Rabwah: an oasis of tranquility amidst raging storms

October 07-13, 2011 Vol. XXIII, No. 34

Blog » By Tariq Bashir

Rabwah: an oasis of tranquility amidst raging storms

Apart of the city caught fire or, more probably, was set on fire and under cover of the fire, a mob started targeting a religious minority killing a few big names of the community. Terrified of impending death at the hands of the baying crowd, the remainder took refuge in a building where the ruler was under a legal obligation to protect their lives only to be butchered on coming out even though they had been promised a pardon if they renounced their faith. 150 people died but the perpetrators were only punished lightly with fines; their biggest protector being the fact that they all belonged to the majority religion of the land. In case you are wondering, no, the incident didn’t take place in Lahore on 28 May 2010 against Ahmadis although the murderous human instincts usually reserved for religious/ethnic minorities, almost similar modus operandi and chillingly identical sequence of events with minor changes remain the same almost a millennium later.

The above refers to the infamous Clifford’s Tower massacre of Jews, one of the fiercest and racist pre-expulsion pogroms in medieval York, England in March 1190 which took place a mere six months after the coronation of King Richard I. Try to change the names, location year and especially the eventual rap-on-the-knuckles punishment for the perpetrators from York in 1190 to almost a thousand years later in Lahore in 2010, you will find overwhelming similarities in both incidents extremely disturbing. That’s not all, identical public opinions , in both medieval England and 21st century Pakistan regarding minorities when they are invariably blamed for being at fault when persecuted is chillingly shocking. Emotional scars are seldom healed especially when the victim is a whole group of people. Human history is replete with such mob killings and the apparent “crime” for attracting such gruesome mass punishment, incidentally, has often been their membership of a certain religion or ethnic group.

Perched on the unenviable position of the most oppressed religious minority in Pakistan by far the Ahmadis of Pakistan have been bearing the brunt of the indigenous clergy’s venom hell bent upon decimating them if they refuse to renounce their faith for almost six decades. A visit to Rabwah in order to get a perspective on things was a must. After picking up my contact, Imran from Chiniot, a small town only a few kilometers apart from Rabwah on the main Faisalabad-Sargodha highway, it was time to enter the leafy hamlet.

Planned and built in the same era with its wide roads, semi curves, neat roundabouts and, amongst others, eucalyptus trees, Rabwah feels like Model Town, the upscale suburb of Lahore. The mid morning sun was fast threatening to assume its furious glow and the tiny puddles of water accumulated from the overnight rain had started to give off steam. Driving through the furrows made in the muddy, half-broken road by vehicles’ tyres near the busy market place with greengrocers hawking their merchandise and men, women and children noisily haggling, the scene could have been that of any small town Sunday market in Pakistan.

In Pakistan’s political calendar 1974 looms large as the year when the society at large happily embraced gradual erosion of its core social values of tolerance and religious freedom failing to cherish and guard the same as happens in most civilized societies. Eversince that lamentable parliamentary over-reaction under pressure from the religious right the collective slow trot on the road to perdition-and now having been worked up into a swift gallop-is dotted with a number of milestones of shame, many stained with the blood of religious minorities.

Like a Mormon town Rabwah’s religious symbols are the first to greet the visitor especially the distinct black caps worn by men and boys making one feel like being in a different place from the rest of rustic, rural Punjab. Even the burkas women wore were cut and stitched in the 70s style as was commonly worn by women of my mother’s generation of the same era when the impossible duality of figure hugging and hijab could go hand in hand. Does that signify the community’s abrupt isolation from the mainstream since 1974 like a clock rendered out of order after a bomb explosion showing the exact time of the blast? Although I did not try to find the answer, privately, my answer to that was a yes.

Mr Khan, the retired, grey-haired civil servant out of the three gentlemen that I was supposed to meet had a more secular and egalitarian outlook on the whole issue. The other two, Shakeel, a prayer leader from a nearby district and Asim, a volunteer in his early thirties seemed more orthodox in their approach in terms of religion to the point of proselytizing. After lunch at Darul Ziafat and during tea and cookies I was shown examples of such milestones, posters inciting people to murder apostate and perfidious fifth columnists Qadianis, discriminatory land auction advertisements expressly excluding Ahmadis from taking part, the kind of overt racism West Indian blacks and Irish immigrant workers had to endure in the 50s London barring perhaps the death threats.

