| August 11, 2003 | Monday | Jumadi-us-Sani 12, 1424 |
The people my college had (II)
Peace has its own angularities in Pakistan, India ties
For fine weather only
The adventurous gastronome
VISITORS from Muslim countries, especially from Pakistan, are discovering that immigration authorities in Canada are becoming just as inhospitable as their US counterparts in the aftermath of the Sept 11 attacks. Even with valid visitors visas, good intentions are not enough, as everyone is deemed a suspect, if not of “terrorism” then as someone seeking political asylum in the country.
The US authorities have started to deny entry visas to Canadian citizens of Pakistani origin (under bilateral agreement, Canadian passport holders are granted three months stay without a visa), asking them to obtain visas and be photographed and finger printed. Many Pakistani-Canadians were sent back to Canada. Now the Canadian authorities in a tit-for-tat gesture are doing the same to Pakistani-Americans, denying them entry under the agreement.
So Pakistanis suffer at both ends. Just last week a Pakistani family with valid visas and their son with an American passport were denied entry into Canada which enraged the US immigration authorities who promptly asked them to report the matter to the US state department. They allowed the family back into the United States, noting that “Americans are not as heartless as they are made out to be.”
At issue is the influx of Pakistanis following a registration deadline set by US authorities in March of this year. When Pakistanis, mostly “illegal aliens” living in the United States, found it difficult to stay on without valid documents (although some were living without them for as many as 10 years) they decided to run to Canada to seek political asylum.
This prompted the Canadian authorities to clamp down. Oppressive as this may sound, there are indeed valid reasons for the authorities to scrutinize each and every visitor given the backdrop of asylum seekers. Many have entered the country and turned around seeking political asylum, some genuinely so but many for purely economic reasons.
According to official figures, Canada received a record number of asylum applications, 44,500 in 2001, a 20 per cent increase over the number in 2000. During the year, 44,038 claims were referred to Canada’s Immigration and Refugee Board (IRB). Canadian authorities decided 22,887 refugee claims, recognizing 13,336 as refugees, a 58 per cent approval rate, the same as the previous year.
Another 5,430 cases were abandoned, withdrawn, or otherwise closed. The Canadian government reported an approval rate of 47 per cent for all applications referred, down from 49 per cent in 2000.
In 2001, leading source countries for refugee claims in Canada were Hungary (approximately 3,800), Pakistan (3,200), Sri Lanka (3,000), Zimbabwe (2,700), and China (2,400). Mexico, Colombia, Turkey, India, Argentina, and Congo-Kinshasa were the next largest source countries, with 1,000 to 2,000 applications from each. Among the countries with the highest approval rates were Afghanistan (97 per cent), Somalia (92 per cent), Colombia (85 per cent), Sri Lanka (76 per cent), and Congo-Kinshasa (76 per cent). Pakistanis had one of the lowest approval rates.
But despite all the stringent measures, many Pakistanis are successful in seeking asylum in Canada, entering the country through some 425 border posts. Many encounter hardships at the hands of surly authorities who suspect everyone. But one thing is common among all Pakistanis — they all want to come back to the United States.
However, in New York, the hub of South Asian communities, Pakistani neighbourhoods from Queens to Brooklyn have seen a drop in the population growth rate which was increasing at a breathtaking pace before Sept 11. Of the 120,000 or so Pakistanis who lived in the so-called Little Pakistan section of Brooklyn, 15,000, maybe more, have left for Canada, Europe or Pakistan.
US authorities swooped down on illegal Pakistanis, arresting hundreds if not thousands and then the exodus accelerated seven months ago when the department of homeland security required every male Pakistani visa holder aged 16 or older to register with the bureau of immigration and customs enforcement.
The mosque on Coney Island Avenue in Brooklyn is one-third empty on Fridays. Restaurants close at 10pm. Hairdressers and pizza joints report a 40 per cent drop in business. Some 18 or more Pakistani Urdu newspapers distributed free have seen a significant drop in advertising revenues.
In the communities in Brooklyn and Queens, the sense of being watched is pervasive. Pakistani immigrants with their South Asian English accents and their 70-hour workweeks and their ever-more- American ways live in a state of suspense. Children are pulled out of schools by parents fleeing to Pakistan. Wives watch husbands being taken into detention. Many fear their phones are tapped, their e-mails monitored.
