"I’ve kept some food for you," says Faisal and smiles. "I’ve eaten," I reply. "What did you eat, a pizza or naan chholey?" he asks. "Naan chholey." Faisal laughs and it echoes in the dining room. It’s that infectious, deep-throated laugh, the one which leads to two people being friends. Faisal is in his early thirties, his hairline like so many other thirty-year-olds has started to recede, he wears large round-shaped spectacles which are a little too big for his face and doesn’t smoke. "I brought these glasses from England," he says. "They’re special because they are wind resistant, so when I drive my heavy bike every day the wind doesn’t hurt my eyes."

The other remarkable things about Faisal are that he is a budding Urdu poet, interested in philosophy and also draws. He sketches portraits, mostly of people he knows but the really interesting ones are the ones with religious motifs. "That’s my hand!" he says excitedly. We are looking at one of his sketches titled "My Left Hand," which is a drawing of his left hand, on which there a large circle, inside it says Allah. "Allah tells me everything," and when Faisal says this, his face— always cheerful—turns blank for a second, and then returns. "You want to go outside?" he asks and smiles again.

And while we venture out into the garden and look at the cactus and Faisal recites me a couplet or two he wrote in its honour, my mind wanders towards the dates. "I was born in 1974," Faisal told me, the first time we shook hands. Half an hour later the date changed to 1982, another 10 minutes later the year changed to 1910 and then whenever I asked him his answer would change.

Faisal is one of the 38 patients that live inside Punjab Institute of Mental Health’s (PIMH) Rehabilitation Unit.

Mental illness is perhaps the most stigmatised and least understood of illnesses. But its affect is staggering. According to PIMH, 20 to 25 percent of the total population of Pakistan suffers from psychiatric illness and about 2 percent of children are born with severe mental retardation. PIMH alone houses 1128 (862 males and 266 females) patients at the moment.

While there are many reasons why people find themselves admitted to the institute, deterioration in mental health is commonly brought on by severe economic pressures, fear, and conditions like clinical depression, schizophrenia, maniac depression, borderline personality disorders or even sudden shocks and accidents.

The celebrated photographer Robert Frank was once asked about black and white photography. "To me," he said, "they symbolise the alternatives of hope and despair to which mankind is forever subjected." It perhaps is the clearest analogy one could draw of what you witness once you are inside Punjab Institute of Mental Health’s Rehabilitation Unit.

"The Rehab Unit is what you would call something in between a patient and the outside world," says Saima Majeed, who is the Unit’s clinical psychologist. "It’s a place where those patients who are much better than the ones in the main hospital are referred to. Our purpose is to help them with as much love and support they can get."

Inside, the first impression is that of a classroom, there is a huge hall filled with posters, trophies, chairs and benches. Then there is a bed-section, a dining hall and small badminton court outside.

Patients usually wake up in the morning, have their medication and get some physical exercise. After breakfast they have a library session, an hour and a half where they are taught occupational skills such as painting, ceramics and khaddar weaving, next is a group therapy session, a lunch break. They usually take a nap after lunch at one and then play games till dinner at eight. After dinner they watch television and lights go out at ten.

"Patients of mental health become severely hindered, so we have three main goals: to re-teach them personal hygiene, personal skills and vocational skills," says Dr Shahid Rasheed, Incharge of Rehabilitation Unit.

The heartening fact is that the government provides the people at the institute, clean clothes, medicines (most of them extremely expensive) and free food at the cost of Rs 80 per head, monthly.

"I am very happy here," says Sher Mohammad, who is built like a wrestler, his hair oiled, and a week’s stubble across his face. "I love playing cricket and badminton. I made some good runs in the last match."

Sports is one of the key activities here. "The basic idea is to give them their motivation back," says Dr Rasheed. "These people are encouraged to put their time into games like basketball, badminton and other out-door activities."

The best things about the unit, however, are the smiles. There is something very genuine about how the patients smile at you, and when you smile back, they make a connection; one that both affirms humanity and the fact that they are lonely and would love to talk to someone.

