Afia Salam's Blog

Life is a journey

World Water Day 2018:Nature Based Solutions

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Screen Shot 2018-03-22 at 11.15.47 pm.pngOn World Water Day 2018, think water, think women, and think Nature Based Solutions, or NBS as they are called. Why women? Because there is a clear water and women nexus in most communities that places the responsibility of fetching water, and its judicious use, on women.

Why Nature? Because as has been explained in the theme:

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This makes perfect sense where there is a paucity of resources to meet the dire needs of water access for communities.

It also makes sense because grey structures interfere with Nature. Their negative impacts in the surrounding, and downstream areas have been widely documented.

Nature based solutions allow benefit from Nature’s bounty while allowing it to also replenish and sustain itself, and life, human, animal, insect and plant, life around it.

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I have been fortunate to have witnessed one such solution implemented through the Indus Earth Trust Water for Women project being implemented in Kohistan union council of Thatta District with the assistance of Coca-Cola Foundation.

An arid area totally dependent on the water collecting in natural depression from hill torrents racing down twice a year from the adjoining Kirthar Hills, this hot and windy areas sees it disappe

ar all too soon, especially in the summer when rapid evapouration takes place.

The area gets rain for a few days twice a year and that is is only source of water.

Screen Shot 2018-03-22 at 11.21.17 pm.png Women, who bear the physical and social burden of fetching water have to go further and further in search of the watering holes to fetch water for household use as well as take livestock there to fulfil their needs.

The heavy containers of water on their heads take a toll on their physical health, and the distance consumes the better part of their day as sometimes they have to make the trek thrice to meet their needs.

There is no getting away from this arduous, tortuous task no matter which state of sickness or health they are in. Girls as young as eight years carry a container their physical capacity would allow them, and trudge along with their mothers in search of water.

Bringing water is such a gender specific task that all waking hours of the females revolve around it. This not just compromises their physical well being but also deprives them of a chance to acquire education.

The simple nature based solution that Indus Earth Trust settled on was to ensure the presence of water around the year closer to the scattered villages, by excavating those natural depressions so they could become a large reservoir that could store a lot more water than was otherwise possible.


By adhering to the principle of minimal interference with nature, the reservoirs filled as a result of rain water harvesting, have been left unlined, to facilitate the replenishment of the aquifer through ground-water recharge, that meets with Coca-Cola’s objectives.

Through a specialized method of quantifying the amount of replenishment, in the past 1 year since the project began, LimnoTech’s quantification shows 150.4 Million Litre replenished through these 24 reservoirs.

This is just an indicator of the benefits of looking for low tech, simple Nature Based Solutions to solving problems related to Water.

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also read:

Another intervention in Kohistan:


Written by afiasalam

March 22, 2018 at 8:41 pm

Let’s ‘Disrupt’ Pakistan!

IMG-20171104-WA0032Disrupt? really? Does that raise eyebrows? Were you taken aback? Well let me tell you right off the bat that a dinosaur like me certainly was! God forbid.. bite your tongue, rolling of the eyes so on and so forth!

And that is when I learnt that actually, there is a lot of weight in the saying that ‘understand the context first.’ Well the context of the word disruptive for a dinosaur like me only had negative connotations! It was synonymous with destruction and disturbance. It meant rocking the boat, making waves, kicking people out of their comfort zones. Now I know that makes a lot of people uncomfortable.img-20171104-wa0031.jpg

But oh well sometimes the company you keep pushes your boundaries. Now I interact with the communities #geeks and #techies, through their guru, my school friend @Jehan Ara who takes them under their wing as the Big Bird at the tech incubator she heads at the @The Nest I/O in #Karachi

This is a fraternity that has spun the meaning of the word on its head and attached all the possible positives with it as they could find. So in their ecosystem, ‘disrupt’ means shaking up an archaic, stagnant system that is not responsive to the needs of the changing times. It means not just bypassing a system that serves more as a stumbling block than as a facilitator, but by charting a new system that democratizes opportunities and takes them to the boundaries of the outliers.

In a connected, shrinking world where technology is making history of so many traditional market places and services, they feel they can get their share of the pie if they strike out like they see small startups making exponential growth at the global level. So many global leaders have emerged out of garages that it gives hopes to the new generation of entrepreneurs who want to tap into the new world that values ideas and knowledge before it looks at anything tangible and physical like a merchandise produced at a physical space.

