Mian Ijaz Ul HassanRocking on a chair, with a desk full of official telephones, with serfs leashed to a bell, is hard work but hopping offices, seeking appointments with low-grade chimpanzees is something else
There are three kinds of people. The first kind has to work for a living, but can’t find work. Their number increases every day. How long can they survive on the dole of relatives? Talking of dole, our country hasn’t actually done so badly. Sardar Aseff Ahmed Ali, our former foreign minister recounted to me the other day what Rose Maria Ullrich a Spanish Ambassador once said to him. The Ambassador had, for the first, time driven from Islamabad to Lahore to visit Sardar Sahib.
“God will never forgive you for being poor!” he said, “All the way from Islamabad, I saw nothing but fertile agricultural land, I saw three rivers and many canals full of water and people working hard in the hot mid-day sun. Most of Spain is a mountainous plateau. All the water we have does not equal what flows through one of your rivers. And yet Spain is rich. Your Excellency, why is Pakistan poor?” A good question! Do we need anyone to tell us why?
The second type consists of people who are compelled to work overtime; in fact many have to do two jobs in a day. Work in an office at daytime and run a shop or a business in the evening. Even then it is hard for them to make two ends meet. Time for children and family? Holidays? You must be joking.
The third category comprises persons who don’t sweat but have to work hard to stash away the money that has inadvertently come their way. This is not easy and anyone can’t do it. If for no other reason, one has to first have cash in order to ‘do it’. There is this suave fellow I know at the golf club who was innocently asked by a social illiterate, “What do you do?” While taking a casual swing, to revive his muscle memory before teeing-off, he disdainfully replied. “I play golf.”
“No I mean what do you do?” He asked again, putting an extra stress on the ‘do’. “Well! I read, occasionally like to see a movie and have bubbly drinks with friends in the evening,” he placidly replied again.
“No! No! I mean what do you do for work?” he asked for the third time with visible impatience. “Work? I don’t work! I have kept others to work for me,” was the cool answer, after which he casually sauntered off towards the golf ball that had been driven for a good two hundred and fifty yards.
Then there are people of yet another kind. Birds of a feather, who stick together, but rarely after their retirement — the bureaucrats. It is a pity they soon lose their glitter. Sad to see the common sun fall on their person, to publicly mop their brow, rub shoulders with the common riff raff and have difficulty killing time.
There was a time when bureaucrats lived more productive lives after their retirement. Many of them were well-read and continued to love scholarship and were respected for it. Many wrote personal accounts and dabbled in arts, literature and other cerebral pursuits. Late Agha Abdul Hameed, Chief Secretary of West Pakistan was a scholar of Arabic, Persian and Urdu literature. He was a learned critic, and being temperamentally a Sufi was devoted to the study of Sufism. Besides writing on art and literature he wrote the orthography of Punjabi language in Arabic alphabet, at a time when Punjabi was regarded the language of Sikhs in official circles. It was a pleasure to be in his infectious company. He was profoundly knowledgeable but easy in manners, the closest thing to a Cambridge Don in his scholarly attributes.
One may differ with Altaf Gauhar’s political views but he had a thinking mind and applied it not just to upgrade himself in his career. Besides, Pakistan’s First Military Dictator, he wrote several other substantial books. Even the people who worked with him achieved a level of excellence, which is rare to find today. Jalal ud Din Ahmad worked feverishly to promote the arts in our country and produced the first book on painting in Pakistan. After his retirement, he worked as executive editor for the well-known international journal, Arts and the Islamic World. He is still actively trying to publish books on Pakistani artists. Recently he has been instrumental in publishing a book on Ali Imam, by Marjorie Hussain, another one on Zubeida Agha, by Dr Musarrat Hasan is under print. Late Amjad Ali, who also worked in the information department, besides constantly writing on art, has also produced a well-catalogued and illustrated book, Painters of Pakistan.
Qudratullah Shahab has left us his Shahabnama. He was a considerable force in supporting writers and literature in his lifetime. Dr Aftab Ahmad an erudite scholar has produced works of critical insight and scholarship on Ghalib, Faraq Gorakhpuri, Iqbal and Faiz. Unfortunately we lost Mustafa Zaidi in the early years of his life, but he lives on in his verse. Mr Roedad Khan the former Secretary Interior and Mr Shaharyar Khan our former Secretary Foreign Affairs have also authored comprehensive books based on their respective concerns and area of expertise.
