Being a Hindu in Pakistan – by Marvi Memon
The writer is a PML-Q MNA [email protected]
It’s not easy these days being a Hindu in Pakistan. The number of cases of members of the Hindu community being kidnapped for ransom is on the rise, both in Sindh and in Balochistan. While recently attending a meeting of the National Assembly’s Standing Committee for Law and Justice, I realised that a stringent law was already in place under which a person convicted of this offence could be sentenced to life in prison or even death. As usual, the discussion revolved around the fact that while we had good laws, they were not being implemented.
Personally, I am against capital punishment — and the logic is quite straightforward: since we don’t give life, we have no right to take it away. And hence life imprisonment is acceptable but not capital punishment. However, the rise in cases of kidnapping, often of children, has altered this view. Those who kidnap people for ransom need to be dealt with a heavy hand, more so because in Pakistan where we hardly ever see anyone punished for this crime. In August, before the floods had hit Sindh, I visited a Hindu Sindhi family in Kashmore whose six-year-old had been kidnapped. The state of the mother was enough to convince me to press for severe punishment as a deterrent to stop this kind of crime.
I was told that Hindus were being targeted because, by and large, they lacked political clout and made for easier targets. Furthermore, those involved in kidnapping for ransom often had connections to powerful people, and this explained why, in most instances, the kidnappers were never caught.
The tragedy is that as a result of these kidnappings, many Hindu families have migrated to India. After all, it is better to live in another country than in perpetual fear. This is the biggest failure of the so-called Islamic Republic of Pakistan — that its minorities don’t feel safe on their own soil.
Clearly, the government’s package, called ‘Aghaz-e-Huqooq Balochistan’ has not achieved much in that province. For instance, in 2009 a 13-year-old was kidnapped and released after a ransom of Rs1.8 million was paid. Another Hindu was kidnapped from the busy Sariab road and released after a ransom of Rs4.2 million was paid. A Hindu man was kidnapped and released after his family paid Rs1.5 million. A Hindu shopkeeper was asked to pay Rs6million at which point he migrated to India — this happened in August of this year. And this is just a partial list.
The Hindu community is peaceful — so what is its biggest sin? It is a minority in a land where there is no rule of law. All that is needed is the political will to go after those involved in these kidnappings — the incidents will stop and our Hindu compatriots will stop fleeing to India.
Published in The Express Tribune, October 20th, 2010.
Media’s role in promoting religiosity
Media’s role in promoting religiosity
The writer is a former vice-chairman of the HRCP and has spent over three decades in advertising [email protected]
When Pakistan Television (PTV) started broadcasting in 1964, the few hours of transmission would commence with recitation from the Holy Quran. It was a short, perfunctory acknowledgement of Pakistan’s status as a Muslim-majority state. Ramazan and Muharram were also appropriately observed. On Christmas, the token programme on the significance of the day was broadcast, though the airwaves remained dominated by programmes on Jinnah’s birthday.
Advertising, too, was free of any religious images and messages. In fact, PTV’s code prohibited the use of mosques, azan, images of namaz, etc in advertising as it was considered an exploitation of religion for commercial purposes.
So when did the airwaves of Pakistan succumb to religiosity? Veering towards religion in programming was really more of a conscious decision. Since all insidious developments are rightly blamed on the military regime of General Ziaul Haq, so should the ‘Islamisation’ of the electronic media. In retrospect it appears that the introduction of the mullah to the idiot box was just the beginning of a trend that would have more dangerous repercussions in the coming decades.
One of the earliest programmes that promoted the most conservative interpretation of Islam and sharia was the series of lectures given by our first televangelist, Dr Israr Ahmed. His programme, “Al Huda”, quickly became popular among those in whose minds Zia had already planted seeds of doubt about what ‘true’ Islam was all about. Women’s rights, even the curtailed version granted to them, were definitely anti-Islam and those women active in the nascent women’s movement of the early 80s were special subjects of his ire.
With the advent of private television channels, the commercial potential of religion as a programming component struck media owners. The ground, as they knew, had already been laid in previous decades. From dars get-togethers to the lecture circuits of Farhat Hashmi, the middle-upper classes had already become deeply hooked on to religion.
The rabid opinions on Islam, expressed on most private television channels, soon made the government-owned PTV appear as a model of liberalism. Moreover, the incessant onslaught of religious programmes (or references to religion) on the electronic media has diminished our society’s capacity for rational thinking. Today, most debates in Pakistan are conducted in the context of Islam and sharia — from matters of every day life to issues of women and minority rights. Even more troubling are the narrow confines within which these discussions are held; the differences that arise are generally over interpretations pronounced by various clerics hogging the airwaves. While religious programmes spread religiosity and consequently enlarge their viewership, channels use this creation of ‘demand’ as a reason for the ‘supply’ of more religion.
The precarious consequences of treating religion as primetime entertainment have not been studied in depth in Pakistan. However, the link between growing intolerance and religion on air has been clearly established. In September 2008, Amir Liaquat in his talk show, “Aalim Online”, on Geo appeared to endorse the killing of Ahmadis. Some days later, three members of this community were murdered in different parts of Sindh. Neither Geo nor Liaquat showed any remorse. Liaquat’s popularity rating remained high and the channel continued to promote his show through large billboards. In drawing room conversations, references to the sayings of Amir Liaquat are even now fairly common. Musharraf is reported to have wept while watching some of his programmes, just as Zia shed tears during the sermons of Dr Israr. However, the nexus between military dictators and televangelists should be discussed elsewhere.
