My Identity!

It is 1965; I am five and have just started going to school, a Sindhi medium, in a small town of Sindh province. I make many friends in the class; Muslim and Hindu. We live in a rented house. The adjacent large house belongs to a Hindu family. We live in complete harmony and visit each other’s houses, exchange food on Eids, Holi and Diwali. The war breaks out between Pakistan and India. I hear sporadic loud noise of air force planes flying overhead without spotting them and when siren cries out at a distance from our home alarming to hide Mommy runs to the outer gate to pull me inside. The war doesn’t cast any impact on our relations with Hindu neighbours and friends. During and after the war, we the pupils, at the assembly of school every morning sing the song whose first line is: Khitta-e-Lahore Tere Jan Nisaron Ko Salam (O land of Lahore! We salute all those who sacrifice their lives for you), and then chant slogans; Pakistan Zindabad, and Nara-e-Takbeer, Allah-O-Akbar.

At the age of five, I learn that I am a Pakistani and India is our enemy.

It is 1967; I am now in class three.  One day a vendor visits our classroom and sells Islamic single-page pamphlets on which Quranic Aayahs (Verses), Ahadees (sayings of Prophet Mohammad PBUH) and other relevant Islamic information is inscribed. I and a friend of mine choose the one which is in a shape of hand containing hundreds of names of prophets, caliphates, Sahaba (companions of Prophet Muhammad PBUH) and other Islamic personalities written on the palm and fingers of the hand.  We both buy it for showing to our respective parents with enthusiasm & pride. My mother cannot read but my father takes a deep look at it and asks me to keep this pamphlet safe from getting it desecrated. Next day my friend runs to me and enquires whether did I show it to my parents? I nod. Did they cut a piece out of it and throw it away as my father did?  And he shows me his pamphlet that has an almost rectangle cut in the center i.e. devoid of some names. I take out mine and compare the two and we find that three names have been omitted, the three caliphates; Hazrat Abu Bakar, Hazrat Umar and Hazrat Usman. He asks me to do the same with my pamphlet.  On returning home from the school I request my Dad to cut that piece of pamphlet carrying names of three caliphates. Who tells you to do that? Dad asks while looking perturbed? After listening to me, he asks me to sit down and tells me that you are not going to do it because we are Sunni and your friend is Shia.

At seven, I discover that I am a Sunni, and Muslims consist of two sects; Sunni and Shia.

It is 1968. I can read some basic Urdu now but cannot speak it. I can also identify English alphabets but cannot recite them in the order of their appearance, and able to read some proper nouns like names of cities and countries. Through my Social Studies and History (distorted) text books, I learn that Pakistan came into being in 1947 after a long struggle by Sub-Continent Muslim population. Pakistan in divided into two parts; West Pakistan (WP) and East Pakistan (EP). I live in West Pakistan which also governs East Pakistan, located about 1000 miles away from us. People in EP speak Bengali language, and EP is prone to frequent severe flooding and sea storms. I overhear sometimes father saying that living conditions in EP are not good, people are very poor, and that the rulers in WP are not doing enough to alleviate poverty in EP. During next summer season we go to visit Quetta, a hill station. This is my first ever travel in a train. I find the phrase “Pakistan Western Railways (PWR) quite fascinating, printed everywhere on the train. On a query Dad tells me that trains running in East Pakistan have the emblem Pakistan Eastern Railways (PER) printed on them. I wish to see it someday. I love the PWR abbreviation and it resides in my memory perpetually.

 I come to know that I live in West Pakistan and its other part is called East Pakistan.

December 1971; we are now living in larger town. We moved here in 1969 for secondary and onward education. Our neighbourhood mostly consists of Urdu speaking (Muhajir) families. I can speak Urdu fairly well now because I have developed friendship with many Muhajir boys and most of our leisure time is spent in going to cinema or flying kites. One fine morning when I go to school I find people digging trenches in our play ground. During the assembly, the headmaster informs us that we are at war with India and that whenever you hear sound of siren, run immediately to hide yourselves in trenches. However, the schools are closed for indefinite period. While the war is going on, I, along with my friends, enjoy holidays and love playing in the gardens. On hearing sound of siren we hide beneath Jamun (Blueberries), Amrood (Guava) & Mango trees and in trenches, and find these war times very thrilling.  We lose the war; East Pakistan gets independence and is named as Bangladesh. My dream of visiting EP and watching trains running with PER emblems gets shattered. Trains in Pakistan have new emblem i.e. Pakistan Railways (PR).

 I stop living in West Pakistan. East Pakistan ceases to exist. It is just Pakistan now.

Somewhere in the middle of 1973; ethnic riots erupt and grip the whole Sindh as a result of scuffle between Sindhi and Muhajir students in Sindh University. The riots continue for several days during which incidents of murders, arson, looting, etc., take place across the province. Government declares curfew in the cities and towns to control the situation. Curfew is quite exciting.  We come out and play in the streets till a police van appears and makes us run to our respective homes. I am still living in the same neighbourhood and enjoying the company of same friends.

 I am forced to believe that I am Sindhi. I am Pakistani at school morning assembly only.

