Desicritics Author: Zainub Razvi

A Cat Story

Zainub Razvi — Sun, 11 May 2008 14:27:19 EDT

I have to admit that I wasn't always a pet lover. But ever since my youngest sister Saadia nurtured a young kitten which she, in my opinion, somewhat inappropriately called 'Pinky', I have steadily begun to shift to the other camp.

Pinky and I had something of a bond. In those ghastly days when I was enrolled in a dentistry program on my mother’s insistence, she used to sit in my lap in the mornings as I waited to catch the bus. I enjoyed her company; it was a nice distraction from thinking about the horrible day that awaited me at college. And then when I returned in the afternoons, she was again the first to greet me, wrapping around me as I walked in tired.

Some times I would be very annoyed by her unasked for affection, and would barely miss trampling on her in my preoccupation. But she was so persistent that she kept trying and inevitably, I fell in love with her too. She was (and still is) far too cute for anyone to not fall in love with, unless of course you're allergic to cats, which my mom and my other younger sister think they are. (I say think here because none of them have ever had a medical test to prove their claims, instead just sighting their overbearing fear of cats as an indication of their allergy, something I refuse to buy into.)

Ever since, my self, Saadia and my dad, the three people in our household that were in the opposite camp, pampered Pinky and others cats as much as we could. In addition to Pinky, Tommy and a host of other neighborhood cats had all came and almost permanently settled in our house.

All three of us, meaning my self, my dad and of course my sister, took care of them. I would secretly give them milk in the afternoons because I knew my mother would be furious if she found out. My dad on the other hand had no one to fear so he actually bought the cats custom made fat from the butchers every time he went to them to get supplies for the house. Saadia too, increasingly grew indifferent to my mother’s advice to “stay away from the cats”. She’d collect bones at every meal’s conclusion and ceremoniously call the cats and feed them. She didn’t stop here, occasionally even investing her pocket money on giving the cats treats by buying them expensive cat food.

In this way, the three of us all pampered and spoiled the cats in our own distinctive ways, but because Saadia took the initiative, they were always “officially” her cats and she’d take great pride in introducing them as such whenever curious young guests arrived.

When I moved over to my in-laws place this January I had never imagined that I'd miss these cats so much. I knew I was going to miss them a little bit, but this much, I didn't think it was possible. After all, I had a memories that I was leaving behind, in comparison with those I thought I’d barely remember the cats.

I told my self I could find new cats, every Karachi neighborhood has stray cats and I could pet one of them just like Saadia did. If not that, I could in the least strike out an adoption deal with Saadia whenever Pinky gives birth to her first liter (ever since we figured out Pinky had all grown up and was looking for a mate, we had been spying on every Tom cat in the neighborhood like anxious parents keeping a look out on children’s girl or boyfriends!)

But all this planning was dealt a blow when I discovered that my mother in law (like my mom) wasn’t too fond of having pets. I thought I’d get over it, but I ended up missing the pet element in my life a fair bit.

And I realized just how much I missed them every time I came back to my parent's place to visit. On my last visit a couple of week ago I finally got to see the three adorable kittens Pinky recently gave birth to. Saadia has somehow shed her tendency to name her pets absurdly and this time has called them Teddy, Daisy and Lilly.

They all resemble little tufts of black and white wool, running precariously around us and their mother. I was quite surprised to see that I was reacting in much the same manner as I would in the event of a human being giving birth, asking the same traditional questions (Does the baby look more like the mother or the father? Is the baby healthy or does he or she look weak?) but nevertheless feeling slightly jealous that my sister knew the answers and I could only guess.

Even Saadia hasn’t figured out the exact identity of the father though. She claims she has narrowed down the possibilities to one of two neighborhood Tom cats going by the fur colour of the new-borns but I’m not too sure of her calculations. What I am sure of though is that I want the cat element back in my life. Seeing my sister go on and on about her adorable cats, now up to a glorious five in total, including Pinky, her kittens Teddy, Daisy and Lilly and Tommy the second (the first once, may his soul rest in peace, died of unknown causes last summer), has made me sure that I cannot afford to lag behind in the race.

And as luck would have it, only the other day my husband and I discovered this feeble little creature in our back yard, completely out of the blue. For one whole day she did nothing but laze around in our yard, crying around as if she was in pain. Every time we try and went close to her though, she’d threaten, screeching and giving a complete picture of all her teeth, not even changing her attitude after she was given milk and fresh raw chicken meat to devour. We guessed as much that she had a semi-injured leg which reduced her mobility and that she was hungry, but we’re still trying to figure out why she’s so unfriendly. I understand she might have felt vulnerable at first, but surely if some one’s giving you food, drink and genuinely trying to be nice, this ought to be enough to remove any initial doubts. I couldn’t get my self to understand what this cat was thinking about.

Then I suddenly realized I was making a crucial presumption. All the cats I had encountered closely until now were those already tamed by my sister, and were hence quite comfortable around humans. This was a stray cat I was dealing with, who probably doesn’t like humans a lot to begin with. It was here that I realized that if I was to convert this cat, I’d have to make all the hard yards that my sister probably did in the first place. I had to convince this little fellow to allow me to be “frands” with her and only then I can teach her all the other pet stuff (beginning with some manners, like you don’t poo straight in front of the backyard’s door so that the entire back portion of the house starts smelling yucky!).

Another big and pleasant discovery I’ve made in this entire cat story is that my mom-in-law isn’t entirely averse to cats; in fact she told me the other day a stray cat’s four generations gave birth to their litters in her old home in Sharjah. She’s only uncomfortable with the idea of them strolling around freely inside the house. That’s something that can be perfectly worked inside with, I thought to my self.

Now all I need to do is win this cat over with the help of my more experienced sister’s cat parenting tips, teach her how to poo nicely and always stay out of the house, and viola, I’ll have a full fledge pet! Isn’t this totally wonderful?

PS: I also have to think of a name for it, suggestions most welcome. I don’t have a picture of her with me right now, but as a guide, she’s not as cute as Pinky, although they’re both the same colour. My cat has slightly more grey spots then Pinky and much bigger whiskers, which is why I’m thinking of calling it Whisky, but I know that sounds terrible, so better suggestions are most, most welcome.

Karachi Diary: Life Moves On After Deadly Friday Blasts

Zainub Razvi — Sun, 21 Oct 2007 00:16:05 EDT

I first saw this Cricinfo photo over at Pakistaniat. It gives one a view of the large swarm of police deployed at the 2nd one-day international between Pakistan and South Africa, which Pakistan won by 25 runs.

This photo reminded me of how in the past I've been critical of foreign teams canceling, postponing and making an almighty fuss about "security" when touring Pakistan.

South Africa in particular got a lot of stick from me during their last tour to Pakistan, in which they finally decided, after much debate, that Karachi was not safe enough for their team to play in. I'm afraid I hadn't begun blogging back than so I can't provide you with links, but I do recall my frustrations back in 2003.

A blast had occurred in an empty building on Shahrah-e-Faisal barely days before South Africa's scheduled arrival to Pakistan, the entire tour was subsequently in jeopardy, but when they discovered that the blasts were a product of a personal dispute between the owners of the property, and not an act of terrorism, at least the tour was saved. But Karachi nevertheless missed out.

I was upset on various counts, but firstly as a cricket fan, because I was deprived of seeing one of the better teams in world cricket battle it out against Pakistan in my home city against my favorite team. I hadn't ever had the chance to visit a live international cricket match until this point, and I was very eagerly anticipating their arrival. But I was upset also, secondarily, because of the stereotypical images painted of Karachi at the time by some foreign journalists and even South African players in their analysis of the issue.

The South African skipper Graeme Smith, for instance, I recall related in one of his columns in a leading South African daily, how some of his friends told him that Karachi was so unsafe people never go to cinemas in Karachi. It is not that I didn't recognize that violence was a real threat for my city. I did back then, and I still do. There is no point in living in denial of course. But my gripe was that some of these concerns were being needlessly exaggerated.

I also felt that Karachi was being singled out. Karachi isn't any more or less safe then any of the other cities in South Africa's itinerary, back then, and even today. Terrorism was a global threat, I argued, and the world at large, not just Pakistan, because of this threat was a more dangerous place. But if we all decide to isolate our selves in the safe havens of our homes, it is not only going to give more encouragement to those who're behind all of this? Perhaps I because I was young, I was also naive, but the answer sure seemed very conspicuous to me back then. And it frustrated me that South Africa didn't seem to agree.

