadiums and handpicked a manager who could be easily molded to mouth the government’s version of national unity.

The ploy worked when Brazil won the 1970 football world cup. The victory was sweet amidst the continuing economic and political turmoil in Brazil. Predictably, the military regime touted the win as a regenerative expression of Brazilian nationalism and unity.

The trend continued in the 1970s. As sportswriter Jamie Rainbow reminded readers in an excellent 2013 feature in World Soccer, by 1975 the Brazilian football team manager was describing the team as "an infantry unit."

Militaristic terms had begun to describe ‘missions’ of Latin American football teams. In fact, an actual war had already taken place between the armies of two South American nations, El Salvador and Honduras, in 1969 over a football match!

In 1976, a military regime came to power in Argentina. The government that the military had toppled had planned to use the holding of the 1978 football world cup in Argentina to revive Argentinean economy, politics and nationalism. The military regime which came to power was brutal and drew condemnation from various European countries.

The dictatorship decided to use the 1978 world cup to cleanse the regime’s tainted reputation. It not only wanted to just host the event but went to great lengths to make sure that Argentina won the cup.

According to a 2012 media report, when the military dictator of Peru sent some political prisoners to Argentina in 1978 to be interrogated by the notorious Argentinean regime, the Argentinean dictator Jorge Videla told his counterpart that he would only agree to take the prisoners if he forced the Peru team to lose to Argentina in a group game.

Argentina needed to defeat Peru by a margin of four goals to eliminate Brazil and go into the finals. That’s exactly what happened. Argentina then went on to defeat Holland in the finals and the victory was hailed by Videla as a triumph of Argentinian nationalism.

But unlike West Indian cricket nationalism of the 1970s and 1980s, the ideological aspect in South American football was more multidimensional. For example, Jamie Rainbow also alludes to the fact that the idea of nationalism held by the opponents of military regimes in Brazil and Argentina also found a voice in the game.

Rainbow wrote that the flamboyant samba style of playing football in Brazil was developed not only as a protest against European style of playing, but also as a protest against the regimented mindset being imposed by dictators.

Ben Cullimore, writing in These Football Times, mentions that before commercialism entirely took over football, most front-line footballers in South America and Europe were socialists because they came from working-class backgrounds.

In 2010, former Liverpool and England footballer Simon Hattenstone told the Guardian that the ‘socialist legacy’ in Latin American football has instilled the kind of collective ethos in South American teams which helps them win more major events than the England team.

Football also became an expression of nationalism in the Netherlands in the 1970s. The Dutch team developed a style of playing called ‘total football’ (totaalvoetbal) - a tactical theory in which any outfield player could take over the role of any other player in a team.

This helped the Dutch to reach the finals of the 1974 World Cup. In the final against Germany, the Dutch employed the tactic to the fullest. In the Netherlands, the game against Germany was seen a chance to seek Netherlands’ revenge against Nazi Germany’s occupation of Holland during World War II. But the tense game was won by Germany.

The nationalist impulse in sports in Pakistan

Former Pakistan batting legend Hanif Mohammad wrote in his book that Pakistan’s first cricket captain, Abdul Hafeez Kardar, would often make patriotic speeches in front of the players and explain to them that playing cricket for Pakistan was much more than a sporting role; it was a national duty of utmost importance.

Pakistan came into being in 1947. It had scarce economic resources and even when its cricket team was handed Test status by the international cricket authorities, its cricket board could not afford to give the players proper playing kits. Hanif wrote that the players were often loaned money by fans so they could buy bats, gloves, pads and shoes.

Kardar was a staunch nationalist and he especially wanted the team to do well against the region’s former colonial rulers England, and also against India from which Pakistan had been acrimoniously carved as a separate country.

During Pakistan’s first-ever Test series in 1952 (against India in India), Kardar asked the cricket board to hand out Pakistan’s national dress – shirvanee – to the players. The government obliged.

But, curiously, when the team was to be photographed with the Indian president in Delhi, they did turn up in shirvanees – except Kardar, who turned up in a tuxedo! No one knows why.

In 1954 when Pakistan defeated England in a Test during its first tour of England, the Pakistan government became alert to the possibility of using cricket as an expression of nationalist fervour. The victory in England was explained as Pakistan’s resilience and the players were hailed as heroes who had ‘overcome the colonial legacy of the region.’

The successful exploits of Kardar’s team continued to draw attention from the government and more resources were invested in the game. In 1958 when Kardar announced his retirement, Prime Minister Feroz Khan Noon and Governor General Iskander Mirza implored him to carry on. But Kardar decided to remain retired.

In late 1958, Ayub Khan came to power through a military coup. He envisioned Pakistan as a country driven by a robust economy and industrialisation and a nationalism built on the precepts of ‘Muslim modernism’, scientific thinking and a strong military.

But after Kardar, Pakistan cricket had fallen by the wayside. It was unable to express Ayub’s idea of vigorous nationalism. This is when hockey seeped through the cracks emerging between cricket and Pakistan’s changing nationalist ethos.

Pakistan hockey had first made its mark by winning the 1958 Asian Games hockey final. But it was the team’s win against India in the hockey final of the 1960 Olympic Games which galvanised hockey in Pakistan and it became the national sport of the country.

On the other hand, cricket continued to slide. After Pakistan lost 4-0 in a series against England in 1962, the Ayub regime announced that Pakistan was not to play any international cricket until the team upped its standards. Pakistan didn’t play another series till 1964. And again none between 1965 and early 1967. It hardly won a cricket game across the 1960s.

What’s more, some schools in the country, such as Habib School and Cantt Public School in Karachi, debarred students from playing cricket.

Cricket in those days was played by just seven countries. Hockey was a more global sport. Ayub found hockey to be a perfect sporting expression of his idea of progress and nationalism. And unlike South American football or West Indian cricket which would thrive in times of political turmoil, hockey in Pakistan grew during a time of economic growth and political stability (albeit both achieved through authoritarian means).

