Monday, September 7, 2009
The Koel's Cry.
I'm sitting here, in an early morning periodontology lecture, listening intently, when suddenly I hear the Koel's cry. It's odd listening to her, mango season and spring are over, so this Koel is a little unseasonal. But with it's very first 'koo' I'm transported back to lazy summer afternoons at my nano's, looking out her dinning room window into her tree-shaded backyard. The whole house is down for their afternoon siesta and like that line in that christmas poem, "not a creature was stirring...not even a mouse". Maybe my memories have been airbrushed and softened by time, chances are I was just deathly bored in those afternoons (after all this is pre-cable), but now whenever I hear the Koel and whenever I think back to those afternoons, all I remember is an exceptional feeling of peace and calm. It's funny how one sound can trigger so potent a memory and transform a whole morning for me. It is these sudden sounds and sights and smells that make me so thankfull that I'm still in Karachi. That make it so difficult for me to ever even imagine setting up a family anywhere outside Pakistan, and that make me pray with all my soul that Pakistan makes it through it's problems. That it stays afloat, because I don't think I can live elsewhere.
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Laugh Out Loud.
I just watched this really brilliant video piece on an apparent unofficial underground club in Karachi. Literally underground. A friend of a friend had posted it on facebook, I wanted to put it up here, but I have no idea where he found it from, because I havn't been able to. Point is, it was posted with the usual caption of aizab-e-Allah and how we're all as a nation headed to hell and all that. I, however, felt nothing but rich, bubbling laughter rumble up from somewhere deep within me. I love stuff like this, I love any small, ridiculous piece of evidence that shows me that Karachi is still alive. Still raw...rebellious...pulsating...seductive. I'm glad for the people who decided to start it, and a little awed by the people with the courage to go there (I don't drink and can't dance, so have always been a little wary of the whole clubbing business). Though, I will say this, I'm a little pissed that I've lived here for 22 yrs, and never hear a word about stuff like this. I think I make all the wrong friends :D
As for the rights and wrongs of the matter; I have a few basic rules by which I live life
1) Every person has the right to think, believe and do whatever they see fit, as long as they don't hurt, force or harass anybody else. If a person wants to get drunk, good for them, if they want to drink and drive, the world has every right to tear them limb from limb.
2) Telling people they can't do something never has the desired effect. Pre- Zia, Pakistan had cabarets and nightclubs, those who wanted to go went, those who didn't want to go, didn't. We weren't any more or less muslim then, than we are now. The only difference lay in this little thing called freedom of choice, and I believe just getting a choice in the matter keeps everyone happy.
3) People who are quick to label others, right or wrong, good or evil, are usually the worst sort of hypocrites. The labelling is done to turn the spotlight away from their own guilt.
4) In the end, we are judged on the basis of our own deeds, not what our neighbours did or what our countrymen did, just ourselves. Hence, there is no need to stick your nose in another's pantyhose.
As for the rights and wrongs of the matter; I have a few basic rules by which I live life
1) Every person has the right to think, believe and do whatever they see fit, as long as they don't hurt, force or harass anybody else. If a person wants to get drunk, good for them, if they want to drink and drive, the world has every right to tear them limb from limb.
2) Telling people they can't do something never has the desired effect. Pre- Zia, Pakistan had cabarets and nightclubs, those who wanted to go went, those who didn't want to go, didn't. We weren't any more or less muslim then, than we are now. The only difference lay in this little thing called freedom of choice, and I believe just getting a choice in the matter keeps everyone happy.
3) People who are quick to label others, right or wrong, good or evil, are usually the worst sort of hypocrites. The labelling is done to turn the spotlight away from their own guilt.
4) In the end, we are judged on the basis of our own deeds, not what our neighbours did or what our countrymen did, just ourselves. Hence, there is no need to stick your nose in another's pantyhose.
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Here I Go Again.
Things seem to be slipping quickly back into old patterns. I was so enthusiastic at the beginning of this year, but everything is spinning fast out of control and I have no clue how to stop this train wreck. A friend keeps telling me to stop over thinking things and worry about the IDPs of Swat instead. Sound advice, but it doesn't always work. I haven't needed to vent in a long time, once again, I have no clue what I'm doing, and that scares the shit out of me.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
The Sky Is Falling (And it Really Is This Time).
