THE District Government Complex is among those few buildings in Faisalabad, which are of historical significance. However, it is never reckoned or treated as such.
The building's foundation was laid in May 1926 at an estimated cost of Rs1,97,832 at that time. Spread over 31 kanals (having a covered area of 33,005 square feet, besides courtyard and verandas of 27,469 square feet), it was named the 'District Board.'
From 1960 to 1975, it came to known as the District Council building. Thereafter, till 2001, it was called the Zila Council complex. With the introduction of devolution of power plan, it was again renamed the District Government Complex on Aug 14, 2001. At present, the offices of the district Nazim and Naib Nazim are working here.
The building is a real blend of British and local architecture. The influence of the west is evident, but the design concept is conventional, and that makes it a true example of the transitional era. The pointed arches of the Mughal architecture and circular arches of British heritage are applied side by side. It is one and the only building here whose exterior is plastered with cement.
During the British rule, it was used as Assembly House of the members of the district board and its sessions used to be held in the main hall. With an altitude of 38 feet, the main hall was known as one of the best in the province altitude-wise and from the point of view of bricks, arches, grills and the quality of workmanship. The hall remained till early 1990s a hub of literary activities, debates, seminars, symposia and workshops because of its ideal location, space and infrastructure.
Its entire furniture, dais and rostrum were got prepared in resemblance with the House of Commons of the UK. The board chairman used to sit under a wooden umbrella similar to that of the Speaker of the House of Commons, which is still intact.
Unfortunately, one of the chairmen of the defunct zila council destroyed the hall's grandeur in 1985. The altitude was reduced from 38 feet to 26 feet, while on the ground floor, a committee room and some offices were established that were later rented out to a number of government offices. At present, an area of 3,040 square feet is occupied by the Divisional Election Commission.
The brick-lines, which once presented a beautiful view, have been destroyed by whitewashes. The original colour of the bricks has changed into yellow or blue. A leading architect condemned this alteration, commenting that those who had no sense of history and pride of their generation and had entered the corridors of power, felt pleased to destroy history.
Another regrettable aspect was that no organization of the district or any architect or government functionary took notice of the way the Jinnah Hall was buried in dust.
Fountains in and around the building were typical of the Mughal architecture. Now these are in bad shape. The beauty of the layout is that the main gate of the building is exactly in front of the Clock Tower. The central lines of the Clock Tower and the gate are congruent. In front of the gate, there used to be a fountain located exactly at the same central line.
There used to be three symmetrically placed windows with beautiful parapets on the front side on the ground floor situated between two small and beautiful domes, which provided a beautiful view and proper ventilation. The central window was partially closed and sealed with a glass pane. The two side windows were closed with bricks as a result of which the front view of the entrance has been marred.
To further undermine the grandeur of the building and its elevation, a number of buildings were established, including a Habib Bank branch, a canteen, a cycle stand and some offices.
Similarly, the open area of the building, which used to be a grassy plot, was converted into various buildings, including the chairman's office, and offices of the local government assistant director. The beautiful residential quarters were also got vacated and rented out to various offices, including the one of the Anti-Corruption Department.
Labhu Ram's theatre
By Lahori
In Song Sung True, the autobiography by Malika Pukhraj, the following account of the theatre appears in the first half of the book: In Jammu, there was no form of entertainment, neither cinema nor theatre. Sometimes a raas was arranged. In this, half a dozen boys would sing and dance. It took the organizers a couple of days to get one of these together.
They would spread out a huge durree in the bazaar. The boys would all be well dressed, some wearing female attire. A harmonium and a dholak formed their accompaniment. The raas would begin with a boy, a black cloth covering his face and bells wrapped around his ankles, beginning to sing and dance.
The words would be Come, O wild one. I enjoyed watching the 'wild one' so much that I am sure that even the best theatres in England would not entertain me as much today. I would wait with eager anticipation for the black cloth to be removed and for the moment when we would see the face below it. When the heart is happy, the most insignificant things give pleasure.
I am talking about the time when I was still employed. Master Labhu Ram's theatre arrived in the kingdom for the first time. His Highness was away in England. Everyday, a man in a tonga would beat his drum and announce all over town: "Do not miss this wonderful opportunity. Master Labhu Ram's wonderful theatre is going to stage the famous story of Shirin and Farhad".