In 1968, Pakistan won its second Olympic hockey title. Though the Ayub regime which had invested major resources in the game was quick to hail the victory as an expression of the government’s ‘decade of development’, truth was that the regime by was now facing a serious protest movement.

After the 1965 Pakistan-India War, the country’s economy had begun to slide, triggering political turmoil. Ayub resigned in March 1969. By 1971, the country’s armed forces were embroiled in a vicious civil war in its eastern wing (the Bengali-dominated East Pakistan).

In the summer of 1971, some Pakistani cricketers tried to make cricket nationally relevant again. The civil war in East Pakistan had gotten intense when the Pakistan cricket team reached England under the captaincy of Intikhab Alam.

A charity organisation had planned to auction a bat in London, signed by Pakistan and England players. The auction money was then supposed to be handed over to the Red Cross working in East Pakistan during a destructive monsoon there.

Some Pakistan players led by former Marxist-student-leader-turned-cricketer Aftab Gul refused to sign the bat, claiming that the ‘Bengalis were traitors!’ But the government of General Yahya Khan, fearing that this act would be seen by the British press as an exhibition of West Pakistan’s arrogance towards the Bengalis, ordered the team management and the captain to make sure that the players signed the bat. They eventually did. Pakistan lost the series 2-0.

Whereas Gul’s attempt to elevate the nationalist character of Pakistan cricket backfired and the sport in the country continued to sink, hockey once again came forth to achieve a major distinction. Now operating in much more troublesome circumstances (civil war, political turmoil, economic decline), the Pakistan hockey team reached Barcelona in October 1971 to take part in the inaugural Hockey World Cup.

It glided through to the final and beat Spain 1-0 to win the cup. Two months later, East Pakistan broke away and became Bangladesh. Yahya resigned and the chairman of the populist Pakistan People’s Party PPP rose to become the country’s new ruling party.

Under Bhutto and after the East Pakistan debacle, Pakistan’s nationalist narrative began to change. It became more aggressive, mainly driven by illusions of grandeur (pumped in to regenerate a demoralised polity) and a persecution complex which blamed ‘international forces working against Pakistan.’

The nature of the country’s hockey team also changed. Whereas in the 1960s the hockey team was to perform as a reflection and symbol of the Ayub regime’s developmental and modernist nationalist model, the team became more aggressive during the Bhutto regime.

In his autobiography, former Pakistan hockey captain Islauddin wrote that the Pakistan hockey players in the 1970s were trained like soldiers. Passionate patriotic songs were played during training and the players were told that they were the sporting expressions of the country’s post-1971 renewal. The persecution complex which had seeped in the nationalist narrative made its way into the team as well.

For example, after Pakistan lost to Germany in the final of the 1972 hockey Olympic final in Munich, the team management accused the referee of cheating. When the team was being handed their silver medals, the players laughed and casually threw the medals on the ground. No action was taken by the Pakistan government. It too believed the refereeing was flawed.

By the mid-1970s, the Pakistan hockey team had reached the number one spot in hockey world rankings. Just before the hockey final of the 1974 Asian Games in Tehran (between Pakistan and India), PTV ran footage of Pakistani hockey players loudly playing Pakistani nationalist songs so that the songs could be heard by the Indian players who were training nearby. Pakistan won the final 2-0.

In 1976, Pakistan cricket which had been in the doldrums ever since the early 1960s tried to crawl back into contention when Pakistan pulled off a stunning win against Australia in Australia. But it got its best chance yet to make a prominent nationalist statement when in 1978, cricket resumed between Pakistan and India. It had been terminated after the 1965 war.

In July 1977 a reactionary military coup had put General Zia into power. He was facing protests when the Indian cricket team arrived in Pakistan to play three Tests and three ODIs. But months before the series kicked off, the Pakistan hockey team had won its second world cup title, defeating the Netherlands 3-2 in a closely-fought final.

On the team’s return to Pakistan (from Argentina), captain Islauddin and his players were showered with praise by the Zia regime and hockey reached the peak of its popularity in Pakistan. An Astroturf stadium was built in Karachi because international hockey was now to be played on Astroturf.

Months later, cricket rebounded by defeating India 2-0, and the regime declared a holiday to celebrate the win! What’s more, while the Pakistan cricket team was on its way to win a Test against India in Lahore, the hockey team won the inaugural Champions Trophy (also held in Lahore), thus retaining its number one ranking in world hockey.

Cricket had somewhat rebounded as a popular sport, but it continued to play second fiddle to hockey. Ironically, even though Pakistan cricket captain Mushtaq Muhammad had managed to make the board increase the salaries of the players, nothing of the sort happened for the hockey players. They were still being dubbed as ‘soldiers’ who were playing for the country’s national pride rather than money.

Low pay and high nationalist expectations did not halt Pakistan hockey’s continuing rise. It remained to be Pakistan’s most popular sport despite the fact that the Pakistan cricket team scored some major victories in the early 1980s, both under Imran Khan’s captaincy. In 1982-83, it defeated India 3-0 and then swept Australia 3-0.

But the Pakistan hockey team was still the number one-ranked side in the world and by now Pakistan was known in the world (especially in Europe) more for the kind of hockey that it had been producing than anything else. Then, in 1982, the hockey team won its third world cup title.

Thousands of fans, including famous film personalities and ministers, greeted the team at the Lahore Airport when it returned to Pakistan (from India) with the cup. Zia praised the side by also alluding to the ‘Islamisation’ aspect which his regime had added to Pakistan’s post-1971 nationalist narrative. He said that the hockey team had ‘played like mujahids (holy warriors)’. And when he was now thinking of using hockey as a diplomatic tool to ease ties with India, Sharjah happened.

