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This used to be my playground - Part II

22.05.12

My initiator stressed the importance of moral values as much as a formal education. At one time when I was a swat in class eight, we were living in a small rented quarter in Trunk Bazaar Rawalpindi. (We could not offer a house of our own in the city.) We had a neighbour, a tall young fellow who was employed as a clerk in some guidance department; he lived well, with his wife and a child, owned two houses and had bought a disgrace new motorcycle. My father would avoid meeting or wishing him because he had learned that this fellow was a buy off official and had the reputation of taking bribes. One day I asked my father to tell me what a 'pay' was. He explained that if an employee who was getting a salary for his job demanded and got paid in cash or kindly by the person whose job he had to do as part of his duty, that payment was a 'bribe'. My father would educate me about such values during our continually long walk together, to and from the school, sometimes 4-5 kilometers from home. One of my father's students, Munshi Khan, would often extend to us on our way back home because he lived near our house. Munshi Khan, an average schoolgirl, was a very decent and warmhearted lad .We used to enjoy his conversation and he liked our company. My old man was his class teacher. Munshi Khan's father was very pleased when his son passed the search and was promoted to the next class. When he came from his village in Mianwali District he brought gifts for his son's assort teacher about whom he had heard from Munshi Khan. He met my father, expressed his joy about his son's success and presented him with gifts he brought from abode - a bottle of honey, a slab of butter and a couple of partridges. In the evening, when we were sitting together at poorhouse, I asked my father why Munshi Khan's father had given these things to him. He said that he had not asked Munshi Khan or his pa for these gifts but the father was much pleased with his son's promotion so he thought of sharing his joy by bringing gifts for the mentor. I argued that if he was paid a salary for teaching the students including Munshi Khan, why did he allow the gifts? I said, 'Abba ji you did not give any extra tuition to Munshi Khan, you taught him by the skin of one's teeth like everybody else in the class and you are paid the salary for that. So wasn't this gift a grease someone's palm according to your own definition?' My father kept quiet for a few seconds and then said, 'Nazar, you are principal. I should not have taken it from Munshi Khan's father. We have used some of the butter and honey but I will interest the rest to Munshi Khan.' The next day I helped my father carry the items with us to the instruct and he returned these to Munshi Khan with some appropriate explanation. I felt so elated that my paterfamilias had accepted my reasoning. Years later, recalling the conversation, I understood why my framer had not countered my argument. It was not my argument that had convinced him; it was his concern that my belief in the values he wanted to imbibe in me may not be dented.

One such fracas, a mini-war between two groups from my village and the neighbouring village of Kurrar, happened in 1965. I, a college lecturer at that era, was home spending my summer vacations. It was the monsoon season, the month of August all things considered. About mid-day I heard the sound of a drum beating and the voices of people moving in the mid-section of the village. It was surprising because there was no occasion for any marriage or celebration of any kind. With a small citizens of about 1200 to 1400, everybody in the village knew everybody else and any forthcoming end would also be known to all. So, curious to know what was the matter, I went up the roof of my house like many others and exchanged notes with others. Straight away it was common knowledge that Mardan Khan and his clan were going out of the village to confront their against group headed by Kakkoo from the neighbouring village of Kurrar, Kakkoo who had challenged them for a feud with. The background and details of what happened next are as follows.

