Call of the wild
Untamed spirit marks silver jubilee of pioneering wildlife magazine
Editor-in-Chief of Wildlife & Environment Syed Khursheed Ali
KARACHI:
Think of a country where men are killed for belonging to a different sect, a different ethnicity, a different faith, a different political ideology, or simply because they have a different lifestyle; where women are killed for being too liberal, too independent, or simply because they refuse to conform to the 'sacrosanct' societal norms; where humanity is increasingly becoming dehumanised; and where political and religious leaders have become three monkeys that see no evil, hear no evil and speak no evil.
Now, think of someone in this country who cares for animals and beasts. Unthinkable? Think again.
Let me introduce Syed Khursheed Ali, a sexagenarian journalist, who has spent nearly half of his life raising awareness about wildlife and environment in our country where there is little, if no empathy, for human life. Ali is Editor-in-Chief of a bi-monthly magazine, Wildlife & Environment, one of a kind in Pakistan. He has been editing this magazine for the past 24 years, but has never been acknowledged, officially or unofficially, for his remarkable work.
Ali is a one-man organisation with an itinerant office. "I do all the legwork myself. I don't have an office or staff to help me. I can't afford it either," says Ali who doesn't own a bicycle, let alone a motorcycle or a car. "I've little to boast of, but I consider myself the uncrowned king of Karachi," he says with a boisterous burst of laughter. Wonder how does he manage all this in old age? "I'm a young man in old man's husk," cracks up Ali, as he takes off his horn-rimmed glasses to expose a pair of watery eyes in his wizened face.
David Knocks, then head of British Petroleum in Pakistan, was a big support when Ali took out his magazine in the late 1980s. "A 25,000-rupee BP ad had been a regular feature in my magazine until 9/11 when the family moved to Canada. "Knocks' wife Klarry was a big fan of my magazine. She sent me $5,000 twice from Canada," Ali recalls. And when he asked why she heaped so many favours on him, she said, "Mr Ali, you're doing a great job in this country. Had you been in Europe or America, you would have been a millionaire by now."
Ali has always been inspired by beauty. "I love beauty because beauty is the manifestation of love in form," he says, dismissing my own impression that old age affects our aesthetic appreciation. "The beautiful nature has been to me a source of solace, inspiration, adventure and delight." And this was the motivation behind Wildlife & Environment.
"When I studied in Jamia Millia College in the early '60s, one day I rented a cycle from Nunna Cyclewala and pedalled my way across Malir Naddi (stream) to Khokhrapar. The scenic beauty, the lush green fields, the fruit orchards, the chirping of birds - everything was so fascinating that I fell in love with the place," says Ali recalling his first encounter with nature. "It was heaven on earth. I started going there every weekend. One day I was sitting under a huge banyan tree, when an inquisitive young resident approached me and asked: 'What do you do in this wilderness?' I said: "These trees talk to me." The young nodded his head in disbelief and walked away," says Ali.
In 1967, Ali graduated from Government Commerce College, one of the premier commerce colleges of Pakistan back then. He tried his luck in a couple of jobs, but his mercurial nature didn't allow him to settle. "In the mid-'80s, I became friends with Razi Khan, the Editor of Science Digest, the most widely circulated science magazine of Pakistan of the time," recalls Ali. "I owe to Razi whatever journalism I learnt."
The success of Razi's magazine inspired Ali to bring out a magazine on wildlife. "I didn't know even the 'W' of wildlife, but Anwar Khan, a very learned officer of Sindh Wildlife Department, helped and encouraged me," says Ali. "In those days, the father-in-law of Field Marshal Gen Ayub Khan used to publish a yearly magazine on wildlife," Ali adds trying hard to recall its name, but in vain. "A friend arranged a few issues of the magazine. I read them cover to cover until I had a fairly good idea how my magazine would look like."
In 1988, Ali took out Wildlife & Environment as a souvenir. The feedback was beyond his expectations. "One day, I went to the office of Khalid Shamsul Hassan, the then head of National Bank's public relations department and brother of Pakistan's former high commissioner to the UK Wajid Shamsul Hassan," says Ali. "I was nervous. I couldn't gather the courage to introduce my magazine straightaway," he says. "'What brought you here?' asked Khalid. With hands trembling, I pulled out a copy of the magazine from a khaki envelope and put it on his table," Ali recalls. "Before I could say something, Khalid stood up and shook my hands. 'So you're the editor of this beautiful magazine?'" said Khalid who had already seen my magazine somewhere." And Ali started getting an NBP ad for the magazine for several years to come.
However, it wasn't easy to keep the magazine going. Ads are the lifeline for a private publication.
And it's not easy to convince a business or a public body to advertise in your publication, especially when you don't have a marketing team. Ali ran into financial troubles several times, but he refused to give up. "It's my mission. It's my passion. It's my love," says Ali. "The earth's flora and fauna are a shared inherited treasure that we must preserve for our children's future."
Recently, hundreds of trees were chopped down on Superhighway to make space for a cattle market. Ali cried, as if he has lost a dear one. "The trees which move some to tears of joy is in the eye of others only a green thing that stands in the way," says Ali. "We abuse nature because we consider it as a commodity belonging to us."
This year Ali will be celebrating the silver jubilee of his magazine. It's toil of his life, which didn't give him anything but self-satisfaction. "I don't want to make money. I don't want national or international recognition. All I want is that my humble effort should not die. It should live on as long as I'm alive, and, if possible, beyond that," Ali adds. "And this is not a big ask."
