PHOTOGRAPHIC coverage of some meetings and seminars in Lahore appearing in the Press have reminded me of a movie of Marx Brothers in which the trio was stranded on a forsaken island.
Details escape memory for it is decades since I watched the movie. In any case, how they reached the island is not relevant. As they wonder about what to do next, one of them resolves the problem, declaring that he would be king.
One brother wishes to know what he would be and the king to be promises prime-minister ship. The third brother eagerly asks about his future. He is told “You would be the people.” Such a reply is to be ruled out in some areas of life in today’s Lahore. Not many people appear willing to be cast as people
Dawn readers may not be very familiar with the pictures I have in mind because the newspaper’s circulation policy does not seem to be tied to printing photographs of readers, some of them no doubt important in their own right. However, a number of publications apparently think that they cannot ignore any of the local VIPs, be they genuine or pretenders, and must project them in accordance with the opinion they have of themselves.
The VIPs are seated in a row of chairs in these meetings and seminars. There are occasions when one row is not sufficient to accommodate all the contenders for a place on the stage and chairs are placed in a second row. The crowd on the stage can be bigger in size than the audience in some such cases.
One doubts if the people placed in the back row would be pleased with the arrangement but it is certainly better than sitting across the stage among ordinary citizens, those assigned the role of people under the event management’s dispensation.
However, as a result of increasing preoccupation of many people about their position in the seating arrangement on the stage, the size of audiences has been shrinking. The VIP attitude is taking its toll. The VIPs’ tribe has so far not expanded to the extent that those occupying the stage have to sit across vacant halls and address non- existent audiences but such a possibility is not to be ruled out if present trends persist.
Many attempts have been made to eliminate the VIP culture but the syndrome is strongly entrenched; every bid to dislodge it has consequently failed. Personalities who campaign against VIPs fall a victim to it in the long run. This is the system and there is no escape for even committed crusaders against this culture.
Take the case of Malik Mairaj Khalid, a politician who has been in top provincial and national slots. He has consistently behaved as an ordinary citizen of Pakistan although anyone who has been Chief Minister, a Federal Minister, Speaker of National Assembly and interim Prime Minister can be anything but a commoner. Despite that, people insist on treating him as VIP.
People may have accorded him extra reverence because he was interim PM, an appointment that is more important than obtaining the job through elections: an interim PM represents anointed credentials and that apparently is the reason why, despite a track record of opposition to VIP culture, he is constantly entrapped by it. Malik sahib is in fact the most sought after private sector VIP of Lahore.
A distinction between public and private sector VIPs needs must be made. The life of the former is restricted to the period of his/her stay in the office while the later survives after the flesh of official status is interred with bones.
To clarify, it is not too far back in time when (Retd) General Safdar was the chief guest every morning, midday and afternoon, not only in Lahore but all over Punjab; he is a forgotten name today and his status as VIP has been transferred to his successor as governor. This misfortune has not befallen Malik Mairaj Khalid.
This underlines the fact that a commoner can last a longer distance than a Suraj Bansi tribesman. If the commoner has class for winning anointment, the combination can be of a devastating VIP hue. It does not matter if the individual bestowed with the twin talent is a reluctant player. People know a VIP when they see one, regardless of the person’s protestations.
But one can also be caught by the VIP web unintentionally, fall in the pit unknowingly. This happened to a journalist from Peshawar when he was a member of the late Mr Bhutto’s entourage on a trip to North Korea in 1976.
A meeting was scheduled between Mr Bhutto and the late North Korean leader, Kim Il Sung; they were to be assisted by cabinet members. Media men accompanying Mr Bhutto reached the venue early and were ushered in by local officials. Journalists with experience of such events knew where the line was to be drawn and although the hosts kept on guiding them to move forward, they stopped at the right point.
The gentleman journalist, owner editor of a Peshawar based weekly was on his first such outing. An imposing bearded figure dressed in white shalwar and sherwani with a kulah to boot, he looked a VIP every inch of his frame. I think the hosts took him for a minister and led him right to the table meant for the two leaders and their aides.
Soon after the leaders arrived with ministers in tow. As he took his chair, ZAB looked around and his eyes settled on the owner-editor from Peshawar. What happened after that was not reported by anyone present in the meeting but we saw the gentleman journalist emerging from the conference room in a pale, petrified and profusely perspiring state. He did not look at any member of the media waiting for the meeting to conclude but headed straight for the place where he had been lodged by the North Korean government.
He was caught unaware. I doubt if he ever willingly accepted treatment as VIP after that incident; the very idea must have sent shivers down his spine for years. One can only sympathize with him because he hadn’t played at self-importance. Those who do are familiar with rules of the game and know how to conduct themselves, even if they are seated in the back row. They wait for their turn and I have seen more than one person earning a promotion to the first row of chairs.
Reference to North Korea suggests another comparison. Meetings addressed by heads of the two states had a number of important officials seated on the stage. Both sides were extensively represented. The stage indeed looked crowded but it was always an orderly, well arranged and disciplined gathering. And there never was a dearth of audience. Those designated as people were always in full strength; every seat in the hall was always occupied.
Local meetings haven’t suffered from a scarcity of audience but the rate at which occupancy of the stage is growing suggests that we would soon be left with more VIPs than commoners, at least the kind who would voluntarily accept the role of people and audience. They may soon become an endangered species.
That would create some sort of a problem for the Marx Brothers of our society.
PHOTOGRAPHIC coverage of some meetings and seminars in Lahore appearing in the Press have reminded me of a movie of Marx Brothers in which the trio was stranded on a forsaken island.
