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.

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.

Dr Tariq Saeed of Mandi Bahuiddin

For Slide Show, click here:

Although my ancestors, five generations back where from places all over the current Mandi Bahauddin District, I had never been to Mandi. Marriages across the river ended way back and senior generation relatives who used to frequent the events of marriage and death passed on with time. I always wanted to be there but it never materialized. 

When Tariq Saeed, my classmate from Rawalpindi Medical College who is from Mandi asked me to visit him a few years back, I decided to take him on his offer. He is a cousin to my Abdalian entrymate Javed Iqbal (who earned the nickname of 'Mandi" early on in eighth grade when he surprised many of city dwellers in Hasanabdal in 1973 that Mandi is a sprawling metropolis in the heartland of Punjab). 

Somehow the plan did not coalesce until now. This May, 2013, I went to Mandi. It was worth the trip. Tariq used to tell me about his clinic and the medical center he had made and  how the rural medicine works. Tariq has always been of the religious bend and had a deep sense of community service; but what I saw was much more than I thought of.

Many of our friends and colleagues we know have started practice in their hometowns. Many have converted their old family houses which are now in the middle of the growing towns into a clinic or a medical center. Tariq has done the same. His family house which his father had built was supposedly outside the center of the town. By now it is in the middle of the town. He raised it to ground, build a four level hospital Shifa Clinic, and has brought in many specialists to the place. He has family quarters on the top floor. But this is not what makes him different. His contribution to the community esp in his ancestral village where he goes everyday, is what is unique to him.

With time, he had moved his family to Islamabad, for their education, so he lives in Mandi alone with his parents. His two daughters are medical students, both married to physicians, one a nephorologist in USA and the other an orthopedists about to start his own practice in Mandi, in Shifa Hospital. His son, not surprisingly, is taken out of school to finish Hifz Quran in two years. After that he will probably go back to the regular school system.

In summers, Tariq commutes weekly on Thursdays to Islamabad, spends the night there and comes back Friday night. That is his weekend off. That is how we decided to travel. He would be in Pindi area on Thursday and I will travel back with him on Friday after the prayers. 

Cell phone has made a big changes in our lives. Tariq has taken the advantage of using the instrument on his daily and weekly commutes to connect with the class mates and everybody else. He is the one in our class who knows most about every body. This is despite the fact that he has no presence on internet, Facebook included.  By US standards it is quite dangerous to call and drive, but he is quite at ease with it.

Travelling on GT road from Pindi to Lahore, one sees the Upper Jhelum Canal and the road along with it, next to Military College Sarai Alamgir. I have traveled on that road hundreds of times during my student years but never thought much about the canal. We make a right turn to head towards Mandi. The new road is now on the east side of the canal, the old one was on the west side. This is the same road where the abandoned car of outspoken journalist Saleem Shahzad was found and his dead body was found in the canal. One can see the effect of the road on the economy and the culture of the side of canal. 

Wider and better roads do bring in prosperity and mobility to the rural areas and that is why building betters roads have led to election victories most of the times. Close to Head Rasul Barrage, we make a turn and lead into Mandi.

The Shifa Clinic is quite impressive, with a ramp going all the way to the top floor. After a short rest, we headed to the dinner with my old Abdalian Classmate Dr Shahid Naseem. click here

http://mbdin.net/index.php/mandi-bahauddin/107-mandi-bahauddin-history

Mandi Bahauddin is one of the relatively new towns made out of an old village Chak 51. It has wide roads. It was laid by the British after the Rasul Headworks were laid, around 1920's.

The next day we headed towards his morning clinic. That is where the rubber meets the road. Tariq's family belongs to a village Gojra some twenty minutes south on the Gujrat Sargodha Road, colloquially also known as the Gondal Bar as mostly Gondals are from there. They come in all forms and varieties, sunnies, shias, Piplias, Muslim Leagueis, winners and losers in elections, it is all within the big baradari. 

Along the way is the newly minted Darbar of Maulana Jalaluddin of Bhikhi now appropriately known as Bhikhi Sharif. His son Hazrat Mazhar Qayyum Shah Mashhadi aka Hazrat Sani Sahib ( the second one) is quite active in politics. The late Maulana was optically challenged but one Ramzan he convinced the population to break their fast at ten in morning, as he had evidence of moon sighting the night before. 

