Beneath the layers of bureaucracy and neglect
Liyana Low on 06 3rd, 2010
When a colleague suggested that we go to the National Museum of Pakistan for a writing assignment, I jumped for joy.
A self-confessed museum buff, I was excited about visiting the museum, to learn about the history and culture of the country that I have been calling home for the past five months.
But in more ways than one, I was let down; not only by the physical exhibits, but also by how the people were running the place.
My colleague and I were told that we could not take pictures in the museum. The guard told us that the measure was put in place for security purposes even though we explained we were on an assignment. (So does that mean that when I was at the Lahore museum taking pictures, was I, horror of horrors, endangering the security of the museum?)
Even after getting permission from the curator of the museum (four flights of stairs to his office, thank you very much, the lift was not working), the guard insisted that he see a written letter from the curator before he would allow us to take pictures.
But that was not the only point of contention I had with the museum, which did not have basic pamphlets or tour guides to help visitors navigate their way through the exhibitions.
I chanced upon this huge poster claiming that there was a gallery showcasing Islamic art; it looked new and interesting, an addition to the National museum family, a refreshing contrast against the bland oldness of the place.
Imagine my extreme disappointment and annoyance when a security guard told me: “I’m sorry you cannot go into the Islamic Art gallery.”
I paid Rs.200, a fee that is 20 times more than what a local pays, and now you tell me I cannot step foot into a gallery that has been inaugurated by some minister of some ministry a mere five days ago?
Then, the cherry on the cake came. The same bearded security guard came up to my colleague and said: “Beta, actually I just have no keys to the room.”
Nothing can explain my frustration and agitation at that point.
However, despite my annoyance with the state of affairs in the museum, I must admit that it does have a few good collections hidden beneath the layers of bureaucracy and neglect.
All it needs is sprucing up from a dedicated team of curators who know how to put the material that they currently have into an exhibition that is befitting of the title “National Museum of Pakistan”.
Having been to the Citizens Archive of Pakistan’s (CAP) “Birth of Pakistan”, I could not help but compare the National Museum’s dreary rundown exhibits that were (I imagined) almost breathing out dust in resignation to their fate with the exhibits that made history come to life in the former.
If CAP, a non-profit organisation, could organise a historical exhibition that was interesting and interactive, why not the government-funded National Museum of Pakistan?
Apparently, according to the curator, the museum is under the jurisdiction of the Federal Government. And if so, why has it allowed a National museum to be reduced to such dilapidation?
And where are the art, history, archaeology, anthropology professors and students from the many universities here in Karachi who have the knowledge and capabilities to make the necessary improvements needed for this place?
So, is this really the National Museum of Pakistan? And if so, since it bears the name “Pakistan” does that mean that its dusty unmaintained exhibits in a musty room represent the history and culture of Pakistan?
I sincerely hope not.
Liyana Low is a Mass Communication student from Singapore working in Pakistan for a short time period.
The Dawn Blog