Some people say life can be a fairytale. It can be an enigma, a mystery and a cruel experience for us- Heck! I say, it is anything but a fairytale. People come; they stay for a while and then they leave. They just have to- for one doesn’t value the people who stay with you. I stand here in the shadows of darkness, amidst the sound of silence and among the humanity of animals. I stand here staring at the sun which emanates too much darkness for my liking. I stand here on a platform waiting for my train to arrive. I have been standing here for so long that I, myself, have forgotten how many trains have come. They have come and they have gone, taking the people away with them. Yet I stand here.
Sometimes you have to let go- let go of the people who care for you, who love you and who would do anything for you. I know that my time is near too. My train will arrive too. I will have to depart. I will have to part away with the people I love. I don’t want to but I will have to. How depressing does it sound! It is depressing indeed. Soon I will be passing the blurry city lights- distorted by the high speed of the train. May be life in cities is blurred anyway. My life is hazy, yours is too. Who would make us realize that? I ask myself and look for the answers in sound of silence.
Why do we need a loser to make the winner’s day? Why does the past leave its stains on sheets of our memory? Why do we paint walls of our conscience when we know that we are hiding our own selves? Why do we find ourselves while looking at the mirrors of obscurity? Why do doubts scream at our faces when we finally decide to be ourselves? I don’t quite know how to feel what feeling really is. I don’t quite care about caring. I don’t love anything about love. I do hate to hate. But when it comes to loving love itself I am confused, baffled and bemused. I hate to leave, I really do. But we don’t have a choice, do we? Everyone has a train to catch- everyone has a confirmed ticket for the land of the missing. So, don’t miss me when I am already missing.
Here comes my train. Have to leave now.
Wednesday, December 27, 2006
Thursday, December 21, 2006
Why Pakistan Can't Pull Off a Chavez or an Ahmedinijad?
During past five years of Musharraf’s reign, a vast range of questions have emerged regarding the national integrity and sovereignty of Pakistan vis-à-vis the War on Terror. It has been argued by the liberals that the general did what was in the best interest of the nation. Conservatives on the other hand disagree vehemently, arguing that the man has been nothing short of an American puppet. What does an ordinary Pakistani think? Will people come out on streets against his policies? Will ordinary people gather on streets if he ever gets overthrown by someone else? Time will surely tell us the answers when these things eventually happen but till then one can only speculate as to how this country of ours will tackle the challenges that the future poses for it.
Some cynics argue that Pakistan’s political history is marred with numerous instances of manipulation and deception by the military and its allies in political sphere. The fact that we, as a nation, have failed so far to develop a national identity only strengthens their claim. Islamabad has taken so many u-turns in its domestic and foreign policies over the years that it is almost impossible to predict its course over the next few months let alone next few years. The cynics have also often questioned the fact that Pakistani government has never taken a firm stand on any of the sensitive issues; be it the issue of Taliban or the problem of Khalistan movement. They ask why Musharraf or any other Pakistani leader for that matter can’t pull off an Ahmedinijad or Hugo Chavez. Why is it that our foreign policies have more often than not been dictated by Washington?
One does not need to go further back in history to unveil the harsh truths behind this phenomenon. Musharraf, a military man by profession, did not come into the presidential office through a landslide elections victory nor did he have international support and mandate to carry on. What he did have was the precedence of three military coups, a rapidly deteriorating domestic politico-economic sphere and highly volatile relations with India. These factors combined with the lack of leadership qualities in political structure of the society meant that nobody came on the streets to demonstrate against this takeover. Standing alone in the international community after the Kargil fiasco, Islamabad needed another Soviet monster to emerge in Afghanistan to help it gain international support and recognition. The monster did rise but not from Moscow this time around but from Afghans themselves in the shape of the 9/11 tragedy. Lo and behold! What fortunate turn of events for Musharraf and his aides! Pakistan was once again the centre stage of an ideological battle between ‘extremist’ Islam and the ‘free world’. What else could Islamabad have wished for! A military dictator’s regime was legitimized overnight throughout the world; a dictator who comes down hard on the people who don’t respect country’s legal and constitutional structures; Bajaur incidence being a case in point. It is imperative to mention that I am all for punishing those who don’t have a regard for country’s constitution. But I only ask what constitution are we talking about here? Is it the one that Musharraf overhauled completely to legitimize his government? So going by the same logic, if the people in the Northern Areas and Balochistan are being penalized for disregarding the constitutional and legal framework, what prevents Musharraf from receiving such punishment? Double standards I guess!
The question that arises then is that despite all these things why the people of Pakistan have not taken to streets to express their displeasure. What prevents our government from taking a respectable and sovereign stance vis-à-vis Washington’s ever-increasing demands? The answer to the first question is difficult to ascertain given the complex nature of the Pakistani polity. However the answer to the second question is somehow related to the first one. It is significant to note that people’s reluctance to protest on the streets has never legitimized any government neither has it often managed to overthrow a military regime. Musharraf and his political allies know that majority of population does not support Islamabad’s increasing subservience to Washington. They know that they can’t bring out millions of people from their homes like Ahmedinijad or Hugo Chavez can to support their policies. Consequently they look outwards for support. Tragically this phenomenon is not taking place for the first time. Throughout our history our leaders have looked to legitimize their governments through foreign help instead of focusing on gaining domestic support through resolution of domestic problems such as poverty. Sadly our leaders have more often than not opted for an easy way out to prolong their respective reigns rather than focusing on the long term development and growth of the country. Musharraf is no different from our earlier leaders and that is why we have no Ahmedinijad or Hugo Chavez who have opted for domestic legitimization of power through equitable growth and development of their people.
Some cynics argue that Pakistan’s political history is marred with numerous instances of manipulation and deception by the military and its allies in political sphere. The fact that we, as a nation, have failed so far to develop a national identity only strengthens their claim. Islamabad has taken so many u-turns in its domestic and foreign policies over the years that it is almost impossible to predict its course over the next few months let alone next few years. The cynics have also often questioned the fact that Pakistani government has never taken a firm stand on any of the sensitive issues; be it the issue of Taliban or the problem of Khalistan movement. They ask why Musharraf or any other Pakistani leader for that matter can’t pull off an Ahmedinijad or Hugo Chavez. Why is it that our foreign policies have more often than not been dictated by Washington?
One does not need to go further back in history to unveil the harsh truths behind this phenomenon. Musharraf, a military man by profession, did not come into the presidential office through a landslide elections victory nor did he have international support and mandate to carry on. What he did have was the precedence of three military coups, a rapidly deteriorating domestic politico-economic sphere and highly volatile relations with India. These factors combined with the lack of leadership qualities in political structure of the society meant that nobody came on the streets to demonstrate against this takeover. Standing alone in the international community after the Kargil fiasco, Islamabad needed another Soviet monster to emerge in Afghanistan to help it gain international support and recognition. The monster did rise but not from Moscow this time around but from Afghans themselves in the shape of the 9/11 tragedy. Lo and behold! What fortunate turn of events for Musharraf and his aides! Pakistan was once again the centre stage of an ideological battle between ‘extremist’ Islam and the ‘free world’. What else could Islamabad have wished for! A military dictator’s regime was legitimized overnight throughout the world; a dictator who comes down hard on the people who don’t respect country’s legal and constitutional structures; Bajaur incidence being a case in point. It is imperative to mention that I am all for punishing those who don’t have a regard for country’s constitution. But I only ask what constitution are we talking about here? Is it the one that Musharraf overhauled completely to legitimize his government? So going by the same logic, if the people in the Northern Areas and Balochistan are being penalized for disregarding the constitutional and legal framework, what prevents Musharraf from receiving such punishment? Double standards I guess!
