Dilemma of a Capital City

No offence to those who live in Islamabad and those who love the city, but Ayub Khan was the source of much of Pakistan`s lack of progression; Islamabad is a huge reason for that...

Beautiful piece of righting..... by far the most evocative, perceptive description of the great green city that was Islamabad...it has touched my deepest feelings about the city that I love....

The wild and living city that we grew up in, alas, is dying.... every year trees are being cut down or left to the mercy of termite etc...... a culture is being deliberately imported from other cities....the culture of being oblivious of the pleasures of the natural world ...... i see Islamabad`s young growing up without learning to love the wild... without learning to love the deeply satisfying quiet, dark and starry night, without chasing birds in the day or watching flowers or running after pollen blowing with the wind.....

The born-and-bred Islamabadis must do something about preserving the unique culture of our city...

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There are certainly many dilemmas:

-A Capital without its own Railway Station.
-A Capital without its own Airport.
-A Capital without any profound Cinemas remaining.
-A Capital without any cultural foundation and heritage appreciation.
-A Capital without any water resource reservior.
-A Capital without any supporting resource structure of its own.
-A Capital lacking revenue generation schema.
-A Capital dependent in abundance of other provincial authorities.
-A Capital lacking Corporate ideas though infilterated with corporate jerms.
-A Capital without a Central Jail and Mental Hospital.
-A Capital ruled by Military without having a headquarter there and then.
-A Capital without any benefiting housing authourized system for medium income holders.
-A Capital who inherited TV and Radio Station from the low lying Twin Rawalpindi.
-A Capital whose foundation mosque had been the Controversial `Laal Masjid`.

Isn`t it annoyingly beautiful and equally interesting!

And yeah the poem which is categorically wasped for the localites heard from many people about this pahar and paharia dogma:

...

Darakht phuldar nahi
Sarak Humwar nahi
Mausam ka aitebar nahi
Banda WafaDar nahi

...

Muhammed Tariq:

This was a very unique and memorable style of recollecting Islamabad of sixties. The other day I was thinking about Saidpur and here you have given an exotic and tremendous view and thoughts about it...
Yes, you are very true..Islamabad grew up from Aabpara..and this current seemingly ``Parchoon market Place`` was a kind of resort for people of Ramna [G-Sector Greeks]...I loved it when it had an artistic outlook of wide stairs clear and comfortable to wait and sit for a while having your cone-ice cream in early eighties. Aabpara could be a modest spot of intersection of ideas and freedom but the capital development authorites demolished it`s beauty and some rural unsupevised way of dealings ruptured its cosmetics making and made it look like a pan-shop view and constructing parallel dollar-pounds consuming super and jinnah suppers.
However Islamabad still has many beautiful glimpses to care for and live a life to dream for and breath for...
The memories of picking wild flowers and tasting sweet buds are the gems that are hereditary of our flora and fauna...
May Islamabad live long enough and give `Shakti..Sane Power` to its inhabitants to think about a clear, unbiased liveable pleasure where corruption and undue priviliges have no way to grow...
I demise all those people who have bureaucratically ruptured ethnice growing of a city and made it a mall to enjoy and then returned to their rural/urban abode.
Its always a pleasure to meet the grownup generations who have been mentally entitled to Islamabad and accepted it as their native land despite of a long way back they are linked to..
Islamabad is a good change for life and somehow it makes you compete as well...The only bad visible thing that happened to it is the `Afghani` refugee penetration that consumes the resources without any cost and that goes all back to military dictatorship...

~Long live Shehr-e-Khamoshan wa Dil-e-Rehguzar.

My parents decided to move from Pindi to Islamabad when I was in 7th grade. The inevitability of losing all my friends in Pindi, where I had spent much of my childhood until then, was haunting. I protested and pleaded with my parents to stay in Pindi. But in the grand scheme of the life that they were planning for us, my protests mattered little. And then one fine morning, we arrived in our new home. This house was located in the sector closest to the hills. From my room I could see the green margala hills and the white domed Daman-e-Koh restaurant. That first night as I lied down in my bed, missing my friends, I could hear the howls of jackals in the jungle that stretched from near our house to the foot of margala hills. That night if someone had told me that this empty green city would grow on me, I would not have believed him.

