Sajjan
(a 1989 Punjabi newspaper from Lahore for the people of Pakistani Punjab)
Celebrating Sajjan, a Punjabi newspaper that was closed down twenty two years ago
It seems unreal — a legend, a folklore or storyline of a cliff-hanger
— that a Lucknow-born, Urdu speaking renaissance man leads a group of
passionate volunteers to launch their first ever mother language Punjabi
newspaper in the Farsi script. It was the unparalleled dedication and
commitment of those young enthusiasts which changed the language scene
in Lahore and
veteran journalist and activist Husain Naqi was the man.
What a name they opted for:
Sajjan (Friend, Partner, Soulmate), this Punjabi word makes me believe in love and life in the darkest of times.
Sajjan was launched on February 3, 1989 from Lahore with a
meagre amount of Rs1,76,606 from ordinary Punjabi lovers. All the staff
except a few office workers was voluntary and without allowances or
perks. Many of them did day jobs in far-off cities, travelling hundreds
of miles, spending from their own pocket and landing back in the
Sajjan office every evening, working till late. For about 21 months they did this just for the sake of their mother language.
Ajeet Cour, a Lahore born, short story writer based in Delhi wrote
about the endeavour, “I came to know about Zafaryab Ahmad, Jameel Paul,
Iqbal Qaiser, Siddiq Babar, Abbas Ali Siddiqi, Ilyas Ghumman, Zubair
Ahmad and other Punjabi enthusiasts who are working voluntarily for
Punjabi newspaper
Sajjan. In just eight months they are printing
30,000 copies and each copy is being read by forty odd people so their
circulation has reached millions. Looking at their sincerity, dedication
and passion, I wish to bow my head in respect.”
This effort will have entered the history books if ancient Harappans
were still alive or the land of five rivers had not gradually dried up.
Thanks to Iqbal Qaiser’s RãtãN HoiyãN VadyãN (Nights have got longer):
Rvel publications, Lahore, 1992 that this love story is not all lost yet.
Iqbal Qaiser has done a great job by compiling the details immediately
after the newspaper was closed down when all the memories were fresh and
wounds open. He has not only collected day to day events but has also
provided photographs, contributions and brief biographical sketches of
all involved in this effort. They were from all over Punjab: Lahore,
Kasur, Vehari, Sialkot, Toba Tek Singh, Sahiwal, Gujranwala, Faisalabad
and Khushab to the name the few. But friend Akram Varraich and his
Wazirabad topped the list; there were above twelve volunteers from that
one city. Mushtaq Soofi took leave from PTV to work at Sajjan’s
editorial board and Zafar Jamal was there each evening after finishing
his day at college. Najm Husain Syed, Shafqat Tanvir Mirza, Cartoonist
Feeqa, Painter Ahmed Zoy, Maqsood Saqib, Waseem Dukhya and only female
volunteer Najma Parveen Najmi along with many of their comrades were
Sajjan’s support system.
Iqbal Qaiser elaborates how the Punjabi elite shunned them when they
knocked at their doors for support. He has named and humiliated them
from Fakhar Zaman, Hanif Ramay, Meraj Khalid, Aitzaz Ahsan, Abida
Hussain to the Sharif brothers. Eventually they turned to ordinary
public for help and the response was awesome: a housewife sent Rs100, a
school boy promised to buy
Sajjan from his pocket money, a
painter offered to paint banners for free, theatre director Huma Safdar
and short fiction writer Zoya Sajid donated their gold jewellery and a
gentleman from Karachi even offered to sell his kidney to help.
Back in those days, they had no telephones, no tele printers and no
advertisements and within first four months initial funds were
exhausted:
“Vairee JãN Daa Kull Jahãn Hoya,
Sajjan Ik Naa Aadmi Shehr Daa
Ay”
(Whole world has turned against me; I can’t find a single friend
here).
Therefore, it was decided to print and appeal to its readers for
their suggestions and help. Response was overwhelming, so price of the
newspaper was increased, Sajjan committees were formed in all major
cities and a street theatre play written by Raja Rasalu was launched to
collect funds.
In those hard times alongside Benazir Bhutto’s federal government it
was Sindh provincial government who came to their support offering them
advertisements till the end. If there was one discouraging hand it was
the provincial government of Punjab. On the first anniversary of
Sajjan one of the banner carried a slogan coined by Aslam Dogar
Shukriyya Punjab Sarkaar,
Ik saal wich Ik Ishtehaar
(Thank you Punjab government for your generosity of giving us one ad in one year).
Sajjan also got support from National Press Trust and Syed
Ajmal Hussain memorial trust but it was not enough to sustain the
newspaper. The Marquezian moment was soon approaching and closure seemed
inevitable. We experience a grievously sad scene when the final
decision was made to seize its publication. Raja Rasalu is dragging
himself downstairs, Iqbal Qaisar and Mustajab Gohar are sitting silently
on the corners of the sofa and tears are flowing down their eyes and
the reporting table is empty.
Was
Sajjan an idea that never dies or failure of a community as a whole or success of the impossible? Will there ever be another
Sajjan; who knows?
Sajjan was closed down twenty two years ago but we can still
breathe the love and passion which was instilled in the air by those
selfless Punjabis at the expense of their own lives, families and
careers:
“Tainu Hor Mandda Kee BolãN,
Vay Taira Kittay Neoh Lag Jã’ay”
(Let me wish you the worst, May you fall in love).
