| 08 August 2004 | Sunday | 21 Jamadi-us-Saani 1425 |
The 'staging bungalow' with a history
What if it had rained in July, and our current monsoon season was not as dry and in fact barren as it has been. What if it had been raining in the city when we saw the blue moon on July 31.
It has begun to get wet and there has been drizzle in the city as I write this column, and wonder about the weather that lies ahead. A 'rain emergency' has alrady been declared in Sindh, particularly in its lower areas that include Karachi too. This is a city that has not responded to rain with happiness one may recall.
What is the relationship between the "once in a blue moon" experience that the city underwent on Saturday last, and the rain, someone may ask. On the face of it, perhaps, there is none, except that it is believed, generally speaking, that it rains in Karachi seldom and sparingly. Despite the fact that rains make the city suffer, and the misery that it brings to the poor and the less privileged, the Karachiites too, like the rest of the country, yearn for rain.
In fact, now that July has gone and August enters the second week, one has noticed a certain regret at the fact that it has not really rained as yet, and that soon, very soon the monsoon season will be over. I have heard citizens talk with a definite sadness, betraying an attitude that seemed to imply that there was some sort of a man-made scheme to deny rains to the city! Thank God, that is not so, and cannot be!!
The general feeling is that it "rains in Karachi once in a blue moon." And this makes one realize that the subject today is rain and moon, both, and both bring much poetry to mind. But let me focus on this friend of mine, who is happy for having been through the "once in a blue moon" feeling, and the fact that it has been a rain-free July!!! Why is he happy that there has been an almost dry monsoon? I tried to probe his mind and he was willing to talk about it.
He made it clear to me that he liked the rains, even in Karachi. He talked about the many lovely experiences that he has had whenever it has rained in the past. He became somewhat nostalgic about the monsoons. But because he has always had a very sharp sense of realism, he is very conscious of the way in which city life gets disrupted when it rains.
The shortest spell of rain can make our traffic get suffocating, and life in the metropolitan city can get messy and still more handicapped. It's just that neither the authorities, nor the people are prepared for rain, in the real sense. There is a lot of pompous official rhetoric about the measures to 'tackle' monsoon, duly publicized by the the administration, that often proves hollow. A reality check exposes the worth of the checklist that has been drawn up.
My friend went on with his description of what happens to the city when it rains. There is water accumulated on the roads and residential areas, and residents suffer stink and filth for days, at times weeks. Sewerage lines can overflow, and residents in the old Karachi areas, or in the low-lying ones, including the less privileged sections of the society, can have problems with their housing and often they do. (And yet they want the rains, these people). Of course, there are power failures and fluctuations and at times the scale of the failure can be enormously frustrating.
The KESC will find reasons and justifications for its performance, and we will be amused. The PTCL will also contribute its share of the let down, and mercifully we are not as dependent on it now as we were before. Don't remind me of the unhappiness and the humiliation of subscribers who even now are harassed by telephone linemen, a breed of people which still exists, and whose likes also thrive in other sectors of our lives.
When it rains, public transport almost disappears, or turns still more expensive. Attendance in offices will drop and attitudes to work will turn still more indifferent. Inefficiency will thrive in the name of rain.
I saw some sense in the relief that this friend of mine felt from the fact that it had not rained in Karachi, and I would like to imagine that even the 'concerned authorities' are pleased at the performance of the Nature. No rain, no test, no failure and no further image undoing.
Of course, Karachi should have had its share of rain, and peoplemay have been able to experience the joy that it brings. I too am inconvenienced when it rains, but I would still vote for it.
How close we came to rain this monsoon was something that was so interesting. The Met Office's forecast for Karachi often predicted rain, but in vain. Some parts of the city did get it, and others didn't. That's the way it was. People have joked about the weather, and demonstrated their disbelief for the Met Office. Disbelief, that is such an integral part of our perception on umpteen issues.
At the start of the monsoon season the Met Office had forecast above-normal rainfall this season, but then 'modified' its prediction, saying that the rainfall would be below normal. Water shortage in the country, in Sindh, and in Karachi reflects a below-normal monsoon in the country.