The energy seen on the opening day of the #021Disrupt Conference hosted by #TheNestiO shows that there are many out there who are not willing to wait for the ‘system’ to fall into place. They want legislation, taxation reforms, infrastructure like incubation centres that provide them the tools, mentorship and investment on a day before yesterday basis.

They got to hear from the experts.. on tech startup who made it big, from technology giants like google about the tools available to help them, from venture capitalists who informed them how perception management of the country is important. They were unanimous in their opinion that that was the responsibility of the entire ecosystem to do that.

The encouraging thing is the size of the Pakistan market because of its population size. This is why it stands a good chance to draw in investment, just like India, Indonesia. Turkey, East Africa and Middle East will also draw it but Middle East’s total population maybe large but is divided in 22 countries.

Pakistan is a growing market with a lot of potential for investment eventually. However, local investment will attract global funding. Before that there needs to be an ecosystem that needs to shed its cumbersome regulatory top down approach. There are many grey areas that need to be navigated as far as SECP and FBR are concerned.

One common thread from the The payment cycle for start ups is one of the main reasons for failure, aside from a lack of a good enough team. But interconnected to the issue of payment is the route of payment as #Paypal still is not there and the #fintech solutions being worked through the State Bank of Pakistan need to be easier to use.

On the subject of failure, which cropped up repeatedly in the conversations of various panelists, the common theme was to view it as a learning process. But the learning also needs to be at the end of the venture capitalists which need to be data driven. Also all digital innovation has mostly been adopted not by the traditionalists but by the fringe.

The encouraging note was that a market need is assessed, and solution to meet it was provided, and then came the connection with the regulator. If it was done the other way around, it would probably be a non starter.


Sidra Iqbal in a Fireside chat with Dr. Umar Saif

And this is why people like Dr. Umar Saif are so valuable where they are at the moment as they have gone with an understanding of the ecosystem into the corridors of power to disrupt the hidebound structures there. The only problem is, there aren’t enough such persons in #Pakistan with the clout needed to accelerate the disruption if we do not want to stay stuck in playing the game of catch!

So just a quarter of the proceedings done, and this dinosaur has now understood a new meaning of disruption, and understanding it as something really positive, and needed. So come on folks, let us disrupt Pakistan so propel it forward and leave the stagnant pool behind.

With some of the best Venture Capital firms meeting startups at the 021Disrupt, this opportunity is something the tech sector was just waiting for to get that much needed leg up. Let us see how they are able to capitalize on it.





Written by afiasalam

November 4, 2017 at 9:02 am

Memons on my mind!

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Now we all know the nexus between Memons and money.. well if one community knows how to put the money where the mouth is, it is them. From building hospitals to schools and orphanages and mosques, to technical training institutes to so many other philanthropic ventures, they have done it all Yes yes there are palatial houses and flashy cars and glitz and glamour too, but besides all that, this is a community of doers that shares and cares.

So while all of Pakistani cricket lovers crib about being starved of their beloved game, they pulled open the pursestrings and launched the Memon Super League in style! And because nothing succeeds like success, are now into its second season for which the players draft has been held and 7 teams chosen who will be facing off against one another in three of Karachi’s best flood lit stadia.

I can perceive some raised eyebrows from people who have known me while reading this. Not because I am waxing lyrical about a community, but because I am talking about a ‘super league’ .. an oldie like me, who is way out of her league at there ‘player drafts’ and auctions, which somehow I always viewed with a bit of distaste and suspicion.

Why? Well it is all part of my growing up process into the game of cricket. In the age of the dinosaurs (Your’s Truly) Test cricket was not just the ‘real’ thing but it was the only thing! Even the Sunday League in England, that birthed the concept of One Day Cricket, started later (yes I know I am giving away my age by saying that).

However, rooted as i was in the cerebral contest that Test cricket was, I was still young enough to welcome and enjoy the advent of limited overs’ cricket in the form of ODIs. This is why when my cricket writing idol, Omer Kureishi, whose writing and commentary had a deep imprint on my cricket learning, said that ‘it was not cricket,’ i put it down to him being a purist and a traditionalist.

What I didn’t realize at that time was that this shortened version would be further truncated to the Americanish, slam bang T20 format! Now here I was echoing Omer Saheb, we we all called him… by lamenting, albeit weakly, that ‘this is not cricket.’

