PART TWO

Personalities

The Days of the Siraj  and "The Spinster"

The Ravi , the literary journal of the Government College, Lahore, was first published in 1911. However, its latest edition, volume 75, November 1986, was received only the other day, and a review was requested.

          In my time, The Ravi editors were too snooty to bother about what the others thought of them. No reviews were ever solicited. The Ravi had Guru Dutt (G. D.) Sondhi as its first English section editor; Mr. Amar Rashid Sheikh is the 65th.

          Its first woman editor was Urmila Sondhi (1945-46) but after Independence, there have been many more. Promilla Thomas (1952-53) was the first, followed by Zainab Husain (1964-65), Nigar Ahmad (1966-67), Samina Husain (1967-68), Samira Malik (1975-76), Amna Khan (1977-78), Zahra Samina Hassan (1979-80), and Shela Imdad (1983-84).

          It is interesting to note that almost all editors of the magazine made a name for themselves in later life in all fields except journalism. None of them ever rose to head any newspaper of national or even local importance. The only exception is Mohammad Idrees (1955-56). He is very nearly at the top but not quite. Mr . Mohammad Haneef Ramay (Editor, Urdu section, 1955) did found the Musawat but he never was a journalist as such. The magazine does not list its Punjabi and Hindi editors. The Ravi used to have five sections before 1947 English, Urdu, Hindi, Punjabi, the Persian, and Gurmakhi scripts.

          And now about the volume in hand. Most of the contributors are ex-Ravians and the issue, therefore, is rather unrepresentative of current thinking on the G.C. Campus. Among them are such famous names as Aslam Iqbal, Kamal Azfar, Nigar Ahmad, Javed Altaf, Daud Kamal, Taufiq Rafat, M. Athar Tahir, Dr. Pervez Hassan, Dr. Zafar Altaf, Prof. Ashfaq Ali Khan, Dr. Imdad Husain, and Mr . Arshad Husain in the English section. The Urdu and Punjabi sections, too, have dozens of senior contributors, including members of the faculty. In my time, this would have been inconceivable. I keep saying "my time," because I too, am an old Ravian; but my name appears on no roll of honour at the G.C. I was a backbencher by birth and I remained one at college.

          The latest issue of The Ravi  makes nostalgic reading. I like Mr . Aslam Iqbal when he says, "education starts deteriorating the moment you have stopped having anything to do with it." And I share his anguish at the "indiscipline and violence that he become the hallmark of our educational system."

          In a witty "remembrance of things past" Mr. Kamal Azfar talks of the Siraj days and of Miss Mangatrai, the Kinnaird Principal, whom the great professor used to call "That Spinster" because of her overprotective attitude towards her brood. He finds that women were "scarce and arrogant" in his days. Or perhaps one or two of Mr. Azfar's romances might have gone unrequited.

          Mr . Kamal Azfar defeated Dr. Khalid Saeed Butt to the office of Union President "by the biggest majority in the college history." If that is so, he owes at least six votes to me. Backbenchers always count at election time.

Mr. Azfar's explanation of the Khalid Saeed Butt debacle can be readily corroborated. "Khalid is and was quite handsome but he made an unfortunate error in claiming that he could win all the ladies' votes with one smile. This news travelled into the ladies common room and cost him many votes."

          And friend Mohammad Idrees might find this passage of some interest: "Another dark horse was Muzaffar Qadir, who defeated Mohammad Idrees who must rank with Iqbal Jaffar as one of the greatest English debaters of all time. In the case of Idrees it was a more direct boast regarding "some un-Ravian ladies  that was the cause of the debacle."

          The irony left untold by M r. Azfar is that Muzaffar Qadir and Idrees had common friends among the ladies of which he talks. Only Qadir was a lot more discreet than his opponent at the union hustings. Oh, the days of Muzaffar Qadir. What wouldn't one give to have them back again? Dark he was and handsome but horse he certainly was not because he never drank through his teeth.

          Nigar Ahmad remembers Tariq Ali, her proofreading tribulations, and above all, the GCDC, the Government College Dramatic Club, and Abdul Qayyum Jojo. "A gentler, kinder and more generous man" there never was, and one couldn't agree with her more. But she forgets that Jojo could charm you out to your last penny. Jojo represented "the age of innocence" at G.C. and she couldn't have put it more aptly. He was the prince of the age of innocence and it died with him.

          Nigar Ahmad remembers, too "the gloved, caned and breached figure of the right honourable Muzaffar Abbas" (Editor, 1965-66).

          Javed Altaf talks of Sibghatullah, Khan Zaman Durrani, Jojo, Mian Faruq, and of course, of Khawaja Manzoor Husain; the Principal, under who's stern exterior throbbed the kindest of hearts. He recalls now a long line of distinguished teachers came to an end with the retirement of Siraj, Manzoor, and Ajmal. They don't come like then any more.

          Then comes a lot of poetry from Daud Kamal, Taufiq Rafat, Alamgir Hashmi, M. Athar Tahir, and the others before Dr. Pervez Hassan takes you "Down Memory Lane 1955-59." His days at the Government College were like those of Mr . Kamal Azfar's days of peace and discipline.

          "There were then no arsenals in the hostels. Students those days did not carry guns, daggers, or knives at the campus. They were devoid of the excitement of knowing Kalashnikovs , or being intimidated by those that did. The drug culture was unknown. There were no gangs, no p haddas , no shooting, no campus inspired robberies; and no strikes." What has happened to the campuses in less than the 30 years since Dr. Hassan left Government College?

          Prof. Ashraf Ali Khan bemoans the loss of the Central Model School as a centre of excellence; while Dr. Imdad Husain champions the cause of English as a medium of instruction. Mr . Arshad Husain, who joined G.C. in 1929, reminisces on Prof. Siraj and Firah, Dickinson, M. G. Singh, A. S. Bokhari, and ends with Wordsworth. But yet I know wherever I go, that there hatch past a glory from the earth. The Urdu and Punjabi sections are less evocative and yet there is plenty in them on and by the old masters. In the Punjabi Section, this passage in Prof. Mohammad Abbas Najmi's article on modern poetry in the language caught my eye:

          "An experimental school in modern Punjabi poetry is led by Najm Husain Syed. His role in promoting new poetry cannot be overlooked. Although Najm Hosain Syed's work is not included in the textbooks, he cannot be ignored."

          Well done, Prof. Najmi. Brevity is indeed the sole of wit. Since the 75th volume of The Ravi is full of old Ravians, it assumes historical importance, and thank you Amar Rashid Sheikh for bringing it out. But, as I said earlier, there is very little in it to prove that it was brought out in 1986-87. What are your own contemporaries feeling and writing, Mr. Editor? And one last thing: Since many of the old Ravians belong to the same decade (1950-60), they tend to become repetitive. They remember the same teachers; they recall the same contemporaries. This could well have been avoided had the Editor been more selective than respectful.