If one was to point out the year from when Pakistan cricket began to overtake hockey as a national sport, it has to be 1986. During a Pakistan-India final in an international cricket tournament in Sharjah in April 1986, India was well-placed to win the game when Pakistan vice-captain and master batsman Javed Miandad played a match-winning innings to help the team grab its first major tournament. Requiring four to win from the last ball of the match, Miandad lifted Indian medium-pacer Cheetan Sharma for a massive six!

The country went wild and Minadad became perhaps Pakistan cricket’s first millionaire! On the other end of 1986, hockey world champions Pakistan were knocked down and out of that year’s Hockey World Cup. In the 12-team-event, Pakistan came 11th. As a consolation, the number two side in the world India came 12th. The great South Asian hockey decline had begun.

In an interview given on a show on PTV, Pakistan’s ace goalkeeper Shahid Ali Khan spilled the beans by informing that hockey players got just Rs26 as daily allowance on tours and less than Rs1,000 per match. He added that whenever the players had asked for a pay raise, they were told that they should be ashamed of themselves for asking money because playing for Pakistan was a ‘selfless national duty.’

Zia now decided to use cricket as a diplomatic tool instead of hockey to better ties with India. He did just that by visiting India to watch a match during Pakistan’s 1987 tour of that country. Pakistan won the Test series 1-0 and the ODI series 5-1.

From the late 1980s onward, Pakistan cricket inherited the nationalist character which the country’s hockey had been carrying ever since the early 1960s. In 1992, the Pakistan cricket team won its first world cup, coming back into the tournament after being almost knocked out.

This win further consolidated cricket’s popularity and national character in Pakistan, even though the hockey team did rebound for a bit by winning its fourth world cup in 1994. But this was Pakistan hockey’s last hurrah. It began to decline rather drastically.

Today, the new generation of Pakistanis have little or no memory or knowledge of what Pakistan hockey was once about. This once giant nationalist-sporting endeavour has simply withered away.

Pakistan cricket’s most recent nationalist endeavour came in 2012 when Misbah-ul-Haq was made captain of a team tainted by scandal and infighting. It reflected the state of the country at the time: polarised, isolated and plagued by terrorism. No foreign team was willing to tour Pakistan. Misbah had to captain all his games abroad.

He gradually repaired the damage and in 2016, when Pakistan won a Test against England at Lords, the team performed push-ups as a salutation to the military men who had given fitness training to the players for the tour. This was Pakistan cricket’s way of acknowledging the shift in the nationalist narrative being shaped by the state and government of Pakistan which now wants to reverse the militaristic narrative instilled in the 1980s.

The push-ups meant that cricket is still well ingrained as the sport which defines Pakistan’s nationalist ethos.

When people ask me if they should visit Marrakech, I quickly reply with an enthusiastic yes, shortly followed by “But it’s not for everyone”. With its dusty roads and confusing alleys, this historical Moroccan city isn’t a postcard of scenic beauty—but it is a place full of character.

The city’s charm lies in the maze-like passages of its old district dotted with colourful, antique doors and in the ubiquitous feeling of traveling back in time.

Arriving in Marrakech with three days ahead of us, our gastronomic journey started from our riad (old houses converted into hotels) in the ancient, walled district of the city, known as the medina.

The first night, we opted for a local three-course meal at the Riad Karmela, featuring an array of flavoursome mezze, a lamb tajine—a staple North African Berber dish—and a dark chocolate cake with poached cinnamon apple.

In contrast to the frantic alleys of the medina, the riads were serene sanctuaries. We would start our day with a delectable breakfast that consisted of different types of cheese and fresh bread, and end our evenings with mint tea and Moroccan sweets.

On our first morning, we walked through the alleys crowded with people, vehicles and horse carriages, and headed outside the medina to the Jardin Majorelle. Painted in a striking blue shade—known as Majorelle blue—the garden hosts a museum, gallery, boutique, and a courtyard café. It was once owned by the famous French designer Yves Saint Laurent, and the road that the garden is located on is named after him.

As many tourists do, we kept the evening for the Jemaa el-Fna square, where you can hear, see and feel the pulsating vibe of the ancient city. You’ll find hawkers, street performers, snake charmers, and even witch doctors at Marrakech’s main square. A moment’s curiosity comes at the price of a tip, so keep that in mind before pausing in front of any performers.

As the sun sets, Jemaa el-Fna transforms into a food court with every vendor vying for your attention, yelling “Good food, no diarrhoea.” A carnivore’s dream come true: the food stalls offer all sorts of meat, kebabs, and even sheep’s head.

We took a seat at one of the busy stalls and ordered a mixed meat barbeque platter that was served with bread and a spicy sauce. Not the most glamorous, this is one of the most authentic dining experiences one can enjoy in the city.

Jemaa el-Fna is surrounded by entrances to the famous souks of Marrakech that are filled with antiques, Berber jewellery, furniture, carpets, ceramics, coveted pure argan oil, spices, and everything else you can think of.

Although the starting prices might seem like a steal owing to the currency rate, you’d be surprised at how low they go if you have strong bargaining skills—just know that you’ll be up against seasoned shopkeepers.

The salmon pink walls of the old district house a number of historical sites—Medersa Ben Youssef, Koutoubia Mosque, Bahia Palace, Saadian Tombs—which we visited over the next two days. Exemplary models of Islamic and Moorish architecture, the landmarks feature colourful zelij (tiles), intricate Arabic calligraphy, and ornate carvings.

During the walk (factor in some time for getting lost in the winding alleys) from one site to the other, we came across museums and small entrances to some of the best cafés and restaurants. The one that caught our eye was Nomad, a minimally decorated, modern Moroccan restaurant. It was packed at lunchtime, but luckily we found a table on the rooftop where they also provide straw hats for shade from the sun.

We ordered chicken brochette, couscous, and spiced lamb burger with harissa (red chilli paste) mayonnaise, a condiment integral to Moroccan cuisine. Nomad is a model example of how the local culinary scene is melding contemporary cooking techniques with traditional recipes and ingredients.

