FEW countries in the world are as well-endowed with archaeological sites and relics as Pakistan; fewer still have neglected their heritage just as much. The apathy the state has reserved for our archaeological treasures over the years makes new if dubious history.

First there was one federal archaeology department; then under Gen Musharraf's devolution of power plan the provinces too were asked to set up their own archaeology departments with Islamabad planning to hand over the charge of historical monuments and museums to the respective provinces for their upkeep and maintenance.

The task has been carried forward to an extent, and now the provinces are the proud custodians of many national heritage sites. But this devolution has made little difference to the derelict state of many of the national monuments. They continue to cry out for more attention, better upkeep and conservation. Paucity of funds is often cited as the reason for the dismal state of affairs, but that's certainly not the only reason.

There exists a huge gap between the actual working of the custodian departments and what they are mandated to do. A lack of interest among officialdom and the public alike perhaps defines the situation. There is no national heritage policy, nor are the provinces interested in formulating such policies of their own, even though they may continue to say that they are immensely proud of their heritage. Facts on the ground reveal otherwise.

It is in the absence of any cohesive policy that the custodians — from low-ranking archaeology department officials to watchmen on duty — posted at each national monument feel free to set and enforce rules of their own making. Such rules very often can be bent, for a small price, if a visitor wishes to violate them.

Here's just one example there are dubious signboards posted at the Chowkandi and Bhambore remains near Karachi and at the Makli necropolis at Thatta that forbid one from taking photographs. Movie cameras are just as bad. But in the end it may all work out to the visitor's satisfaction if he is able to pay a paltry sum to a custodian. At archaeological sites in Taxila and at the secluded Buddhist remains of Takht-i-Bahi in Mardan district in Khyber Pathtunkhwa, the situation is worse one can actually walk away with a few pieces of history, and not of the fake variety, if enough interest is shown and the visitor agrees to pay a negotiable price.

Most of the country's archaeological sites are out in the open, exposed to the elements and spread over considerably large areas. Under these circumstances, it is hard to fathom why a camera taking their picture even with a flashgun would bring them additional harm. Hence the incredibility of the ban imposed on photography or amateur filming by a movie camera, which one is sure is unofficial despite the signboards. A ban on commercial filming without written permission is understandable.

Similar bans are also imposed in museums. While one can photograph, without a flashgun, artefacts on display at the Lahore, Peshawar and Taxila museums after paying a small fee at the ticket counter, those manning the National Museum in Karachi and others museums across Sindh only allow this if one knows an official, has a written request from an institution — or bribes those on duty.

These 'rules' are applied in a haphazard manner. Nobody really cares because national heritage is not high on the government's agenda. Many monuments that could contribute handsomely to pay for their own upkeep face criminal neglect. The 17-century Shahjehan Masjid at Thatta is an example that readily comes to mind. Its precious blue tiles and plaster are peeling off at several places. Why can't the relevant authorities impose a ticketed camera fee for tourists, as is the case for those visiting Delhi's Jama Masjid dating back to the same era, to generate funds for the proper upkeep of this jewel of a monument?

This dismal state of the mosque certainly leaves one wondering about the sorrier fate of monuments and archaeological sites across the country that are not associated with religion. One can make a whole study of the degrees of neglect with which we treat our national heritage.

So why this neglect? Look no further than the textbooks, the teaching at schools and colleges, and the brave new media for answers. While some private schools may arrange visits to historical sites, museums and monuments, those in the public sector have no such policy initiatives woven into the education system.

One may also ask why Jinnah's and Iqbal's mausoleums, as indeed some Sufi saints' shrines with designated urs date, are kept in a good state and the Shahjehan mosque and Moenjodaro are not. The answer lies in the projection which these historical personalities and their mausoleums get in the curriculum, on official occasions and designated days and in the media at large. This in turns helps keep the people's interest alive and the authorities alert to the state of specific monuments.

In view of the government's failure to generate domestic and international tourism, maybe it is time each listed national monument and archaeological site is assigned a designated day in the calendar which will ensure that it is in the spotlight at least for that one day every year. Awareness campaigns and seminars should also be arranged on such occasions.

These suggestions cannot be a substitute for taking serious steps to revive sustainable tourism, but until that happens such measures can help save some of our best-kept secrets from obliteration which otherwise may become their sorry fate.