Points of Entry: Encounters at the Origin-Sites of Pakistan by Nadeem Farooq; Tranquebar Press; 160 Pages; Rs 499
The title Points of Entry: Encounters at the Origin-Sites of Pakistan is the only thing that falls below the standard set by the rest of the book. It fails to intrigue or fire up the curiosity of a potential reader, a task that book titles are supposed to achieve. It is vague and not easy to explain what it precisely means—though Nadeem Farooq Paracha in his introduction makes a valiant effort to explain it. But that comes after one has decided to buy the book and read it.
Paracha’s writing throbs with love for his country and his keen eye observes all major and minor details that make for a complicated nation. This is not to say that other nations are not complicated entities, but each nation has its unique way of workings... and failings. So has Pakistan. And Paracha successfully brings across to the reader various aspects that go on to make Pakistan what it is today. And mind you, his Pakistan is not what we as Indians get to know of from various media and political sources. It is a nation that is grappling with various issues in its own way and, away from all propaganda, has a society that is culturally throbbing with human passions.
The book begins with a ‘Timeline’ of events in Pakistan’s history, beginning from June 3, 1947, when the British decided on partition of the subcontinent. The timeline primes the reader with facts that had the author opted to weave in with his stories, would have obstructed their flow and impact. In that sense, this is a book that should be read from where it begins. Once the timeline has been read, one can jump to any chapter and not get a feeling of discontinuity as each chapter is complete in itself. Still, it would be better to go sequentially as some incidents and characters make appearances in multiple stories and the initial backgrounder is in the first story they appear in.
Paracha starts his stories from Mohenjodaro, the Indus Valley site, which he revisits after decades and discerns the change the famous archaeological site has seen over the years. The change more than physical is on a conscious level. While the historical facts remain frozen over time, their importance is waning. The author’s conversation with an old guide there is illuminating—when the guide offers his services to Paracha and the author tells him apologetically that he does not have much money, the guide laughs off the offer saying, “Sain, who asked for money? This is for motherland.” The author takes motherland as Pakistan, which the guide refutes and counters with, “No Sain, birthplace of Pakistan.” “India,” says the author. “Birthplace of India too,” the guide answers and then elaborates, “Land of Sindhu (Indus River)... Sindhu gave birth to this place—Mohenjodaro—which gave birth to India and then Pakistan.” Clearly, people fail to realise the truth of the Spanish philosopher George Santayana’s famous saying: “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.”
Paracha’s effortless prose continues throughout the book where he talks about various facets of the land that is today Pakistan—from dried lake at an ancient Buddhist site to Siddhis in Karachi to official rewriting of history and its pitfalls to immigrant Goans dominating the music world to Sindhi folk deities to medieval Indian emperors. Through his clearheaded understanding of the past and the present, Paracha explores layers of cultural and physical existence of Pakistan. Forget the obscure title and grab the book. It is one of the best reads in recent times and certainly an eye-opener for an Indian who is mostly accustomed to hearing only the worse about its neighbouring country.