The question that arises then is that despite all these things why the people of Pakistan have not taken to streets to express their displeasure. What prevents our government from taking a respectable and sovereign stance vis-à-vis Washington’s ever-increasing demands? The answer to the first question is difficult to ascertain given the complex nature of the Pakistani polity. However the answer to the second question is somehow related to the first one. It is significant to note that people’s reluctance to protest on the streets has never legitimized any government neither has it often managed to overthrow a military regime. Musharraf and his political allies know that majority of population does not support Islamabad’s increasing subservience to Washington. They know that they can’t bring out millions of people from their homes like Ahmedinijad or Hugo Chavez can to support their policies. Consequently they look outwards for support. Tragically this phenomenon is not taking place for the first time. Throughout our history our leaders have looked to legitimize their governments through foreign help instead of focusing on gaining domestic support through resolution of domestic problems such as poverty. Sadly our leaders have more often than not opted for an easy way out to prolong their respective reigns rather than focusing on the long term development and growth of the country. Musharraf is no different from our earlier leaders and that is why we have no Ahmedinijad or Hugo Chavez who have opted for domestic legitimization of power through equitable growth and development of their people.
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
Three shadows in autumn
Autumn- a tree- fallen leaves- three shadows…
The boy stood there amidst it all. Like the light emanating from the beacons of heaven through the bright blue sky- like the fragrance exhaling out of the blue tulips nearby- like the energy being extracted from a human soul- behind the veils of darkness she stood. She was the turn of events- she was the uncertainty in the certain lives- she was the vehemence of an argument that he often indulged in- she was everything to him- yet she was nothing- A mirage- a hallucination- a fragment of human imagination.
Traffic lights had turned red- red like the fire in hell would seem like- red like roses in full blossom- red. He could walk now but for all his effort he couldn’t move. Feet stuck in the ground- eyes glued to her face- legs shivering with the fear of the uncertain- he stood there. People were walking past him, faces were turning around to give him are-you-crazy look and clouds were moving at the slowest pace possible. An awkward unrest had surrounded him- a gloomy afternoon had turned into something he had experienced somewhere before- déjà vu indeed.
A loud bang- an elongated scream- sound of children crying- blood flowing on the road- red blood- red- something familiar indeed- People were rushing past him- shrieking voices were deafening him. With his feet frozen he couldn’t even help the people lifting the car to rescue someone. He did not want to see the face- he did not. He could’ve stopped her- he could’ve warned her- he could’ve deterred her- but he did not. Tears were flowing out of his eyes as if the accident had broken the damn containing them. Fate…
Sound of sirens- blue and red lights- blue and red indeed- irony at its most cruel self- Sixth sense huh…
“Sir, Are you okay?”
“Did you know her, Sir?”
“Sir, are you alright?”
“Sir, is the deceased someone you knew?”
My life…
He turned around to see if she was still there but found nothing.
A mirage and a premonition- both vaporized.
Autumn- a tree- fallen leaves- a single shadow…
The boy stood there amidst it all. Like the light emanating from the beacons of heaven through the bright blue sky- like the fragrance exhaling out of the blue tulips nearby- like the energy being extracted from a human soul- behind the veils of darkness she stood. She was the turn of events- she was the uncertainty in the certain lives- she was the vehemence of an argument that he often indulged in- she was everything to him- yet she was nothing- A mirage- a hallucination- a fragment of human imagination.
Traffic lights had turned red- red like the fire in hell would seem like- red like roses in full blossom- red. He could walk now but for all his effort he couldn’t move. Feet stuck in the ground- eyes glued to her face- legs shivering with the fear of the uncertain- he stood there. People were walking past him, faces were turning around to give him are-you-crazy look and clouds were moving at the slowest pace possible. An awkward unrest had surrounded him- a gloomy afternoon had turned into something he had experienced somewhere before- déjà vu indeed.
A loud bang- an elongated scream- sound of children crying- blood flowing on the road- red blood- red- something familiar indeed- People were rushing past him- shrieking voices were deafening him. With his feet frozen he couldn’t even help the people lifting the car to rescue someone. He did not want to see the face- he did not. He could’ve stopped her- he could’ve warned her- he could’ve deterred her- but he did not. Tears were flowing out of his eyes as if the accident had broken the damn containing them. Fate…
Sound of sirens- blue and red lights- blue and red indeed- irony at its most cruel self- Sixth sense huh…
“Sir, Are you okay?”
“Did you know her, Sir?”
“Sir, are you alright?”
“Sir, is the deceased someone you knew?”
My life…
He turned around to see if she was still there but found nothing.
A mirage and a premonition- both vaporized.
Autumn- a tree- fallen leaves- a single shadow…
Thursday, November 09, 2006
A Dream or something like it...
Dreams…
What are dreams?
Are they seemingly conspicuous looking whirlpools filled with eventuality, contingency and uncertainty?
He never understood what dreams really were for he had never experienced the tickling sensation of falling from the edge of a mountain or the joyous pleasures of fulfilling his most yearned yet impossible wishes. His sleep was as deep and silent as an ocean bed could be during a moonless night: mysterious and murky. However there were times when he thought that he could tell he was in a dream but when he woke up, he had nothing etched in his memory. Was there an automatic data erasing software working inside his brain or was his subconscious so fragile that it could not handle the strain of remembering everything that went through in his dreams? Or were the experiences so callous that billions of neurons running through his mind could not take their toll?
“Hey! How are you? You look pale. What happened to you?” A distant voice echoed around him.
Life is like a dream. Or may be dreams are just like life.
“Hello!!! You don’t seem to be paying attention to me. What’s going on? What are you thinking brother?” His sister had just cut his never-ending obsession with dreams short.
“Do you have dreams? If you do, do you remember them?” He asked her abruptly. The fact that he was meeting her after seven years gap never even struck his imagination. He was too engrossed in what he was thinking at that moment.
“What?” She did not expect this cold behavior from her own brother- the brother she had taken so much pains to raise after their parents’ death- the brother who had become obsessed with her so much so that he couldn’t bear her marriage- the brother who had parted ways from her seven years earlier after her marriage vowing to never see her again.
“I said do you have dreams? If you do, do you remember them?” His eyes were lost in the shallow dark circles around them, making it impossible for her to make any eye contact with him.
“I meet you after seven years and that’s all you ask me. Dreams- Since when have you started thinking about dreams? As far as I can remember you never had any dreams. What has changed now?” She seemed incensed and enraged.
Neither could he blame her for being incensed nor could he stop himself from asking her the same question again.
“I asked you a simple question. Do you have any dreams?” He persisted.
“Why is it that” He could see her taking steps backwards. “you always think about yourself first?” She was getting away from him. He wanted to stop her- wanted to scream- wanted to let her know that she was too close to the edge of the mountain. “Why? You want me to answer the question right? Then so be it. Yes, I do have dreams- and yes, I do…”
A scream followed.
He was lying in his bed, soaked in sweat, trying to remember what had happened. He just couldn’t.
May be dream is life itself- you can never remember what happened once it’s over.
Author’s Note:
His sister had passed six years ago in a plane crash; one year after he had left her house.
What are dreams?
Are they seemingly conspicuous looking whirlpools filled with eventuality, contingency and uncertainty?
He never understood what dreams really were for he had never experienced the tickling sensation of falling from the edge of a mountain or the joyous pleasures of fulfilling his most yearned yet impossible wishes. His sleep was as deep and silent as an ocean bed could be during a moonless night: mysterious and murky. However there were times when he thought that he could tell he was in a dream but when he woke up, he had nothing etched in his memory. Was there an automatic data erasing software working inside his brain or was his subconscious so fragile that it could not handle the strain of remembering everything that went through in his dreams? Or were the experiences so callous that billions of neurons running through his mind could not take their toll?
“Hey! How are you? You look pale. What happened to you?” A distant voice echoed around him.
Life is like a dream. Or may be dreams are just like life.
“Hello!!! You don’t seem to be paying attention to me. What’s going on? What are you thinking brother?” His sister had just cut his never-ending obsession with dreams short.
“Do you have dreams? If you do, do you remember them?” He asked her abruptly. The fact that he was meeting her after seven years gap never even struck his imagination. He was too engrossed in what he was thinking at that moment.