We made all the arrangements in advance so that we got the best seats closest to the stage. Who knows where they had got the fifteen or twenty old sofas that we sat on!
The seats on the old sofas cost three rupees each. The steel chairs at the back cost one rupee and it cost eight annas to sit on the durree. After anxiously waiting for two or three days, we reached there early and took our seats on the rickety sofas.
The curtain rose and six or seven boys, who looked as if they had just emerged from sacks of flour, appeared. Their faces, plastered with cheap powder and cosmetics, were ghastly white and their clothes dirty.
They sang the song that was usually sung at the beginning of theatre performances and retreated behind the curtains. We were so close to the stage that we could hear and see every thing that was going on in the wings and behind the scenes.
The boys were fighting amongst themselves over whose turn it was to go on stage next. Each was pointing at the other. In the course of the argument, someone pushed the actor playing the role of the trouble-making kutni on to the stage.
She, appeared, a basket on her head and a broom in her hand, and started wailing very loudly, "Hai, hai what a calamity! Shirin is dead". In the script of the play, the king had arranged with the kutni to spread the false news that Shirin had died.
This, he had hoped, would cause Farhad, her grieving lover to either commit suicide or leave the kingdom. With the appearance of the kutni the play was supposed to end. Naturally, the curtain came down.
Master Labhu Ram appeared on stage to apologize. The kutni had appeared by mistake, he explained. The play was going to begin all over again. Slowly, the curtain rose again. Khusrau, the king, dressed in the uniform of a bandmaster, was sitting, proud and angry, on a chair. Next to him was a half-naked Farhad with a shovel in his hands.
The curtain was only half way up when the king began, in tones meant to inspire awe: "Do you not know who I am? I am the ba..." He didn't manage to complete the sentence boasting that he was the badshah of Iran.
He had just uttered the syllable ba when the curtain came crashing down on his head. The badshah fainted and fell, feet up in the air and head on the ground. They had to carry him off stage!
Master Labhu Ram appeared on the stage again to apologize for the unfortunate happenings. People could come back and see the show again the next day with the same tickets, he assured the audience.
NOTE: Malika Pukhraj does not give any date in her autobiography. So it has to be largely guesswork as to what happened when. And when it comes to guesswork your guess is as good as mine.
Why film stars, why not politicians
By Jawed Naqvi
It is axiomatic that politics is not for the weak-hearted. Critics poke fun at their leaders and cast aspersions on their integrity. Worse, people often begin to believe these charges, which turns them into full-blown scandals.
There are of course antidotes for all the troubles politicians face at the hands of their tormentors. Bill Clinton employed his trademark sang-froid to overcome the Monica Lewinsky crisis and ended his innings as a popular American president despite the scandal.
Some countries such as Britain erect a legal wall to protect their head of state from gossip and innuendo, or even from political criticism. Yet there are often determined folks and institutions that challenge the selective censorship. London's Private Eye magazine insisted on calling Queen Elizabeth 'Brenda' and gave the House of Windsor far from an easy time in public life.
In South Asia, regardless of the laws, even martial laws, people have seldom wavered from venting their true feelings about their leaders. The Yahya Khan and Ziaul Haq jokes reverberated through the world courtesy many an exiled Pakistani. There is never a dearth of Nawaz Sharif and Asif Zardari stories to regale a visitor with a willing ear even today.
In India too, law and a sort of convention protect the head of state from public comment. In the absence of a Private Eye to defy the silly rule, the rest of the media too is not bothered.
But prime ministers do get the full measure of the public's vitriol and loaded gossip. Be it Jawaharlal Nehru's alleged affair with Edwina Mountbatten or the claims by M.O. Mathai, Nehru's personal secretary, of his amorous moments with Indira Gandhi, they are well documented. If you can't find them in a decent library you could visit the proxy website run by a political rival for all the juice.
More often than not gossip, or even 'curious facts' about politicians are circulated by their rivals. Thus a dormant fact about an individual, hitherto of little public consequence, and which may have been lingering harmlessly for years, could suddenly grab the headlines. Clearly, more than the lurid facts, it is the timing of their 'revelations' that is sometimes the real clincher.