It is not difficult to see where bigoted opinion expressed on primetime television is leading the country. Attacks on non-Muslims are on the rise, as are incidents of sectarian killing. Self-regulation is unlikely as the propagation of religion is bringing in hard cash for many channels.
Published in The Express Tribune, October 19th, 2010.
http://tribune.com.pk/story/64220/medias-role-in-promoting-religiosity/
Losing my religion
George Fulton
The writer is a freelance print and broadcast journalist [email protected]
My recent brush with Death was so close I practically saw his cloak and scythe. After passing the Abdullah Shah Ghazi shrine I heard a loud, dull thud. Twin suicide bombers had blown themselves up by the entrance, killing at least 10 people and injuring 60. Thirty seconds earlier and this newspaper may have been looking for a new columnist.
Arriving home that night, my distraught wife threw her arms around me and thanked God for my safety. Why thank God, I flippantly thought. After all it was in God’s name that these delusional teenagers were killing themselves and attacking a shrine of supposed heretics. Whilst my wife was giving sadqa, the first few lines of John Lennon’s humanist prayer, “Imagine”, popped into my head.
Living in Pakistan and witnessing regular despicable acts done in God’s name has severely tested my faith. Nor has it been just the acts of violence that have fed my doubts, everyday life has also had an impact. I resent how we are defined and labelled by our faith. For something inherently so private it came as a shock arriving in Pakistan to be constantly asked by strangers what my religious beliefs were. “Why does it matter?” became my stock reply. But whether we like it or not in Pakistan we are defined by our religious beliefs. An office janitor used to warmly greet me each morning with a hearty “Brother George”. One morning the salutations stopped. Upon inquiry I found he was upset with me. He had discovered I wasn’t a “Brother”. Although I was still the same person, in his eyes I had irredeemably changed. Why did our friendship become tainted because our beliefs differed?
Nor am I alone in having my beliefs shaken. Anecdotal evidence suggests more and more Pakistanis are having moments of spiritual doubt. Whilst there is no empirical evidence available, it would be interesting to know what effect, if any, the recent upsurge of violence has had on people’s faith. What is certain is that the public practice of religion is not what it was. This paper carried a recent poll in which 54 per cent of participants no longer felt safe visiting their mosque/place of worship. Thirty years ago, practicing one’s faith openly in Pakistan did not endanger your life. We had religious harmony in cities such as Quetta, Multan, Sukkur between the various sects. In these cities, there were (almost) joint processions conducted amongst Shia and Sunni worshippers. Up until a few years ago, a contingent of Sunni volunteers would help marshal Shia processions in Karachi. Sufi shrines bustled with worshippers without fear of attack. But that was then. Today Zia’s children roam amongst us.
The irony is that since Zia’s desecration of moderate Islamic thought, more and more of us are practicing our faith at home, away from harm’s way. So whilst Islam is more visible in the public sphere — ayats on billboards, the azaan in shopping malls etc — fewer people are comfortable displaying their faith openly.
It hasn’t just been Pakistan that has been adapting to the role of religion in public life. Post-9/11, the west has witnessed a polarising debate on religion’s role in society. Strident atheists such as Richard Dawkins and Christopher Hitchens have written polemical tomes lambasting the role of religion. Meanwhile, believers have countered with their increasingly shrill works. But where does that leave those who believe, but who are fed up with their faith being hijacked by extremist using it for political gain?
Following the blast, it was only after seeing my son I offered up a silent prayer to my Maker, quietly thanking Him for sparing me. That night, having prayed for those who had lost their lives and the survival of the injured, I offered up one final prayer. I prayed that I wouldn’t lose my religion.
Published in The Express Tribune, October 20th, 2010.
http://tribune.com.pk/story/64801/losing-my-religion/
good to see marvi writing on this important issue and supporting abolishment of capital punishment.
link shared by our friend Net Engr
http://www.bbc.co.uk/urdu/pakistan/story/2008/12/081216_hindu_marriages_fz.shtml
http://www.bbc.co.uk/urdu/pakistan/story/2008/11/081126_sindh_kidnapping_rh.shtml
http://www.bbc.co.uk/urdu/pakistan/story/2008/08/080823_hindu_boy_poverty.shtml
http://www.bbc.co.uk/urdu/pakistan/story/2008/05/080505_hindu_widow_rh.shtml
http://www.bbc.co.uk/urdu/pakistan/story/2007/03/070318_hindu_temple_rs.shtml
http://www.bbc.co.uk/urdu/pakistan/story/2007/02/070208_hindu_engineer_father_ra.shtml
http://www.bbc.co.uk/urdu/pakistan/story/2007/02/070207_hindu_killed.shtml
http://www.bbc.co.uk/urdu/pakistan/story/2006/10/061019_hindu_community_ra.shtml
http://www.bbc.co.uk/urdu/pakistan/story/2005/09/050915_hindu_girl_rs.shtml
Marvi Menon sheds magarmachh ke aansu
(Suar)ya sheds anus kay aanso!!
What is (suar)ya doing on Pak Blog??