Harking back: Imran driver, WW1 martyrs and amazing migrants

History is all about the people, places, things and faces of a land. In books and columns you will read about the excellence of the famous, but never ‘common people’ as they are described. For a change let me dwell on the lives, past and present, of three common humans, ‘uncommon’ that their achievements are.

Greater opportunity, call it profit, attracts humans. There was an age when everyone wished to go to Muslim Spain, followed by Mughal India, and now it’s the West. These days it is a dream to go to the USA, or Canada, or Europe and settle there. The determination of our people to make it big produces some amazing example of desperation and bravery. The current Migrant Crisis in the world is part of that human movement.

In that spirit let me first narrate, as an example, the compelling story of Imran, the driver. His ambition to be the best has taken him places. Almost 30 years ago as a little boy in a vest, a baggy ‘shalwar’ and rubber ‘chappals’ he turned up at our door. There he stood a tall, slim fair boy aged a mere 12 wanting a job. The wife asked if he had any experience. Bang came the confident reply: “If you employ me I will be experienced”. Always ready for a challenge the begum employed him. “Why employ an inexperienced unknown boy?” I queried. She responded: “Because I like him”. End of query.

So this little handsome tall boy from Dumali, in Jhelum, was employed. After a day his first demand emerged. “I need proper clothes”, he says. So in the car we went to Saddar Bazaar and got him a ‘shalwar kameez’. Gosh was he choosy. Once that was acquired he asked for shoes. “Good quality ones only”, he adds. His polite arrogance my wife liked. Then followed a demand for proper bedding. In a way for a boy who had absolutely nothing, it was understandable. The neighbouring ladies suggested that he be sacked. The wife said: “No, he is someone’s son”.

So started the career of Imran. He was taught to cook, but only on the promise that we do not tell anyone that he cooks. “In Dumali people will laugh”, he pleaded. By now he was growing taller and on Eid he was the smartest person in the mosque. One day a neighbour turned up and asked about the brigadier’s son. “He is my friend in the mosque”, he later explained. Oh, Imran and his prestige was at work.

Then followed the expected turn when he wanted to learn how to drive. Initial resistance was expected but then soon he became our driver and was known in the family as Imran, the driver. Then he wanted to marry a beautiful bright girl in Jhelum who had done her BA. That set him off to learn to read. Within a few years he had passed his Matriculation examination. He married and took his wife to his dilapidated quarter in the village. He was an orphan so he set about repairing the one-room quarter alone.

His wife headed to her home in Jhelum promising to return only once a proper house was built. So the boy from Dumali launched his plan. He wanted a heavy vehicle licence and was finding a job in Saudi Arabia. My younger brother managed that licence from the District Courts and soon he was off. Now comes a break of over seven years and suddenly Imran, the driver, finds my mobile number and sends me an array of photographs. He shows me his posh two-kanal four bedroom house with the very latest fittings. It was in the final stage of completion, he says. It will match any ‘Seth’s house in Defence’, he claim. The pictures certainly do reflect that.

Then the next day another set of pictures come across and he shows the massive fuel truck he drives. He now works for Aramco and some American ‘goora’ had helped him apply for Canadian citizenship, which has passed the initial approvals. Pictures of his son, again tall and handsome with a cricket bat, are impressive. He has already found a job in Canada as a highly-paid cross-country truck driver.

My wife still lords over him and told him that if he did not give his children the best education, she would not talk to him. He responds: “Begum Sahib, they already go to the best school in Jhelum”. OK, now make sure they go to university, she says. Never short of a response: “Yes, Baji can help for Oxford and Sahib for Cambridge”. His plans are always ready.

The reason the story of Imran was narrated is that there is a greater need to record the achievements of the lesser known. Now let us take the example of Muhammad Hussain, a sergeant major in the Lahore division, who fought for the British in WW1. Many years ago we managed to describe the lives of three soldiers of Lahore’s Walled City who were martyrs at Flanders, as also of Lahore soldiers in Ypres, and other European fronts of WW1. Most never returned. Surely their stories need narrating.

Many years ago as a student in the company of my dear friend Asad Rehman we hitchhiked to Belgium and visited the ‘Indian Trench Museum’ and also spent time at the Menin Gate. The walls are full of the names of the martyrs of the Lahore division who were killed by the thousands. But do we remember them in Lahore? But how could I forget Sgt. Maj. Muhammad Hussain, whose post card we read on the museum wall, and whose name is etched on the famous Menin Gate in Ypres. Yes, officers are recalled every year, but never the soldiers, killed by the thousands.

Once back and on the city beat as a reporter, I managed to trace the house of Muhammad Hussain the ‘martyr’ as an old letter from British days stated to his mother. Except for two old ‘mohallah’ people, no one had heard of him in Lohari Gate. With time even the famous fade, probably the ‘common’ faster. So what if he won the Military Cross, as the Menin Gate etching claims.

Now on to a third example. While travelling across Europe it was stunning to see thousands of Pakistanis who try to make it to a ‘better future’. That drive of poor Pakistanis is something to marvel at. In one incident on the Greek border we were told by a guard just how clever Pakistani migrants are. One comment I can never forget: “They can lie in mud for days and when you search for them they are gone”.

There is also need to remember all those from our land who lose their lives heading westwards. Their drive is utterly amazing and when told of how our political leaders are promising a better Pakistan they use sentences that are best not repeated in this newspaper. A few years ago when in Italy, we met a few Pakistanis who informed that they worked in leather and garment factories. Often the police raid, but before they enter the premises everyone has disappeared. The humour and wit of our people is legendary, so claimed an Italian policeman.

But people like Imran, the driver, is a new breed that has trained and educated themselves to serve in a better-paying environment. At home they have secured their standing and now it is a matter of time for them to jump even higher. Already a lot of highly-educated people head abroad to new lives even though at home they are well-off. This is a field that needs research. But then are we not losing our best.