The question of identity remains unanswered after 75 years with no chances of a consensus any time soon...
opinion
Many moons and a couple of blue moons ago, life in our beautiful metropolis was much simpler. People were more tolerant. They were educated and progressive. Moderation in religion was genuinely practiced and culture was not undermined by religion in the way it is in the present times. The erosion of culture and cultural identity that accelerated after the Islamisation drive of General Zia-ul-Haq continued unabashedly even after the restoration of democracy. The question of identity remains unanswered after 75 years with no chances of a consensus any time soon.
The Urdu-speaking migrant community suffered the most from this cultural decay. The Pakistan I grew up in was starkly different from the Pakistan I live in now. Our norms, values, language, principles, beliefs, outlook and perspective changed noticeably. We failed to save our distinct South Asian identity and accepted the notion that it conflicts with religion and the only salvation lies in Arabising ourselves.
It is a struggle now to say ‘Aadaab’ as a form of greeting. I find it hard and somewhat odd as I rarely get an opportunity to use it. One hears Aadaab much too less in the families where it was once a norm. The hand gesture that accompanies Aadaab, unique to the culture of Urdu speaking gentry, is almost extinct. The fact that we don’t feel the loss is a bigger tragedy.
Gone are the days when ‘Khuda Hafiz’ was a norm. We thought in our naivety that ‘Khuda’ meant God or ‘Allah Mian’ but were corrected by the pious who ensured Khuda Hafiz is replaced by Allah Hafiz. Akin to a silent movement, without much fanfare and hoopla, Pakistanis quit saying Khuda Hafiz altogether. One hears it rarely now.
‘Ramzaan’ was our way of pronouncing the name of the holy month. The same movement taught us that it is ‘Ramadan’ or better still ‘Ramadhaan’. Our usual greeting of ‘Ramzaan Mubarak’ was also replaced by ‘Ramadan Kareem’. The underlying notion is that anything Arabic is automatically more Muslim and hence obligatory on us to adopt.
The mission to replace commonly used words that sounded more Urdu with their Arabic and hence more pious versions continued with a strong religious fervour. ‘Mubarak’, though an Arabic word, seemed too integrated in Urdu and therefore ‘Mabrook’ was brought in. It sounded more genuinely Arabic. ‘Shukriya’ was too Urdu, South Asian and perhaps even secular and therefore targeted next. ‘Shukran’ became popular and some more Arabic and religious alternatives were introduced as a replacement of Shukriya. One cannot even discuss the loss of our identity with anybody for it unnecessarily triggers aggression. We live in a society where dialog has been replaced by preachy monologue.
I suppose sorry or ‘maaf kijiye ga’ would be next to go though I haven’t figured what is the Arabic alternative. The norm of asking ‘kya haal hain’ or ‘aap kaisay hain’ may also fall prey to this silent movement of making our language more jannati. Why don’t we do away with Urdu altogether and teach the population Arabic on a war-footing basis? What good is Urdu when it sounds less Islami and more Indian?
The ‘movement’ is not restricted to language alone. When women adorned abayas, some men took to thobe. For some odd reason, thobes didn’t find as big a market in Pakistan as abayas. I am certain somewhere the struggle to make them more popular must be going on. In the last few decades, however, we changed our dressing significantly. Men almost stopped wearing pajamas, especially chooridars replacing them with shalwar. Sarees became infrequent and ghararas were restricted to weddings only. I am surprised we didn’t follow Arabs in our wedding traditions except for popularising segregation of sexes at wedding events. Many families discarded the traditions of mehendi and mayun terming them unIslamic. The festivities in many families now start with a dars which is another cultural innovation brought in the society in the aftermath of the Islamisation drive of the ’80s. Many urban neighbourhoods now boast of regular dars sessions that have silently but noticeably transformed lifestyles, cultural practices and perspectives in scores of families. Many women actively pursue dars get-togethers to find suitable matches for their daughters.
What triggered these changes and how did they manage to penetrate our culture with an almost zero resistance is a question that needs to be discussed on an intellectual level. Are wannabe Arabs better Muslims than the ones following their local traditions and culture? Is it just us or non-Arab Muslims of Africa and the Far East are also Arabising their culture? I am also intrigued to know if sticking to our indigenous culture actually threatens our religious affiliation and pose a conflict that needs to be resolved? It didn’t, as a matter of fact, in our parents and grandparents generations and the generations before them. What happened then that altered the whole landscape?