Especially because this was South Africa of all countries making these complains. The same South Africa where in on one particular Pakistan tour a few years back, night time mugging had resulted in two Pakistani players being hurt. Several of the Pakistani players then wanted to return, but reassurances from Cricket South Africa meant we only returned after completing the tour as per scheduled. In this backdrop, I found the nature of some of these apprehensions about Karachi's safety rather painfully ironic.

Their decision, thirdly, also upset me because it made realise my own worthlessness in the eye's of the powers to be. We, the citizens of this city, I thought, we live here every day, and over time, we learn to cope with these threats. We don't fuss about them, we only mutely complain and we try and always get on with our lives. And this is despite the fact that the taxes we pay sponsor much of the high profile security arrangements in place for such VIPs.

I felt peeved. Why do I never get such out-of-the ordinary protection? These high-end bullet proof adorned personalities, they always seem to get away unharmed whenever there's any such tragic incident, it is always we, the ordinary folk of this city, that are at greatest risk and that have to pay the sacrifice. Yet despite that, no lessons are ever learned; our resilience and character are taken for granted and we're left to fend of for ourselves with the least protection of all.

We're ordinary people after all, why should we deserve anything special? Our lives and property are a thing few in the hierarchy are concerned with protecting, we're frequently terrorized, robbed, killed and looted, and yet, when we complain, rarely is full justice brought. But then you have these people coming in from foreign countries, cricketers and ex-prime ministers with corruption cases, for all but a few weeks or days, and they get the highest, most "fool proof" security arrangements possible (and that too, of course, sponsored either directly or indirectly from our tax money).

All these very valid frustrations for me back then. I expected some of these VIPs people to show a bit of courage and get on with it, like the ordinary people of this country do. I still harbor many if not all of these frustrations, but my expectations of these VIPs have changed. Over these past three days, as I've been forced to just stick around home and all day hear about nothing Karachi's worsening law and order situation, I can begin to understand the real extent of the fear a foreigner may feel before coming here.

This afternoon, twice I heard a helicopter hovering overhead our neighborhood (I live about five minutes off Bilawal House) and each time I heard those propellers forcing their way against the wind, for a moment my heart would be in my mouth. What happened now I would wonder, just another routine security check perhaps. Hopefully not another blast. I'd go tune in to the TV again, and if any breaking news didn't turn up over the next five minutes, I'd get my breath back again.

Thankfully, despite the sporadic instances of firing, stone throwing and tire burning in various parts of the city, things have remained by and large peaceful. But as many of the dead from the October 18th's blasts are being laid to rest, the sense of fear and insecurity that has gripped this city is undeniable. Private news channels here keep showing scenes of deserted intersections, closed down gas stations and memorial adverts with dramatic dirges playing in the background. There has been precious little else to watch on TV, and had it not been for the cricket, I might seriously have acquired something of a mild depression.

There is, after all, only that much of sadness you can keep seeing without being overwhelmed at some point or the other. Especially when the Pakistani media have seemingly decided to compromise every possible journalistic ethic in the favor of sensationalist reporting. What the point was behind showing corpses of unidentified dead being stored in Edhi cold storage, and worst still, the badly mutilated head of the alleged suicide bomber him self, I will not know. Had my remote not been in close vicinity each time, I may not have stopped my self from puking. I'm shocked beyond belief that producers could allow such footage to keep on running all day long, and that too without any warnings for viewer discretion.

Back in the city it self, life continues to remain on a virtual stand still, and often not by choice. One commentator at the Karachi Metroblog shared a story about how some 400 "workers" forced shops and business (including a Pizza Hut outlet) at Zamzama Commercial Boulevard to close down. My mom too was telling me how one of her tailors told her over phone that shops in Clifton's Gulf-Way Shopping Mall were being forced to close down.

Clifton and Defense are two of the most so-called 'posh' areas of this city, and if this was the situation here, one can logically expect it to much more tense else where. Who may the "workers" behind such forceful closures are is not terribly hard to guess. The PPP have announced a three day morning after the blasts, and while the intention behind this may not be a bad one, both its application and its implication are not.

For a party that talks so much about the "awaam" (people) and it hopes and aspirations, it show know how such a sustained halt to the city's day-to-day activities will hurt this very "awaam". It effects the economy (I was told Karachi loses about 1 billion rupees in revenue for every such day), the education system (schools and colleges were closed on Thursday as well and Friday, and numerous exams to be held on these dates were postponed on future dates) and most crucially, the livelihood and very existence of the city's poorest, most underprivileged class, some of whom survive on daily wages as meager as $2.5.

A year ago when I wrote about futility of such periods of "mourning" and "strikes" I asked if any of our so-called leaders actually care for these ordinary Pakistanis on behalf of which they speak so confidently. I still have the same questions, and I still have no answers. In the light of all this, I wasn't expecting South Africa to continue its tour, let alone also confirm that the Karachi ODI a few weeks from now will happen as per schedule.

Perhaps I really was being naive four years ago, perhaps South Africa do have more courage then I was prepared to give them credit for. For the first time in a long while, I felt scared in my own city, and my solace came from the most unlikely of sources: this decision by the South African team and its cricket authorities. They courage they have shown has some how conducted into me as well. I wasn't expecting this by any means but its a pleasant surprise, and an important reminder, that whatever happens, life must continue to move on. To quote Robert Frost,

In three words I can sum up everything I have learned about life: it goes on.

It sounds almost cruel, the fact that we can in due course, fairly readily, let ghastly days like Friday, pass down on our memory lanes and move on to what lies ahead, but as harsh as this may seem at first, this is also what allows us to overcome such tragedies and come out stronger from them. I don't expect that security measures for the final ODI when SA come here will be anything less then what we've seen in this past week, it may be more if anything. But for once I wont be complaining. But I will most certainly be praying. May God keep us all safe and sound.

Modern Pakistan & Musharraf's Liberalism

Zainub Razvi — Thu, 18 Oct 2007 14:16:13 EDT

There is much interest in Pakistan's political and cultural dynamic these days. Hardly a week passes by when you don't come across some article or the other in the international press highlighting and celebrating Pakistan's apparently newfound inclination for modernism, or 'enlightened moderation', to use Musharraf's now worn out neologism.

Such writers all cite a particular set of trends as proof to substantiate their claims. The growth of the press, and the image of Pakistan it presents (with private channels like Fashion TV and MTV Pakistan now on the airwaves) is one oft cited example. The progress with India in the peace process, and the people-to-people contact this progress has embodied in the form of merry singing along between music artists and joint film ventures between celebrities from both sides of the Wagah Border, is another favorite "proof" they use.

Many of them admit that a "radical", "conservative" sect of religiously-inspired populous exists at the same time at the other end of the spectrum, but the underlying implication some how from all the above is that Musharraf, and him alone, may be the savior for Pakistan's polarized ideologies. Some of these assertions couldn't be further from ground realities.

One such article that I read recently was written by a certain Shuja Nawaz. The publication described her in a short bio as "a journalist who recently returned to Pakistan after working for 32 years at the International Monetary Fund and the International Atomic Energy Agency, to complete "Crossed Swords," a book on Pakistan and its army". In the article titled "Behind the Clichés, a Modern Pakistan" (published first in International Herald Tribune, later reproduced at The Pakistan Link, link via Raza Rumi) she does admit how, "For a returning native, Pakistan offers a kaleidoscope of images that defy the West's stereotypes" but goes on to create an image of Pakistan laden with its own set of mythical characteristics.

Consider, for instance, the assertions she has made about the needs of the country's urban elite, who she stipulates, are "craving" for leadership in figures like Musharraf. Me and my family have lived in Karachi for the better part of three decades, and we're grateful to the Almighty that we can consider our self part of the "urban" and "educated" elite Ms. Nawaz writes on behalf of. But I cannot, not even for a moment, identify with the leaders she suggests we are craving for. Yes, we do aspire for a "moderate, peace-loving Pakistan", but that we see Musharraf as the only person capable of giving us this dream would at best be a gross misrepresentation, and at worst, an insult to our intelligence.

Leaving aside the views of my parents and their parents, if I speak purely from the perspective of the youth of this country, people like me, who have no memories of the Zia era, who grew up watching the merry go round of democratically elected leaders in Nawaz Sharif and Benazir Bhutto, and then entered our teenage years as the Musharraf regime took over. The misdemeanors of these successive governments, their repeated moves towards sham democracy and a consistent trend of power-hungriness has left quite of few of us as largely politically indifferent. There is a vacuum in terms of potential leaders, and the only flag bearers of society that provide us with any semblance of inspiration are people well outside the circus of Pakistani politics such as the dignified members of the civil society, people like the Edhi family.