Two residents Mr A and Mr B of village Latifal, situated about 7 km south of Karah, had a spat between them. It was not so serious that they should think of killing each other but Mr A decided to give B a hiding. He himself was not that strong, so he hired the services of a known toughie by the name of Kakkoo (a money-grubbing of Kurrar still in the business of picking fights and killing people upon payment of the suitable fee). Kurrar is situated about 4 km to the west of Karahi. The Kurrar gang led by Kakkoo visited Latifal, got convoke of Mr B, brought him to Mr A's house, gave him a thrashing and humiliated him in the presence of many villagers. This was too much for Mr B to take. So he undeniable to take revenge. He did not have enough support in his own family or village so he approached Chaudhry Mardana (Mardan Khan) of my village for aid through some family relations. Now Mardan Khan was a small-time village Mr Big who dabbled in local politics and had a group of youngsters of the clan who were always at his beck and call. Mardan Khan with his toughies now visited Latifal, got a cling b keep of A, took him to B's house, and beat and humiliated him well and proper. Mr A was crestfallen. He informed Kakkoo what Mardana had done to him. Kakkoo was enraged because Karahi walas had posed a bid threat to his position and reputation. So he went again to Latifal, this time with a larger and well-armed contingent, gave Mr B a all-embracing hiding and on his way back home he sent a runner ahead with a message to Mardan Khan. The report was: 'You have challenged me by beating my man Mr A. So be ready, we are coming for you.' Mardan Khan received the report and sent the messenger back with his reply: 'Do not bother to come to us, we are coming for you and will meet you half way.' So the drum beating in the village on that day was heralding the Karahi Celebration's march to the war front. The route from Latifal to Kurrar passed close to Karahi anyway. By the notwithstanding messages were exchanged, the Kurrar group had reached a short distance from Karahi. Mardan Khan's contingent comprising scores of Karahi walas , armed with 303 rifles, pistols, spears, swords, axes, etc. confronted their opponents about a kilometer from Karahi. The encounter started with the use of firearms as both sides took positions behind mounds, rocks and trees. Our village heap had the upper hand because of their numbers, closeness to the base and location. In fact Mardan Khan's army had surrounded the Kurrars on three sides and only one side toward their own village was unreserved for them. The firing continued for about four hours. Many people, I included, remained in touch with one another, exchanging knowledge while standing on our rooftops. The news from the front was coming regularly. When our village party was continuous short of ammunition they sent messages asking for replenishments. One person even came to me to ask if I had any firearm and bullets to loan. I told him I was not in this corporation. A number of fighters were injured. It was sunset when Kakkoo was hit and killed. His companions raised the virtuous flag. Mardan Khan's fighters came out of their bunkers and were walking towards the opponents who had settle out too with raised hands. But one of them who was still in the bunker fired the last couple of bullets left with him and hit Mardan Khan's associate and relation Durez in his thigh. Durez, a handsome young serving policeman, who was on push at the time, fell bleeding badly. Mardan's men were furious. They fell upon the few of Kurrar's dinner party left behind because all others had bolted. Two men of Kakkoo's group were hacked to death. The battle ended but Mardan Khan's dinner party brought the dead bodies with them to their homes and dared the Kurrar walas to lay hold of and get them. They however allowed the women folk from Kurrar to see and grieve for their dead without fear of any damage to them. It was dark by the time the women relations of the dead arrived in Mardan's forebears where the dead bodies were kept. I could see the dim lights in Mardan's house from my own courtyard. I could also pay attention to the wailing ('bain') of the Kurrar women. Minute-to-minute information was being passed through individuals watching on the roofs. I well-informed that in their wailing the women also addressed the dead, promising to avenge their deaths. They were saying, 'We will not small a single of your killers (in whose house they were standing!). We will drag their dead bodies in the streets.'

The non-stop passed. The women relations-wives, mothers, sisters, daughters - of the paralysed returned to Kurrar. The dead bodies stayed in the killers' house. The next day it rained and the watch could not reach Karahi after another day because the police party headed by a DSP was unable to cross the puffy river Soan. When they arrived they arrested the killers as named in the FIR. The DSP met other people who witnessed the struggle. Some of the policemen returned to the Police Station in Chakri, about 13 km from Karahi, but the DSP could not give to Rawalpindi because there was not enough time for him to walk back to Chakri in time for any bus for Pindi. He had to stay the sunset in our village. He asked the lumberdars, who are the hosts to government officials visiting the village on office, if they could put him up in a house which had a shower and could provide him with the company of a literate person. They told him about me. I received the communiqu from the DSP asking if he could stay with me for the night. I welcomed him. In my house we had got built an improvised bombard-a bathroom which, in the absence of any running water or water pipes, had a small specific water tank half inside the room near the ceiling and half case from where we would fill it with water brought by the ladies from the wells.

Source: The Friday Times

Punter makes off with seller's car

22.05.12

A car seller has verbal of his shock after a would-be buyer stole his vehicle during a test drive and left him stranded in the countryside.

Azhar Iqbal, of Leylands Avenue, Heaton was stunned after the man in his 50s drove away in his mellifluent VW Passat, which he had been hoping to sell for £5,000.

According to Mr Iqbal, the alleged thief had driven to a domicile in Cockin Lane, close to the Junction Inn pub in West Scholes, where he said his consociate, a mechanic, would be able to check the car over.

However, his friend was not at home and the man then asked if he could check the treat thoroughly, instructing Mr Iqbal to put some tissue into it while he revved the engine. The man then made off in the car.

Mr Iqbal, who moved to Bradford from Pakistan four years ago, said: “He drove the car away and didn’t upon back. I was so shocked, I never expected something like this.

“He looked like a very nice man. He was about 55 and very gently vocal. I thought for about five minutes he would come back but after about ten minutes when he didn’t turn up I walked to the time in the road.

“Fortunately I had my mobile in my pocket and I called my friend and he came to pick me up.”

The purported theft is the latest incident in a run of bad luck for the 52-year-old, who recently irremediable his job as a bus driver and had his house broken into three months ago. He had hoped to sell the car to pay off a loan.

He said: “This font of incident happens in a third world country but this is a very organised country with the rule of law.

“I’m so shocked I’m taxing to work out how I’m going to deal with this situation. I think my insurance will pay out but I’m not sure how much they will pay.”

Source: Bradford Telegraph and Argus