On the third morning after the polling day (May 11, 2013) in Islamabad I hear breaking news about a woman from Jhang having defeated a mullah in the elections. No mean feat.
Jhang reminds me of Heer, a folk tale heroine from the same town. The curiosity surrounding the woman’s signal triumph takes me to Jhang, a city with roots going back to the 12th century and located on the east bank of the Chenab River.
I board a bus to Jhang from Rawalpindi and after a good five hours journey arrive at the Jhang Bus Terminal. As I step out of the bus I see a couple of election posters pasted up a bus terminal wall with information and images of two PML-N contestants.
Sheikh Muhammad Akram of Pakistan Muslim League-Nawaz has defeated Maulana Muhammad Ahmad Ludhianvi, a Muttahidda Deeni Mahaaz candidate on NA-89 Jhang 4.
Maulana Ludhianvi is head of the once banned Sipah-e-Sahaba and now re-invented as Ahl-e-Sunnat Wal Jamaat (ASWJ) known for spreading sectarian hate for almost two decades.
But the most significant, if shocking, result of the entire election 2013 is that Maulana Ludhianvi suffers another blow; this time at the hands of a woman named Rashida Yaqoob Sheikh (PP-78).
The double defeat means Ludhianvi has lost both the national and provincial seats he was contesting.
I approach a rickshaw driver and pointing to a poster ask him if he knows Sheikh Akram. The man looks at me and says, “Sir jee elections are over”.
“I know, you take me to his house,” I insist and hop in the rickshaw. On the way, I ask the driver about Maulana Muhammad Ahmed Ludhianvi. His cynicism-soaked answer is, “Ussay jannat naseeb ho” (may he find a place in Heaven — a euphemistic way of saying he has been dusted, politically).
Within minutes, the rickshaw stops before a huge gate which looks like the entrance to some college campus. After brief security checks, I am ushered in.
I see more than 100 men in groupings of twos, threes and more. There is also a small make-shift enclosure which holds more than a dozen women, most of them in black burqas holding petitions — some in their hands, and still others may be in their hearts.
A dozen or more security guards are either standing attentive, or at ease leaning against high powered vehicles. The entire premises present a typical scene of some government hospital OPD or city courts in Pakistan.
Wading through men and mettle, I enter a room full of more men of all shapes and sizes rubbing against each other’s sweating bodies.
One group is bent over a large office table behind which sit Sheikh Muhammad Akram and Sheikh Waqas, his eldest son. They are jointly passing orders and issuing prescription slips to remedy personal and political grievances.
After a couple of minutes, I am noticed by Sheikh Waqas (I met him once in Islamabad). Now, I’m formally introduced to the father.
Sheikh Akram and I move onto the grassy lawn in the cool shade of what seemed like an under-construction typically English Manor House — their future home.
I start talking to Sheikh Sahib, a gentleman with a priestly smile. I ask him how he counts his mercies. “I am blessed with a loving family and a caring culture. What more would one want,” pat comes the reply.
“Is this the first time you have confronted Maulana Ludhianvi?”
“No. We have defeated this mullah before. My eldest son Waqas beat him twice and now I have taught him a lesson of a lifetime. He has been defeated in the National Assembly contest by me and in the Punjab province by a woman, which he will never be able digest.”
“What was it like during the electioneering period?”
“On the polling day, Ludhianvi’s blood thirsty packs conducted horrifying attacks on the polling stations and voters. From their appearances, it was clear that most of them were not from the area. They had long shoulder-length hair and flowing black beards…”
When I ask about his strength, Sheikh Sahib says, “Our strength is in our unity and extending a helping hand to the people of our area — even those who are not our supporters. We spend a lot of time together, sometime from 10 in the morning to 3 the next morning. Over the years, in spite of our social and religious differences, we are one in spirit.”
At this stage, we are joined by Sheikh Waqas. Commenting on Maulana Ludhianvi’s downfall, he says, “His and the hate mongering of his followers and violent acts against a particular faction of Islam have brought him disrepute. Before we assumed a leadership role, Ludhianvi’s group had unleashed hell in the area. They were on the rampage kidnapping, killing and looting people of all ages. A 14-year-old boy was killed and his body hung in city main square. Martin Luther King Jr said, ‘The hottest place in hell is for those who remain neutral in times of great moral conflict.’ How could we let this go on? We could hear the people’s voices renting the air, urging, “Can someone do something about this outrageous man?”
“We chose to do it, and we did it.”
“Now that your family has won the elections, are there any life threats to you and the family from the Ludhianvi’s group,” I ask.
“Yes, there still are. We have proof of it in writing (he shows me one). They are shameless creatures. I know they will keep coming back. But we are not deterred by their terror tactics.”
