Mohammad Iqbal

For Mohammad Iqbal, his decision to convert to the Ahmadi faith almost cost him his life.

It took his father fourteen years to start pressurising Iqbal to change his decision. Despite several threats, Iqbal, who belongs to the Arain caste, did not give in.

Iqbal says he escaped two murder attempts before his own father asked a local cleric to register a case (PDF). Even though one of the witnesses from the cleric’s side refused to testify against Iqbal, he was sentenced to life imprisonment by a sessions court in Faisalabad. Iqbal recalls seeing “turbaned men” in large numbers at his trial hearings.

After six years in jail, his sentence was overturned by the high court on appeal. Iqbal was 40 when he was released from jail in June 2010, and joined his family in Rabwah, who had moved there three years earlier.

Iqbal’s wife was expecting a child when he was imprisoned, and he was only able to meet the child six months after it was born.

In an interview, he recalled conditions in the jail. Iqbal was kept in a cell with others jailed for committing blasphemy, including a Muslim. “We were kept together since the jail also housed extremists and terrorists,” he said. “Taliban members, the men who plotted that assassination attempt on Pervez Musharraf… they were all there and they knew the jail housed people convicted under the blasphemy law.” According to Iqbal, he was only allowed to leave the cell if he had visitors.

He is now trying to rebuild his life. Only one of his brothers still speaks to him. His father has reportedly offered to sign over land to him if he reneges on his faith. The cleric who filed the original case has died, and there is no one to account for why Iqbal spent six years in jail.

He is one of the many Pakistanis who have been victimised and targeted under the blasphemy laws. Dozens of lawsuits have been filed against members of all faiths on the basis of little to no evidence. Allegations of blasphemy have been responsible for triggering off riots, such as in Korian and Gojra in 2009.

The majority of blasphemy cases are filed in Punjab, where both Governor Salmaan Taseer and Federal Minister for Minorities Affairs Shahbaz Bhatti were assassinated in 2011. Taseer’s assassin confessed that he killed the governor for his opposition to the blasphemy law. Flyers strewn around the scene of Bhatti’s assassination declared that he had been killed because he was on a “committee reviewing the legislation”.

In its report on the state of human rights and democracy in 2010, the UK Foreign and Commonwealth Office stated: “Unfortunately efforts by the Pakistani government to reduce the abuses associated with the blasphemy law have been stalled by public opposition to any reform following the assassination of Governor Taseer, and there is little likelihood of much-needed reform in the near future”.

“I cannot even think of committing blasphemy,” Iqbal declared. “Section 295 is a wrong law. I was convicted merely on testimony, without any proof. I have no hope of it being repealed – look at Aasia Bibi’s case or the assassinations of Taseer and Bhatti. The situation is worsening.”

This interview was conducted in Rabwah in June 2011.

Ajmal Kamal: The making of the modern maulvi (Parts I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII, VIII, IX, X, XI, XII, XIII, XIV, XV) – The Express Tribune

Matthieu Aikins: Our Man in Kandahar – The Atlantic

Mohammed Hanif: Seven Places in My Heart – Newsline

Jason Burke: The Price of Oranges – Guernica

Huma Imtiaz: In search of the Jews of Karachi – The Express Tribune Magazine

Manan Ahmed: Ways of Seeing – The Caravan

Omar Waraich: Salmaan Taseer: Governor of Punjab and outspoken defender of minority causes – The Independent

Siddharta Deb: Sweet Smell of Success – The Caravan [sadly, no longer available on the website]

Graeme Wood: Peshawar’s human trade puts a price on freedom – The National

Vinod K Jose: Falling Man – The Caravan

Abdul Manan: In Punjab, a Christian can’t present the provincial budget - The Express Tribune

Abdul Manan: The high cost of Shahbaz Sharif’s ‘perfectionism’ – The Express Tribune

Samanth Subramanian: The Confidence Man – The Caravan

Shahid Saeed: Caught! (But What?) – The Friday Times

Anthony Shadid: Street battle over the Arab future – The New York Times

Christopher S Stewart: ‘Little Gitmo’ - New York magazine

Iftikhar Firdous: Brides of Al Qaeda – The Express Tribune Magazine

Michael Hastings: The Runaway General - Rolling Stone

Ahmer Naqvi: Last Stop on the Rawalpindi Express (Part 1, maybe) – Copy Paste Material

