I once gained a fair amount of notoriety after reading out a Punjabi poem in a literary social gathering many years ago. The verses had occurred to me on seeing how people of my generation generally held the child inside them hostage – binding it in fetters of ‘dignified senior citizenship’. My inspiration to assume the role of poet stemmed from the fact that I and my group of friends have happily considered ‘old age’ as a ‘state of mind’. We firmly believe that in order to keep senility at bay, we must frequently set the child inside us free.
One of my favourite boyhood pastimes was (and continues to be) reading Dell Comic Books. Our little band of youngsters bought and exchanged these magazines in a never ending activity. We were very popular in two Lahore book stores – the Book Center (on the Mall) and Imperial Book Depot (on Regal Chowk). Our popularity with the people, who ran these shops was due to the fact that we were their regular and most profitable customers.
My favourite comic characters were the Chipmunk Duo called Chip and Dale. Chip was the street smart intelligent end of the pair, while Dale was his opposite. Chipmunks are cousins to our native grey squirrel and only the experts can tell the difference. There was a time, when these tiny rodents could be seen scrambling up and down the trees in Lahore. They had three black stripes running down their back and a bushy tail that stood up vertically, when danger threatened. In such a situation this ‘flag’ went up and down in synch with each alarm call made by the creature, in a most comical manner.
Then came the ‘concrete and steel revolution’ fanned by those, whose only motive in life was mass commercialisation. Trees were mercilessly cut down to make way for broad asphalt roads, flyovers and plazas. While humans reaped the fruits of modernisation, the squirrels lost their habitats and gradually vanished. Mercifully enough, it was in the cantonment area and some spots in DHA that these creatures could still be seen.
My affair with the squirrel began as a small boy, who accompanied his uncle on frequent Saturdays to the latter’s laboratory in the Zoology Department of the Punjab University, across the road and opposite the Main Gate of the Government College. To me, these visits were nothing short of ecstatic excitement and adventure. The gigantic wall mounted Gharials, stuffed animals and skeletons in the department museum came to life in a fantasy packed imagination. The best part of the day was my weekly reunion with the menagerie of pet squirrels bearing names such as Margaret and Elizabeth. These creatures had been hand reared as tiny babies and were totally free of fear. Their favourite game was to sit on my shoulders nibbling away at the nuts that I always carried in my pockets.
When I settled in the Federal Capital, I searched in vain for the small loveable creatures, but was told that there were none in this part of the country. Then one day driving back from a friend’s house in suburban Islamabad, I saw a grey furry object scurry across the concrete road. I stopped the car and watched with unmitigated glee (much to the amusement of my driver) as the squirrel stopped on the other side, stood up on its hind legs and with a twitching nose looked at me as if I had intruded upon its privacy. Before I could take out my cell phone and click the camera, it disappeared amidst the bushes.
Happy to have seen ‘one’ squirrel and assuming that Islamabad is indeed a suitable habitat, I will now keep vigil in my garden in the hope that one day I will be rewarded with the sight of Chip and Dale’s kin making my trees their home. I will do this with the total approval of the child inside me oblivious of the looks that my family will cast my way.