There is no denying that there was and perhaps still exists in my generation approval for some of Musharraf's policies. Many people I know, from my age group, will admit they enjoy having a greater choice in watching Television then just having to suffice with PTV, they'll also appreciate how the improving economy and greater foreign investment, has again given them more choices, in terms of consumer goods to explore into. And they will even be people who'll appreciate and credit Musharraf with liberalizing Pakistan urban society at large, making it less of a taboo for young people to "date", for young people to dress in non-reformist ways and for having a liberty to bash "mullahs" openly that would be unheard of previous times.

But they will also admit how the benefits of a growing economy haven't reached their less privileged fellow countrymen, how corruption is still rampant, how the civic facilities for even the elites are still inefficient, how the environment is the last thing on the government's mind, how they've oppressed free speech and how law-and-order is still a thing largely unheard of. Even the list of their complains would be quite long. Such selective and well guarded approval for some of Musharraf's policies hence should not be confused with outright support, or as the writer described it "crave for leadership".

There is much damage that Musharraf and his close allies in the government have ensued upon their own selves in recent times. Many people who would have formerly praised Musharraf for some of the reforms he brought, will now express reservations about his sincerity towards Pakistan and the cause of her prosperity. Much of this has happened in time period as short as the last six months, during which Musharraf has indulged in a series of moves which have done nothing but directly benefit his own existence in power. From dismissing the Chief Justice, to having Nawaz Sharif deported, there is much Musharraf has done that has alienated some of his past admirers. And his recent u-turn around over letting the crocks of the past back in, something that he vehemently opposed for much of the last eight years of his reign, may well turn out to be the a final knock out blow.

Even on the socio-cultural front, the so called "liberal" people such articles frequently refer to, remain in the distinct minority even in the urban areas, let alone going into the country's 160 million population at large. And then there is the additional question of their pseudo-liberalism that needs to be addressed. These lot, as Qandeel Shaam described them over at Pakistaniat, are primarily concerned with "being liberal without embracing liberalism: for example, aunties who mull for hours when deciding just how deep they should let their plunging necklines plunge before it starts to look too inappropriate for a charity fundraising event to help emancipate the poor. The same aunties are also dedicated to ensuring that the only ‘liberty’ their maids ever see is a market in Lahore."

In fact Shaam describes the landscape of Pakistan's identity crisis much more accurately then does Ms. Nawaz. It is too simplistic to suggest that Pakistan is merely split between hard line religious conservatives and left-wing liberals. But this divide is actually three fold, as Shaam narrates, it lies between the "Western-wannabe’s" , "the religious extremist-wannabe’s" and whatever lies between them. The former two's ideologies refuse to adopt completely, either all the scruples of classical liberalism or traditional Islam, instead conveniently using only some of their principles as and when they need to prove their own point. I have encountered many of them right in the blogosphere itself and the travesty is that more of either types continue to glaze in the mainstream Pakistani media.

Pakistan's hopes (or at least my own) lie in what remains between these two; "an extant grey zone" Shaam calls it, that is "either too small or too muted to buffer these two extremes". I'd like to remain hopeful that these middle ground holders aren't actually few, but that instead, the problem is that they're so disheartenned in the systems of Pakistan society that they've sidelined themselves into aloofness. This isn't as much a hope for an inspiring leader, as it is a hope for an inspiring people's movement. For I've realised that leaders are like eagles. They don't flock, but instead you find them one at a time.

Sadly, such is Pakistan's luck that in a population of 160 million, presently there's not even one person that inspires complete confidence. That is why the only hopes I have are those from the silent majority. Pakistan will change the day enough of them wake up and decide to take their country's destiny in their own hands.

Thoughts On Inzamam ul Haq's Retirement From Test Cricket

Zainub Razvi — Sun, 14 Oct 2007 00:12:56 EDT

I haven't had a chance to write anything on the cricket lately, but I watched most of the last day's play from Lahore where the 2nd test between South Afria and Pakistan concluded two days ago, and belatedly, I have some thoughts to share.

The eventual result of the match (a commendably earned draw which handed SA a 1-0 series win) didn't quite go in Pakistan's favor completely, but the richly deserved tributes handed out to Inzamam at the end of the match in some way helped one momentarily forget Pakistan's shortcomings in this series, and celebrate one man and his enormous contribution to Pakistan cricket.

There are a few people who might argue that selecting an out-of-form batsman for a series-deciding test to allow him one last hurrah at the international level was keeping the interests of the individual ahead of the team's. But that would be an extremely selfish argument. Pakistan cricket has a history of mistreating its greats, leaving them in the lurch at the fag ends of their careers.

From Saeed Anwer to Wasim Akram to Waqar Younus, you'd think that between these four players who pretty much formed the pillars of Pakistan cricket in the last two decades, at least one of them would have been given the chance to have a graceful exit from the world stage.

But no, always it came down to being dropped after a poor World Cup and then, a sobering, emotional retirement-announcing-press conference a few months later. Then they'd be gone. The warm exit Inzi received today is thus a welcome, refreshing change that should be appreciated and encouraged rather than condemned.

When you have given 120 tests and over 8,000 runs to your country, you deserve at least one final honorable test in return. Few people disagree on Inzamam's stature as one of the best, if not the best outright, batsman to have originated from Pakistan. He finished two runs behind Jawed Miandad as Pakistan's 2nd highest test run getter of all time. With Mohammad Yousuf perhaps at the twilight of his own career right now and several years of cricket still left in him, it may not be unlikely that the two national test records that Inzi does hold now (most test centuries and most centuries in a winning cause) may be taken away from him, too.

As with all true legends of the game, you can't gauge the impact they have had by looking at records and statistics. Numbers give you an arbitrary view of things. They tell you that Inzi never scored a 100 against South Africa and that he only averages about 31 against Australia, frequently two of the best bowling attacks throughout Inzi's 15-year career. But unless you look closely, they don't tell you how he also scored an absolutely glorious 92 not out earlier this year at Port Elizabeth, which Osman Samiuddin described as 'the best hundred that Inzi never got'. They don't tell you about about a cool 58 not out while batting with No. 11 Mushtaq Ahmed against Australia in 1994 in a classic test in Karachi.

They tell you how he has been run out more than most of the other players of his era, but they don't tell you how these very run outs carved the sporting character that we associate with him, a character whose lazy-greatness meant he scored enough boundaries to almost consider running unneccessary. No one, in my opinion, describes the nature of Inzi's running better then his 1992 World Cup winning team mate Rameez Raja: 'It's not that he doesn't know how to run, it's just that he doesn't want to run,' he frequently says while commentating on television. Implying, in effect, that when he really wants to run, he isn't exactly a slouch.

That's why you have to look much deeper beyond just numbers to gauge Inzi's contribution to Pakistan and indeed world cricket. And that's why his place in the annals of cricket history is immortal, it can't be overtaken by the breaking of any records, by the emergence of any other players, or by anything at all. They'll never be another Inzi and we'll always remember the one that graced world cricket for all these years.

For all the tragedo-comic run outs, the match-winning centuries, the mouth-opening sixes against hapless spinners, the modest presentation ceremony quotes, the changing hairstyles and amusingly enduring physique - for all these memories and more, Pakistan cricket and its fans will always remain deeply indebted to this giant of a man. Thank you Inzamam, thank you Inzi, may God bless you always and all the best for your future.

The Moon Sighting Controversy: Should Muslims Really Have One Eid?

Zainub Razvi — Sat, 13 Oct 2007 18:56:44 EDT

There was a time in my childhood where moon hunting at the end of Ramadan was performed as family ritual. Much like Sid narrates in post over at the Karachi Metroblog, I too can recall scenes from the distant past when I was still in school. Soon after dusk on the 29th of the month I and my sisters would hurriedly break our fasts if we were fasting (or just join in the elders in aftari if we weren’t) and quickly rush to the rooftops thereafter in search for the coveted crescent. But that has all changed.

Moon-sighting has acquired the state of such a contentious issue in recent years, not just in Pakistan locally (where we’ve been having no less then three different Eids for the past several years) but globally everywhere in the larger Muslim community that at least I have completely given up the ‘moon hunting’ ritual of my childhood. Instead, we now suffice with being glued to our TV sets, and waiting for the National Ruyat-e-Hilal (Moon Sighting) Committee to give their verdicts. And this year, the committee told us that they sighted the moon on Saturday the 12th of October. So Pakistan (or at least majority of it anyway) will be observing Eid tomorrow, on the 13th of October.

Despite the fact that even locals -like A for [pine]Apple, who caught this picture of an ultra-thin Shawal crescent today- have verified the claims of the committee, a sizable chunk of folks up in the Pakistani North, including people in Quetta, Peshwar, Mardan and Swat as well as some 200 odd people in Karachi, all offered their Eid prayers on Friday, the 11th of October. Some of these actually claim to have seen the moon earlier while others are adherents of the phenomenon of ‘global sighting’. The latter’s belief is stemmed reportedly from one narration of the Prophet where he asked locals to break their fast a day earlier after travelers to that part testified that they had already seen the moon elsewhere during their travels.

