I Am Only a ‘Chowkidar’
A few years ago, after several decades, I visited Islamia, my old college in Peshawar. Visiting one’s old school or college always brings back happy memories, and my visit did, too.
I was delighted to meet Mian Jameel, my friend and roommate, in Hardinge Hostel, Room №52. He was a humanities student while I majored in science. We learned from each other. He introduced me to the weekly Lail-o-Nihar, a leftist magazine, and Naqoosh, a literary magazine, while I would read to him whatever I read that day besides the textbooks.
But the visit also erased some beautiful images that had been preserved in my mind.
The college was built in 1913 and conceived as a liberal arts college, emulating the Ali Garh model. It has served the province's people well, producing generations of professionals, civil servants, diplomats, judges, generals, politicians, and businessmen.
The main college building is one of the most magnificent old buildings in the country. Thanks to UNESCO's declaration of it as a World Heritage — one of ninety such historic buildings and sites in the province — it is still well preserved. The college also had six or seven hostels built in an architectural style complementing the main building.
The college campus had ample open areas and playing fields, and its streets were lined with bitter orange trees, which, in bloom, filled the air with fragrance.
The Islamia students stood out in their black sherwani (a long black coat) and white shalwar. When you look at some old group photographs, students look groomed — hair combed in the glistening styles of the movie icons of the time, and rarely a beard.
Sadly, things didn’t look as rosy as they did in our college days — or as I imagined they did. Many open spaces are gone, overtaken by buildings built out of character. Tennis courts across Chelmsford hostel were taken over by a brick-and-mortar monstrosity, blocking the view of the main college building.
Students still wore black sherwanis and white shalwars, but their shirts were longer and the sherwanis shorter. This is not how it was meant to be, and it doesn’t look elegant.
Mian Jameel and I went to look up Hardinge Hostel, where we spent some of the happiest years of our student life. We found three young men at the hostel gate, presumably residents of the hostel, basking in the sun. It was a cold January morning. They all had short beards and were draped in woolen shawls (شاھڑی). We greeted them and told them why we were there. They welcomed us and readily escorted us inside.
One of the three assumed the lead role in showing us around. He showed intellectual curiosity, asked us about our college experiences, answered our questions, and conversed with us. The other two politely tagged along, keeping quiet. Our visit didn’t seem to pique their curiosity.
The hostel building looked distressed with spotty, out-of-character renovations. Brick walls were painted in white patchwork at random spots to hide the damp spots. The columns lining the arched verandahs were each painted with religious inscriptions, not an ideal place for a spiritual message.
In the hedge-lined courtyard, where we gathered for the morning “dress parade,” laundry was hung on a clothesline. It wasn’t a pretty sight.
Having completed the round of the hostel, I asked our escorts, not anyone in particular, if they would take a couple of pictures, with my camera, of Mian Jameel and me standing in front of room 52, our old room. The ‘leader’ readily offered to do so and asked me to show him how to operate my camera, which I did. The other two showed no interest. Probably, taking a picture was too complicated a job for them.
Pictures taken, we walked back to the gate. Before saying goodbye to our escorts, I asked them what class they were in and what they were studying.
“I am only a chowkidar (gatekeeper),” the ‘leader’ replied. “Those two are students,” he said, pointing to the other two.
Mian Jameel and I wondered if it was just the aura of nostalgia that made everything look golden in the past or if things were actually better and brighter when we were in college.