Den Dhur and Hallis Sarper: Obi-Wan Kenobi is dead, Vader says – Galactic Empire Times

Tom Gara: The Hangover 3, potential Middle East editions – A Different Drummer

Son, you’re going to marry a country they want to kill, one that could be simply Rwandan if it had the chance, the country of a thousand hills, which all of us, nameless and heedless of origin, have built like patient, obstinate fools. Son, we must flee the madness that invents peoples and tribes. It respects neither the country’s sons nor its daughters. It creates demons and spells, lies that become truth and rumours that are claimed as historical fact.

A Sunday at the Pool in Kigali by Gil Courtemanche

ابن انشا

عزیزو! بہت دن پہلے اس ملک میں انگریزوں کی حکومت ہوتی تھی، اور درسی کتابوں میں ایک مضمون “برکات حکومت انگلشیہ” کے عنوان سے شامل رہتا تھا. اب ہم آزاد ہیں. اس زمانے کے مصنف حکومت انگلشیہ کی تعریف کیا کرتے تھے، کیو نکہ اس کے سوا چارہ نہ تھا. ہم اپنے عہد کی آزاد اور قومی حکومتوں کی تعریف کریں گے. اس کی وجہ بھی ظاہر ہے.

عزیزو! انگریزوں نے کچھ اچھے کام بھی کئے لیکن ان کے زمانے میں خرابیاں بہت تھیں. کوئی حکومت کے خلاف بولتا تھا یا لکھتا تھا تو اس کو جیل بھیج دیتے تھے. اب نہیں بھیجتے. رشوت ستانی عام تھی. آج کل نہیں ہے. دکاندار چیزیں مہنگی بیچتے تھے اور ملاوٹ بھی کرتے تھے. آج کل تو کوئی مہنگی نہیں بیچتا، ملاوٹ بھی نہیں کرتا. انگریزوں کے زمانے میں امیر اور جاگیر دار عیش کرتے تھے، غریبوں کو کوئی پوچھتا بھی نہیں تھا. اب امیر لوگ عیش نہیں کرتے اند غریبوں کو ہر کوئی اتنا پوچھتا ہے کہ وہ تنگ آجاتے ہیں. خصوص ان حق رائے دہندگی با لغان کے بعد سے.

تعلیم اور صنعت وحرفت کو لیجئے. ربع صدی کے مختصر عرصے میں ہماری شرح خواندگی اٹھارہ فی صدی ہوگئ تھی. غیر ملکی حکومت کے زمانے میں ایسا ہو سکتا تھا؟ انگریز شروع شروع میں ہمارے دستکاروں کے انگھوٹے کاٹ دیتے تھے، اب کارخانوں کے مالک ہمارے اپنے لوگ ہیں. دستکاروں کے انگھوٹے نہیں کاٹتے ہاں کبھی کبھی پورے دستکار کو کاٹ دیتے ہیں. آزادی سے پہلے ہندو بنئیے اور سرمایہ دار ہمیں لوٹا کرتے تھے. ہماری خواہش تھی کہ یہ سلسلہ ختم ہو اور ہمیں مسلمان بنئیے اور سیٹھ لوٹیں. الحمدللہ کہ یہ آرزو پوری ہوئی. جب سے حکومت ہمارے ہاتھ میں آئی ہے. ہم نے ہر شعبے میں بہت ترقی کی ہے. درآمد برآمد بھی بہت بڑھ گئی ہے. ہماری خاص برآمدات دو ہیں. وفود اور زر مبادلہ. درآمدات ہم گھٹا تے جارہے ہیں. ایک زمانہ میں تو خارجی پالیسی تک باہر سے درآمد کرتے تھے. اب یہاں بننے لگی ہے.

اردو کی آخری کتاب

Illustration and caption from The Age, August 18, 1988

Today is the death anniversary of General Zia ul Haq. While as Shahid Saeed points out, the obituary by Anatol Lieven should be on top of the Mard-e-Momin memory reading list, here are some excerpts from foreign press coverage of his death and funeral. You can also watch Ghulam Ishaq Khan announcing his death on national television here.

