The year was 1985, Pakistan’s darkest period under the General Zia dictatorship. The regime only reluctantly allowed the celebration of the dissident poet Faiz Ahmad Faiz’s birthday the year after he died, virtually banished from public life. An unspoken ban remained on his poetry on state TV and radio. The organisers had chosen the Lahore Arts Council’s Alhamra auditorium (a sarkari venue) on The Mall, neighbouring the Governor House, and Iqbal Bano was to sing Faiz.

Not only was Faiz banned by the quasi-Islamic regime, but also the wearing of saree at public venues. The mild-mannered Bano came draped in a silk saree, a perfect picture of her Dehli gharana style, but that day she roared like a lioness as Lahore swung along. The crowd was so huge the organisers had to throw the auditorium doors open, asking the youngsters to sit on the floor and vacate the seats for the elderly, who also came in droves. Then, loudspeakers had to be put up outside the hall, along The Mall, because the crowd outside just would not leave without hearing Bano sing Faiz.

A nearly hour-long recital of the otherwise short but poignant poem, Ham dekhain ge (‘we shall see the promised day of deliverance’) followed. The thumping and swinging by the huge crowd was so dramatic, a revolution seemed imminent. Zia’s riot police watched in a state of shock, and then disappeared from the scene. Any gathering of more than four persons in the street, and certainly all merrymaking, were outlawed. But here were thousands crying out loud and ecstatically dancing with joy. Bano rocked Lahore that day, resurrecting Faiz who suddenly seemed to have risen from the grave to lead his people to deliverance from tyranny.

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