I got married a few years ago. Long before we were back from our honeymoon; long before we even unpacked most of our luggage, we started feeling “the great expectations” creeping into our life.

Mostly, it was those strange nudges and indecent insinuations by the mothers-in-law and their various variants (khalas, chachis, mumanis, etc). We tried to ignore them, but very soon, the probing agents came out with full blown blatant interrogation, geared around just that one question:

‘Has it happened yet?’

You cannot say no to that question. I repeat: ‘No’ is not an option, never was and never will be, as we were soon about to find out the hard way.

Their first reaction to an answer in the negative is always along the lines of this dialogue from some Indian film: “Badu normal chey (Is everything normal)?”

And you can claim all you want that yes, everything is normal; it is normal not to have “something happened’ in the first few months right after the wedding, but you'll be doing it to no avail.

Our perceived inability to make it ‘happen’ was explained away in myriad ways, with given reasons falling across a wild range, from ‘effects of horse riding’ to ‘bad company during teenage’. We even had to undergo a rather embarrassing medical examination at a prestigious hospital just to prove ... our mettle.

When everything was proven (‘all sat’), there came the advice mafia, and boy did it become a full-blown pandemic.

Friends and foes, near and far, relatives and acquaintances, regular folks suddenly turned into urologists and gynecologists.

Aunties we had never met in our lives, old women in the neighbourhood, even perfect strangers and bystanders started offering us the most intimate of advice.

Ab-e-nesaan, the water from nauroz rains, the kurtas from holy shrines, the mithais, the totkas and the recipes...we had it all.

Also read: Looking for a cure: A nation reliant on 'totkas'

The most relentless and ubiquitous was the demand that USA makes of Pakistan these days:

‘Do more.’

When every other tactic failed, we decided to seek refuge in the concept of family planning. I mean it was easy to accept that everyone had a right to enjoy his/her life and control its events, right?

Apparently not. This is where the real headache started.

Are you insane?
How can there be happiness, rather, how can there be a life without babies?

We were given a dozen arguments, all based upon the fickleness of life. Now there is a huge variety of these, but let me summarise a few:

Argument no.1

‘What if you lose your ability to procreate in the next two years?’

Barring accidents, we did not see any immediate danger threatening to kill our ‘production facilities’. We did provide some solid lab reports and some detailed opinions by the doctors, but in vain.

Argument no. 2

We learned that there is a target line that we must meet, in terms of our age ratio to the age of our children.

Which is to say that when you are around 60, your kids should be around 30. This strategy helps to ease your retirement by ensuring that by the time you retire, your kids are employed, thus maintaining a healthy breadwinner-per-family balance.

Now this logic is hard to beat, but the argument does not cater to the fact that many individuals have different retiring ages, while different careers have different induction rates.

Argument no. 3

Parents (usually mothers-in-law) want to see their grandchildren in their lifetime. The wish makes its way to your ears attached with the emotional blackmailing that they are getting old and sick and may depart for good, any day.

While true, this argument did not justify hurrying it anymore than the others.

Married people just can not escape this juggernaut of doting, loving, caring but persistent insistence, no matter how passionate you feel about the population problem.

Lucky for us, the circus ended on a beautiful Sunday morning, when we found out that we were indeed going to have a baby. Besides the wonderful feeling of being introduced to parenthood, we found a sudden and immense relief in the fact that the nagging and advising would all now come to end.

As it turned out, the aunties were just getting warming up for ‘the second child conundrum’. But, I’ll leave that story for another day.

On October 16, 1951, Pakistan’s first prime minister Liaquat Ali Khan was assassinated in Rawalpindi's Company Bagh (also known as East India Company Garden) during a public meeting of the Muslim City League.

He was a close aide to the founder of Pakistan, Quaid-i-Azam Muhammad Ali Jinnah, and it was during his rule that religious parties begin to take foothold in Pakistan.

To thwart their designs, Liaquat Ali Khan had introduced the Objective Resolution in the Constituent Assembly. Apparently it was aimed at checking the influence of religious groups, but Khan’s detractors would say that the resolution, instead of erecting a barrier, provided religious parties with a constitutional base to impose their ideologies on the rest of Pakistan.

The same Objective Resolution was later made part of the country’s Constitution by military ruler General Ziaul Haq to enforce his self-conceived version of Islam.

After Liaquat Ali Khan’s murder, the Company Bagh was renamed as Liaquat Garden.

Exactly 55 years later, in this very Liaquat Garden, another prime minister, Benazir Bhutto, was to be assassinated.

Liaquat's 'Afghan' assassin

In his book, "The American Role in Pakistan", M. S. Venkataramani writes that a single bullet from Liaquat Ali Khan’s assassin proved to be the catalyst of change. Pakistani officials quickly declared that the assassin Said Akbar was an Afghan national.

An Afghan government spokesman insisted that Akbar had already been stripped of his Afghan citizenship for his anti-national activities and that the British rulers of pre-partitioned India had given him refuge in the North Western Frontier Province (now Khyber Pakhtunkhwa). Soon it was revealed that the Pakistani government continued to pay Said Akbar his welfare allowance as determined by the English masters of the sub-continent.

The New York Times ran an Associated Press story which quoted Pakistani officials as saying that Said Akbar, the Afghan national who had assassinated the prime minister, had been receiving a monthly allowance of Rs450 (USD 155) from the government of Pakistan.

It is an undisputed fact that Liaquat’s assassin Said Akbar was sitting in front of the stage in a row of chairs designated for the Crime Investigation Department (CID) police officers. The place he had positioned himself in allowed him to target Liaquat Ali khan.

How did he get there?

It is a question that remains unanswered and a subject of speculation even after 55 years. Akbar was shot dead by police at the same spot, minutes after he had assassinated the prime minister; his death deepened the mystery surrounding this high-profile murder.

The New York Times reported that moments after Akbar had fired two shots, people sitting nearby pounced at him and dismembered him; he was also shot at, and at least one bullet was fired by a police officer, who later testified that he was ordered to shoot the assassin by a senior police official.

By killing Said Akbar, instead of arresting him, police officers eliminated a crucial piece of evidence; similarly, when Benzair Bhutto was assassinated in 2007 as she left Liaquat Garden after a public gathering, Rawalpindi’s Fire Department was quick to wash the crime scene, depriving investigators of important evidence. It placed another question mark on the country’s history of unsolved assassination cases.

Recalling Liaquat's Soviet invitation

Liaquat Ali Khan is often accused of initiating the policy of Pakistan’s tilt towards the United States by preferring Washington DC over Moscow for his first state visit. He is also accused of rejecting the Soviet invitation. Historical evidence, however, suggests that it was Quaid-i-Azam who had decided that Pakistan would join the American — rather than Russian — block. He had made up his mind even before partition.

Dennis Kux, a former State Department South Asia specialist, writes on pages 12-13 of his book:

"The United States and Pakistan 1997–2000" that US Diplomat Raymond Hare met Jinnah in May 1947 in New Delhi and asked him about Pakistan’s future foreign policy.

Responding to Hare’s query, writes Kux, Jinnah said that, “Pakistan would be oriented toward Muslim countries of the Middle East. Since they were weak, ‘Muslim countries would stand together against possible Russian aggression and would look to the US for assistance.’ The Muslim League leader said that although he did not personally share the view, most Indian Muslims thought the United States was unfriendly. They had the impression that the US press and many Americans were against Pakistan.”

Jinnah grew more suspicious of the Russians after the Partition; his mistrust of a super power next door would be discussed later, first let’s examine the charge against Liaquat Ali Khan — that he had snubbed the Russian invitation.

Contrary to this popular belief, he was, in fact, never invited by the Russians in the first place; instead, the invitation was extracted by Pakistan with some diplomatic manoeuvres.

In 1949, US President Truman had invited Indian Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru on a state visit to Washington DC. It irked the Pakistani prime minister, who was known for his pro-West policies, because instead of inviting a proven ally, Washington had bestowed the honour of state visit on Nehru, who was perceived to be a socialist and communist leader.

To soothe Liaquat Ali Khan’s hurt pride, Raja Ghazanfar Khan, a senior Muslim League leader, came up with an alternative.

Raja Ghazanfar was Pakistan’s ambassador to Iran, and enjoyed a warm relationship with a Russian diplomat. He threw a dinner party, where the Russian diplomat Ali Alvi and Prime Minister Liaquat Ali Khan met.

The prime minister expressed his desire to visit Moscow. On 2nd June 1949, Liaquat Ali Khan received an invitation from the Soviet Union which he duly accepted after five days. Now, he was all set to visit Moscow.

But Pakistan’s pro-West bureaucracy was unhappy with the proposition.

Americans and British, too, were not pleased. The United States was tolerant enough to not to voice its anger, but the British were unequivocal in their show of displeasure.

The British High Commissioner in Karachi, Sir Laurence Grafftey-Smith, warned Pakistani Foreign Minister Sir Zafarullah Khan that the upcoming visit to Moscow would be seen with mistrust by American and British populations.

Finally, the visit was cancelled.

The popular belief that Liaquat Ali Khan had received both Soviet and American invitations at the same time, and that he had snubbed the Russians is wrong. Liaquat Ali Khan had extracted the invitation from Moscow, and when the visit was cancelled, it was not solely his decision.

Dennis Kux writes on page 33 in his book:

“After Pakistan initially suggested that Liaquat arrive in Moscow on August 20, 1949, the Soviets proposed that he get there on August 15. Pakistanis countered that this was physically impossible because the prime minister had to be present on Pakistan’s Independence Day celebration the day before, on August 14.

The Soviets then suggested a two-month delay and eventually agreed to an early November arrival date. They also insisted on having resident envoys in place before the visit, but delayed giving agrément (sic) for the Pakistani ambassador until October 28 and failed to nominate a Soviet envoy to Pakistan.

By the end of October 1949, a perplexed foreign secretary Ikramullah confided to British high commissioner Grafftey-Smith that Moscow was dragging its feet on the trip and had even allowed the prime minister’s passport to languish three weeks at the Soviet Embassy in New Dehli."

Kux’s account suggest that Liaquat Ali Khan had a genuine desire to visit the Soviet Union, but Soviet officials had set an arrival date that was impossible to follow for the Pakistani prime minister.

After the Partition, Russians had aligned themselves with India and understood that she would be their nature ally. It is also possible that Indian officials were involved in the delay of the visit, which was eventually cancelled.

Pak-US friendship

Liaquat Ali Khan had inherited a pro-America policy from Jinnah, who never hesitated to reach out to the United States. On 5 October 1947, his personal envoy Laik Ali had presented a communiqué to American officials, requesting a loan for Pakistan.

Liaquat Ali Khan meets US President Harry S. Truman. — Photo courtesy: Wikipedia Commons

M. S. Venkataramani writes in his book, "The American Role in Pakistan, 1947-1958" that Laik Ali presented two other documents to the US Department of State outlining Pakistan’s needs.

The documents said Pakistan required USD700 million for industrial development, USD700 million for agricultural development, and USD 510 million to boost its defence. In total, a five-year loan of around 2 billion dollars was requested by Pakistan.

It is clear that Liaquat Ali Khan had not laid the foundation stone for the “Pak-US friendship”, and that the process had begun before Partition under Quaid-i-Azam, who speeded it up after independence.

In the early months after Pakistan came into being, Liaquat Ali Khan was overshadowed by a very powerful Governor-General Muhammad Ali Jinnah, who would preside over the cabinet meetings and make most of the decisions.