‘A ball of fire’

A Pakistani paper, The Moslem, reported that most witnesses had seen an explosion in the air like a ball of fire that fell to the ground. The only visible item that reportedly escaped the flames was a copy of the Moslem holy book, the Koran.

Pakistan Seeking Reason for Crash in which Zia died – New York Times

‘A final category’

A final category of people who did not like General Zia were citizens who felt he had wronged them, a category Mr. Kreisberg said included ”anyone whose family has suffered a loss they attribute to Zia or any of the other people on that plane.”

The Foes of Zia: So Many, So Bitter -  New York Times

Others stayed focused:

While joining Pakistan in mourning Zia’s death, the State Department stressed that it anticipated no slowdown in the flow of U.S. weapons to Afghan rebels through the South Asian country.

Mysterious Explosion arouses Suspicion – Associated Press News Analysis

In Islamabad…

Some clutched portraits of Zia and shouted, “We will mourn you forever!”

Tens of thousands gather for Zia’s funeral – Associated Press

The end.

As visitors left the funeral in a swirl of dust, heat and chaos, one large sign greeted them.

Strung across the road in front of the mosque, a sign read: ”Dear Zia. Our hearts mourn and shed tears on your sad demise. Afghan Mujahedeen.”

Zia Is Buried Before a Muted and Prayerful Throng – New York Times

And Zia ul Haq:

He was, in fact, a man of simple tastes. In accordance with his Moslem beliefs, he did not drink alcohol and his only indulgence appeared to be British cigarettes. His walls were covered with embroidered verses from the Koran.

”I really have been a reluctant ruler,” General Zia told reporters recently. ”Really, you can say that. But I am not a person to just give up in disgust and walk away. I am determined to stay here until I solve all of the many problems that continue to face our country.

”Only then,” he added, ”will I disappear and start playing as much golf as I wish I were playing right now.”

Mohammad Zia ul-Haq: Unbending Commander for Era of Atom and Islam – New York Times

The preface sets the tone of the book, which – at the time it was written – was meant to educate women in the ways of the world since their lack of knowledge of social context and rules and the world was a hurdle in marital relations and motherhood.

As a guide, the book is meant to educate women in religious and social matters. There is a long, long list of sins and ‘bad habits’, such as…

قبروں پر دھوم دھام سے میلہ کرنا. چراغ جلانا. عورتوں کا وہاں جانا. چادریں ڈالنا. پختہ قبر بنانا

I have been meaning to read Bahishti Zevar for several years now. I believe it was a tradition in my family to give copies of the book to brides-to-be, though I am not aware of when this ended. I haven’t heard of a copy being given in the past two decades.

The section on letter writing outlines how to write to and address family members – save for:

دیور اور جیٹھ سے جہاں تک ہوسکے خط و خطابت نہ رکھو. زیادہ میل جول نہ بڑھاؤ. اگر کبھی ایسی ضرورت آ پڑے تو خیر لکھ دو اور انکو جناب بھی صاحب کرکے لکھ دو.

I’ve resisted the urge to skip ahead and read the more interesting chapters so am going through it rather slowly. I’ll blog more excerpts later on, but here’s a couplet from a poem in the first chapter:

سب سے اچھا پاؤں کا زیور یہ ہے نور بصر
تم رہو ثابت قدم ہر وقت راہ نیک

In the section on letter-writing, there is an example of a letter written by a father to his daughter admonishing her for being ‘influenced’ to not study. (Apologies for the spelling of ba’azi, Google Transliterate didn’t understand the word). I thought this was an interesting point to highlight. The ‘father’s’ reasons – far too long to type out – include that education also boosts one’s social standing.

اس خط سے یہ بھی معلوم ہوا کہ تم کو لکھنے پڑھنے کا کچھ شوق نہیں ہے, اور اس میں بہت کم دل لگاتی ہو. یہ بھی سنا کہ بازی عورتیں تمھارے لکھنے پڑھنے پر یوں کہتی ہیں کہ لڑکیوں کو لکھنے پڑھانے سے کیا فائدہ. ان کو تو سینا پرونا، کھانا پکانا، چکن وغیرہ کاڑھنا سکھانا چاہئے. ان کو پڑھا لکھا کر کیا مردوں کی طرح مولوی بنانا ہے

