The protection of national heritage is not a worthwhile administrative activity for the government
IN our mystic quest, let us discuss heritage, an easily understood expression, from an absolutely different perspective. It opens new vistas in grasping its intrinsic meaning. Heritage, otherwise, is a common word that is frequently used in our every-day life. In its ordinary sense, the word heritage denotes movable and immovable property that we inherit from our immediate parents or from our forefathers. It establishes our birthright over property. In its broader sense, a country’s heritage includes monuments, archaeological discoveries, palaces, forts, buildings of historical and cultural importance, objects of artistic value, and so on. Manuscripts, archives and rare books also fall within the fold of heritage. In collective terminology, we call it national heritage. It is looked after and managed by the government.
In our discourse, today, we will deviate from the common connotations of heritage. We will neither discuss personal heritage nor national heritage. We will take stock of private heritage, the heritage that we keep close to our hearts. It is lovingly nurtured till we breathe our last. However, for the sake of clarity, let us briefly touch upon the two commonly acknowledged existences of heritage — personal heritage (inheritance) and national heritage. Departed parents leave behind movable and immovable property such as houses, vehicles, lands, factories, business and bank balances that are inherited by legal heirs. Such property in isolated cases includes mansions along with objects of antiquity of national importance that are unfortunately squandered away between the heirs apparent in lawsuits. A government that values national heritage steps in to restrain the legal heirs from subdivision and fragmentation of the property.
In the recent property dispute over Nawab Saddiq’s fabulous estate and assets in Bahawalpur, the government allowed auction of paintings, antiques, ornamented daggers and swords, furniture, rugs and rare cars among the heirs. After the passing away of the Nawab, the Government of Pakistan should have declared Nawab Saddiq’s famous palace along with its objects of antiquity as national heritage. It should have been declared a museum. But, the government failed in its duty. An object of national heritage was officially subdivided and fragmented, and auctioned in April 2004. Who knows when the items of antiquity would fall in the hands of the dealers of valuable antiques and art objects in Europe.
Beginning from 1947 each government that came into power in Pakistan had its own priorities. Top priority subjects such as education, health and rural development found no favour with the rulers. The protection of national heritage is not a worthwhile administrative activity for the government. A casual look at our museums and archaeological sites would tell remorseful tales of gross negligence. Let us not enter the avenues beyond the scope of our discourse, today. To say the least, the entire scenario is lamentable.
It is commonly believed that heritage is associated with the rich and wealthy. An ordinary Pakistani inherits hunger, disease and ignorance from his parents. He inherits pain and suffering. At least I do not have the courage to refute the common belief among underprivileged Pakistanis. My humble submission is: rich or poor, each one of us holds a private heritage close to his heart. It retains his memories and unforgettable moments he spent in its proximity. It is so dear to him that any damage to his private heritage damages him. That is the core of our discourse today. We cannot establish a legal claim over the heritage that nurtures the chronicle of our days, weeks, months, years and the decades gone by.
Knowing that Frere Hall is an integral asset of national heritage, in your heart of hearts you feel it belongs to you. It is your private heritage because as a toddler you were regularly brought to Frere Hall when an imposing marble statue of a woman sat on a platform with an evenly-balanced pair of scales suspended from her hand. You toddled on the lush green lawns and at times tumbled. You watched pigeons flutter round you. That was more than half-a-century ago. You have grown old, but the toddler within you hasn’t. You bleed when you look at the miserable condition of Frere Hall today. The woman with the pair of scales denoting justice is gone as the image offended the faithful.
On weekends, my parents took me along to Takri, a hillock. Karachi did not extend beyond Takri. On northern and southern sides of Takri were posh localities of wealthy Parsis and Hindus. Both the communities are almost nonexistent today. At the place where ornamented elegant bungalows of Hindus and Parsis testified their artistic taste for architecture now stand ugly high-rise buildings. At a distance of three miles from Takri was located Karachi Central Jail. Beyond Takri, and across Jamshed Road and Jail Road sprawled no man’s deserted land that extended up to the rainwater and sewage drain that emanated from Malir. On the other side of the sewage drain were scattered villages of the local people. Two dilapidated bridges, Teen Hatti Bridge and Lasbela Bridge, connected the deserted land with the villages across the drain.
Do you know where is Takri today, the famous pre-partition picnic spot of Karachi? Everyone throughout the country should know. On Takri stands the imposing mausoleum of Quaid-i-Azam Mohammed Ali Jinnah. It is my private heritage.