Liaquat's political insecurity

Pakistan, under Liaquat Ali Khan, failed to draft its Constitution. The first prime minister also experienced political insecurity. He was fully aware that his contemporaries such as Huseyn Shaheed Suhrawardy enjoyed popular support. He was extremely careful in the selection of his staff, effectively excluding anyone who had both Indian and Pakistani citizenship, though he himself had migrated from India to Pakistan.

In Pakistan Ke Pehle Saat Wuzra-E-Azam (The First Seven Prime Ministers of Pakistan), Naem Ahmed et al. write on pages 39-40:

“The prime minister was extremely careful in the selection of his staff. When the workload increased, he added another member to his staff to work as his deputy private secretary. The officer was selected on the basis of his place of birth. The prime minister was presented with three names, out of which he chose Mian Manzoor Ahmed because he hailed from East Punjab. The other two hailed from UP (in India) and their relatives still lived in UP. The decision did not spring from any regional biases; there was a good justification behind it. Since Pakistan had newly come into being and the prime minister's office contained classified and important documents, a man with the least possible connection to India was preferred, because officers with relatives in India were deemed as divided Pakistanis, or the ones sailing two boats at the same time. There was a possibility that Indian agents could easily buy their loyalties.”

Liaqaut Ali Khan is accused of favouring Muhajirs (people who migrated from India to Pakistan) but the above example shows that as prime minister of the country, he was not willing to trust anyone whose relatives still lived in India after the Partition.

Bringing religion into politics

As discussed earlier, Liaquat is blamed for introducing religion into politics, but he purged his office from people with links to religious groups.

Naem Ahmed et al. have recounted one such episode on pages 19-20 in their book:

“In the Prime Minister Branch, a clerk named Rehmat Elahi was tasked with book-keeping. He was a very serious and tacit man. He had worked for a few months, when an intelligence report revealed his affiliation with Jamat-e-Islami. The man was asked to disown his link with Jamat-e-Islami and assured that by doing so he would be able to keep his job. But he was a very brave man. He countered that a similar report had led to his dismissal from the army which he had joined as commissioned officer. ‘I am only a clerk here,’ he said. ‘I can’t tell lies.’ Eventually Rehmat Elahi tendered his resignation. It was the same Rehmat Elahi who is now ranked among the top activists of Jamaat-e-Islami. Under General Ziaul Haq's military rule, he briefly served as minister for power and water.”

Unsolved assassination

From Liaquat Ali Khan to Benazir Bhutto, Pakistan has a history of unsolved assassinations. In Liaquat Ali Khan’s case, the officer investigating his murder and vital documentary evidence met their demise in an air crash.

Syed Noor Ahmed in his book, "Martial Law Sey Martial Law Tak (From Martial Law to Martial Law)" details the circumstances of the air crash. He writes on pages 396-7:

“Nawabzada Aitzazuddin, who was travelling to meet Prime Minister Khawaja Nazimuddin having been summoned by him and who was carrying important documents about the investigation of this case, was killed in an air crash. The aeroplane crashed near Jhelum after developing a mechanical fault, which started a fire onboard, and all the passengers, their luggage (including documents on Liaquat Ali Khan’s assassination) were burnt. After Liaquat Ali Khan’s assassination, when a new cabinet was formed, Nawab Mushtaq Ahmad Gurmani, who was minister for Kashmir affairs in the old cabinet, became the country’s new interior minister. When an investigation into the assassination was initiated, Gurmani came under sharp criticism. To ward of the censure, he, after much delay, sought help from the Scotland Yard, hiring an experienced investigator to solve the case. But this was only an attempt to save face. The motives behind Liaquat’s murder would never come to light.”

Then, a strange revelation was made. In February 1958, a defamation suite Gurmani vs Z.A. Suleri was being heard by a Lahore High Court bench. The court wanted to see an investigation file about Liaquat Ali Khan’s assassination. The Attorney General, who was present in the courtroom, was asked if it was possible to present the file in the court; he promised to supply all the necessary information by Feb 25. When the Attorney General failed to live up to his promise, the court sent him a letter, to which he replied that the Chief Secretary West Pakistan was holding the file.

The court issued a summon, and on March 1, 1958, an Additional Advocate General testified that the file had gone missing, and that a search was underway. On March 8, a CID officer informed the court that the government was unable to locate the file and, hence, unable to present it in the court.

Liaquat Ali Khan’s assassination was met with a somewhat mute response from the country’s other politicians.

Ayub Khan, in his autobiography, "Friends Not Masters" writes on page 41:

“When I returned to Pakistan, I met several members of the new Cabinet in Karachi — Prime Minister Khawaja Nazimuddin, Chaudhri Mohammad Ali, Mushtaq Ahmad Gurmani and others. Not one of them mentioned Liaquat Ali Khan’s name, nor did I hear a word of sympathy or regret from any one of them. Governor-General Ghulam Mohammad seemed equally unaware of the fact that the country had lost an eminent and capable Prime Minister through the fell act of an assassin. I wondered how callous, cold-blooded, and selfish people could be. It seemed that every one of them had got himself promoted in one way or another. The termination of the Prime Minister’s life had come as the beginning of a new career for them. It was disgusting and revolting. It may be a harsh thing to say, but I got the distinct impression that they were all feeling relieved that the only person who might have kept them under control had disappeared from the scene.”

Translated by Arif Anjum from the original in Urdu here.

http://images.dawn.com/news/1174056/your-wedding-lengha-comes-with-a-legacy-of-pain-and-injustice

Yes, we love to mistrust each other. It is a Partition thing. We have fought four wars against each other, there's the ‘K’ word that crops up like chai pe charcha and now Sartaj Aziz has even dismissed any hopes of cricket.

But, as Mehdi Hasan sang in his timeless ghazal, ‘ranjish he sahi, dil dukhane ke liye aa…’, there is a thread of lingering curiosity connecting both sides that refuses to snap.

For my family, Pakistan invokes immense nostalgia. My father was born in our family home on Lahore’s Nisbat Road. The house is long gone, replaced by shops, as he discovered when he went with the media party to cover Prime Minister Vajpayee’s visit to Lahore. But the link remains.

You watch our films, we stay up late for your dramas. And sometimes, we simply open ourselves up on instinct and let the conversations flow, like my conversations with these Pakistani taxi drivers.

Away from the daily suspicions and endless conspiracy theories, I live in a melting pot called Abu Dhabi, Dubai’s richer and greener neighbour. Here, the pot runneth over with some delicious mutton and naan rotis that are bigger than any feelings of personal animosity.

Indian or Pakistani, here we are all ‘desi’.

I came to Abu Dhabi over a year ago. Almost immediately after my arrival, a taxi driver here from Islamabad took me on another journey.

With Bollywood songs blaring nonstop in the taxi, he introduced me to the delights of Pakistani food. Soon, I learned there was nothing called a vegetarian diet in this game (‘Koi meat chorh ke sabzi kyun khayega, ji?’), and that ghee wasn’t something used only in children’s food (‘Woh qeema nan hee kya jo pehle ghee mein na daala ho’).

Since then, every weekend, my husband joins the taxi drivers at Student Biryani for some biryani, haleem and the most divine kebabs we have ever tasted. In return, I have challenged a Pakistani friend that we can cook and feed them vegetables so deftly that they wouldn't even find out.

Away from all the mistrust and jingoism, thus began these taxi rides, involving some learning, some unlearning, and all equally enlightening.

Most of the Pakistani taxi drivers who I have met here are from the Khyber Pakhtunkhwa region.

‘Aap kabhi Pakistan aye toh paharri ilaqa dekhain, bohut khubsoorat hai (If you ever happen to visit Pakistan, visit the mountainous areas, they're beautiful).’

I wonder once again if he means the areas where the drama Dyar-i-Dil has been shot. I have yet to see a more stunning landscape, although my over-imaginative mind always expects the Taliban to be lurking behind those tall trees.

‘Iss ilaqay mein koi bhi militant nahi hai ji, bohut safe hai (There are no militants in the area, it is very safe).’

When I hear this, I wonder if I have been out of the newsroom too long?

Also, here I must mention that Imran Khan may have lost his looks, gotten a new wife and suffered a hundred losses in different political games, but for these proud drivers, he is still the messiah.

A belligerent Faisal once roared: ‘Agar aap us ke khilaaf ek bhi lafaz bolenge toh mein aap ko taxi se utaar doonga (One word against him and I'll have to ask you to get out of the taxi).’

But most other cabbie bhaijaans stop at the self-explanatory ‘Hum Pakhtun hai’, like Feroze, who not only insisted that Imran will come to power next time but will also take everyone along.

That ‘everyone’, my horrified Indian brain soon realised, was a truly all-encompassing word, because the list began to include intelligence agencies and the Taliban.

Also read: Tough Pakhtuns find solace in Afridi’s Pakistan

‘Kachra logo ne kachra kar diya hai, Imran Khan ka saara paisa awam ke liye hai (Rubbish people have rubbished everything, but Imran Khan’s entire wealth is for the poor).’

I, at once, recalled how years ago, the television network that I worked for had to drop an interview with the former cricketer after he had allegedly asked money for it; it was unheard of in those days. Hopefully, the ‘awam’ is benefiting.

Inam Khan, a rather jolly-looking taxi driver summarised it: ‘Peshawar ko dekho aur Nawaz Sharif ke Lahore ko dekho ji (Look at Peshawar and look at Nawaz Sharif's Lahore).’

I replied, though without my usual chak de spirit, ‘Mein bhi Punjabi hoon ji (I am also Punjabi).’

To make amends, the driver came up with another gem.

‘India ki security sirf Punjabiyon ne sambhalee hui hai. Yeh hatte katthe log hain, meat khaatay hain na iss liye (The Punjabis are taking care of India's security. They are big, burly people you see, because they eat meat).’

Referring to some other parts of India, he added: ‘Yeh vegetarian khana kha ke kya desh ko sambalenge (Can these people really support their nation on vegetarian diets)?’

And then, the punchline: ‘Agar Punjabi nahi hotay tou Pakistan kab ka India ko kacha chabaa jata (If it weren't for Punjabis, Pakistan would have devoured India a long time ago).’

I was too choked for further conversation.

But what would these cab drivers do without our Punjabi sense of humour? Or their humour at the expense of Punjabis?

‘Sharif toh pukka businessman hai ji, uska bas naam hi sharif hai (All Sharif cares about is business, he's innocent only in name).’

Take a look: Pakistanis buy Dubai property worth $379m in three months

I still try to extract some friendly sentiments of Punjabi loyalty by pointing out that my family migrated from Lahore. In post-partition India, families got classified as ‘Peshawari’ or ‘Lahori’. Now, there was a third phrase.

‘Tou phir tou ji aap almost Pakistani ho (In that case, you are almost Pakistani).’

The more things are different, the more they are also the same.

Ajmal the driver kept pointing out of the window, saying: ‘Idhar Dubai mein ji Zardari ki properties hi properties hain, per PPP toh khatam hi ho gayi. Bilawal kya karega, woh Urdu tak tou bol nahi sakta (There is no end to Zardari's properties here in Dubai, but PPP has finished. What can Bilawal do when he has such a hard time speaking in Urdu)?’

And just like that, a vision of Rahul Gandhi came to mind, speaking in Parliament (one of those rare times), clinging on to his Hindi speech sheet written in roman. Clearly, the dynasties share more than just a tragic history.