I am keen to talk of the blue moon that we had, and the way its presence was felt in the city that night. I would have wanted it to be more noticed, and as a friend suggested that it should have been celebrated. But before one does focus on the moon, (howsoever inadequate be it) let me mention that the Sindh government's declaration of emergency for the "anticipated heavy rainfall" is for Aug 8, Sunday (today).
The wet weather that finally made its presence felt since Friday evening has suddenly become integral to our conversations. Will the rains bring relief, and that inner peace and tranquillity that the city's soul needs? Will it be a blessing or will it be another source of unhappiness, to say the least. I can hear the groans of a restless traffic jam from my office as I write, and vehicular traffic is moving painfully slow, while drivers are blowing horns, symbolizing the anxiety and the panic of the urban mind. The urban heart, forever driven by insecurity?
So trapped in the trivia and routine of urban living, perhaps Karachiites never realized like this other friend of mine about the fact that the blue moon was something to take notice of. People were so busy that they did not find time to look up at the sky, at the moon, and feel its majestic presence, remarked one person, and elaborated to say that it was rare that people in Karachi reflected awareness of the full moon every month. That being so how would they know that there was a blue moon in their midst on that night.
I was one of those who were conscious of the "blue moon" from the time a newspaper report mentioned it. There was a certain quiet curiosity about how the city would approach that day, that night. But perhaps the city has its own sorrows, priorities, challenges and barriers to overcome. Who cares for the moon? said a voice within. Of course I was reminded of a friend of mine from the Karachi University who always mentioned adoringly one of his classmates, and likened her face to the moon!!!
Here is a quote from the American poet, Carl Sandburg, about the moon, which reads thus: "the moon is a friend for the lonesome to talk to." That is the impact of the moon, its emotive value in our lives. The beloved's mystery? Compared to the moon?
Let us return to Karachi and how that blue moon was experienced by the city. Virtually no newspaper had a descriptive account of it.
The blue moon, seen throughout the country, lasted for hours late into the night. The last time a blue moon was observed in the country was in July 2001, and the "phenomenon" occurred after a gap of almost three years. This July saw two full moons, first on July 2nd and the second one on July 31.
Where did the expression "once in a blue moon" come from? They say it was first noted in 1824 and "refers to occurrences that are uncommon, perhaps even rare."
The 'staging bungalow' with a history
In the beginning, on the mound outside the old walled city of Lahore, there was a staging bungalow, from where stagecoaches would leave for other cities. In even older times it was a staging area where troops would train and then leave for battle. Today many a career takes off, and, hopefully, will do so in the centuries to come.
In the days when Maharajah Ranjit Singh reigned supreme (1799-1839), on the mound where today stands the Government College, Lahore, there was a military training center. Just next to the mound, where the troops of the elite "Fauj-e-Khaas" trained, was the staging area. On the mound was built a bungalow, which was, as the records of the Sikh-era show, called the 'staging bungalow'. An 1867 map of Lahore confirms this fact. On the left was a chapel that was latter to be incorporated into the college as a Gymnasium; a derelict building that today needs considerable funds to convert it into a 'Government College Museum'. But more of that latter.
According to a well-known writer on Lahore, Latif, the first classes of the King Edward Medical College, Lahore, were held in 1860 in this staging bungalow, while the hospital was established in the stables of Raja Suchet Singh's 'haveli' in the main Tibbi Bazaar near the Taxali Gate. When the British for "military reasons" demolished the beautiful Taxali Gate, this hospital was also lost. But by then it had moved to the present Mayo Hospital.
In 1856 the East India Company approved the establishment of a Central College in Lahore. Towards this end the Punjab's Director of Public Instruction entered into "correspondence" with the Dean of Carlisle and with the Rev. G.E.L. Cotton, the Headmaster of Marlborough School, England, "with the view of selecting two suitable graduates from Home for appointment as Principal and 'Physical Tutor of Natural Philosophy'. A 'handsome' salary of Rs. 600 and Rs. 400 was offered.
