A RECENT interaction with a group of journalists from Muzaffargarh had its revealing moments. The clarity of thought on and awareness of the issue were remarkable. The words were spoken with conviction and anyone who impeded free expression was given a rap on the knuckles — from newspaper owners intent upon using journalists as moneymaking machines to feudals clinging on to the old system.

There were other, less startling, aspects to the meeting which confirmed that our colleagues deep in the district were not only keeping the tradition alive, they were abreast of all the latest trends that make journalists what they are today in Pakistan.

For instance, more than one member from among the 20-odd group talked about how Muzaffargarh had an abundance of press clubs: it has two if not three of these ‘social’ facilities. Not just that, it has related features like two factions of journalists wanting to use a government grant to forward their respective designs regarding the welfare of journalists.

In a sense the big cities have fallen victim to the same rustlers’ syndrome they suspected the district correspondent once suffered from.

And of course there were the usual rumours about the actual profession of the talkative senior gentleman who told us tales from the Zia period like previously the soldiers used to bring from the Burma front. All of which went a long way to prove that the profession was alive and awake to all kinds of possibilities that make it so exciting in this land.

The organisers who had invited the group over as a follow-up to a training programme were a little concerned at not being able to find a woman participant but it was heartening to know that Muzaffargarh does have women journalists — safely tucked behind the secure walls of the radio.

The more outspoken among these guests to Lahore desired a discussion that the limited time we had together did not quite permit. But the matters they were keen on discussing are not those that would be hidden from the eyes of big-city dwellers.

One point of debate related to the number of employers who actually paid — whatever little amount — to the journalists they had on their staff. Many of the participants in the conversation insisted that while Muzaffargarh city has more than 50 ‘active’ journalists, only in two instances do correspondents get monthly salaries. There was, however, a more generous version which put the number of salaried correspondents at three.

The emphasis, corroborated by these chastened, wizened men in starched shalwar kamiz, was, like always, on getting the business (adverts etc) preferably before they indulged in a bit of news hunting. To their credit, the unpaid, unrecognised and in many cases unsung lot does frequently find something to report. This was evident from the brief yet painful accounts of their troubles with the newsrooms in big cities.

There was some fresh information about these newsroom dictators sitting at the headquarters. But it only said they haven’t quite changed and must treat the minions in the countryside with as much indifference and abruptness as the authority at their command can allow them to. “They just print a story or reject it. We keep wondering what was good or bad about a news item that we filed and why was it printed or killed.”

That is a question tough to answer. It could best be avoided by invoking the old discretionary powers that the editors enjoy and must always put to good use each evening. Yet so far as the general complaints about the working of the journalists go they have come a significant distance from the era where they were obsessed with the footprints of rustlers and other petty thieves — which doesn’t mean that these were in any way small problems of town life.

It can be argued that, for any number of reasons, the smaller towns are more likely to throw up certain kind of stories, just as smaller towns are providing us a huge chunk of the pursers of old causes and pleasures. Maybe they have more time. Maybe the fault lines are more visible there in comparison to the large cities which are moving at a pace that doesn’t quite allow them the space and time to pause to reflect on a number of happenings around them.

Crime, politics, business … in a sense the big cities have fallen victim to the same rustlers’ syndrome they suspected the district correspondent once suffered from. The perception says everything that comes from the rural side is purer and cleaner and that is maybe also true for the news story that comes from the ‘interior’ to knock on the heavy gates installed at the entrance of the big cities.

A few of these pure stories had Muzaffargarh as their locale and the one that made a huge impact found a mention in conversations at the meeting. It was about a man named Jamshed Dasti who, with all his faults, briefly appeared to be providing an option to the people in a scene dominated by the moneyed and the landed gentry.

Men who took part in the conversation about Dasti included those who had at some point worked on a project with him. Perhaps they had thus all the more reason to be disappointed with the fast fade-out of the Dasti phenomenon which at least could act as an inspiration to dream about the freaks who intervene on people’s behalf once in a while.

That dream has to be kept alive, no matter how efficient a system is, and especially when the system is unable to deliver to the people their unusual rags-to-riches heroes. Everyone from the nosy country scribe to the internet explorers who discover the chaiwallah must try and ensure that we keep on getting our incredible stories at regular intervals. The argument about who exploits whom where and how can wait. Let’s first keep alive the reassuring dream that predicts sudden riches for all.

The writer is Dawn’s resident editor in Lahore.

Published in Dawn, November 4th, 2016