Poverty

The train slowly starts moving- she is standing at the platform- she is confused- her mind wanting to board the train- her heart asking her not to- her feet start moving in unison with the train- her hands refuse to get a hold of the door- she turns around- starts running backward- running away from fate- running away from making a choice- she was afraid- afraid of her own actions- afraid of her own stance- afraid of her own innocence.

She runs out of the platform- checks herself- stops herself- composes herself. Her heart is beating faster than the rhythmic sound the train is making on the track- much faster- she turns around again- sees the fading light from the backend of the train- she starts running again- her feet are running faster than the rhythmic sound the train is making on the track- much faster- somewhere in distance a voice is echoing- she ups her speed- a pleading voice- she is almost at the train’s trail- an insistent appeal- the train picks up the speed too- an incessant guilt- she is running out of breath- she wishes she does-

The train wins- she loses- guilt wins- pledge loses- destiny wins- fate loses-

She falls- nobody is there to pick her up- life is sucked out of her or so it seems- for a moment she lies as motionless as a thousand year old rock at the bottom of dead sea- dead sea- movement- eyes open- a shadow falls- another movement- eyes close- dogs bark- humans wailing- humans bark- dogs wail- silence- agony- anguish- fear-

Truth hurts- but telling the truth to someone you love hurts more- it hurts- it hurts- for once she wished she was a mute- for once she wished she was deaf- for once she wished she was blind- for once she wished she’d died- familiar voice- husky voice- her husband’s voice:

“Where’s our kid?”

“Where’s our son, Baby?”

Silence.

“Where is our Shumail, Shazre?”

Tears. Tears of guilt? Tears of remorse? Tears of pain?

“Where the hell is our kid?”

Movement. Eyelids are closed. For one last time.

Dogs bark- humans wail-

Destiny wins- Fate loses.

Author’s Note:

She came to the station to tie her two year old son to the track. She couldn’t muster up the courage to do the unthinkable. Instead she ended up putting him on the train to a land far far away. Her crippled husband was the last person to see her close her eyes forever. They couldn’t afford to feed their son.

I believe...

I really can’t comprehend the dexterities of past one week’s events- neither do I want to. It started on a high- life was good, vivid, glowing- then it happened- it happened quicker than even the speed of light- I lay there thinking that peace and calm would allow me some sleep- a sleep to remember- a night to remember- a dream to survive- a life to live- an opportunity to thrill myself- a distinct possibility- an imagined reality-

Then something started pushing me- pushing me down as if my room was the cemetery and my bed my grave- rain of tears had softened the ground- darkness had replaced tiredness- my memories had taken over the shovel’s job- there was a burden on me- a huge invisible burden yearning to bury me alive in the ruins of my own mind-

Those moments of peace and calm seemed a long time ago; replaced by a fear- fear of death- fear of mortality- fear of failure- fear of success- fear of life-

The shadows of memories were rising from the west and setting in the east; completing their endless circles- my mind becoming the hub of everything- like the sun in our solar system- my diverse personalities circling around it like planets- the sun revolving around its own axis- churning out immeasurable heat of confusion-

I am helpless because I am not gloomy, no, not at all; rather I have found peace in something else- when my life is going off-track- when things are beginning to go berserk- I am calm- because she is there- she is there- full of life ready to take the burden of disappointments off my shoulders- may be she is not ready- may be she is just there- but her mere presence makes me forget things- her smile makes me smile- just the mere fact that she is there has made life bearable; in fact adorable- I want to continue- I want to struggle- I want to live-

As I sit here and put this piece down on paper, I don’t know what this would reflect except that randomness is the only constant- that life is full of ups and downs- someone said to me you need to have the downs to wish for ups- I couldn’t agree more- I’m in a downward spiral right now looking for a change in fortune- a ray of light- a ray of hope- a miracle-

I shouldn’t believe in miracles- but I do- may be I’m living in a dream- may be- but for what it’s worth I’d take that chance- I’d never let go off my desire for miracles- why? Because I believe in an entity that is controlling us all- that is bigger than us- that knows what is best for us- and even when there are times when we find ourselves at our wit’s end, miracles happen- so I still hope that imagined reality is real not a figment of my imagination- because that’s my survival- because she brightens up my surroundings- because I want to live- because I believe- I believe…

Sleepless- Chapter One

He was sitting there- staring out of the window- staring at the darkness that engulfed his surroundings- staring at the clouds that covered a full moon- staring at the lamp burning miles from where he sat- staring blankly was he…

Sleep seemed like a dream, a longing, and a distinct, almost impossible, possibility. The fact that he hadn’t slept in seven days did not seem to take its toll on him at all. He looked fresh, vigorous, vivacious and vibrant despite sitting idly besides the window. He wanted to open the glass pane of the window but was afraid- afraid of the cold breeze- afraid of its effects on his sleepless sleep.