With Modi under so much scrutiny back home, I am always curious to know what others think about our prime minister.

‘Yeh Modi dhamkee bohut deta hai (This Modi guy keeps hurling threats), announced a sheepish driver Aslam, but perhaps trying to kill two birds with one stone added: ‘Aap ke Punjab ka bhi khayal nahi rakhta (He doesn't care about your Punjab either).’

I smile, because what else can I do? Modi isn’t really my chief minister, present or ex, like Amarinder Singh, whose interests across the border are an open secret.

But our shared love of the dramatic inevitably ends up at the movies. Shahrukh and Salman Khan, revered equally across the border, just as long as we can also claim Fawad Khan.

‘Fawad Khan jaisay bohut milenge ji Pakistan mein (There are countless Fawad Khans in Pakistan),’ the drivers tell me proudly, and somewhat dismissively.

For someone who is hooked to Pakistani dramas way more than the saas-bahu melodrama on the Indian side of the border, no one yet has come close to being a humsafar, nor has zindagi been as gulzar since Fawad started with films.

See: Compliments to Pakistan shouldn't be construed as anti-Indian, says Naseeruddin Shah

There is one thing I have missed on these rides though: For every ‘abhi tou party shuru hui hai’, I wish someone had played a Farida Khanum track.

But who knows? There are still many drives to go on, many stories to listen to, many trips to take to the Khaadi store, and hopefully, somewhere in the middle, a chance to come across those haunting vocals at least once:

♪ ‘Waqt kee qaid mein, zindagi hai magar, chand ghariyan yahi hai jo azad hai.’ ♫

A friend complained of her daughter’s obsessive concern with weight and diet. We’d met at a gathering and her frankness led everyone to share their own experiences with weight control, diets and moods.

It seemed everyone had a story to tell.

My friend’s daughter was 16 years old, 5’3” tall and weighed 100 lbs; underweight. Her obsession with weight had worsened over the past year.

I asked if there were any emotional issues as well. Unprovoked aggression with siblings, anger management issues and extreme anxiety regarding tests at school were the features now, of this once “sweet girl”.

Another mother complained of her adolescent son’s addiction with food. He eats and eats and eats. And then eats some more. His weight? 108 lbs at a height of 4’6”; obese.

Being a doctor myself with some knowledge of such matters, I suggested that both mothers should see a psychiatrist for their children. Wanting to know more myself, I started reading about eating disorders.

Starting from emotional binge eating to bulimia to anorexia nervosa, it seemed that these disorders are far more common than visible.

Reaching out for comfort foods as a regular habit, leads us to the feeling of mental satiety which, although short-lived gives that “high” needed at a particular moment of “feeling blue”. Such a habit is very easy to form and very hard to break.

Further problems lie in the choice of comfort foods which are very fattening and never seem to include vegetables. I would admit that I too stand guilty!

Eating disorders are not a fad, a passing phase or a lifestyle choice. They are real and complex conditions, which, if left untreated, can have serious consequences for physical and mental health, productivity and relationships. Potentially, they may also be life-threatening.

Body dissatisfaction remains the best-known contributor to the development of eating disorders such as anorexia nervosa and bulimia nervosa. Girls as young as six years may express concerns about their own weight. Such concerns are carried on to adolescence by almost 40 per cent of these girls and about half of these girls will show moderate to severe symptoms.

Also read: Eating in the dark

Contrary to popular belief, eating disorders are not restricted to females only. An estimated 10-15 per cent of people with anorexia or bulimia are male and they are less likely to seek treatment for it because of the perception that these are ‘women diseases’.

As with all chronic diseases, eating disorders exhibit certain warning signs. Such changes in attitudes and behaviour need early intervention, which is vital in promoting recovery.

Detection of these warning signs is quite difficult as the person suffering from an eating disorder experiences shame or guilt about their behaviour and may go to extreme lengths to hide them.

Also, many people may not realise or even accept that they have a disorder, or even if they do, they will not want to give up their behaviour as it is their mechanism for coping with the underlying issue.

Behavioural warning signs may include:

• Being on a constant diet; strict calorie counting, fasting, avoidance of fattening foods and replacing meals with liquids.
• Dividing foods into “good” or “bad”.
• Avoiding social occasions involving food.
• Giving excuses to avoid food at meal times.
• Strong focus on body weight and shape to the extent of obsession.
• Excessive use of weighing scale and mirrors.
• Continuous denial of hunger.
• Significant decrease in portions when eating with family and ‘playing’ with food.
• Deceptive behaviour around food like secretly throwing it in garbage.
• Wearing baggy clothes.
• Sudden interest in ‘healthy eating’.
• Excessive and compulsive exercise pattern; exercising in bad weather or with injury and exhibiting distress when unable to exercise.
• Hidden stashes of food for binge eating, typically sweet and cold foods.
• Evidence of binge eating like sudden disappearance of food from fridge or wrappers found in the bin.
• Evidence of forced vomiting or use of laxatives.
• Frequenting the washroom during or shortly after meals.
• Social withdrawal from friends and previously enjoyed activities.

Physical warning signs include:

• Sudden changes in weight, especially alarming weight loss.
• Complaining of feeling cold all the time.
• For females, disturbance in regular monthly period is a very important sign.
• Dizziness or fainting spells.
• Complaints of feeling tired all the time.
• Signs of frequent vomiting like damage to teeth or swollen gums.

A combination of these symptoms may be present in a particular eating disorder. Barring a few ground signs, no two cases are alike. It is entirely possible for a person to exhibit several of these symptoms and not have an eating disorder.

It is always best to seek professional opinion.

Also read: Eating disorders — Thick and thin

Psychologically, a person may also be depressed or irritable with low self-esteem. Having a distorted, unrealistic self-body image is also a hallmark symptom of eating disorders. He or she may complain of life being ‘out of control’ and display uncontrolled affection / aversion towards food.

Anorexia, bulimia and binge eating disorder may even be genetically linked. But the environmental impact of negative situations cannot be overlooked.

The adage, ‘a family that eats together, stays together’, appears to be drenched in old-age wisdom. People suffering from eating disorders are likely to be coming from dysfunctional family.

Also careers which promote being extra lean (modelling and ballet), sports where emphasis is on maintaining low weight (rowing, race horse riding, gymnastics), peer pressures, cultural influences and sudden drastic changes in life play a big role in determining whether a person will succumb to eating disorders in a moment of emotional weakness or not.

There is no standard treatment for eating disorders, as each case is different from another; it is rather tailored to individual needs and is often carried out at a specialised centre by a team of medical doctor, nutritionist, psychiatrist and behavioural psychologist / therapist.

The highest priority is given to medical care and monitoring for management of physical and often fatal symptoms produced by over-eating, chronic starvation or excessive purging.

Individual meal plans are prepared by the nutritionist aimed at weight restoration and stabilisation. However the success of treatment depends on cooperation of the patient, without which even the best laid plans could fail.

Individual, family or group psychotherapy are helpful in addressing the underlying cause of eating disorder. Healing from traumatic events, expressing emotions, effective communicating skills and healthy coping skills are the main targets of this part of the treatment.

Psychiatric medications may also be prescribed to treat depression, anxiety and for mood stabilisation.

However, it may be pertinent to point out here that no medication can actually cure a full blown eating disorder without acceptance of the disease by the patient, family and friends.

Acceptance remains the first step closely followed by the will to get better and live a normal life.

As with all diseases, ‘prevention is better than cure’, a vigilant eye on our young wards may help nip the evil in the bud.

Published in Dawn, Sunday Magazine, October 18th, 2015

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Karachi is not a tourist city anymore. Its streets today are not filled with tourists; there are no hop-on-hop-off buses running its length. The facades of the famous buildings are not lit up at night.

Nonetheless, the city is bustling with economic activity. There is a boom in construction, with malls and skyscrapers being built overnight. These buildings are connected with newly built underpasses and flyovers, which are instantly packed with new vehicles.

But, no new trees are being planted.

And it seems construction companies are filling the void by decorating underpasses with tiles painted with lush green scenery on them.

Political parties have their posters placed in every nook and cranny, but there is hardly any pride left to be claimed. The Karachi of today reminds me of the goose which laid golden eggs but its owner, in his greed, slaughtered it to steal all its eggs right away.

The streets are flooded with people, but there are hardly any public spaces. There are fragments of aesthetically inspiring architecture, but it is not celebrated anymore.

Somewhere in the pursuit of happiness, we have forgotten to take a pause and appreciate the city’s decaying heritage.

I still get odd requests for a guided tour, most of which I am unable to oblige. However, I insist that people explore the city on their own. I tell them to walk down its smog-filled alleys in the old city without a purpose and see the people connect with its ancient mansions and patios. These forgotten landmarks have stories to tell.

And so, I've put together a Do-it-Yourself guide for a day’s tour to some of the city’s easily accessible places. Set out on a Sunday morning to avoid traffic. Also, take some music with you – famous titles by Marvin Gay, Melaine Safka, Geeta Dutt and Farida Khanum; they will help you make sense of the city better.

1. Freemasons Lodge

The first Freemason lodge in the Indian subcontinent was built in Calcutta at the turn of the 17th century. The lodges in Karachi and Lahore were built later at the start of 20th century as part of a plan to expand the fraternity.

The secrecy surrounding the brotherhood resulted in speculation about their activities even in the earlier days – perhaps the reason the building was called ‘Jaadu Ghar’.

Freemasonry was banned in Pakistan during 1972, and the lodges in Karachi and Lahore were nationalised. The lodge in Karachi was later handed over to the WWF, and apparently, there are plans to turn it into a wildlife museum.

Located on the Din Mohammad Wafai Road, the Freemasons Lodge in Karachi is a beautiful edifice with large windows and a stunning wooden staircase at the entrance. Inside the building, close to the staircase, you'll be welcomed by old plaques and the brotherhood’s symbols.

Freemasons Lodge still retains its iconic freemasonry symbols.

The front facade's most impressive part is its wooden staircase.

On a casual Sunday, you may run into the old caretaker of the building, who lives in a tiny house inside the compound. He strongly rejects the idea that the brotherhood engaged in vile rituals. According to him, it was just another social forum and the members gathered there every evening for dinner.

2. Hindu Gymkhana

Continue your journey on the same road and make the next stop at Hindu Gymkhana. Built in 1925, the structure still retains it majestic look. The building was handed over to the National Academy of Performing Arts (Napa) in 2005 and has since been transformed into a fine institution for performing arts.

With the help of a newly built auditorium, Napa has brought the building back into public sphere, and is using it to offer some much-needed art and entertainment to the public.

The credit goes to Napa for bringing the Hindu Gymkhana building back in public sphere.

The original building was designed by Agha Ahmed Hussain.

The original structure was built as a recreation centre for Hindu elites in the city. It was designed by Agha Ahmed Hussain and was named after Ramgopal Gourdhanandh Mohatta who contributed generously for its construction.

3. Burns Garden – Sobhraj Chatumal Terrace and National Museum

Make your next stop in front of the National Museum. The sad state of the museum has put it out of favour with public attention, even though there is a dearth of good museums in the city. The place barely receives visitors even on a national holiday, when the museum arranges special exhibits for events like Independence Day, etc.

Burns Garden, in which the building is located, still has some age old trees which could be a source of delight in an area deprived of greenery. The compound also has a rarely visited but delightfully built terrace – the Sobhraj Chatumal Terrace.