While sitting in the shadow of the portraits of bearded and turbaned religious leaders of the faith, past and present, adorning the walls of the sitting area adjacent to the dining table where lunch was served earlier by efficient waiters, the conversation invariably veered towards religion and theological differences between creeds and sects. Although as per our mutually agreed arrangement only human rights angle of the abuses had to be discussed but the exchange on comparative religions was getting quite engrossing.

On February 27 1842 a brilliant comet belonging to the Kruetz Sungrazing Comet Group passed only 126,000 miles from Sun’s photoshere which appeared to the naked eye as “an elongated white cloud”. Passengers on board the ship Owen Glendower, off the Cape of Good Hope, described it as a “short dagger like object” that closely followed the Sun towards the western horizon. William Sears, an American convert to Baha’ism, mentions this comet in his riveting read, Thief in the Night as a proof of the fulfillment of Biblical and Islamic prophecies concerning the second coming of the Messiah. Intriguingly at about the same time when Baha’ism was being born in Shia Iran Qadiani faith was launched in British India. Even more intriguing was the fact that both claimed the advent of the promised Messiah; I could not help but ask my hosts the obvious question.

“Do you rely on the sighting as a sign of the second coming like the Baha’is?“ No was the definitive answer from Mr Khan, the effete septuagenarian who looked surprisingly fit for his years. “But the choice is between Baha’ism and Ahmadiyya [when it comes to the second coming of Jesus]“, he chuckled with an intelligent shine in his eyes living upto his palpably relaxed demeanour causing a rather long pause of silence in the conversation. Quite frankly, the picture one gets these days of smaller religious groups is that of being increasingly anxious to ensure their physical well being rather than care about their creed being superior, Ahmadis being no exception. When will this atmosphere of intolerance and inhuman hatred ease up and who will pull the plug? The cliched but true answer to the latter part of my question was trotted out by those present in unanimity; the military establishment who propped up the half baked, semi literate mullah to create a perpetual constituency for itself will have to pull the plug and walk out of this dangerous and pernicious state policy.

As our vehicle slowly trudged out of that well kempt oasis of tranquility after saying our farewells amidst mutual feelings of doom and gloom, my mind went back to what Khan had remarked earlier about the westernized liberal elites equally if not more to blame for extremism to take root since they are the ones who have, over the years, kept the dream of rule of law and constitutionalism alive. One could easily add another much bigger section of the population which, dare I say, is the silent majority; those straddling the liberal-conservative divide that usually choose not to voice their concerns when it comes to the constitutional right to life, never mind the freedom to practice religion.

Food for thought? Indeed.

Names of people mentioned in the piece have been changed.

The author can be reached at bashirtariq33@yahoo.co.uk and on twitter @Tariq_Bashir

Copyright © 2011 by The Friday Times, Inc. or related companies. All rights reserved.
URL: www.thefridaytimes.com/beta2/tft/blog.php?blogstory=17

The upset men

October 07-13, 2011 Vol. XXIII, No. 34

View » By Ali Usman Qasmi

What does the early 20th century campaigner and rabble-rouser Syed Ata Ullah Shah Bukhari have in common with Imran Khan? More than you think, according to Ali Usman Qasmi

The upset men

Those cognizant of the towering figure of Sayyid Ata Ullah Shah Bukhari (d. 1961) may consider the comparison of his life and achievements with Imran Khan rather bizarre. Not only because both of them hail from markedly divergent backgrounds and different socio-political temporalities. These points of dissimilarity notwithstanding, their style of politics, I would like to argue, bear close resemblances.

Shah ji used to say jokingly that he spent half his life in jail and the second half in rail, traveling around India to address public rallies

Syed Ata Ullah Shah Bukhari - referred to as Shah ji by his admirers and disciples - was born in Patna in 1892. He was the scion of a Kashmiri family settled in Amritsar - a city where Shah ji spent his childhood and received education in Islamic learning. His political career commenced when the Khilafat movement was in full swing. Shah ji soon made a meteoric rise to fame within the circle of Ulema-led politics of the Khilafat Movement by sheer dint of his fiery speeches. In numerous hagiographical accounts, Shah ji’s charisma is described in a rather Weberian sense with superlative degrees. What gave him a mesmerizing aura over his followers was the gift of the gab. He is described by his admirers as an orator par excellence whose eloquence had no match in the entire subcontinent during the first half of the twentieth century. He used his talents to launch a tirade of verbal assaults against the Ahmadis. He visited every nook and cranny of India to publicly condemn Ahmadis. He used to say jokingly that he spent half his life in jail and the second half in rail, traveling around India to address public rallies. The momentum he built up during the 1930s against the Ahmadis snowballed into hatred and violence against them after the creation of Pakistan.

