Harking back: Imran driver, WW1 martyrs and amazing migrants.

History is all about the people, places, things and faces of a land. In books and columns you will read about the excellence of the famous, but never 'common people' as they are described. For a change let me dwell on the lives, past and present, of three common humans, 'uncommon' that their achievements are.

Greater opportunity, call it profit, attracts humans. There was an age when everyone wished to go to Muslim Spain, followed by Mughal India, and now it's the West. These days it is a dream to go to the USA, or Canada, or Europe and settle there. The determination of our people to make it big produces some amazing example of desperation and bravery. The current Migrant Crisis in the world is part of that human movement.

In that spirit let me first narrate, as an example, the compelling story of Imran, the driver. His ambition to be the best has taken him places. Almost 30 years ago as a little boy in a vest, a baggy 'shalwar' and rubber 'chappals' he turned up at our door. There he stood a tall, slim fair boy aged a mere 12 wanting a job. The wife asked if he had any experience. Bang came the confident reply: 'If you employ me I will be experienced'. Always ready for a challenge the begum employed him. 'Why employ an inexperienced unknown boy?' I queried. She responded: 'Because I like him'. End of query.

So this little handsome tall boy from Dumali, in Jhelum, was employed. After a day his first demand emerged. 'I need proper clothes', he says. So in the car we went to Saddar Bazaar and got him a 'shalwar kameez'. Gosh was he choosy. Once that was acquired he asked for shoes. 'Good quality ones only', he adds. His polite arrogance my wife liked. Then followed a demand for proper bedding. In a way for a boy who had absolutely nothing, it was understandable. The neighbouring ladies suggested that he be sacked. The wife said: 'No, he is someone's son'.

So started the career of Imran. He was taught to cook, but only on the promise that we do not tell anyone that he cooks. 'In Dumali people will laugh', he pleaded. By now he was growing taller and on Eid he was the smartest person in the mosque. One day a neighbour turned up and asked about the brigadier's son. 'He is my friend in the mosque', he later explained. Oh, Imran and his prestige was at work.

Then followed the expected turn when he wanted to learn how to drive. Initial resistance was expected but then soon he became our driver and was known in the family as Imran, the driver. Then...