What I saw in Gojra I would not have believed if someone else told me about it. The old family house is converted into an outpatient health facility. We reached there by 830 in the morning and there were at least two hundred patients waiting to be seen. All of them and more would be seen in the next four to six hours. They were separately lined up in men's and women's section. Patients in group of five or ten were seen at a time, either from the male side or the female side. They will be charged a token fee of Rupees 50, given some medications to take, and a pharmacy available for extra medications. This all goes non stop. Tariq does that on daily basis.  

What he earns out of it? A lot of goodwill, peace of mind and spiritual satisfaction. I cannot think of any way I can achieve that in my professional life and felt envious of that. It is not only me, but in my opinion none of the acclaimed specialist friends who have busy and stellar practices in the big cities can claim that kind of satisfaction; a son of soil who is also a healer within the community can do a lot good. God bless him for his work.

Half way into his hours, I left him and moved on. His brother in law and son in law gave me a lift on the ever bumpy road to the Motorway, ( the only link road to Motor way which is still very damaged, even when it was the home territory of Nazar Gondal). Next stop was Faisalabad where an old paternal cousin once removed lives. I had to have a chat with him about the old stories of the family before either of us get too old to talk about it.

Tariq Saeed is one of those thorough gentlemen who are always looking for an opportunity to be of help and comfort to you.He was a gracious host, as always and it was a trip worth it in more than one ways. 

Shahid Nasim Iqbal- Abdalian Entrymate

Meeting after 35 years.

Yes it is Shahid Nasim of Haider Wing.

click here

I met with him in Mandi Bahauddin on Friday May 31st, 2013 after almost thirty five years.

In the last five years or so, many of our age have reconnected to old class mates through internet and social media. Almost everybody I know has either an email group or FB page of their class fellows, of school mates, college mates and professional colleges. Still some manage to remain outside the reaches of these electronic catchers. Shahid Nasim is one of them who is blissfully spared of this media buzz.

It is strange that while everybody knew in the first few weeks of Hasanabdal that Javed Iqbal is from Mandi and that put Mandi Bahauddin on the map for the rest of us, nobody made the connection that his wing-mate Shahid Nasim is also from the same area. Perhaps Shahid was from the periphery of Mandi and not form the great metropolis Javed  led the others believe about his town.

I think Shahid Nasim was the most soft spoken kind gentleman we had in our entry. Tameer may be the close second. We in Jinnah Wing used to see him all the times heading to the masjid five times a day from the very beginning.He was tall and slender, a shy person  who had no particular interest in extra curricular activities except basketball and prayers.

He is a quite person, he was perhaps the only person admitted to QuadeAzam Medical College Bahawalpur. He told me that Zubair was also admitted there but soon got migrated to KE. After graduation he started working in his home area and except for one year he spent in Lahore for a diploma, he is in Phalia. He works in the Tehsil HQ Hospital Phalia and in the evenings has a busy practice in his home village. It is called Sohawa (different than what you see on GT Road). He has grown up kids and I think two of them are in medical colleges. He maintains a second home in Lahore for the kids and is very content to stay where he is.

I think the best quality of life is of those who are able to live a full working life in their natural habitat. For a rurally grown man, there is no more satisfaction than someone kine Shahid who works in his own area, in a purely rural atmosphere, busy to the minute, and earnng good income and a lot more goodwill and satisfaction. Similar is the story of Tariq Saeed (Javed Mandi's cousin and my class mate from RMC) who lives in Mandi and works both in Mandi and his ancestral village Gojra (not the big Gojra) a few miles away. I will write about him in a separate post.

He is a deeply religious man and I was expecting a long beard. While waiting for him in the hotel lobby with Tariq Saeed  I saw him coming and immediately recognized him. He looked the same, and surprisingly without the beard.

We spend the evening there in the restaurant. It was time well spend and worth the effort to reach out to him. His cool quite demeanor was as fresh as it was in 1973. A very contented man, with simple living and clear thinking.

He is not much in contact with the rest of the class. He did meet Ali Razaaq once and is in touch with Mohammad Ali, a fellow Haiderain, who like him is working and living in a small town for most of the professional live. 

Shahid Nasim does not have an email account, does not have time and interest in the Internet and uses the cellphone as the preferred mode of communication. He can be reached at (01192)-3007748106.