Local sighting advocates too will show you ahadiths (sayings of the Prophet) backing their methodologies as well stories of how the Saudis never really ‘witness’ the moon. One such critic of the Saudi authorities, namely the Muslim Public Affairs Committee of the United Kingdom, will point you towards astronomical calculations that always predict the moon to be seen later then the Saudi’s claim to have seen it. But their views aren’t shared by the Fiqh Council of North America and the Islamic Society of North America, who in accordance with their Saudi counterparts celebrated Eid on Friday.

So you’d think that at least the whole of North America and the UK will have had Eid on Friday and Saturday respectively, but obviously not. My Aunt lives in the state of North Carolina, the two biggest cities there, Raleigh and Durham, are less then a full hour drive away from each other. But local mosques in Durham followed the Suadis while those in Raleigh (dominated largely by expat Pakistani and Indian Muslims) set up their own local moon sighting committee, and promptly asked their adherents to come for prayers on Saturday. Towards the west coast, my sister in Davis, California followed her local mosque and prayed Eid prayers on Friday. In the mid-west, my uncles in Texas ‘saw’ the moon themselves and went to prayers on Saturday. In the North East, in New Jersey, other cousins all went to Eid prayers on Saturday too.

From Canada, Opee shared his thoughts with the Bloggers Association of Pakistan mailing list just before leaving for Eid prayers on Saturday morning. "Middle Eastern mosques" he said, run primarily by Saudis, celebrated Eid on Friday "without moon sighting with naked-eye or by scientific methods". Opee him self, like the majority of Non-Middle Eastern mosques in Canada followed the "Toronto Hilal Committee" which saw the moon on Friday, and celebrated Eid on Saturday. Cross over to Europe and you have the same confusion. Sohaib Athar on the same mailing list said that while most of Manchester where he was based celebrated Eid on Saturday, local authorities in Cambridge, where his brother lives, asked people to offer Eid prayers on Friday.

Elsewhere in Europe, Desicritics Sports editor Huzaifa Das reported that Muslims in Netherlands as well as neighboring Belgium all followed the Saudi route and celebrated Eid on Friday. In the rest of the Muslim world, including in Iran, Iraq and Malaysia, Eid will be celebrated on Saturday. But the most populous Muslims country in the world, Indonesia, celebrated it a day earlier on Friday. I’m not sure when all of our 170 odd million Muslims brothers and sisters in India celebrate Eid, but I was forwarded a link by fellow Desicritic Bhaskar Dasgupta which described how some minor riots broke out in Bhopal when one cleric announced Eid on Sunday.

Three people were left injured in these clashes between supporters of two different Muslim clerics. Quite tragically, these clashes started not because opposing supporters differed on the date of Eid, but who announced it. I’ve written before about how the Muslim ummah needs to grow out of its hypersensitivity over petty issues, and whilst the date of Eid isn’t a petty issue, who announces it certainly gets as petty as it can get.

As a layman, who has little understanding of both the Islamic fiqh of moon-sighting and the astronomical principles associated with the same, you’re often left very confused. There is after all only one moon, how so many different people can passionately claim to have seen it on at least three different days is quite bemusing. It’s not the matter of local sighting vs. global sighting vs. scientific calculations that’s actually confusing for me, but rather how possibly, logically speaking, all of these different methods can come to different conclusions. Scientifically speaking, shouldn’t the moon only be ‘visible’ only on one day? Shouldn’t all these different methods of moon sighting all come up with the same dates for Eid?

Well, no! Tariq Mustafa who blogs at Pakistan Next Generation Issues clarified my ignorance-induced confusion on another mailing list, “Fundamentally” he said, there was no problem in having a number of Eids. “This may sound right out of cracks head but think for a while - there are so many prayers of Fajr and Zuhar according to each area and we don’t' make any fuss out of it. That Eid is a form of worship - something really unique to Muslim faith - we do not jump in joy and get drunk and go wild even when celebrating - allows it to be celebrated in different places at different times without any problem.”

That’s a fair enough argument but as my friend Nadya Qureishi would contest, some problems do arise with having three different Islamic calendars around the world. “Calculating the difference in terms of many, many years is it possible somewhere down the line we would have different number of years to quote since the birth of the Prophet as we do for references?". Indeed, there are difference of opinions on that front between various Muslims scholars.

Perhaps then, calls for outright consensus on such issues may not only be a pipe dream in these times of polarization and schism, but also a failure to respect valid difference of opinion. I may not out rightly agree with everything that organiasations like the Muslims for Progressive Values may propagate, but their recent call for "compassion, patience and peace" between different groups on the issue of moon sighting is a welcome effort.

It is true that Muslims today lack unity as religious assemblage. A large chunk of Muslims countries are monarchies, the rest either weak democracies or out right dictatorships. We all claim to follow the same God, the same Holy Scripture and the same last Prophet, but few of us pray in the same way, observe our holiest days in the same way or have anything like an accord on our views of Islamic history and ideology. But another way of looking at this dis-unity if you will is diversity.

The four greats imams of the four different Sunni schools of thought (Imam Abu Hanifa, Imam Malik, Imam Shafi’i and Imam Hambal) all had disagreements, yet in their collective work you can always find a hint of great respect for each other, respect that embodied refraining from despising each others’ differing opinions as either ‘right’ or ‘wrong’ and instead identifying them as just ‘different opinions’. Even Sunni and Shia leaders, often with vastly differing view points, have emphasized this need to have greater tolerance for each others views.

In fact, I remember watching one religious program -where viewers’ questions are answered in turns by Shia and Sunni scholars- that termed the two sects ‘mirror images’ of each other. Even the four great caliphs, Abu Bakar, Umar, Usman and Ali, may Allah be pleased with them, all had disagreements from time to time. Yet the admiration and respect they shared for each other, is something that modern Muslims and their numerous sects can only dream of aspiring.

Perhaps consensus would be ideal. But ideals are thing of fantasy, and in the hope to achieve them, we can not jeopardize the real that we do have. As Tariq Mustafa concluded in his email to me, “one must appreciate that it [Eid] is actually a 'spectrum of celebration' that is actually a band that can extend from date 1 to date 2 across the world and people can perform this celebrative worship according to their local moon [sightings].” This makes logical sense too.

Eid celebrations after all are greatly predominated and influenced by local culture across the Muslim world, so much so that you’d find a big difference in the way it’s observed from Turkey to Pakistan to Indonesia. We all eat different kinds of festive food, we all wear different kind of festive clothes, we all really do have our own special way of celebrating Eid. And if we all don’t celebrate Eid in the same way, why should there be an expectation to have it on the same date of the solar calendar?

Besides, as blogger Adnan Siddiqui rightly pointed out to me on Facebook, there are other issues, much more pertinent and pressing then Eid, which Muslims really ought to strive to reach some consensus on, but we never bother touching those. Eid hence provides us with another occasion to try to respect our differing views while setting aside the tendency to label different views either ‘wrong’ or "right", and instead recognise them as just that, different views.

So whether you’ve celebrated Eid on Friday, Saturday or will celebrate it on Sunday (like me), I hope you’ve had a spiritually fulfilling Ramadan and a joyous and blessed Eid to follow it. Taqabbal Minna Wa Min Kum (May Allah accept the good deeds for me and you).

“Oh Allah! Let the crescent moon appear over us with security and eman; [O Moon!] my Creator and your Creator is Allah”
-Quoted from Tirmidihi, this is the Prophet Muhammad’s supplication for moon sighting as presented in Javeriya’s blog.

See Also:

Frequently Asked Questions at moonsighting.com
Eid 101 by Muhammad Alshareef

Image Credit: A for [pine]apple, originally published at the Islamabad Metroblog, all rights reserved, reproduced here with permission

Disclaimer: The above, is at best, a layman’s perspective. For a more detailed fiqhi and scientific perspective, see either the FAQ section on moonsighting.com or go visit the imam of your local moque! Walahu Alam (Allah Knows Best)!

Plagiarism In The Pakistani Blogosphere

Zainub Razvi — Thu, 11 Oct 2007 08:01:45 EDT

What is common between the Russian President Vladimir Putin, the famous American deaf and blind author cum activist Helen Keller and lead guitarist of The Beatles, George Harrison? They've all been accused of (and in at least two of these cases) successfully proven to have been guilty of plagiarism (see Wikipedia article on Plagiarism for more).