I'm sitting here, listening to the radio right now. What I'm hearing is heart breaking and terrifying. Some radio channel has had the brains to go to Mingora, Swat and personally interview the people who are having to make their way through everyday life there. Here is what those people have to say
A secondary school girl:
She quotes islamic hadiths that ask followers, both men and women, to educate themselves, to actively seek knowledge. She gives the example of an educated widow, who upon the death of her husband can use her education to get a job and earn honourably for herself and her children, as opposed to the eneducated widow, who's only option is to sell herself and dance for men, everything the Taliban claims it wants to prevent. She wants to know who's Islam these men are following. When asked whether she has any response to the fact that these people claim that they are true believers and the rest of us are wrong, she refuses to believe that these men could be muslims in the first place, she knows they're wrong and states unequivocally there is no majboori in Islam, no use of force advocated, no threats, no bombings, no throat slittings, no beheading and no judging. Mere people, mere mortals have not been given the right to judge their fellows, that right always has and always will belong only to Allah. Who's right and who's wrong and who gets punished for what is only up to Him to decide. She boldly states what I wish more people would realize, that these men and their deeds are worse than anything any kafir could do because it's in the name of Islam. She spoke of the anger she felt when she realized that her dreams, her family's expectations, and the dreams of thousands of girls like her were going to be reduced to dust, that she might never become a doctor, her friend may never become a teacher, her other friend may never join the army. She wonders where the government is, where our army is, the army that's supposed to be one of the largest in the world, the one on which 2/3rds of our budget is spent each year, how an army of that proportion can't take on a few armed men?
A med school principle:
She spoke of how her family had relocated to karachi, how difficult it was becoming to live in Swat. How in a few years the number of women in the health profession or for that matter any profession were going to dwindle to none. She also spoke of how upon visiting Karachi a little while ago and witnessing the massive scale upon which Zardari's security is organized, she couldn't help but wonder why the government couldn't reroute some of that security towards Swat? Good question I guess.
A nurse:
She too spoke of how, soon, there weren't going to be any women hospital personnel left. When asked what women would do incase of emergencies then, she just said " well they (the taliban) should have thought of that". She spoke of an incident where a Taliban commander bought his wife to the hospital for a C- section and expected them to help her as he swore at the female nusrses and doctors and threatened to blow up the hospital if they didn't all stop working there and go home. How they were going to manage both save his wife and not work was anyone's guess. She spoke of how those who could afford it were leaving swat for other citys but those who couldn't, well, their future was bleak. She spoke of the sorrow she felt for the younger girls who weren't even going to get the oppurtunity to follow their dreams.
A shopkeeper:
He spoke of how this hadn't happened overnight, how for years now things had begun to change subtly. How scared women were, how things had shifted slowly from wearing the chador to being forced to wear the burqa to being unable to leave the house without a mehram. What women who's husbands/fathers/brothers were dead or working in other countries, were going to do was again, anyone's guess. He just wanted the Taliban to go home and his city to go back to normal.
The interviewer also took us on a small tour of mingora with a local journalist telling us how zanana bazaar, specifically for women, was completly deserted, how just a year or two back the place used to be jam packed. He took us to a roundabout where, for the past 2 years, numerous bodies have been turning up daily, all beheaded or mutilated.
XXXX
I guess the only thing left to say is that everyone start digging your gaza style underground escape tunnels to china, iran or india, because it looks like we're going to need them soon. As for all those who think that oh, it'll never happen to pakistan, I suggest you take a good look at Afghanistan and it's past.
A secondary school girl:
She quotes islamic hadiths that ask followers, both men and women, to educate themselves, to actively seek knowledge. She gives the example of an educated widow, who upon the death of her husband can use her education to get a job and earn honourably for herself and her children, as opposed to the eneducated widow, who's only option is to sell herself and dance for men, everything the Taliban claims it wants to prevent. She wants to know who's Islam these men are following. When asked whether she has any response to the fact that these people claim that they are true believers and the rest of us are wrong, she refuses to believe that these men could be muslims in the first place, she knows they're wrong and states unequivocally there is no majboori in Islam, no use of force advocated, no threats, no bombings, no throat slittings, no beheading and no judging. Mere people, mere mortals have not been given the right to judge their fellows, that right always has and always will belong only to Allah. Who's right and who's wrong and who gets punished for what is only up to Him to decide. She boldly states what I wish more people would realize, that these men and their deeds are worse than anything any kafir could do because it's in the name of Islam. She spoke of the anger she felt when she realized that her dreams, her family's expectations, and the dreams of thousands of girls like her were going to be reduced to dust, that she might never become a doctor, her friend may never become a teacher, her other friend may never join the army. She wonders where the government is, where our army is, the army that's supposed to be one of the largest in the world, the one on which 2/3rds of our budget is spent each year, how an army of that proportion can't take on a few armed men?