معلوم ہوتا ہے کہ انہی لوگوں کہ بہکانے سے تمہارا دل اچاٹ ہوگیا. اور تم نے محنت ختم کردی. اے میری بیٹی! تم ان بیواقوف عورتوں کے کہنے پر ہرگز نہ جانا اور یہ سمجھو کہ مجھ سے بڑھ کر کوئی دوسرا تمہارا خیر خوا ہ نہیں ہو سکتا اس لئے میری یہ نصیحت یاد رکھو کہ ان عورتوں کا یہ کہنا بلکل بیوقوفی ہے. کم سے کم اتنا ہر عورت کے لئے ضروری ہے کہ اردو لکھ پڑھ لیا کرے. اس میں بڑے فائدے ہیں. اور لکھنا پڑھنا نہ جاننے میں بڑے بڑے نقصان ہیں.

In the ‘reply’, the ‘daughter’ writes that after receiving her father’s letter, she is now motivated to study. She explains that she has understood the importance of education, especially after witnessing the dilemma of a woman in the neighbourhood, who could not read a letter containing news of an ailing relative.

The daughter, taking on the theme of social standing, mentions how five women in the family are esteemed and recognised at women’s gatherings because they are able to advise and reprimand their peers by using their knowledge.

مغرب کے بعد بیچاری میرے پاس آئیں تو میں نے حال سنایا. تب ان کا جی ٹھکانے ہوا تب سے میرے جی کو یہ بات لگی کہ بیشک پڑھنے لکھنے کا ہنر بھی بڑی دولت ہے. اور اس کے نہ جاننے سے بعضے وقت بڑی مصیبت پڑتی ہے اور یہ بھی میں دیکھتی ہوں کہ ہماری برادری میں پانچ بیبیاں خوب پڑھی لکھی ہیں وہ جہاں جاتی ہیں ان کی بڑی عزت ہوتی ہے. جو بات خلاف شرع کسی سے ہوجاتی ہے یا بیاہ شادی میں کوئی بری رسم ہوتی ہے تو اس کو ٹوکتی ہیں. منا کرتی ہیں. خوب سمجھا کر نصیحت کرتی ہیں. اور سب بیبیاں چپکی ہوکر کان لگا کر سنتی ہیں. جو کوئی بات پوچھنا ہوتی ہے ان سے ہی پوچھتی ہیں. بیبیوں میں  سب سے پہلے وہی پوچھی جاتی ہیں. ساری بیبیاں ان کی تعریف کرتی رہتی ہیں.

The ‘shame’ of being ‘uneducated’, at least from the tone, is not just about knowing the basics, but also about how you use that education.

Would the modern-day version of Bahishti Zevar, today, be the interpretations being taught by the likes of Farhat Hashmi, Umme Hassan or city-based institutes such as Markaz Fahm-e-Deen? Has this tome been replaced by their teachings, and its ‘definitive’ status by how the former two are recognised in society? [There is a strong sense among the madaris that Umme Hassan and Maulana Abdul Aziz are now recognised as an institution onto themselves]

As a side note, artist Naiza Khan interpreted Bahishti Zevar in works of metal – such as a chastity belt – for an exhibit a few years ago. If any one knows of any other recent interpretations of the book, do let me know.

…but no one agrees.

Efforts of the Senate’s standing committee on religious affairs to observe Ramazan and Eid on same days throughout the country went futile on Friday when clerics from Peshawar’s Qasim Khan Mosque refused to accept the authority of the Ruet-i-Hilal Committee.

The entire account is fascinating, including a debate on whether the Met Office’s reports should be followed and science and Sharia

Maulana Bashir Ahmed Kakakhel, a member of the Ruet-i-Hilal Committee, said he had learned about procedures for fixing Ramazan and Eid days in various countries, including Saudi Arabia and Malaysia.

“Reports of Met offices are taken seriously in most Muslim countries and we should not ignore this practice in Pakistan,” he said, adding that there were also many false evidences and that too during the time when moon had not even originated as per the Met Office report. Maulana Kakakhel`s remarks led to a brawl between the two groups of ulema and Mufti Popalzai asked: “If you have to choose between science and Sharia what will you believe?” He said science was evolving, but Sharia laws would be there till the day of judgement.