Incidentally it so happens that I've written a fair amount about this evil and in particular how the medium of the Internet has opened a plethora of opportunities for those who willing to cut short on a little extra hard work and suffice with mass copy-pasting. In the July issue of Spider I was asked to write a feature story on the theme, and a month earlier, in June, via The Karachi Metroblog I had discovered how one popular Pakistani ezine We Cite had been mass copying its content from all sorts of sources on the world wide web, right from ordinary blogs to the Washington Post's Slate magazine.

Since then, I've discovered several more instances of plagiarism in the Pakistani online presence (and other less serious though in no way insignificant cases of copyright infringement), many of which I had all but forgotten because I didn't want to carve out a reputation of my self as some one who enjoys driving publicity out of ruining other people's reputations. And frankly, there were so many of them, I just resigned to the fact that this isn't something you can curb merely by pointing it out in blogs. But then something I saw this morning brought back all those nasty memories I had buried all over again, and this time, since the plagiarized content in question had appeared in a mainstream popular Pakistani blog I knew bringing this out was necessary, and that if I didn't I would in effect be endorsing it. So here's what happened.

In its editorial two days ago, Dawn had touched upon the subject of public toilets and their dearth in Pakistan, I had read this two days ago and obviously retained part of it in my mind as you would when reading anything. This morning when I logged into my Google feed reader, I saw a post with a similar title. Assuming that it will discuss the said editorial, I went on to read. I kept reading till I reached the end of the short, concise post by Mehar Nawaz Khan at The Pakistani Spectator. Something wasn't going down too well even though I seemed to agree with everything Mehar had said.

Then it finally dawned on me. Why did the whole post sound so familiar to the editorial I had read two days earlier in Dawn? To check, I went up to the Dawn website, looked up their achieves and surely enough, there it was: the post at TPS and the editorial in Dawn; identical, verbatim copies of each other. A few months ago I may have been quite taken aback by such blatant plagiarism, but not now. If there's a ring of suspicion that rises about any thing, I almost half expect it to be completely indiscriminate with no attempt made even to blur the line between copied and original.

But the disappointment this time is much greater. I had caught plagiarism in a post from my RSS reader. This means that this was a blog I frequented and it had my respect for the perspectives it brought with it. There's been a lot of headway made by the Pakistani blogosphere in recent times and The Pakistani Spectator has been a vigilant avenue chronicling much of this progress. In an ongoing series, another of the TPS's bloggers Gazalah Khan has been interviewing prominent names from the Pakistani blogosphere (including yours truly). It is in ingenious idea that has resulted in some really fascinating insight into people like Raza Rumi, Omar Alvi, Awab Alvi, Owais Mughal, S A J Shirazi and others. TPS's coverage of ongoing political events in Pakistan has been equally impressive, coming across as refreshingly honest and forthright. That's why this discovery is as disappointing as it is.

The Pakistani Spectator is good blog, and good blogs don't have contributors copy-pasting editorials from national dailies (not the least without mentioning that they're quoting them!). There's a possibility this might have happened inadvertently, Mehar may have meant to quote the editorial in full, but forgotten to attribute properly, in which case, this is a grave error and needs to be acknowledged immediately. However if this was intentional, which it appears to be given how the author has made no attempt to correct the misconceptions arising in the comments that are showering praise at Maher for a writing a "touching" post, then that goes to say a lot about the mindset we have towards plagiarism as a society.

Students already tend to view copyright as "my right to copy", the main stream media are lax in their surveillance of intellectual theft, the powers to be at the highest levels (whoever they are) are derelict in applying whatever limited laws there are against such crimes, and all the rest of society is just too indifferent enough to bother. No wonder plagiarism is as rampant as it is, and it is carried out with as much effrontery as it is! Forget bloggers who plagiarise online, or even about students copy pasting assignments from Wikepedia to hand in last minute homework (and how teachers will, more often then not, do very little apart from verbally reprimand their students for this), in a recent job interview that I gave, my interviewer narrated how one of the applicants had copied large chunks of a written assignment given to shortlisted candidates off an advertising blog, and not only that later justifyed his actions by saying he was merely "quoting".

You'd think that you'd want to start your career on an honest note at least, but seems like honesty is no longer the moral yardstick of society. Of course I'd still hate to generalize all this with respect to Mehar Nawaz Khan and her questionable post at The Pakistani Spectator, it may be possible that it was done inadvertently, but surely enough, if that was the case, the mistakes should have been realised by now, especially when commentators in the post have started paying compliments to the author for a well compiled entry! That this post has sat there for two days and the author has basked in the glory of some one else's writing, and that too not any random some one but the editor of the largest read English daily in Pakistan, is nothing short of disgraceful. I'd still hate to think that TPS's reputation on a whole as one of the better blogs in the Pakistani blogosphere should suffer from this. But a speedy acknowledgment with due clarification and an apology wouldn't do any harm, and could possibly save them from more serious consequences (such as a law suit filed by Dawn).

And more importantly I hope that the Pakistani and indeed global blogosphere learns from this. Its easy to copy and paste on the web, so easy that even a website like Yahoo! has been found to indulge in it but there's no hiding when you're caught. And its not worth whatever little popularity it gains you in the meanwhile. Its no small business, its like stealing! So lets be honest, and promote intellectual honestly in others as well.

Shoaib Malik - An Utterly Needless Controversy

Zainub Razvi — Thu, 27 Sep 2007 00:15:33 EDT

Shoaib Malik, the 25-year-old Pakistani skipper, hails from the city of Sialkot, the north eastern industrial hub of Punjab. A versatile performer on the field, Malik had been earmarked as a future captain in Pakistan Cricket circles much before his eventual appointment following the debacle of the 2007 World Cup. His obvious cricketing talent, however, hasn’t always meant a clean bill of health in the disciplinary records.Twice he has been reported (and subsequently cleared) for having a suspect action, so much so that the captain now bowls only infrequently and almost never balls his contentious “doosra” delivery. His action however, hasn’t been the only polemic point of his career. Two years ago, in Pakistan’s inaugural domestic Twenty20 competition he intentionally lost a match, leading his native Saiklot Stallion team against the Karachi Zebras with the intention of engineering an exit for a rival side, the Lahore Eagles. The Eagles had earlier won against Sialkot in a game where Malik’s side was docked overs for a poor over rate despite, in Malik’s opinion, having an acceptable over rate. Malik’s actions as such were seen as something of a protest against them.

But the Pakistan Cricket Board (and very rightly at that) wasn’t a tiny bit impressed. Immediate actions were undertaken that involved declaring the result of the match null and void and penalizing Malik of his entire match fee and handing him a 1 test match ban. Malik’s punishment could have been even more severe, but the fact that he had in due course apologized for his actions, admitting to being caught up “in the heat of the moment”, probably saved him from further penalties. Rameez Raja at the time said the fiasco could have a lasting impact on Malik’s career, especially his chances of gaining captaincy in the future.Though Raja’s fears failed to materialize when Malik emerged as an obvious contender for the job after Inzamam’s exit, the young man’s impassioned temperament has more the once led him to say or do things he later regrets. After winning many plaudits through the course of the recently concluded ICC Twenty20 World Cup, including for his leadership of a young unrated side right down to the final, Malik landed in hot water over what appears to be a gaffe at the tournament’s awards ceremony.

“I want to thank you back home Pakistan and where the Muslim lives all over the world,” said Malik, addressing his “Muslim” fan base. Or so we’re told by Mukal Kesavan and co. in any case. Kesavan said he re-saw the highlights to double check if those were the exact words the Pakistani skipper had said. Too bad he didn’t make the same effort to check Malik’s proficiency over the language. English is probably Malik’s third language after Punjabi and Urdu. The discussion at Kesavan’s Cricinfo blog Men In White has generated no less then 681 comments. In separate mailing lists in my Inbox, more discussion is underway, with people split between raising mild eyebrows and taking severe offense.

The rest of the blogosphere, cricket message boards and the larger social web are all abuzz with discussions on a similar theme. Even the MSM has now caught up with the news, with The Hindustan Times carrying a report on the controversy in its Tuesday issue. One Indian fan, Nostromo, at the World-A-Team Cricket Message Board, took so much offense, he equated the remark with “a racist comment”.

“Does a West Indian captain ever thank "all the blacks in the World" when things go well for them?” he asked in apparent outrage, “how can Malik (and those who control him) assume that all the other Muslims support the Pakistani cricket team, even if they have heard of it?” I guess it was a convenient assumption for Nostromo to make himself that the statement was a reflection of those who “control” Malik (whoever those happened to be anyway!).