But then came the IPS, BPS, PSL et all.. and i thought we had all lost our way, as sure THIS couldn’t be cricket! OMG..they buy and sell players? and what’s with these skimpily dressed women cavorting along the boundary line. And what in tarnations is this Power Play etc. I was keeping pace till electronic umpire was introduced but then i let go of the game that was the air i breathed and food i ate. Until these Memons drew me in, to my own surprise:


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Shoaib Mohammad

It took Pakistan star opener Shoaib Mohammad, scion of the legendary Mohammad family, who had graciously accepted the invitation to come and show support, to take me through the paces and explain to me how the entire system worked. He was familiar with many of the persons present, and felt confident that they would be able to make it a very successful tournament, given their past experience in the promotion of the game.

And when Emmad Hameed started the auction (shudder shudder) of the players, my young friend Faisal Kapadia probably saw my expression and came to explain that it isn’t always about Memons and money… as the points being used by the team owners are of non-monetary value (phew).

As as i said before.. I was drawn in. Boy oh boy i thought it was just the game on the field that could get competitive but i was wrong. The auction was as competitive as it gets! Guess cricket excites emotions on and off the field. The Memons sure knew their boys, but they also roped in non-Memon players to allow the boys from their community to get the flavour of competitive cricket, and get a crack at the bigger league of the game.

That basically is the aspiration. The destination. To play in the big league with the big boys. The journey to that destination is the Memon Super League, now in its second season, and garnering support from some big sponsors who have invested to give the boys a chance to play at three of the best flood lit grounds of Karachi, the Rashid Latif Academy, The Asghar Ali Shah Stadium, and the tucked away in a corner but a very well maintained IBA stadium at the Karachi University.

With specially prepared colourful kits for the teams (Memons.. textile business.. you know.. wink wink) and attractive prizes, the boys are all set to set the grounds alight with the willow and leather. So come independence day on August 14, 2017, and we shall see a lot of engaging, entertaining cricketing activity in different parts of the city. What better way to gain independence from boredom and cricket starvation.

Yes Yes.. I admit to accepting T20 as cricket as it lights up the faces of the legion of fans this game has. Let is have cricket. More of it the better.. Theek chey?

Press release MSL – Auction (updated ) (1)

Once upon a Christmas in a Town called Hussain D’Silva

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I was introduced to Christmas for the merry-christmasfirst time as a four year old when we moved to Karachi. I was put in a ‘Christian’ (NOT Missionary) school, and lived in the upper portion of a house where a Christian family lived, whose daughter was my classmate. Being a diffident newcomer, I tailed her in school, and recall being gently led out of the chapel where she had to go for her religious class. I can’t for the life of me remember what we non-Christians were taught at that time.

So that is how i experienced my first Christmas, saw a Christmas tree, and exchange of gifts. But my real, and most memorable Christmas experiences were when we moved to a small housing colony (not gated, Thank you!) in North Nazimabad, known as Hussain D’Silva Town.

Strange name, but very apt; it was a joining of the names of two friends who were architects and developers, one of whom, Mr. Hussain passed away a few years ago while Mr. D’Silva moved to Canada. Little did they know what a little intellectual oasis they were forming.  Some big names of the country in journalism, arts, in the armed forces, advertising industry, poets, writers and television personalities trace their roots to Hussain D’Silva Town.

This little housing colony developed in the late 50’s for the new upwardly mobile middle class was where I got my first taste of pluralism and diversity. Our house was next to the one housing a Church. In those peaceful, trusting times, few houses had gates and most had waist high walls that were no barrier to children visiting their neighbours. I of course was intrigued at the stream of people coming to the church in the evening, yes, every evening, not just Sunday, and would watch over the wall.

The neighbourhood was dotted with houses belonging to Muslims of all sects (though we didn’t know what that word meant at the time), Christians, a lone Hindu family and I think there was one Parsi family.  We as children had no clue why some neighbours had open house for Haleem and others for koondey. Everyone went there. Come Moharram, and all of the children would be part of the sabeel group. On eid we knew there were some familieid-mubarakes who went to somewhere other than the mohalla masjid  for their eid prayers because they were from the Ahmadiya community, but that only meant that we had to wait for them to return so the children could get together to go around on the eidi collection mission.