A med school principle:
She spoke of how her family had relocated to karachi, how difficult it was becoming to live in Swat. How in a few years the number of women in the health profession or for that matter any profession were going to dwindle to none. She also spoke of how upon visiting Karachi a little while ago and witnessing the massive scale upon which Zardari's security is organized, she couldn't help but wonder why the government couldn't reroute some of that security towards Swat? Good question I guess.
A nurse:
She too spoke of how, soon, there weren't going to be any women hospital personnel left. When asked what women would do incase of emergencies then, she just said " well they (the taliban) should have thought of that". She spoke of an incident where a Taliban commander bought his wife to the hospital for a C- section and expected them to help her as he swore at the female nusrses and doctors and threatened to blow up the hospital if they didn't all stop working there and go home. How they were going to manage both save his wife and not work was anyone's guess. She spoke of how those who could afford it were leaving swat for other citys but those who couldn't, well, their future was bleak. She spoke of the sorrow she felt for the younger girls who weren't even going to get the oppurtunity to follow their dreams.
A shopkeeper:
He spoke of how this hadn't happened overnight, how for years now things had begun to change subtly. How scared women were, how things had shifted slowly from wearing the chador to being forced to wear the burqa to being unable to leave the house without a mehram. What women who's husbands/fathers/brothers were dead or working in other countries, were going to do was again, anyone's guess. He just wanted the Taliban to go home and his city to go back to normal.
The interviewer also took us on a small tour of mingora with a local journalist telling us how zanana bazaar, specifically for women, was completly deserted, how just a year or two back the place used to be jam packed. He took us to a roundabout where, for the past 2 years, numerous bodies have been turning up daily, all beheaded or mutilated.
XXXX
I guess the only thing left to say is that everyone start digging your gaza style underground escape tunnels to china, iran or india, because it looks like we're going to need them soon. As for all those who think that oh, it'll never happen to pakistan, I suggest you take a good look at Afghanistan and it's past.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Be Not Afraid.
Tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock.......
What should I do, just around and go home?
No not now, it took you so long to get here.
What should I do, ask them to take me back?
No not now, it's been too long.
What should I do, just stand here and disappear into the crowd?
No, you're already invisible.
What should I do, forget why I'm here and go somewhere new?
No, there's no place left to go.
Then tell me, what should I do?
Stop and wait, wait for the world to stop spinning, wait for your knees to stop shaking, wait for your hands to stop sweating, wait for your lips to stop quivering, wait for your heart to stop racing, wait for your mind to stop screaming, wait for your soul to stop wanting, wait for the crowd to stop gasping, wait for their eyes to stop mocking, wait for the vultures to stop circling...
Then take a step forward and start walking, because you have a journey to complete, a destination to reach and there isn't much time.... no time to look back and regret, no time to look ahead and fear, look around you and be grateful for the distance you have covered, thankful for the places you have seen, nostalgic for the time that has passed, sorrowful for what you have lost, and hopeful for what has yet to happen....but then.... keep walking.
What should I do, just around and go home?
No not now, it took you so long to get here.
What should I do, ask them to take me back?
No not now, it's been too long.
What should I do, just stand here and disappear into the crowd?
No, you're already invisible.
What should I do, forget why I'm here and go somewhere new?
No, there's no place left to go.
Then tell me, what should I do?
Stop and wait, wait for the world to stop spinning, wait for your knees to stop shaking, wait for your hands to stop sweating, wait for your lips to stop quivering, wait for your heart to stop racing, wait for your mind to stop screaming, wait for your soul to stop wanting, wait for the crowd to stop gasping, wait for their eyes to stop mocking, wait for the vultures to stop circling...
Then take a step forward and start walking, because you have a journey to complete, a destination to reach and there isn't much time.... no time to look back and regret, no time to look ahead and fear, look around you and be grateful for the distance you have covered, thankful for the places you have seen, nostalgic for the time that has passed, sorrowful for what you have lost, and hopeful for what has yet to happen....but then.... keep walking.
Friday, January 9, 2009
Where Does It All End?