“What?” She did not expect this cold behavior from her own brother- the brother she had taken so much pains to raise after their parents’ death- the brother who had become obsessed with her so much so that he couldn’t bear her marriage- the brother who had parted ways from her seven years earlier after her marriage vowing to never see her again.
“I said do you have dreams? If you do, do you remember them?” His eyes were lost in the shallow dark circles around them, making it impossible for her to make any eye contact with him.
“I meet you after seven years and that’s all you ask me. Dreams- Since when have you started thinking about dreams? As far as I can remember you never had any dreams. What has changed now?” She seemed incensed and enraged.
Neither could he blame her for being incensed nor could he stop himself from asking her the same question again.
“I asked you a simple question. Do you have any dreams?” He persisted.
“Why is it that” He could see her taking steps backwards. “you always think about yourself first?” She was getting away from him. He wanted to stop her- wanted to scream- wanted to let her know that she was too close to the edge of the mountain. “Why? You want me to answer the question right? Then so be it. Yes, I do have dreams- and yes, I do…”
A scream followed.
He was lying in his bed, soaked in sweat, trying to remember what had happened. He just couldn’t.
May be dream is life itself- you can never remember what happened once it’s over.
Author’s Note:
His sister had passed six years ago in a plane crash; one year after he had left her house.
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
My Best Friend's Wife
One window, three bottles of coca-cola, one mirror, two lamps, one fan, one door, two beds, a pack of smokes, one pillow, three dustbins, one chessboard, one boy and she…
He smiled-
She returned the favor-
He coughed-
She shivered-
He saw-
She closed her eyes-
And the music continued…
A cheap song-
A catchy tune-
Look of antipathy in her eyes-
That of empathy in his-
Awful- she thought.
Awe: he had fought.
Two shoes- he saw.
His place- she contemplated.
Cell phone beeps-
Nuisance creeps-
My company- he considered- in need.
Torture- she uttered- indeed.
Her hair- he noted.
His hair- she sighed.
Song changes-
She avenges-
A romantic one-
Sense? in him? None-
He: Don’t sneer me…
Don’t come near me.
You are pushing me-
I reject your plea-
What the heck!
A dick on a deck!
Shut the fuck up!
Silence- then a hiccup-
Who do you think you are?
This night? Your lucky star!
Lucky my foot-
Mind- where did you put?
I’ve had enough-
Don’t bluff-
What have I done to you?
Nothing- just that its YOU-
I am out of here-
Awww- don’t you care?
I do- I do Kate-
Then leave- why wait?
And he drove all night- came back in the morning- only to find his wife sleeping with his best friend.
He smiled-
She returned the favor-
He coughed-
She shivered-
He saw-
She closed her eyes-
And the music continued…
A cheap song-
A catchy tune-
Look of antipathy in her eyes-
That of empathy in his-
Awful- she thought.
Awe: he had fought.
Two shoes- he saw.
His place- she contemplated.
Cell phone beeps-
Nuisance creeps-
My company- he considered- in need.
Torture- she uttered- indeed.
Her hair- he noted.
His hair- she sighed.
Song changes-
She avenges-
A romantic one-
Sense? in him? None-
He: Don’t sneer me…
Don’t come near me.
You are pushing me-
I reject your plea-
What the heck!
A dick on a deck!
Shut the fuck up!
Silence- then a hiccup-
Who do you think you are?
This night? Your lucky star!
Lucky my foot-
Mind- where did you put?
I’ve had enough-
Don’t bluff-
What have I done to you?
Nothing- just that its YOU-
I am out of here-
Awww- don’t you care?
I do- I do Kate-
Then leave- why wait?
And he drove all night- came back in the morning- only to find his wife sleeping with his best friend.
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
The Scream
The same old habit continued- he sat there motionless staring at the painting titled “The Scream” which lay in his hands- the look of horror on the person’s face in the painting resembled of his own when he had seen his soul being taken away- yeah! His soul- The look of disgust coupled with dark circles around his eyes made him look more contemptuous and scornful than anyone she had ever seen. She looked around his empty apartment realizing that perhaps the old painting was his only belonging left in this shabby place. The wallpapers were torn apart at many places highlighting the dusty old unpainted walls that lay beneath them- how ironical- she muttered under her breath as if perhaps she had found some link of his present condition and the walls themselves. He sat on the floor facing the only window that opened in this room which looked more like a sitting room. An eerie silence ensued after what seemed like the worst storms to have hit this area had been blown away. She looked at her watch trying to fathom how many precious little moments she had spent there looking at this man.
“No, it can’t be.” She looked horrorstruck as she tried to bang her hand against the face of the watch. Time had stopped.
“Wondering what might have happened to your watch eh?” For the first time in what seemed like an eternity he had spoken. She could feel his gaze entering through her eyes into her mind. She diverted her own eyes towards the window and said:
“No, I guess the battery must have died or something. But it can’t happen, I just got it changed yesterda…”
“The fault lies not with the watch but with me” He had cut her explanatory sentence short. “I have lived like this for eternity now- yet people come and they go- leaving their preconceived notions behind this door about time, space and human capabilities.” She could sense condescending tone in his voice.
“Regretting that you ever came here, are you?” He had sensed the scared look in her eyes.
“No! I was just wondering. Yeah well! Now that you say I…” Words were lost as she looked horrifically at the painting in which in place of one man there were seven heads, all of them saying in unison:
“Welcome then gal”
She must be dreaming she told herself. The look in her eyes- trembling hands- shivering body- sweat pouring out of her forehead- no it can not be real- it can not be-
The room started spinning around her- memories flashing through her brain- memories of her childhood, her walks with her husband- she closed her eyes- hoping to open them again and find that everything was a dream. Suddenly everything was so calm- she felt warm rays of sun touching her skin and a strong breeze blowing her hair away. She opened her eyes only to find herself on a deserted beach with only sand and sea around her. She bit herself on the hand to make sure she was awake for sure- it hurt- she was awake after all. Suddenly seven bodies started coming out of the sand.
“NOOOO! You did not mean literally when you said welcome… No you were not- no you were not- its not possible- it can’t be real- its all just a dream- I am going to wake up- its just a dream…” She hardly noticed that she was screaming hysterically at the pitch of her voice.
“Please calm down Maria” An old man amongst those seven people said as he approached her.
“How do you know my name? You filthy little piece of shit. It’s not true- it’s all just a hoax. Someone must have something against me- no it can’t be- it just can’t be” She had lost control again.
“I am your father Maria. How come you don’t recognize me?” He spoke in a soft tone as tears fell out of his eyes.
“Yeah then she would be my mother and rest of the people would be my family eh? You just don’t realize it, do you? I am not crazy psycho like you guys. I don’t want to be here- you guys have some hidden agenda- you want something from me- you want to ruin my career as a psychiatrist don’t you? You are all a bunch of lunatics.” She was now totally out of breath.
“We are not the lunatics here Maria. I am afraid you are.” A young man early in his twenties said.
She could not believe her eyes. She had so far ignored this guy and hadn’t given him a single look. He was there- her husband- the last person she saw in her memory flashback. Everything else had seemed so blur-
“It can’t be- it just can’t be- I don’t believe this- somebody is playing a prank on me- it can’t happen to me- it just won’t- it’s all just a bad dream- that it- nothing else- God can’t do this to me. Can you God?” She looked heavenwards and collapsed on her feet. In the distance she could hear voices-
“It’s really good news that she has at least started to recognize her husband.”
“I think the treatment is going quite well.”
“You just have to keep bringing those pictures along with you.”
“She seems so pale doctor”
“Yeah, but she’ll be alright I am sure…”
That was the last thing she heard before falling to sleep again.
Author’s note:
“No, it can’t be.” She looked horrorstruck as she tried to bang her hand against the face of the watch. Time had stopped.
“Wondering what might have happened to your watch eh?” For the first time in what seemed like an eternity he had spoken. She could feel his gaze entering through her eyes into her mind. She diverted her own eyes towards the window and said:
“No, I guess the battery must have died or something. But it can’t happen, I just got it changed yesterda…”
“The fault lies not with the watch but with me” He had cut her explanatory sentence short. “I have lived like this for eternity now- yet people come and they go- leaving their preconceived notions behind this door about time, space and human capabilities.” She could sense condescending tone in his voice.
