The government’s cultural institution, Lok Virsa, was headed from its very start by Uxi Mufti. It was under his leadership that this institution came into existence. Now, after his retirement, Mufti has brought out a book called Kaghazi Ghaura (published by Al-Faisal Nashran, Lahore). It is an interesting tale of Mufti’s experiences with the bureaucracy of Pakistan.

Being an officer as well as the head of a government institution, Mufti himself formed part of this bureaucracy. But after retiring from his post he stood at a distance and chose to act as a critic of the bureaucracy’s method of working. As he himself had for long worked with the bureaucracy, having reconciled with its sinuous methods, he doesn’t think it fit to dismiss them outright. Instead, he eulogises them in superlatives, taking pains to assure the people in the bureaucracy that he has no axe to grind by writing a book about them. It is rather a tribute to the efficiency and greatness of the bureaucrats. “Pakistan,” he says, “is indebted to their understanding and insight for the establishment of an organised government.”

Mufti then starts telling us about their roguish methods in dealing with the cases put before them. He has a number of examples which seem to confirm his thesis. One such example is of Ghulam Ali. The ghazal singer had received an invitation from India but he could not go without a no-objection certificate (NOC) provided by the government. Mufti promised to help him get the certificate. He talked to the culture secretary who assured him that Ghulam Ali would get the NOC. Ghulam Ali certainly got the NOC but along with the following order: “The Government of Pakistan has no objection to Ghulam Ali’s proceeding to India on the condition that he does not sing there.” How ironic.

Mufti has also cited examples of some other departments, such as the National Film Development Corporation. It had come into existence for the promotion of the film industry. A lot of money was spent on this project and a number of seminars were held. A large number of film artists and filmmakers were invited to these. Though a number of well-paid posts were created, the whole project was doomed to failure. It lingered for a few years and then closed down.

As Mufti tells us, these cultural institutions were set up at the behest of Zulfikar Ali Bhutto who did not have time to see them established properly. As Gen Ziaul Haq came into power, these institutions got into trouble and were closed down one by one. Ziaul Haq, Mufti says, was allergic to culture.

Let us consider one more example cited by him. When Islamabad emerged as the capital of Pakistan, it was decided that trees would be planted along the roads and streets of the city. We have our own trees — neem, peepal, bergad, keekar — but the bureaucrats involved in the planning were not in favour of indigenous vegetation. It was decided that trees would be imported from Australia. For the sake of planting imported trees many local trees and bushes were cut down indiscriminately. But the trees imported from Australia brought with them germs which proved to be harmful to the birds of this land. The result was that they migrated from the area. Only the crows were able to reconcile with these germs and remained in the city. As for people living in this city, they too were adversely affected by these germs. Mufti says that “almost half of the people of Islamabad fell ill.”

More such examples of how our bureaucrats blindly imitate Western ways are cited in the book. They do not take local conditions into consideration or make adjustments in accordance with them.

Uxi Mufti is the son of Mumtaz Mufti and has inherited the old wisdom. One piece of advice he gives is to avoid discussing Islam and culture with a Pakistani. That will lead you nowhere, he says.