I take it back. As mad as I may be at the rest of the world, even I can't shut myself away from what's happening in Gaza. It's terrible and it's wrong. But it does make me wonder whether the holocaust really was so horrific. Whatever I've ever read or heard or studied or known about the holocaust always made it seem like it was this unthinkable evil, and I believed it and sympathized, and I still do. But what I am entirely unable to understand is; how a race of people, who have apparently survived such a cruel example of human nature, could treat others with the same inhumanity just a few decades down the line? Maybe it's some form of Stockholm Syndrome, you know. Identifying with the abuser and all that, and Gaza is just a manifestation of it.
Monday, January 5, 2009
Naked Lunch: Blow Daddy
By Nadeem F. Paracha
Dawn Images
04/01/09
Daddy?
Yes, son.
Are we going to have a war with India?
Perhaps.
Oh, goody. We will thrash them, right? Like we did in 1857!
It wasn’t in 1857, son.
Oh, okay. But whom did we thrash in 1857?
The British, son…
And the Hindus too, right?
Well…
Did Quaid-i-Azam fight in that war along with Muhammad bin Qasim and Imran Khan?
No, son. The Quaid and Imran were born much later and Muhammad bin Qasim died many years before.
Then who ruled Pakistan in those days?
There was no Pakistan in those days, son.
But there was always a Pakistan! It has been there for 5,000 years!
Who have you been talking to, son?
No one. I’ve just been watching TV.
It figures.
Daddy, why are all these people against us Arabs?
Arabs? But we aren’t Arabs, son.
Of course we are because our ancestors were Arabs!
No, son. Our ancestors were of the subcontinental stock.
Sub-what?
Never mind.You seem to like wars, son.
Yes. I like to watch them on TV.
But real wars are fought outside the TV, son.
Really? How is that possible? What sort of a war is that?
Never mind.
Daddy, you look worried.
Of course, I am, you little warmongering punk!
Daddy! Why are you scolding me?
Because TV is talking rot and so are you!
Daddy, are you supporting Hindus?
No!
Daddy, have you become a kafir?
Keep quiet! No more TV for you! Go watch a movie on DVD or listen to a CD.
Can’t do that.
But we have so many DVDs and CDs, son.
Not any more.
What do you mean?
I burned them all.
What?!
I burned them all.
I heard that! But why?
They spread obscenity.
Oh, God. Son, go do your homework. What happened to that science project you were working on?
It’s almost complete.
Good boy. What are you making?
A bomb.
What?!
A bomb.
I heard that! But why?
Because I am a true Muslim who hates America.
But only last week you wanted to go to Disney Land.
That’s different.
How come?
Mickey Mouse is Muslim.
No, he isn’t.
Is so. He converted when he heard azaan on the moon.
On the moon?
Yes. Because the earth is flat and…
What??
The earth is…
I heard that!
Daddy, do you want to see my science project, or not?
Gosh, that bomb? But your science teacher will fail you.
No, she wont.
Really?
Yes. I plan to blow her up as well.
God, what is wrong with you? Go call your mother!
She can’t come.
Why not?
I’ve locked her in the kitchen.
But what for?
A woman’s place is in the kitchen. I will not let her out until she covers herself up properly!
But she’s your mother!
She’s also a woman!
So?
So she should be hidden.
Hidden from whom?
The whole world and Tony.
Tony?
Yes, Tony.
But Tony’s a cat.
Yes. But he’s male.
Son, have you gone mad?
No. By the way, I’ve made sure Kitto starts covering up as well.
Kitto?
Yes, Kittto.
But Kitto’s a cat!
Yes. But a female cat.
But she’ll suffocate.
Oh, she’s already dead.
What?
She’s already dead.
I heard that! But how?
I buried her alive.
You what?
Yes. To avenge Tony’s honour. But now I will behead Tony.
But why?
To save mom’s honour!
Oh, God!
Don’t say that. Always say Allah.
What’s the difference?
Daddy, do you want to be beheaded too?
No!
Do you want to be stoned to death?
No!
Do you want to be flogged?
No!
Do you want to get your arms chopped off?
No!
Then stop asking silly questions. By the way, I won’t call you daddy anymore.
What will you call me then?
Whatever that is Arabic for daddy.
I don’t know any Arabic, son.
That’s because you are a kafir.
Who the heck are you to tell me who I am, you little fascist twit!
What’s a fascist?
An irrational, violent, self-righteous mad man!
W... aaaaaaa...
Why are you crying?
You scolded me.