The First Muslim by Lesley Hazleton / A Review

When I saw the email that Lesley Hazleton is to appear at our Islamic Center of Long Island for a book reading the next week, I knew I had to go. Two years back she was at our fundraiser when I heard her for the first time. It was a compelling talk. It compelled me to read her book ‘After the Prophet: The Shia Sunni Divide”. I loved the book and mentioned it to all those I communicate with. Those who took my advice and read it, were divided in their opinions. Those more sympathetic to Bibi Fatima thought the author did not do justice to her. On the other hand, hard core Sunni friends did not like the author’s treatment of Bibi Aisha. This affirmed to me that book is good and objective.

Compelled by her success of the book and increasing interest in the history of Islam, she decided to write about the Prophet. She brought her skills of a skillful story teller to this book. Written like a novel, it tries to go into the minds of the characters. What they would be thinking, what would be the surroundings, the sounds, the thoughts, the feelings, the hesitations and the determinations of individuals who are part of the life of the Prophet. It is the story of the time which has be eternalized by the Muslims for all times to come. The interest in his life has pulled many faithful and otherwise into it.

What I liked about the book was the through objectivity of the facts. She mentioned, rather warned it upfront, that it is not a devotional biography. She is not a believer, in fact an agnostic Jewish New Zealander who lived a large part of her journalistic life in Beirut.

In preparation of the book, she spend much time in reading the jist of Ibn Ishaq and al Tabari, read the Quran and many secondary sources. She is attracted to the narrative of Islam and Muslims and has overall a positive attitude towards the Prophet.

I needed to hear that. How an outsider, not influenced by faith or passion, who looks into the mind of the Prophet and tells the story. It may not go well with many who do not want to hear anything short of divine about the Prophet. For others it is a very powerful story of the man we all love to know about more and more.

With time many of the stories we heard growing up about the life of the Prophet are going out of main narrations. It seems that if the whole seerat books are being revised and rewritten. Whatever people think is a bit uncomfortable, people tend to doubt that or outright reject that.

I think of myself as someone who has a decent knowledge of the life of the Prophet and like to collect books about him. I have not seem a book like this which tries to explain, no matter how subjective and flawed her assessment may be, what would have been the reason of what happened at various points of Prophet’s life

For example, she builds this narrative that Prophet grew up as an ultimate outsider and had spend all his life in attempts to be an insider. Orphaned before birth, had no inheritance and taken up by the equally unfortunate Halima as a wet nurse, stayed on for an extra two years with her instead of the usual two and when he came back to his mother, she took on a long and arduous journey to Yathrib, only to get sick on the way back and die. He is raised by his grandfather who had almost killed his father (Abdullah) and that relationship may not have been that congenial. Then Abd Mattalib dies and Prophet's uncle Abu Talib, takes him and put him to work right away as a camel boy. When the Prophet becomes smart enough to ask for marriage, Abu Talib refuses the hand of his daughter.

This is just an example of the early life of a young boy turning into a man, who has to struggle to find a place in the society much harder than an average man of his age. What goes in the mind of that person, is very intriguing and Lesley Hazleton has dared to take on that challenge.

The followings are a few of the points from her book, I feel like sharing.

She refutes many of the events as folk lores and is circumspect of many beliefs we have of the life story.

• The cleaning of the heart and mind of the Prophet as a child. It must be a dream, and many he had in his life.
• 360 idols is perhaps written back in history. It is a ninth century myth. Moreover, they were not Idols,, mostly stones and totem poles.
• Story of Isra and Miraj is probably a spiritual experience. Strangely the whole episode is not mentioned in the Tarikh of Tibri
• The last sermon ie khutba hajjul wida  was perhaps not one sermon but a collection of small speeches to the congregants. (perhaps no public address system for the more than hundred thousand pilgrims to hear all at once) 

I learnt a few new things through her book. If I had known them before, I must have forgotten them. Some of these are as follows.