“Regretting that you ever came here, are you?” He had sensed the scared look in her eyes.
“No! I was just wondering. Yeah well! Now that you say I…” Words were lost as she looked horrifically at the painting in which in place of one man there were seven heads, all of them saying in unison:
“Welcome then gal”
She must be dreaming she told herself. The look in her eyes- trembling hands- shivering body- sweat pouring out of her forehead- no it can not be real- it can not be-
The room started spinning around her- memories flashing through her brain- memories of her childhood, her walks with her husband- she closed her eyes- hoping to open them again and find that everything was a dream. Suddenly everything was so calm- she felt warm rays of sun touching her skin and a strong breeze blowing her hair away. She opened her eyes only to find herself on a deserted beach with only sand and sea around her. She bit herself on the hand to make sure she was awake for sure- it hurt- she was awake after all. Suddenly seven bodies started coming out of the sand.
“NOOOO! You did not mean literally when you said welcome… No you were not- no you were not- its not possible- it can’t be real- its all just a dream- I am going to wake up- its just a dream…” She hardly noticed that she was screaming hysterically at the pitch of her voice.
“Please calm down Maria” An old man amongst those seven people said as he approached her.
“How do you know my name? You filthy little piece of shit. It’s not true- it’s all just a hoax. Someone must have something against me- no it can’t be- it just can’t be” She had lost control again.
“I am your father Maria. How come you don’t recognize me?” He spoke in a soft tone as tears fell out of his eyes.
“Yeah then she would be my mother and rest of the people would be my family eh? You just don’t realize it, do you? I am not crazy psycho like you guys. I don’t want to be here- you guys have some hidden agenda- you want something from me- you want to ruin my career as a psychiatrist don’t you? You are all a bunch of lunatics.” She was now totally out of breath.
“We are not the lunatics here Maria. I am afraid you are.” A young man early in his twenties said.
She could not believe her eyes. She had so far ignored this guy and hadn’t given him a single look. He was there- her husband- the last person she saw in her memory flashback. Everything else had seemed so blur-
“It can’t be- it just can’t be- I don’t believe this- somebody is playing a prank on me- it can’t happen to me- it just won’t- it’s all just a bad dream- that it- nothing else- God can’t do this to me. Can you God?” She looked heavenwards and collapsed on her feet. In the distance she could hear voices-
“It’s really good news that she has at least started to recognize her husband.”
“I think the treatment is going quite well.”
“You just have to keep bringing those pictures along with you.”
“She seems so pale doctor”
“Yeah, but she’ll be alright I am sure…”
That was the last thing she heard before falling to sleep again.
Author’s note:
Maria Ali has been under psychiatric treatment for sixth year running, after she, while on a walk with her husband, collided with an oncoming car leaving her paralyzed for two years. She recovered from paralysis but sustained damage to her brain. The clash also killed her husband. Doctors say that she imagines him sitting in their apartment with a painting in his hand. Witnesses say that the last thing she saw before the crash was him screaming at her to get away from the car…
Saturday, August 19, 2006
Pakistan: A Confused Nation?
On the eve of Pakistan’s 59th Independence Day, President Musharraf addressed a gathering of artists in which he spoke about the glorious history of this region that we have come to know as Pakistan. He talked about the Buddhist, Sikh, Muslim and Hindu civilizations who, over the years, have blessed this land with their respective cultures, norms and heritages. Yet when one talks to a layman on the road about Pakistan’s history, he will only tell you about Mahmood of Ghazni, Ghauri or Muhammad bin Qasim of the medieval times or about Jinnah, Liaqat Ali Khan, Rehmat Ali, Sir Syed Ahmad or Iqbal of recent history. Where does all the history beyond them lie is the million dollar question for everybody willing to ponder upon this nation?
The answer lies in the slow but steady deception and brainwashing that this nation as a whole has gone through since its independence. Ayesha, a colleague of mine, was very right when she asked that why is it that we worship Jinnah like a prophet? Why is it that we are not willing to bear any criticism on his personality whether true or otherwise? There are hundreds of other questions that occupy one’s mind when one tends to take a pervasive look on this country’s history. From the supposedly mysterious death of Jinnah to Ayub Khan’s coup; from our army’s massacre in East Pakistan to the separation of Bangladesh; from Bhutto’s nationalization to his death; from Zia’s inexplicable laws to Pakistan’s active involvement in Afghanistan; from Pakistan’s supposed contribution in Khalistan movement to Kashmir’s militancy issues, these highly sensitive matters have been kept out of ordinary man’s reach. These questions are never raised for the risk of upsetting the “patriotism” of this nation.
While at the risk of attracting enormous criticism from my country fellows on these highly controversial issues, I humbly try to analyze what we, Pakistanis, have achieved in last 59 years of our independence in socio-political sphere. Let us start at the beginning with the creation of Pakistan. In my humble viewpoint, this country’s creation had two different motives for two different segments of Muslim society in British India: at one end of spectrum lay the ordinary Muslims who really wanted a country where they could live with religious, economic and social freedom without having to worry about being marginalized and subjugated by the majority; while at the other end of spectrum lay the ambitious politicians including Jinnah who wanted to rule a country themselves, which seemed quite impossible in a United India with Hindu majority in place. So while exploiting the much larger chunk of the former group, latter group managed to carve out Pakistan to both parties’ relative advantage so one could safely assume that Pakistan was not a mistake for either of them.
However the problem began soon afterwards as the ruling elite got divided on the issue of making Pakistan either a theocratic state or a secular one. With Jinnah, one shrewd politician indeed, dead within one year of country’s creation, there was a leadership vacuum which unfortunately has never been filled with true representatives of the people. Then came the famous trade deadlock with India, which I may add was due to our own poor policies, which provided an ample opportunity to the people at the helm of affairs to further exploit the people of Pakistan. So began the hate-India-if-you-love-Pakistan slogan. The criterion was set in the early stages to loathe everything having any association with India, whether it was the Hindu religion, or the Buddhist culture or Sikh identity. No doubt the situation was aggravated by harsh memories of migration that haunted many a minds on both sides of the border. From then onwards, India became engraved in this nation’s subconscious for times to come; and this was made worse by curriculum taught in schools throughout the country. Through the years, this xenophobia spread to other countries as well with Pan-Islamism reaching greater heights due to the continuous focus on glorifying Muslim history. It is significant to mention here that I have nothing against glorifying Muslims history, but it is equally imperative to take into account the glorious past of other religions as well who have dwelled in this land far before the Muslims even came here. All of which seems to suggest that politicians have successfully employed Islam as a mean to exploit their own people according to their wishes since Muslims, especially uneducated Muslims which constitute major chunk of Pakistan population, have blind faith in Islam and don’t seem to question anything related to it.