Another such eatery was the Atay Café, which had three terraces. Lounging on the sofas on the rooftops, we could take in the rugged landscape of the medina against the Atlas Mountains as French music played in the background.

The menu had all the staples—tajines, sandwiches, pasta, salads, brochette—but the most delicious part of the meal was, once again, harissa. You can even buy some at the souk to take back home with you.

In the midst of sightseeing, shopping, and getting accustomed to the local cuisine, we squeezed in a few hours of pampering at the stylish spa in La Sultana Hotel. Think calming argan oil aroma, an exceptionally attentive staff, and a gorgeous property highlighting the unique characteristics of Moroccan architecture.

Once we finished getting our treatments, we went to the rooftop of the spa to watch the sun set over the Kasbah Mosque. Regardless of whether a spa day is on your list, go to the restaurant in La Sultana for the dark chocolate ravioli in a Nutella and walnut sauce—it really is as divine as it sounds.

You’ll come across more known and bigger eateries, such as the Hotel Restaurant Café de France and Café des Epices during your time in the old district.

But if you’re willing to find an oasis of lush, jungle palms in a narrow street, then keep Le Jardin in mind—the lamb tajine at its café is worth coming back for.

Otherwise, you can always take back some street food (I recommend the Msemen flatbread) to the riad and have it with Moroccan tea under the orange trees.

Have you had a memorable culinary experience in different parts of the world? Share it with us at blog@dawn.com

This article was originally published on August 5, 2015

Pakistan hockey. It is not unusual to talk about it in the past tense now.

World Cup winners, Olympics giants; the kings of hockey. The way things have turned out, all of it seems like a myth.

It is very easy to start blaming the individuals running the hockey federation for Pakistan's predicament but there are many reasons for the game's decline. The behaviour of the government towards the national sport tops that list.

Financial issues have always dogged the national federation. And with the passage of time it demanded an increase in funding from the government which I think is logical considering how elite sports bodies function throughout the world and the economics behind it. But you will be surprised to hear that the Pakistan Hockey Federation (PHF) does not even own a single stadium, let alone generate enough revenue to support itself.

A top-class facility with a state-of-the-art training centre should have been a given. Basic accommodation in or around this complex could have saved thousands on hotel expenditures. But the government quite simply lacks the vision to undertake such a project and to expect the PHF to lead on this front is a foregone conclusion.

As things stand, it is clear the government and PHF have trust issues as highlighted by the decision to audit the federations accounts. According to some reports the previous government had released 1.2 billion rupees to the federation in 2009. Olympian Samiullah was right in saying that “any sport in the country could have been boosted with money like that.”

If the reports are accurate, and we can only judge when the audit is complete, then there is a massive lack of planning and misuse of money. The PHF has been knocking all doors with the hopes of getting funded or sponsors but they have struggled. It is a natural outcome of the federation not being transparent in its financial dealings and the public and private sectors not seeing any results.

At the end of the day, like so many other national sports bodies around the world, it has to sustain itself. And that can only come if competent people are in place.

‘Offline’

In the tenure of PHF president General Aziz Khan ( 2000-05 ) and secretary Brigadier Musaratullah Khan (2000–06) there was a proper marketing team functioning of PHF. Headed by Sardar Naveed Haider Khan it did a great job. I have no hesitation in saying this.

The ‘funding’ issue by no means a new development. But my question is what has the federation done on its part to resolve it? Why have they only relied on the government for funds when clearly it to has been dictated by politics?

Currently, there is a marketing department only in papers and shockingly the official website of the hockey federation is down most of the time if not completely offline. To the common man, that is the most visible indicator that funds given by the government, if any, have gone down the drain. The finance department is clearly also a figment of the imagination.

What was Pakistan doing in the past that cannot be replicated now? We are well beyond the ‘Astroturf’ argument. Nothing in life stays as it is and much like the other aspects of it, sport too goes through an evolution. The challenge for sport teams, much like everything else, is to adapt and the process should be taken as such. Unfortunately, for the longest time we used the change in playing surfaces as an excuse for whenever we lost.

We fell off the pace so much that we now rank 10th in the world, sandwiched between Korea and Spain. Teams like Belgium, Argentina and New Zealand have left us in their trails.

The ‘naan-cholay’ diet

The incompetency of the federations and even the government officials who are responsible for the demise of the national sport ultimately trickles down and it is the players who suffer the most.

When Pakistan failed to qualify for the 2016 Rio Olympics, the first such instance and coming straight after the embarrassment of not qualifying for the World Cup in 2014, the national captain, Mohammad Imran, finally broke his silence.

Imran's outburst came after the PHF and coaching staff did not waste a single minute in blaming the players for Pakistan's humiliation.

“Naan Cholay [bread and chick peas] eaters cannot achieve the desired results and no one should have expected victory in the Hockey World League semi-finals,” Imran said upon his return from the Olympics qualifying tournament in Belgium.

While part of Imran's statement was to be taken literally, the Pakistan captain was also highlighting the total lack of professionalism in handling the affairs of hockey in the country. Unfortunately, many experts in the country missed the point.

But it's not just hockey, all sports in the country have suffered due to a lack of professionals in the national federations. Many athletes have gone on record to reveal that they never received a single penny of the amount announced as a reward by the government for their achievements.

Victories and victorious athletes have only been used as photo ops by the government and political parties.

The system has failed, they say. In reality, there is no system.

Now, apart from hockey not being played in schools, there is no domestic calendar and no coaching standard. But we should not ignore the condition of our players.

What Imran said last month is the bitter truth. He should have said that a long time ago.

In the national training camps, considering the standard of the food that is offered, our green-shirted warriors should be saluted for even their losses.

There is no professional physiotherapist, physical trainer, nutritionist, video analyst and goalkeeper trainer with the team. There is one doctor with the team but I never understood his role.