• Quresh move to Mecca only five generations before the Prophet. They lived in Yemen around Marib Dam, which was destroyed in time due to bad maintenance. Several clans led by Prophet’s ancestor Qusayy adopted the name Quresh, ie those who gather together. They moved north, left agriculture and adopted the Kaaba Sanctuary.
• Story behind the name of Abdul Muttalib. His uncle al-Muttalib abducted him from his widowed mother in Yasrib. He had to hide the identity of his nephew and made him a camel boy on the way back to Mecca. Thereby dubbing him as Adblul Muttalib, the slave of Al Muttalib. The name stuck.
• His father Hashim died in Gaza and is buried there.  
• The pagan chant of Hajj was labbaik allahuman labbaik, lasharikalaka illa sharikun huaw laka (No partner except such partner as you have)
• Hijaz means barrier
• As the head of the Hashim clan, Abu Talib protected the Prophet. After his death, the elderly al Mutim was the interim chief and continued the protection of the Prophet. Then he died and Prophet was left without protection. That was the time, the Quresh plotted to kill him collectively.
• The three tribes of Jews were the part of Palestinian Jews who had fled after the failed rebellion against the Romans in the second century. They were the first settlers of Medina before Aws and Khizraj arrived. Aws and Khizraj arrived from the south at the same time when Quresh migrated north to Mecca
• On the death of Abu Jahl in Badr, the Prophet took two things of his. His dagger and his camel. It was the same camel he brought with him on the abortive trip of Umra which ended in the Truce of Hudaibia. The camel was slaughtered there. 

• There were at least three poets in Medina who were very critical of the Prophet and some zealots killed them and somehow were able to get away with that.
• Two of his wives were Jewish. Zianab and Rayhana (his seventh) from the massacred Qureza Tribe
• Banu Qaynuqa, the first tribe to be expelled, was in fact ordered to have the same fate, which fell on Banu Qureza the last one ie men to be killed, property divided and women and children made captives. There lives were spared when Abdulla bin Obay pleaded on their behalf. That pleading established the principle to which Obay conceded. The decision will be the Prophets alone.
• In the Conquest of Mecca, ten persons were ordered to be killed unless they repent. It included poets and poetesses. Half of them repented and were spared.

She raises a few questions which I find intriguing and do not have a good answer to them.

• Why his mother, Amina Bibi, took a long and difficult journey to Yasrib soon after getting her son back from Halima. The author raises the question that she might be looking for a relative who could take the guardianship of the child, but there is no record. She returns and dies on the way back.
• As a young trader he had made several trips to Damascus and would have been exposed to the cultures and belief systems of the Christians, Jews and Zorastrians.
• Treatment of the Jews at the hands of Prophet was partly because he felt the need to show strength. It sent a strong message to other potential enemies. 
• The same way as Renaissance scholars have a very negative opinion of the 'Dark Ages' and may tend to make them look a lot darker than they were, a similar attitude existed in the late 8th and 9th century  Damascus and Baghdad. That was the time of Muslim peak and the past was reinterpreted as the time of Jahilia, great ignorance, much more of a dark age then perhaps the pagans were before the advent of Islam.

Not everyone will agree with me in my assessment. NY Times have a rather harsh review on the book. click here. Those who look at the personality of the Prophet with a biased prism, whether it is positive or negative, will find faults in the book. For those who wish to blame his name will see too much of a praise and latitude given to him. On the other hand, many of my friends who wouldn't accept anything less than a devotional biography will find it blasphemous.

If for once one is willing to read the life of the Prophet as a man, with all human strengths and potential weaknesses, this book offers a very possible version of his life, thoughts, aspirations, concerns, potential shortcomings and accomplishment.

I think that someone unaware of the person of the Prophet reads this book as the first introduction of him, will come out of the book with a positive opinion of the person who is one of the most misunderstood; by people on either side of the Mohammedan debate.

I highly recommend the book to those who are open to read critical review of their loved ones.

Giving Voice To The Deaf

DEAF REACH

This past weekend Zoha and I attended a fundraiser and thought to share this experience with you.

It was one of the various emails we all get in the inbox about many a fundraiser happening in the community. It was to be at Antun's Hicksville, the All Pakistani Banquet Hall.  Food has become a lot better since taken over by Pakistanis (Read Shaheen).

Zoha received it through the Alliance network. It was about an organization running schools for the deaf in Karachi. As it is an issue close to our heart, we discussed and decided to attend it. I did not think it will be so different than what I would have thought of it.

