It is spring time in Lahore. Bright green shoots emerge from its majestic trees. To many in India, Lahore remains special. There’s a Punjabi expression, ‘Lahore lag gaye’ (Lahore has happened). It translates as something very fortunate happening suddenly. Lahore’s residents are proud of their city and never miss an opportunity to quote Faiz’s mellifluous praise of it. So when one finds oneself smelling tear gas in the air and watching ambulances siren their way down the Mall Road leading to the Lahore High Court, one can interpret it as the despair of a people under siege or as evidence of an inchoate desire for change. This is an account of four days spent in Lahore. I was there to attend a regional consultation, organised by South Asians for Human Rights (SAHR), an organisation chaired by I.K. Gujral. Of course for the Indians the biggest hurdle was to procure visas. I was among the lucky few who made it: 110 visas were requested by Indians for this consultation, only 38 were granted. The theme of the consultation — ‘Deepening Democracy, Strengthening Human Rights and Celebrating Diversity’ — had more than a shade of irony, given the gathering storm on the street. THURSDAY, March 15: What strikes one at the Attari-Wagah border, is how carefully choreographed is the hostility between India and Pakistan. At Attari, India proclaims itself the world’s largest democracy. At Wagah, Pakistan claims to be the door to freedom. The ritualistic enactment of the ‘retreat ceremony’, every day at 5 pm, draws crowds. Otherwise life goes on in a familiar pattern on both sides of the border and the fields bearing a ripening wheat harvest testify to this similitude.As we head for downtown Lahore later that evening, the bright, neon lights along the nehar — the canal that threads its way through the city — provide a festive touch. But already there are rumours of a crackdown. Late at night, several lawyers have been detained pre-emptively. They, along with opposition parties, are planning a black day tomorrow to protest the treatment meted out to Chief Justice Iftikar Muhammad Chaudhry. FRIDAY, March 16: Along the Mall Road, one can spot the ranks of the riot police in their black shirts and khaki trousers. They wear the word ‘Police’ prominently on their backs, as if there’s doubt about their identity. At the conference Asma Jehangir, the vice-chair of SAHR, expresses her irritation with the visa regime which blocks free movement between South Asian countries. “We expect the governments in the region to set up a transparent system of governance,” she says. C.K. Lal, a senior Nepali journalist, points to the democracy deficit in every South Asian country. Aruna Roy from India, who almost did not get her visa, underlines nevertheless that democracy, with all its imperfections, is the only option for non-violent governance. I make my way to Mall Road. Barbed wire has suddenly bloomed on traffic roundabouts and serried ranks of police form outside the handsome colonial edifice that houses the Lahore High Court. The police look formidable. Come closer and you’ll see young, raw-boned men, some sporting beards, clutching their riot-protection shields. Like police everywhere in the subcontinent, they function like unthinking putative machines driven by “higher ups”. The sound of the police sirens reminds pedestrians — ordinary people eating kinoos near a fruit cart or buying a plate of biryani peddled from the boot of a Suzuki van — that their lives in a sense are not their own. As someone put it, there may be a shortage of onions sometimes, but there is never a shortage of rubber bullets. Sardar Latif Khosa, a prominent Lahore lawyer, among others, is badly beaten up for attempting to march to the Punjab Assembly.Back at the conference hall, everybody knows violence has broken out. I speak to veteran journalist I.A. Rehman. He minces no words: “This is a no-win situation. In 1999, some thought Musharraf could do some good. But bad instruments never produce good results.” What’s interesting though is that most Pakistanis are not reluctant to speak out, even after I introduce myself as an Indian journalist. Retired air marshal Zafar Chaudhry tell me that “Pakistan’s misfortune is that many of us have great faith in political parties, but they simply aren’t there”. Cecil Choudhry, a senior airforce officer, much feted here for having shot down an Indian aircraft during the 1965 war, believes that “the treatment accorded to the chief justice has shaken the very foundation of this country”. This willingness to go on record seems to point to a culture of relative openness. “This is a tribute to the Musharraf years,” observes a Musharraf sympathiser, “he is a liberal.” Difficult to believe this though when news came in later in the afternoon that the offices of The News and Geo TV in Karachi were vandalised by the police. Ghazi Salahuddin, editorial director of the Independent Media Corporation Ltd, which runs Geo TV, believes “this is a self-inflicted wound, and it could eventually prove fatal”.SATURDAY, March 17: That the police could have, on their own, stormed a powerful media house without instructions from the very top strains credulity. But that’s exactly what Musharraf and Prime Minister Shaukat Aziz claim. Musharraf, who had worn his uniform when he sacked the CJ, now appears on TV in a pathan suit, addressing a public meeting near Chak-20, Pakpattan. “I was only discharging my constitutional duties by submitting the reference against the chief justice to the Supreme Judicial Council (SJC),” he protests, “We will abide by its decision.” He condemns the attack on the media house but adds that his government has taken prompt action.Some 14 policemen involved in the incident have been suspended. Yet all but one of them are lowly constables. An autorickshaw driver, nods his head in response, “Yes. They first do mischief and then deny everything.” The government has also changed its position on the chief justice. He has not been dismissed, it now maintains, he has been sent on “forced leave”. The chief justice has proved to be a harder nut to crack than earlier envisaged.SUNDAY, March 18: Perhaps it’s because it is Sunday, but the tension of the last few days seems to have dissipated somewhat, with an ubiquitous sense of cynicism replacing it. A passerby in a local bazaar, observes with resignation, “Jiska lathi, uski bhains” (the buffalo belongs to he who wields the stick ). A resolution read out at the conclusion of the SAHR consultation speaks for an entire region, but seems to have a special resonance in Lahore: “A vibrant democracy is one that respects differences, tolerates dissent, is responsive to the public voice.”The question is, has wily Musharraf won this round? No, says Shahansha Shumai Paracha, an advocate with the Lahore High Court, this is just the beginning and Pakistan’s lawyers are planning a national agitation for Wednesday. Will it snowball into a process that will finally unseat Musharraf and usher in another tryst with democracy? The skies have suddenly become overcast — unusual for March. Like the weather, politics in Pakistan remains unpredictable.