Take, for example, the plight of India's film star turned politician Dharmendra, of late known by his fuller name as Dharmendra Singh Deol. He is a candidate in India's current parliamentary polls.
It turns out, according to the claims presented by his political rivals in a law court in Indore, that Dharmendra 'married' his heroine Hema Malini in 1980, when he was already a married man.
Since it is legally impermissible for a Hindu man to have more than one wife, Dharmendra and Hema Malini are said to have become Muslims, changing their names to Dilawar Khan and Ayesha Begum, respectively.
For nearly a quarter century no one cared. Here was a popular movie couple. It didn't even seem to matter whether they were married or not. But it was not just indifference by the public; they were lucky too.
By contrast, the more celebrated actor Dilip Kumar, though a Muslim by birth and faith, which allowed him to have more than one wife, had to give up his second one, as soon as the first wife, and the media, got wind of his secret second wedding.
Dharmendra's troubles are rooted in the double standards Indians apply on issues such as the one confronting him today. The crucial moment that went against him was when he named his first wife as his only wife and declared himself as Dharmendra and not as Dilawar Khan.
The personal details were required from him as a pre-election requirement for him to become an eligible candidate for the Bharatiya Janata Party. Now he is in trouble with both, the women and the law.
So what's in a name? Don't ask Dharmendra. The short point is that he could have two wives only if both were Muslim as he too became. And since this does not seem to be the case, there are going to be legal consequences. Dharmendra was better off before he got involved in the murky world of politics.
As Indian prime ministers go few seem to have been as pampered by the media as Mr Atal Bihari Vajpayee has been. But even he was not spared when the Tehelka scandal erupted and his 'foster son-in-law' was named in it.
At that time Mr Vajpayee also became the target of his own party rivals who, finding him vulnerable, mounted a challenge to his leadership. It was only after he threatened to quit that his colleagues were finally tamed.
Yet there is something curious about the way Mr Vajpayee's 'foster family' has never been put under public gaze, far less under any scrutiny, even though several public figures from his own party, including the movie star named above, have been given a hard peep into their private lives.
This is odd since everyone knows everything that Mr Vajpayee's party cares to tell the world about the opposition leader Sonia Gandhi's private and public life. According to a rare account on a website that gives a small glimpse into his personal life, in March 2001, Mr Vajpayee's 'closest friend', one Mrs Kishen Kaul, with whom he has lived for 50 years suffered a heart attack.
This was the time when his government was facing the full blast of the opposition charges over the Tehelka episode. "Mr Vajpayee is distressed and cancelled all his engagements to sit by the side of his life-long friend," the report said.
It quoted sources at the prime minister's residence, where Mrs Kaul stays, as saying that she had been giving 'mental strength despite her illness' to Mr Vajpayee who was distressed at the opposition members 'dubbing him 'chor'(thief) in parliament..
Most Indian newspapers have shown a healthy lack of interest in the so-called foster family that Mr Vajpayee lives with. People take it with a sense of humour and regard the issue with an air of political correctness.
Do the people need to know who these nice people are who surround the powerful leader of a nuclear nation? Is there a legal basis to the 'foster family'? Do they enjoy the kind of security cover that was once sought to be denied to the, shall we say, 'more immediate family' of other former prime ministers? Why should a movie actor be probed about his personal life and not others?
Trotsky's grandson on family's plight
By Bahzad Alam Khan
Esteban Volkov was barely 14 when his maternal grandfather, Leon Trotsky, was assassinated in Mexico where the dissident intellectual was living in exile after crossing swords with Stalin.
Volkov recently turned 78. "I am the only person in the family to reach my age," he says grimly. Almost all of Trotsky's relations - his first wife, his sister, his brother, a son, two sons-in-law and three nephews - were arrested and shot dead by the Stalinist regime. Another son was assassinated. Other family members disappeared or were harried to death.
Volkov, who was in Pakistan on a two-week visit from Mexico, has evidently recounted his woeful tale so many times that the entire episode sounds like a well-rehearsed speech. And yet many who heard him speak in broken English at the launching ceremony in Karachi of the Urdu translation of his grandfather's autobiography were visibly moved.