It is 1975; we, the children of neighbourhood, like to play hide & seek in the late nights, especially during the month of Ramadhan. One such night two of us run to find a suitable place to hide. My friend takes me into a house that has a large hall. I ask him curiously whose house is this and where are the inmates of this house! He corrects me and says it is not a house, it is a mosque. Finding me bewildered, he quickly adds that this Masjid belongs to Ahle Hadees; these places are hard to be recognized from outside due to their simplicity. Interior is also kept simple.  A few days later, I come to know that Ahle Hadees, also called Wahabi, is a faction of Sunni Muslims.

 As I grow, so does my painful knowledge about more divisions of Muslim.

Time goes by; it is now 1979. I am studying engineering in Karachi and live in a hostel. I make many friends in Karachi; all happen to be non-Sindhi i.e. with their mother tongues other than Sindhi. Once I come to know that one of my friends is Qadiyani or Ahmadi. Regardless of this revelation I continue to enjoy friendship with him but remain curious without daring to ask a direct question why he is Qadiyani!

Qadiyani sect is decreed non-Muslim in Pakistan.

1980; one of my hostel-mates persuades me to accompany him to Madani Masjid for attending a lecture on Islam. Once on a weekend evening I accompany him to visit the said Mosque, and participate in a weekly “Tableegi Ijitama (Preachers’ Gathering)” from Maghrib to Isha prayers. I was aware of Tableegis (preachers) from the childhood when they, in a group of 6 to 10, used to knock on the door and extend an invitation for offering joint prayers (Namaz) in the nearby mosque and sparing a few days to go on preaching with them but this time visiting their place of stronghold in an entirely new experience. At the gathering my friend and others keep convincing me that by joining hands with them would help me become a better Muslim in this world and would be benefited hereafter. A month later I again accompany my friend to a 3-day Tableegi Ijtama (Gathering). While my companions consider me as their potential member, I am hardly ready at the young age to accept spirituality of such gathering.

 

Here comes a new Sub-faction of Sunni Muslims; Devbandi (Tableegi).

It is 1983; I am in Lahore to begin my career in a public organization. I stay temporarily with a senior colleague in Krishna Nagar. I start noticing that the call for Namaz from a nearby mosque is delivered with some added phrases at the beginning of Azan. Offering prayers in that mosque also brings new experience as it offers some formalities (Aadaab) before and after the Namaz with emphasis on reciting Durood Sharif (praise for Mohammad, PBUH) repeatedly. Inquisition into it reveals that this mosque belongs to Brelvi sub-faction of Sunni Muslims.

Yet another sub-faction of Sunni Muslims; this time it is called “Brelvi”.

        

Thus, at the age of 23 when I have just stepped into practical life I have been exposed to various experiences of nationalism and Islamism which leaves me at the crossroads; Pakistani first or Muslim first, Sindhi first or Pakistani first, Sunni first or Muslim first, and if Sunni; Devbandi, Wahabi or Brelvi! Every faction tries to pull me with the premise and promise that it is the only way to salvation. Like me, every new adult undergoes serious infighting within himself pondering which side to go with.

I am 50 plus now; an enthusiastic Pakistani from the childhood saw his identity getting diluted as he grew old. Introduction to various sects and factions of Islam during first 25 years of my life amid atmosphere of rising ethnicity coupled with injustice, corruption, kidnapping for ransom and crime shook up my heart and mind badly. Next 25 years saw sectarian and ethnic issues getting more complex than easing out. Once a peaceful and tolerant society where mutual respect and application of restraint in any undesirable situation was largely prevalent has changed drastically into a disrespectful and hostile environment. People can no more absorb the trouble, stress and frustration and flare up at a small pretext leading to killing or getting killed. The term disliking is becoming obsolete and being replaced with hatred. The society has fragmented on the basis of ethnicity and religious sects & factions. Its collapse is evident from the emergence of new sects and factions sprouting out from time to time across the country and gaining popularity as well.

Moreover, violent protest rallies, damage to public & private property, arson, murder, and ethnic & sectarian cleansing through suicide bomb blasts & targeted killings are everyday affair. The conditions have deteriorated rapidly in the post 9/11 era leading to extremist thoughts and vengeance-like behaviours. We take pleasure in nurturing religious zealots, ignore kidnapping for ransom, feel proud in plundering the national wealth, numb on honour killings & acid attacks on women, shameless in encouraging extortion, blind on crime & corruption, enjoy hypocrisy, and backbiting being our best pastime.

Where do I stand now? Am I a proud Pakistani? Well, it’s a matter of feeling and pragmatism; the emotions keep me tied down to patriotism come what may but in cogent terms I am not only reluctant but nonassertive too. Waving national flag has turned symbolic and that too on celebration of Independence Day only, or sometimes, during winning a cricket match against India. There can’t be nastiest definition of patriotism in Pakistan than being labeled as a patriotic Pakistani only when you are either anti-Indian or to some extent anti-American. 

So, where is the ray of hope? Perhaps, divine help is needed to turn the tide. The nation looks to the heavens for a messiah.