I AM very angry with myself — a luxury I can afford but at a cost. I know how efficient and honest are our governments, both provincial and federal. I know there is dirt and more dirt, filth and more filth, surrounding us. I am aware of the quality of air that I breathe in and out, and the polluted contents of whatever it is I eat and drink. I have the wherewithal to at least try to take precautions.

Yet, I allowed myself to be infected, bacterially, and was consequently hospitalised at the National Institute for Cardiovascular Diseases, a hospital which Professor Azhar Faruqui runs well with what little he is given by our government which presides over a booming economy about to take off into space.

Whilst there, I was able to ‘observe’ (as our press would have it). Sickness and misery abound. On my exercise outings within the hospital I used to frequently visit the emergency centre where there is inevitably a rush and where anyone stricken with a heart ailment will get immediate and expert attention at all times.

One day all was peaceful, calm. Why, I asked? Has the country’s health suddenly taken a turn for the better? No, I was told. Prime Minister Shaukat Aziz is in town on one of his frequent visits (totally unnecessary as any odd underling can do whatever it is he does here) which disrupt and disturb our lives. The roads are blocked, patients are stuck in traffic jams, cars and ambulances cannot get into the hospital. People die on their way — according to one report in our press, on a single visit earlier this year 20 people died for want of being able to reach medical help in time. The damage done is incalculable.

However, an answer to the problem has been found and a diversion opened up. A hundred yards of new road have been built at a cost of Rs.3 million. It was done in a hurry, it took all of 90 days — most necessary as the prime minister is liable to descend upon this city at any moment for an important and vital inauguration or tape cutting. It was built, as are built all our city roads, with no gutters, no drainage system, no cambers. The grand opening was performed on May 4 by the lord mayor, the young and hyper-active Mustafa Kamal, who side by side with the Karachi NAB chief (whose office sits next to the NICVD) performed the opening ceremony by unveiling a plaque. As long as it serves the purpose and saves lives, so be it.

We have to put up with a lot of nonsense to which there seems to be no end. Our city Lady Mayor, Nasreen Jalil, last week came up with a spiffing idea. She has had talks with some Korean ‘experts’ and has suggested to them that Pakistan export its stray dogs to Korea, presumably for culinary purposes. We also read how a parliamentary secretary, some individual by the name of Khwaja Sheraz Mahmood, himself physically beat up a joint secretary of his ministry, the finance ministry presided over by the prime minister. We have not read as to what action has been taken against him.

The cheering news, and really good news, is the landmark order issued by Chief Justice of Pakistan Iftikhar Mohammad Chaudhry on May 5, who yet again has come to the rescue of the people with another suo motu action. This time, it was prompted by a column by Ayaz Amir published in this newspaper. The chief minister of the Punjab, one of the Chaudhrys of Gujrat, said by his admirers to be most enthusiastic about educating the people of his province, had directed that 180 shops be built on the premises of the Government Postgraduate College at Chakwal. In his order, the chief justice has set aside this directive, laid down the law and established that educational institutions will not be used for commercial purposes.

And we must celebrate a life well-lived, to the hilt. On April 29, at Cambridge, Massachusetts, John Kenneth Galbraith died at the age of 97. A giant of a man, both physically, standing at six foot eight inches (in his old age there was merely a hint of a stoop), and intellectually, he lived a full and rewarding life, spending over seven decades on the stage of American public life. He was a bureaucrat, an ambassador, an adviser and confidante of presidents and politicians, and a Harvard professor. He is credited with having written those famous lines in John Kennedy’s inaugural speech : ‘Let us never negotiate out of fear. But let us never fear to negotiate.’ And as Kennedy’s ambassador to India, he once famously expressed his admiration for the British Raj as it had run the Empire ‘with fewer people than Harvard employs in its dining halls.’ The Indians did not forget him and in 2001 he received the country’s second highest civilian award.

To end with a quote, the last paragraph of his obituary published in The Economist of May 4:

“A decade ago, Mr Galbraith lamented that old age brought an annoying affliction he called the ‘Still Syndrome.’ People would constantly note that he was ‘still’ doing things: still ‘interested in politics’ when he showed up at a meeting, ‘still imbibing’ when he had a drink and ‘still that way’ when his eyes lit up on seeing a beautiful woman. The Still Syndrome lasted an immodestly long time. Its passing has left America poorer.”