It was arranged with the help of a local Pakistani organization PACOLI, http://pacoli.net/index.html Pakistani American Community of Long Island. It has been around for a while and has undergone several reorganizations and changes, and is now without any physician in a leadership post, perhaps a first for any Pakistani diaspora organization. But that is besides the point.

Just the fact that a project like that is happening in the middle of our cities is commendable in its own right. The race and ethnicity of the founders is important however. I am surprised at my own ignorance that while we all know and hear about the Greg Mortensons, Todd Sheas, Ethen Caseys and others like them, I had never heard of Richard Geary. And here is this guy who is living in Pakistan for all the times I had lived outside the country, starting an organization from scratch and building it into a state of the art school system for the deaf.   His partner is his wife who again, is an outsider. Amazing story and equally amazing is our ignorance of  it.

Although the world over the old "Deaf" is being replaced by "hearing impaired", the name Deaf Reach has a resonance to it. Perhaps that is the reason the name of the schools is Deaf Reach.  The organization is Family Educational Services Foundation. http://www.fesf.org.pk/ It has a highly interactive FB Page. https://www.facebook.com/deafreachkarachi?fref=ts

It is a touching story of a white American man and his Filipina wife. They had a deaf child. It changed their life in more than one ways. They first started a school in the Philippines and then moved to India. Some stroke of fortune (for Pakistan) brought them to Karachi and somehow it was difficult to go back to India. They decided to stay in Pakistan instead and start a school. There may be more to it, as far as the story is concerned  but the matter of the fact is, that Heidi and Richard Geary have made Pakistan their home. Their initial school of around 12 children have now grown into many schools across Sindh and one in Lahore. They are about to open, if not already opened, a branch in Turkey!

I was moved by the work they do and the commitment they have shown in a far away foreign land. Their own son, unfortunately died in a car accident a few years back when he had moved back to the USA.

Now they have been gifted a land in Rashidabad. Many would know about the Rashidabad and the story of a father and his colleagues in PAF who have created an oasis of education in the desert of Singh in memory of his son Rashid who diverted the plane away to save innocent lives when his plane was to crash and in the process paid with his  life. In Rashidabad they will have a state of the art School for the Deaf.

It was heartwarming to see these young kids, who would have been without much of education or self esteem, now learning Urdu, English, Pakistani Sign Language and skills to be a useful member of the society.

Astonishing to know that a whole KFC opposite Urdu College is run by these hearing impaired children. Amazing.

After the presentation, which was very moving, and left everybody teary eyed, there was a stand up comedian Saad Haroon.

This is the first time the organization is making a reach out to the diaspora in USA. Their funds are collected through I-care Foundation, which I know personally by working with Fatimid, that it is a well reputed organization. 

Over all an evening spend well and worthwhile. Thanks to all the organizers.

And heartfelt thanks to Richard Geary. He can be reached at r.geary@fesf.org.pk .

Donations can be made online by visiting the weblink. http://www.i-care-america.org/family-educational-services-foundation/

Barcelona

For Slide Show click here

The first time I heard of Barcelona was in 1971. I was ten years old and the first Men's Field Hockey Cup was being played in this Spanish city. The name had a musical ring to it. Those were the romantic days of Pakistan Hockey, Tanvir Dar and Rashid Junior. I remember sitting close to the radio and getting excited on the penalty corners of legendary Tanvir Dar.  Pakistan already had Olympic Gold and Asian Cup at that time and had something like a Triple Crown with this victory. Champions Trophy did not exist at that time.

Pakistan somehow managed to be in Semifinals, beat India and then defeated Spain in the finals. This was the last good news in Pakistan before the civil war in East Pakistan would end the year on a most painful note.

Fast forward to 2012.

Our trip to Spain ended with Barcelona.
We had to rent two cars from the AC Marriott Seville to the airport. It is the same road which we had traveled two days back on the way back from Granada. The ride to the airport was 35 Euro each car, a separate amount was added for the telephone handling.

Barcelona looked like a different country from the rest of Spain. Large, cosmopolitan and vibrant. It felt somewhat the same when I went to Karachi during my second year medical college trip from Multan. Large, bustling, diverse and vibrant. People seem to speak a different language and indeed they do. Majority speak Catalan, although everybody understands Spanish.

