Touring Multan, with Shakir Hussian Shakir

Revisiting the Past

In a City of Living Dead

گدا و گورستان

https://www.flickr.com/photos/nasirgondal/16232140776/sizes/c/in/photostream/
During the recent trip to Multan for APPNA Winter Meeting, I took a city tour arranged for APPNA members and their families. I have lived in Multan during my first years of medical school at age 18-20. It is a city with lot of influence on me. 

And for the last several years, almost for two decades, for various reasons, whenever I visit Pakistan I go to Multan. I spend a day or two visiting my class mate Shakeel Ahmed of Biochemistry in Nishtar. We remisnice on our old days, usually have a sitting with old comrade Salamatullah, now retired from Forensic Deptt.  Zafri Shah, from Khanewal is always gracious, visits Multan and then usually accompanies me to a trip further south to Bahawalpur and Yazman. 

So I go to Multan every year, but hardly visit the city. Just spend time with friends and move on. I never feel myself as Multani, but do feel a certain sense of allegiance. Taking the trip as a tourist with a guide is always interesting and now I had an opportunity to visit the streets of the past, so I jumped on the tour bus.

APPNA Winter Meeting was arranged by Haroon Durrani, whose family is a centuries old resident of Multan. His father in law, Late Umer Kamal Khan, has written a book on Multan's history and has been pivotal in restoring the Library of Multan. 

The local host committe headed by Ijaz Masood and team had arranged a great program, which was toned down due to the Peshawar massacre.

For the tour they chose well the guide. Shakir Hussain a lifetime Multan resident, a literary person with a deep sense of Multani Pride. His guidance made it all worthwhile.

https://www.flickr.com/photos/nasirgondal/16071916029/sizes/z/in/photostream/

Almost all of what I write here is what I learnt from him. 

We started off from the Hotel, which is on Abdali Road. It is called Abdali Road as it is believed that Ahmad Shah Abdali was born in Multan. He was soon returned to Afghanistan and never lived here as an adult. There is a monument to commemorate that.
https://www.flickr.com/photos/nasirgondal/16070684790/sizes/c/in/photostream/





Multan, Shakir said, is continuously inhabited for 3000 years by now, making it one of the oldest cities.

The road took us straight to Bohar Gate. The old city of Multan has six gates, Bohar, Pak, Haram, Dehli, Daulat and Lahori Gates. 

I remember Bohar Gate well. During my time as a student, somehow I got fascinated by the Beeri smoking and switched from Gold Leaf to Beeri Smoking. It is tobacco wrapped in the Beeri leaf, which is dried kachnar perhaps. The place to go for beeri was Bohar Gate.

Multan is a city of saints, The oldest saint in Multan was Moj Darya. I always thought that a place called Pul Moj Darya was perhaps a bridge on a vigorous river, since dried. I did not know that it was the name of a saint.

The second saint to come to Multan was Shah Gardez, from Gerdez of Afghanistan. His tomb is inside the Bohar Gate. It is believed that in those days, the wall of the city was flanked by River (perhaps Chenab) and every year it used to cause havoc to the city during flood season. The first miracle of Shah Gardez was to put his shoes in the rive and order it should never flood again. And so did happen.

We toured the city along the wall, on the outside. Next came Pak Gate. Here is the tomb of Musa Pak, a descendant of Abdul Qadir Gilani and forefather of the ex Prime Minister Yousuf Raza Gilani.  Then came Haram Gate. We always thought it is called Haram Gate as it is the red light area and many of my college friends entered manhood through these gates. Shakir Hussain told us that it is called Haram Gate as it was the exclusive entrance for the aristocratic ladies of the times. 

Similarly Daoulat Gate is called so for the reason of having the tomb of a saint Daulat Shah. 

My first encounter with Multan was at Daulat Gate. My uncle, Taya Afzal, used to live there. He was a professor of Physics in Emerson College. As a kid I was there when another uncle of mine, Mammo Munawar, got married in Fort Colony Multan, we had gathered at Taya Afzal's house to prepare for the Baraat Procession. And when I went to Nisthar, he was still there, although retired for a long time. I spend my first few days in his house before shifting to the campus.

Back to the tour. We had the traditional breakfast of the city, Aalo Bhi Chole Pura,  a mixture of Potatoes and a vegetable called Bhi with chick peas and a hard purra. Made at night by women at homes and then brought to the streets by men and sold hot or cold. 