It was here that I learnt what Christmas was. It was a time when the Christian schoolmates and neighbours would decorate their houses, go shopping for new clothes, and presents, and ‘do up’ the St. Jude’s Church, which had moved from the neighbouring house to a proper premises; a premises which had been ‘financed’ by those living in Hussain D’Silva Town, Muslims Hindus, Parsis, alongside the Christian residents,  by way of generous contribution to making the annual fete in November a success. Everyone dug into their pockets.

Of course this does not mean we were passive watchers of the Christmas preparations. Oh no. Just like they would come visit us, in all their finery, over both eids, on which the sawiyan and the meat from the sacrificial animals used to be sent to their houses too, minus our Hindu neighbours to whom we went fruits and mithai, Christmas was a busy time for us too.

After all, if we were hoping to consume the delicious melt-in-the mouth almond toffee or kur kurs or the divine cheeselets that were the staple Christmas fare, we had to do our share of the hard work. More than a week before Christmas, we would be at our friends, helping them unpack and string up the decoration items on the tree, help their moms in the arduous task of stirring the toffee or frying the other goodies. Other party of the ‘must be a part of Christmas rituals was seeing our friends go Christmas carolling… how can one forget the groups of carol singers moving through the streets in the cold winter nights. No one really snuggled in the beds, as how could one not listen, to the final ‘product’ after their weeks of practise.

Then of course on Christmas day, it was our turn to play the visitors, and we too would don our fine feathers and go for the Christmas visits, armed with presents, and devoured the goodies which included the ‘non-Christmassy cake’ especially plated up for the Muslim visitors as it was sans rum which was part and parcel of the Christmas fruit cake.

Those who had special friends among the Christians, like I luckily did, would receive a plateful of goodies on Christmas eve. The older and more adventurous ones joined their friends in the midnight mass at the Church. This was a norm, across Karachi, not just in Hussain D’Silva Town.

But imagine what proved to be the icing on the cake! not just metaphorically but literally! In 1974, Eid ul Azha and Christmas fell on the same day! The entire Town wore a festive look and the difference between visitor and hosts was no longer there. Every greeting elicited the answer of ‘same to you’ and ‘khair mubarak’ in a perfect display of coexistence.  I miss the Christmas in Hussain D’Silva Town. I wish my city of Karachi had many more such oasis.








Written by afiasalam

December 25, 2016 at 4:09 pm

Getting through December 21

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For almost a quarter of a century, getting through 21st December had been a difficult task. To cope with it, I deliberately kept myself busy. This was the day I lost my bulwark! The one person who allowed me to be what I am went out of my life, and for many years after that, it became a conscious exercise not to instinctively look for him to share my joys and achievements with, because he was no longer there.

Unlike many fathers, he never really encouraged, or discouraged me. He was that one constant, dependable presence who would be the fallback in case my mad escapades with career choices or hobbies wouldn’t work out. Thankfully they usually did, so I didn’t really have to be dissuaded from much. The emphatic NO was something I do not remember experiencing, because of the clearly defined boundaries.

The suddenness of his departure was the real reason of difficulty of dealing with December 21, until years later, another influential person helped to divert the thoughts because of the happiness associated with him and this date. My father’s death anniversary coincided with Little Master Hanif Mohammad’s birthday, which always merited a celebration.

He and his gracious family would always invite my children and me to the celebrations and despite the mind drifting all day to Dec.21 of 1990, the evening would be filled with laughter, music and celebration.

Today is the first December 21 that he too is not there, so i guess the day must be of mixed emotions for his family too.

Guess that is what life is all about.You move on.. memories remain.

Written by afiasalam

December 22, 2016 at 3:39 am

That date.. December 16th!

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16th. December should be a date seared into the psyche of Pakistanis right? But is it? Twice this date has brought immeasurable grief to Pakistan.Grief, ignominy, shame, pain, loss, and a lingering question of why it happened and could it have been prevented.

I am of course referring to the two cataclysmic events in our history; events that led to the fall of Dhaka (Dacca as it was known as in those days) on 16th, December 1971, and the murder of our innocent school children and their brave teachers in the Peshawar Army Public School on the same date in 2014.

What do you remember about December 1971?  I was still in school, but old enough to remember the 1965 war, which just brushed by the Karachiites, so the sight of tracer bullets in the sky was something strange on that cold December night in 1971 when Karachi was attacked. Because of 1965 and the the belief that was fed to us post 1965, until Air Marshal Nur Khan busted the myth, we were sure that since  we had won the 1965 war, we would overcome the enemy in this one too.