Sobhraj Chatumal Terrace has an unusual layout for a park in Karachi.

A veiw of the Sobhraj Chatumal Terrace.

Sobhraj Chatumal terrace was a park funded by a philanthropist and businessman named Sobhraj Chatumal.

This terrace was built in 1927, way before the current building of the museum was built. Presumably, the terrace could be accessed separately from both ends of the garden, but it has been closed now. It was built in honour of businessman and philanthropist Sobhraj Chetumal, who had also built a dispensary and a maternity home in memory of his wife, Kishan Devi Sobhraj.

The park’s layout is unlike what I have seen elsewhere and fortunately, the renovation has not affected its original design, except for the original stone being replaced with cement blocks that have not been painted as yet.

It was originally meant to be a women’s park, but all you'd see here today are some children playing cricket.

4. DJ Science College and the principal’s bungalow

Leave your car in the museum’s parking lot and walk across the street to the DJ Science College. One of the most iconic buildings of the era, it is a reminder that the elites of yore were not detached from the masses and gave back to the city as much as they received from it.

The college was inaugurated on January 19, 1887, by Lord Reay, the Governor of Bombay, in a makeshift building before the present building’s foundation stone was laid by the Viceroy of India, Lord Dufferin, on November 19, 1887. It was built in neoclassical style and considered to be the finest work of James Strachan.

Try to negotiate with the caretaker and climb the staircase to one of the side towers. The view from the top is enchanting.

A view of the DJ Science college from the roof.

An inside view of the staircase leading to the top of the DJ Science College.

The DJ Science College had other buildings built as part of its compound. There is an elegant bunglow opposite the street, where the principal lives. With some luck, you could walk inside and see the glorious structure which is fit for a king.

The building has been renovated very well. The close-by Mitharam hostel was used for accommodating the out-of-town students of DJ Science and NED campuses, but sadly now, it is off-limits to public after it had been handed over to the Rangers.

A view of the prinicipal's bungalow from the DJ Science college.

The restoration work on the bungalow of the principal of DJ College is impressive, but it is yet to be seen if it will come back into the public sphere.

The principal's bungalow is fit for a king.

The view of the college from the bungalow's rooftop.

Someone once told me that there was a statue of Mitharam placed in the centre portico of DJ Science College, which was taken to the first floor and thrown out by students some time ago.

5. Botal Gali

Continue driving towards Pakistan Chowk. On your left, you will find Botal Gali, which is popular for its unique assortment of secondhand bottles and an increasingly diverse perfume collection. Walk from one end to another. You will find some old stone structures tucked between newly constructed flats.

Entrance to Botal Gali.

Bottles of all shapes and sizes.

6. Sevakunj Hostel and Aram Bagh

Turn right from Pakistan Chowk and keep walking leisurely, appreciating the craftsmanship on the buildings on either side of the road. This area, in particular, has stunningly crafted balconies. Right before Aram Bagh, you will see the Sevakunj Hostel building on your right hand.

The building is constructed in block fashion and has wide galleries. There are printing shops on the ground floor and you can negotiate with one of the shopkeepers to access the inside. The view from the central courtyard is fascinating. You will be able to see deserted balconies and rooms from the courtyard. In these very rooms, many foreign students stayed during their time at the NED University.

A leisurely walk in the Aram Bagh area is highly recommended.

The buildings around Aram Bagh are a visual treat.

Sevakunj Hostel was once a lively abode for foreign and out-of-station local students.

The hostel, which played such an important role in the lives of yesteryear generations, lies abandoned today.

The area was filled with temples once, but now the only visible landmark in Aram Bagh is a mosque.

Make a brief stop at Aram Bagh, which was an important area for Hindu pilgrims before the Partition. According to one legend, Ram and Sita made a brief stop here on their journey to the Hinglaj yatra. So understandably, they built a number of temples here, which gave way to new construction over time.

7. Kabootar Chowk

Drive straight ahead on Burns Road, cruising past all the eateries. Turn right from the crossroad and make a stop at Kabootar Chowk in front of Sindh High Court. You will find a few hawkers selling corn seeds to visitors.

Kabootar Chowk.

Buy some corn and walk towards the chowk. Here, once stood Mahatama Gandhi’s statue, which was handed over to Rustam Cowasjee after the Partition, who later gifted it to the Indian Embassy in Islamabad. The place is popular with families and on a Sunday, you will see lots of people sitting here idly and throwing corn to the pigeons.

Engage in the ritual. It could be therapeutic.

8. Gul Bai Maternity Home

Gul Bai Maternity home was built by Jamshed Nasserwanjee, the founder of modern day Karachi, in honour of her mother.

The place is reminiscent of the good old Karachi; a big courtyard, an impressive facade, and gracious neem trees. The maternity home here has been abandoned for some reason now, but it still retains its royal look. The first thing to catch your eye is a beautiful fountain in the middle. There is a plaque installed inside it, on which some one has thrown blue paint.

The Gul Bai maternity home is an aesthetically pleasing undertaking which has been abandoned as well.

The corridor has been painted blue, presumably later.

The main gate of the maternity home remains locked up.

The maternity home has a huge compound with some beautiful 'neem' trees.

There's still some basic furniture lying inside the maternity home.

The building is locked up, but you can have a look through the glass windows into the building. Some basic furniture is still lying inside. Someone once told me that the place is used for shooting commercials and could be rented.

9. Richmond Crawford Veterinary Hospital

In the Karachi of yore, the welfare of animals was a big concern as well. The Richmond Crawford Veterinary Hospital on M.A. Jinnah road is evidence of the fact. It was named after Richmond Crawford, commissioner of Sindh in 1840s, who was known for his efforts for the welfare of animals.

The place had been associated with Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals (SCBA), which was founded in 1880 by eminent Karachiites such as Khan Bahadur Hassanally, Beg Effendi. Sayed Hassan Mediru, Tance Denso and Mr Framroze. The society helped raise awareness of animal welfare among citizens and played a pivotal role in the enforcement of laws protecting animal rights.

Richmond Crawford is still an active vet hospital.

R. Crawford was the commissioner of Sindh in the 1840s.

A corridor at the hospital.

The building is rather humble but possesses the characteristic elegance of the bygone era. It has been repainted, and flashy tiles have been put in, affecting its authentic look. Thankfully, the hospital is still functional and resident doctors continue to treat animals which are brought from nearby areas.

10. Khaliq Deena Hall

Khaliq Deena Hall has to be one of the most beautiful buildings on M.A. Jinnah road. With its high podium, tall pillars and Grecian-style pediment, it catches your eye from a distance.

It was named in honour of Ghulam Hussain Khaliq Deena, a Khoja businessman and philanthropist, who contributed generously for the construction of the building as a public hall and library.

The library is rather modest, but the hall is still used for hosting religious and cultural events. The hall is historically significant as a symbol of resistance against the British rule. It is where the Trial of Sedition took place in which the British government indicted Maulana Muhammad Ali Jauhar for mutiny as an aftermath of the civil disobedience movement, for saving the Turkish Khilafat.

Khaliq Deena Hall in all its majesty.

The inside hall is used for holding community events.

With its unique setting of pillars and pediment Khaliq Deena Hall catches your eye from a distance.

11. Merewether Tower and Wazir Mansion

Drive to the end of Bunder Road and make a brief stop at Merewether Tower. It was designed by James Strachan and built between 1884 and 1892 in honour of Sir William L. Merewether, Commissioner of Sindh from 1867 to 1877. The larger bell at the top was designed to announce the hour mark, while the smaller bells rang at each quarter.

The impact of pollution on the edifice is visible. Dirt is stuck between the elegantly crafted motifs. Someone painted one side of the wall with anti-Israel graffiti, possibly the reason why the gatekeeper is hesitant to let anyone inside.

Merewether Tower has some interesting motifs and designs on its exterior.

Leave your car there and enter the narrow streets of Kharadar, where the Wazir Mansion is located. Look for Barkati Street (formerly Chaghla Street). Ask people for directions to Wazir Mansion. Get lost for a bit in the maze of streets. The buildings here are one of the oldest in the city. With some trial and error, you should be able to reach Wazir Mansion in 15 minutes.

A shopkeeper opens his shop in the vicinity of Wazir Mansion.

Park your car in one of the streets near Tower and walk on foot towards Wazir Mansion.

A walk around Wazir Mansion is a must.

Jinnah Poonja, Muhamamd Ali Jinnah’s father, rented a two-room apartment in this building when he migrated to Karachi in 1874. M.A. Jinnah, his eldest son was born here in 1876. Jinnah stayed in this very building until 1892, when he left for London to pursue higher studies. The building was named after a later resident who purchased it at the turn of the century.

The lanes are narrow at many points and only a biker could pass through.

Wazir Mansion was restored a few years back and has a functional museum with Jinnah's belongings on display.

12. Flagstaff House

One of the earlier buildings designed by Moses Somake, Flagstaff house is a beauty to behold. One of the few well-maintained edifices of stone masonry in the city, a visit to Flagstaff is a must for any tourist. The building has well-curated front and back lawns. It is accessible from Avari Towers via Fatima Bonus Road.

The house was built in 1890. Mr Jinnah purchased it in 1944 from the Kartak Family. Although Jinnah spent only a few days in this house, Miss Fatima Jinnah lived here from 1948 to 1964.

The building was restored and declared a museum in 1985. You will find Jinnah’s personal belongings inside the house, which were brought from his house in Mumbai.

The Flagstaff house is one of the earliest of Moses Somake's work.

The arches and the corridors are a distinctive element of this building.

There is still much more to the city 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 folly of generalising a statement about this city of more than 20 million people.

Long live Karachi!

When I first moved to the United States to pursue my university level education, I was surprised to see the two extremes of Pakistanis living here.

On one hand were those who classified themselves as “South Asians”, so that they may shed their perceived baggage of the word 'Pakistan'; on the other hand were the excessively emotional defenders of Pakistan, who blamed the West for every challenge that Pakistan faces, even if the roots of certain problems might be totally internal.

However, amidst these two categories, were those responsible Pakistanis who have achieved a high level of success and respect in the West, yet their hearts continue to “bleed green”.

Such are the Pakistanis who have been a great connect between the two countries, and they have made immense contributions in all fields and professions across the United States.

Read through: A Punjabi in New York: Juggling multiple identities

On top of the numerous great physicians spread across the country, Dr Teepu Siddique is a prominent name in medicine. Since 1991, he has been serving as a Director of Neuromuscular Medicine and the Les Turner ALS Foundation Laboratory at Northwestern University; his colleagues firmly believe that “it’s not a question of ‘if’, rather, a question of ‘when’ he will be awarded the Nobel Prize”.

Michael Chowdry and Shahid Khan are famous names in business. Chowdry was the founder of $1.39 billion air cargo company known as Atlas Air and Khan now controls majority shares of the NFL team Jacksonville Jaguars.

In politics and governance, Sada Cumber served as the first US Ambassador to the OIC, Shirin Kheli served in various important posts at the White House and at the State Department, Ziad Alahdad served as the Director of Operations for the World Bank, while Pamela Leeming, a Christian Pakistani American, serves as a judge in Cook County, which happens to be the second largest county in the country.

In academia too, Pakistani professors are making a great mark and are teaching at prestigious American universities; the list includes Dr Hasan Abbas (National Defense University), Ambassador Touqir Husain (Johns Hopkins University), Professor Akbar Ahmed (American University), Dr Atif Mian (Princeton), Dr. Ayesha Jalal (Tufts University) and Dr Amir Sufi (University of Chicago) among others.

