Satyakama Iqbal

Iqbal Hussain was a wild teenager, expelled thrice from school. Working as a petrol pump attendant, he was persuaded to apply to the National College of Art. His sister paid his fees, having followed her mother into prostitution. Zia ul-Haq refused him gallery permission, so he exhibited his work on the pavement. Today Hussain is an assistant professor in his old college (which nearly refused him admission because of his origin), but runs Cooco’s to support his many dependents, especially old women. The World Bank displayed his work last June in its Islamabad office and has apparently promised a loan of nearly 48 million dollars over the next five years to the Pakistan government to upgrade life in Heera Mandi.

Doesn’t this brave man, who refused to lie about his birth, remind you of an ancient dweller of this very land, Satyakama Jabali? The Chandogya Upanishad tells us of a young boy who wished to learn and showed up at the ashram of Rishi Haridrumata Gautama. “What is your parentage, dear boy?” asked the rishi. “My mother Jabala does not know, since she worked as a maid in many houses and cannot precisely say who my father is. She said to tell you that I am Jabali, the son of Jabala,” replied the boy unflinchingly. “Your courage in stating the truth makes you a worthy pupil,” said the rishi and “the teacher taught him — nothing was omitted, yea, nothing was omitted” (Chandogya Upanishad IV-ix-3).