Fifteen years ago when I came to live in Defence Housing Authority and it was Muharram, I waited for the kiddies to appear at the apartment building to demand sabeel ka chanda, funds for a drinks stall set up by children to remember the thirst of Imam Hussain (RA), as the children used to do in all the places I had previously lived, which included Garden West, PECHS, Gulshan-i-Iqbal. No children turned up. In disgust I named DHA "bey hiss Ilaqa" (heartless region).
For the first time this year, on 7th of Muharram the apartment bell rang and two groups of little boys, aged between eight and ten years, looked up and demanded money for their sabeel. I gave money to both groups. They were pleased at the generous amount; what they did not know was how grateful I was they had come.
The sabeel is part of religious culture but in fact it is also kind of pastime of children and a way of getting to know their muhalla, the immediate community where they reside. This is like the American Halloween (literally: holy evening) which also has a religious context but when children go trick and treating they come to know their area. People of all faiths living in the USA participate in Halloween.
The sabeel ka chanda tradition is in all parts of the city, but in all the years I have lived in DHA there was no drinks stall set up by the children. The only reason I could deduce was that the children of posh people were not interested in street-type of activity, especially when like servants, they would have to serve a glass of water or sherbet to wayfarers. It would be below their dignity. As for their parents, if some kids came to ask for a contribution, they would shoo them like beggars.
Another custom not practiced in DHA is cooking the communal pot of heleem, a dish with lintels and meat cooked through the night of nine Muharram and distributed on the tenth. Older muhallah boys collect money and cook the haleem or khichra. The dish is also prepared in homes, but the community haleem is another way of social interaction between the two Muslim sects. In Karachi, if you want to see a really heart-warming scene, you must go to Burns Road in Saddar Town. On the night of nine Muharram the street is lined with fifty to a hundred large pots in which the haleem is being prepared. There is laughter, jokes and fellow feeling among the young lads (and some older men) preparing the dish. But while at least two groups of children have introduced the sabeel custom in DHA this year, the community haleem tradition is still absent. However, the children have shown the DHA heart is warming, although there is a sad incident I must recount later.
The social impact of children collecting funds for their sabeel was brought home to me when I lived in Gulshan-i-Iqbal. The blocks near Rashid Minhas Road were not fully developed and one had to cross the thoroughfare to reach the only shops in the area. Oneday I saw here a policeman looking helpless and holding by the hand a small boy who was weeping hysterically. I enquired what was the matter. The policeman said the boy has forgotten the way home and when asked what is the name of his father could only say "Abboo". I suddenly noted that the boy was from my muhalla as he had come with other kids for contributions for setting up a sabeel. The policeman and I took the child home. The child who also recognised me had stop crying and trustingly went with us. I often think of that boy and wonder what would have happened to him if I had not recognised him. Perhaps the policeman would have taken him to Eidhi. The parents would have missed the child and search desperately. There would be trauma for the child and the parents. I mention this incident to people who oppose the sabeel custom.
On the evening of tenth Muharram I saw a strange sight. A car stop near the greenbelt where children were playing. The boot was opened and a folding table set up on which a pot of water and oranges were laid. Children ran towards this impromptu sabeel and accepted water. Unfortunately, a bearded elder appeared and quietly began to gently shepherd the children away from the sabeel. Realising it was no use to wait, the disappointed people who had set up the sabeel, repacked their things and left.
It was so sad. Even though the bearded elder did not scold the children, nor showed any aggression or disapproval of the people who had set up the impromptu sabeel, yet he had done something that was fanatical. However gently he had herded the children away from the sabeel. It is this type of fanaticism I fear more than the loud harangue of the mullah, more than the Taliban. There will never be peace and tolerance in society as long as this type of sectarianism is nurtured.