YASMINA Khadra is the nom de plume of the Algerian army officer turned writer, Mohammed Moulessehoul, who took a female pseudonym to camouflage his military identity. Yasmina earned fame for works such as ‘The Swallows of Kabul,’ ‘The Attack’ and the ‘The Sirens of Baghdad.’

In his last mentioned novel, the writer introduces the lead militant character Sayed as a taciturn mysterious young man who is suspected to have attended a school in Peshawar during the Taliban rule. The writer merely says Peshawar and does not go on to inform his intended readers the historical, or in the least the geographical location of the place. Perhaps the writer assumed that by merely juxtaposing Peshawar with the Taliban, the antenna would be set right for the readers across the world.

So our dearest old Peshawar is no more known to the world to be one of the oldest cities of South Asia; earlier some archaeological findings had traced back Peshawar’s history to 7000 years ago. This is indeed an unmitigated tragedy. One could also now forget about the Dravidians, the Aryans, Alexander and Tamerlane to have traversed the length of the present day Khyber Pakhtunkhwa and of course equally well for having once been called the centre of Gandhara Civilisation and by virtue thereof the centre of Buddhism.

It was not with the foregoing background earlier this month when the KP Culture Department made an attempt to take up issues with the outside world. But whatsoever the inducement, an initiative of sorts was taken and an Islamabad based arts and crafts institute called ‘Hunerkada’ was engaged to organise various events under the title of Face-Off.

A sub title referred to the composite events as ‘An Integrated Arts Workshop. Some poorly drafted literature and unimaginative banners with spelling mistakes revealed that the events would kick off with a discussion on the theme of rising intolerance and violence in the society. The event organisers and their clients had apparently tied great hopes with the opening ceremony to be a resounding beginning to the over a week long activities. Unfortunately for all the stakeholders, including the suffering masses that were found to be least aware of the goings on, the opening proved to be a bad dream coming true. And as the day progressed, the whole proceedings began to unfold like scenes from a reality show rather than the serious dialogue which it had been pronounced and meant to be.

The man in the forefront, Jamal Shah, a known artist and the founder of Hunerkada twice apologised to the few members of the audience present in the hall about the late start. The US Council General in Peshawar was seen restlessly cooling her heels in front of the rostrum, waiting perhaps for the chief guest. Dressed in a sort of traditional Pakistani apparel, she had somehow slithered out of her iron, steel, barbed wire and concrete built pit situated right in the middle of what once used to be a busy thoroughfare of Peshawar.

It defeats one’s imagination how the poor soul had plucked the courage to make it to the venue from the precincts where figuratively even ants are exposed to a body search before allowing them to crawl in. But then she was revealed to be one of the financiers, bestowing a hefty sum on Hunerkada and hence legitimately entitled to behold a view of the human beings dwelling in the outside world.

One should never undertake to do a job at which one is not good at. Jamal Shah is a very good actor, an acclaimed singer, and a master sculptor and he must also be a skilled teacher in all these fields. One of his most evocative songs sung in a chaste southern Pashto accent is about the romance that rain spawns. But why did Jamal venture into alien territory? The lengthening hours spent in the conference on May 7, 2012 have proved beyond any shred of doubt that Jamal is not cut out for the job that he offered to undertake.

When the panelists were finally called to the stage, it suddenly looked as if all actors had forgotten their dialogues, and the director and his assistant were seen running around in frenzy and pulling out their hair. With great effort, the discussion finally commenced. The organisers had flaunted that many notable thinkers and speakers from around the world would participate in the conference and share their thoughts about the current situation. One, however, found only two lanky western speakers, one of whom looked to be a pupil of the Chomsky school of thought and whose discourse had no relevance to the subject under discussion while the other one was a musicologist.

A young turbaned Afghan from Nangarhar was also introduced to the audience, but the gentleman opted to be a listener instead of a speaker which act of his was a great blessing. Most of what the eight panelists said bordered on rhetoric and simple and plain platitudes. There were a couple of teachers from the University of Peshawar among the panelists; one of whom was quite relevant but what the other said elicited a big yawn from a gentleman in the audience who termed that a repeat of what the respected teacher had been teaching for the last twenty and five years.

A strong and prolific analysis of the prevailing situation by the renowned journalist Rahimullah Yusufzai in his inimitable soft style was perhaps the most redeeming features of the proceedings. On that particular occasion one literally saw the young progressive journalist of the old days voluntarily resurfacing and propounding the views that he was once famous for.

Mr. Yusufzai reminisced about the good old days when Hindus, Sikhs and Christians were once the most important part of the Pakhtun polity, and reminded the audience that the erstwhile Frontier was the only place where no blood had spilled at the time of partition.

Long before the conference broke for the lunch, the US lady and her companions had taken to their heels. When the motley crowd reassembled after the lunch in which some very bad food was served, the already half empty hall had further thinned.

Jamal Shah’s assistant who was also acting as moderator was seen persuading and beseeching each and every person present in the hall to bear with them for the remaining part of the proceedings which saw a discourse on the role of media. By now the pressure of the great fiasco had so thoroughly exhausted the assistant that the poor chap could no more classify the panelists on the basis of their respective genders.

The hours spent in the conference on that particular day, and on the subsequent days also, produced absolutely no substance. While time thus whiled away in the hall, outside on the roads of Peshawar loudspeakers continued to entice young people towards the holy war. One thus returned fully convinced that Moulessehoul will continue to refer to Peshawar in the same refrain.