The flight of many working class people from New York will likely undermine the already sagging economy of a city where immigrants from mostly Third World countries run thousands of small delis or grocery shops, taxicabs, restaurants, and other businesses.
In addition to this direct economic hit, New York also faces the irreplaceable loss of part of its famed cosmopolitan diversity. Jackson Heights, Corona, Bay Ridge, Brighton Beach, “Coney Island” — the potential deterioration of South Asian, Arab, Indonesian, and mixed ethnic neighbourhoods and institutions could strike at the essence of a city known for its diversity.
LAST week, I had given you an incomplete list of the societies the Government College, Lahore, had in 1939-40. The list had been taken from an almanac published by my alma mater. The job was done by the Mufid-i-Aam Press. Let me complete it today. We begin with the Sanskrit Society. The almanac continues.
Sanskrit: President — Pt Gauri Shankar Vice-President — L Duni Chandra Secretary — Dharma Pal Assistant Secretary — Vishwambhar Nath Senior’s Club: Patron — Principal President — Mazhar Mahmud Secretary — Satish Chandra Loomba Treasurer — Malik Ahmad Hussain Assistant Treasurer — Sarup Singh Union Committee: President — Principal Deputy President — Malik Ahmad Hussain Vice-President — K K Grover Secretary — Manmohan Krishan Treasurer — Dr S L Ghose Members — Dr J B Seth, Mr Harish Chandra, Editor Ravi (H C Smith), Vice-President, Young Speakers’ Union (Prem Chand Duggal) Young Speakers’ Union: President — Mr M J Wasti Deputy President — Mr B Dhingra Vice-President — Prem Chand Duggal Secretary — Khurshid Ahmad Assistant Secretary — Safdar Puri Executive Members — A Bindra, Muhammad Afzal CLUBS: Ambulance Club: President — Dr Jagiwan Singh Captain — S D Dhir Secretary — Gurcharan Lall Athletic Club: President — Mr H A Soofi Captain — Murat Singh Secretary — Aqil Khan Badminton Club: President — Mr E C Dickinson Vice-President — Mr I M Verma Secretary — D V S Joneja Basket Ball Club: President — Mr S A Hamid Captain — Jogindar Singh Vice-Captain — Rashid Ahmad Secretary — M Tilani Bicycle Club: President — Dr S Chowla Secretary — K K Grover Joint Secretary — Manmohan Krishen Boat Club: President — Q Muhammad Aslam Vice-President — Mr D R Puri Captain — Shamsher Singh Secretary — Prem Kumar Boxing Club: President — Dr S L Ghose Vice-President — Dr R K Bahl Captain — Kapil Dev Secretary — S A Joseph Cricket Club: President — Dr Vishwa Nath Vice-President — Sufi Ghulam Mustafa “Tabassum” Captain — Azmat Hayat Khan Secretary — Nizamuddin Football Club: President — Mr H B Richardson Vice-President — Mr H A Soofi Captain — Gurdil Singh Gill Secretary — S M Hassan Garrett Physical Culture Club: President — Mr H A Soofi Gatka Club: President — Mr B D Chhabra Captain — Suraj Krishan Secretary — Dev Raj Dogra Gymnastic Club: President — Dr S L Ghose Captain — Amar Nath Amboh Secretary — Vidya Ratan Dhawan Hockey Club: President — Mr A R Khanna Vice-President — Dr V S Puri Captain — Daljit Singh Secretary — Riaz Kabaddi Club: President — Sufi Ghulam Mustafa Captain — Agha Amjad Ali Secretary — Dilbagh Singh Rifle Club: President — Dr Harnam Singh Vice-President — Kapil Dev Secretary — S B Shaw Joint Secretary — Dharma Dev Treasurer — M S Deva Rover Crew: President — Mr A N Kapur Senior Rover Mate — Kapil Dev Rover Scribe — Harbans Lal Swimming Club: President — Mr J B Seth Vice-President — Mr Karamatullah Khan Captain — Bakshi Trilok Secretary — Bal Raj Kapur Tennis Club: President — Mr Harish Chandra Vice-President — Mr L R Sethi Secretary — Sat Vir Committee — Narnarain Singh and Bakshi Trilok.
In the context of India-Pakistan relations, the peace lobby brings its own angularities into the frame. Allow me to call them the Fahmida Riaz and Ahmed Faraz approaches to our future ties.
