Daily Times

Last September, I fulfilled an old dream of mineof travelling from Beijing to Moscow by train and then overland through eastern Europe to Turkey, Iran and a bit more. Before describing this journey,which took me to nearly twodozen countries over 10 weeks, I will begin where my trip ended: in the motherland.Not only had the sights and soundsthatgreeted me at Karachi airport not changed, they were a world apart from the many countries I had just been to, including my last two stops, namely Iran and the UAE, both Muslim countries.

As I entered the passport control area of the airport, surrounded by a mass of ill-disciplined people, I asked the couple of officials hanging about where I could get the passenger arrival cardthat I needed to fill out. They seemed surprised but produced one in the end. On my previous visit, I had been given a departure card to fill out on arrival!The throng — queues they were not — of people awaiting immigration clearance was much worse than I am used to in Pakistan. As luck would have it, I arrived at about the same time as two planeloads of returning hajis (pilgrims), courtesy of Saudi Airlines.What a sight they presented: shabby of dress, ill of discipline, impatient of time and disrespectful of others.

Was their behaviour in spite of the pilgrimage or on account of it, I wondered. One expects hajis to have taken an oath of future good conduct before God but, on the other hand, they might think that having wiped off their past sins through pilgrimage, they were now free to do as they please.

I could not resist asking the person in front of me, who lacked the ferocious look of many ofthe hajis, whether he was returning from the hajj and if this was his first. “No, it is my third, Allah be praised.”“But only one hajj is obligatory, is it not?” I asked. “Yes, but …” he began defensively. Interrupting him, I said that perhaps Allah would be more pleased with him if he had given to a charity all or part of the money he had spent on his second and third pilgrimages.He sheepishly agreed with me. Now, going on the offensive, I thanked him for agreeing with me but added that it was not enough. If he was in agreement with me, he had a duty to propagate this view in future.“You have a point there,”he conceded.

This little victory over a haji compensated for the inconvenience caused by the hajis.When I emerged from the airport building there were a million men and women waiting anxiously to greet the returning holies, blocking everyone’s exit. They screamed religious incantations as soon as one of theirs emerged, beaming with satisfaction and pride. They had reduced an international airport into something of a fish market or a bakra mandi (cattle market)!

Nothing had changed in the motherland.But change there has been.The head covering for ladies (dupatta) is no longer obligatory for television anchors and newscasters. In fact, it is conspicuous by its absence. In both Karachi and Islamabad, the only cities I visited, men and women moved about freely, beard or no beard, burqa or not, dupatta or no dupatta.The big cities now have many modern shopping malls, which have made shopping easier and a much more enjoyable experience- for those who can afford to, that is.For the vast majority, I am afraid, shopping even for the bare essentials is becoming an increasingly tormenting experience, given high prices and widespread unemployment.

With the Margalla Hills as its backdrop, Islamabad is a beautiful city, with better roads, parks and buildings than before. I had occasion to see that the traffic police here are polite and helpful, but strict in enforcing the rules.The streets of Karachi too now look better with leafy trees adorning the dividers.While there is increasing talk of privatisation, Pakistanis still have very few choices when it comes to flying. It is strange that while private airlines flourish elsewhere, they choke in Pakistan. Hajvary, Aeroasia, Bhoja and many others have gone bust. Only two — one and a half really — are now operational, namely Air Blue and Indus.

As on previous visits, I counted the number of planes on the tarmac of the airports in Karachi and Islamabad as an indicator of economic activity. For the world’s 36thlargest country in area and seventhin population, the numbers are depressingly low, no more than five, perhaps fewer, at any given time.The total operational passenger airfleet of the country is less than half that of Sharjah’s Arabian Airlines! The flagcarrier,PIA, may be in its death throes and private airlines may be struggling, but that great symbol of Pakistan, elitism or the VIP culture, is flourishing.

One ‘respectable’ lady — by all appearances a part of the English-speaking elite but devoid of the trappings or the currency of power — angrily complained about having to wait in the departure lounge and demanded of the Shaheen Airlines ground staff to be allowed to board the plane. The ground staff stood their ground with her. However,soonthere appeared a gentleman and two young ladies, with uniformed personnel of some kind to press their claim to board before anyone else. Now, they were a different matter, sothe staff did not question their ‘right’ andallowed the three to board first as soon as the aircraft was ready for boarding.

On the return flight from Islamabad, as every so often, I saw theunderling of a ‘high official’board the plane with the briefcase of his ‘sahib’, who would prefer to board last, after the ‘mob’ had cleared. How could thesahib suffer the ignominy of having to carry his own bag or to rub shoulders with the ordinary public? President Barak Obama has no problem carrying his own briefcase. In fact, everyone in the west, rich or not-so-rich, ruler and ruled, carries his own bag. Not so in the Islamic Republic.

As they say in French, the more it changes the more it remains the same.

The writer is a former academic with a doctorate in modern history and
can be contacted at www.raziazmi.com or raziazmi@hotmail.com