Not long ago, just in 1965, India attacked Pakistan. We marched towards Wagah with clubs and hockeys in our hands to fight India. We were stopped at Shalimar Garden. We collected hundreds of thousands of quilts and beddings for the army stationed on our frontiers following September, 1965.
Noor Jehan and others sang songs day and night to boost the army. We used to collect thousands of freshly prepared ‘deghs’ and despatch to the jawans on borders. Women threw their bangles and rings off their hands in military trucks to exchange them for more bullets and arms. We used to have feasts in the city during blackouts. M M Alam complained that he had difficulty firing at Indian planes in a dog fight over Lahore, when he noticed thousands of people on roof tops down below.
People of all walks of life went house to house collecting whatever they could to buy more ammunition. There was no rich or poor. The army trucks passing through the streets of Lahore were showered with fresh flowers and roses. They were not men and women, young and old, Christians or Muslims, Sindhi or Punjabi or Pathans or Balochis. Professionals who are traditionally isolated in society came on streets in public with just one song ‘Jag utha hai —’.
Recalling these golden days, I wonder sometimes that do Zardari, Gilanis, Rehman Malik, Dr Babar Awan, Dr Firdaus, Asfand Yar, Bilores, Sharmila, Shazia Marri, Nawaz Sharif, in fact all of them, know the history of Pakistan? Are they Pakistanis?
AMJAD H MIRZA
Lahore