It was in April 2000 that the two immensely admired poets from Pakistan, both votaries of peace, were visiting New Delhi to attend a mushaira. As has been the practice for years, the visiting poets were also invited to share their thoughts and poetry with the students and teachers of the predominantly leftist campus of Jawaharlal Nehru University, a traditional votary of good relations with Pakistan.
Ahmed Faraz was to take his turn after Fahmida Riaz, who was reciting a riveting poem that made a scathing attack on religious bigotry. She acidly described how religious authoritarianism had quietly migrated from Pakistan to India. “Tum bilkul hum jaisey nikle? Ab tak kahaa’n chhupe thay bhai? Wo ghaamadpan, wo jaahilpan jisme humney sadi gawaee! Ab pahonchi hai dwaar tumhare? Arey badhai! Bahot badhai!!”
There was applause all round, the kind once reserved by JNU for Faiz Ahmed Faiz, Majrooh, Sardar Jaffri. And only the previous day Fahmida had received a deafening ovation from a much bigger Delhi audience, with the same poem. But suddenly on this evening something was to go horribly wrong. The tart verse, it seems, had provoked a man, later described as an army major, to whip out a pistol. “We cannot allow India-hating Pakistanis to be given this platform,” the man screamed. He was overpowered and probably thrashed by the students.
Terrified by the thought of the visitors getting harmed by an Indian brawl, I bundled the duo into a car and drove them swiftly to the safety of their hotel. The ride was tense, but also revealing. The three of us agreed that the disruption of the mushaira was probably the handiwork of rightwing Hindu nationalists, the kind who see all Pakistanis as enemies. However, Mr Faraz was of the view that it was a tussle between rightwing and leftwing students, and therefore it was an internal turf war of the Indians in which the two poets had no role to play. He fumed that he had been unnecessarily exposed to a potentially dangerous situation.
Fahmida’s stand was pleasantly different. Right or left was not the issue, she said. “People fighting for democracy in both countries should be ready to fight for each other,” was her argument.
Let us just go back to 1978 and see how the Fahmida-Faraz debate might have played out on a crucial event of that year. In March 1978, it was clear to everyone that Gen Zia-ul-Haq had made up his mind to hang Zulfikar Ali Bhutto, come what may. Many world leaders and many more governments were pleading with the military dictator to spare Mr Bhutto’s life on humanitarian grounds. But there were those, too, who thought it intrusive to advise the head of a sovereign country on what procedure to adopt with someone he had a personal interest in getting convicted.
Among the latter set of leaders was Atal Behari Vajpayee, the then foreign minister of India. He kept studiously aloof on the issue while allowing Prime Minister Morarji Desai to rebuff all domestic pressure from Indians to plead for Mr Bhutto’s life with Gen Zia. Whether the Imtiaz-i-Pakistan honour later bestowed on Mr Desai stemmed from this act of great diplomatic discretion should be allowed to remain a mystery.
However, this did not deter Indira Gandhi, then a very harassed opposition leader herself, to make whatever effort she personally could, to keep trying till the very end to save Bhutto’s life. Mr Vajpayee’s tenure as foreign minister is described by many Pakistanis as the model period of bonhomie with India. And yet his stand in 1978 was akin to the one taken by Ahmed Faraz in 2000 at JNU. Indira Gandhi on the other hand, though not a very consistent democrat, was instinctively closer to Fahmida Riaz’s prescription on bilateral ties.
The two approaches are a recurring feature of relations between the two countries, but only one of them could be valid. For example, let us assume, for the sake of argument, that all the problems confronting the two countries are resolved. The intractable issue of Kashmir, too, is settled by a miracle. The question still remains —- what should be the politically correct approach by an Indian to issues of democracy in Pakistan and vice versa.
Should the Pakistanis forever be sworn to keep quiet on an Indian pogrom of Sikhs or Muslims or Dalits? Do the Pakistanis have a business, like the rest of the world, to speak their mind without their motives being questioned on the absurdities of many prevailing Indian customs like widow sacrifice, child marriage, untouchability, corrupted democracy?
Likewise, is it proper for Indians to express their opinions on the plight of women under tribal laws, the blasphemy laws, the marginalization of Hindus, Christians, Ahmedis? Why is it that the two countries, thereby really meaning their people, can and do hold identical views on apartheid, imperialism, Palestine but are forbidden by the other’s government from being “nosey” about issues closer home, in the neighbourhood?
