Mushtaq Soofi
The year is 1766. It’s a small but ancient called Malka Haans, in between more than 1,000 years old Pakpattan and more than 5,000 years old Harappa, the metropolis of Harappa civilisation. A man in his early 40s has been staying here for some time. He is obviously not a local, not even a resident of Ganji Bar, the area with wild growth between the river Sutlej and the river Ravi. He is a stranger, a man from a far-off place called Jandyala Sher Khan, a village in the great Sandal Bar (the swathe of land between the Ravi and the river Chenab) in the precincts of present day district Sheikhupura, close to Lahore, the glorious capital of Punjab.
He lives in an underground cell attached to a mosque. Mosque and its perimeter are where strangers or travellers can stay. No one can push them out of this sacred space. That is the norm. Few can dare to flout the norm. And if they do so, they, people firmly believe, invite the divine wrath. Why this stranger from Sandal Bar is here. Why has he chosen to stay here, nobody knows. But everybody knows that he has come after paying his homage to one of the greatest saints of Punjab and the north India, who also happens to the first classical poet of modern Punjabi language, popularly known as Baba Farid Shakar Ganj. His shrine in Pakpattan is great site of pilgrimage for his votaries who are in huge numbers.
Town people surely know that the man is highly educated and is interested in books. They have been told that the man is from a religious family which though not rich is noble. They see him busy writing. He announces in 1766 that he has finished composing a book, the tale of a legendary upper class woman retold. The woman’s name is Heer and the poet’s name is Waris Shah. In the time to come, Heer came to be accepted as the greatest Punjabi female character and Waris Shah the greatest poet of the land of the five rivers.
It sounds like a piece of fiction. No, it’s not. It’s all real. Waris Shah’s date of birth can be contested but not the year he composed his masterpiece and the place where he composed it. It’s all there in his book that makes a hefty volume. “Sann yaran saye assiyan nabi hijrat, lammay des de vich tayyar hoi / atharan saye thrihan samttan di, Raje Bikramajit di saar hoi”. It unambiguously states that the tale was composed in 1180 Hijra in the South and according to indigenous calendar the year was 1830. According to the Christian calendar, the year was 1766. In the very next stanza Waris Shah says: “Kharal Haans da mulk mashoor Malka tethe shair keeta yaaran waste main / parakh shair di aap kar lain shaaer, ghora pheria vich nakhas de main”.Its loose translation would be like “The famous town of Kharal Haans is where I composed the verses for my friends / Let the poets judge; my horse is out in the public square”.
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What Waris Shah wrote 250 years ago in a small village has stood the test of time. Rather it proved to be the best creative expression of Punjabi genius. The female character created, to be more exact, recreated by this supreme bard is one of most defiant female figures in the literary history that seems even today far ahead of contemporary advocates of gender rights and equality. She embodies not just gender empowerment but also the eternal spirit of human emancipation.
Culturally conscious Punjabis all over the world are gearing up to celebrate the 250th anniversary of Heer Waris Shah. Let us see how the Punjab government and its cultural institutions rise to the occasion. The least the chief minister can do is to set up an institute dedicated to do research on Waris Shah’s Heer. It’s just not a book. It’s Punjab’s socio-spiritual odyssey. — soofi01@hotmail.com
erent malaise; the lust of power. In order to achieve dominant position in the power structure they have given up their language and cultural identity in the name of chimerical national unity. And the means to evolve national unity is faith of course. This is the point where the interests of the Mohajir and Punjabi elites converge. The smaller nationalities of the country especially the Baloch and Sindhis have long sensed the dangers such a canard poses. The Sindhi elite have honed a strategy, political and cultural, to fight the formidable Punjabi/Mohajir politico-ideological force. They have been successful in both political and cultural sense to protect their rights. They have a strong presence in the echelons of power and at the same time have proudly promoted their linguistic and cultural identity.
So what sets apart Punjabis from Sindhis is the difference between Harappa and Mohenjo-Daro. The former remains a heap of ruins disowned by Punjabis, left at the mercy of elements. While the latter is ever conspicuous at the cultural landscape, owned and protected by Sindhis. Their politics invigorates their culture and their culture enlivens their politics. The Sindh Festival, conceived by young Bilawal and his team, arranged recently at the ancient place of Mohenjo-Daro, displayed the politics of culture and culture of politics which the Punjabi biggies are totally incapable of. Could Punjabi politicians like ex prime minister Raja Pervez Ashraf, Aitzaz Ahsan and Qamar Zaman Kaira, who flanked their young Sindhi leader at the festival, think of doing such a cultural show at Harappa? No. All Punjabi political leaders including the heavyweights of the PML-N, the PPP, the PTI and the PML-Q are brain dead. What can one expect from the dead except the stench of decomposed remains? — soofi01@hotmail.com