This is the situation at the national level, so you can only imagine how bad it will be at the lower levels.

Despite of all of this, they still manage to bring home a few medals. The silver medal in Asian Games and Asian Champions Trophy 2014 are examples. For me these players are the real heroes.

What's in a diet?

Proper nutrition plays an important role in any sport and now there's a whole science to how athletes prepare.

All the other hockey nations are investing in their infrastructure by providing their players the best facilities and bringing in professional coaches, trainers, physiotherapists and nutritionists. In our training camps, Rooh Afza and dates serve as ‘energy boosters’. At breakfast, the players get a vitamin and I think that's where the doctor's role ends. Sitting in our homes, then, we expect are players to fly on the field.

I understand that our players have different eating habits as most of them come from rural areas. Even the ones from the cities, though, prefer to have traditional food. Even when the team is abroad Pakistani food is arranged especially for the players. No heed is paid to the ingredients of the food and how they would hinder in the recovery process of players.

There were players like the legendary Sohail Abbas who always set an example for the rest of us. He used to buy his own supplements and follow a plan for fastest recovery and strength. I have seen players just appearing for dinner in the training camps because if they skip they are fined. They then proceed to go out and have their own dinner.

So in effect, the management creates a situation for the player where they don't have too many choices. Sohail Abbas did what he did because he educated himself and played under professional in foreign leagues.

The PHF organised lectures on nutrition on occasion but where are the professionals to implement what is being taught?

Every time when we get a foreign coach, the priority shifts to fitness and diet. There's marked difference in the fitness levels of players under foreign coaches.

There is a dire need to understand how sport works and the complexities around it. In Pakistan, neither the game is valued nor the player.

What is a Pakistani hockey player worth?

When it comes to appreciating the efforts of our hockey players, there should be no doubt.

Our players get Rs 15,000 rupees as a daily allowance on foreign tours and it is a fact that they haven't received it on many tours in the past. Yet, they continue to fight for the country. So we should not doubt their love for the sport and country.

We must keep in mind that it is not only the players who look towards the PHF, but the lives of their families are also put on hold due a to lack of steady income.

Players who do have jobs do not earn anything close to what international stars do which makes daily allowances a very important part of their finances.

During training camps, the players get 1000 rupees and that too isn't a given. Thanks to some international leagues where Pakistani players are still in demand, there is a source of income. But that opportunity only comes when you've played for your national team. What about the countless guys playing domestically?

Can the players really be blamed if they choose to play abroad and skip national camps?

Tired and hopeless, the players have seen officials getting richer by the day and expected to remain silent. When they speak out, they are reminded about their contract with the federation.

But the PHF must understand that it exists because of the players not the other way around.

Salman Akbar is a veteran goal-keeper who made his debut for Pakistan in 2001. Termed by Olympian Shahid Ali Khan as one of the most hard-working players in the game, Akbar has won the 2003/2004 Champions Trophy bronze medal, 2005 Rabo Trophy, 2006 Commonwealth Games silver medal and the 2010 Asian Games gold medal with Pakistan. He has 230 international caps and represented Pakistan at two Olympic Games and three World Cups.

Yesterday marked the 10th World Autism Awareness Day. The United Nations, which passed a unanimous resolution in 2007 designating April 2nd for autism awareness, had Autonomy and Self-Determination as this year’s theme.

One would expect that in this day and age, people would have a better idea of what autism is (or isn’t). But from activists, academics to parents, there is consensus that the situation is far from ideal and the world at large has failed to recognise the rights of people with autism.

We, the neurotypical (those who don't fall on the spectrum of autism) in psychiatric parlance, tend to see autistic people as inherently broken and abnormal. As a result, people with autism still fall outside of the basic human rights mentioned in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, and therefore, fail to develop autonomy and self-determination.

According to a recent study conducted by the University of Cambridge, about 12% of the suicides in the UK involve people with a high probability of autism. Even in high and middle-income countries, many factors can be attributed for people with autism lacking the dignity and respect they deserve.

The most common reason is the general lack of support and early intervention for autistic children which makes them vulnerable to bullying, loneliness, and leaving school – and thus struggling in life.

The situation is worse in many developing countries, including Pakistan. Autism is a challenging condition but when combined with ignorance, myths, stigma, and dearth of professional medical expertise, it becomes a tragedy.

Two years ago, I wrote about my experience of raising a child with autism. The blog provided a rallying point for parents of children with autism, as they looked for guidance, moral support, and encouragement. But at the same time, it did not prevent them from falling into common pitfalls.

A culture where disability is a curse, parents seemed desperate to find solace in the thought that their child will become ‘normal’ once intervention starts.

The urge to remove the child’s disability was very strong. There seemed to be an assertion that by putting a child in an intervention program, the child ‘sheds’ autism and becomes indistinguishable from his regular peers.

American writer Steve Silberman, in his ground breaking book Neurotribes: The Legacy of Autism and How to Think Smarter About People Who Think Differently, dispels the need to shed autism. His basic premise is that people with autism should not be perceived as being deficient, but valued for their different ways of processing information.

As a mother of an autistic child, I admit that in the beginning, I lacked the right conceptual tools to understand autism. Having spent a few years educating myself and researching into my child’s condition, I have completely shifted my approach.

I realised that the desire to make my child behave ‘normally’ was actually detrimental to his health and would hurt his chances of growing into an autonomous and self-determined individual. My unlearning and learning process has helped me dispel certain myths that I would like to share with you:

Myth 1: I am responsible for his autism

Some clinicians in the early 20th century saw mothers as the reason for their child’s autism. It is said that in 1943, when Dr. Kanner coined the Refrigerator mother theory linking autism in a child to the mother's cold behaviour toward the infant, many women welcomed the theory because of the implicit possibility that a change in their own behaviour might bring about a cure.