Okay, I’m sorry. You have to be tolerant and rational, son. Now be a good boy and go read a book instead of watching TV.
I have no books.
Of course, you do. I bought you so many books.
I burned them.
What?
I burned them.
But why?
They were all in English.
So?
It’s a non-Muslim language!
But we are speaking English, aren’t we?
W... aaaaaaa…
What now?
Zionists made me forget my Arabic.
But you never knew any Arabic, son.
W... aaaa… yes, I did until you and mommy gave me the polio drops… aaaaa…
Okay, tell me, can you do me a favour?
Sure, dad.
Can you blow up something for me?
Oh, goody! Of course, dad. What should I blow? A CD shop, a hotel, a school...?
No, no, something a lot more sinister.
Mom?
No, no…
What then?
The TV set!
What?
Blow the TV set.
I heard that! But why?
Just do it!
I see. Dad?
Yes.
You’re so unconstitutional!
Is there anything more left to say honestly. This is a brilliant piece of writing simply because in one imaginary conversation Paracha has managed to highlight one of the most important issues facing Pakistan today, the talibanisation of our society. The fact is the world seems to think the that terrorists and the iraq war and the taliban have really only affected the "civillized", "liberal", "secular" parts of the world. That 9/11 was significant only for the US, well guess what, it wasn't. In barely a decade it has almost destroyed us. I'm done sympathizing with the rest of the world. I'm not going to wear black armbands for mumbai, we suffer the mumbai "carnage" everyday of the week, be it in Karachi or Lahore or Peshawar or Islamabad or Quetta. I'm not going to wear ribbons for Palestine because no muslim country has ever defended us, infact they've stood there pointing fingers at us and making us their scapegoats just so their precious economies don't crumble incase of a mass exodus of american dollars. All the US occupation of Afghanistan has done is pushed the militants into our territory, it hasn't solved anything. It's more like they've been told well you really can't ruin Afghanistan any further, why not cause turmoil in Pakistan, they're muslim too you know, but not very good ones. We are slowly losing every little nuance that defined us as a nation in it's own right, our own people are beginning to forget that we aren't arab, we aren't indian and we're not afghan. We're Pakistani. A beautiful amalgamation of centuries of cultural influences from every region of the world, our entire heritage is like no other. We can trace our lineage back to the indus valley civilisation (ghandara, harrapa, moehenjodaro), the mongols, the persians, the turks, the arabs and even the greeks. Even our language is a mix; turkish and persian and arabic and sanskrit and uncountable smaller regional dialects. We don't belong to any single nation, but are a wondrous people in our own right. I can't understand why we forget that so easily, why we have to constantly prove ourselves to somebody or the other, be they muslim or non-muslim. I'm done pretending I care. But you know what, we're going to make it anyway, we're going to survive through it all, because we still have people who remember what being pakistani means, who are trying as best as they can to retain their identity and trying to remind others of theirs. Be it through writing or music or art or media, some how, we'll survive this disaster as well
Hmmmm....I guess I did have plenty left to say.
Dawn Images
04/01/09
Daddy?
Yes, son.
Are we going to have a war with India?
Perhaps.
Oh, goody. We will thrash them, right? Like we did in 1857!
It wasn’t in 1857, son.
Oh, okay. But whom did we thrash in 1857?
The British, son…
And the Hindus too, right?
Well…
Did Quaid-i-Azam fight in that war along with Muhammad bin Qasim and Imran Khan?
No, son. The Quaid and Imran were born much later and Muhammad bin Qasim died many years before.
Then who ruled Pakistan in those days?
There was no Pakistan in those days, son.
But there was always a Pakistan! It has been there for 5,000 years!
Who have you been talking to, son?
No one. I’ve just been watching TV.
It figures.
Daddy, why are all these people against us Arabs?
Arabs? But we aren’t Arabs, son.
Of course we are because our ancestors were Arabs!
No, son. Our ancestors were of the subcontinental stock.
Sub-what?
Never mind.You seem to like wars, son.
Yes. I like to watch them on TV.
But real wars are fought outside the TV, son.
Really? How is that possible? What sort of a war is that?
Never mind.
Daddy, you look worried.
Of course, I am, you little warmongering punk!
Daddy! Why are you scolding me?
Because TV is talking rot and so are you!
Daddy, are you supporting Hindus?
No!
Daddy, have you become a kafir?
Keep quiet! No more TV for you! Go watch a movie on DVD or listen to a CD.
Can’t do that.