Part of the old wall is being rebuild from a grant by an Italian organization. It will restore the old look to the part of the walled city. Next we saw the Khooni Burj, the  Bloody Bastion between Dehli Gate and Pak Gate http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bloody_Bastion#mediaviewer/File:Khooni_Burj_or_Bloody_Bastion_Multan.jpg

Thought of as the place where Alexander was defeated and the Tower was all bloodied by the defending warriors. But perhaps the name is due to the war between Sikhs and British.

http://multan.uniconconsulting.com/monument/index/KHUNI_BURJ.html

Right on top of the Tower is the Students Tazia, Shagird ka Tazia. 

https://www.flickr.com/photos/nasirgondal/16258049065/sizes/z/in/photostream/

Multan, famous for its Muharram Shia processions, has two famous tazias Ustad and  Shagird, i.e. Teacher and the Student. Perhaps at some time the Student thought that he can make a better Tazia than his Teacher he made one and now this is the place from where its procession starts.  Interestingly, Shakir told us, that most of the licences to hold Tazia ( which total more than 100) are held by Sunnis and not by Shias. Shagird's Tazia is similarly owned by a Sunni. That is a unique example of Shia Sunni understanding in Multan. Skeptics say it is the way the sunnis exploit the situation financially by subletting the licenses to Shias. 

The Tazia of Shah Gardez, where I had attended some shia majalisis as a student, is not taken out and is buried at the end of the month. Perhaps there was a time of prosecution and it was observed in secret. Now the tradition continues. 

Shams Sabswari, sometimes wrongly assumed to be Shams Tabriz is another well known saint of Multan. Now there is a big park around the tomb. In our college days, there was a big mela on the urs of Shah Shams. That was the first time I had seen a live performance of dance girls. Still remember the famous song Mathe pay sonay ki bindya lagaai  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pHzBCqA5H8s

Then the trip to the fort. It is in the center of the walled city and hosts the two main monuments Bahudding Zakaria and Shah Rukn Alam. There was a third building, that of the Hindu Temple Prahladpur. It is here that the Hindu custom of Holi, started here http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Prahladpuri_Temple,_Multan

In the aftermath of the destruction of Babri Masjid in 1992, almost all of the Hindu places of worship were destroyed, including this iconic temple

Said to hear that although there is Hindu and Sikh population in Multan, they do not have a shamshan ghaat to cremate their dead. Now they bury their dead, the same way as Muslims. The intolerance has gone up with time.

Now they have built a Damdama view point at the Qila, and one can get a great view of the city. It was quite foggy on the day, we were there and could not see much, except the birds and the misty sky.

https://www.flickr.com/photos/nasirgondal/16070521818/sizes/m/in/photostream/

The old shop Nigar Khana is still there and you can get the cheapest deals of artifacts there. Sajid and Rubina bought almost all of what was left by others, for their new house in Orlando.

The Tomb of Shah Rukn e Alam, is the top most location in Multan and every visitor goes there. I had the question of the six pointed stars in the inner wooden door which I noticed the first time I visited the Mazaar after being aware of David's star, and asked the question to Shakir Hussian. He thought the resemblance is coincidental and must have been the innovation of the artisans without knowing the Jewish connection.

https://www.flickr.com/photos/nasirgondal/16257223162/sizes/n/in/photostream/

In this city of saints, the more recent entry is of Molana Hamid Ali Khan, the religious leaders of Rohtak Hasar migrants to Multan.  

In the end, on the way to the renovated Library, which Umer Kamal Khan help renovate, but did not live to see it inaugurated, we did go past the Graveyard where Attaullah Shah Bukhari, the famous orator and Deobandi leader is buried, perhaps in an unmarked grave.

https://www.flickr.com/photos/nasirgondal/sets/72157649848175670

Murshad Arshad Warraich

Murshad Arshad Warraich

One day, January 30th to be precise, I got a rather terse email from Shakeel, "Gondal ,Murshad Dr Arshad has died yesterday in Jahanian. No child behind except widow. b/c of  excess intake of methylated sprit. Shakeel"

It left me stunned for a long while. I could not believe it, really did not want to believe it; but it was right there in front of my eyes. Shakeel is the anchorman of our class. He is the one who keeps tab on everybody. And I mean everybody. He knows about the ones no one else would know. It was the collective good luck of our class, N28 as we are called, that he is stationed at Nishtar. A few years back when it was time for our Silver Jubilee, he was instrumental in getting everybody on board. He fished out long lost class mates no matter what part of the world they had slowly drifted to. No, he could not be wrong, Murshid must be gone. And the story, sadly did not seem too far from what really may happen with him.

He may not have been spotted out by Guinness Books scouts, Murshad had broken the record for the longest tenure as a medical student. Enrolled with us in 1979, (actually the session started in Sept 78 but classes were postponed till ZA Bhutto was hanged) he finally graduated in 2007. I do not think that Mian Ahsan Bari or Mian Rashid( now a Principal of a government medical college) can beat that. Murshad took almost twenty nine years to finish medical school. 

And now he is not there any more. Too bad.