After the Khilafat movement petered out, Ata Ullah Shah Bukhari remained committed to the nationalist politics of Jamiat-i-Ulema-i-Hind and the Congress Party. It was after the split in the ranks of Congressite Muslims in the wake of the Nehru Report of 1927 that Shah ji seceded along with his followers and like-minded activists to form Majlis-i-Ahrar in 1929. As the name of this organization suggested, Majlis-i-Ahrar (Party of the Free) was committed to fighting against the British for the freedom of India. The Ahrar obsequiously toed the party line of the Congress and in many ways it was, along with Jamiat-i-Ulema-i-Hind, the Congress wing of Muslim Ulema.

Imran Khan is capitalizing on issues which touch an emotional chord among many Pakistanis

Shah ji had an equally spirited party cadre. Comprising mostly of artisans, small traders and peasant proprietors, his followers and party workers supported him vehemently in opposing the creation of Pakistan - often crossing the limits of moral and reasonable criticism of their political opponents.

Imran Khan, on the other hand, is a second-generation Pakistani, born and bred in the affluent environs of Zaman Park, Lahore. He had nominal understanding of Islamic teachings at the elitist Atchison College before he went to Keble College, Oxford, to pursue a degree in Economics and Politics. He pursued a career as a professional cricketer notching up the loftiest feats as a cricketer and also as a captain of the Pakistan cricket team. During his years at the top of stardom, Imran Khan was a playboy whose only sense of identification with Islam was by the symbolic gesture of avoiding alcohol and - according to one of his biographers - drinking milk at British high society parties. But as his adrenaline levels dipped in his late 30s, Imran Khan increasingly turned towards religion to find solace and spiritual mirth. He became a born-again Muslim after ‘rediscovering Islam’ through the writings of Muhammad Iqbal and Muhammad Asad. He read the Quran with translation and commentary and drew inspiration from them. In order to rediscover his ancestral roots, Imran made a trip to the tribal areas where he was fascinated by the simple lifestyle of the Pashtuns, reminding him of the Muslim warriors of yore who had ostensibly been ravaging across the globe for the glory of Islam and not for material gains. His book on the Pashtuns from tribal areas provides an ample testimony of the romantic view that he holds about the people of that region in much the same vein as Sir Olaf Caroe’s book The Pathans.

Imran Khan’s personal and intellectual background has a tangible bearing on his present political stance. As a born-again Muslim, he is obsessed with the idea of bringing about a Muslim renaissance; claiming to be an expert witness of the ‘ailments of the Western civilization’ on account of his personal experiences, he regards Islam to be the sole panacea for the ills that humanity is currently plagued with. Therefore, in his estimation, Islam poses a challenge to the West and its value system in the same sense as articulated by Samuel Huntington; on the basis of his reading of the Quran and as per its injunctions, Jews and Christians, he opines with confidence, cannot be the friends of Muslims. One should, hence, guard against their conspiracies against Muslims and Islam. In the context of Pakistan, it implies a severing of the relationship with the US. This, as argued by him for over a decade now, has to be for one main reason: The war against terror does not belong to Pakistan. It is all about US’s illegal occupation of Afghanistan. Pakistan must stay out of it by denying logistic supplies and access to US and NATO forces from Pakistani ports, airbases and roads. It is by allowing the US and NATO to use Pakistan as a conduit and launch drone attacks against terrorist targets in tribal areas, rationalizes Imran Khan, that the militants have taken up arms against the Pakistani military and civilians and are busy butchering them through suicide bombings. Imran Khan’s recipe for restoring peace in Pakistan is simple: ban drone attacks and block the supply lines to US and NATO. The militancy will peter out on its own. In order to muster public support for this strategy, he is staging dharnas and addressing public gatherings all over Pakistan.