"My father, Platon Volkov, was gunned down at some unknown date in the 1930s. My mother left the Soviet Union with me, leaving behind my half-sister because she was allowed to take only one child. The torment and anguish she suffered at the hands of the Soviet government pushed her to suicide in 1933," he recalls.
Volkov takes a dim view of the manner in which Trotsky has been portrayed in two Hollywood films - The Assassination of Trotsky (in which Richard Burton with his immaculate British accent plays the Ukrainian-born intellectual with a goatee) and Frida (played by Salma Hayek) - both of which he says take considerable liberties with historical facts.
"Neither film portrays Trotsky as he was. Both are based on stereotypes. The original script of The Assassination of Trotsky sought to put forward the Stalinist version of history. It was reported that a Russian diplomat offered large sums of money to the filmmaker to change the fateful scene in which Trotsky grapples with his assassin.
Ironically, the diplomat was killed in a plane crash. We objected to the script of the movie and ensured that the historical inaccuracies it contained were removed before it was finally made into a movie," he recalls.
Volkov refrains from criticising Frida, though it is obvious that he is not enamoured of the movie. Speaking about Mexican artist Frida Kahlo, whom he knew very well as a child, he says: "She was a wonderful person. She was very warm. And she had great capacity for seduction. Many people had a very close relationship were her."
Reluctantly, he concedes that Trotsky may have had an affair with Frida. "He was after all a man," he argues. Volkov has converted Trotsky's house in Mexico to a museum. He is happy about the fact that more than 24,000 of Trotsky's admirers visit the museum every year. Volkov has preserved all the objects which were in Trotsky's use, including his spectacles which got broken during his struggle with his killer.
"A large number of Mexicans come to the museum because the Russian revolution is now taught in the country. We also receive visitors from Russia. But after what our family had to go through because of Russia, I am allergic to the country," he says dourly.
Missing officials
By Karachian
Speakers at a seminar the other day observed that the preservation of the country's cultural and historical heritage was low on the list of government officials' priorities.
Their assessment was spot on, for many distinguished functionaries whose names were mentioned on the invitation card did not turn up. The seminar was jointly organized by the federal culture and tourism ministry, the Sindh culture department and Unesco.
Sindh Governor Dr Ishratul Ibad did not come. The federal culture secretary, Jalil Abbas, was also missing. Unesco director Ingeborg Breines did not turn up and instead sent a junior official who too left at around 3pm when the meeting was still in progress.
The Sindh Culture Minister, Shabbir Ahmed Qaimkhani, came late and left early after delivering a brief speech. (He said his wonderment knew no bounds when a delegate at an international seminar in Sri Lanka told him that Moenjodaro was in India!)
The audience was actually so thin that the organizers decided to move to a smaller room because the large hall, originally booked for the seminar, was only patchily occupied. The numbers dwindled so much after lunch that the meeting, which was scheduled to continue till 5.30pm, came to an end at around 4pm.
'Excursion special'
Someone going through old Dawn files has reported coming across an advertisement from the North-Western Railway (as PR was then known) in the issue dated Sept 1, 1950. The advertisement relates to an "excursion special" between Karachi and Nathiagali and including Taxila, Abbotabad and Mansehra en route.
It says the excursion is "inclusive rail and road transport, toll and meal charges". The prices mentioned are Ist Class Rs325-13-0 and IInd Class Rs224-6-0 (it was rupees, annas, pies in those days.)
The point is not about prices, but why has the NWR's successor PR stopped organizing low-cost summer excursions to the north? The railways is losing passengers to road transport at an alarming rate. Middle-class families do not travel because of exorbitant fares. The railways needs some special packages or offers to get at least some people back to rail travel, which many still consider a civilized way to travel than by air or by road.
For shopkeepers' benefit
Gulshan-i-Iqbal is a vast area. It stretches from the old Sabzi Mandi to the University of Karachi. Its population must be a minimum of two million. It has four of the city's arteries running across it - University Road, Rashid Minhas Road, Stadium Road and Abul Hasan Ispahani Road. Yet, amazing as it may sound, it has no footpaths.