The Minister for Religious Affairs Khursheed Shah chimed in with what has to be the quote of the day:

If a committee is sent to the moon even then many ulema will say that the moon is not visible

Here’s a post from 2009 on the moon sighting debacle.

Rabwah. June 2011

I meant to write a long blog post on Rabwah, but I came back from a frantic five-cities-in-seven-days (Sahiwal, Gujranwala, Sialkot, Gojra and Rabwah) reporting trip to the battleground that Karachi turns into overnight. I also seem to have lost the ability to blog – courtesy a job that requires me to write on a daily basis – so I have these fragmented thoughts running through my head that will one day materialise here.

From Rabwah:

Ahmadis have found their own solutions in Rabwah

In Rabwah, every house has a story to tell

From Gojra and Rabwah: Despite quota, minorities beg for work

Photos on Flickr

But the fly-by-night pamphleteers and court transcript anthologies found themselves up against a tide of cheap penny newspapers in Britain in the 1820s. What these papers needed was a new class of writers to straddle the simplistic crime narratives of old with the often confusing and undigested testimony of court records. What was needed, in short, was modern crime reporting. Competition became intense, as when the editor of a Saturday newspaper stumbled one Thursday night upon a fresh suicide dangling from a tree; he was so mortified that a Friday paper would scoop him that he cut down the victim and hid him overnight in his own cellar, reasoning that he could then “find” him the following night in time for the Saturday edition. The plan went awry when a servant found the strangled body; the arrested editor only escaped a capital charge of murder when a suicide note was rather fortuitously discovered in the deceased’s coat.

In London, two morning papers—the Morning Herald and the Morning Chronicle—became particular rivals in court reportage. The Herald can lay claim to one innovation that survives to this day: the “funny criminal” report. Its 1824 compilation volume by reporter John Wight, Mornings at Bow Street, includes such immortal cases as a man discovered “frightening ladies out of their wits” by walking through St. James’s Park “with his breeches on a stick over his shoulder, instead of in their natural and proper place.” When a kindly judge asked him, “Why do you walk without your breeches, my honest friend?” the old man patiently explained: “Because I was hot.”

 

Pastor William points out the minarets from the balcony of his church, which was burned down in the riots in Gojra. They belong to the mosques that issued calls for residents to attack the Christian Colony.

There is a new mosque being built on the way to Gojra. Its minarets tower into the sky.

On the roof of the pastor’s house, I photograph the landscape. All I can see are minarets and burned down houses. His daughter asks me to take her picture. In the background are the crosses her family salvaged after the fire. One of them was desecrated.

In Christian Colony, I ask to see the houses that were burned down. A resident volunteers to be my guide, offering up a running commentary of the background of each house. He describes how each house was attacked, who lived there, where they hid. I hear about how their belongings were dragged out on to the street and set ablaze.

One burned house is a symbol of how minorities have been systematically persecuted in Pakistan. It belonged to the family of Sajid and Rashid Emmanuel, who were killed in Faisalabad after being accused of blasphemy.

There is resentment and sorrow. There is acceptance; that this is the state of minorities in Pakistan.

I hear accounts of Shahbaz Bhatti, the Federal Minister for Minorities Affairs who was assassinated in Islamabad in March. I hear about his funeral from residents of Khushpur, his village.

“There wasn’t a dry eye at the funeral.”

I hear about the positions he took on issues that the community felt strongly about.

I hear about their grief and shock.

With Bhatti gone, there is no hope.

There is a terrible sense of foreboding captured in the pages of my notebook. At 2 AM, I awake with a start in Gojra, imagining that there is a mob attacking my room. I peer outside. There isn’t anyone. Yet.

In the morning, two residents talk about a suspect being caught in Bhatti’s assassination case. I refresh Tribune’s website – having recalled the headline – and read out the story. The suspect has been let go for lack of evidence.

They look thoughtful and say nothing.

We go to the Catholic Church’s Sunday service. I am welcomed and introduced.

There is a prayer for Saleem Shahzad and for journalists working in Pakistan.

As I leave Gojra, I look at the minarets looming into the sky. I think of the burned houses and the piles of cash being handed out to witnesses. I wonder, for the millionth time, about what the landscape means.

My story for The Express Tribune: A compromise of life over death in Gojra