Our history is marred by foreign policy U-turns, domestic political upheavals and continued subjugation of the population. Pakistan has continued to indulge in border skirmishes with India since its inception; it has supposedly funded and backed Kashmir, Khalistan and Assam movements in its neighbor’s territory as well while morally claiming them to be indigenous freedom struggles. It has also indulged heavily in Afghanistan throughout its history giving Afghans ample reason to hate Pakistanis more than anyone these days. “America is nothing compared to Pakistan when it comes to destroying our sovereignty, our politics and our military.” An Afghan friend of mine told me while discussing Pak-Afghan relations last month and unfortunately it’s a view shared by majority of Afghans except Taliban off course. At one point in history, we have called Taliban our strategic partners, funded them, provided them with arms and military expertise and made heroes out of them. Now our leaders want the nation to believe that Taliban were part of an evil regime. We support freedom struggles in India while we continue to supply arms to Sri Lankan government with arms for fighting against Tamil Tigers who ironically are fighting for the same cause as the Kashmiris or Palestinians if we are to agree with the theory of freedom movements. Our government says its banned terrorist camps in the country; while during my field course this summer came across a very active and working such camp. For past twenty six years this nation has lived under the so-called Shariah Laws, yet now the national assembly is discussing to repeal these laws. We lived through the Pan-Islamism of Bhutto to radicalization of Zia, through a moderate democratic decade to a liberal military rule again; and with each changing government come a different direction for the nation to follow. We, as a nation, have never taken enough time to stop and think where we are going with all this. Our identity slogans have always seemed to suggest that it was more of a Muslimistan rather than a Pakistan- our governments have continuously exploited the numbness of the nation to its fullest changing their stance a zillion times during these 59 years. Our obsession with comparing our country to India continues to augment despite the fact that India is politically, economically and militarily a much larger entity. Our nation’s children continue to read the stories of Muslim conquerors of subcontinent while totally unaware of the fact that other great personalities and nations have passed before Muslims as well. We, as a nation, are split up when it comes to decision making regarding Balochistan, Waziristan or even Kalabagh dam. Why? Because we have failed to bring out the true PAKISTANI from inside us and today find ourselves in an identity crisis. Are we Pakistanis first or Muslims? Should we worry about our national sovereignty and rule of law or do we give in to pro-Taliban elements in Waziristan? (Whom I don’t personally blame because they are the first ones who have refused to be molded by our leaders continuously) It is about time that our leaders stop playing this GREAT GAME, and try to create a common identity for rest of the nation to follow. The hope remains…
“Agar Allah ne Chaha,
Zamana who bhi aayega,
Jahan tak waqt Jayega,
Ise aage hi payega,
Yeh khitta inquilabi hai,
Nayee duniya banayega,
Tabhi Tareekh ne rakha hai,
Iska naam Pakistan…”
Author’s Note: I would like to thank Ayesha for providing me inspiration to write this article:)
Monday, June 26, 2006
Miniature...
He looked anxiously up into the sky and the wind- the clouds- the ideas- the inspirations- all were floating in the air like an eagle flying up high. For all his strength and determination, he could not reach the heights of greatness achieved by all those things- he looked again- looked at his feet- how small compared to the gigantic environment that surrounded him- he felt small- he felt that he could not, for all his courage, achieve the goals set forth by him in the first place. He looked pale- bruised- tired to say the least. Yet he wanted to move ahead with the verve of a fighter- looking to overcome the toughest rival with the glory of a successful hunter.
Glory was his prey- chivalry his weapon and ego his weakness. Wandering haplessly in the streets- he remembered the U2 song “Where the streets have no name”- ironic it may have been for him- since he was there looking and searching for glory- he was lost- aspiration- hopes shattering down in the abyss of desperation- yet he thought he could do it. Life must have been cruel only to him- there he was- standing in front of the mirror-
Glory was right there- he just couldn’t find it for all his determination- a pervasive feeling of disappointment seemed to have overcome his initial desire for glory. Mirror said it all- yet he could not find the answers- the destiny had chosen him to ignore his conscience and let it die. Die- it did…
Duality...
Heaven would have been proud of what he had achieved- the verve- the passion- the commitment- he had showed was certainly the sign of things to come. To assume that this world would ever produce a creature like him would have been the grotesque mistake on anyone’s part. But he was not elated- nor was he excited- he was just going through the motions- the life of uncertainty- a life of shadows and memoirs- a collection of wishes and desires- for he had been an eloquent preacher of procrastination. Was he a mechanical machine? He wondered at times yet could not find the answers to his queries.
Then came the biggest realization of his life- realization of the hypocrisies- realization of the dual faces- realization of dual standards- an unintended conspiracy that he was a blatant part of. Like an earthquake that jolts the very foundations of even high rise buildings, it hit him hard- so hard that it shoved his very basic beliefs, norms and values of life. The expression on his face could have been exchanged for a terrified child standing on a rail line facing an oncoming train- yet somewhere deep inside him, he knew he had achieved what they could not. It all started with a whisper- a shallow whisper that surrounded him-
“They think I have lost it. What do they think of themselves huh? I can do what anyone cannot. I will show them that they are wrong. I will come back again” He was talking to himself after being overlooked for a presidential award for excellence in science due to him being a schizophrenic. That’s when the whisper started…
“They don’t exist…”
“Really?” He asked.
“Yes. They don’t really exist. It is you who has derived the concept of they and them inspired by the people around you.” The whisper would not go away.
“Go away… They have not given me a Nobel Prize for nothing. They think that my work is my own imagination, not something inspired by someone else. It’s just that they think that I see people who are not real but I will prove them wrong.” He retorted.
“See. That’s what I am talking about. They did this- they did that. Have you ever wondered what are you without them? What are you without taking yourself in the context of this world? What have you achieved for yourself rather than doing something to improve the way you are looked and perceived by others? Life is not only about they or them my friend! There is more to life than that. You say that they think you see people who are not real; have you ever wondered how unreal you are yourself.” It had started to get on his nerves now.
“It may be true that I have overlooked myself as an individual in an effort to fulfill others’ expectation of me.” He tried to control his emotions. “Yet there is a catch there sucker! which people like you don’t get. If I ignore they or them in pursuit of quest for my own inner satisfaction, it would be impossible to survive in this world. What I am facing here is a dilemma. Do you get that now?”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. You are the one who is right- you think that you have every right to judge what to do for yourself. Unfortunately you are wrong. God did not make you the way you are upon your own discretion dude. Life moves on- days go by- months never stop passing- yet you are wasting yourself… look around you- how many people have benefited from your prestigious little Nobel Prize- How many? You don’t have the answer. Do you? I’ll tell you how many. No one has benefited from your Prize more than your ego and your pride. It has put you at a place where you have started to imagine that you are above people- but listen… do you really think you are better than all those people who suffer everyday? Are you better than a cobbler? Are you better than an ordinary clerk? Are you better than a peasant? Your ego has gone up so high that someday you are going to crash on your head and when you do, you’ll realize what was the biggest mistake of your life. You have wasted yourself at managing your impressions on other people, while as a person in yourself you have completely lost the race. As a person you have disappointed your conscience- you have taken every little hope that it had away from it. You have outrun yourself my friend!” and the whisper faded away.
He looked awe-inspired now. For the first time in his life, he actually believed that he was a schizophrenic yet he couldn’t have asked for a better realization.
Thunder...
Thunder- Lightning- Raindrops pouring down from the sky- and they stood there amidst it all. For a brief moment everything seemed to have stopped- or may be they did not want to move ahead- standing there in the middle of nowhere- like an astronomer on a dark night looking into the sky, they looked upwards. The night, certainly, was going to give way to sun at some point or the other. Precisely because of that they were not going to let go off this moment- this precious moment when hope seemed to have been fulfilled- when life eventually seemed to have purpose- when shadows seemed to be no longer surrounding them- though the thunder made their shadows on the ground for brief moments- but the fact remains that these brief shadowy moments were engulfed by thousands of moments of joy- so ironic it may sound- somehow the thunder had stolen those few seconds of happiness from their whole lives and joined them together into a night of felicity.
Persuasion- denial- all of it seemingly so pervasive that they could not stop but think about the future. Burying their fears- identifying their strengths- prevailing in the society- a future to look forward to; nothing seemed to be on their mind right now- just a midsummer night fling- a moment of silence- a moment of happiness- a moment of satisfaction- a moment of pride- for they had waited uncountable days for it to happen; so much had happened- yet so little had they changed. Standing on the mountain top- looking into the valley besides- she shook his hand off hers. Amazed- stunned- silenced was he. Feeling as if sinking in the valley beside him- he shook his doubts off- looked at her blank eyes- found nothing except doubts- doubts of betrayal- doubts of lies- doubts of dual faces- He wanted to jump off the cliff- yet she wouldn’t come with him. He tried his level best… Nothing seemed to work. He was not going to do it alone- he thought- thought about times when both of them had come so close- yet they had gone so far- times had changed- they were never so close to each other as they were now. Yet he felt a distance- ironic look in her eyes- as if leaving him in the middle of nowhere. He just couldn’t do it- just couldn’t jump off- shrugged the thought- left her there- came back home to his usual monotonous life- hoping that he will find her again- hoping that they will be together again- till then- he vowed to spend his life like she wanted it to be: a model for everyone around him…
It was the first time death had changed someone’s mind-
And he lived happily ever after…
My first day at this year's internship... RANDOMMMMMMMMMM SHYYYTE
and look what I wrote...
