LAST week I took my grandchildren, Manak and Anhad, to two important historical places, Waris Shah`s shrine and Hiran Minar Park. If you go via M2 you can reach Hiran Minar from Lahore in less than an hour. It`s quite close to the motorway. You take your exit from Hiran Minar Interchange. The local road is good and access is easy.

One has strange feelings while reflecting that the motorway bigwigs love kings more than poets.

They chose to name the interchange after Emperor Jahangir`s pet. They have conveniently ignored the wellknown fact that the area has been historically known and celebrated as Waris Shah`s ancestral home.

They preferred a Mughal tyrant to the greatest poet of Punjab betraying their umbilical link for the state ideology built on the so-called glory of foreign kings and rulers who boasted of not belonging here.

Tourism, Archaeology and Museums Department, Government ofPunjab`s web says: `The Minar Built in country bricks was constructed under orders of Emperor Jahangir in about 1606 A.D. It was built in the loving memory of his pet antelope named Mansraj, which was captured somewhere in this area originally a royal hunt reserve. Jahangir has mentioned in his Tuzk that near Jahangirpur (Present Sheikhupura) a minaret was raised by his orders) in 1051 AH 1606 at the grave of an antelope called Mansraj (sic).

It has a massive tower and baradari (a pavilion with 12 doors) and a massive pool. The monument, though maintained, needs repair work. Its soothing ambiance imperceptibly connects you with nature.

It`s interesting to note that a century later in his magnum opus Heer, Waris Shah hints at the abundance of this beautiful animal. Describing his protagonist Heer and a bevy of her friends, he says; `Pride intoxicated, wanton, with friends she roams, like Bar`s antelopes frolicking (trans Muzaffar Ghaffar).` After her forced marriage when Heer meets Ranjha, the male protagonist, this ishow the scene is described by her friends: `You too are femme fatale of Jhang Sial / now you encounter the deer of the Bar.

Sheikhupura, let`s remember, is part of the famous Sandal Bar (region) traditionally known for its wildlife. Here is what poet Mian Muhammad said about it in the late 19th century; `O deer, grazing on the grass of the Bar, beware, a hunter is readying himself to go after you.

While talking of Bar`s wildlife and Jahangir we drove to the other side of the motorway to reach Jandiala Sher Khan which is just a few miles away. A good carpeted road takes you to the shrine known as Darbar Waris Shah. It`s a spacious compound with boundary walls. Shops and kiosks line the entrance selling knick-knacks.

Waris Shah must be amused in his grave seeing all this; he critiqued the commercial mentality of his age and jokingly exposed the cut-throat mercantilist world of sailors and shopkeepers. But with his ironic grin, he would be comfortable with what can help people earn theirlivelihood. Despite having a vast and fecund imagination, he never got tired of being a realist. Thus there was nothing in the world of unpredictable humans that could surprise him. Inside the sanctum sanctorum there are three graves.

In the centre lies Waris Shah and on his right lies his father Gulsher Shah and on his left his brother.

Standing at his grave, a flurry of images overwhelmed me; a man born in a small village surrounded by the wild of Sandal Bar became the greatest poet of Punjab, a man who never married recomposed a tale of love and freedom that epitomised new roles of man and woman who rejected barriers imposed by class and caste and defied the gender discrimination, a young man went to Kasur and Lahore to get education, came back to his village and then undertook a journey to Lahore, Kasur, Depalpur and Pakpattan where he paid his salutation to the saint and first poet of his language Baba Farid, then headed towards Sahiwal and stayed at an ancient village Malka Haans andthere in the cell of a mosque he started writing his magnum opus Heer. How this journey turned into an odyssey of self-discovery that eventually ended up a grand tale of his society needs exploration.

One feels an ethereal sort of happiness seeing simple men, women and children offering their salaam to the bard, taking him as more of a saint. We came out and saw two men sitting on the grassy lawn in the soft sun. The senior gentleman seeing us started crooning. We sat down close to him. He said like a local philosopher: `Heer is the soul and Ranjha is the body. I am going to sing a stanza in which Heer`s soul talks to Ranjha; Heer aakhdi jogia, jhooth aakhen, kaun ruthray yar milavanda e (Heer says `O Jogi, yours is a false talk, who can bring the estranged lovers together?)`. It`s one of the most celebrated stanzas in which Ranjha after being initiated into the Jog/Yog comes to Heer`s place as a begging yogi and consoles her. It has nothing to do with the soul or things like that. But Maamun Divianwala, a good Heer singer,sells it as something spiritual.

Orthodox forces have such a tight grip on the people`s mind.

Like Ranjha Jogi we were starving when we left Jandiala Sher Khan. So we hit the motorway and headed towards the Sukheki service area. After having stuffed ourselves with our meal we drove back to Lahore.

A word about the motorway authorities would be in order. They chose a Mughal king--his pet to be precise-in preference to Waris Shah in his own land when it came to naming the places under their jurisdiction. But full of royal devotion they cannot maintain a motorway. While traveling on M2, my vehicle hit five potholes. Besides, shoddily repaired patches were not at level with the road. Lastly, I lost count of the patches not done right in the middle lane. And the motorway toll is no less than extortion. Where does the money go? History tells us royals and their cronies neither cared about the people`s bards nor about the money collected from the subjeets. soofi01@hotmail.com