And yet it happened. It started with small baby steps. Perhaps it was that trip that our class took to plant trees near Shakkar Parian. Or it was those evenings I spent with my friends roaming in Jinnah Super. Or perhaps that first hike up the hills where I could see the whole green expanse of Islamabad. Or, as I grew older, it was the quietness of the city that I came to appreciate - a marked difference from the hustle and bustle of Pindi.

And then as my life turned, my relationship with city morphed into yearly trips between US and Islamabad to visit my family. In US, my being from Islamabad put me in a unique category among Pakistani foreign students in university. It seemed that most of the Pakistani students were from Karachi, with Lahore being a close second. Often, they would form their groupings along city lines. I rarely met foreign students from Islamabad, which is quite understandable since it is still one of the smallest cities in Pakistan.

In summer of 2001, as I sat in my lawn in the early dawn during one of my yearly visits to Islamabad, my mother brought me mangoes and kharbooza in a tray. It had rained the previous night and the grass was still wet. The sun had not risen yet. In the many trees around my house, I heard the sounds of many types of birds. In the near distance, I could see the washed and green slopes of Margala hills. It was then that a thought came to my mind - I was so thankful to my parents for moving us to Islamabad.

Re: # 10



.......... and what about karachi company

............. isn`t that in islamabad too ?......... it is a disgrace and somone in cda should be shot for letting it get to this point ........ and last summer half the ``plazas`` in blue area did not have water ........ why ? ......... and why did they cut down all those trees along the highway from zero point to peshawar mor ? ........ and when was the last time anyone repaired or painted lal quarters - they are beginning to look like a bombay slum ......

......... islamabad is still probably the nicest place to live, but it has been sliding rapidly ........

Tariq,
Well said,
city has under gone many changes, some good some bad , especially chhoping of green belt is very sad but Authority has to do such changes to main it to look like Capital rather than picnic spot.
I too breded, educated in Islamabad, I love it ,Only I hate traffic and beggers.
One big reason to love it ,my parents are buried in lash green graveyard.

.... wallowing in filth, entrails and blood .........

....... the people of the indian subcontinent are, without any doubt whatsoever, are the filthiest people on god`s green earth .......... they can turn the cleanest, nicest place into a garbage dump in no time at all, and islamabad is no exception ........

.......... in less than two decades all the streams and barani nalas have been turned into stinking sewers and people, who live in half a million dollar homes on dead-end streets, do not even seem to notice the nauseating stench ! ......... and to top it all, they have built parks and bridges across these nallas where they go for an a stroll and a cuban cigar after dinner !

........... and let`s not even talk about the filth on the back side of aabpara and the other commercial areas like peshawar mor ........... and for god`s sake, don`t blame it on the afghans - these poor people get blamed for everything from missing manhole covers to global warming ! ....... even the back side of the blue area is beginning to look a shabby - pretty soon it will be like raja bazar (which actually looks a lot cleaner than it was thirty years ago) ....... and whhy can`t people put their garbage inside the dumpsters instead of all around them - islamabad is the only city that seems to have more dumpsters than you actually need and yet there is garbage all over ........... this january, the day after eid when i went out for a walk in the morning, i was horrified to seehundreds of crows having a feast the entrails of the sacrificial animals ............ and the blood was still flowing in the streets - and this in an area where the smallest house goes for over two crore ........ maybe it is time to stop this senseless killing ..........

....... what is it with the desi gene that just loves to wallow in filth .......... and then they have the audacity to call the poor pig a dirty animal !

Re: # 5

echo,

....... i apologize for shooting a few bunny rabbits in my wilder younger days, but it was a long time ago and, allah ki kasam, i have not hunted since ......... but even though i am not a big ted nugent fan, i don`t think that people who hunt are murderers or worse as long as it is done responsibly ......... personally, i do like to fish - catch and release ........

......... i hope that restores your confidence in me ...........

#7

Did you say ``Is Loo``?

And just when I was beginning to warm up to the city, too!

Darn!