Blah blahblah… so sick of all this… meow!!1
Eh!!
The cat goes wild….
No please no…
Neways…
Life is chill…
And he says… fuck off…
I mean how pretentious can you be!!!
No clue…
Anyways… I just hope that everything turns out to be fine…
No… don’t tell me you have loads of work to do…
Yeah! I am telling you exactly that…
Nothing is new down here…
Howz the weather up there?
Not nice really. I wish I was there with you…
You wish…
Yeah I do wish… Do you have anything against that?
No… How can I have anything against that?
Cos’ you seemed like having some trouble…
No… Obviously infront of you I can’t say anything… can I?
No you can’t.
----------------------------------------------------------------
Yeah I am back again…
I wish you weren’t…
Funny eh? I don’t think so… It sounds so lame dude…
Somebody is pissed off like hell…
No! I am not pissed off mate. I just think you need some psychiatric treatment…
F*** off dude…
Now who is pissed off? Seems like I am the one who is… right?
No listen buddy! no matter how hard you try… your mere presence and your lame remarks won’t piss me off… want to try?
Yeah I know… My presence cannot piss anyone off… I am just too good for that…
Yeah right!
Yeah it is right dude… and you think I can’t irritate you?
Yeah I sure do. Try me?
Fuck it… I am not interested in writing anymore… I have to go do some stuff…
Excuses… excuses… excuses…
No its not an excuse… I will be back …
Electricity just went out… I was thinking may be… I could work too… I am a workaholic you see…
And I am Mel Gibson… duh…
F*** off…
You too…
See you soon…
----------------------------------------
Woops…
What am I doing here?
What? You don’t know what you are doing here mate. That’s strange. I thought you had all the things ready.
Yeah I thought that too. But things change.
Funny. You thought that nothing is going to change.
You will find it funny for sure.
And the tharki is here…
Enough of backbiting…
So what is up with you?
Nothing dude! I am sort of free all the time. You want to know how it feels? Oh, you won’t… sorry.
Friday, May 19, 2006
Just a thought...
There are times when one needs to be numb and secluded from the rest of the world whether that rest of the world consists of humans or just the feeling of sharing stuff. That period of imaginary secludedness is experienced by most of us. Times are changing and although we say that we don't change, but in fact we do no matter how much we deny it. So may be someone is travelling through this transitional phase of this journey.
May be someone is beginning to realise that its the beginning of the end or may be the end of the beginning because it never got started or did it? Someone is left perplexed and confused to say the least. Ironic, it surely is,Considering the ups and downs of it, one might say that it is the worst part when you are going through rough times. And it is vital for humans to realise that it is not always about the relationships between people. It is also significant to take into account the relationship between the soul and body of the individual. Ironically it is forgotten most of the times. It is imperative, therefore, that when that relationship is at stake, one has to give up the other relationships, at least for the time being, to maintain the sanity inside oneself. Why?
Because that latter one is more sacred and significant for the survival of the individual...
Thursday, May 04, 2006
Choti Si Kahani...
Choti si kahani se,
Baarishon ke paani se
Saari waadi bhar gayi,
Naa jaane kyon dil bhar gaya,
Naa jaane kyon aankh bhar gaya
I got to watch Ijaazat again after seven years and the more I watched it the more I liked it. Movie starts with this song: Choti Si Kahani Se which is quite ironic and symbolic of the whole movie- a movie which revolves around only three characters and how their lives are interconnected. On a rainy night, Mahinder awaits his train in a small railway station's waiting room. But life, at times, is full of surprises. He meets Sudha there- his ex-wife. From there begins Choti Si Kahani of memories and reminiscences: their journey together through thick and thin of life- a journey of sacrifice- a journey of compromise- a journey of mistakes- a journey that had ended five years ago.
...there is Maya- a wild and free spirit. An impulsive personality who just runs away from life at times- a totally mercurial person- an entity within human body radically different from humans themselves- Mahinder is in love with this girl- this incomprehensible Maya- He was her mentor- her lover- her cohort- her guide- her friend; and ironically she was the same for him. And like always she disappeared unexpectedly and he was forced to marry Sudha by his grandfather. Sudha- she was a total opposite of Maya- she was a symbol of serenity and tranquility- she was what a perfect wife could be- For sometime life had attained normalcy- but not for long.
Maya came back- and now he was stuck in the abyss of dilemmas. He couldn't, for once, forget his love- yet he did not want to cheat on Sudha- a wife that had tried to give him everything. When Sudha gets to know about it- she restrains herself. She tries to be understanding. When she asks Mahinder to give Maya her belongings back which were at Mahinder's place, Mahinder complies. But Maya ironically replies-
Mera kuch saaman tumhaare paas para hai,
Saawan ke kuch bheege bheege din rakhe hain,
aur mere ik khat main lipti raat pari hai,
woh raat bujha do, mera woh saaman lota do,
patjhar main kuch patton ki girne ki aahat,
kaanon main ik baar pehan ke lotayee thee,
patjhar ki woh shaakh abhi tak kaanp rahi hai,
woh shaakh gira do, mera woh saaman lota do,
Ik akeli chatri main jab aadhe aadhe bheeg rahe the,
aadhe geele aadhe sookhe, sukha tau main le aayee thee,
geela mun shaayad bister ke paas para ho,
woh bhijwa do, mera woh saaman lota do,
aik so sola chaand ki raatein, aik tumhare kaandhe ka til,
geeli mehndi ki khushbu, jhoot moot ke shikwe kuch,
jhoot moot ke waade bhi yaad kara do,
sab bhijwa do, mera woh saaman lota do,
aik ijaazar de do bas, jab isko dafnaungi,
main bhi waheen so jaungi...
Ironic- Symbolic. Anguish; it shows- the pain, the irony, the sorrow that she is going through. No one is at fault- but thats how life is... everyone has to go through it. Sudha gracefully walks out of this set up without making it ugly. Mahinder is now left alone without the much wanted care and support of Sudha. Maya as she is- unable and reluctant to understand the gravity of the situation- things just worsen. When Maya finally gets to understand the situation- its already too late.
Gulzar has done remarkable job in turning an ordinary story into a timeless classic. The situations depicted can be related to everyday life- yet its so touching- so sensitive to human desires- one tends to feel absorbed in this movie- Gulzar breaks away from the typical hysterical image of a wife worried about her husband's extra-marital affair. Maya is a character totally out of the blue. At least I haven't come across another movie with the same type of character. Mahinder's character may seem very cliched but Naseeruddin Shah does justice to the role and provides with an exquisite performance. Everytime I see Ijaazat, I tend to find another angle, another quality in the movie- Everytime I go through this journey of remorse and regret, of love and hate, of passion and sacrifice, of wisdom and insanity- I feel absorbed by it even more than before.
Gulzar has done remarkable job in turning an ordinary story into a timeless classic. The situations depicted can be related to everyday life- yet its so touching- so sensitive to human desires- one tends to feel absorbed in this movie- Gulzar breaks away from the typical hysterical image of a wife worried about her husband's extra-marital affair. Maya is a character totally out of the blue. At least I haven't come across another movie with the same type of character. Mahinder's character may seem very cliched but Naseeruddin Shah does justice to the role and provides with an exquisite performance. Everytime I see Ijaazat, I tend to find another angle, another quality in the movie- Everytime I go through this journey of remorse and regret, of love and hate, of passion and sacrifice, of wisdom and insanity- I feel absorbed by it even more than before.
Choti Si Kahani...
