THE WAY IT WAS: Where have they all gone? —Mian Ijaz Ul Hassan
Bashir got unusual media coverage, more than the athletes who proceeded to
win gold medals. He was on the front page of almost every newspaper porting
several suitcases including sporting gear packed in an indigenous metal trunk
that rested on his bare head. The manager of our wrestling team had imperiously
ordered Bashir to collect the luggage and transport it to the vehicle waiting
outside
Not a single medal at the Olympics. Pakistan was noticeable by its absence. The
PTV considered it a non-event. In these circumstances why complain if our youth
race around town on motorcycles. What else can they do for providing an outlet
to their energy? Exacting and bothersome children in a class are usually also
the ones with talent. It is for the teacher to identify their virtues and
channel them. When dams harness turbulent rivers they can be used for generating
power and irrigating arid lands. If this is not done a river, howsoever mighty,
will flow into the sea, seasonally causing havoc to people who abide on its
banks. Taking lesson from this rather common analogy we could perhaps begin by
establishing a motorbike-racing stadium to capture at least part of the energy
wasted in the streets that is a source of strain and annoyance to the citizens.
I am certain that at the next Olympics, to be held in China, one of them will
fetch us at least a bronze. In the meantime our navy can perhaps train a few
sailors and oarsmen, and the army — if nothing else — equip someone who can
shoot straight at a fixed target. Instead of wasting time on futile war-games it
would be in every sense far more rewarding to train for the next Olympics and
win some medals.
Where has all our sporting talent gone? We used to collect most of the gold
medals in sports at the Asian games — 100 metres, 200 metres, 110 metres
hurdles, 400 metres hurdles, 800 metres hurdles, javelin, discus and hammer
throws, steeple-chase and of course hockey. At the Olympics if we did not get a
gold in hockey we returned home with silver. Occasionally we also distinguished
ourselves in wrestling, boxing, sailing and even swimming — remember Brojan
Das? Where have they all gone?
We had also inherited a noble wrestling tradition. An akharas were regarded as a
sacred place. Tilled and kept clean by the wrestlers themselves as though it was
a mosque. No one dared defile it or enter it without permission of the master.
The pehlawans were trained to be polite and gentle. They never claimed to know
their strength and were trained to wrestle, not fight. They were tame as a lamb
and humble as an elephant. Where have all our wrestlers gone?
When the Kenyans won three successive medals in the steeplechase at the Olympics
a commentator remarked that the Kenyans regarded the event as part of their
national heritage and protected it as a very special gift to them. Why have we
so utterly failed to protect our national treasures? By ‘we’, I mean us, we
the people, not the state that is guided by other concerns. In the past the
army, thanks to Brig Rodham, produced a string of athletes of great calibre.
Since decades, however, it has not produced a single sportsman of substance,
except for the generals who boss over various sports organisations. A general is
generally considered good at everything. He can be chairman of the cricket board
and rector of a university — whatever.
But let us for the moment leave the state aside and address ourselves. What have
our barons of industry and the landed aristocracy done for the arts and sports?
Thinking of the past I am reminded of Maharaja Bhupinder Singh of Patiala, who
was a great patron of both sports and arts. Is there anyone among us who has
equalled him in last five decades? He picked up cricket at Aitchison and
encouraged others to play it at Patiala. When needed, the Maharaja could field
an eleven entirely comprising of his family. Among other sports the Maharaja
patronised wrestling. He felt particularly proud of Gama Pehlwan’s association
with Patiala. Gama’s great strength and technique has never been equalled. He
became a legend in his own lifetime. There are a number of stories associated
with him. One of the popular one is about his encounter with Zabisko. Built like
a giant, Zabisko was so powerful that he could bend the one-paisa copper coin by
pressing it between his enormous thumb and forefinger. Troubled by Zabisko’s
great strength and reputation, the Maharaja tried to dissuade Gama from going
ahead with the fight to be held in Patiala. He assured Gama that no harm would
come to his esteem and honour, as he would pay enough money to Zabisko to back
off from the fight. Gama quietly listened to the Maharaja and said, “Maharaj,
provide me the opportunity and then see.”
I believe for some spectators the fight was over before it even began. Those who
were lighting a cigarette or exchanging a casual glance missed the fight because
when they looked they saw Zabisko on the ground with Gama resting his powerful
knee on his chest. At Independence, Gama left Patiala for Lahore and settled at
Mohni Road. Gama didn’t have a son; his brother Imam Buksh had a handsome
brood of five, the famous Bholu being the eldest followed by Acha, Akki, Goga
and Hussu. It may be of interest to mention that Hameed Pehlwan, their maternal
uncle, trained all five sons of Imam Buksh at the akhara situated at the
Bhagatanwala Darwaza in Amritsar.
Tragically the last days of Gama’s life were spent with his noble hulk in a
hospital bed. It is reported by those who overheard the great Gama who had never
submitted to another mortal plead to his eldest nephew, “Bholu oh Bholu! Come
remove this fly, it is bothering me.” The mighty Gama who had humbled Zabisko
was himself humbled by time. In the end he couldn’t even whisk away a common
housefly — a lesson to remember. At his death, Patiala did more for his widow
and family than his own countrymen.
Sadly where have our wrestlers gone? While some African countries have treasured
their sporting traditions we have lost ours forever. The last I heard of a
wrestler was in 1960 when Bashir Pehlwan won the bronze medal at the Mexico
Olympics. Bashir, on his arrival at the Mexico City, got unusual media coverage,
more than the athletes who proceeded to win gold medals. He was on the front
page of almost every newspaper. The press photographers went crazy flashing
their cameras when they saw him appear in the airport exit lounge. Basheer was
porting several suitcases including sporting gear packed in an indigenous metal
trunk on his bare head. Actually all this had happened quite inadvertently. The
manager of our wrestling team had imperiously ordered Bashir to collect the
luggage and transport it to the vehicle waiting outside. Our Olympian, used to
running petty chores for officials had merely accomplished what he had been
told.
And then you ask where they have all gone.
Prof Ijaz-ul-Hassan is a painter, author and political activist