What is common between Shah ji and Imran Khan is the naivety that overshadows their respective political visions and cherished goals. Shah ji was imbued to the core in his hatred for the firangi (British) that he could not withstand a ‘Muslim’ Jinnah steeped in British parliamentary traditions and lifestyle. He found ‘Hindu’ Gandhi and Nehru more amenable to his liking. He believed in Nehru and Gandhi’s assurances that Muslims of united India, with a composite nationalist ambience, would live in peace and prosperity. In retrospect, Shorish Kashmiri - the most loyal lieutenant of Shah ji -lamented the hollowness of such a perception. He ascribed the failure of Ahrar to the inability of its leaders to wean away from the nostalgic clutches of the Khilafat movement. They failed to realize that ‘Pan-Indian Islamic universalism’ had lived out its life. The dynamics of communal strife and economic hardships of the Muslims were lost upon the Ahrar. That particular mindset spawned disaster for Ahrar. After the creation of Pakistan - and especially after the suppression of the anti-Ahmadiyya movement in 1953 - the Ahrar’s cadre was depleted of its verve and gusto. Its workers joined other parties where they carried on with their Ahrari ideology in a dissimulative manner.

The politics of Ahrar has been variously interpreted by scholars. For Markus Daechsel, it is reflective of the general trend in the inter-war period when several semi-fascist, cadre-based groups and parties emerged in India with ‘politics of self-expression’. He describes this concept in contrast to the ‘politics of interest’. A similar mode of distinction is made by David Gilmartin in his assessment of the politics of 20th century colonial Punjab in terms of aql (rationality) and qalb (heart).

The politics of interest was understood by the colonial authorities as the ‘rational’ mode of doing politics whereby the Indian society and its political-actors playing upon a medley of regional, linguistic, religious and caste identities - engaged each other at an electorally competitive level for acquisition of power and patronage for the purpose of furthering their sectional, personal or community interests. The politics of self-expression (or to put it in simple words, the politics of heart) defies such attempts at rationalization of society by invoking the will to power. It thrives on rhetoric and emotional invocation of an idealized, glorious past. It refuses to be woven into a simplistic narrative or sets of explanation. It evades rationality for the purpose of defying the supremacy of its logic in determining the modus operandi of real politik. Through the rhetoric of fiery speeches (like Ahrar), parading of khaki-clad cadres (in case of Khaksar) and invoking tropes and symbols of war, heroic warship and martyrdom, the self-expressionists defied the logic of politics of interests. This explains why people like Maulana Muhammad Ali Johar engaged in such spectacles as promoting child marriage among Muslims as an act based on ‘pure Islamic injunctions’ in defiance to British law prohibiting under-age marriages; Maulana Abul Kalam Azad and Maulana Abdul Bari Farangi Mahali inspired thousands of Muslim families to migrate to neighbouring Afghanistan as India had become Dar-ul-Harb on account of British aggression against the Muslim Caliph in Turkey; most importantly, this explains why Shah ji was spending time between rail and jail in inspiring Muslims on issues ranging from apostasy of Ahmadis to the killing of Rajpal - the publisher of a pamphlet that insulted the Prophet (PBUH).

Like Ahrar and Shah ji, Imran Khan’s politics is the classic example of politics of heart - if this term can be applied in the context of post-colonial, nay, post 9-11 Pakistan. One can say that now the modes of politics are heuristically labeled along the binaries of ghairat and realism instead of qalb and aql. The content of these two, however, have changed little. It too thrives on a rhetoric which emotionally invokes an imagined past of Muslim glory. By centralizing ghairat as the linchpin of his political strategy and panacea for taking Pakistan out of its current moribund situation, Imran Khan’s ‘explanations’ cut across the ‘rationality’ of the proponents of realpolitik in Pakistan. It is through rhetoric and the invocation of ghairat that he seeks to counter ‘liberal fascists’ intent on enforcing their worldview predicated on notions of realism and pragmatism which proposes continuance of Pakistan’s alliance with the US in the war against terror and promotion of a liberal-secular democracy in Pakistan.