Friday, April 28, 2006
Homeless Mind
Life- Water- Fire- Smoke- Death- Ashes
He stood there, puzzled and petrified, while rain came pouring down from the skies as if angels were crying their eyes out. Life, it seemed, had moved on- moments, it looked, had passed away- memories, it felt, had been erased- yet he stood there looking out of the top corner of the open window of his room which was letting in the water to ruin wooden floor. Yet the floor being spoilt was the last thing on his mind at that time. His eyes, when seen from outside the window, looked as vacant as a voluntary delegation to hell would look like. Motionless would not have been the adequate word to describe his condition- because he had nothing to do with the word motion itself- nothing whatsoever.
Life seemed meaningless- questions and queries were in huge presence in the part of his body that people call mind. Why? Why do people expect me to be good to them? Why do I want to do impression management? Why do I have care about people’s response? What are these norms, stigmas, taboos and values? What? Why? If we are the supreme beings, then how come society decides for us what we ought to do? But wait, isn’t the society made up of people? Then shouldn’t it be humans who should decide for themselves what is right and what is not? Do we make up the society? Or does the society shape our behavior? The mind remained as vacant and empty as the look in his eyes.
Even the pungent burning smell emanating from the microwave did not capture his attention. He was lost somewhere else or may be it reminded him of the time when he had to watch while his mother had burnt in the kitchen itself. The police never investigated the case as it was considered to be a taboo in his family to let the body get massacred due to postmortem. Only he knew that the real culprits were his grandmother and aunt who did not like his mother. The resulting fire in his own kitchen from the microwave could not melt his frozen stance. He looked as if he was frozen in time. Smoke- Death-
Only ashes remained- the thunderstorm had gone- so was he…
He stood there, puzzled and petrified, while rain came pouring down from the skies as if angels were crying their eyes out. Life, it seemed, had moved on- moments, it looked, had passed away- memories, it felt, had been erased- yet he stood there looking out of the top corner of the open window of his room which was letting in the water to ruin wooden floor. Yet the floor being spoilt was the last thing on his mind at that time. His eyes, when seen from outside the window, looked as vacant as a voluntary delegation to hell would look like. Motionless would not have been the adequate word to describe his condition- because he had nothing to do with the word motion itself- nothing whatsoever.
Life seemed meaningless- questions and queries were in huge presence in the part of his body that people call mind. Why? Why do people expect me to be good to them? Why do I want to do impression management? Why do I have care about people’s response? What are these norms, stigmas, taboos and values? What? Why? If we are the supreme beings, then how come society decides for us what we ought to do? But wait, isn’t the society made up of people? Then shouldn’t it be humans who should decide for themselves what is right and what is not? Do we make up the society? Or does the society shape our behavior? The mind remained as vacant and empty as the look in his eyes.
Even the pungent burning smell emanating from the microwave did not capture his attention. He was lost somewhere else or may be it reminded him of the time when he had to watch while his mother had burnt in the kitchen itself. The police never investigated the case as it was considered to be a taboo in his family to let the body get massacred due to postmortem. Only he knew that the real culprits were his grandmother and aunt who did not like his mother. The resulting fire in his own kitchen from the microwave could not melt his frozen stance. He looked as if he was frozen in time. Smoke- Death-
Only ashes remained- the thunderstorm had gone- so was he…
Life- Water- Fire- Smoke- Death- Ashes
Monday, March 27, 2006
Tuesday, February 28, 2006
Freedom of Speech
Freedom, defined exclusively, means an absence of external restraints be it the issue of speech, religion or expression. From pre-renaissance to the modern conception of state-society relations, it has occupied a pivotal role in molding socio-political infrastructure of different polities. Freedom, as argued by numerous philosophers, is an inalienable right for human beings. The fact that it occupies an intrinsically good characteristic liberates it from the consequences. Opponents of freedom reject the hypothesis that considers this characteristic plausible, arguing that it is highly unrealistic and utopian; however, they neglect the benefits that can be accrued through provision of freedom. Pakistan, although a latterly emerged state, has experienced its fair share of quid pro quo of both sides of this debate. It is imperative to note that although Pakistani constitution does cater to the subject of freedom of speech; ironically it also lays down some restraints on it “in the interest of the glory of Islam”. Throughout Pakistan’s relatively short history, political as well as religious freedom of speech has never been provided to the polity as promised by the constitution.
In the political arena, Pakistani society has never been furnished with freedom of speech; rather press, scholars and intelligentsia has been smothered under the notion that “Ignorance is bliss for masses”. From the issue of partition to the history of Indo-Pak relations, truth has never been permitted to prevail in this highly despotic society. Politicians continue to blame military’s role in policy making for this oppression; ironically, however, except for Zia’s regime, our society has savored more freedom of speech under military regimes than democratic governments. In both cases, press was never allowed to criticize governmental policies for better or worse; rather it was coerced to portray the government as being the Messiah for the people. People never got to know what went wrong in 1971 when East Pakistan was separated. Why? The reason put forward by the political elite has always been that it might have created turmoil and upheaval in society at that time. This phenomenon is not only confined to India-Pakistan relations; instead instances like this can be found in suppression of political resistance to American “War on Terror” as recently as 2005.
In addition to the controversial foreign policy issues, our society has not even enjoyed freedom of speech and expression domestically as well. Pakistan, in last couple of decades, has become a victim of sectarian and ethnic conflicts with thousands of people dying every year in such clashes. Politico-military elite, who is at helm of affairs in Pakistan, have constantly made sure that individual thoughts about such matters do not get raised. They justify this oppression by stressing upon the ideology of national interest. However, they tend to forget that although it might not be beneficial in the short term for the country, it eventually does lead to increased consensus and awareness among the masses. Religious debates about the idea of freedom have also lead to monolithic misinterpretation on the part of our political leaders. In fact one can have freedom of expression as long as one is saying what Mullahs want them to say. Religion has been highly misinterpreted in Pakistan, with minorities not even having the right to express what they feel about Islam. Blasphemy laws just indicate the sort of restraints that state has put on the society.
The whole debate about whether to allow complete freedom of speech or not largely revolves around the issue of national unity. However, a fact that is ignored by proponents of restraints on individual liberties is that it can lead to increased sense of association towards the state. Conflicts can be solved through peaceful means instead of being fought violently. Individual liberties are, thus, more crucial than the false illusion of national unity that authorities put forward in our country. America’s success is largely attributed to rising capitalism; however, bill of rights plies the basic foundation for this success which provides rights of speech and property among many others. No matter how much the so-called Islamists label them as being contrary to Islam, there is not a single issue that can be found contradictory to Quran and Sunnah in providing expressional, religious and property rights to individuals.
Our country has had a volatile political history and it’s about time we digress from the political norms of oppression. Musharraf government, although, has accomplished a good deal in providing press with freedom, there is still a lot to be done. In encouraging and advocating freedom of expression, we should, however, never forget that with freedom comes responsibility. If the freedom is offered to us, we should grab the opportunity with both hands.
Saturday, February 25, 2006
Sixth Sense
The candle sitting right next to the window was fluttering like a flag in the brisk breeze near the sea. That was not the only thing- Everything seemed to be moving impatiently: the shadows on the wall, the door, the windows, He himself. Was it an earth quake? Were the tremors real? Or were they coming from within? He did not know. He sat there- motionless- yet his shadows were moving. Why? He wasn’t in motion? Why were his shadows moving then? Yes, he was shivering okay… But that was that. Nothing more than that- Shadows don’t magnify those shivering movements. Do they? Then why-
He did not have those answers. Those dark moments- those moving curtains- those droopy eyes- pages flying around- time seemed to stop- yet everything was moving. How ironic, huh! He closed his eyes for the first time in ages. Walls were cracking- or were they? He got up- eyes closed- walked towards the voices- yeah there were voices in that room- voices within the silence that had engulfed the room. He felt the surrounding waves in the air- he smelled the poignant smell emerging from the candle- he touched the walls around him- he tasted the salt in the breeze- he heard, felt, smelled, touched, tasted. But it was still something else- his sixth sense.