And as I share cigarettes with Sikander and Shehzad, the first breaks into a wonderful Punjabi folk song, the latter recites me a poem, and Ameen shares some jokes from the day’s newspaper the connection grows; we laugh and have a good time.

But everything is not good here. Khalid, the one with the long beard and skull cap pulls me aside. "Can I have a cigarette," he asks. He takes one and stares at me. "I have my own business you know, of electrical equipment." There is a pause and a long puff. "But my family sent me back, they want everything for themselves." He pauses. "There is nothing wrong with me," and again the short blank stare that doesn’t feel short at all.

"It’s extremely hard for these patients to adjust in the real world," says Dr Rasheed. "The problem is that many times the family doesn’t want the person to return because of the stigma of psychiatric illnesses."

Dr Hamid Nawaz, consultant psychiatrist, Emergency ward, adds that relatives are so reluctant to look after the recovered patient that they often stop their medication thinking that they are better. Little do they realize that this can plunge the patients back into their psychiatric condition. "Family members are usually careless and unsupportive. What these people need is much more love and compassion from their families and the society."

After a wonderful day with the people at the Rehabilitation Unit, Sikander held my hand at the door, smiled and said, "Come again soon."

The Government College University’s Psychology Department is observing a Mental Health Week from March 31 to April 6

caption

— Photos by the author

MOOD STREET

At a recent family reunion, I met a distant cousin who was visiting home after completing a degree in literature from the US and before taking up a teaching position there. She is married to a civil servantment. The two have been happily (presuming since they are still a couple) married for almost seven years but have no children. She told us, the younger cousins, why she will never have babies: "because the world is a terrible place and I can’t make my own flesh and blood endure it. Period."

Fair enough. But that makes our birth a wilfully evil plan designed by our parents to reprimand us for their parents’ ‘vicious’ decision to give birth to them and so on and so forth. Greek tragedy, among others, is based on the idea that we, in the present, are paying for the sins of our forefathers. And the redemption from the collective sins lies only in sacrifice and incantation.

Funny! If you think of it, we, all of us, are actually paying for the Original Sin (the demands of religion), the sins of forefathers (bad genes, our identity in the world etc), those committed by our fathers and then we are not so sinless ourselves. But this all together and voila! Answer to all your problems is here: it’s not over until it’s over or better, take it or leave it. Since you don’t have the guts to leave, you might as well take it.

It’s interesting how the charge sheet against life and people is endless but no one wants to die. Not even someone who sees it coming. We say "I hate my life" but the idea of parting with it is unimaginable. We say the world is a terrible place but we choose to bring new lives here. The dichotomy is intense.

One of the most memorable lines from a Keanu Reeves movie, not the exact one though, questions why there’s a test for everything from driving licence to passing an exam but for becoming a parent. Anyone can do it. So it seems. The world seems even grimmer outside the car window where tanned women carry babies suffering from malnutrition making you wonder why would she "want her flesh and blood endure it." The question can’t be asked though, for she is a woman like any other. But just for the heck of it, why would she want to replicate her suffering through her children? Only she can answer.

Not many people think why they should have babies before they decide to. Not many people I know, at least. It is an immediate as well as a lasting need to have a reason for their marriage, the need to care for someone, to shush the in-laws, hope of happy times when their children would look after them at old age etc etc. Not many think of the terrible things happening in the world. Thousands of people die everyday of murder, drug abuse. Lives are ruined through human trafficking, sex slavery, poverty, exploitation, wars.

They told us we are doomed. But when was the last time the world was a perfect place. The wars are but a sophisticated continuation of bloodshed that history tells us of. It is not worse than before.

In short, we are all perfect but the world is not. As much as we fear the end of the world we want to spend our time here with a substantial purpose and what better reason than to nurture and educate better individuals. The world was never better and there is little chance it will miraculously transform ‘itself’ anytime soon.

So we might as well take it for what it is, forgive the forefathers and learn to live with their

mistakes as well as ours.

*Exhibition of Works by Imran Qureshi & Aisha Khalidat Rohtas Gallery on Apr 6 & 7.