Conversely, is it ever going to be possible to not regard Indians who agree more with Pakistanis, or Pakistanis who empathize with Indians not to be seen as traitors by their own governments? This is the nub of the issue for people like Fahmida Riaz on both sides of the border.
India’s aging Shehnai maestro, Ustad Bismillah Khan, is the highest decorated musician in the country. It is tragic that he lives in penury with his troupe of tabla and pakhawaj players in Varanasi. Rival musicians who were heard carping about the modest dole he has got from the government had no business to be unnecessarily mean to the great guru. He has regaled us with a sumptuous fare of raags, thumris, kajris on the fabled wind instrument since he first played at the Red Fort on India’s Independence Day.
But did he have to let us all down so badly the other day? Now one can understand, even applaud the great Bismillah Khan as he struggles these days to blow air from his frail lungs into the shehnai. But what a disaster his so-called adopted daughter was as they both tried to make something out of the much hyped performance at the Parliament House.
Even a casual listener of Indian music would say this person was “besuri”, completely off key. How she managed to pass muster at a premier performance should perhaps be left to some parliamentary committee to find out. But despair not.
The very next day, there was this great discovery. Buddhaditya Mukherjee, one of the truly gifted sitar players of the current generation, sprang a lovely surprise on us — his 18-year-old son, Bijoyaditya Mukherjee. The little master played Raag Bihaag, a lilting evening melody to a full house unending applause at Delhi’s Kamani auditorium. He was electric, just like his father, who made his debut on the same stage 25 years ago. In a manner of speaking the day was Bijoyaditya’s “bismillah”, a day of auspicious beginning. I would like to inform you that a new star is born to Indian music.
NOW that the deluge is departing, albeit at its own slow pace, it is time to think of what to do next. We cannot really blame the rainwaters for having overstayed their welcome. We have kept the exits closed, blocked, obstructed, jammed, indeed sealed. These waters we are fretting and fuming about with such self-righteousness have been more wronged by us than they may have wronged us by their incarceration by us.
There was a time our ancients used to wait for these rather extra-generous rains because, as our ancestors wisely expected that, when these waters would start receding they would carry them so much of the accumulated garbage that in those ancient days they did not have the mechanical means to dispose of. Every few years or so, such heavy downpours were prayed for and when they did come our ancestors thanked heavens for having listened to their passionate pleas.
This season in Sindh we have received some admittedly unusually heavy and almost uninterrupted showers over most of the province, specially in its southern regions. Badin is said to be in particularly unhappy shape. As for the response from the Sindh and Federal governments, it may be said with good conscience that, as governments go in the Third World, they remain beyond reproach.
This is being said for their readiness to react — as governments react. They have not been slow or niggardly with offer and release of funds. Relief work on the ground has been visible, even if it remained inadequate. The services deployed their resources — men, boats as well as helicopters. It would not be incorrect to say that at more places all this added up to less than what was needed. But it would be less than fair to rub that point. What was manifestly lacking was not the will or commitment to serve but organization.
Relief and rehabilitation is the kind of work that calls for being prepared for it well in advance. Better organized administrations anticipate problems and keep in readiness to cope with them without any avoidable delay. They act and act in time. What we do is to react and invariably well after even the easily avoidable misery to human beings has been caused and physical damage done.
There is no great point in shedding tears and wasting time over what has happened. The time now is to make a thorough survey of the entire province and identify those parts of the province that are more vulnerable in such situations. Plans to meet emergency in these areas should be worked out with the contribution from all relevant branches of the administration and certainly not in isolation with the armed services officers.
If Badin has been the worst affected, let us have a detailed Badin-specific emergency plan, quite as there should be a Tharparkar-specific drill. Likewise there should be emergency relief plans for the rest of the province. As soon as the Met people announce the Monsoon is round the corner these plans should be pulled out from the shelves, duly dusted and gone over carefully. All relevant departments, services and personnel be altered. Relief Centres in the Governor’s House and the Chief Minister’s House should be there in full shape and well rehearsed days before the first drop of the storm season falls from the clouded skies.