Hey, i`m a born and bred Islamabadi...:) Just love the city....:) Long live Isloo!

Was there a village called Dhamali in the vicinity?

#2 by hamidm2
number 2 maal.

....[.......``people look at you as if you are crazy if you tell them that not so long ago, you could bag half a dozen rabbits in f/8 in less than an hour! ....... now it is a jungle of concrete ....... ``]

Ponder over what you have written.

---

`` I have met the enemy; and it is us``--POGO

As a 4-year old I was told the story of a bangle-seller who carried his wares, in a potli, on his back & went house to house.
A policeman , stick in hand, approached him and striking the potli with his stick demanded to know what is in the potli.

and the banglewallah: `` Mai baap ubb to sheeshoan kay tukRRay haiN, pehlay toa choorRiaaN thheen``


sheeshoaN kaa maseehaa koee naheeN
kyaa aas lgaaey baithhay ho.

---

``KhizaaN tamaam huee, kis hisaab meiN likhhiyay
Bahaar-i gul meiN jo pohnchaiN hai shaakh-i gul ko guzand.``......Faiz.

tr:( paraphrased)
Now that the bad times are over, where in the ledger do we enter the sufferings of those who lost everything to progress.
[Geography lesson: Islamabad is situated between Pakistan & Afghanistan]

Re: # 3

bj ....

that was lovely ! .....

.... see, we are all pretty nice people in real life ........ the chowk just brings out the worst in us

#2 Hamidm2

Sweet dreams are made of these
Who am I to disagree?
Travel the world and the seven seas
Everybody`s looking for something

Some of them want the bunyan tree
Some of them want to get to stream
Some of them want the dragon flies
Some just want monarch butterflies!

Some of them want to hear and hear
Some of them want the barking deer
Some of them even run, run late
Waiting forever for rabbit in f/8!

Half way up and back in the track
Lies the pond that made us crack
Days when walked we - walked so free
Talked berry bush - not GWB!

Minnows that darted between the rocks
Skinny dips many - without the frocks
And what else - can say we, hush
It can make paharia blush!

Keep your head up - move, move so
If you tell - not long ago
You not did just talk, talk, talk
You even did some walk, walk, walk!

People look at you as if you are crazy
When in fact you just bone lazy!

tariq,


.......... this brings back some fond memories ...

...... half way up the track there was a small pond overhung with bunyan trees into which the stream came tumbling down - i can still vividly rember the big green dragon flies and the monarch butterflies that flitted around the berry bushes and the minnows that darted between the rocks ....... on our frequent trips to the top we would stop there and skinny dip to the amazememnt of the infrequent paharia walking down to the city with his axe on his shouder to protect him against the ``sheen`` ....... you always heard about the elusive leopard but i didn`t really believe the paharias until one day, after the sun had already set and it was getting dark, we actually saw one as it darted across the path right in front of us !

.......... and what happened to the barking deer - how come you don`t hear them any more ? ....... and the rabbits in f/8 ?......... people look at you as if you are crazy if you tell them that not so ong ago, you could bag half a dozen rabbits in f/8 in less than an hour! ....... now it is a jungle of concrete .......

........ and sometimes i resent all these people driving up and down to pir shohawa - why can`t they walk like we used to ? ........ it took about 2 and a half hours to get up there and about two to get down, so if you left at nine in the morning you could be back by sunset after a wonderful day among the pine trres at the top ........ now every aira, ghaira, nathu khaira is driving up for lunch and is back in front of his tv within two hours .... what`s the point ?......... i guess it is called progress ...

[One day in the life of a lion is better than a hundred year life of a jackal]

Truer words were never said! Unfortunately, lions get shot down and jackals and hyenas thrive.

The article contains some nice reminiscences! Perhaps you should have kept it that way instead of putting in a pitch about the bad things happening now and then feeling a need to offset it with the “nice” people moving in – all of that is a piece of crock and you know it!

It is human nature to generally remember from childhood only the best images and they remain tucked away – larger than life – unfortunately, there is nothing more disappointing than running into the originals later on in life and then they look a lot smaller! As has been said countless times before – in many ways, one can never go “home” again!