Mahjabeen Islam

July 21, 2006

Hooked on Lahore

Lahore has to be Pakistan’s gem. I was practically raised by the austere nuns of Convent of Jesus and Mary Lahore till I left at age 11. I visited recently and even though decades have elapsed, my city is still charming and wondrous. The mistake has been to tag Pakistan by Karachi for I visit every year and each time Karachi is tenser and tearing apart it seems - the classic killjoy for a vacation. My discovery of Lahore has re-ignited what was fast becoming a failing love affair with Pakistan.
56 Mayo Gardens looked so different; perhaps the perspective at 3 feet is different from what it is now that I am at 5 feet 5 inches. Why have people made their houses into veritable fortresses? Why has the veranda been covered over? The tree at the edge of the lawn looked lean; not the one that we climbed and spent all our afternoons on. I held back the tears for it seemed to be condoling with me; two years after those climbs both my brothers were killed in a car accident in Turkey.
We circled Mayo Gardens Club for I was anxious to catch a glimpse of the tennis court that my father collapsed on, but they are all enclosed now.
The obvious Arabization of Pakistan was the greatest damper. The shalwar kameez is inherently a modest outfit and the dupatta can and has been adequately fashioned to serve as a hijab. That seems to have fallen by the wayside; black jilbabs (long coats), hijabs and niqabs (veil) are common to see. During that time Dr. Israr Ahmad’s statement that Arabic should be made the national language of Pakistan deepened my angst, for it seems that a firebrand, literalistic version of Islam is taking root in Pakistan.
Hijab is mandated in Islam, but nowhere does it say that it must come in the jilbab-hijab duo. Why are we wordlessly accepting a culture that is in and of itself devoid of culture? What difference is there between an Arab wedding and any European one? Why can religion and culture not be compartmentalized? If all art, music and literature in Pakistan are deliberately dismantled, we too will have a soulless country, as though life in Pakistan is not morose enough as it is.
Friends wanted to know why it was that I wanted to visit the tomb of Data Ganj Baksh. “To read fateha, of course,” I said, “I am in Data ki nagri, after all”. They said I could read fateha from home and that I would be advised not to go, for it had become a nexus for drugs and prostitution. I allayed their fears saying that I had no intention of trading in drugs or getting recruited into the oldest profession. Again the perspective of a child is so different from that of an adult; the tomb looked the same and yet not as intimidating or large as it did when I was ten. And to the detractors I reported that I was not propositioned, in fact even the panhandlers were fewer than I expected.
History is an essential ingredient of culture and in line with the shredding of Pakistan’s culture are the pitiful states that the Lahore Fort, the Badshahi Mosque and other historical sites are in. Is it that our populace does not pay taxes or is the tax money consumed by the officials or do we entirely negate the vital importance of our heritage? I am trying not to be paranoid and ascribe the Arabization of Pakistan and the gross neglect of our historical sites to the defined agenda of a particular group.
I am always intrigued by the ability of shopkeepers and the like to pick up on a Pakistani that lives in the US or Europe. I have tried unsuccessfully to determine what signals we give out that they know so quickly and so well. I was dressed in a shalwar kameez and was speaking to my friend in Urdu, but the ticket collector at the Lahore Fort was dead sure that I was a foreigner. It was good to see that someone at least was doing his job for entry is Rs. 10 for an adult and Rs. 200 for a foreigner.
The gem within the gem is Shaukat Khanum Hospital. State-of-the-art facilities catering to all economic strata seem so discordant in a place like Pakistan. Even more surprising was being able to arrange to deliver a lecture in Palliative Care by just calling the CEO’s secretary, rather than the “usual” route of knowing the right people who then pull the requisite strings.
. On the way to Shaukut Khanum Hospital, or any drive for that matter, one sees Land Cruisers aplenty, a couple 700 series BMWs and to my amazement Range Rovers! I was vertiginous looking at this opulence around me; an arrogant contrast to skinny little children swimming in the muddy canal. The rich are nauseatingly rich and the poor starkly so; interspersed with a quietly desperate middle class.
Pakistan at 170 million is now the sixth most populous nation in the world and apparently five Pakistanis are born every minute! Population planning is banished in the “if you don’t see it, it don’t hurt” category; one statistic projects Pakistan as being the third most populous nation by 2050. A third of the nation lives in poverty and the literacy rate is a pathetic 34% in men and 17% in women. And yet education seems to have been pushed into the lap of NGOs, when it is the most vital responsibility of any government. Ours plays the India card to pad the defense budget, while Pakistanis procreate prolifically, and the nation spirals into an abyss of hunger and disease.
I am grateful for being a physician, makes for comfortable vacations. The hygiene level in Pakistan is so poor and food and water-borne diseases so pervasive, that had it not been for taking almost-daily ciprofloxacin, I would have dehydrated due to traveler’s diarrhea (gastroenteritis) for sure.
Pakistan remains the embodiment of one contradiction after another. Accounts for my vertigo. A bedraggled, malnourished young boy at the Lahore Fort was busy playing with his friends and a camera phone. A handicrafts store was manned by 13-year-olds and one possibly 20-year-old. Unable to hold myself back this time I asked why the boys were not in school. It was summer vacation the adult among them said, to my relief.
An artist who has also been a resident of the Walled City has opened a restaurant called Cucoo’s (no k, their spelling) there. His artwork aims to explain the plight of the desperate women that ply their trade in those parts, and it greets you as soon as you step inside. A particularly heartrending painting of a voluptuous female says, “I am deaf and dumb and my baby is sick, please help me, I will give discount”. If you have not had a cardiac stress test and passed, you are advised to avoid the climb to the rooftop restaurant. The narrow, steep and winding staircase adds to the mystery of the restaurant. The view of The Badshahi Mosque and the Lahore Fort is breathtaking; in fact there is a surreal ambience to the place. The ordinariness of the food grounds you though.
My mother had encouraged me to go to Farhat Ali Jewelers for she had fond memories of them from the time soon after her wedding. The quiet old world sophistication and classical Urdu are alive and well. Noticing yellow plaques on his eyelids, I asked one of the owner’s sons if he had had his cholesterol checked. He had, he said. “It was 300, wasn’t it?” I asked. “290”, he said. He was not taking the medication that he had been prescribed on the premise that he did not follow a diet nor was their enough exercise. I explained that medication was mandatory at this level of cholesterol and wondered what the name of the medication was. He called his wife and reported that it was “Lipton, vipton or something like that”. Amused I advised him to take 40 mg of Lipitor.
He began to write the receipt and aiming to help out I told him that my name was Mahjabeen. Still writing he said, “There was no need for you to have told me; you epitomize the name Mahjabeen”. I had an immediate case of the warm and fuzzies.
Caught now in the furious activities of daily living, I reminisce and sense Lahore’s transcontinental magnetism. I go on a mental spree of sorts; how does one detangle oneself and return to:
Magar mujh ko lauta do bachpan ka sawan
Wo kagaz ki kashti who barish ka pani
(Mahjabeen Islam is a physician and freelance columnist residing in Toledo Ohio. Her email address is mahjabeenislam@hotmail.com)