After all, weren’t we holding out in East Pakistan despite great difficulty? Didn’t we just hear our President Yahya Khan say we would defeat the enemy? It was all over the newspapers too and of course the contrarian news on BBC was just plain lies and that Mark Tully was anti-Pakistan anyway!

Even when the entire city lit up due to the missile strike on the oil tanks at Karachi’s shoreline, where my father worked; even  the shaking of the ground due to the bombing by Indian Aircraft which led to loss of life in areas like Agra Taj colony, it didn’t really shake us out of the belief that ultimately we would prevail. Despite the immense sadness at loss of precious lives in the missile attack on our naval ship Khyber in which a dear neighbour went down, the enormity of the situation was lost on us because of the narrative we were consuming.

And on December 16, that sanitized narrative spoke of a ‘ceasefire agreement’  and laying down of the arms by ‘Tiger’ Niazi in Dhaka. We didn’t understand the ashen faces of our elders, many of whom wept like children. Fall of Dhaka was a term coined much later. The attention shifted from us schoolgirls going house to house collecting for the defence funds to collecting stuff to make packets for the POWs. That became part and parcel of the school activities which had resumed soon after.

Fast forward many years to when I was working with a leading channel of the country. I was responsible for the content of our morning show that was 180 degrees opposed to the kind of shows aired these days. It handled important subjects sensitively and intelligently through the @Ayeshah Alam and @Faisal Qureishi duo.

We did special programmes on special occasions. When I suggested that December 16 should be dedicated to this unfortunate chapter in our national history, there were raised eyebrows, but only because some in the team, the generation that grew up after 1971, were not aware of the significance of the day. They however readily agreed.

However the initial reaction had given me another idea.. to spur the discussion, we sent a reporter, @Huzaima Bukhari to an elite school to ask what the significance of that date was. The answers were too embarrassing to even narrate here. The reporter called back to say she had not been able to get one correct answer. We told her to go to the history teacher to ask why none of the children knew the answer and no marks for guessing what she said!

We, a nation of  ostriches, just buried our head in the sand, and moved on as if nothing happened from which lessons needed to be drawn. True to the saying that ‘we learn from history, that we never learn from history,’ we kept alienating our own, we kept on a path of discriminatory development, making the wrong friends, creating enemies right left and center, and nurturing snakes in the backyard.

Fast forward again to another 16th. December, in 2014, when these snakes hissed and bit us, at the Army Public School in Peshawar. The heart kept sinking lower and the entire atmosphere bore a pall of gloom as news of the attack trickled in. Not just Pakistan but everywhere those images of brutality against the innocent students and their brave teachers went, people recoiled in shock and horror. There was not a dry eye when the parents bid farewell to their beloved children. Toughest of journalists broke down when they went to APS.

The State seemed to suddenly wake from its slumber and resolved not to forgive, or forget. while offering the salve of ‘martydom’ of these children, who had been brutally murdered. It launched the Zarb e Azb. The shock and awe treatment was supposed to have wiped out these barbarians. The National Action Plan was supposed to ACT against all those elements who were perpetrators of horror against our soldiers, our children, the ordinary persons in the street going about their business in bazaars, the people in masjid, mandir, imambargahs and churches.

Today, two years after APS, we again remember those innocent souls and pray for the families who lost their loved ones. There are promises of never forgetting them. But in between there are many others who jostle for a place in our collective memories. Shirakpur reminds us that the NAP was perhaps napping, the large gatherings of the proscribed organizations, the threats hurled by sectarian organizations, the targeting of ‘minorities’ (the word I hate to use, because for me constitutionally, there are none); the glorification of killers like Mumtaz Qadri, the intransigence of Lal masjid mula Abdul Aziz, and the deep deep sorrow of the people of Quetta like the Hazaras, families of police cadets and its entire generation of young lawyers indicate inaction rather than any action or a plan.

After what recently happened in Chakwal to the Ahmadiyya community, can we really say that there is a NAP? Even after what Justice Qazi Faez Isa has put down in the Quetta Inquiry Commission Report?

Can we really claim that we will never forget December 16?







Written by afiasalam

December 16, 2016 at 10:18 am

Hospital, Gilchrist & cricketing DNA!

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When one visits someone in the hospital, the conversation usually is about the hows and how are yous, doctors, medicines, and what have you… besides of course  expression of good wishes for the patient and prayers for a speedy recovery, and offer of assistance to the caregivers.  Hardly, if ever, it veers too far away from the topic.