Apart from the above fields, many Pakistani names also appear in the arts, sports and entertainment industry in the US amongst others, Shazia Sikander of New York specialises in South Asian and Persian painting; Nadia Ali is a vocalist of electronic dance music and best known for her song Rapture; Kumail Nanjiani is a famous comedian, actor and podcast host; Farhan Zaidi is the general manager for the baseball team Los Angeles Dodgers; and, Nur Ali is a former two-time Southwest Formula Mazda Series Champion.

Also read: Ten Pakistanis doing great things for America

While most, if not all, known and responsible Pakistanis already pay back to their native Pakistan, there is a dire need to synergise and institutionalise the community’s efforts.

A great first step in the right direction is the Convention of Pakistani American Community (CPAC) – an initiative launched by Ambassador Jalil Abbas Jilani and his team of four forward-looking Consul Generals based in New York, Chicago, Houston and Los Angeles, to gather successful Pakistanis from across the US to convene for a daylong forum at the Pakistan Embassy in Washington, DC to discuss the direction that the community should be channelising its efforts toward.

Two weeks ago, I was a part of CPAC’s second annual meeting, where community members rightly discussed the need for Pakistani Americans to leverage their individual political contacts with members of the US Congress and others, to advance our collective national interests.

—Photo by author.

There is no better time to pursue active personal and community-level diplomacy than the months leading up to the US presidential election. In a country where the political system is so prone to lobbying, such efforts are not optional, rather a must.

Statistics show that Pakistani Americans are already doing better than the average Americans. According to a report by Migration Policy Institute, 23 per cent of Pakistanis who live in the US and are at least 25 years old have an advanced degree (Master’s, PhD or a professional degree), as compared to only 11 per cent of the general US population.

Moreover, households headed by Pakistanis have a $10,000 higher income than the median of all US households.

But the question then is:

Despite having such an affluent and well-educated community, why is it that Pakistan’s national interests continue to suffer in the US?

In my interactions with Pakistani Americans over the past few years, I have seen the amount of differences, ego issues, and hatreds that exist between certain factions of the community. But the problem is not the differences – in fact, we can, and perhaps should, have healthy disagreements.

The thing we should be careful about is that these differences do not stop us from engaging with each other and should not hamper our ability to see broader, national objectives, which we can be jointly advanced despite disagreements.

And in doing this, let’s never forget how important it is to engage with those members of our community who work the hardest, earn the lowest, and still remain faithful in their love for Pakistan.

See: How affluent are the Pakistani-Americans?

An excellent initiative in this regard is the Pakistani Cab Drivers Association of Chicago, which aims to bring all Pakistani cab drivers under an umbrella of a single organisation to promote collective interests and instill institutional-mindedness in our community.

Ultimately, we have to realise that foreign policy is not purely about foreign office. Rather, it’s a derivative of various factors, including people-to-people, commercial and institutional relationships that we all have the responsibility to cultivate between the universities, entertainment centres, academic/literary societies and businesses of the two countries.

A successful example is the exchange program between NUST and George Mason University, which was made possible as a result of efforts by Siddique Sheikh, founder of the Pakistan American Business Association (PABA).

That said, we should be aware of the fact that we tend to lose momentum of great conventions and gatherings rather quickly. It is crucial that both the Pakistani diplomats and community members convert the optimism and momentum generated by CPAC ’15 into practical, on-the-ground changes.

In fact, it would be great if Pakistani embassies in other countries where our large diaspora communities are settled (such as the UK, Canada and UAE) were also to adopt this idea of the CPAC.

But when it comes to interacting with global audiences, we have to realise that we are all Pakistan’s ambassadors-at-large, and foremost, it is our conduct, values and character, that will speak larger than any words from our embassies.

As Rumi famously said, “We are not a drop in the ocean, we are the entire ocean in a drop.”

I believe, we all have tremendous potential to make a difference. Let’s start thinking strategically and institutionally. Let’s all agree to contribute our fair share.

Let’s all put Pakistan first.

http://images.dawn.com/news/1174074/how-pakistani-morning-shows-are-keeping-women-where-they-belong

Last year, the world was fixated upon India when the general elections brought to power Narendra Modi, the former chief minister of the prosperous Indian state of Gujarat.

Enthusiasts didn't tire of pointing out at the time that the story of Indian democracy could not have gotten any better; the new premier used to sell tea as a young boy at a stall at a local railway station, so the system was inclusive alright.

Many surmised that the days of socio-economic schisms were numbered in India, and that Modi would be the leader that rids the country of its problems once and for all.

The message was loud and clear: The saffron tide cometh and with it, prosperity and greatness too.

A year and a half on, though, that very tide has taken a deadly turn, and it threatens to engulf the entire Indian society.

Of course, the first casualty of such a turning tide is always the Pakistan-India peace process.

After extending an olive branch towards Pakistan at the time of the new government’s inauguration, the Bharatiya Janata Party’s (BJP) line has quickly switched to a much more extremist tenor.

Charged rhetoric aside, escalation in violence along the Pakistan-India border over the past months has resulted in loss of innocent lives, and the radical bandwagon in India does not seem to be slowing down anytime soon.

The second casualty, of course, is cricket.

Pakistan-bashing is lucrative

Emboldened by the government’s actions, members of Shiv Sena (the extremist Indian organisation notoriously remembered for digging up the pitch in Agra in 2003), stormed the BCCI headquarters on Monday to disrupt a meeting between the Pakistani and Indian cricket officials scheduled to discuss the bilateral series that had been shelved following skirmishes along the Line of Control (LoC).

Such is the threat from the far-right elements within India that Aleem Dar, the exceptional cricket umpire hailing from Pakistan, has been relieved of his officiating duties for the upcoming India-South Africa match, lest he become the target of the anti-Pakistan sentiment.

Today, Shoaib Akhtar and Wasim Akram met the same end.

No sooner had that happened when Shiv Sena's threats extended to Fawad Khan and Mahira Khan, Pakistani actors currently in India for film projects.

Meanwhile, reports are pouring in that this year's Kabaddi World Cup, previously scheduled to be held in India, has now been cancelled.

Last week, Sudheendra Kulkarni, himself a member of the BJP, was publicly shamed and covered with black soot and ink when he organised a book launch for former Pakistani Foreign Minister, Khurshid Kasuri.

Earlier, the legendary artist Ghulam Ali was denied entry into India citing his Pakistani identity.

Pakistan-bashing apparently reaps many benefits, electoral or otherwise, and the far right in India is counting on that.

An unsurprising radicalism

Domestically, the Muslim community in India is having a tough time under the BJP government as well.

In a tragic incident, a Muslim resident of Uttar Pradesh, Mohammed Akhlaq, was lynched by a mob that alleged he had consumed cow meat, since cows are considered holy animals in Hinduism.

Beef has always been a thorny issue between the Muslim and Hindu communities in India, but the tensions over the beef ban have peaked in the past few days, and there is possibility of even more violence erupting.

In Akhlaq's case, it turned out the poor guy was not having beef, but mutton. Additionally, it took weeks for Modi – who becomes emotional remembering his childhood struggles but conveniently forgets about the plight of other Indians – to address this incident.

See: How Narendra Modi helped spread anti-beef hysteria

It’s not just the Muslim community who is suffering from governance under the Modi-led BJP government. A few weeks ago, the Patel community – instrumental towards Modi’s rise to premiership – found itself face-to-face with a government bent on sparing no rods in dealing with frustrated Patel protesters.

Before Modi took oath of office, many were wary of his extremist past. However, the Twitter-friendly, kurta-wearing, camera-tracking, cheerleader-in-chief assuaged some dissenting voices through political showboating focused more on spectacle rather than substance.

The current outbreak of radicalism in India shouldn't be surprising. After all, how should the same person who presided over one of the worst incidents of communal violence in recent memory now somehow turn compassionate towards the affected once elected to the country's highest political office?

Also read: Green and saffron: The colours of division in India

If there is one lesson to learn from history, it’s that charismatic leaders have done more harm than good in their respective countries, and the Indian audience just seems to be realising the same.

The way radicalism – played out along caste and religious lines – is rearing its ugly head in Indian society, many are worried about the future.

Of course, there remain sane voices in India to identify the abyss of radicalism which the Indian society seems to be staring into. But when the hawks are having a feast, with the vultures in close proximity, it is unsurprising that the doves have decided to stay quiet for now.

This silence, however, will do nothing to impede India’s slide into radicalism.

The tide indeed cometh, but instead of being a hue of soothing saffron, it is a menacing, bloody red.

There is history and then there is the memory of history. While history is preserved in annals, its memory comes down to generations through the interplay of culture, traditions and oral accounts.

Every significant event ever unfolded on the face of the earth is temporal in a sense that it occurs in a particular time-space setting, and at the same time, eternal, because of its sheer ability to recreate itself over and over again.

While the temporal aspect is discrete and entrenched in time, determining the course of succeeding events, the eternal aspect is pliable and serves as a cornerstone in times to come, in order to make sense of the past, reconcile with the present, and map out the future.

When it comes to tragedy, the memory can overshadow the event itself. Memory is human, all too human. History is not.

Karbala is memory. Such is the timelessness of the memory that the howl of Karbala still echoes in the air after all these centuries.

Such is the versatility of the symbolism attached to it that it has attracted poets, mourners, mystics, revolutionaries, devotees and writers alike.

Such is the appeal of the tragedy that Karbala has become a significant constituent of the cultural construct of the subcontinent.

How Karbala captured the mystics

Mysticism has been at the roots of the South Asian cultural edifice since the days of the arrival of Muslim saints (Sufis) to the Indian soil.

Wahdat al-Wajood (Doctrine of Immanence), theoretically developed by Ibn Arabi, took roots in the Indian soil because it was more Indian in character. The cry of “Ana al-Haqq” (I am Truth) raised by Mansur Hallaj on the gallows reverberated through the Muslim world and inspired people in distant lands. It was a cry of “Fana fi’llah” (annihilation in the Divine) in order to attain subsistence in God (Baqa bi’llah).

Karbala, in this particular Sufi tradition, is not mourned but celebrated because of annihilation of the physical self into the Divine.

While the commemoration of Karbala emphasises the trials and tribulations faced by Prophet Muhammad’s (Peace be Upon Him) family, the mystic celebration deals with the spiritual outcome of this particular event. The martyrdom for the will and the love for the Divine attains the highest status in this realm.

Khuwaja Moinuddin Chishti points to the same notion when he majestically says:

“Haqqa ke bina-e la illah ast Hussain”

(The truth is that the foundation of la-illah is Hussain)

Shah Abdul Latif Bhittai mourns and celebrates Karbala in his magnum opus “Shah Jo Risalo” in the same tradition:

“Martyrs’ tribulation is God’s grace
Only the intoxicated may fathom the mystery of the case of Karbala”
[Sur Kedaro, Shah Jo Risalo]

Mansur and Hussain are celebrated in the same vein within this particular tradition.

In the realm of music, the indigenous musical tradition, qawwali, is particularly important in weaving musical notes in service of the concept of “fana”. For centuries, qawwals have celebrated the mystical aspect of Karbala in the verandas of Sufi shrines.

