October
21, 2005
Islamabad as
I Remember It
Images of Islamabad keep occurring
to my mind ever since the huge temblor toppled down
two 11-storey towers, killing dozens, injuring many
more, and damaging several houses in that beautiful
city on October 8, while razing to the ground Balakot,
a picturesque village in the Frontier Province and
destroying much of Muzaffarabad, the verdant hilly
capital of Azad Kashmir.
For me, Islamabad holds a special significance,
as I have spent there over two memorable decades
of my life. Here is an account of that place that
I had recorded much before it was rattled by the
quake.
As you travel from the Islamabad airport towards
the capital of Pakistan, a distance of not more
than eight miles, your attention is immediately
arrested by two things while you are still some
five miles from the city: the verdant crescent of
the Margalla Hills and the majestic Faisal Mosque
sitting on a high terraced land almost at the foot
of the hills and dominating the skyline of the city.
The Margalla Hills - the little Himalayas - constitute
a major attraction of Islamabad and positively influence
not only the physical climate of the city but also
the cultural, social and economic life of the residents.
For, the city nestles in the lap of the Margalla.
The closer a house is to the Margalla, the higher
is its value. Not only that, a house facing the
hills has a higher price tag than a house right
opposite to it facing in the other direction.
The Faisal Mosque is a major contribution of man
to the scenic beauty of the area. Without this mosque,
Islamabad would have been like Agra without the
Taj Mahal, Pisa without the Leaning Tower, or Anaheim
here in California without the Disneyland.
This grand and conspicuous national mosque symbolizes
the commanding influence of faith in the life of
the people of Pakistan.
The hills, the mosque and a salubrious, wholesome
climate are not the only attractions of Islamabad.
The construction from scratch of this city began
in 1960, but in less than a decade it had already
emerged as one of the new national capitals of the
20th century. Not much later it could boast a number
of playgrounds, green belts, gardens, fountains,
avenues, shopping centers, radio and TV headquarters,
numerous newspapers, multi-storied commercial and
government buildings, a vast hospital complex, parliament
building, Presidential palace, Prime Minister's
Secretariat and his majestic residence, a sports
complex, a zoo of sorts, and a vast city park.
Almost all creature comforts and amenities of modern
living are available in the city. But, that is exactly
what has created the oddities and given it a paradoxical
character.
Islamabad strikes one as a patch of the 20th century
on a 19th century tapestry: it is an island of 'haves'
surrounded by a vast sea of 'have-nots'. Islamabad
does not epitomize life elsewhere in the country.
As a wit has put it, Pakistan is fifteen miles away
from Islamabad.
From the heart of the adjoining Rawalpindi city
to the center of Islamabad one travels a mere twelve
miles in terms of space but perhaps a century in
terms of time. In an elitist society, a city for
the elite was inevitable.
Islamabad was originally meant to be a civil servants'
town like Ottawa, Washington or Canberra. But, with
the shift from Karachi to Islamabad of the nation’s
policy-making apparatus, and given the concentration
of power in the political leadership and bureaucracy,
and the pendulum of power swinging, from time to
time, between the civil and military leaders, both
having their headquarters here, the elite of the
society made a bee-line to the blossoms of the burgeoning
new seat of power.
The feudal lords, the industrial magnates, the commercial
houses, the wheeler-dealers, and the nouveau riche
all found it beneficial to have places (palaces)
of their own in this seat of power. Building a house
in Islamabad became their favorite pastime. It provided
them and their spouses an opportunity of relieving
the tedium of affluence. Some of the houses reflect
the indigestion of the wealth (ill-gotten?) of the
owners. Given to ostentatious living, they have
sunk enormous amounts into turning the faces of
their houses as unique, striking and imposing facades.
The social and intellectual life of Islamabad, its
sights, sounds and smells, and its tempo, are not
the same as in the rest of the country. A writer
from Karachi said this on a visit: "Islamabad
is a strangely beautiful city. It has evolved its
own distinct culture, so different from the rest
of the country. At times one wonders the city doesn't
belong to Pakistan. No burning of car tires on the
roads, no pelting of stones, no broken lamps, no
slogan mongering, no graffiti on the walls.... Soon
after sunset, the birds, beasts and 'babus' of Islamabad
are back in their nests."
An income for the babus is often a mere teaser -
they can hardly live without or within. Inflation
has eroded their purchasing power but the financial
‘wizards’ of the governments of all
shades and colors keep reassuring him that it is
negligible. Yet, a little inflation is like a littler
pregnancy – it keeps growing till severe birth
pangs set in and bring forth a new life, and a new
leader.
The regime had to change as it did with the military
coup in the autumn of 1999. Many things are generally
reported to have conspicuously improved since then.
Islamabad has become cleaner, greener and perhaps
more beautiful and attractive. Even the ruling elite,
traditionally impervious and insensitive to the
pain and pathos of the clerk and the common man
and his family, are said to be more responsive.
The political scenario presents to the newspaper
reading public a very amusing oddity. College graduate
members of the Assembly move like puppets on the
political stage. Their strings are firmly in the
hands of their leaders living and enjoying life
in London, Jeddah or elsewhere. The leaders are
abroad, their spokesmen, surrogates and agents are
in Islamabad and followers are stranded all over
the country. Even in the docile civil servants town,
these patsy politicians lead marches chanting: No
LFO, No: Go Musharraf, Go. The madarsa-graduate
maulanas join in the chorus with their flowing beards
and robes, colorful turbans, flowery speeches and
cloudy schemes. Islamabad thus presents now a political
potpourri of multifarious parties and pursuits bringing
some color into the prosaic lives of the ‘babus’
and providing them with material for their cathartic
evening chats with friends and families.
They may rank quite low in the graded hierarchy
of Islamabad officialdom, but they have undoubtedly
enough common sense to know who is conducting the
political orchestra and to whose music, and whether
the slim rod he wields is a wand or a swagger stick.
Even a dog knows if it is stumbled over or kicked.
In this moment of a grave national crisis, the man
with the swagger stick appears to be sincerely endeavoring
to measure up to the enormous challenge instead
of confining himself, like his predecessors, to
an ivory tower of Islamabad. The Edhi Foundation
and certain political parties, Muttahida is said
to be one them, are quietly working day and night
to ameliorate the misery of the affected people.
Has anyone heard of the political luminaries living
abroad parting with even a sliver of their legitimate
or illegitimate wealth? - arifhussaini@hotmail.com
October 14, 2005 -