Published in The Express Tribune, October 17th, 2016.
Think of a country where men are killed for belonging to a different sect, a different ethnicity, a different faith, a different political ideology, or simply because they have a different lifestyle; where women are killed for being too liberal, too independent, or simply because they refuse to conform to the 'sacrosanct' societal norms; where humanity is increasingly becoming dehumanised; and where political and religious leaders have become three monkeys that see no evil, hear no evil and speak no evil.
Now, think of someone in this country who cares for animals and beasts. Unthinkable? Think again.
Let me introduce Syed Khursheed Ali, a sexagenarian journalist, who has spent nearly half of his life raising awareness about wildlife and environment in our country where there is little, if no empathy, for human life. Ali is Editor-in-Chief of a bi-monthly magazine, Wildlife & Environment, one of a kind in Pakistan. He has been editing this magazine for the past 24 years, but has never been acknowledged, officially or unofficially, for his remarkable work.
Ali is a one-man organisation with an itinerant office. "I do all the legwork myself. I don't have an office or staff to help me. I can't afford it either," says Ali who doesn't own a bicycle, let alone a motorcycle or a car. "I've little to boast of, but I consider myself the uncrowned king of Karachi," he says with a boisterous burst of laughter. Wonder how does he manage all this in old age? "I'm a young man in old man's husk," cracks up Ali, as he takes off his horn-rimmed glasses to expose a pair of watery eyes in his wizened face.
David Knocks, then head of British Petroleum in Pakistan, was a big support when Ali took out his magazine in the late 1980s. "A 25,000-rupee BP ad had been a regular feature in my magazine until 9/11 when the family moved to Canada. "Knocks' wife Klarry was a big fan of my magazine. She sent me $5,000 twice from Canada," Ali recalls. And when he asked why she heaped so many favours on him, she said, "Mr Ali, you're doing a great job in this country. Had you been in Europe or America, you would have been a millionaire by now."
Ali has always been inspired by beauty. "I love beauty because beauty is the manifestation of love in form," he says, dismissing my own impression that old age affects our aesthetic appreciation. "The beautiful nature has been to me a source of solace, inspiration, adventure and delight." And this was the motivation behind Wildlife & Environment.
"When I studied in Jamia Millia College in the early '60s, one day I rented a cycle from Nunna Cyclewala and pedalled my way across Malir Naddi (stream) to Khokhrapar. The scenic beauty, the lush green fields, the fruit orchards, the chirping of birds - everything was so fascinating that I fell in love with the place," says Ali recalling his first encounter with nature. "It was heaven on earth. I started going there every weekend. One day I was sitting under a huge banyan tree, when an inquisitive young resident approached me and asked: 'What do you do in this wilderness?' I said: "These trees talk to me." The young nodded his head in disbelief and walked away," says Ali.
In 1967, Ali graduated from Government Commerce College, one of the premier commerce colleges of Pakistan back then. He tried his luck in a couple of jobs, but his mercurial nature didn't allow him to settle. "In the mid-'80s, I became friends with Razi Khan, the Editor of Science Digest, the most widely circulated science magazine of Pakistan of the time," recalls Ali. "I owe to Razi whatever journalism I learnt."
The success of Razi's magazine inspired Ali to bring out a magazine on wildlife. "I didn't know even the 'W' of wildlife, but Anwar Khan, a very learned officer of Sindh Wildlife Department, helped and encouraged me," says Ali. "In those days, the father-in-law of Field Marshal Gen Ayub Khan used to publish a yearly magazine on wildlife," Ali adds trying hard to recall its name, but in vain. "A friend arranged a few issues of the magazine. I read them cover to cover until I had a fairly good idea how my magazine would look like."
In 1988, Ali took out Wildlife & Environment as a souvenir. The feedback was beyond his expectations. "One day, I went to the office of Khalid Shamsul Hassan, the then head of National Bank's public relations department and brother of Pakistan's former high commissioner to the UK Wajid Shamsul Hassan," says Ali. "I was nervous. I couldn't gather the courage to introduce my magazine straightaway," he says. "'What brought you here?' asked Khalid. With hands trembling, I pulled out a copy of the magazine from a khaki envelope and put it on his table," Ali recalls. "Before I could say something, Khalid stood up and shook my hands. 'So you're the editor of this beautiful magazine?'" said Khalid who had already seen my magazine somewhere." And Ali started getting an NBP ad for the magazine for several years to come.
However, it wasn't easy to keep the magazine going. Ads are the lifeline for a private publication.
And it's not easy to convince a business or a public body to advertise in your publication, especially when you don't have a marketing team. Ali ran into financial troubles several times, but he refused to give up. "It's my mission. It's my passion. It's my love," says Ali. "The earth's flora and fauna are a shared inherited treasure that we must preserve for our children's future."
Recently, hundreds of trees were chopped down on Superhighway to make space for a cattle market. Ali cried, as if he has lost a dear one. "The trees which move some to tears of joy is in the eye of others only a green thing that stands in the way," says Ali. "We abuse nature because we consider it as a commodity belonging to us."
This year Ali will be celebrating the silver jubilee of his magazine. It's toil of his life, which didn't give him anything but self-satisfaction. "I don't want to make money. I don't want national or international recognition. All I want is that my humble effort should not die. It should live on as long as I'm alive, and, if possible, beyond that," Ali adds. "And this is not a big ask."
Published in The Express Tribune, October 17th, 2016.