The comment has equally enticed non-Muslim Pakistani supporters. In a discussion on the blog All Things Pakistan, commentator Christian Pak asked the skipper if Hindus and Christians in Pakistan, the U.S., Canada and Gulf who supported the Pakistan team “don’t count?” In another blog Nae Ireumeun Mitasha narrated how the comment has hurt Indian Muslims:

“Someone I’m close to is Muslim. Living in India. A prominent family in the town. Minutes after the match, there were demonstrations outside the house. “Muslims Murdabad, Pakistan Murdabad.” It was a dangerous, frightening situation. Shops closed down in the neighborhood, anticipating violence. It’s happened before, and I’m not blaming Malik entirely. It happens in a country with tensions high between the religions. […]There were Muslims today who felt accused and wronged in their own country, who had to bear unjustified looks from other ignorant people (there’s no lack of ignorance in this world), who were verbally and physically attacked in many places, who were saddened and shocked to be questioned and treated in this manner, when they simply wanted to do what everyone else was doing: share sweets, sing songs of victory, give prayers and thanks.”

Almost everywhere, the cliché that sport and religion do not mix has come out in full force, with some people seeing the comments as another reflection of the Pakistan team’s so-called growing religious clout. Whilst I’m not here to endorse what Malik said, I cannot help but think that if a mere verbal comment made by a cricket player can provoke ordinary people to react violently like this, then there has to be something fundamentally skewed in our psychology.

As a practicing Muslim, passionate cricket fan and patriotic Pakistani myself, I can understand all these hurt feelings and suspicions everywhere. Indeed, sport is a bridge. It’s something that brings together diverse cultures and societies, not build fences around them. Our world today is polarized enough as it is, but international sport remains one of the few global arenas that remains, by and large, unaffected by our self-made divisions. That’s why sport is such a splendid realm of human society. And that’s why this controversy is as needless as it is.

But before we cast the Pakistan skipper as the villain, we must take several things into consideration. The first is that the man we’re speaking about is handicapped in the language he was using. And I can’t stress that enough. Malik is not a lot different from other Pakistani captains of the past in that he can barely put together two sentences in English without altering the subject verb agreement, messing up the pronoun case and distorting many other grammar rules along the way. That is something we cannot blame him for.

Sure he is an international sportsman but we cannot blame him for not being fluent in a language that only a select class in his native country can speak in. We should, as human beings capable of erring ourselves, give him the leverage of having a slip of tongue.

Unless Malik specifically comes out and clarifies one cannot automatically assume what his implications were, and certainly in no way equate them with the rest of Pakistan’s views. May be he wanted to thank all Pakistani Muslims around the world, may be he wanted to thank all Pakistanis across the world, irrespective of religion. Maybe what he meant to say was prayers and it ended up coming out as Muslims. Maybe he was compelled to bring religion into a thank you note only because it was the holy month of Ramadan. There could be several things Mr. Malik could have meant, as Pakistani supporter Maranello explains. That one statement could be interpreted in so many different ways does sounds rather improbable, but given the nature of command Shoaib has over the English language, not even one of these can be ruled out. To form a judgment of him, based on any of the possible interpretations, hence, would be unfair.Of course, this isn’t denying that any of these would be correct assumptions on Malik’s part to make, if he made them at all. Not even every Pakistani supports his team, let alone talks of all Muslim Pakistanis or Muslims across the world. It’s a flawed world view if he holds it. But herein lies the catch. We can’t possibly be sure that that really is his world view at all.

Libertarians like Gaurav Sabnis don’t buy into the language barrier argument. They contest that even if this was to be Shoaib’s world view, we should respect it as such. “Why should we expect everyone to be politically correct?” Sabnis asked rhetorically on the Different Strokes mailing list, “Shoaib is entitled to his beliefs”. While this is a charitable view to hold, I do not personally think we have the kind of tolerance as a collective human race these days for it to be considered pragmatic.Besides, as numerous people have noted, sportsmen and women and celebrities in general, do not, in today’s day and age, have the liberty to speak their minds freely without any worries about the ramifications. This is the price they have to pay for fame, for being in the public eye all the time. Every move they make, every word they utter, is scrutinized over and over, juxtaposed with established norms and judged with respect to the precedent it sets for the masses. And in that respect, someone in Malik’s position certainly did have a great amount of responsibility. Perhaps Shoaib was a bit clumsy. Casual if you will. Irresponsible if you’re stretching it. But suspecting him of deliberate idiocy or genuine intentions of being provocative or causing people this hurt or offense? That would be stretching it too far. “A storm in tea cup” as Mr. Dasgupta would call it.

It would be cricket’s loss if after such a wonderful tournament, and such a wonderful end, it all comes down to discussing the virtues and vices of political correctness. This should be the time to rejoice the spectacle of sport, its unpredictability and character, which can humble many a champion and crown many an underdog. It’s unfortunate that a faux pas came at such time as it did. But let’s not lose sleep over it, shall we?

Bangladesh's Cartoon Controversy: The Prophet and His Honor

Zainub Razvi — Mon, 24 Sep 2007 00:04:07 EDT

A few weeks ago I had quoted Simon DeDeo (a Chicago based astrophysicist and literary critic who blogs at Slashdot) in response to a pertinent article at Desicritics by Aditi Nadkarni on freedom of speech on the Internet. The quote was: “your right to free speech ends where it steps on someone else's right. Just like my right to swing my arm ends before it connects with your nose."

Freedom of speech, like freedom of anything else, and like freedom as a phenomenon in ittself, is rarely an autonomous entity. It’s always relative to other things. Freedom of speech in particular is frequently juxtaposed with several kinds of established norms, cultural, social, political and more then ever before, religious.

The outrage pouring out of Bangladesh over a joke about the name of the Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) is hence not entirely surprising. It’s disturbing yes, but not surprising. Such tactics, as the blog Foreign Policy notes, are a “familiar pattern in Muslim countries ruled by authoritarian governments."

"Religious conservatives,” Blake Hounshell notes, “use religion cynically to embarrass the regime and whip up populist sentiment." Populist sentiment driven by misplaced notions of religious ideology and blind adherence to the religious sanctimony, has far bigger ulterior motives then guarding the honor and respect of the Prophet, let alone Islam as a whole. For if it truly did, people would know better then to entice and provoke an ignorant and easily misinformed public on such petty issues.

And it really was petty. The cartoon in question was published in Alpin, a satirical cartoon supplement of the Daily Prothom Alo, one of Bangladesh’s most popular dailies. Rezwan from Global Voices gives us more background information:

"In the 6th page of its 431th issue a cartoon titled ‘name' was published (on Monday, September 17, 2007) which created much controversy in Bangladesh. So what was in that cartoon? The controversy is not in the picture, rather in the text. The Bangla blogosphere took on this issue right from the beginning. The text of the cartoon is a conversation between a boy and an aged person. Blogger Sudharam Sadhu posts the texts [bn] in his blog:

* Boy, what is your name?
- My name is Babu.
* It is customary to mention Muhammed before the name.
* What is your father's name?
- Muhammed Abu
* What's this in your lap?
- Muhammed cat"

Needless to say the cartoonist has already been fired. In fact he’s arrested. But right wing fundamentalist groups in Bangladesh are still not happy. They’re demanding the ban of the newspaper and the arrest of its editor, the well renowned free speech activist and winner of the Magsaysay Award, Matiur Rahman. This mind you, is after the sub-editor of that humor section has already been “terminated for carelessness” and two front page apologies have been issued by the publication. Still we see people (or rather political activists and mobs disguised as normal people) on the streets in Bangladesh protesting, chanting slogans and burning copies of the publication - all in defense of the stature of Holy Prophet, they’d have us believe.

I shudder to think what our beloved Prophet would have made of our efforts to protect his reputation if he were alive. We’re clearly not following any of the examples he set for us during his lifetime. As a Muslim who’s grown up listening to stories of the Prophet’s forbearance and tolerance, such self-serving so-called defense of religious sensibilities comes across as quite alien to me.

As early as third grade we were narrated the story of a man who lent the Prophet some money. An agreement had been made with regards to when his money would be returned, and the due date was still a while away when the man (an Arab pagan polytheist) came storming into the Prophet’s residence demanding his lent money, hurling abuse at him and calling names to his family. The Prophet remained silent, but as the man proceeded to manhandle him with increasing severity, one of the Prophet’s companions, who was standing nearby couldn’t take it any longer and stepped in to try and distance the unruly man from the Prophet.

And what does the beloved Prophet do? Ask the companion to stop and, instructs him instead to go and return the amount he owed to the man. He doesn’t have him arrested, and put in jail. He doesn’t issue a “death fatwa” against him. No. In fact, he stops a companion trying nothing but to protect his physical well-being and instead asks him to fulfill that man’s right. And the companion obeyed the Prophet, immediately doing as he was told to do.