Now that the waters have all but receded from most of the flood-affected areas, what do they leave behind? The gaping holes in the main thoroughfares of the main cities are all too visible to go unnoticed. Some of these prestigious arteries of city life were constructed no more than a few years ago. We have had some excess of rains this year after a long gap. Indeed, we were still wailing over the longest drought in Sindh’s living memory when the first rain struck.
What do these broken roads tell us? Some, like the main street in Gulistan-i-Johar. Was constructed (if that is construction!) only a few years ago. Not more than seven year, by any reckoning. It has disappeared. Indeed, it had all but disappeared long before the first drop fell from above. This is not history. The province has hundreds of such instances of public works that had been paid amply for and have turned out to be too feeble to withstand one season’s showers.
It should be possible to go back to the files and fish out the facts about the ministers, high-ranking bureaucrats, public work department’s top notches who have together presided over this stinking scandals. Now we have elected governments all over — from the village to the federal capital. They are supposed to be guardians of public interest, specially public money. Every piece or project in the areas of public works that has been damaged by these rains should be inspected and it should be determined who has sanctioned the contracts, paid out the contractors and who the contractors were.
Justice would demand a thorough probe into this mess and the entire of it. We have to thank the rains for having exposed these fearsome monuments to this combination of corruption and inefficiency in what must be seen to the highest rungs of government services. For the endless line of damage that mocks us after the rains have stopped and accumulated waters recede, holds a mirror to the performance of the public works officialdom and the politicians who may have presided over them.
It is time to remind ourselves that the first of the Pyramids of Giza was constructed in 2659 BC — 4,652 years ago. And they stand without scratch, not to speak of a crack. Mughals forts, palaces and gardens are still intact. Mughal Emperor built The Taj Mahal. It was completed in 1648. It remains the Seventh Wonder of the world. There is no counting the noble buildings that dot the subcontinent, including Pakistan. The Chinese built the Great Wall, 2,400-kilometre long, in 210BC, that makes it 2,213 years old. It is still there, standing defiantly straight and firm as it did on its first day.
Now we hear, and television has shown, that some sections of the highway along the Balochistan coast have been washed away. Be it noted that this great monument to our road-construction skills is still under construction, and parts of it have disappeared. Shershah Suri built the Trunk Road from one end of the north of the subcontinent to other in shorter time and with more amenities than Nawaz Sharif’s Motorway.
Imagine the quality of inheritance left to us by our ancestors and what a bad joke our public works bureaucracy has made of it. Don’t blame the rains. Look at the putrid quality of public work we live with.
It is often said that other than eating out, the people of the city have few entertainment options. For starters, the statement is not wholly correct, for concerts, dance performances, art exhibitions, film screenings and other cultural events have been taking place in the city with increasing frequency. It is just a matter of finding out where and when these events are taking place. But let us assume for the sake of argument that the statement is true. What if eating out was the only option open to the people of Karachi? The city, after all, has an enormous number of people interested in gastronomic delights.
Indeed if eating out is our only strength, let us celebrate the fact! At a recent dinner, two friends were debating about just how variegated Karachi’s palate is. The conclusion both gentlemen reached was that this city has enough culinary variety to match any other city’s food streets and avenues.
Considering Karachi’s cosmopolitan nature, one can find delicacies from practically any and every part of the world. Take a drive from the sandy outskirts of Surjani to the city’s very own slice of third-world Riviera, Seaview, to get a taste of just what is available. There are eateries to suit every pocket, social stratum and taste bud. All that is required is a little cash in the pocket and the spirit of adventure. A hearty stomach and a well-oiled digestive system are added bonuses.
For novices or those new to the city, there is the nerve centre, the mother ship, if you will, of strips that specialize in eateries, such as the one on Burnes Road. Though for the residents of the city it has become a little run-of-the-mill, if all other options are exhausted, Burnes Road serves as Old Faithful. From delectable kebabs (in more varieties than one would like to count) of both the Meerut and Delhi schools of kabab-ology to roadside karhai served with raita tinged with a spot of mint and chapatis (though karhai purists baulk at the thought of having their favourite dish with anything less than the fluffiest of roghni naans), this strip of congested eating houses is a food-lover’s paradise. Then of course there is the sinfully sweet rabri, along with the creamy kheer which has a texture to die for.