My friend Qasim Jaffry, nephew of the great humorist Zameer Jaffry, himself a litterateur, has helped me to add a few more names which I was about to miss. Hasham Raza, Noon Meem Rashid and Mukhtar Masood, are no small names. I believe A G Awan, Inspector General of former West Pakistan, produced a book of essays, Beyond the Hills and Over the Mountains. Did you know that Shafiq ur Rehman was a general. Imagine developing such a great sense of humour in the army, which is strewn across his novels and short stories with such generous profusion. Some generals even now never cease to make you laugh, but differently.
Athar Tahir is among the few today who have demonstrated an aptitude for scholarship and literature during active service. His intellectual pursuits range from writing English verse to critical studies on Punjabi poets and literature. I believe he has authored an authoritative book on Islamic Calligraphy, which is soon to be launched. Nazeer Ahmad Chaudhry, a former Resident Director of the Lahore Arts Council, at the end of his career, authored a few well-illustrated books on various subjects of general and popular interest. Ghulam Fareed ud din Riaz paints and has written three volumes of English verse. But strictly speaking he cannot be regarded as a true bureaucrat because he resigned from service early in his career. However it was at his house that I had an opportunity to flavour the poetry of two distinguished government servants, Javed Qureshi and Akhtar Saeed.
Qureshi Sahib delivered his couplets in a smooth, hushed voice, without a crease of feeling registered on his face. In contrast I found Akhtar Saeed in considerable agony while reciting his verse. Fortunately he took the listener along even though it appeared he was all lost to himself. I can only hope they would publish themselves so that we can read and be moved or inspired at our own leisure
Add to this, the works of Dr Rafique Mughal, Professor Dani, Ahmed Nabi Khan and the late Wali ullah Khan, of the Archaeology Department, whose professional work involved research, documentation and writing and this sums up the total burden, which our prized bulls have carried on their backs in the last fifty six years.
Each one of these individuals could have been a good role model for their successors but unfortunately the new officers were differently inclined. Successive generations of government servants became more and more adept at discovering methods and means to curry favour with powerful politicians. When more than one political party shared power, they served either one or the other, with loyalty to none. A thing, which can be said in their favour, is that unlike the army, they had contact with grass root realities.
Had democracy not been derailed, partly by their efforts, they could have served the country better. I have noticed that some citizens like to create humour at the expense of a retired civil servant. In the same vein the bureaucrats never tire of deriding public representatives. Poor things, once the glitter has faded, even the wife finds the husband quite tiresome. He does not go to office and constantly cribs about this and that.
The wife used to flitting in and out of the house at her will is distraught with the permanent presence. He is like an additional piece of furniture lodged awkwardly in the house, getting in her way, constantly bruising her knee or toes. She heaves a sigh of relief when he goes to the club or ventures out for a walk or a haircut. In spite of the receding hairline and the glaring patch on the crown, he has haircuts more frequently, even allows a common pair of hands to give him a massage and a shave as frequently as possible.
Unfortunately all his brilliant business ventures unforeseeably fail to produce the desired results, depleting his savings. It is hard to be patient, and people will not be ordered around anymore. Friends you have trusted fail to live up to expectations. Rocking on a chair, with a desk full of official telephones, with serfs leashed to a bell, is hard work but hopping offices, seeking appointments with low-grade chimpanzees is something else. He discovers that even parking a car can be an ordeal; no one even steps forward to open the door. The trials of a retired life are endless.
How long can anyone tolerate a novice at Bridge? Trumping your own partner’s card, saying ‘pass’ when your partner has opened with two of a suit. Making an opening bid because you are enchanted at being dealt an Ace, a King and a Queen of a four-carder suit in a hand of nine points.
People who were always eager to hear your comments suddenly find you too chatty. Considering that an individual has never exercised his ears during his career, listening to others is a trying experience.
Even Mark Anthony had to plead with the Roman bureaucracy to lend him an ear. But Mark was a general who could not be so easily ignored. Personally, I have not known many generals. There were only a few who joined the army from my school. The ones I have known always stood on their toes and looked like generals with a glint in their eyes. A person who stands on his heal cannot be a general but is a heel. The generals often like not to write but instead have books written about them. I wonder what are the trials of generals after retirement. The coarse peasants say that a general is like an elephant, worth a lakh in his life and worth a lakh and a quarter after retirement.
Prof Ijaz-ul-Hassan is a painter, author and a political activist