Yes! Sleepless sleep: He was awake yet in a dream- he was tired yet energetic- he was confused yet clearheaded- he was surrounded by a plethora of contradictions. At this point in time he did not want to think pragmatically- he wanted to be a dreamer, an escapist, an idealist…

Deep in the shadows of the darkness, someone was screaming for help, yelling for assistance, hollering for care. He didn’t respond-

His problem?

He was tired- tired to care- tired of being there.

He had become indifferent, numb, and aloof to all the occurrences even in his own street. In the background, The Cranberries were playing ‘Dreams’ on the radio- their sound extenuating any chance of him hearing the call for help. May be he could hear the voice but was not willing to respond. May be he never heard the call. May be he was just being an apathetic…

Clouds roared with earsplitting thunders- Raindrops started hitting the glass-window blurring his vision. Maybe it was raindrops that blurred his vision or maybe his lack of sleep was eventually catching up on him. He closed his eyes for the first time in seven days…

Belief, Denial, Faith and Doubts

A vicious cycle is being followed throughout the globe. He looked up at the sky wondering if there was a God or not. All he could see was pale blue sky littered with some grey clouds here and there. He stopped in his tracks, looked back and tried to trace his own steps. He was standing in the middle of a desert with no one else is his sight. Yet he could not figure out how his own footsteps were being erased from the sand. There was not a single hint of wind blowing. If there had been some wind he wouldn’t have minded it at all. He had been in the desert for past 26 hours and nobody had come to his rescue. He finally gave in- buried his head in the sand- waited for divine intervention. For the first time in his life, he hoped for the idea of a God to be true. The miracle happened. The rescue got to him. She was beautiful.

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She was sitting alone in her apartment. The only light present in the room was coming from a crack in window blinds. She was staring at the television which was switched off. She was staring at her own reflection. Her life had been brilliant- her family ever present- her love never departed- her child, at her, never shouted- yet she sat there all alone. She wondered what had left her in such a desolate place. She wondered and no answers arrived. Then it hit her like a lightening strike in a dark moonless night. The flash blinded her for a second. She closed her eyes- took a deep breath- her denial came crashing down- she achieved peace after all. The window opened and the room was lit up.

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He was fighting against the current- fighting for survival- fighting to save her life- fighting. The flood had taken them by surprise. Chatting in their small chateau off the coast of Spain, they were living their perfect happy lives. They loved the smell of earth that came due to the rain- they loved every part of their lives. Suddenly the flood struck their home and she found herself clinging on to his arm for her life. She had faith in him- he had faith in her- they knew they’d make it. They were together. But it wasn’t meant to be. Faith is a strange thing- placed in wrong places, it can lead to doubts. He died- she was rescued.

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Why wouldn’t she have doubts now? Why wouldn’t she be in denial?

“because that light coming from the crack in the window is bigger and better than anything else. It is hope, it is life, it is faith- kept in the right place- the place of God.”

A Lesson Learnt, A Life Wasted...

I had been feeling hollow and empty for past couple of days. Everything was silent and wonderful; and I kept on asking myself what gives me satisfaction? What are our lives all about? Why are we here? Why are we doing what we do? What is the purpose of our lives? No answers arrived. It was all so hushed and still; a bit too much silence for me. It felt as if I was walking over the waters of calm ocean of numbness. I never thought that I was standing on top of a monster that was just waiting to unleash itself. I never thought that. It was fun being numb. It was fun being oblivious. It was fun to question the life that I had. It was all so much fun…

But as they say one doesn’t appreciate what he has. I did the same thing. I never appreciated the beautiful things about myself and my life. I never understood what this life really meant to me. I never spoke out loud what I really felt inside me. I never could. Today that sleeping monster has unleashed itself and I find myself fighting for my life- the life that I had made fun of- the life that I had questioned about so ruthlessly- the life that at that time meant nothing to me- that life- How I wish it would not all go away.

Today when everything has gone from bad to worse, I find myself wondering if I have brought it upon myself. May be I have never been thankful enough- may be I haven’t been thankful at all. May be I was being unrealistic and selfish- may be I was being idealistic. Today when everything around me seems to be sinking in the abyss of lost hope, I find myself yearning for my old life. I want to hang onto it. I want to enjoy it as much as I can. I don’t know if I ever will as my fate hangs in balance. People say fate has its own ways of bringing us back into reality. Today was the day when fate has indeed brought me into this chaos and clutter that we call reality. May be the storm will pass, may be the monster will die, may be I will hold onto my life or may be not. One thing is certain though, that I will never yearn for something I really can’t and shouldn’t have. We should all be thankful for what we are, for what we have achieved and for a life that we so easily overlook often.

The Train Arrives...

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.

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.