Sheikh Waqas is the eldest son, the face of the Sheikh fiefdom, somewhat like the character of Hector in Homer’s ancient Greek classic The Iliad.
The Sheikhs are quite vocal about their resolve to continue keeping the people of Jhang united and to root out hatred bred by groups like Ludhianvi’s ASJW. They say they are very well aware of the difficulties involved in taking on such a group because often the administration, too, connives with them, sometimes out of fear but also religious affiliation.
In the evening, I have the opportunity of witnessing outdoor celebrations of Hazrat Ali (RA)’s birthday being held in a village on the outskirts of Jhang city. We have lovely multi-coloured sweet rice and lemon drinks with repeated offers of multiple helpings. On the way back, we pass through a hostile city area — inhabited by the Panipat community who migrated from Panipat in India at the time partition in 1947. They are all supporters of Maulana Ludhianvi.
While still in the area, I am shown a signboard with an arrow pointing towards Maulana Ludhianvi’s residence. I instantly speak up my mind: “Defeated they may be, but they may try to strike back with extreme vengeance?
“We won’t let them,” says a resolute Sheikh Waqas.
It is now getting dark. I beg leave from the Sheikh family and head towards Rashida Yaqoob’s office. She has won against Ludhianvi in the PP-78 Jhang on PML-N ticket. (Interestingly, her husband Muhammad Yaqoob Sheikh, a former MPA, had been in Ludhianvi’s group for almost three decades.) I want to know more about this mystery woman, who has broken the glass ceiling with her symbolically powerful feat.
I have to beg leave now…and not necessarily because the mention of Heer gives me goose bumps. It is now 10.20pm and the last bus to Rawalpindi/Islamabad is to leave at quarter past 11. I ask my local driver to rush me to Heer’s mausoleum where she lies buried next to her lover Ranjha.
I do realize that it is dark and time not in great supply, but given to pushing my luck, I ask the driver to step up the gas.
Negotiating the bumps in the crazy load-shedding hour, we arrive at the mausoleum surrounded by other graves. I quickly take my shoes off and run as fast as I can towards the mound atop which the mausoleum stands. The two doors are locked but there is light inside. I look around for some living-lover (devotee) of Heer. There is none.
My driver tries opening the decidedly desi locks with his Chinese keys. None work. In the meanwhile, I find and place a couple of bricks in front of the side door and stand on my toes, lifting my head as high as I can to peep inside the filigree mounted above the door.
I manage to get a good view of the grave and the huge circular opening in the ceiling. It is said rain never falls through on the grave. My attendant says he is witness to the miracle.
According to legend, Heer, the heroine of the most famous folk tale of the subcontinent took on a mullah and her uncle for their love of hate and hate for love.
One mullah took bribe to approve a nikah (matrimonial vows) and forcibly, handed Heer over to an unacceptable man. She confronted him before the Hindu Raja of the time where the mullah confessed to his dirty deed. Eventually, Heer was poisoned by her uncle and she died (so did Ranjha, her lover).
Heer lives by fighting the institution of mullah-ism and dying for love. The fight between hateful haters and lovable lovers of Jhang was brought into writing by the immortal bard of Punjab, Waris Shah in 1766. I couldn’t help wishing I was him.
The conflict between lovers and haters goes on.
“Fear was my motivation”
How did you enter politics?
I have been actively assisting my husband during his political career. I took the challenge after the rejection of my husband’s nomination papers this time.
Are you filling in for your husband?
It’s just not that. I know I can perform and I will.
What motivated you to contest against an opponent many would fear for their life taking on?
Frankly, the so-called fear was my main motivation.
Was it your own decision or your family’s? If it was yours, did you get full, gingerly or no support from your family?
Obviously, my family, friends, and supporters were with me all along. I couldn’t have done it without them, specially the core group that is with me all the time.
Were you really hopeful of what you ended up achieving or was the more realistic purpose making a point in symbolically taking the fight to Ludhianvi?
I was determined from the very beginning. Beginning determines the end. We made a good beginning during the electioneering period and ultimately, we were rewarded for our efforts. Taking on a mullah, who is the head of an organization infamous for violent acts, was always at the back of my mind.
What does your triumph mean for ordinary Pakistani women, politician or non-politician?
Politics is not for men only. It is for all Pakistanis, and women are made of no less substance. Every Pakistani has a duty to contribute and the right to play a decision-maker’s role.
Do you intend to continue in politics, now that you have made a statement?
I surely will… I have taken a great leap forward…. there is no going back now.
Among women politicians, who inspires you the most?
Every woman in the world, who has stood by principles and has taken on hostile institutions, is my inspiration. Heer is one of them!
Maulana Ludhianvi declined to give his views on the subject
The writer is a print and broadcast journalist based in Islamabad.