It is the same tradition taken up by the modern prophet of qawwali, Ustad Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan. He is well aware of the context when he uses interpolation during one of his performances and rhetorically asks questions firmly entrenched and answered in the subcontinent’s mystical ethos:

“Kyun piya Ibn e Haider ne Jaam e Fana
Khaal Khichwai Tabraiz ne kyun bhala
Daar pe charh ke Mansur ne kya kaha
Sub bana ke khilonay raha tu hi tu”

(Why did Ibn e Haider drink hemlock?
Why was Tabraiz stripped off of his skin?
What did Mansur say on the gallows?
Despite all that you’ve created, it is only you who actually exist)

How it found roots in Urdu poetry

Apart from shaping the mystical tradition in South Asia, Karbala has enriched Urdu poetry as well. The “marsiya” has come to be an inseparable part of Urdu poetic tradition.

The modern marsiya traces its roots to Awadh in northern India. With the advent of the 18th century, the Mughal empire was weaker than ever before and this gave rise to semi-autonomic states.

Awadh was one of them. Dabeer and Anis are the two most important luminaries of modern marsiya, who wrote marsiyas in the Awadh tradition. Marsiya depicted the memory of Karbala in indigenous South Asian imagery.

Rich in imagination, tragic in content, magnificent in diction; the marsiyas from Awadh not only capture the seventh century butchery at Karbala, but also underscore the socio-political conditions of 17th century India.

In the background of the burgeoning state of Awadh, there was a decadent Mughal empire losing its legitimacy increasingly.

The doom and gloom in much of the Urdu poetry of the 18th and 19th century is the precursor of a social contract soon to be gone with the wind. It was in this particular historical setting that Karbala metamorphosed from a metaphor of mourning to an embodiment of revolution.

A formidable empire was soon to take the place of a decadent one.

The elite was unable to fathom the reality of changing times. Satyajit Ray has brilliantly captured this phenomenon in his landmark 1978 movie “Shatranj Ke Khilari” [The Chess Players].

The first critique on the elitist nature of Urdu literature, and on Ghazal in particular, came from Altaf Hussain Hali, who called for a fundamental change in this attitude.

The world had dynamically changed and things had moved well beyond the typical beloved of Urdu poetry. The Progressive Movement took shape in 1930s and took upon itself to change the course of literature in line with the anti-imperialist left-oriented ideology and needs of modern times.

Karbala has influenced writers and poets inside and outside this movement alike: Faiz, Mahindra Singh Bedi, Munshi Premchand, Makhdoom Muhayuddin, Faraz, Josh Malihabadi, Ali Sardar Jafri, to name a few.

The seeming paradox as to how to reconcile the Marxist ideology – having nothing in common with the language of religion, and is at times, quite antipathetic to it – with an event of obvious religious overtones, is perhaps not as ironical as it seems on the surface.

Karbala transcends any one context

All the modern ideologies, like nationalism, Marxism, anti-colonialism and socialism come from the West. It was a very peculiar socio-political European ethos which gave rise to these ideologies.

The secularised elite in colonised parts of the world – Muslim in particular – found themselves in a quandary in terms of how to communicate this particular lingo to the masses who carried the baggage of an altogether different civilisation.

It was a gigantic task to communicate modern nationalism in a part of the world where poets considered themselves as “Ghareeb ul Watan” [exiled] when they left a city for another.

This is where culture and religion come into play.

This is where we see Gandhi putting up a formidable resistance to colonialism, rooted in Indian culture. This is where we see Jinnah appealing to the religious sensibilities of Indian Muslims. This is, exactly where Karbala becomes a part of universal Marxist ideology.

Probably nothing can explain this particular phenomenon better than this simple verse written by Iqbal:

“Mauj hai darya mein aur bairoon e darya kuch nahi”

(The wave is only in the ocean, outside, it is nothing)

Acutely aware of his delicate position as a Muslim reformer and well-versed in Eastern mysticism and Western philosophy, Iqbal was one of those earliest intellectuals who tried to universalise the memory of Karbala by making it trans-sectarian and trans-communal.

Influenced by Iqbal, there were still a few decades to pass when Dr Ali Shariati was to map out the ideological foundations of the Iranian revolution by utilising the Karbala imagery. Iqbal says the truth is transcendent, while the nature of oppressors and hypocrites keeps changing:

“Haqeeqat e Abadi hai maqam e Shabbiri
Badalte rehtay hein andaz e Koofi o Shaami”

(The station of Hussain is the eternal truth
They ways of the (hypocrites) of Kufa and Syria are ever changing)

Within the tradition of The Progressive Movement, writers and poets have borrowed significantly from the memory of Karbala in their struggle against colonial and postcolonial injustice.

See: Karbala as a poetic metaphor and Iftikhar Arif

In the backdrop of deteriorating communal relationship, Munshi Premchand wrote a drama named ‘Karbala’ in order to bridge the gap between Indian Muslims and Hindus.

Ali Sardar Jafri gives “Al-Atash (I thirst!)”, a burning cry emanating from Hussain’s camp in Karbala altogether a new meaning by transforming it into a universal symbol of distress:

“Phir Al-Atash ki hai sada
Jesay rijz ka zamzama
Phir raig e sehraa par rawan
Hai ahl e dil ka karwan
Nehr e Furaat atish bjan
Ravi o Ganga khoon chukan
Ae Karbala! Ae Karbala!”

(Again the cry, “I thirst!” is heard
Like a fountain of thundering war hymns.
Again the caravans of people of the heart,
Are moving across the desert sand.
The river Euphrates flows with fire
The Ravi and the Ganges, stream with blood.
O Karbala! O Karbala!)

It is no coincidence that Makhdoom Muhayuddin invokes the martyrdom of Hussain and Jesus of Nazareth while paying his tribute to the rights activist, Dr Martin Luther King Jr. after his assassination on the evening of April 4, 1968:

“Hai sham sham-e-ghareeban, hai subha subha-e-Hunain
Yeh qatl qatl-e-Masiha, yeh qatl qatl-e-Hussain”

(This dusk is the “dusk of the dispossessed”, this dawn the “dawn of Hunain”
This is the murder of the Messiah, this is the murder of Hussain)

So much has changed in our times. Mystics lie in their graves and have ceased to be a potent social voice.

Progressives seem to be worn out after all these years of continual struggle in the face of tyranny and oppression.

Or perhaps, nothing has changed.

The turn of the century has brought horrors upon religious minorities in Pakistan. From metaphysical metaphor and poetic symbols of revolution, the resilient memory of Karbala is increasingly transforming itself into a symbol of endurance in the face of violent militancy in our times.

History might be dead, but the memory is alive; after all these centuries, still alive. Because memory is human, all too human.

Obaidullah Aleem was well ahead of his time when he wrote these verses in the most prophetic manner:

“Is Qafilay ne dekh liya hai Karbala ka din
Ab reh gaya hai Shaam ka bazaar dekhna”

(The caravan has already seen the day of Karbala
It is the bazaar of Syria that is yet to be seen)

Bibliography

• Reliving Karbala: Martyrdom in South Asian Memory: Syed Akbar Haider (2006)
  
• Sufis of Sindh: Dr Motilal Jotwani (1986)
  
• The Age of Extremes: The Short Twentieth Century, 1914-1991: Eric Hobsbawm (1994)

Related:

• The criterion of Karbala
  
• Spirit of Karbala
  

Beautiful lawn prints. That was my biggest drive behind going to Peshawar. Seeing my Peshawari friends wear those ready-made shirts, which were rapidly finding their way to the stores, I decided to spend a weekend in Peshawar.

The journey from Islamabad to Peshawar is roughly two-and-a-half to three hours long. Your arrival in the city is welcomed by the Fort Bala Hisar, which I was unable to capture with the camera (I was told that stopping the car at that point may not be seen favourably by the security guys).

The Fort is closed off to civilians, and along with all the important buildings that follow, was very heavily guarded. Once you cross the checkpoints, you enter a cantonment, and the beauty of a Cantt area is that it is the same everywhere, so that is one part of all Pakistani cities I have already seen.

Shortly after some rest, we made our way towards Shafi Market, Saddar. We crossed Mall Road on the way and I could not resist taking a picture of the Dawn office, which looked very surreal in that moment.

Dawn Office, Mall Road.

Entering Saddar.

Saddar.

Cloth vendor near Shafi Market.

Cloth vendor near Shafi Market.

A street vendor in Saddar.

Saddar.

Entering Saddar, you will notice the London Book Company, a beautiful little bookshop painted in a blue that you wouldn’t normally appreciate. There is also a haveli situated behind this block of Saddar, which shares its boundaries with a church and a school. You can catch glimpses of it through the gaps between the shops.

London Book Company, Saddar.

Saddar, leaving Shafi Market.

Saddar, main road.

People walking in the rain on the university road.

Hayatabad.

Having parked our vehicle, we headed towards the heart of the market. I would describe this market as a cross between Ichhra and Anarkali in Lahore, but with better variety and prices!

After spending a considerable amount of time picking out bed sheets and shirt pieces and beautiful laces, we started making our way back to the car.

Here is a tip: take someone who speaks Pashto when you go shopping, as the shopkeepers tend to charge Urdu speakers more than normal. In my case, thankfully, my friend’s mother was there to help me with that.

The next morning, we made our way to Islamia College, and what a stunning campus it has.

It was Sunday, so unfortunately, most of the buildings were locked, but my friend’s father arranged for a VIP tour of the place, and I could not have been more grateful.

Islamia College, Peshawar.

Corridor, administrative wing, Islamia College, Peshawar.

Administrative block, Islamia College.

Islamia College, Peshawar.

Islamia College, Peshawar.

It was a treat to be strolling across the magnificent and green campus; from the hostels to the clock tower, to the mini gardens and the grand arches and the gargoyles guarding the rain drains, and on to the many fountains and fairy paths. As luck would have it, it was drizzling that day, so everything appeared lush and refreshing.

Inside the college premises is a white masjid; beautiful and peaceful beyond words. When we went out onto the main lawns, I was told that the building I was viewing was the same one that is printed on Pakistan's thousand-rupee note. The grand architecture demands attentive viewing.

The 1000-rupee note in the foreground with the building it carries in the background.

White Masjid, Islamia College, Peshawar.

One of the many tiny water canals on campus.

Another water canal designed as a seating spot.

Water fountain.

Gargoyle-guarded rain drain.

We also saw the house that my host family had spent a lot of their childhood in, before they all shifted to a new place, and it looked like a scene out of a storybook.

Peshawar is a small city, so I covered most of it in a day, but three things I feel really deserve a mention are:

Central Perk
Jan’s Deli
Charsi Tikka

The first one on that list is just a namesake of the coffeehouse in Friends (the TV show) and other than the board, bears no similarity to it.

Jan’s Deli is a must try. It served as the perfect setting to the rainy night we were about to end.

Charsi Tikka is also a must have. An absolute must. We brought it home and had it for dinner, and it was absolutely scrumptious. For those who grew up in the Middle East, it is a very close relative of the ‘Mishkaak’, which should be reason enough to try it, though the tikka might be much better tasting.

Central Perk.

Central Perk.

Jan's Deli.

'The' Charsi Tikka.

The weekend ended before I could go to the Bara and Sitara Market and all that that part of the city has to offer. Given the kind of stories I hear about the treasures they hold, I can’t wait to spend another weekend in Peshawar.

India's far-right political party Shiv Sena has been known to make headlines for its rhetoric against Pakistan, but the radical group has now gone above and beyond any anti-Pakistan sentiments that have ever been expressed before.