It was time- time to move on- time to gather himself up- time to feel life for a change- time to have quid pro quo with the monster within- time to give up had gone- it was time to fight- yet he felt weak- weaker than ever before. Back to normalcy- back to where he had wished he would never be- time to answer the calls- time to take responsibility- time to…
He opened his eyes- closed the doors, shut the windows, turned on the light- but wait… there was no electricity running in the circuits. A plane was landing somewhere near. He could hear the thundering sound that its engines were making- He thought about the people on board- then he stopped. He visualized himself sitting in a plane like that- traveling from his home to a place unknown to other men. He was afraid, afraid of people, afraid of conversations, afraid of confrontation, afraid of everything that this world had to offer. Yet he did not wish to die- Why would he want to die when it wasn’t his fault that he wanted all that? Or was it?
The dim light of the candle had just stopped fluttering- the world was not moving anymore- contradictions had been solved. Electrons were up and running again. Not in the circuits around his house, but rather in his own mind. It was working after all. Everything started to make sense now or did it. He turned his laptop on- logged on to yahoo- opened his inbox- checked his mails- and there it was. The answer to all his questions…
Dear Son,
I hope when you get this email, I would be dead…
I hope when you get this email, I would be dead…
His legs shivered- tears followed- time stopped again.
…I know you wanted me to never contact you. I know what I did to you was wrong, I know. Life is like that, my son. It’s not fair to us. It was never fair to me. That is fate. You can never be sure what’s going to hit you until it hits you. You must be wondering why I am mailing you at this time of my life. Well, to be honest, I don’t know myself. I regret the fact that I haven’t always been there for you. But I guess, it’s too late for that too. Nonetheless, I just wanted to apologize. I know you don’t have that bigger heart to forgive me… Let’s face it- After what I have done to you, if I would have been at your place, I would have killed me by now. But you did not, so I guess that, sort of, eases it out for me. It is, probably, the last time you are hearing anything from me. I want it to stay that way. From now onwards, I would be literally dead for you. Though I have been figuratively dead for you for years, but just wanted to request you something before I die. I know you’d not be willing to do that. But it is something I really want you to do it please. It’s my last wish that you come to my funeral. I want you to be there. Please son…
Your father.
23rd December, 2004.
Your father.
23rd December, 2004.
Sixth sense- Huh!
He closed his laptop- opened the windows again- breathed a long breath.
He closed his laptop- opened the windows again- breathed a long breath.
The calendar on the wall showed-
27th December, 2004.
27th December, 2004.
Wednesday, January 25, 2006
The Cage
The cage was closing in on him- it was harassing him- making it hard for him to breathe- making life tougher than it already was. It seemed to him as if he was there in that cage since eternity- yet he could not define what eternity really meant. He was restless to know all the meanings of life- so helpless to know anything about it though. He looked at the other soul standing in the cage next to him and he thought- does it feel the same way as I do? Does it have same psychological phases as I go through? Does it really exist? Does it?
Lot of questions but no answers; He realized. He looked in other soul’s eyes and could see a replicating image of lost cause there as well. Lost cause! He stuttered for a minute. Then he went ahead… though quite hesitantly:
“How long have you been here?”
Silence.
“Do you mind me asking you a question?” He continued.
A brief sigh… and a mind-your-own-business look appeared in its eyes.
“I am sorry if I am interrupting your never ending solitude, but the truth of the matter is that I have had enough of keeping quite here. I am starting to wonder if you are even like me or not… sick and tired of this cage and its walls.”
“He just wouldn’t stop” It said to itself.
“I am asking you a question; for heaven’s sake answer me.”
“Do you have the guts to listen to the truth?
“You bet. I have the guts to listen to anything right now; be it some stuff from the sages or even some crap.”
“You never give up. Do you?”
“No, I don’t.” He said with a victorious smile on his face.
“Then listen and listen carefully. You must have heard the cliché that everything happens for a reason. Well! No one ever believes that. You being stuck here with me- what reason could be given for that? That’s what you are thinking right now; aren’t you?”
“You could say that, but…”
“Then you must want to get out of this place. You think you have a right to do so but in fact you don’t. Nobody has any rights in this structure. You think you don’t belong here then I am really sorry. You aren’t the one making any decisions here neither am I. But it doesn’t stop here. Even if you manage to get out, what do you think you would do? Go have fun with your family and friends, hang out and what not? Right--- yeah you may be right but that’s not all. You get out of this cage and you think you are free. You are not- you have more responsibilities- you have more obligations- you have more restrictions- The term freedom doesn’t necessarily mean you always get it. The irony is that you never get it. You think you are in a cage right now? I’d say you are in a cage-in-a-cage. You will never get freedom my friend. Never… Its not about your perception of freedom- its about the freedom you get in little things in life- the freedom that your mind possesses while you are sleeping- the freedom that your hands enjoy when you are not doing anything- the freedom that your eyes possess when they are closed and are at your discretion to remain closed or not- the freedom that every part in your body has when you are not doing anything intentionally- that is freedom my friend. Not some old conceptualization about freedom, liberty and rights. That’s all crap. Now let me sleep… I want to get pleasure from my freedom”
And he stood there amazed at what it had said; not really wanting to get outside that cage anymore.
Nothing said again.
Freedom accomplished, “sanity” lost.
Lot of questions but no answers; He realized. He looked in other soul’s eyes and could see a replicating image of lost cause there as well. Lost cause! He stuttered for a minute. Then he went ahead… though quite hesitantly:
“How long have you been here?”
Silence.
“Do you mind me asking you a question?” He continued.
A brief sigh… and a mind-your-own-business look appeared in its eyes.
“I am sorry if I am interrupting your never ending solitude, but the truth of the matter is that I have had enough of keeping quite here. I am starting to wonder if you are even like me or not… sick and tired of this cage and its walls.”
“He just wouldn’t stop” It said to itself.
“I am asking you a question; for heaven’s sake answer me.”
“Do you have the guts to listen to the truth?
“You bet. I have the guts to listen to anything right now; be it some stuff from the sages or even some crap.”
“You never give up. Do you?”
“No, I don’t.” He said with a victorious smile on his face.
“Then listen and listen carefully. You must have heard the cliché that everything happens for a reason. Well! No one ever believes that. You being stuck here with me- what reason could be given for that? That’s what you are thinking right now; aren’t you?”
“You could say that, but…”
“Then you must want to get out of this place. You think you have a right to do so but in fact you don’t. Nobody has any rights in this structure. You think you don’t belong here then I am really sorry. You aren’t the one making any decisions here neither am I. But it doesn’t stop here. Even if you manage to get out, what do you think you would do? Go have fun with your family and friends, hang out and what not? Right--- yeah you may be right but that’s not all. You get out of this cage and you think you are free. You are not- you have more responsibilities- you have more obligations- you have more restrictions- The term freedom doesn’t necessarily mean you always get it. The irony is that you never get it. You think you are in a cage right now? I’d say you are in a cage-in-a-cage. You will never get freedom my friend. Never… Its not about your perception of freedom- its about the freedom you get in little things in life- the freedom that your mind possesses while you are sleeping- the freedom that your hands enjoy when you are not doing anything- the freedom that your eyes possess when they are closed and are at your discretion to remain closed or not- the freedom that every part in your body has when you are not doing anything intentionally- that is freedom my friend. Not some old conceptualization about freedom, liberty and rights. That’s all crap. Now let me sleep… I want to get pleasure from my freedom”
And he stood there amazed at what it had said; not really wanting to get outside that cage anymore.
Nothing said again.
Freedom accomplished, “sanity” lost.
Tuesday, January 03, 2006
Chay of the Day...
and the Award goes to...
Khairi and Khizer... for Poker Night (2006)
Congrats...
Since they are not here... I would like to invite "Pocket 2's" to come and collect their award of 140 Rs. All in.
Pocket 2's: I can't describe my feelings right now... *Sigh* I would especially like to thank Khairi, Baoo and Laipu. Without them it wouldn't have been possible. Thank you...
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