THE WAY IT WAS: Sweep it under the prayer mat —Mian Ijaz Ul Hassan
The artist confessed that there were a number of works that focused on
individual suffering, which he thought he wouldn’t share with others. They
were too intimately tragic. But in the end he broke his resolve and shared them
with others in order to stop it from happening again. Choices are not easy
Sometimes I feel that a writer should reflect only on the events and not get
entangled with unassimilated facts of daily occurrence. The evening discussions
over tea or sherbet can be quite tiresome. It is amazing how some people have
all the answers up their sleeves. Summarising the daily press is not
everyone’s forte. Exchanging notes on published articles, that have been read
or have escaped attention, can be informative but brings little satisfaction.
Printed material can be properly absorbed only when it is read in person.
Since the parameters of law and constitution are not fixed and are subject to
the vagaries of legal minds prone to please the Provider, it is futile to
attempt a speculative analysis. For instance could anyone have guessed that the
new local body elections were to be on party basis? I remember when local body
elections were held during Zia’s regime, a host of winning candidates were
disqualified because in their campaign posters they had declared themselves awam
dost (pro-people), which according to the Election Commission was a deceitful
manner of indicating their affiliation with the PPP. With changing times
political needs have also changed. All candidates who wish to participate in the
local body elections will now be required to declare affiliation with a
political party, preferably with the ruling party if they plan on winning.
It is almost impossible to speculate about what is going to happen the next day.
Ironically, it is easier to predict the direction. But to sum it up, or as they
say to put the knot at the end of a long rope, those who have privileged
information win the day. In many cases it has been observed that with few
exceptions almost every one claims to have ‘access’ that is often not the
case, but the pretence gives them privileged space for an evening. In Pakistan,
anything and everything is possible in a day.
It is easier to predict the future in a long-term perspective. What is happening
in Balochistan today is as predictable as the former East Pakistan.
Unfortunately riders who cannot sit well in the saddle are less concerned about
where the horse is going and more worried about being thrown off. This is also
true of profiteers who are focused on immediate gains. Who cares about what will
happen the day after tomorrow? Even tomorrow is another day. If at the end of
the day Pakistan were to lose its hold over Balochistan one can always argue
that we have actually profited. As for the gas, we have enough of it at both
ends, in the head as well as inside us.
Somewhat similar sentiments were expressed when East Pakistan declared
independence. The Bengalis were such a drain on the economy. They were not even
proper Muslims. Most of them had been brainwashed by their Hindu teachers.
Moreover their women were insatiable. I was once told that a young civil servant
proceeding to East Pakistan was advised by his father to beware of Bengali women
who tied their azarbund (draw-string) rather loosely. I have always wondered
which azarbunds the father had been pulling because women in Bengal wear a sari.
It is tragic that as individuals we have yet to pause to consider accepting
responsibility for the ugly events in Sonar Desh.
I know most people like to patronise suffering of other people from a safe
distance. It makes them feel good. It is for the same reason that the richie-rich
and wielders of state power instead of shunning the day Faiz envisages in his
poem, Hum Dekhayn Gay, nostalgically clap along with the singer when the verses
are recited at music concerts. They insist that the poem be sung over and over
again. Why should they long to see that day, the day of their undoing, remains
an enigma?
The Victorian bourgeoisie loved to pander to the wretched poor as long as they
were spared their odours. They romanticised them beyond description. There were
hundreds of paintings depicting children with delicate demeanours in rags, some
with tears rolling dawn from their blue eyes tracing their pink cheeks, innocent
fallen women on London streets, wives bidding farewell to their men being
transported on ships to the distant colonies, portraits of wrinkled men and
women with sad faces. It was not till Kathy Kollwits picked up her charcoal and
Millet, Daumier, Manet and Van Gogh their brushes that the artist started
identifying with the working people — politically, emotionally and
aesthetically.
But it is not enough to extend sympathy, which like charity helps only to make a
person feel good. It is by denouncing the exploiters and perpetrators of crimes
against fellow humans that evil in our own soul can be fathomed and cleansed. Do
we as individuals and a nation have the courage to undertake this journey? The
answer is no we don’t! It is important however that we do, to ensure that what
happened in East Pakistan should never ever happen again. But that would hurt
our national pride, wouldn’t it? We would rather sweep the knowledge of dark
ugly events under the mussalla.
People who take a longer view of life are regarded as creeps who make life
difficult for practical men who believe in kal kis nay dhekha hai. Anyone who
talks of things that cannot benefit us today is regarded with mistrust. Social
and political activism is dead. Fighting for poverty alleviation has become a
profitable undertaking. Simultaneously, we are becoming insensitive. The other
day a journalist was quoted as having said that when he saw a man proceeding to
publicly burn himself, he curbed the urge to save him because that would have
amounted to tampering with the news. A dispassionate reporter, reporting events
honestly, can slowly add up to save far more lives than one. His work requires
great courage and vision. But should the argument be used to discourage us to be
human?
A few months back when I switched on the television I caught in midstream Tim
Wilcox of the BBC facing a photographer, who was saying that he used his camera
like a gun to battle perpetrators of crimes against his people. With the camera
in hand he recorded his land and tragedies of his people. Often he extracted, as
I learnt, gunpowder from bullets to use it as flashlight to capture the tragic
predicament of individuals. The artist confessed that there were a number of
works that focused on individual suffering, which he thought he wouldn’t share
with others. They were too intimately tragic. But in the end he broke his
resolve and shared them with others in order to stop it from happening again.
Choices are not easy to make. Making honest choices is important even if they
are wrong. It is better than sitting on a fence and then falling and breaking
into pieces that cannot be put together ever again.
Prof Ijaz-ul-Hassan is a painter, author and a political activist