This is just one example in isolation. A deeper investigation of the Prophet’s life shows how there was never any shortage of abuse hurled at him and how he never responded to any such provocation. The question of whether the text in question was or wasn’t intended to cause offense is therefore categorically irrelevant. The point is that the manner in which we have responded belies the teachings of the Prophet whose very honor we are so eager to defend.

In The Sealed Nectar, a biography of the Prophet by Safiur-Rehman Al-Mubarakpuri, the scope of the Prophet’s patience and stamina is described as being inversely proportional to the level of crudeness he was approached with:

“His stamina, endurance and forgiveness, while he was in a commanding position; his patience and firmness in unfavorable conditions, were all his talents, attributes and qualities… […] unlike everyone, the more he was hurt or injured, the more gentle and patient he became. The more rudeness and ignorance anybody exercised against him, the more enduring he became. Aishah, may Allah be pleased with her, (one of the Prophet’s most beloved wives) said: …“He never took revenge for him self: but when the sanctity of Allah was violated, he would avenge it. That would be for Allah’s sake not for himself.” He was the last one to get angry and the first to be satisfied.”

Clearly, we have let down the Prophet’s honor. And that is nothing to do with any cartoons, but with how little we know and understood the man whose honor we are so eager to defend at every available opportunity. In an age already replete with Islamophobia, Bangladesh is not only shooting itself in the foot by creating such a mountain out of a mole hill, it is also doing a great disservice to Islam’s reputation. Our overboard and often violent reactions to such paltry issues, particularly in this case, when the offense was clearly not intended, represent Islam in a bad light, feeding the stereotypes that drive Western society into xenophobia of Muslims.

The acts of fascist rulers are not new, nor are they likely to change anytime soon, but the ordinary Muslim on a Dhaka street should know better then to fall for their hidden agendas, for this is a time of great responsibility for moderate Muslims. They must stand up and make themselves counted. They must stand up and remind the rest of their hoodwinked ummah of the legacy of tolerance, broadmindedness and peaceful coexistence that Islam and its Prophet has given us. For the sake of the greater good of Islam and for upholding the Prophet’s honor in its true sense, it is about time Muslims learned: live and let live.

The Virtues Of Being Creative In Education

Zainub Razvi — Sat, 22 Sep 2007 01:10:19 EDT

Aditi Nadkarni's excellent essay here at Desicritics on the theme of job satisfaction and its positive correlation with choosing a career based on personal interests rather then merely its remuneration prospects stuck a chord with me. They not only reminded me of my own struggles with convincing others around me of this, but my own frustration with the higher secondary school education system in Pakistan, and its terse scope which provided with me little opportunities to expand on my interests. With a bit of exaggeration, I could well say the article ignited the hidden educationist within me.

Never a studious person in my life, I have always abhorred examinations despising them as a selective and arbitrary means of judging students’ collective creative, intellectual and academic capacities. "You work and work over a period of days and years, and it all boils down to how you perform in a single test that lasts a few hours!", how categorically unfair I protested, virtually throughout my childhood. So when I discovered recently that I'd need to give yet another exam in order to be considered eligible for admission in undergraudate programs in the US, I wasn't actually brimming with joy.

The SAT (formerly Scholastic Aptitude Test now just SAT Reasoning Test) for those unaware is a standardized test every university in the US requires you to get into college. Apparently it exists because university officials don't have the time to dwell over all your academic pursuits up until high school in a lot of depth. So they put a standard test for everyone everywhere, whose results appear to them as a single score, which they can conveniently give a perfunctory glance to and place you in a certain category of students. They also place significance on your high school GPA so its not all about the SAT, but it is nevertheless important. The bigger school you're applying to though, the more weightage the SAT carries (because the bigger schools because of the large volume of applications they receive have less time to review other aspects of your application).

Its a pragmatic way of choosing students based on merit I concede, but I'm just not a big fan of 'standardized' tests, or any tests for that matter. So when I learned I had to give this one more standardized exam, I immediately knew I would need some help if I didn't intend to embarrass my self yet again. Some one thereafter recommended The Princeton Review (TPR), an organiasation that claims to be the foremost guru at teaching you how to take pretty much every standardized test that exists (from the SAT, to the GRE, GMAT, LMAT, MCAT and who knows more). After some initial reservations (a single 5 week course for SAT I comes at the modest cost of Rs. 19,500) I registered at a course. Last week I finished that course. Its amazing how much my perspective has changed in these five weeks. Much of that is credit to TPR, which proved to be an institution super down on exam-related clichés and worn out teaching skills and super keen on creating innovative acronyms, portmanteau words and other tongue-in-cheek terminologies, characters and methods, all of which make learning a more fun and less humdrum experience.

‘Joe Blog’ was the one of the foremost amongst numerous such coinages that I begin to acquaint my self with. He (or she) is a fictional character that chooses the most obvious (yet wrong) answer choice. It’s not a derogatory name for a certain type of student taking the test but rather a more generalized terminology that addresses the intrinsic human tendency to initially think about the most common or apparent things. In that sense, there’s a Joe Blog in each and every one of us.

What’s the first word that comes to your mind when I say the word ‘black’? If you thought ‘white’, there you go, that’s the Joe Blog in you. In our class, when we did this exercise 10 out of 12 people responded with ‘white’. Sitting in my first class, I thought, how fascinating, I came here to learn how to excel on a test, and already, I’m learning so much more than just how to take a test; I’m also learning about human psychology side by side. It was only a small tool, less than a five minute exercise to be more precise, but in terms of generating an interest in my class, it made an instant impact.

SAT questions, we were next told, appear in increasing ‘Order of Difficulty’ or more conveniently ‘OOD’. Add a ‘P’ to the ‘ODD’ and you have another neologism: POOD or ‘Personal Order of Difficulty’. ODD is a standard yardstick. Permutation and Combination questions are harder then basic Algebra. But POOD varies from person to person. I like Geometry better then Arithmetic, but for you it may be the other way round.

The hardest questions came last and for these we’re told to automatically cross out any ‘Joe Blog Answers’. What is the most amount of pieces you can cut a doughnut into by drawing two straight lines? This is an actual SAT question believe it or not and since its question 19 in section with a total of 20 questions it is definitely an H or Hard (you have E for easy, and M for medium) on the OOD scale. 4 is a ‘Joe Blog Answer’ because it’s the first and most obvious thing that comes to your mind. So that’s out. You can close your eyes and mark that answer choice wrong. It’s that certain. Out of the 4 remaining answer choices, 3 are numerically less then 4, so logically, they’re all wrong too, and hence the only remaining answer choice, i.e. 6, is the correct answer! Viola, I thought at the back of my mind, that’s much easier then I anticipated it would be.

‘Joe Blog Answers’ are put in by the test makers ETS (in reality Educational Testing Service but more odiously described at TPR as the ‘Evil Testing Satans’) to deceive us. Yes, you’ve heard me right, those darned fellows, they’ll just do anything to confuse us. Wow, I thought to my self again, for once I’m attending a class where I’m being told the examination makers at helm don’t have my best interests at heart! They’re just here to bamboozle, perplex, hoodwink and trick me! (BTW, that synonym galore is a byproduct of yet another nifty tricky to improve on the arcane vocabulary tested on the SAT: learn up words in groups of synonyms we were told, how ingenious I thought once more, why did I never think of that?!)

Coming back to the deceptive intentions of ETS, finally I celebrated, after all these years, some one agrees with me. Tests aren't good. Test makers are even worse! With this revelation about the ETS’s ulterior motives, I now suddenly felt vindicated for not having studied 12 hours per day of school life like my geeky sisters did. My interest in class thereafter rose exponentially. For a person that’s driven to strive not by actual goals, but by sheer motivation, this was a significant milestone. The un-studious person inside me was now raging with passion; “You damned ETS, I’ll take your damned SAT and outdo it with such flying colours you’ll remember it for you entire life” I heard my inner self mumbling with ferocious ambition. As we progressed in the course I never did manage to complete as many questions in our class’s timed drills as some of the more Math-loving students, but I may have been the only person in our class to have always completed all my homework (which we were given plenty of). Not trying to talk my self up here, but just giving an example of how a simple thing like that helped motivate a potentially indifferent student like my self.