In many ways, I find Imran Khan to be doing an Ahrar brand of politics. Like Shah ji, Imran Khan has the charisma and talent of an inspiring speech-maker to impress the masses but not to lead them. He is capitalizing on issues which touch an emotional chord among many Pakistanis. People throng to his dharnas and rallies to catch a glimpse of his persona and listen to his speech. But as Shah ji used to say, people would listen to his speech from dusk till dawn and on the polling day they would quietly vote for the Muslim League. The same seems to be a fait accompli in the case of Imran Khan. Unlike Ahrar, he is bereaved of any ideologically motivated cadre with unflinching commitment. As one blogger described him, Imran Khan can at best be the Prime Minister of the Islamic Republic of Facebook.

Like Shah ji, Imran Khan has great nuisance value as well. He can create a public spectacle of disorder through his following. But Imran Khan’s politics, rhetoric and charisma - similar to that of Shah ji - does not translate into electoral support for acquisition of political power. He can grab votes but not parliamentary seats. Still, its potential for inflicting deep societal crisis cannot be ruled out. This Imran Khan is doing by cultivating doubts in the hearts and minds of ordinary Pakistanis as well military men about the legitimacy of Pakistan’s involvement in the war against terror. His mode of reasoning is simplistic. He describes Pakistan’s involvement in the war against terror as an act of baighairati to acquire US aid money and exaggerates or dramatizes the destruction caused by drone attacks and operations of Pakistan’s army. In doing so, Imran Khan only intends to incite people’s emotions without offering a viable alternative for military operations and economic strategy. This is a classic example of the politics of heart in which there is an emotionally-laden criticism of a certain figure, policy or incident which touches a chord with the larger population without an attempt to offer a constructive line of action or alternative. In the end, this brand of politics does not even yield any significant electoral gains. In case Imran Khan performs better than expected in electoral polls, it would not be without the role and support of Pakistan’s security establishment. Already there are reports in circulation suggesting that Imran Khan is being used to counter the influence of Nawaz Sharif, especially in urban Punjab.

The fissures in Pakistani society will be exacerbated by continuation of such tirades by Imran Khan. In the current state of militant bombings and the trauma it inflicts on ordinary Pakistanis, the effects of such an accentuation speaks for itself. We saw the end product of Ahrar as a legacy of religious intolerance towards the minorities. The path on which Imran Khan is treading may end up in civil war and collapse of military disciplinarian ethics. In order to avoid the retrospective regret of the outcomes of his current politics, Imran Khan better revisit his rhetoric and emotionalism about the war on terror and the anachronistic trope of ghairat in his understanding of politics.

Copyright © 2011 by The Friday Times, Inc. or related companies. All rights reserved.
URL: www.thefridaytimes.com/beta2/tft/article.php?issue=20111007&page=28

A minority without rights

May 27 - June 02, 2011 Vol. XXIII, No. 15

TFT Special

A minority without rights

Yasser Latif Hamdani Last year’s attacks on the Ahmadiyya community are part of a bigger problem where nobody’s places of worship are safe. What is different, however, is the indifference and apathy showed by the administration

Even if Ahmadis are considered non-Muslim, they have rights under the constitution of the Islamic Republic of Pakistan as citizens of Pakistan which have been violated time and again. Ordinance XX of 1984 for example makes it a crime for Ahmadis to even use the Islamic greeting of “Assalamualaikum” and other Islamic symbols and religious verses. This hits at the root of the Ahmadi mode of worship

No Muslim in Pakistan can get a passport unless he signs a statement abusing Ahmadis and their religious beliefs. Therefore, every time the state prints a passport form, it effectively militates against several constitutional provisions and section 295-A of Pakistan Penal Code which safeguards against malicious or willful writings against the founders of any religion practised by a class of persons in Pakistan

“An unIslamic authority can survive but an unjust authority cannot,” said Hazrat Ali (AS), the fourth righteously guided caliph of Islam.

This simple observation has turned out to be true all through Islamic history, most notably in the Mughal Empire. The heterodox Akbar laid the real foundations of the empire on tolerance and justice for all communities in the realm, and his great grandson the pious and orthodox Aurangzeb Alamgir laid the foundations of its disintegration because of his discriminatory and unjust policy against Non-Sunnis and Non-Muslims.

These are poignant lessons for the Islamic Republic of Pakistan - which long fancied itself the successor state of the Mughal Empire and which has since General Zia’s hypocritical Islamisation embarked on a terrible course similar to the end of the Mughal Empire.

