Eid-i-Milad and illumination

A BEAUTIFUL glowing colourful three-column photograph of illuminations across Burnes Road, on the eve of Eid-i-Milad appeared on the Metropolitan pages on Thursday May 15, in what surely was amply reflective of the generous way many of the city’s commercial and residential areas were decorated for the annual celebrations. But it also had many citizens reflecting somewhat sadly at a news report that was published alongside that very photograph whose headline read as ‘Electricity breakdowns persist’. Do you comprehend?

The simple question looking for some simple, but possibly hard, answer is this: who was paying for all that electricity? The people of that area, or the traders of the locality, or the KESC or the government? Any government? We all know the answer!

There is another question that arises. This one is also simple on the face of it. Does the city’s electricity distribution system have the capacity to take on the load that is created by these illuminations, howsoever desirable and necessary they may be? There comes a time in a society when such vital questions need to be openly asked. That was a holiday, the 12th of Rabiul Awwal and with a slowed down pace of events, it was a contemplative kind of a day. Don’t we all wonder, perhaps even in dismay and disappointment, at the way the city is going, despite the good things that are happening?

The answer to the question about the KESC’s capacity to handle that load on 1st to 12th of Rabiul Awwal, or Ramazan and Eidul Fitr, for example, is limited and even non-existent. Hence, occur those power failures that we have been reading about, living through. The system that KESC has, cannot cope with the demand, often illegal. A KESC spokesman, its PR voice, Sultan Hasan, was on air on Geo that night, explaining the problem — in vain?

But facts aside it is worth pondering why the citizens themselves or the parties and organizations that initiate all these colourful celebrations don’t make the people make their monetary contribution howsoever small it may be. Pay for all that glitter. Like when young men play cricket, night cricket, they take (steal) that electricity from the KESC system in their neighbourhood. That much for the kind of community that we have. Defaulters, one is reminded of. Like those who do not pay their dues in blocks of apartments or elsewhere and those who pay feel like sitting ducks. I am tempted to quote one paragraph from that electricity story which is a sorry comment on the state of our society and its attitudes. Here it is: “Power breakdowns continued to occur on Wednesday as the KESC remained powerless to check power pilferage carried out in the name of religious festivities.”

At this point it is very pertinent to mention a disturbing revealing story that appeared in Dawn of May 14 which said that due to a paucity of funds, the city government’s development work had come to a halt. There was something deeply depressing in reading that “all development activities by the city government and all the 18 Town Municipal Administrations (TMAs) has almost come to a halt, owing to short payments made by the federal government, under the head of ‘matching grant’ and the transfer of funds by the Sindh government under the head of property tax.”

The details aside, try and look at the issue like this: in a city like Karachi there is a paucity of funds! A city as rich as Karachi, the industrial or commercial and trading capital of the country. The largest city in the country, which boasts of so much of prosperity, and palatial residence in some of the residential areas of the city, has no money for development work. We do not hear of this kind of happening in other cities in Pakistan. Whither what?

That 12th Rabiul Awwal morning around 10am, there were stories doing the rounds that there had been bomb blasts in the city, at almost two dozen petrol pumps, (Shell and Caltex) and so one speculated grimly. Fearful scenarios came to mind and fortunately the damage was nominal. But the terrorists’ message was more than marginal. It was massive and it was ominous. On a day like 12th of Rabiul Awwal, who is it who wanted to destabilize the city, or underline its vulnerability? There is much to worry about.

Yet on that very evening there were huge holidaying crowds at the Clifton beach, unmindful, seemingly, of those blasts, undeterred by the scare they had generated, enjoying the evening breeze, on a fairly pleasant mid-May evening.

Strange times and strange city, remarked a Karachiite as he mentioned more subjects that were a peculiar reflection on the Sindh capital. He referred ironically to a story that appeared in October 2001 which had declared that “Karachi to have 17 Hyde Parks.” That was an amazing promise and in this the Sindh home department had agreed to a proposal by the Karachi City Government with regard to allowing people their right to freedom of expression. One wonders what happened to all that including another idea to have a “major park planned at Gutter Baghicha.” This was announced by the City Nazim Naimatullah Khan.

Let me return to the glowing beautiful photograph mentioned at the outset. With it there was another story which, truly speaking, didn’t surprise or even disappoint. It announced that “Rangers to be deployed at pumping stations” this being yet another step backward in our attempt to manage the water crisis that we experience each summer now. These rangers teams will be posted at 71 pumping stations in the city, after the Water and Sanitation Department of the city government made the request, subsequent to complaints that “a large number of union council Nazims had tampered with water valves, taken illegal water connections from main lines, besides having installed unauthorized boosters in various towns.

Reports had earlier indicated that water supply network had been tampered with by Nazims in many areas.

What is happening in the city, dear citizen? Are we on the right track or are we off track, hell bent on self destruction? Where is corruption and lack of integrity taking us? The water story alone is many faceted when it comes to showing us our seamy side.

All through the week there have been accounts of how poorly water supply and distribution have fared, including attacks on a water department office, and how illegal hydrants were creating a scarcity. Read this, in conjunction with the disclosure that smuggling and export were leading to a meat shortage in the city. That 121 vehicles were taken away by criminals during the week.

