Transform-ing Makli
“It seems like I am the only one here who’s dressed like a tourist,” observed X as she watched latecomers coming up to the Karachi Press Club early morning, on March 12.
The occasion was our trip to Gharaan Jo Melo - Family Festival in Makli planned in collaboration by Starlinks PR and Events and Heritage Foundation Pakistan. The comment described exactly why we had showed up in the numbers that we did. We - bloggers, journalists (print as well as electronic), and other individuals associated with PR in some way or the other - were tourists, drawn by different reasons, even if we weren’t all dressed like one.
“I imagine it as a place with no shopping mall and no Wi-Fi?” said Y in deep thoughts of her own.
The comment made me cringe. I guess this is what happens when organizers are not careful as to who makes it to their guest lists. Then again, if the event had been properly planned to begin with, they would have considered that empty stomachs and a long drive do not make good companions on road before asking them to turn up early morning on a weekend! It’s not rocket science.
Those of us who’d been expecting a colourful ambience, some form of entertainment, stalls sprawled over a vast piece of land were sure to have been disappointed. Families were there but there weren’t many activities to engage them in, no fun opportunities to add spark to their dull routine.
The attendees, locals and the guests from Karachi and a handful from other nearby urban places, were all seated inside a tent. According to Shanaz Ramzi, it had taken the villagers a week to clean up and get the place ready for the occasion. There were a couple of speeches to celebrate their ‘self-reliance initiatives’ project, which consist of skill training for chulas and toilets to both earn themselves a livelihood and improve their lifestyle - a very constructive initiative, indeed. The highlight of the programme was a performance by the children, eclipsing - if not matching - that of Tipu Sharif. There was also an awards distribution ceremony that followed to honour community role models and their service to introduce self-reliance in the district.
After lunch, we were entertained by the tour of Makli Necropolis.
Makli, with its numerous graves of princes, rulers, mendicants, and saints, qualified for UNESCO’s World Heritage List back in 1981. Its silence notwithstanding, the area of around 12km, remains a treat when you travel in a group and have someone with a DSLR-wala camera to click away your perfect selfies, especially when you pose in the restricted area of the tombs. Yes, of course, the enchanting artwork and the equally fascinating, traditional and geometrically arranged, construction demanded a closer look on your part.
Life is a series of firsts, from first experiences of the unique embellishments and remains of the city to first disappointments. The extreme polarities witnessed were anything but non-political. Consider the fact that children who were not familiar with patriotic tunes could croon Honey Singh’s songs to perfection in the same breath; women who were not Urdu-literate could make use of the language when begging for their benefit; the community as a whole that did not have a roof or a latrine had a TV to woo them whenever they had electricity.
We learned that the NGO in charge of the ‘prime properties’ had gifted a small accommodation to the oldest resident (a 100-year old woman). However, what is really needed is a boundary wall to this historic place to safeguard it. The perk I enjoyed was a pocket map of Makli - and of course, this special account of various changes to our rich heritage:
“Bohat pehle ayi thi bachpan mein, school kay sath, bohat badal gaya hai...pehlay bohat acha tha...” lamented Z on the way back.
If it’s true, and if we are to believe that a Dutch ambassador who fancied the site so much that he did not want to go and leave this wonder behind, then much is yet to be done to restore this magnificent ruin to its former glory.