Along with protests and showering ink on those seen as supportive of Pakistan, Shiv Sena have announced their objection to Mahira and Fawad Khan’s presence in India, along with any Pakistani cricketer or performer. The only exception being made is child activist Malala Yousufzai.

“Malala is different, she is not a terrorist, she has been fighting terrorism,” a representative from Shiva Sena said.

When reminded that Mahira and Fawad were not terrorists either, the party was quick to clarify that, “We did not ban those two because we think they are terrorists or linked to terrorism. We banned them because of Humsafar”.

“I mean it’s a story about a man who sits by as his wife is thrown out, has his child, and returns to him for help with her health bills, only to find out that he’s a misogynist jerk who could care less. The woman then forgives him in the end and we all find out that it’s his mother who is evil - it is literally the worst drama we have ever seen!” he added.

While outlining Shiv Sena's “feminist political leanings”, the representative said, “We are suffering from so many problems courtesy patriarchy that we honestly don’t need any more from Pakistani actors”.

Also read: BREAKING — PTA to ban Saif Ali Khan everywhere

Mahira is all set to make her debut alongside Shah Rukh Khan in ‘Raees’, while Fawad is working on multiple projects starring some of the best names in Bollywood.

“If Humsafar had shown Mahira giving him the boot and moving on to make something out of her life instead of playing the damsel in distress our reaction would have been different. Unfortunately, this was just one more drama where the women are evil or insane and the man had done no wrong despite it all being his fault!” he lamented.

‘Stop throwing ink yaar’

Meanwhile, anti-Pakistan actor Saif Ali Khan has spoken out against Shiv Sena’s antics.

“I remember the time when I said that I was disappointed in Pakistan and everyone lost their s***, and here they are throwing ink all over the place,” he decried, while talking to media.

Saif appealed to Shiv Sena, “to rein it in or else Pakistan will ban more of our movies. For the love of Bollywood, stop before it’s too late!”

DISCLAIMER: The above article is a work of satire.

A rose by any other name would smell as sweet. But, will it smell as sweet with another spelling?

Spelling matters in writing, and even more so in record-keeping. But not in Pakistan, where misspelling nouns is a national sport.

Elsewhere, variant spellings of the same word are common. However, variant spellings of the name of the same person or town are uncommon. In Pakistan, however, it’s a different “storey.”

I came face-to-face with our dyslexia when I tried to obtain my father's death certificate. His first name was Ajaz. I spelled it for the benefit of the administration assistants working at the hospitals and various municipal offices.

They instead took it merely as a suggestion and issued documents with their preferred spellings of my deceased father’s name. These included Ijaz, Ejaz, and Aijaz, to name a few.

It may sound unimportant, but spelling mistakes can impose significant economic costs in the world that is increasingly relying on analytics.

Take retail-banking fraud as an example. An individual can have fraudulent documents issued with variant spellings, e.g., Umer and Umar. When new documentation, such as a bank account, is created using the existing documents in Urdu, applicants can use any spelling of their liking in English.

This would pose serious hardships in fraud detection, when the same person walks around with multiple identification documents made possible by variant spellings.

I decided to test my hypothesis about the spelling challenges of Pakistanis. It so happened that I got my hands on a data set that was available online for a brief time. The data set included the names and other details of 15,176 members of the armed forces who had died in the line of duty. Also included was the city district of the deceased’s origin.

A quick analysis of the data set revealed that spelling Campbellpur has been a real change for Pakistanis. No wonder they changed its name to Attock because the nation was stuck getting the spellings right for the city named after Sir Colin Campbell.

I used Open Refine software to deal with misspelled cities. The raw data set listed 450 cities as the city of origin. After running several clustering algorithms to identify and correct misspelled names, I was able to reduce the number of cities to 204. So imagine, almost every town in the database, relatively speaking, had a misspelled variant.

It came as no surprise that the most frequently listed city of origin, 1,393 to be precise, of the deceased soldiers was Rawalpindi.

The garrison city is at the centre of the arid districts that have historically been for the lack of agriculture the primary catchment for military’s recruitment. Following Rawalpindi was Poonch (Punch), a small town in Azad Jammu and Kashmir. What is interesting about this data is the disproportionately large number of deceased soldiers, relative to the town’s population, belonging to AJK (Azad Kashmir). This, however, is a subject for another blog.

When it comes to typographical errors, I find the space between two words in a composite noun to be the biggest challenge. It generates several variants of the same name. For instance, Mirpur and Mir Pur are the most common alternative spellings of the city of which only one is correct.

Another challenge is the abbreviations used at times and not the other. For instance, D I Khan and Dera Ismail Khan refer to the same town in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa. If the data set is inconsistent, where names are spelled out at times and not the others, one would have a tough time analysing the data.

It turns out Pakistanis are not the only ones struggling with spellings. I live in Mississauga, a suburban town bordering Toronto. Note that the town’s name includes four 's', which also results in several misspelled variants.

Over in the UK, the BBC reported that spelling mistakes cost millions in lost online sales. Charles Duncombe, an online entrepreneur, analysed website sales and found that “a single spelling mistake can cut online sales in half”.

Researchers have also studied typographical errors and their impact on the economy. Prudential Insurance Company, for instance, faced the prospect of losing millions after a typo in the mortgage documents. Other challenges arise from the different ways a word is spelled in the British and American English, e.g., color versus colour.

Given that most town and person names in Pakistan are not native words or expressions in English, a lack of consistency in spellings will always be a challenge.

This, however, should not be a source of confusion, and certainly should not open doors for graft and organised crime where the miscreants either hide behind deliberately misspelled names or avoid conviction because of it.

Lahore, one of the most flamboyant and pulsating cities of Pakistan, hosts a few iconic buildings of Shia Islam. Nestled in the midst of the walled city's network of narrow and bustling streets are the old and distinctive imambargahs: Nisar haveli, Mubarak haveli and Maatam Siraai.

In search of these imambargahs, I entered the vibrant and crowded street of Mochi gate, leading to 'Mohallah Shia’an Kashmirian'. The area is known for its imambargahs and Shia community and culture.

The streets are lined with shops displaying alams and shabeehs (pictures) of Shia Imams. Dressed in black, men, women and children can be seen going to these many imambargahs and places for majalis.

The clanging of big sabeel cauldrons is heard at every corner, where flavoured milk and sherbets are served round the clock. These sabeels are decorated with flowers and alams to mark the occasion.

Mochi gate entrance. —Taimur Shamil

Balconies with wooden work in Mohalla Shian Kashmirian. —Photo by Abdullah Khan

Stalls with 'alams' and relics for Moharram processions. —Taimur Shamil

Tahir Malik, my friend and a senior journalist had grown up in the walled city, and offered to show me all the renowned imambargahs, including Mubarak haveli and Nisar haveli, both of which are located in the same 'Mohallah Shia’an Kashmirian'.

Walking through narrow alleyways, we approached Mubarak haveli's large, wooden and green front gate, from where, a tapered corridor with whitewashed brick walls led us to the inner courtyard.

Inside Mubarak 'haveli' imambargah. —Taimur Shamil

The passage way leading to the courtyard in Mubarak 'haveli'. —Taimur Shamil

Mubarik 'haveli' Imambargah. —Photo by Abdullah Khan

The minaret of the Mubarik haveli from the courtyard. —Photo by Abdullah Khan

It was a big courtyard, and had the feel of a timeworn lifestyle about it. The floor was covered with rectangular stone tiles. On the other side, the courtyard opened into a heavily incensed living area. The walls were painted brick red. The top floor had wooden arches while the ground floor had vaulted wooden windows. Green ivies and bushy shrubs dangled on the red wall.

From that area, we were led into a huge open area by our host Mr Mansoor Ali Qazalbash. This place had white marble walls and lofty arches, with a small square clean water pond having lampposts around it. It had black alams lining the wall on one side, and a four feet silver ta’zia with intricate engravings.

A wooden pulpit at Nisar 'haveli' where the 'Zakir' (scholar/orator) sits and addresses the mourners. —Taimur Shamil

The wooden green balconies where the caretakers of Nisar 'haveli' live. —Taimur Shamil

Silver and gold coated Alams at the Nisar haveli. —Photo by Abdullah Khan

Inside the Nisar haveli ImamBargah. —Photo by Abdullah Khan

Even though Mubarak haveli and Nisar haveli lie adjacent to each other and were once owned by a single family, they are now under the ownership of two separate members of the same family.

Mubarak haveli was constructed by Nawab Ali Raza in 1863. Today, the haveli is looked after by Mr Mansoor Ali Qazalbash, his great grandson.

Mr Qazalbash told us, “Nawab sahab had come from Azerbaijan to Lahore through Afghanistan and settled here. At that time, Mohalla Shia’an Kashmirian was already a predominantly Shia community, but gradually, this haveli attained the status of the main gathering place for all of them.”

In his ancestors’ times, there was an ardent ritual of frequent pilgrimages to Najaf, and some of his forefathers had breathed their last in Najaf.

In my search for another renowned imambargah, I discovered the Maatam Siraai Imambargah, where the custodian, Mr Jafar Ali Shah, received and greeted me. He told us that his forefathers were Syeds from Kashmir and had migrated to Lahore.

Maatam Siraai is 500 years old, which makes it the oldest imambargah in Lahore. Shia devotees coming from Kashmir to Najaf used to stay here on their way, thus giving it the name Maatam Siraai.

While in Mohallah Shia’an Kashmirian, I couldn’t help notice the cleanliness in the streets, which is an uncommon thing in the old city. I was told that it was made possible by the combined efforts of the local government and people, who wanted a clean area for Moharram gatherings.

Agha Zulfiqar, an elderly man of the area, told me, “Shias and Sunnis have always lived peacefully in this area”.

When I asked if there had been any change in that culture, he replied, “There has not been any change of the slightest kind. Shias and Sunnis attend majalis together. Sunnis used to bring the ta’zia and still do, as the martyrdom and sacrifice of Hazrat Imam Hussain is revered by all.”

Security has never been an issue here, as all the people live in complete harmony. The streets are divided in the middle by a rope, one side for the men and the other for women mourners. Many imambargahs are managed by women, where women and children are the attendees of the majalis.

A busy street in the walled city. —Photo by Abdullah Khan

Balconies with wooden work in Mohalla Shian Kashmirian. —Photo by Abdullah Khan

Inside the Vazir Khan mosque. The water is used for ablution by the worshipers. —Photo by Abdullah Khan

Delhi Gate, one the 12 gates of Lahore. —Photo by Abdullah Khan

All majalis have a culture of cooking special dishes (Niaz) for Moharram. Shias and Sunnis alike make special dishes like saag biryani,daal chawal, koonday and zarda. Free food and fruits are also distributed among the mourners.

The art of making ta’zias and shabeehs, flourishes in the Sooa Bazaar during Muharram. The cost of a ta’zia ranges from as low as a few thousands to as high as a crore. 'Zuljinna', the horse, which symbolises the horse of Imam Hussain, is taken care of by well-to-do Shia families throughout the year.

As the ninth and tenth of Moharram approaches, these imambargahs receive Shias from all over Lahore and other places. They become the beacon of Shia spirituality; the guardians of Shia tradition, standing as a symbol of the unparalleled sacrifice and historic martyrdom of Hazrat Imam Hussain.

It reverberates and resonates in the symbolic alams, shabeehs and sorrowful chants of the mourners.