May 28 will mark the one-year anniversary of the deadly attacks on Ahmadi places of worship (it is a crime to call them mosques under the draconian anti-Ahmadiyya law, but a rose is a rose by any name). These attacks, just like the attacks on Shia imambargahs and Sunni ibadatgahs, are part of a bigger security problem that the country faces. What is different is the official indifference and apathy for Ahmadis displayed by the administration.

The most haunting thing about the tragedy was the question that the local leader of the Ahmaddiya community asked of the government in a press conference the next day. “You do not consider us Muslims, but at least tell us whether we are citizens of Pakistan.” This question should worry all those Pakistanis who want to see Pakistan a progressive and egalitarian state that treats all its citizens fairly and equitably.

In 1974, Pakistan’s National Assembly declared Ahmadis non-Muslim for the purposes of law and constitution. A legitimate question may be raised as to whether the constitution of Pakistan as framed in 1973 even empowered the National Assembly to exercise the power to ex-communicate an entire sect. The Islamic provisions blended into the constitution were subject to interpretation of all schools of thought that were recognised as Muslim at the time. Therefore, arguably, the National Assembly overstepped its boundaries when it declared Ahmadis non-Muslim.

In 1947, Pakistan had laid claim to Gurdaspur because the “Muslim holy place” of Qadian was located there and Gurdaspur as a whole was Muslim majority only with the inclusion of Ahmadis in Muslim numbers.

Even if Ahmadis are considered non-Muslim, they have rights under the constitution of the Islamic Republic of Pakistan as citizens of Pakistan which have been violated time and again. Ordinance XX of 1984 for example makes it a crime for Ahmadis to even use the Islamic greeting of “Assalamualaikum” and other Islamic symbols and religious verses. This hits at the root of the Ahmadi mode of worship. It defeats the purpose of Article 20 of the constitution which gives citizens the right to practice and propagate their faiths and offends Article 2-A, which after the necessary correction by the 18th Amendment, promises all religious minorities can practice their faith freely.

The Objectives Resolution had been incorporated as Article 2-A by General Zia’s regime. However the word “freely” was omitted in connection with the right of religious minorities to practice their religions and develop their cultures. Since 1974, Ahmadis were a non-Muslim minority and their status was a double-edged sword for the Zia regime. The Objectives Resolution was introduced in its mutilated form only to target them. The 18th Amendment corrected a longstanding wrong when it restored the word “freely”, but the damage had already been done.

In Zaheeruddin v State, the Supreme Court of Pakistan declared that placing restrictions on Ahmadis did not violate the constitutional religious freedom. It was a terrible decision because the majority opinion resorted to using principles of intellectual property law to determine exclusive ownership of religious symbols such as use of Islamic vocabulary for those determined to be Muslims. The judgment also went on to say that a Muslim cannot be but outraged at the use of Islamic symbols by Ahmadis. It goes on to condone acts of violence and religious sentiment used to persecute minorities. Dr Martin Lau, a renowned legal scholar, very poignantly argued that after the aforesaid judgment all religious freedom effectively stands abolished in Pakistan.

Under Article 2-A, the constitution ensures something more than religious freedom for religious minorities - it ensures a special status and requires the state to aid and allow the minorities every opportunity to develop their religions and cultures. When it comes to Ahmadis however, the state goes out of its way to demonise and discriminate against the community. No Muslim in Pakistan can get a passport unless he signs a statement abusing Ahmadis and their religious beliefs. Therefore every time the state prints a passport form, it effectively militates against several constitutional provisions and against 295-A of the Pakistan Penal Code which safeguards against malicious or willful writings against the founders of any religion practised by a class of persons in Pakistan.

By restoring the word “freely” in Article 2-A, the government has given our judiciary another opportunity to correct a wrong that was committed by a martial law regime. The judiciary has to act to safeguard the citizens of Pakistan because the legislature in Pakistan can only go so far. Challenging bigotry is answered with 26 bullets. The minister of minorities was killed for standing up for the original idealism of Pakistan. Under the circumstances, the legislature can only give the smallest of rooms and the judiciary must rush in to re-establish religious freedom which is not only constitutionally ensured in Pakistan, but also part of the International Convention of Civil and Political Rights which Pakistan has signed and ratified.

Till then, the Ahmaddiya community - which played a major role in the making of Pakistan and which has contributed magnificently to its progress - will remain effectively stripped of citizenship rights in Pakistan.

Yasser Latif Hamdani lives in Lahore

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