The thesis was long rejected by researchers, including by Kanner himself.

Myth 2: Children with autism have very little potential

Of all the features of autism, none is more widely admired than the fact that autistic children are remarkably talented. With proper attention, parents and caregivers can focus on the child’s strengths and help cultivate them. In fact in popular accounts of autism, an autistic person's savant skills like art, music, maths, memory, and attention to fine details have become quite known.

Myth 3: My child will not be able to lead a 'normal' adult life

Will he be able to work, marry, and have children? Should I be daunted by autism or should I face up to the challenge and try to create an environment where he can succeed in life? I think that by trying to do the latter, I have done more justice to my son.

Myth 4: Only the child needs to be trained

Medical journal Lancet published results of a breakthrough study in October, 2016 that can help bridge the communication gap – which is one of the main hurdles – between neurotypical people and those who have autism. The study showed how parents should be trained to pick up communication cues from their child at an early age so that improvements are made on several behavioural fronts.

Autism remains a profound and life-changing disability, but none of this changes the fact that autistic individuals deserve the same rights as all of us, and that an appropriate environment needs to be fostered whereby they can develop their skills and fulfill their potential.

Given the shortcomings and challenges, it will require dedicated work by parents, schools, employers, life partners and the community as a whole to reach that point. As someone who has an autistic child, I urge you all to play your part.

Are you living with a disability? Are you a family member, friend, or counsellor who is helping someone to cope with it? Tell us about it at blog@dawn.com

Pakistan’s founder Mohammad Ali Jinnah, like all major personalities in history, is a contradictory figure. Many, with different ideological backgrounds and motivations, claim him.

While these claims are an outcome of political and social vicissitudes, one would expect that at least there would be consensus over Jinnah’s year, date and city of birth. But it’s not so simple.

Several contradictory claims, almost each one with documentary evidence, have been made about Jinnah’s date and place of birth. Ghulam Ali Allana, a friend and biographer of Jinnah’s, mentions several different dates in Jinnah’s biography Quaid-e-Azam Jinnah: The Story of a Nation. Written originally in English, the book was translated into Urdu by renowned poet Rais Amrohvi. Both versions have been published by Ferozsons.

Records show different dates

On the page 19 of the Urdu version, Allana cites an enrollment register at Sindh Madressatul Islam in Karachi which states that Jinnah was enrolled into the school on 4th July, 1887. The records state his name as Mohammad Ali Jinnah Bhoy and city of birth as Karachi. His date of birth is not mentioned. Other entries are as follows: Age: 14 years; Sect: Khoja; Previous qualification: 4th standard Gujrati; Fee waived or to be paid: will be paid.

A second entry with the serial number 178 indicates that Jinnah was re-enrolled into Sindh Madressatul Islam on 23rd September, 1887. This time his date of birth is 20th October, 1875, and his previous qualifications are: First standard Anjuman-e-Islam Bombay.

A third entry made on 9th February, 1891 carries these details: Name: Mohammad Ali Jinnah Bhoy; Birthplace: Karachi; Date of Birth: 20th October, 1875; Sect: Khoja; Previous qualification: 4th standard; Fee waived or to be paid: Paid.

The last two entries in the school records raise questions about 25th December, 1876 being Jinnah’s official birthday. But, there is a lot more tenable evidence to support the official claim than the ones made by Allana’s in his biography of Jinnah.

For example, Sarojini Naidu, who was the first author to publish a Jinnah biography, Mohammad Ali Jinnah an Ambassador of Unity: His Speeches & Writings 1912-1917, has provided proof that 25th December is indeed Jinnah’s birthday. She cited Jinnah’s passport. At the same time, however, the document contradicts 1876 being his actual year of birth; according to Jinnah’s passport, his year of birth was 1875.

Controversies around his city of birth

Now to his city of birth, which also has twists and turns. Researcher and journalist Mazhar Laghari told me that most people in Sindh believe that Jinnah, as well as his grandfather Jinnah Bhoy Poonja, was actually born in Jhirk, Thatta, which at that time was an administrative part of Karachi.

Textbooks published by the Sindhi Adabi Board in 1950s and 60s mentioned Jhirk as Jinnah’s place of birth. Written by Dr. Omar Bin Abdul Aziz, these books were taught at primary schools in Sindh.

Here is an excerpt from a textbook for 7th standard students:

“Sindh’s proud son was born around three-quarters of a century ago in a village near Jhirk. His father was a poor trader. No one could have imagined that one day he would be ranked among the greatest people of the world. After completing his preliminary education, he passed his matriculation exams from Sindh Madressatul Islam.

Later, he got a loan of Rs 3,000 from Seth Noor Mohammad Laalan and went to England to become a barrister. English civilisation and education deeply influenced his life. After returning from England, he landed in Bombay, where he started to practice as a lawyer and earned great fame.

Here, under the influence of veteran Dadabhai Naoroji, he actively participated in political affairs. First, he joined Congress, but when he realised that the Hindu-dominated Congress would never promote Muslim interests, he parted ways with the Congress and founded the Muslim League. Valiant men like Maulana Mohammad Ali Jouhar also joined it, but Jinnah outgrew everyone, owing much to his great moral character and resilience.”

The issue of Jinnah’s birthplace surfaced during the time of Zulfiqar Ali Bhutto, who formed a fact-finding committee which visited Jhirk to collect evidence such as school registry lists.

However, some of the Jhirk elders believe that the records had been taken away in 1967 by the Commissioner Hyderabad Masroor Ahsan, who was President Ayub’s and Nawab of Kalabagh’s blue-eyed boy. As divisional commissioner, he wielded more power than today’s provincial governor. Ahsan belonged to the Urdu-speaking community and some of the events during his tenure betrayed his alleged prejudice towards Sindhis, their culture, language, and history.