This culture is the proud ownership of the people of Lahore. As important cultural and religious monuments, the imambargahs are in need of upkeep. The residents of the walled city would like to preserve them and need the government's support for that.

This diversity, which is the hallmark of Lahore, should be upheld and promoted.

For the past few days, it has looked like Pakistan's biggest problem is communal incidents occurring across the border.

From social media to mainstream news channels, to the general public; it seems Shiv Sena, RSS, Bajrang Dal and Hindu Sena are apparently our biggest issues, as if we are still a part of India and facing persecution at the hands of extremist Hindus.

A large part of our population has decided that:

• Shiv Sena's forced cancellation of the concerts of Pakistani singers in India, reflects the intolerance of Hindu extremists. But this same population failed to reach a similar conclusion when, a couple of years ago, the Iranian bookstall at Karachi International Book Fair was shut down, following a protest by the Muslim extremists of Ahl-e-Sunnat Wal Jamaat.

• Foreign nationals are not safe in India because an Australian couple was harassed by extremists over a tattoo issue, but the murder of nine foreign tourists near Nanga Parbat by the Taliban, should not be perceived as a threat to all foreigners in Pakistan.

• Throwing ink on Sudheendra Kulkarni – the organiser of Khurshid Mehmood Kasuri's book – was an abominable crime by Hindu extremists, but the kidnapping of Chinese nationals by Lal Masjid extremists was totally acceptable.

• The Indian government should be ashamed that Shiv Sena's extremists were successful in getting the meeting between our cricket board officials cancelled, but the Pakistani government need not be'ashamed' of an entire generation of sleeping with extremist religious outfits responsible for countless murders.

• The Indian police was a 'silent spectator' when a Hindu mob was lynching a Muslim man over for eating beef in Dadri, but the Pakistani police deserved no such labels after Shama and Shahzad, a Christian couple was beaten to death by a Muslim mob in Kot Radha Kishan.

• It was cool to mock the law and order situation in India when Hindus killed a Muslim over an alleged cow smuggling case, but not when its Pakistan's turn to be mocked; when, say, seven Christians were killed in cold blood by Muslims in Gojra.

When it comes to extremist Hindu mobs in India, the state needs to control them and establish its writ, but when a Muslim mob brings down the entire Joseph colony to ashes, let's stay silent lest we 'defame Pakistan' and point out that not all Muslims like to burn down Christian houses, just some of us.

Muslim extremists and Hindu extremists are two faces of the same coin; of the currency of bigotry and intolerance. Neither country is in a position to point out the 'faults' of the other, because both have openly allowed bigots on their respective sides to damage peace and humanity in the name of religion.

Certainly, the recent incidents of communal violence in India are a clear example of religious fascism, which should be condemned.

However, the 'holier than thou' attitude (on both sides) needs to change. Civilised citizens of both countries should deal with their own bigots, because nothing good can come out of "but we are less unfair than the other side".

An article that was published in the New York Times last year sparked my interest in travelling to the picturesque and historical valley of Chitral, inhabited by a minority tribe known as the Kalash.

According to the NY Times’ piece, the Kalash of Chitral - district of the Khyber‐Pakhtunkhwa province of Pakistan - were found to share DNA fragments with an ancient European population.

Statistical analysis suggests that this has resulted from interracial mixing between the local populace and Alexander the Great’s army well before 210 BC.

The Kalash live in three valleys of Chitral namely, Rumbur, Brumbret and Birir, and speak the Kalasha language, derived from the Dardic family of the Indo‐Iranian branch.

Street view — Brumbret Valley.

We started our journey to Chitral in the winter of last year. It was December and thus an off-season for tourists. I was very interested in exploring the valleys and capturing their breathtaking beauty with my lens.

We started from Lahore and were later joined by a group of young, enthusiastic explorers from Sialkot. After roughly 24 hours of travel, we entered the city of Ayuon from where we rented jeeps for the bumpy ride ahead. Soon, we were on our way to the mountainous areas of the magnificent Chitral.

Hiking through Brumbret.

A jeep passes through a narrow street.

The scenery, which welcomed us at the break of dawn as we reached the valley, was a sight to behold! Everything was covered with a thick blanket of pure white snow.

I loved the idea of bringing Kalash back home with me, and so I captured everything I found interesting. The people of the valley, in contrast to its weather were warm and welcoming.

Despite being very close to the Afghan border, at no point did we feel unsafe. In fact, we could even see the neighbouring country’s snow-covered peaks from where we stood.

We stayed at the Foreigner Tourism Inn Hotel and Resort. After leaving our baggage at the rest house, we immediately started on our journey.

Chitral berries.

Mountains from across the border – Afghanistan.

The rest house where we stayed had a very cooperative staff. They saw to it that our breakfast and dinner came to our tables piping hot and scrumptious.

As we went on, we were heartily greeted by the locals of the village; all of them so happy to see us, and eager to engage us in conversation.

Here, it seemed as if every tree too, had a story to tell. The morning sunlight gloriously bathed the valley in gold.

At the crack of dawn — children hurrying to school.

A barren tree.

The local girls catching some morning sun.

An old house made up entirely of large rocks.

The people of the neighbouring Nuristan, a province of Afghanistan, once practised the same religion as the Kalash minority. But by the late 19th century, much of Nuristan had converted to Islam, although evidence shows that some people continue to practice their customs.

The next day, we were thrilled to hear local women singing a song closeby. Their pleasing notes broke the silence of the valley.

Dressed in pink and green, resting on the roadside.

Kalash women dressed in colourful dresses.

Kalasha women usually wear long, black dresses, often embroidered with cowries. This creates a vivid and unique pattern that serves as the most obvious symbol of identity for the Kalash community.

Children of Kalash — unafraid and beautiful.

Managed to find water that was wasn't frozen.

We trekked into a valley from where we could see the Afghan Mountains covered with thick sheets of snow. The view was magical. We could not imagine how much more beautiful the valley would look in summer or spring, when everything turned lush green.

Temperatures were as low as minus five and the waters were frozen.

Views of the valley — large rocks and frozen rivers.

A narrow wooden bridge in Brumbret.

On our way back to Chitral, we passed through a village known as Ayuon. The small local market was teeming with life.

Fruit and vegetable stand in Chitral.

On our way back to Ayuon.

Goodbye wave — captured while passing through the street in a car.

This was a memorable trip for all of us. I would highly recommend this destination to those who want to experience the true beauty of Pakistan’s landscape.

A view of the valley from Ayuon.

A view of the mountains of Chitral.

Mountains of Afghanistan stand majestically in the background.

A wooden house bathed in gold taken just before sunset.

—All photos by author.

For more information on Pakistan's intriguing Kalash tribe: Embrace of the Kalasha.

Umair Siddiqui is a Lahore based digital designer with a passion for travel and photography.

http://images.dawn.com/news/1174102/recreating-rembrandt-a-new-dimension-of-pakistani-art

http://images.dawn.com/news/1174105/health-benefits-the-pomp-of-pomegranate

Now that Facebook is working on the launch of a ‘dislike’ button, it is time to take up a far more important issue:

How will this most cherished, long awaited button be used?

To help you with that, we’ve compiled a list of Facebook phenomena we’ll be greeting with a nice thumbs down. Here they are:

1. A million identical selfies

We will dislike and un-dislike and then dislike again every picture of the person who posts two dozen selfies every day in the same pose, looking in the same direction, with the same head tilt, with the same shampoo bottle in the background in the same bathroom!

At least look the other way, choose another bathroom, go over to the terrace sometime, and give us a tour of the house via selfie outrage.

Ok, don’t.

2. Facebook privacy warnings

Since you cannot see the face we make every time you post that you refuse to let Facebook take your pic, use your pic, make scrambled eggs out of the pic, feed it to Zuckerberg or send it to Mars with the monkeys, we desperately need a Dislike button to mirror our reaction to such a status.

We got news for you: nobody from Facebook is reading that message or if they are, you are giving them a good laugh.

So, yes, very nice of you to provide comic relief to Facebook employees while slaughtering our sanity. Ha. Ha.

3. One like, one prayer

We swear upon everything good and holy, ask us that just one more time once the Dislike button is in place.

500 likes of this post will cure this child and also grow another leg for that amputee and share if you’re human and not a heartless demon planning world domination. Truth be told, we’d rather vote for that demon a million times just to escape the like-asking harassment posts.

Instead of asking for likes and shares, kindly get off your behind and actually do something for the child/amputee/war vet/old man/the homeless and your grandmother. Till then, we dislike your post 1,000 times with one dislike per share too.

4. Check-ins everywhere

Why do we need to know where you are at every given minute of the day?

Checking in with Phopo’s cousin’s neighbour’s dhobi’s wife.

Ok, that one is actually interesting. But checking in with the husband to eat paan... seriously?

Yes, we were just dying to know how you spend time with your spouse doing what exactly and where. Now, please proceed to tell us where you spat the paan ki peek too.

Check in at corner of Khayaban-e-Shamsheer, throwing peek with husband.

Let us alert the muggers. We’re sure they would like to know that too. Or the cops perhaps?

Checking in at hell. (We won't dislike this one.)

5. One man show

This is me in Murree. This is me in a garden. This is me smelling a flower. This is me eating *faluda. This is me at Mukka Chowk. This is me in the shower, err…almost.*

Yes, we get it. You’re doomed to live alone and die alone too, with just one lonely flower growing out of your grave. And that’s probably because you’re too cool for company or maybe nobody likes you. But must we put up with you? And how hard is it to put it all in one album and mark it “Forever Alone”?

6. Coochy Coo lovebirds

To my loving and bessteessttt husband of them all!! You are the love of my life and I dedicate “Tum hi ho” and “mujhay neend na aye” to you. I love you so much, my babykins. Muah muah.

Statuses like that make us want to end the world. First of all...bestest husband? How many do you have? Also, that’s incorrect English.

7. Tag! You’re it!

Do not tag us in a bad picture of us or in the ‘friendship is lowe’, album where the birds and bees make you feel all goosebumpy inside; or in a chain letter that we must send to a 100 good women to get one second of good luck. Don’t.

If we see another bird and butterfly, we will swat you.

Also, we don’t know 100 good women. We only know you. And you’re a pain as of that tag and may all evil befall you. But all that, after we’ve disliked everything you’ve posted that day.

8. Spoiler alert

Yes, we really wanted to know what happened in the Red Wedding, and how Oberyn was killed before we even had a chance to see the episode or its teaser. (Oops, sorry if we spoiled Game of Thrones for you, but you see, it does say 'spoiler alert' above).

To all those the-butler-did-it spoiler statuses, may your television sets and laptops burst into flames right before the next episode of whatever fancies you the most and may your theatre tickets catch fire at the box office right after they hang the 'SOLD OUT' board there. May every torrent website you download from get blocked.

And here’s a ‘dislike’ from us as a cherry to top it all.

9. Dark and mysterious

Some people like to kiss and not tell, be actually cool by shunning the spotlight, intrigue the world with their charm. Others write vague Facebook statuses: “Confused.”

Yeah, so are we. Dislike button pressed! Also, please get it out of your head, you are not a philosopher.

10. Photoshop level – Disastrous

No, you did not meet Sunny Leone and she did not let you put your hands around her waist.

No, Katrina does not want to marry you.

And no, that is not your leg on your Ferrari.

Yes, we know since you tagged us in all your cruise pictures that you unfortunately did manage to go on. Also, your name is Khan, not Imran Abbas. Use your own pic as a profile picture.