It was middle of the day and I was commuting form one place of work to another. My thoughts flew back to those sultry days of 1979 Multan summer when I first met him. He was a rather quite individual, easily recognized to be from a small agrarian town, intrigued by a big city but not intimidated by it. A zamindar Jat to the core, born in Gurjat and lived most of his life in Jahanian. We both found ourselves living in the Student Union office, thanks to the housing conditions in those days. The Liberals were in power in the Student Union and we were accommodated in its 'Union Office" situated right in the middle of the western wall of the Quadrangle, the educational block of the college. It was a prized location as it was directly opposite Rafida Hall, the girl's hostel. Arshad and I became acquainted quite early. He could easily make you feel relaxed and open up. Because of that, despite his quite demenear, he had a lot of friends. 

He was a very relaxed man. He would always make a light joke at the end of every conversation and no matter how serious would be the discussion at hand, he would make you laugh. Not very fond of the Madam Tahira Bukhari's Dissection Hall and the smoke drums of Baba Gulzar, we both used to hang out and experiment with nicotine et al during the time rest were honing their skills with scalpels and action potentials. With time his sufiana mystic attitude on life and detached way of living earned him the title of Murshad. His seniority as a chronic student augmented his image as such. 

Early on, he had befriended a class fellow from Jhang and they shared a separate room in next to the student union's office. Their friendship, grew with time and was the topic of discussion all the times among friends and foes. The guy form Jhang was an attractive zoftig fella, wide eyed, and had a melodious voice. I heard Rafi's song,, mujhe ishq hay tuijhi say meri jaane zindagani'  from him for the first time. Phiki pay gayi chun tarian di lo  was his another hit item. Many seniors used that as an excuse to come to Students' Union and request him to sing. At those times, it was a joy to watch Arshad enjoying the songs and the music. Full of nicotine and smoke to the deepest alveoli, he transcended easily to a different world. Their bond was strong and got stronger by the day.

I left Nishtar in the third year of the medical college. I kept on hearing about him and occasionally met him when I visited Multan. He had difficult time keeping up with his class he slowly lagged behind in studies. After his close friend migrated to Lahore, it was harder for him to continue. At least that was the conclusion of many. He had rough time with the people of authority and took a long scenic route to the finishing line. He ultimately graduated in 2007. On one of my trips to Pakistan in late 2007 I visited him with Shakeel in the old District Hospital Multan. He was doing his housejob. His ward registrar was fifteen years his junior. 

After finishing housejob, which he finished one way or the other, he moved back to his native Jahanian. He ultimately fond attraction in the softer gender, got married and worked in a Basic Health Unit. A few years back I heard that the class-fellow from Jhang, suddenly passed away after having a big meal at a wedding. Coronary event? Perhaps yes. I thought it must be devastating for Arshad. 

What do you do when someone you feel close to is gone and there is no family member of his who is close to you. In fact you do not know any of his family. You grieve with whom you have shared memories of the deceased. Later in the day I called Shakeel and we offered condolence to each other. I was planning to go to Pakistan later in the Spring and expressed the desire to go to his hometown. Years earlier Shakeel and I had visited another class mates grave, Masood Bajwa who took his life too early. Another deeply tragic story, for another day.

I asked Shakee. Will he find more about him and get some arrangements made ahead of time. He surely would do. He had gotten this information form a friend who had read the news in the paper. He would get the information about the family of Arshad and his exact date of death.

Three weeks later, I got a pleasant surprise in my mailbox. 'No date of death. Dr Arshad is alive. I talked to him today, Actually there was a quack in the area who died. His name was also Dr Arshad."  OOFF.  What a relief. I could not imagine the joke played on us.

Perhaps the nature of the news was such that many thought believable but not appropriate as a topic of discussion. Some may have talked it among themselves, but no body felt like being the first one to break the news to others. His brief period of assumed death was kept as a closely guarded open secret.

I got Murshad's number and talked to him. He was aware of the confusion. He told me in his murshidaana way that he did not like the way the life is after death and decided to come back. Main ho aaya aan. میں  ہو آیا آں  We decided to meet.

He was kind enough to come to Multan when I visited Pakistan. We spend a long evening together with Shakeel and Shikrani, who came from Ahmedpur Sharqia (East). Zafri Shah and Zia Ghani were there too. 

Mushad was as thin as ever, his body mass more bones than the muscles  Still he had his hairs all KalaKola'ed and looked as old as he looked thirty years back. He was in the beginning of a new relationship with a lady. He said with his signature smile that he was hopeful it will end in matrimony. 

I briefly mentioned the classmate form Jhang, and it seemed that he was not aware of what has happened. He thought he has recently spoken with him. I dared not continue that topic with him. What if he really does not know or was it my wrong impression. Either way I did not want to continue that thread with him lest that I would be the first person to mention that. 

We ate at the new Shangri-La as the old one is now history. And then he was chauffeured back to Jahanian by a baradri member who doubled as his driver. All this time, Murshad was in his signature calm and relaxed state of mind. Attitude towards life and the hereafter not much affected by the years of scholarship. Holding potent cigarettes between his fingers he could very well live for another lifetime, a day at a time. 

Some love affairs never end.