Dear Sir,

This is to bring some matters of public interest to your notice, which one would hope you may gloss over in your insufficient moments of leisure from the day-to-day care of the fracas that you have to contend with in the tribal land. One is taking the liberty of publishing this letter, in the public interest, to employ the official cant, so that the public under your charge may also get to read something exhilarating from the past concerning your present place of work and residence.

Albert Joseph Godin, 86, is an erudite Peshawarite; one whose incredible memory and his enviable capacity to produce that in exquisite prose in the fashion of the writers of the Victorian-age will make you proud. He presently lives in Canada with his family. He has this fascinating habit of narrating events from the past in a manner that makes him an anecdotist of a high class.

Thus when one recently asked Albert about a brief history of Peshawar’s Fort Road especially in view of the fact that there is no fort on this road, and as of present it does not lead to the Bala Hissar Fort to its east, the inimitable storyteller volunteered a wealth of information.

Sir George Cunningham, the Governor of the erstwhile Northwest Frontier Province, recollects Albert, would often be seen after a day’s work on an evening stroll along the Fort Road, trailed by a lone gunman about 50 yards behind, whose only weapon for the protection of the Governor was a simple revolver. Then while bemoaning how the trend-setting Englishman had been forgotten, Albert points out something that may not find favour with the prevalent mindset in our country.

During the course of answering the request about Fort Road, Albert goes on to share another enchanting incident about a local gentleman who was the Governor of the province in the earlier days of the new country. It would be most enjoyable to read that in Albert’s own words:

“One day during the afternoon, the then Governor (also called “Lat Sahib”) slipped out of the Governor’s Mansion from the rear gate to visit an aunt who lived in Peshawar City. On his return journey, the Governor sat in a tonga which took five piecemeal passengers (“sawaris”) over the bridge connecting city with the cantonment. The poor horse could not manage to pull this load up the incline, so the tonga-driver (“coachwan”) asked the passengers to alight and “paya dao”, i.e. give the wheel a hand, which they all did. When passing by the Museum, the ‘coachwan’ addressing this particular passenger as ‘Khan,’ inquired as to his destination, and was advised: ‘Lat Sahib ki kothi”. The ‘coachwan’ hesitated for a while, but continued and offloaded the passenger at the gate of the Governor’s House. While entering the gate, the sentry on duty inquired who he was. On being informed that he was the Governor, the sentry informed him when the Governor leaves the Mansion; the Flag is lowered, pointing to the Flag which was at the top of the mast. Considering him to be an imposter, he asked the person to sit on the bench, possibly even making questionable remarks, called the Guard Commander, who in turn phoned the Governor’s ADC informing him that they had caught an imposter.”

With the guard duly awarded for his dutifulness, the rest of the denouement leaves little for imagination. What this anecdote from the old days tells us is that those were wonderful times when Man’s worst enemy Fear was slumbering in its condemned quarters. Fear now appears to be stalking our roads with the result that it is well nigh impossible to come even anywhere near the shadows of the walls of the Governor’s House. It will not be fair to be a witness to the good old days dating back to just about fifteen years ago and not scribbling it for the benefit of the posterity when nearly all roads led to the Governor’s House as against none now.

Some people in our country are given to unrestrained rhetoric. It is certainly indiscreet rhetoric that says if people give such and such a verdict the Governor’s and Chief Minister’s Houses will be converted into public parks. Not that one would mind that, but will it not be better for the present to create conditions conducive to reopening the roads leading to the these symbols of authority, and whether there is any scarcity of land for building parks elsewhere in Peshawar. It is indeed very sad that people in our dear old Peshawar do not even have uninhibited access to the public offices to attend to their many matters of urgent nature.

It thus, befits the holder of a distinguished public office to leave behind a trailblazing legacy.

Published in Dawn, April 20th, 2015

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