Hespera Towers is an elegant hotel, it was the best hotel during our stay. Tipu had perhaps arranged for an upscale hotel as the last stop on our tour. The only drawback was the distance from the city center. It is at the end of a subway train line, and takes about half an hour each way.

We had two nights to stay there and enjoyed every bit of it. The city of Barcelona, for the visitors, revolves around two men. Gaudi and Picasso, a gay conservative architect and a womanizer communist artist, . The two famous landmarks ie  the Guadi's place, Park Guell a Utopian community he tried to built at the northern end of the city and the world largest cathedral, still in the making, Holy Family Cathedral, is Sargada Familia are the everlasting gift of Gaudi to the city.

Park Guell reminds one of Disney, a sort of its predecessor and an actual community. The houses, the park and the community center, all idealistic.

Sargada Familia:
Once built it will perhaps be the largest and longest continuously built church in the world. Started in  1882 it will perhaps finish in 2026 or so. It is a 20-21st century masterpiece. We did not have the time to get inside.   It combines the old Gothic style church building architecture with the modern Gaudi concepts of environment. Many of the statues include the four seasons , the farms, vegetables and the flowers.

There are three facades, each with a theme of its own. Nativity for the Birth of Christ, Passion for the Crucifixion, and The Glory Facade for the ascension to the Heavens.

Nativity

Passion:

One of the controversial statue is the Naked Jesus, For close up check here.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/nasirgondal/7911098734/in/set-72157631361600476/lightbox/

The Ramblas:

But the heart of Barcelona is this mile and a half long strip on foot from to. If you have not gone anywhere in the city but take the walk down and up the Ramblas, you have visited the essence of the city. It is one of those stories where the once the worst part of the city gets turned into the most colorful sites. It was the draining pipelines of the city wall and were renovated to form a walkway around it and here it is.

We got off at the station Catalunya. Coming out in the open, there is a big central garden full of fountains, statues,  pigeons and people, Placa de Catalunya.

 A very lively place.
Ramblas is one of many streets which start or end up here. It is like a big circular center. All big stores are here, FNAC, Zara,El Corte Ingles. Cafe Zurich is a nice place to have coffee. We had Saleem's birthday in Hard Rock Cafe here on the second day.

Walking down the Ramblas is traveling through Barcelona in full color. You see everything city is famous for. People of every color and creed, with kiosks lining the boulevard, jugglers playing, artists painting, beggars begging, musicians and dancers performing and onlookers ogling.

Fountain of youth known as Fountain of Canaletes is just south of Catalunya. Legend says that a drink form it ensures a return trip to Barcelona.

Farmers market, La Boqueria is an interesting place. I bought dates from an Asian vendor.

At the end of it is once again Columbus. His towering monument, where he is looking at the waters. Although it was here that he returned from his first trip to the New World, but the future successes in the Americas meant less importance for Barcelona and more for the western ports like Seville  for the future returning vessels.

Beyond the monument is the large shopping area in the Waterfront..



Next day we took the bus trip of the city and it took us to the Gaudi city. This is the architect's own version of a Utopian place, It is on a hill and on looks the city and the Holy Family Cathedral  the most famous art piece of Gaudi. One of his tiles reminded me of Multan.

Picasso's life had quite a few years of Barcelona, His house is now Picasso's museum in the old city. It was a long line and we could not go in there. At the end of that corner is the church of sailors ie Santa Maria Church.

Many Indians and Pakistanis in here. From cab drivers to street vendors. I did not find much of us in Andalusia.

And the next day we left Spain for Geneva.

Sweet memories. Words of Iqbal on his way back from Spain say it well.

ہسپانیہ تو خون مسلماں کا امیں ہے

 مانند حرم پاک ہے تو میری نظر میں 

پوشیدہ تیری خاک میں سجدوں کے نشاں ہیں 

خاموش اذانیں ہیں تیری باد سحر میں 

غرناطہ بھی دیکھا مری آنکھوں نے و لیکن 

تسکین مسافر نہ سفر میں نہ حضر میں 

دیکھا بھی دکھایا بھی سنایا بھی سنا بھی 

ہے دل کی تسلی نہ نظر میں نہ خبر میں 

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References:

1. http://www.asian-women-magazine.com/pakistan/hockey/barcelona-world-cup-1971.php
2. Rick Steve;s Spain 2012
3. http://www.allamaiqbal.com/