Meeting with Lal Khan at Javaid Jan's

AFTER THIRTY THREE YEARS

I met with Yasrib Tanveer Gondal after 33 years in Jan Sahib's house this June.

Khalid Javaid Jan is much less known in USA than he should be. He is an RMC graduate and was a student leader of Eagles. He suffered a lot during student life as he dared to stand up in a totally dictator friendly institution.

He is a fine soft gentleman at heart, a poet and a thinker. His most famous poem Haan Main Baaghi Hoon was owned and read by Benazir Bhutto on her historic coming back for the first time. The title of his poem was used by Javed Hashmi as a title of his autobiography.

For those who want to have a frank dialogue with the maker, his latest poem Teji Gul. speaks of itself.https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?v=572191349480058.  His ideas and their expression are fearless, which is increasingly rare in our complacent society of Pakistani intelligentsia. More of him later, circumstances permitting.

He and his gracious wife were kind enough to host a sumptuous dinner in their house where Zia Ghani and I met will them and Yasrib Tanveer Gondal

When I went to Hasanabdal at the age of twelve in 1973, I have never met anyone with the name Gondal outside of our family. Even in our family it was not customary to use this as the part of the official name. Yes it was my 'quom" as mentioned in the land papers. (There is always a column of qoum in the rural real-estate papers, when mentioning the name of the owner and the tiller of agricultural lands). Our ancestors had moved from the Gondal heartland five generations back across the river into Jhelum District and our village had only our family of Gondals, rest were Gujjars and Kashmiris of various sorts.

Mentioning tribal affiliation was perhaps considered somewhat improper for the newly educated colonial-time raised generation. Many of the politicians have started to use family names in the post Bhutto back-to-tribalism non-party era.

Back to 1973. Twelve years old are quite impressionable and look up to their seniors, who are not that old themselves seventeen years old Second Years. YTG was in my house (Jinnah Wing) and was in second year. The name Gondal was an immediate conversation starter. His family was also not from the heartland, having moved to Chakwal area ( at that time still in District Jhelum). The association was strengthening . He told me many stories of varying levels of authenticity about us Gondals, .

After one year he was gone and as seniors go out of that gate onto the GT road to the invisible world of various professional colleges and military academies, I lost touch with him.

Fast forward to 1979. I got accepted to Nishtar Medical College and traveled there from Nowshera where my family lived. My father was in Military Accounts and we have lived all our lives in various military cantonments or Air Force camps. I had never lived in Punjab except for five years in Cadet College Hasanabdal, which is not really Punjab. It is a world of its own, a walled off island; except some official and non official trips to the valley in the back and to the Bus Adda. Now I was going to Multan, to Punjab for the first time to live where most of the people around me would be speaking in Punjabi in various dialects.

The first day of college was a really eye opener. Although I had received many letters from various student political parties in Nishtar welcoming me to college, I did not realize the cutthroat competition amongst them to woo over the new students. As soon as our Tanga entered the Nishtar Gate, a thin young man jumped into the back seat where I was sitting. My Uncle was in the front seat with the kochowan. This young man, Liaquat M. a famous Jamait worker had beaten the Liberal's Malik into getting 'hold' of me. Sportsmanship still worked those days: the Liberals did not pursue me further and let me go with them. Malik Sahib did introduce himself to me later and when found out that I was an Abdalian, (he was too) he told me YTG was there and how to meet with him at the end of the day. 

As our class was the seventh class there was no room and accommodation for us. There were two final years and two first years. The old final year was taking its final professional, and the old first year had not cleared its First Year exam. Hostel rooms were already allotted. We had to find our own place to live. That's were the student politics played its role. Jamiat would provide housing and will expect for allegiance in return. Liberals would do the same. Many seniors made room for a third or a second person in their room temporarily. Yasrab Tanvir offered his room to me. It was Room 220 in Razi Hall. I stayed there for more than a month till we got into the Union Office. (Liberals were in power in the Student Union and Yasrib Tanveer was the General Secretary).

Nishtar was as tribal as it is today. Most of the students were from out of town and were 'hostelites'. People were known either by their geographic and ethnic identities. Sargodhians, Digerians (of DG Khan) Kashmiris and/or by their subcastes, ie Bajwas (mostly Jamatias, BTW), Randhawas, Waraichs, Shirkarinis, Sahibzadas, Arains and of course Gondals. It immediately became a part of my identity and my defacto name. It earned me higher visibility and automatic recognition.

After our admissions, the classes were suspended, as the Chehlum of ZA Bhutto was around the corner. The classes would start after a month. Nowhsera was too far and I decided to stay in Nishtar. Next day I hear that Yasrab Tanvir is planning to go the Chelum with a few fellow Liberals. Excited, I agreed to join them. 

Thanks to YTG, I entered Ghari Khuda Bux Bhutto before I entered the classroom in Nishtar. It was an amazing journey. We went to Sukkher where the family of exiting Liberals Party Chief  Wadda Paa Ijaz Bashir Naaro lived. His mother was an active PPP member and father was a famous doctor. (Some times later, he along with his mother and a brother tragically died in a car accident). From Sukkher.we took the train, Mohenjedaro Express (I am blocking on the name),

There was a fear that the army may not let the train stop at Naodero Station (aka Sir Shahnawaz Bhutto Station). We were to pull the alarm bell and run off the train if that happened. Full of excitement, and fear that police may prevent us forcibly to reach the village. Fortunately the train stopped. The five mile or so walk to Ghari KB Bhutto was very emotional. People from everywhere flocked. mostly chanting slogans in Sindhi with all the flowery epitaphs for the Military Dictator.  It was like an emotionally charged procession of Aashura, people beating their chests and with loud lamenting.