Sadly, this ability to generate interest for a subject in a student is not only a quality that is quite rare among the teaching fraternity but it’s also one that is hopelessly neglected. I was fortunate to have attended one of Karachi’s best, if not the best school, and also to have an instructor like Noori Rizvi at TPR, who not only excelled at this, but also regarded it as a priority. Most other teachers I’ve encountered outside of this sphere of my beloved alma meter and the TPR, tend to be concerned only with finishing their designated course, wiling away the allotted time class some how, and just delivering their lecture and leaving. Classes as a result end up as monotonous monologues which unless you’re one of the really nerdy types, you’re least interested in and the teacher too is least interested in removing your disinterest. This sort of dysfunctional student-teacher relationship in my view forms the very first foundations of a below average grade.

When I gave my first diagnostic test about five weeks ago, my aggregate score was 1500 out of 2400 (yes, yes, my Math is really that poor). In the last diagnostic I’ve received my scores for though, I've improved by nearly 300 points. I’ve got two more diagnostic tests to go before I take my final SAT from the Evil Testing Satans on October the 6th, and I feel confident about improving by a further 200 points at least. But I didn’t write this post to boast about my own accomplishments, neither did I write to singularly advertise for the TPR or even to laud my instructor, but because I wanted to appreciate the emphasis laid by these intuitions on the very basics of teachings, and for striving so much to employ new techniques to better achieving those basics, because sadly this has become an anomaly in the teaching profession in Karachi.

Out of school private tuitions are so commonplace now that they have acquired the status of an integral part of the academic culture. Long gone are the days where students would actually look down upon other students taking “extra” tuitions outside of school. Back in my days in school, we use to equate that with extraordinary weakness in a subject, so much so that you require extra help after school hours (and yet, mind you, I never took Math tuitions!). Now, in contrast, if you’re not taking tuitions for at least one subject, irrespective of whether you’re appearing for local HSC or SSC exams, or the Cambridge affiliated O and A-Level exams, you’ll be likely to be thought of as an utter fool.

One particularly shameless teacher I encountered in my stay at the state run PECHS College, where I graduated my Intermediate from, came to his first class and conveniently wrote his contact number on the black board. “Please contact me on this number for more information about tuitions” he declared with an amazing amount of nonchalance and promptly left class thereafter. As a person who in was used to being almost spoon fed by extremely dedicated teachers at the Mama School, I couldn’t quite believe what my eyes were seeing then, a teacher so openly advertising his private tuitions so as to not teach in class, something that he was being paid to do.

I wasn’t a big fan of Physics in any case, but the strong sense of indignation I felt at his cheap advertising gimmick meant that was the first and last time I took that teacher's class. That, apparently, mattered little, because from what my friends told me, he didn’t bother showing up for a lot of them in any case. Still, you can understand that happening at a state run educational institution, where there’s a general dearth of teachers of any kind, let alone good quality ones. And with the amount the government allots for education spending in budgets year after year, that’s hardly a surprise. But it’s slightly more perplexing why the tuition culture should be just as widespread in even private school students. That’s one enigma I’m still trying to solve.

In the meanwhile, I rejoice in the fact that all is not lost, that there are still devoted, committed, and professional people left within Karachi’s education system, who are genuinely concerned with imparting education to their students in the truest sense and not just making a living out of doing so. To all these institutions, to their teachers, and all the support staff in the background that makes this noble cause of education possible, well done! May the rest of Karachi follow your example!

Solving Karachi's Civic Problems - Elephants Never Fly

Zainub Razvi — Thu, 20 Sep 2007 00:47:09 EDT

Karachi, has a serious problem when it rains. The wretched state of roads in our neighborhood narrate a sorry tale of our local government’s indifference towards our problems.

Yes, I know many people who got stuck on the road (I actually know fewer people who were saved somehow from this headache), and yes, water did come into our house. And yes, our neighborhood was submerged, and yes, I have LOTS of angry comments about the 'performance' (or lack there off) of the concerned officials, whoever they are, usually, who ever you go to ask to, tends to pass the buck to some one else ('oh no madam this is not CDGK's jurisdiction’ 'this is not the right union council you're talking to' ‘this is a DHA/Cantonment/Anyone Else But Our Matter').

Usually, since our house is rather absurdly at slightly lower level then the road outside (or if you look at it the other way, since the road outside is in such a pathetic condition, with or without rain, it renders the whole geography of the region slightly absurd). Water, in the case of excessive rains, usually comes in from the front yard. After last year's rains, and several of futile complains at the local Nazim’s office and at every possible door we could knock at to try and get the road repaired (including at letters to the editor at Dawn, umpteenth number of phone calls and application to various officials, including one as high up as the office of a provincial cabinet minister), we learned our lesson and got our front yard raised our self.

This was no inexpensive procedure as you may well imagine, and cost my parents not only money, but time and headache. Nevertheless, since we got so disheartened in the road ever being repaired, we eventually decided to hell with the civic agencies of this city whose job is to use the taxes we pay them to provide us with the basic amenities of life, we'll just provide our self with those amenities, and spend more money on things which we had supposedly already paid for already!

After getting the fortnight long reconstruction, our runway was finally at a higher level then the main road and now safe from the danger of being flooded with dirty water (a combination of rain water and overflowing sewerage) in the aftermath of monsoons in future.

And thankfully enough, thanks to nothing but only the mercy of Allah, we were saved from that this year. But since we were saved from the incoming floods from the front, on one particularly rainy day, water surged in from our terrace, down via our stairs and accumulated in our lobby. Thankfully again, this was only a temporary problem which had arisen because one of the pipes on the terrace had been blocked. When its functionality was restored, which it was quickly, the over flowing stopped. In the meanwhile we took care of any water that had already made its way to our lobby and calm was restored.

But of course, the fact that water hadn't come in our house wasn't the end of all our problems. The road outside, of course, remained flooded as usual. Getting in and out of the house each time as a result was an uphill struggle of sorts. And just for the sake of it, we called up the "relevant" officials again (just like we always do, and just like they always do too, they assured us that the problem will be taken care of "soon"). And just like it always happen, they failed to show up.

After a few days of sunny intervals the accumulated water just evaporated by it self, re-exposing the road in its pathetic condition. And you can come and check by, it’s still in the same condition. The funniest thing is after the latest rains this season, my mom and dad tried once again to employ another high level source. The contractor who did our runway reconstruction had a friend, whose neighbour happened to be the real maternal uncle of the city nazim Mustafa Kamal; we got the word around the City Nazim's ear to some how get the road in our muhulla, and specifically the lane beside the mosque (our lane) re-laid.

Our request for the road, which after this latest rain spell had reduced to resemble a village path, to be reconstructed, was surprisingly heard this time. One sunny day, completely out of blue, we saw big rollers, and other road making equipment. We were overjoyed. Finally at least something worked. But our joy was not only short lived but also misplaced.

My mom had told the source to get the road of the lane beside the mosque build. Well surely enough, that's what the road builders did, at the speed of lights, in less then one complete day, with non stop work even at night, they build the main road leading to our lane, and when it came to also building the road beside the mosque, they erroneously build the lane on the left side of the mosque! Doh! And our lane was on the right!

Such great skills they showed at literal interpretation! This is not to the say the road on the left didn't need an overhaul either but just goes to show how the system works here. Road officials came to a place, fix part of it, see and clearly see another part of it also in desperate need of repairs, but since the orders from higher up only asked to repair a certain part of the road, they completely ignore what they see and make their jolly way back.

So not only do you need sifarish to get something done in this country, you also need personalized sifarish and very specific sifarish at that, nothing less apparently works. And you know what the worst part of this is, that there is really so little you can do to change this system. It’s depressing frankly. The gutters and road in question are the same ones my dad complained about in a letter to the editor of Dawn last year. At its zenith, when the gutter overflowed unstoppably and the road was completely submerged, this is what the space in front of my gate looked like (more snaps here, here and here). And I assure this is Clifton, supposedly one of the posh areas of the city. I assure you also that we survived through this not for one or two days, but for weeks on end, and yet nothing was done by anyone, until we took matters in our own hand.

With this sort of an experience with dealing with the City Government officials I'm not even sure why I entertained the idea of filing a new complaint, this time using the brand new ‘online complain portal’ the government had step up. I can’t deny it was in part influenced by a good review this service had received by a user over at the Karachi Metroblog. I didn’t, still, expect the callous officials of my council to suddenly wake up at the disgruntled plea of a law abiding, regular tax paying citizen; when they hadn’t bothered to do so in the past despite numerous real life calls, and trips to their offices, it would be akin to expect elephants to fly if I held any hopes from this “online” complain system.

But I just thought that if nothing else I should try out my luck. Perhaps, just as an outside chance, since this is an election year, they'll consider having mercy on us and construct the road outside our house. How foolish of me though. I’ve just spent a complete hour trying (in vain of course) to register my complaint outline, but all I’ve got in return is repeated “your complaint could not be posted now, please try again later” error messages. Elephants, I should have known, never do fly.