Well I was in for a different lesson in my hospital visit to see a very dear person who has been very ill. I also realized that while in Urdu, if something becomes a distinct character trait, we usually say ‘yeh uski ghutti mein hai;’ the closest phrase to it in English is the contemporary term of something being a part of the DNA! I know it is usually said as a form of exaggeration, but how true it actually is hit home today.

The legendary cricketer Hanif Mohammad, our Little Master has been very ill, and hospitalised for days. Yes he has been battling cancer, very bravely, but what got him into the hospital was a severe chest infection, because of which he was barely able to speak. Aggressive treatment and admission to the special care unit stablized but exhausted him out, so that he was in a deep sleep for hours.

The visitors too were careful, talking in barely audible whispers so as not to disturb him. However, as he opened his eyes, he spotted former Pakistan captain Mohammad Yousuf standing by his bedside and after the greetings and inquiries about the health were over, launched into a purely cricketing discussion, reminiscing about when he almost got a century in each innings against Australia, thwarted by a bad umpiring decision, which of course he didn’t contest and walked off, but which was admitted to by the opposition players as well.

While his son Shoaib attempted to take charge of the conversation by recounting the incident, Hanif Mohammad, who had woken up when our conversation had probably risen above the level of whispers, was absolutely lucid in his interjections. The drawl in his voice was there due to the weakness but there was not a hint of uncertainty about the games of long ago. I immediately understood that this clarity was because  it was cricket he was talking about which was in his ghutti… in his DNA… which no illness could alter!

Call from another Pakistan captain, Zaheer Abbas meant that the conversation stayed the course, with Hanif Mohammd complimenting  the caller by reminding him of his title of Asian Bradman and of his several double centuries. Such clarity after serious illness? Deep drug and exhaustion induced sleep? Nah! put it down to DNA!

IMG_20160802_215456And then came Gilchrist in the room… that fearsome West Indian pacer, the nemesis of all batsmen in the line of his lethal projectiles.

Aided by Shoaib, Hanif Mohammad took us on a trip down his memory lane to that glorious match at Barbados in the West Indies where he not only faced the fearsome Gilchrist, but walked right into the record books with his knock spread over 999 minutes… erroneously written in the Wisden as 16 hrs. 10 minutes.

(The actual duration of the longest innings to date in Test cricket has been mentioned as 16 hrs 39 mins … with its entire commentary etched onto a LonIMG_20160802_215148g Play record presented to him after the match.)

Innings that started with Pakistan in dire straits, following-on with a deficit of 473 as the score card would show, a familiar situation for the young Hanif Mohammad.

IMG_20160802_215251He faced the pacers any which way he could, in the days of folded towels inside pockets serving as cushioned guards, and flimsy (by today’s standards) pads, NO HELMETS, and certainly no No Ball calls from the umpires to the beamers aimed at the head by Gilchrist each time his ball was hit for a four!

Gilchrist was the stuff of every batsman’s nightmare, with arms dangling down to below knees, and a fiery temper spurring his catapulting of the ball out of his hands at speeds hitherto unknown. Hanif recalled with a chuckle how even a slight touch of the bat would make the ball race to the boundary, simply because it came at him with such great speed.IMG_20160802_215154

The father and son recounted Gilchrist’s vile temper which ultimately led him to being jailed for assault and battery as he had hit his wife with an iron! And to think that our diminutive  Little Master faced him and his ilk of equally ferocious fast bowlers simply on the dint of his determination and technique.

IMG_20160802_215420This firmly established him as the mainstay of Pakistan’s batting line up and earned him accolades across the cricketing world and recognition at home from the highest quarters. 337 with 26 fours, 16 threes, 40 twos and 105 singles were no mean feat!

Between his daughter in law Shazia and my exhortations to him not to speak too much, I couldn’t suppress a smile on his very matter of fact answer ‘well he didn’t really get to hit me on my pads’ (of course… perfect technique after all) when Shoaib asked if Gilchrist’s deliveries hit the body!

DNA again eh? The frailties of the physical body have done nothing to the sharp mind and wonderful memory. Get well soon Hanif Bhai. May we accompany you on many more of these trips down memory lane.


All pictures from Hanif Mohammad’s autobiography “Playing For Pakistan”








Written by afiasalam

August 2, 2016 at 9:36 pm