Habib Khan, Quetta: When I was in the first year of Engineering we used to live in a secluded hostel where our spare time was mostly spent chatting in each others rooms fostering good relationship between boys from different parts of the country.
Irfan Brohi was from Hyderabad with ancestral roots from “Kanak” in Balochistan, and belonged to the “Rodeni” tribe of the Brahvi’s.
Even though he didn’t speak any Brahvi or Balochi but he soon developed good relationship with the boys from Balochistan, and one day we were delighted when Irfan invited us to visit his home in Hyderabad and talk to his father who spoke fluent Brahvi.
Apart from meeting Irfan’s father, I still vividly remember the delicious parathas made by his mother and the laughter we shared while reading from a joke book.
However, after lunch, Irfan took us to a movie based on the story of a woman who ran a brothel, renounced her sinful ways, and planned to lead a pious life. But when faced with defending the honor of a helpless woman, she brandished a gun and shouted the film’s final dialogue,
“Aik gunah aur sahi”
(Just one more sin)
–also the title of the film.
For me, the movie’s highlight was a song partly picturized in the ruins of Moenjodaro, “Aa dekh Mohenjo-Daro main ye bigri hui tasweer meri” (Come and witness in Moenjodaro this distorted picture of mine).
The camera focused on what I later learnt was the iconic “Dancing Girl of Moenjodaro”. Although I don’t know the song writer, it poignantly captured the misery of women from prehistoric times to the present day.
Impressed by the song, I wanted to see the Dancing Girl at Moenjodaro, but life’s struggles kept me away for 40 years.
Finally, in February 2015, we four of us from Merck planned the long-awaited trip to Moenjodaro. At the site, I sadly learned that the Dancing Girl was only a replica; the original, only 10 cm tall, is displayed at the New Delhi museum.
I was also surprised to find that the entrance fee was just Rupees 20, but the gatekeeper didn’t even issue tickets, so not even that small amount reached the authorities. Furthermore, I discovered that thieves from a neighboring village had stolen most of the artifacts by removing the glass roof panels of the museum.
Unable to stomach more bad news, I sought a certified guide to learn about Moenjodaro’s real history and excavation, but unfortunately, there were no guides available at the site.
Until one employee offered his services. He took us around the site for the next couple of hours and proved to be exceptionally knowledgeable about archeology. At the end, I gave him Rs. 2,000 as a token of appreciation. However, most of other employees and even my friends complained that he didn’t deserve it since he was already receiving a salary. Interestingly, the employee, after taking my business card, would call me at least once a month until I retired, and every time he would say, “Sir, people like you don’t visit the site often.”
Each time, I would think about it, I would recall Manto’s short story, “Aakhir Rishwat kaam kar gayi” (After all, the bribe did work”).
PS: Sometime back I read that even the Dancing Girl replica has been stolen? Any news about that?
