Clause and effect: The ‘however’ that sold the playgrounds One word to change the rules: One playground at a time

Urban Tantrum And The Trees That Paid
Urban Bystander

 

The Islamabad High Court has asked the question the city had been asking for a decade.

“Where is the Metropolitan Corporation Islamabad?”

Silence.

The second was directed at CDA. “Have you filed your reply?”

More silence.

It was the quiet Islamabad recognises instantly, the quiet of missing files, broken streetlights, abandoned playgrounds, and municipal duties passed from one authority to another like a hot potato left on the stove too long. The Court extended the stay on twenty playgrounds. Still public, for now.

Outside the courtroom, the petitioner’s counsel explained what should have been obvious. Under Article 140-A, municipal matters belong to local government. The 2015 Act gave MCI jurisdiction over playgrounds. The 1960 Ordinance said parks “shall be maintained by the Authority”, not auctioned, not leased, not licensed. The legal architecture was clear. CDA owned the land. MCI managed the facilities. Neither could unilaterally privatise what both were constitutionally obligated to protect. So how had CDA attempted this?

Yaqoob Raza, a Lower Division Clerk who understands everything and agrees with nothing, has the answer. While organising old regulations, he discovered Section 11(1) of the 2005 Land Disposal Regulations. It began sensibly: “Public Parks, playing fields, and graveyards shall be planned, developed, and maintained by the Authority.” Then came the ambush clause: “However, the Authority may licence/rent out some sites or portions of these areas to the private sector.”

He showed it to the Groundsman Who Never Ages, who has tended and mourned Islamabad’s grounds since 1973.

“This contradicts the 1960 Ordinance.”

“That’s the point,” smiled Yaqoob. “When you can’t change the law, you add a regulation that contradicts it.”

Yaqoob suspected the author by style, not name. Certain phrases appeared across decades: “However”, “Notwithstanding,” “Provided that.” Semicolons that opened trap doors. Subordinate clauses that swallowed obligations whole. The draftsmen called him the Proviso Wizard. He had been appearing at drafting sessions since 1960, always at 2 AM, same fountain pen. No one remembered hiring or losing him. But his work remained.

“Every ‘shall’ needs a ‘however’,” the Wizard reportedly told a draftsman in 1978. “That’s the craftsmanship, my son.” Whether CDA would cite Section 11(1) in court remains to be seen. But the pattern is visible. It began in 2014. CDA issued an Expression of Interest for 48 playgrounds. The document was blunt. CDA lacked the money and staff to maintain them.

“That’s not a tender”, thought Babloo the pigeon, veteran of the Planning Wing rafters. “That’s a confession dressed as opportunity”.

By winter, 35 grounds were contracted. No one protested. By then, they were already gone. Sports hadn’t died, they had gentrified into something requiring registration, timed slots, and parking validation.

CDA handed maintenance to MCI without budget. G-9 lost 45 floodlights. G-7’s infrastructure vanished. Fourteen parks were encroached. F-8 was occupied by 500 lawyers’ chambers until the courts intervened. CDA termed it “Participatory Infrastructure Optimisation”, the equipment had ‘redistributed itself according to market principles”.

In July 2025, the tender went out. Fifty playgrounds for auction. Build-Operate-Transfer. The legal basis remained unspecified. Somewhere in a basement filing room, the Proviso Wizard nodded. His handiwork was ageing nicely. Clauses, after all, live longer than parks!

In November 2025, the Rawalpindi-Islamabad Sports Journalists Association petitioned the court. The last group that remembered when you only needed a bat. The judge asked his questions. Silence answered. He extended the stay until November 28.

Even the silence seemed relieved. The playgrounds waited. G-9 dreamed of its stolen lights. G-7 couldn’t remember being whole. But a few old grounds still remembered when children arrived without registering, played without paying, and left without submitting feedback forms. Nosy Mynah settled onto her perch. Let’s see, she thought, if CDA cites Section 11(1). Or if the Proviso Wizard has prepared something new. Something with “Notwithstanding” this time.

Some cities lose their parks and playgrounds to floods or earthquakes. Islamabad might lose them to a subordinate clause no one can find the courage to read aloud in court.

—-The writer can be reached at [email protected]

 

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