It was during Ayub’s era that Sindhi language was banned as medium of instruction in schools and universities. In this backdrop, it is easy to understand why Ahsan was accused of destroying the records about Jinnah’s ‘real’ birthplace: he wanted to deprive Sindhis of the honour that Jinnah was born in one of their towns.

No evidence of birthplace in Sindh

Myths aside, there is no proof that Jinnah was born in Jhirk. The town was well organised and all of the shops were registered and paid annual taxes. Its administrative records do not mention the names of Jinnah’s father and/or grandfather.

There is no documentary evidence to suggest that the Jinnah family lived in Jhirk when Mohammad Ali Jinnah was born. When Karachi was hit by the plague in around 1890, the family moved to a property owned by the Agha Khan in the modern-day Defence area of Karachi.

During these years they might have gone to Jhirk for a brief period, but it is too remote a possibility. And anyway, Jinnah would have been 16 by then.

Official documents show that Jinnah’s father lived in a rented house in Karachi from 1872 to 1880. It is difficult to believe that a man who lived in a metropolis would move to Jhirk, a town with few health facilities, at a time when his wife was about to give birth. There is no rationale for such relocation.

Yet, this does not prevent some from believing that Jinnah was born in a small Sindhi town. Former Minister of Culture in Sindh Sassui Palijo maintains that research conducted in 1990 proves that Jinnah was in fact born in Jhirk.

Wazir Mansion didn't exist at time of birth

But if you’re thinking that the mystery has been resolved, you’re wrong. After hearing all these stories, I wanted to figure out the case once and for all. I contacted renowned historian and archaeologist Kaleem Lashari, who came up with a new revelation.

It is widely believed that Jinnah was born at the Wazir Mansion in Karachi, but the truth is that the mansion was not even built at the time of his birth.

Jinnah’s exact birthplace is a house located close to the plot where the Wazir Mansion stands today.

According to Lashari, Fatima Jinnah told the commissioner of Karachi that the Wazir Mansion was their family house and that she was born and spent her childhood there. The government appropriated the house and compensated the owner Wazir Ali Alauddin by giving him another property.

At the same time, people took Wazir Mansion to be Jinnah’s birthplace as well, without ever inquiring if he was actually born there. They thought that if Fatima Jinnah was born at the mansion, Jinnah, too, must have been born in the same house.

Two houses and a double-storey building stood on the plot where the mansion would later be built in 1880, at least four to five years after Jinnah’s birth. Another small double-storey building and two houses stood on the adjoining plot. Both plots were bought by a man named Omar from the municipality in an auction.

The houses that stood on the land which would later be taken up by the Wazir Mansion was occupied by the owner of these houses. The double-storey house on the adjacent plot was being rented by Jinnah’s father and grandfather. Today, an apartment building named Ali Manzal stands there.

By the time the Wazir Mansion was built, both the plots belonged to Jinnah’s father.

Jinnah’s father and uncles began construction on this land and the Wazir Mansion was built by their company Jeevna Bhai Natha Bhai & Co. But the building had to be auctioned off since the company incurred huge losses in the process. In 1890, the mansion was sold for Rs 18,500.

The documents available with the sub-registrar show that the six-storey Ali Manzal, adjacent to the Wazir Mansion, stands at the exact same place where Jinnah’s father and grandfather lived in a small rented house around the same period of time when Jinnah was born.

This lends credibility to Lashari’s account that Jinnah was not born in Wazir Mansion but where Ali Manzal stands today.

I have visited the Wazir Mansion, which has been declared a national heritage and is dubbed Quaid-e-Azam’s birthplace. A memorial tablet in one of the rooms reads: “Mohammad Ali Jinnah was born in this room.”

No doubt, the property was constructed and owned by the Jinnah family, but to say that it is also the place of birth of the country’s founder might not be the most accurate statement.

This article was translated by Arif Anjum from the original published in Urdu.

Indian government asks cricket board to select at least two cows in cricket team

New Delhi: The government of Prime Minister Narendra Modi has asked the Indian cricket board, the BCCI, to select at least two cows in the country’s cricket team.

A government spokesperson Anu Kintan Karnik Lal Taneja (aka Bob) said that since cricket was India’s most popular sport, the quota system will first be implemented in cricket and then extended to other sports.

It is believed that since India has a Hindu majority, the selected cows will be included at the expense of Muslim players in the team.

"All (cow) selections will be made on merit," Taneja explained. "Cows play their best cricket with those who don’t eat them. Thus, it is likely they will replace Muslims in the team," he added.

The BCCI has set up a training and trial camp in Uttar Pradesh (UP) for the cows so that they could be selected to play for India in the forthcoming Champions Trophy in England.

The government has appreciated the initiative. It has advised the Muslim players to take up yoga and reflect on the number of promising fast and spin bowling cows and talented 'batscows' they might have eaten.

Meanwhile, the cricket team’s chief selector Venkatana Rasimha Rajuvaripe Dharampal Rao (aka Jim) told reporters that the selected cows are expected to perform well in England due to grassy grounds there.

Hailing Rao’s assessment, Minister of Sports Kodhanda Pattabi Sundar Sita Ram (aka Tim) said, "Yum."

Talking to media personnel at the site of the training camp, Rao explained, "Cricket was first invented by cows in ancient India millions of years ago … along with football, hockey, baseball, basketball and nuclear-powered vacuum cleaners."

Hailing Rao’s assessment, the Minister of Sports said, "Yo, mama!"

India is currently the number one-ranked Test side in the world. A statement issued by the BCCI stated that the board believes the addition of cows in the side is likely to make India the number one-ranked Test side in the whole Milky Way galaxy. The statement then cautiously added: "Pun not intended".

JI discovers ingenious way to reduce electricity bills by creating traffic jams

Karachi: One of Pakistan’s oldest political parties, the Jamat-i-Islami (JI), has discovered a unique way of reducing electricity bills in Karachi. Earlier this week, the JI demonstrated how this can be achieved by blocking some of the main roads of the city and creating massive traffic jams.

