THERE is much to laugh at, be it straight humour or that of the gallows-type, when it comes to the millions of doddering souls of the Islamic Republic of Pakistan — now dangerously numbering 165-odd millions, but there is a dire shortage of that valuable attribute known as a sense of humour. And there are a pathetic few of us who are able to laugh at ourselves.

There are still some of us around who have had the good fortune or the misfortune to have known all the ‘leaders’ of this country, mainly rotters, who have imposed themselves on us — far too few good men having been appointed to govern and lead.

For starters, there is our Founder-Maker who cannot be faulted at whom we cannot laugh but who was a man with a sense of humour quite capable of laughing at himself. Mohammad Ali Jinnah was at heart an Englishman of the old school, who carved out a country for the Muslims of the sub-continent and any others of any other creed who may choose to live in it.

Contrary to what many say about him, he did have the time to lay down the law and tell us how Pakistan was to be administered — which he had every right to do and which those he left behind should have had the decency and honesty to heed. He made it abundantly clear that the first duty of any government was to impose law and order to safeguard the lives, properties and religious beliefs of the citizens of the country it governed. He was emphatic on the point that religion was not the business of the state, and that Pakistan, his country, his creation, was not to be a theocratic state ruled by priests with a divine mission.

Jinnah was perceptive, though he had his doubts, he knew his compatriots too well. He once prophesied that each government of Pakistan would be worse than its predecessor. He was also capable of laughter, he loved animals, he kept dogs. The archives have a photograph of him taken in his house in Hampstead, with him sitting on his lawn, cigarette in mouth, happily playing with his Highland Terrier and Doberman. This is how he should be remembered. Not as the dour, sick man, with death written all over his face, in a karakul-cap and a starched sherwani. Such are the photographs that stare down from the walls of all our government offices, courts, embassies and chanceries. It is not fair to the man.

After his departure we had the jolly Khwaja Nazimuddin, a profoundly educated gentleman and sportsman. He could shoot straight. On one occasion he had the prime ministerial car and all his flunkies rushing around Karachi trying to find a vet to come and tend to his pet rooster. The press soon found out and sought his explanation. He confirmed the story, and gently told them that they could write what they liked about him but please spare his rooster. The press obliged.

Then we take a big leap down a couple of decades to a general of the army who was appointed governor of West Pakistan in 1969 and governor of Punjab in 1971, Lt General Attiqur Rahman. When Attiq was chairman of the Federal Public Service Commission in the early 1980s, he was a frequent visitor to Karachi and never ever failed to spend an evening or two with me while here.

He was famed for his punctuality, one of the greatest forms of politeness, and for his impeccable manners. When invited to dinner at 2030 hours, one could be sure that at 2029 he would be knocking at the door..

With his wonderful sense of humour, Attiq was always ready and prepared for a bit of fun. An unabashed admirer of all thing military and particularly of the German 20th century war machine (as am I), I bestowed upon Attiq the rank and title of Herr Generalfeldmarschall Attiq von Rachmann. On one of his visits to Karachi when he still headed the FPSC, I set off for the airport to pick him up armed with a large red and black swastika on a long wooden pole. While entering the VIP room I was halted and grilled as to which party I represented and which dignitary I was meeting. The president of the Pakistan People’s Socialist Democratic Liberal Communist Front, I announced. Attiq received a smart salute, which he returned, as we strutted out together.

When he retired from the FPSC in 1985 his visits were not so frequent, though he did manage to come here to chair sessions of the English Speaking Union of which he was president (as opposed to the PPSDLCF).

On his last visit to Karachi in 1995, before he was stricken with the cancer that was to kill him the following year, I once again set off to collect him from the airport, this time accompanied by a drummer and a trumpeter who had been instructed to play ‘Colonel Bogey’ as Attiq emerged from the arrival lounge.

Not being quite up to it, what greeted him was a discordant Punjabi wedding song. He didn’t turn a hair, he politely clapped, offered a smiling ‘shahbash’ to the errant musicians, and politely shook each by the hand.

A gentleman to his fingertips, he is much missed by his friends and my visits to Lahore, where, after his retirement from the army, he settled in his modest house on Munir Road, are no longer the same without him — the perfect companion. A second edition of his memoirs ‘Back to the Pavilion’ (OUP) has just been launched in Lahore. Ten years after his death he is still remembered with joy.

Now a huge leap into the 21st century and to today’s Pakistan. For a touch of humour in our grim lives, I recommend a look at page 4 of Dawn of May 26 where you will find a colourful quarter-page advertisement at which one could really have a good laugh were it not so infuriating. Funny-man Senator Babar Khan Ghauri, “Honourable” federal minister for ports & shipping, has dreamt up this monster and in it has proudly announced that it is us, “Citizens of Karachi” who have inserted it. We, taxpayers, have been made to pay for a bit of self-aggrandisement for a senator-minister without our knowledge or consent. The worthy minister has had a good laugh at us fools.

The advertisement carries five photographs, from the left, a serious-looking portly Professor Ataur Rahman, a smoothly serious Shaukat Aziz, a smiling Pervez Musharraf, a dour and grim self-exiled Altaf Bhai, now a proud citizen of Great Britain, and the smart senator-minister himself. The caption: “We owe you so much! The citizens of Karachi are extremely indebted to Senator Babar Khan Ghauri .... for his generous gift in the shape of “The University of Engineering, Science & Technology Pakistan-Karachi.” A description of the “world class institution” follows and at the bottom we read “From : Citizens of Karachi.” We are indeed indebted to him for gifting away 140 acres of our land.

To end with the Democratic Duo, the scourges of the 1990s, the now united in enmity NawBen. They threaten to march in to thunderous applause, bassoons and tympanis, and topple President General Pervez Musharraf. They are hailed as saviours by the Generals detractors (now on the increase unfortunately) and their document, the CoD (cash on delivery?) has been hailed as a masterpiece of democratic brilliance and even as a Magna Carta. So be it.

Musharraf may have flip-flopped, he may not have done most of what he had promised to do, but seriously what is the alternative? Who is there? Do we wish to go backwards? What is there that is new on the horizon? Where is the viable replacement that can sustain the country — forget about sustaining democracy as that is a far cry. The general can still thrust and parry. But there is one thing he should not do. He has taken to punching the air with his two clenched fists. This is not on. No one likes a bully. However, to his credit — he does have a sense of humour.

E-mail: arfc@cyber.net.pk