The planners must have provided for sidewalks. But the situation today is that there are no footpaths in Gulshan-i-Iqbal. What is more, the width of these arteries has been narrowed to accommodate the shopkeepers' ever-increasing appetite for space.
Take, as an example, the road that runs between Bhayani Heights and Gulshan Chowrangi. What should have been a footpath is now a 15-ft strip which shopkeepers have been officially allowed to use. Snack bar owners place chairs and tables, while other traders display washing machines, fans, fridges, sanitary wares, etc.
After this strip, there is a so-called footpath which is further occupied by vendors. This gobbles up 30 per cent of the road's width. Then cars are parked diagonally to this so-called footpath. This way, 50 per cent of the road is lost.
The same is true of University Road and Rashid Minhas Road running from the Drigh Road railway station to the Superhighway. Evidently, officials have come to an arrangement with shopkeepers all along the four thoroughfares, and the arrangements suit all except the pedestrian.
Will anyone in the city government look into this?
Katrak Hall encroachments
The residents of Katrak Hall and the Zoroastrian Club compound, two of the oldest Parsi residential areas in the city, are worried that encroachments will soon take over their entire area while the city administration looks the other way.
Repeated appeals for help have fallen on deaf ears as the people of these compounds point out that whenever an anti-encroachment drive is carried out in and near the Empress Market, all the vendors converge on their area, causing chaos in the locality and inconvenience to the residents.
What was once a peaceful residential area has been turned into a mess as hordes of people pass through it and scores of vendors make it their place of business.
The biggest dilemma is the involvement of no less than four civic bodies in this area which very conveniently put the blame on one another, with no action taken. The shops on both sides of Katrak Road, once illegal and now legalized by the Karachi Cantonment Board (KCB), have been extended beyond their limits.
Some shops have been converted into roadside cafes with tables, chairs and benches spread out on the road. They have no proper drainage system and their waste is thrown on the street, adding to the mess in the area.
The unauthorized inter-city bus depot in Lines Area which extends up to the Karachi Grammar School is another problem. New buses are being added regularly to the existing fleet.
Their illegal and unruly parking not only causes traffic jams but is also a reason for frequent accidents and poses dangers for pedestrians. Bus owners have occupied all vacant plots in this area and turned them into their city servicing/passenger terminals. The area cries out for help.
Underpass hazards
Sindh Chief Minister Ali Mohammad Mahar's statement about the need for Karachi to have 10 underpasses is welcome. At least it serves to show that a chief minister representing a rural constituency is interested in Karachi's problems. Where one differs with him is on his preference for underpasses.
One does not know whether underpasses are costlier or cheaper than flyovers. But they certainly need more care. Because they are like tunnels, they need machinery to suck out toxic and polluted air and get fresh air in big blasts. Flyovers do not need all this because they are open.
The greater danger lies during the rains. It either does not rain in Karachi, or it rains cats and dogs. This leads to flash- floods. In such a situation, thousands of cars may be trapped if there are no proper arrangements for draining flood water.
As it is, when it rains, cars are trapped in Karachi on surface roads; one can imagine what the situation will be in underpasses if Karachi has one of its occasional cloudbursts.
The chief minister would do well to ask his engineers to do some study on the relative merits and demerits of underpasses and flyovers before settling for the former.
Right turns
Why do the traffic engineering people assume that traffic turning right is of low volume?
There are some exceptions. For instance, vehicles turning right at Hassan Square have a fairly reasonable time-span; so also the right turn at Nipa Chowrangi for all sides. But there are some spots where the time to go right is painfully short.
One particularly difficult spot is the Shaheen complex round-about for traffic coming from a five-star hotel. Here traffic toward Hindu Gymkhana has 10 seconds in which to turn right.
This road is used by buses, oil tankers, water tankers and trucks of all sorts. Besides, traffic coming from the S.M. Law College does not stop even when it is time for it to. The result is that hardly two or three vehicles are able to turn right before it is red again.
The same is true of the traffic signals at M.A. Jinnah Road for traffic flowing on the Aga Khan III Road coming from Saddar and turning toward the Quaid's mazar. Hardly half a dozen vehicles are able to make it.