Dr Anwar Waqar Haqi, who heads the JI’s quantum physics wing, told reporters at a press conference, "My party was planning on issuing a protest statement against K-Electric (KE) and a hike in electricity rates. I told them that the JI has always been a party of brilliant intellectuals –- most of them proud graduates of the Punjab University. So we should be offering the suffering masses a scientific solution."

Dr Haqi said that he came up with the idea of blocking the city’s main roads to create massive traffic jams. He explained that the jams would keep thousands of Pakistanis in their cars and on their motorbikes for hours thus delaying their arrival at their homes. They will not be using electricity as much they do because they would be stuck in a traffic jam.

This way hours and hours of electricity would be saved, drastically reducing their electricity bills and heralding the fall of KE and the emergence of a glorious theological revolution and an eventual international Caliphate.

When a reporter ridiculed the idea, he was beaten up by a couple of intellectuals from the Punjab University. However, Dr Haqi intervened and told the besieged reporter that he should see the beating as a lively intellectual debate between believers and a skeptic. He said that this would see the downfall of skepticism and the emergence of a glorious theological revolution and an eventual international Caliphate.

Government files petition in court against hot weather, says it is causing loadshedding.

Lahore: The PML-N government’s Water & Power Ministry has filed a petition in court against hot weather. The petition claims that persistent hot weather in the Punjab has been creating long bouts of loadshedding. The petition appealed to the court to hear a case against the weather which is clearly being controlled by the enemies of Pakistan.

The government’s claim was backed by a leading scientist, Dr Athar Nasir, who teaches botany at a high school in Okara. Speaking on a TV talk show, Dr Athar said hot weather has been unleashed by scientists in India, Afghanistan, Iran, Bangladesh (and now Yemen) in an attempt to disrupt Pakistan’s otherwise excellent and abundant electricity network and supply.

He also asked the government to initiate immediate action against the malicious activities of hot weather.

On the same talk show, the Minister of Water and Power said that his ministry has already taken some solid steps to reduce loadshedding.

For example, he informed that the government has shut down dozens of websites which it believes were aiding the hot weather. He added that the government has also asked PEMRA to issue notices to TV channels who were showing plays based on steamy subjects and had hot actors and actresses in them.

"They have to understand all this is aiding hot weather which is causing loadshedding," the minister said.

When asked why there was no loadshedding in some Arab countries which were hotter than Pakistan, the minister replied: "That is because hot weather over there is not anti-state. It is not obscene. It is patriotic. It actually helps these countries in creating progress. Like helping the growth of beautiful date palm trees."

He asked patriotic Pakistanis to reject the malevolent designs of hot weather. When asked how one can do that, the minister said: "It’s simple. Eat more dates."

He added that this way, "The hot weather will run away, thus ensuring an unlimited supply of electricity and another five-year-term for PML-N in the government."

The court has accepted the petition and will begin proceedings soon.

PTI issues fresh list of people who helped rig 2013 election, list also includes name of Lord Mountbatten.

Islamabad: Pakistan Tehreek-e-Insaf (PTI) has issued a new list of people who it believes were involved in rigging the 2013 election. A senior member of the party, Naeem Khakan, shared the list at a press conference.

He informed media personnel that the new list was based on an investigative report which appeared on the website of one of America’s leading TV news shows, Saturday Night Live (SNL).

The list has 704 names on it, the most prominent being: Najam Sethi, Najam Sethi’s wife, Najam Sethi’s children, Najam Sethi’s neighbors, Najam Sethi’s cat, Barack Obama, Rahul Gandhi, Ian Botham and Bishop Tutu. The list also includes the name of the last Viceroy of India, Lord Mountbatten.

Khakan explained that according to SNL’s report and PTI’s own investigations, the plan to rig the election was first initiated by Mountbatten in April, 1947, four months before the creation of Pakistan, five years before the birth of PTI chairman Imran Khan and 66 years before the 2013 election.

"Mountbatten was a twisted visionary," Khakan said. "He had seen that in 1952 a male child will be born in Lahore who will grow up to defeat England in a cricket world cup final and then win an election and cause the downfall of brown sahibs and install a powerful Scandinavian Caucasian democratic capitalist socialist industrial Islamic welfare state in Pakistan."

Replying to a question about the evidence behind the names on the list, Khakan said, "All the evidence is out there. On YouTube, Facebook and Twitter. One just has to stay logged in."

"Take the example of South Africa’s Bishop Tutu," he said. "He was clearly involved in the rigging," Khakan added.

When asked what proof he had about Tutu’s involvement, Khakan logged on to Twitter on his iPad and showed the reporters the PTI Twitter handle’s latest hashtag: #GoTutuGo.

"What more evidence do you people want?" he asked.

Sindh government runs out of Police IGs to dismiss.

Karachi: After removing at least three dozen police IGs since 2010, the PPP-led government of Sindh has run out of IGs to dismiss. A source close to the PPP’s central leadership told Dawn.com that party chairperson Asif Ali Zardari has asked Sindh CM Murad Ali Shah to initiate crash courses for police officers so they could be jettisoned to the position of IG and then either dismissed or transferred.

The source said, "Mr Zardari is a workaholic. He needs to remove or transfer four to five police officers every week. Otherwise he gets very angry and threatens to return to Dubai and not take visiting party members to the Dubai Mall."

The source also informed that the Sindh government has requested real estate tycoon Malik Riaz to provide dismissible or transferable IGs.

This idea was floated by PPP leader Shajeel Memon because it is believed that with the severe shortage of dismissible IGs in Sindh, Mr Zardari, out of desperation, was planning to dismiss PPP co-chairperson Bilawal Bhutto and transfer him to a non-existent PPP office somewhere on the edge of the Karakoram Highway.

Disclaimer: This article is categorised as satire.