*Photographs of the British contemporary

photographer Malcolm Hutcheson titled ‘Ganda Nala’ at Zahoor-ul-Ikhlaq Gallery, NCA on Thursday, April 8.

*Photography Exhibition Rang Barsey at Shakir Ali

Museum till Fri, Apr 16.

*Exhibition of paintings titled Desert Hues by

S. A. Noory at Vogue Art Gallery from Wed, Apr 7-15.

The gallery remains open from 5 pm to 8:30 pm.

*Exhibition of Works by Zara Mahmood & Sohpiya Khwaja

at Rohtas Gallery from Fri, Apr 9-17.

*Exhibition of Works by Ayaz Jokhio at Grey Noise gallery

till Monday, April 5.

*Dialogue: Surplus value - as proposed by Karl Marx, researched and presented by Dr Saulat Nagi at

Chaupal, Nasir Bagh on April 8 at 6 pm sharp.

*PFL Annual Education Fair 2010 at Pearl

Continental Hotel on Tue, Apr 6-7.

The festival of ‘lights’

Though there was a complete blackout for more than three hours on March 27 evening – when the annual festivity of Mela Chiraghan (festival of lights) officially began – thousands of people kept thronging the tomb of the saint during the night.

It was 10:30pm and the devotees, in the form of groups dancing to drum beats, had been crossing over dozens of security barricades set up in narrow streets of the northern part of Lahore where the tomb is located. It was pitch dark outside, but devotees were constantly moving towards the place of celebration and festivity as if some light inside them was drawing them to the place.

The place was full of devotees, and Malangs (hermits) had occupied the empty places around the tomb including the graveyard where they had camped for three days to pay homage to the saint. They also take different kinds of drugs to spiritually charge themselves. The third day of the festival is traditionally reserved for women.

"Getting light from inner self" is the message of this saint reflected in his poetry. That is why people call it Mela Chiraghan. It is said that the lighting of candles is metaphorically meant to overcome inner darkness. "By invoking spiritual light through love and self-knowledge, we can redeem ourselves" is one of the strong messages of this Sufi poet. The pilgrims walk up to the tomb and put candles in a pit made in front of the tomb to create light.

Muhammad Latif, a 60-year-old labourer, says he has been coming to this festival for the last 40 years. "The number of people you are seeing is nothing as compared to the number of devotees visiting the tomb 10 years ago," he says, adding, "The number of devotees is decreasing due to various reasons like raise in transport fares, price-hike and security."

"The festivity is losing charm due to lack of attention by the government. I still remember the festival used to be a mega event of Lahore a couple of decades back. The rush of people could be seen even in Delhi Gate of the walled city, a place which is quite far from here", according to Rahat Ali, 40, another regular participant of the annual celebrations. He blames the Punjab government’s Auqaf Department for the neglect.

The ambience around the tomb was also disheartening for Muhammad Arif, a man in early 40s, running his small shop. "See how people are groping in dark on their way to the tomb. The atmosphere is disappointing because of lack of government attention, which had announced a local holiday on this event," Arif laments. No drum beats could be heard around the tomb in the absence of light.

The festivity is arranged every year to commemorate Madhu Lal Hussain, the saint known for his unprecedented association with a Hindu devotee boy. Shah Hussain, later known as Madhu Lal Hussain, was born in 1538. Till his mid twenties, he remained a devoted Muslim leading a life of austerity. However, a turning point came in his life when, according to historical account, he started dancing in public. The dance is traditionally known as dhamaal in this part of the subcontinent. He became a Sufi saint, and believed in love for humanity. The Hindu boy, Madhu, had left his family to live with Lal Hussain, who loved him so much that he put the boy’s name before his own name and wished to be called Madhu Lal Hussain.

Shah Hussain was also a great poet. His poetry consists of short verses known as "Kafis". These were designed as musical compositions. They contained the cycle of birth, blossoming, decay and death.

Apart from the administrative failures, another disappointing factor was absence of devotees from India. Hindus used to come here on this occasion many years back. Tension between the two countries, perhaps, has discouraged devotees from India to participate in the festival. Life and poetry of saints like Madhu Lal Hussain can bridge the gap between the two nations.