If one is not in the mood for desi food, no worries, as the city has its fair share of foreign-themed eateries. Chinese restaurants don’t count, as almost anyone can set up a ramshackle operation and call it Chinese by virtue of selling a couple of dishes of fried rice and greasy spring rolls. But moving further east into the Orient, Karachi boasts at least two Japanese eateries and even a Korean restaurant. Portuguese fast food chicken, American burgers, Italian pasta, South Indian fare and Arabian cuisine (other than the roadside shawarma stalls) are but a few of the choices available for the people of Karachi.
One can go on and on with a description of mouthwatering delights. But the thing is, Karachi’s gastronomical culture is one of its strongest points, and should be highlighted as such. Just don’t overeat if you are conscious about putting on the pounds. And plus, all this food will have little effect if one maintains a healthy exercise regimen. So let us all be proud of the fact that our city has so much to offer in terms of culinary choices.
A visit to a downtown pharmacy could be quite a learning experience for a citizen of this city. Here you can obtain a rare insight into the state of governance in the country, particularly the health delivery system. Go to one of the wholesale pharmaceutical distributors and ask for the medicine prescribed by your physician. What you are supplied with would be the best, no doubt. But don’t be intrigued by some marker scribbles you might find on the packet.
This was a constant source of curiosity to a heart patient who buys his medicines from this market. No matter how hard he tried, he could never find out what had been rendered invisible by the marker scribbles. One day, it seems, the overwriting pen had failed to do its job properly, and the heart patient finally read the original text. The packet carried the stamp of a major public-sector health facility for cardiac diseases.
It is plain that some unscrupulous people are pilfering medicines from the pharmacy of this health facility and selling them secretly. Now we know where the drugs of many public-sector hospitals, purchased with the money of taxpayers, are going.
The needy patients who go to government hospitals are often asked to buy medicine from the market. Their complaints about shortage of medicines in public-sector health facilities go unheeded. They do not have many options. They can borrow, beg or steal to buy costly medicine to save their lives. Alternatively, they can live with their heart problem till it gets the better of them.
The reason why life after rains in Karachi is getting back to normal at a painfully slow pace is that those at the helm of affairs are a divided lot. The Jamaat-led city government and the Muttahida-dominated Sindh government have refused to play ball with each other.
According to news reports, Karachi Nazim Naimatullah Khan met Sindh Chief Minister Ali Mohammad Mahar to ask him to stop his ministers from meddling in the affairs of the city government. However, one does not have to be an astute political analyst to figure out that, at present, these matters are not uppermost in the chief minister’s mind.
As rumours about his displacement surface on and off, Mr Mahar seems to spend more time following the itinerary of his intractable ministers travelling to Islamabad — and London, of course — than exercising the executive powers he is vested with.
The Nazims and the provincial ministers are working at cross purposes. While the Muttahida Quami Movement is running a relief campaign for those affected by the rains, the city government has initiated a ten-day cleanliness drive and the Karachi Building Control Authority recently launched an anti-encroachment campaign in a locality on a court order.
Granted, all these campaigns are for the good of the city, but aren’t the Sindh government and the city government supposed to work towards the common purpose of bringing relief to the scores of thousands whose houses have been severely damaged and towards rebuilding the city’s infrastructure, especially roads and bridges?
Seeing is believing. Head for the Clifton beach at once. Without having to strain your eyes, you can spot the stranded oil tanker Tasman Spirit near the coast. News reports say that this Greek-registered oil tanker, chartered by the Pakistan National Shipping Corporation, is carrying more than 62,000 tonnes of crude oil. It ran aground at Keamari channel recently.
Environmentalists are alarmed at the obvious understatement by the Karachi Port Trust about the tanker springing a “minor leak.” This is yet to be verified by independent experts. No independent agency, such as the International Union for Conservation of Nature, has been allowed to monitor the leak.
A ship has also come to Karachi to which oil from the tanker will be transferred. One hopes that the operation is carried out with dispatch and the transfer of crude oil takes place without any untoward incident. Meanwhile, we need credible information about the extent of the oil spill that has already taken place and the harm it has done. Official reticence about the matter can hardly bring reassurance.
One cannot help recalling here that in June 1979 a Polish ship, M.V. Traugatt, caught fire at the port and finally ran aground at the Clifton beach. Five years later, an oil barge, Akbar, sank at the Keamari channel, discharging 700 tonnes of crude oil.
— By Karachian
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