The 'handsome prospects' did not attract the correct candidates, and so the East India Company decided to constitute a board comprising Rev. Cotton, Rev, A.P. Stanley, Canon of Canterbury, and Mr. T. Walround, Fellow of Balliol, Oxford, who suggested that only graduates from Cambridge, Oxford, Dublin or Durham should be considered as this would be a "prestige posting". So from the very beginning Government College, Lahore, was, and is still, considered to be a very special institution, or at least it has so proved as the years pass.
It was then considered that for excellence in philosophy, a Professor of Mathematics was essential. The Lt. Governor of the Punjab, Sir John Lawrence, who considered it premature, rejected this proposal. In these circumstances the board selected Dr. G.W. Leitner, as the very first Principal of Government College, Lahore.
You might be wondering as to just what happened to the Central College, Lahore, proposal. That also saw the light of day, only it was called the Central Training College, Lahore, built just opposite the Government College, Lahore, and next to the Central Model School, Lahore, which was built in 1883. This set of school and teacher training college also proved to be a 'centre of excellence', much that they are ignored today.
The original Government College, Lahore, opened in the spacious 'haveli' of Dhian Singh inside Taxali Gate on the First of January, 1864. The present building, a Gothic masterpiece of W. Purdon, the Superintending Engineer of Lahore, was started in 1870. It took five years to complete costing Rs. 320,537/-.
The construction was undertaken by Rai Bahadar Kanhaiya Lal, a genius and dedicated builder who has written a marvelous book on Lahore, not to speak of building almost all the well-known building of that era. Over the years various blocks have been added to this college. It has a huge Botanical Garden next to the Lawrence Gardens (now called Jinnah Gardens), it has an Atomic Physics Laboratory opposite the Civil Secretariat, next to which it has its own cricket ground.
An important portion of the college is its hostels, of which it has two. One is the Quadrangle (now called the Iqbal Hostel), which is inside the college premises and is meant for Intermediate students. The other is the original Government College Boarding House, which was later named the New Hostel. In one description of this hostel, a Punjabi Gazetteer places its location as being "next to the house of Mr. H. Brandon, Pleader, and the Punjab Association Club".
No trace of the 'pleader' remains, though in our school days I do remember my late father mentioning "Khoona pleader", an Anglo-Indian lawyer who lived next to the hostel. For that matter to the north of Government College was the DAV School, which is today called the Government Muslim Model High School.
But then Lahore is not all about building and history. Its people have always been more important than the institutions that it has. The Principals of Government College, Lahore, have all been 'great' men so to say. Starting from Leitner, the great names just do not cease. There was Garrett, Dunnicliff, Sondhi, Bokhari, Nazir, Rashid and now Dr. Khalid Aftab, just to name a few.
Each educationalist was outstanding in his own right. In the post-Independence era Patras Bokhari definitely stands out, as does the great Dr. Nazir, Prof Rashid, Dr Ajmal and Dr. Khalid Aftab. Their mark on the finest educational institution of Pakistan definitely remains. As a student I remember Dr Ajmal immensely. I once asked him why he wrote only 'Muhammad Ajmal' on his board and not Dr. Ajmal. He smiled, rolled his cigarette and in a shy dragging style said: "Otherwise people start showing me their pulse".
But then so have been the students. Name any discipline and the list of names of its illustrious students is mind-boggling. The poets Iqbal and Faiz stand out. Among scientists there is the Nobel laureate Dr Salam. In zoology there was the Nobel nominee Dr Ahsanul Islam whom my father always called "aandawala doctor" - the 'Egg Doctor'.
He determined the cell formation of embryos, a lead that was to take others to discover just how genes and DNA function. He was the man who unlocked "the secret of life". I knew him well and was very fond of him. Whenever I asked him about his life work, he would remark: "Allah ka kamal hai". Many feel that by coming back from Imperial College, England, he gave up his Nobel nomination. But his sick mother was more important to him.
Such have been the great teachers and students of Government College, Lahore. Today it has managed to achieve the status of a university.As it meanders its way to new heights, we return to the question of the museum in the making. One assumed some old Ravian would one day leave a fortune for this project. Maybe we forget what Bilal the Slave from the Holy Prophet (pbuh) learnt: "A drop of a scholar's ink is more sacred than a martyr's blood".