"Their message for humanity is to get over race, religion, caste and creed," says Arif convincingly. "We need to listen to such messages to promote peace, harmony and tolerance in the world, especially in our own region. Delegates from India can be invited to attend the urs in future," Arif suggests.

Madhu Lal Hussain died in 1599 at the age of 63 and was first buried at Shahdara, a place on the western bank of River Ravi. But a few years later, the tomb was swept away by floods and his body was shifted to the present site. The Hindu boy Madhu is also reported buried nearby.

Email: vaqargillani@gmail.com

The Walls of Lahore usually present an unpleasant sight of vandalism — mostly cheap publicity of traditional medicine which promises a successful marital life. Also, these walls serve as a medium of publicity for many businesses and are often used by the public to vent out their frustration against all the ills that they see in the system. Graffiti and wall chalking are illegal, not during election campaigns though, and are usually done in the cover of night.

Surprisingly, the walls of Gulberg Town bloomed with enchanting colours and patriotic messages over the weekend when students from different institutions of Lahore took to the streets and started painting the walls in broad daylight. This was an activity organised by Message Welfare Trust, a non-profit and non-political student organisation, in an attempt to clean the city walls — to replace the incongruous advertisements with the cultural heritage of the country.

"Due to the current wave of terrorism across the country, both the national and international media have focused their energies on showing the negative side of the country," says Mudassir, one of the three students from University of Engineering and technology running a trust by the name of Message Welfare Trust, adding: "When a country comes under limelight and becomes more visible on an international level, media should balance things out by also showing the brighter and optimistic side which the country has to offer."

It was not unexpected to see that a majority of the participants through their work of art were enforcing the idea of unity amongst the four federating units of Pakistan and peace in the country.

Though the main theme of the competition was to portray the cultural diversity of the country, the paintings depicted a message of hope and a yearning for a better Pakistan. "How can one think about cultural festivities when the whole nation suffers from the menace of terrorism?" asks one of the participants. However, Zeeshan Khan, a bystander observing a painting done near City Plaza main market was of another viewpoint, "In my opinion the problems our country is facing today can be combated if we revive our culture which indeed happens to be our true identity."

Secondly, many participants selected verses from Allama Iqbal’s poetry to give a revolutionary feel to their artwork. Atta ur Rehman, a professional calligrapher, painted Iqbal’s portrait near FC College with a message of hope. According to him, "Iqbal’s poetry is revolutionary and supports pan-Islamism but his poetry takes a person on a journey of individual soul searching, thus, giving rise to the elements of change. If his poetry is taken in the correct context it focuses more on internal metamorphosis of an individual to bring about a greater change in the society."

The participants painted scenes of basant in its true colours and vibes. Such artworks were merely due to a sense of deprivation among people since successive governments in Punjab deprived Lahoris from the annual spring celebration of kite flying. Surely these paintings gave a subliminal message of bringing back one of the main cultural festivals Lahore is known for in Asia and throughout the world.

The images on the walls were well-received by the public who along with their families roamed around Gulberg to view these pieces of art. Every individual had his/her own opinion regarding the event and the paintings. The educated ones among the public were able to grasp the messages written in English but there were many to whom the messages in English language remained incomprehensible. Moreover, where almost all of the participants through one way or the other tried to give the message of unity, mainly fell short of bringing to the fore suggestions that could act as the unifying factor in all the ethnic identities living across Pakistan.

Sher Ali, a rickshaw driver in Lahore from Balochistan, pointed out that amongst all the paintings he came across he didn’t see anything that represented his province. He says, "Unity is foreseeable when the streets of Quetta will be painted with the cultural activities of the other provinces and when the walls of Lahore depict a Baloch, a Punjabi, a Sindhi and a Pukhtoon standing together."

Painting 55 walls within two days during the Street Art Competition event was one of its kind,never attempted before. This competition is part of a campaign "Pakistan Our Home," initiated by Message Welfare Trust. The organisation plans to carry out this activity in other towns of the city with the intention of adding to the beauty of the city by painting quality art on the otherwise dull walls.