Good News: The Sindh governor has ordered the removal of gambling dens and illegal mini cinema houses screening obscene films. He has also ordered a cleanliness drive for which work is on, banners are up in the skies also. I drove through Nazimabad and Golimar during the week and the filth that I saw on the main road was disgusting, and it was alongside the Eid-i-Milad celebrations.

Meeraji remembered

ONCE again, Muzaffar Ghaffar succeeded in disturbing the busy schedule of a top lawyer of the country, Ijaz Husain Batalavi. He made him agree to participate in the lecture on literature series arranged from time to time by the Lahore Arts Forum (LEAF). But then, he gave him the subject of his choice — Meeraji. It was nice to see some knowledgeable people among the audience in the auditorium of the Model Town Library that evening. They listened attentively to Ijaz about a person with whom he had a close equation.

Ijaz started off with giving a brief history of Meeraji. Born in 1912 as Sanaullah Dar, he died in 1949. (He took a sudden fancy to one Meera Sen with the result that he went to the extent of changing his own name to Meeraji). He started writing at a very young age and his first contribution appeared in the weekly Phool, a magazine for children. He was also an amateur homeopath and, as Ijaz said, he personally used his potions at one time. It was after joining service with All-India Radio that Ijaz came in close contact with Meeraji. And it was with some remorse that Ijaz spoke of the last days of Meeraji. He died, almost unattended in a Bombay hospital.

While going to Bombay to catch a steamer for England where he was going for higher studies, Ijaz made sure to visit Meeraji in the general ward of a hospital. Walking up to his bed and sitting by his side, he heard a shriek from the next bed. Soon, a curtain was put around it and the patient, evidently dead, was taken away. Then Ijaz came up with an interesting story. He said he then saw a priest walk into the ward. He went and stood by the bed of each patient and assured him that he would soon be cured. Coming to Meeraji’s bed he repeated the same words. “Yes,” said Meeraji, “you said the same last week to the one lying next to me; he has just been cured for ever.”

It is unfortunate that Meeraji has mostly been presented as a mythical figure totally forgetting that he played a pioneering role in the development of modern Urdu literature. As Ijaz Batalavi said, Meeraji lived for hardly 38 years but he left behind a huge collection of writings in prose and poetry. His extensive writings on various poets and literary movements are there for all to see. Considered a controversial figure during his lifetime, the reputation stuck to him even after his death. It was this very reason that when a student of the Punjab University selected Meeraji for a doctorate, it was opposed in the board of advanced studies.

Meeraji led a difficult life as he was opposed to mainstream progressive writers of his time. His was a distinct voice, subjective and sensitive. It was probably under the influence of the literary trends of the West that Meeraji concentrated on the nazm. One can even say that his was a revolt against the ghazal. And who can forget his lyrical geets?

It would be unwise here to compare Noon Meem Rashed with Meeraji. Both are great names of Urdu nazm and were, evidently, inspired by the romantics and imagists of the West. However, I cannot help saying that while going through the poetry of Rashed I feel that it has been worked upon while Meeraji seems to have written off the cuff.

EARLIER, the local branch of the Pakistan Academy of Letters (PAL) arranged a literary reference for the late Abdullah Malik. The function held on the premises of PAL was presided over by Hameed Akhtar. Many speakers, including Attiya Syed, Prof Afzal Tawseef and Dr Anwar Sadeed, paid tributes to the departed soul. They lauded his efforts for promoting progressive ideas in the country. He made a critical appraisal of the political and social trends of his time and wrote more than 50 books on such subjects. They also stressed the need for preserving his library. (It was in the newspapers the other day that his library has been donated to the Government College University).

Hameed Akhtar presided over a similar function, again organized by the PAL, but in its Islamabad head office. A picture of the function appearing in a newspaper had a strange caption; it mentioned Hameed Akhtar as a poet. Now, all that I know of his poetic capabilities is that he once wrote a column about Ustad Imam Din of Gujrat.

The PAL’s Lahore office also arranged a literary reference in memory of the poet, Qalandar Momand who passed away earlier this year at the age of 73. It was presided over by Prof Afzal Tawseef. Speakers on the occasion paid tributes to his multidimensional personality as he was a journalist, a revolutionary and a political activist. In addition, he was a poet of both Pashto and Urdu. He suffered imprisonment several times because of his radical views. He was awarded the Sitara-i-Imtiaz by the Benazir Bhutto government.

The function was well attended in which stress was laid on the need for translating writings of all regional languages into Urdu to promote national integration.

IT was an interesting evening at the residence of Shahnaz Muzammil where the monthly session of Adab Serai is held. This time there were some first-timers at the session, two ladies and two gentlemen. The ladies were Syeda Tauqir Naqvi, and the very young, Asnath Kanwal, who appears in the monthly Shadaab frequently. The gentlemen were Tariq Mahmood of the Quaid-i-Azam Library and Dr Rafiq.

Poetic recitations that evening were of a mixed nature. — ASHFAQUE NAQVI