'Don't talk about Taseer's assassination, the blasphemy law, the lawyers supporting Taseer's killer, the fanaticism of mullahs nor the murders on the streets of Karachi,' said an old 'uncle' I called on. That was a long list of don'ts from a person who loves to discuss such themes as a rule.
The aged gentleman who has seen enough horrors in the course of his long life was finally fed up with bad news. "Tell me anything that will make me smile, make me laugh, make me forget this madness," he said.
As I had come prepared to chat about the bad news, I was dumb founded for a while. Horridly I did a mental search for some happy news. I could have made him laugh by recounting some of the funny Zubeida Apa ke totkey but I do not have a joke-telling equation with 'uncle'. He would have been quite shocked. So I started by telling him antics of my sister's six-year-old grandson. That brought a smile to his face, but I could see he was merely being polite; actually he was bored. To tell you true, even I get bored when people bombard me with stories about their babies and grand babies.
I was in a panic, for what good news was there? However, I got an opportunity to do a little thinking as his doctor called and I could scan my memory for some morsel of good news while they were busy. Surprisingly I did find plenty of pleasant things to discuss with 'uncle'.
After the doctor left I talked to uncle about Noor Jehan. There was a special memorial programme about her songs on Radio. He enthusiastically told me as a young boy he had seen Anmole Ghari fifteen times just to hear the song: 'Awaaz de kahan hai'. He was absolutely thrilled that the film was being shown in Karachi. He insisted I see it, it was a classic. I promised I would. I told him they had even put up an exhibition of old posters of the film and posters, too, were a bit of history worth seeing, he said. Suddenly the old man was animated and impishly recalled all the tricks he did to escape from home to go see the film and how once he stole money for the ticket from nanijaan's (his) paandaan.
I told him the National Academy of Performing Arts (NAPRA) had staged an Urdu version of the Greek play Oedipus Rex by Sophocles. He mentioned something I already knew, told to me by a professor who taught us Drama for BA. Hons. at the Karachi University. But it is a thought provoking observation worth recounting here. 'Uncle' said great tragedies were written only in optimistic times, when there was prosperity and intellectual flowering, such as the Elizabethan Age that produced William Shakespeare. Because the optimistic purpose of tragedy is to bring about catharsis, that is, an awareness of the benefits of goodness and an abhorrence of evil. Yes, Karachi certainly needs such a catharsis, said 'uncle'.
Before thoughts of Karachi's plight made him morose, I changed the subject and chirpily mentioned that our fishermen had taken to scuba diving, and snorkelling. This pleased him. He began to talk about how we have neglected the development of water sports, but now perhaps things would change. They will, I said, and told him about an Australian who was trying to introduce surfing, he had already trained some Makranis and DHA boys.
Next was the sports festival at the Karachi Press Club. This was old news, no doubt, but I had never previously told him about it. I told him about the enthusiasm of old and new club members to participate in the festival. I told him that before the festival I tended to look askance at the new members, a generally boorish lot lacking the cultural finess of older members. I told him that interacting with new members in the chess tournament made me realise new members were not such a bad lot after all. Even before I had finished my observation he was pointing a finger, jabbing it, to indicate that was exactly what he was about to say himself. "It is not the winning or losing, it is the sporting spirit that is important," he said.
I did my best to keep the sports talk to casual simply-for-fun club type events rather than serious national-level sports such as cricket, football or hockey which at national level is mostly bad news. Even if occasionally there is a ray of goodness, it is best to avoid the subject when a person does not want to hear any bad news.
Next on the list was latest fashion in women's clothes. This was done deliberately to provoke him to launch into his favourite criticism of you women! I was wearing the old short kameez and shalwar but it did not stop 'uncle' from condemning me along with the fashion-mad female horde. "You women will wear anything just because it is fashionable. Look at those silly hems and those silly pajamas; they are so unelegant. Don't you women ever ask menfolk what they think of your fashions? If you really want to know how you look, ask a man." He added that women should not ask husbands, male colleagues or friends how they look.
Honest opinion would only come from a sibling, "Ask your brother," said 'uncle'. I told him I did, but no matter what I wore my brother always said I looked horrible. "You Women!" said uncle again. He was thoroughly enjoying condemning the lack of fashion sense of the female race.
His nurse, who saw me out, said she had not seen the old man so happy since many months. He was not the only one who was elated. I too felt happy recounting pleasant things.
Of course one cannot ignored bad news permanently, but I think we have overdone our interest in bad news. There is need for a break. Psychologists say bad news can cause serious pathological depression even if the news does not personally affect one. The only way out is to dwell on something happy, especially in times when one hears of things one knows one can do nothing to change from bad to good.