I have since visited Bhutto's grave more than once but that first time, when the grave was still all mud and fresh, will live with me.

Back to Nishtar, I became one of the lead persons in the first year for Liberals. My 'credentials' were quite impressive. That is besides the point that I had really not formed any clear ideology by that time, my liberal lifestyle notwithstanding. 

YTG was very charismatic person. Everybody knew him and wanted to be close to him. He had connections with all the Left of the city. We used to go to the University events in support of NSF. We used to go to factories in support of workers union. I remember once going to the famous khaad Fertilizer Factory.He was our leader and we were his lieutenants. 

He was a fiery speaker, Two of his famous quotes in his speeches I do remember. One was the verses of Munir Niazi. kuch onj wi ra'waan aukhiaan sun ---------- and the second was . "Nishtar, which used to be the garh of Jamiat, we have made it the Qabaristan of Jamiat". Many would doubt the veracity of that, however.

Soon Oct 16 1979 arrived. That night General Zia announced to once again to postpone the elections and put a freeze on political activities. That night, there was a fight between Liberals and Jamiat. Much bloodshed although no one lost his life. Principal, the late Hayat Zafar, in consultation with SMLA Multan or under their advice, decided to forcibly migrate the leaders of both parties to various other medical colleges. YTG was migrated to RMC.

Rawalpindi Medical College was on a different political planet than where Nishtar existed. Here Jamiat was in full control, the Eagles were a peace loving marginalized minority. General Zia's two children  were students and some members of  Jamiat were considered very close to the Army House. YTG was the wrong person to enter into this tranquility. He shook up the status quo and soon Eagles, including the ever mellow Javaid Jan Sahib, were all energized to challenge Jamiat in their home turf.

There was another fight. It was May the 10th, 1980. The People have different versions of what happened, but at the end of the day, YTG was rumored to be targeted and he escaped.

The version known to me was as follows: a few weeks back their was a big Barsi for Z A Bhutto basically organized by YTG. It was in the medical college and had roughed some feathers. Powers to be were not happy with that. Many jiala students from outside the town and province had come to attend that. The score had to be settled sooner or later. A few weeks later some of the jialas took out the Inaugural stone which had the name of  General Zia. That let to a series of skirmishes and fights. Many Eagle students were injured and were taken to area hospitals. Khalid Javaid Jan had more than one fractures.

It is believed that the 'orders' were issued to eliminate YTG. He escaped in a runaway car at the back of Holy Family Hospital. He eventually left RMC and Pakistan for Europe. Eagles in RMC ware bruised beyond repair and the ground was re-acclaimed by Jamiat for years to come.

In Europe he stayed mostly in Holland. He became involved in the international left movements.He was a Trotskyite and became involved in Fourth International. The word struggle was always liked by him. His student days journal was also called The Struggle. It still does.

A couple of years later, I found myself in somewhat similar situation, ie leaving Nishtar due to politically instigated fights and eventually landed in Rawalpindi Medical College. YTG was gone but his notoriety haunted the place. Every body knew about him and many derived 'logical' conclusions. Another Gondal, from Liberals in Nishtar lands in RMC. That may have made some people cautious.

But as there were some similarities, there were many differences. I was a different person with a different background. He was a passionate revolutionary, (many doubted the depth of his conviction at that time) while I was still finding my way. He could go to all lengths, whereas I had my limitations. Not to take away any thing from him, he did have the backing of a strong family with power and friends in high places. Colonel Sahib, his late father, had a large house on the Sixth Road in Satellite Town and large land ownership in Chakwal. I was the son of a retired Military Accounts official. He could go on and keep conquering the world; I knew I had my last chance. I should not try to fly any more.  If I take one more misstep, I am done. They could stick a fork in me. There was not much politics left in RMC after May the 10th anyway. I kept my feet on the ground and my eyes on my feet.

After a long self exile, during Benazir's Prime Minister-ship he came back. By that time I had already graduated form RMC and left for USA. YTG has remained mostly outside of the PPP power struggle and has over a period of time developed his own place as an ideolouge and a thinker.

It was a pleasure meeting with him after a long time. I had been hearing about him from mutual friends although had not followed him on TV and on his articles.

During student life, many would think of him as a shallow politician, an instigator of conflict and not a person with deep political convictions. With time he has proven all his critics wrong. Many who would have written him off as an interloper have gone on to become a part of the same establishment they claimed to abhor. On the contrary, he is still fused with his student age enthusiasm and revolutionary romanticism.

His Abdalian friends would joke that he would not be able to finish a book with some mindful reading, and here he has authored more than a dozen of books and booklets. He is well read, is a prolific writer, a columnist and still a community organizer.

After the initial catching up for the lost years, the discussion at the dinner may have not been much different than what happens in these meeting. What was different was that while the material world has been increasingly kind to Jan Sahib, and Yasrab Tanveer was always endowed, both of these student leaders of the Left are still much the same as they were thirty years back. Both are op-ed columnist and writers, (Jan Sahib is a great poet), have left the field of medicine way behind in the rear view mirror,  and are still working to make this world a better world.

Yasrab Tanveer has left his original name behind and is not interested in his old name and details of his past. He has longed moved away from tribalism to idealism. The one who influenced me to know more who I was has decided to forget who he was and got wedded to his passion. He is now totally Red. He is now, only and only, the Lal Khan.