But we have so many DVDs and CDs, son.
Not any more.
What do you mean?
I burned them all.
What?!
I burned them all.
I heard that! But why?
They spread obscenity.
Oh, God. Son, go do your homework. What happened to that science project you were working on?
It’s almost complete.
Good boy. What are you making?
A bomb.
What?!
A bomb.
I heard that! But why?
Because I am a true Muslim who hates America.
But only last week you wanted to go to Disney Land.
That’s different.
How come?
Mickey Mouse is Muslim.
No, he isn’t.
Is so. He converted when he heard azaan on the moon.
On the moon?
Yes. Because the earth is flat and…
What??
The earth is…
I heard that!
Daddy, do you want to see my science project, or not?
Gosh, that bomb? But your science teacher will fail you.
No, she wont.
Really?
Yes. I plan to blow her up as well.
God, what is wrong with you? Go call your mother!
She can’t come.
Why not?
I’ve locked her in the kitchen.
But what for?
A woman’s place is in the kitchen. I will not let her out until she covers herself up properly!
But she’s your mother!
She’s also a woman!
So?
So she should be hidden.
Hidden from whom?
The whole world and Tony.
Tony?
Yes, Tony.
But Tony’s a cat.
Yes. But he’s male.
Son, have you gone mad?
No. By the way, I’ve made sure Kitto starts covering up as well.
Kitto?
Yes, Kittto.
But Kitto’s a cat!
Yes. But a female cat.
But she’ll suffocate.
Oh, she’s already dead.
What?
She’s already dead.
I heard that! But how?
I buried her alive.
You what?
Yes. To avenge Tony’s honour. But now I will behead Tony.
But why?
To save mom’s honour!
Oh, God!
Don’t say that. Always say Allah.
What’s the difference?
Daddy, do you want to be beheaded too?
No!
Do you want to be stoned to death?
No!
Do you want to be flogged?
No!
Do you want to get your arms chopped off?
No!
Then stop asking silly questions. By the way, I won’t call you daddy anymore.
What will you call me then?
Whatever that is Arabic for daddy.
I don’t know any Arabic, son.
That’s because you are a kafir.
Who the heck are you to tell me who I am, you little fascist twit!
What’s a fascist?
An irrational, violent, self-righteous mad man!
W... aaaaaaa...
Why are you crying?
You scolded me.
Okay, I’m sorry. You have to be tolerant and rational, son. Now be a good boy and go read a book instead of watching TV.
I have no books.
Of course, you do. I bought you so many books.
I burned them.
What?
I burned them.
But why?
They were all in English.
So?
It’s a non-Muslim language!
But we are speaking English, aren’t we?
W... aaaaaaa…
What now?
Zionists made me forget my Arabic.
But you never knew any Arabic, son.
W... aaaa… yes, I did until you and mommy gave me the polio drops… aaaaa…
Okay, tell me, can you do me a favour?
Sure, dad.
Can you blow up something for me?
Oh, goody! Of course, dad. What should I blow? A CD shop, a hotel, a school...?
No, no, something a lot more sinister.
Mom?
No, no…
What then?
The TV set!
What?
Blow the TV set.
I heard that! But why?
Just do it!
I see. Dad?
Yes.
You’re so unconstitutional!
Is there anything more left to say honestly. This is a brilliant piece of writing simply because in one imaginary conversation Paracha has managed to highlight one of the most important issues facing Pakistan today, the talibanisation of our society. The fact is the world seems to think the that terrorists and the iraq war and the taliban have really only affected the "civillized", "liberal", "secular" parts of the world. That 9/11 was significant only for the US, well guess what, it wasn't. In barely a decade it has almost destroyed us. I'm done sympathizing with the rest of the world. I'm not going to wear black armbands for mumbai, we suffer the mumbai "carnage" everyday of the week, be it in Karachi or Lahore or Peshawar or Islamabad or Quetta. I'm not going to wear ribbons for Palestine because no muslim country has ever defended us, infact they've stood there pointing fingers at us and making us their scapegoats just so their precious economies don't crumble incase of a mass exodus of american dollars. All the US occupation of Afghanistan has done is pushed the militants into our territory, it hasn't solved anything. It's more like they've been told well you really can't ruin Afghanistan any further, why not cause turmoil in Pakistan, they're muslim too you know, but not very good ones. We are slowly losing every little nuance that defined us as a nation in it's own right, our own people are beginning to forget that we aren't arab, we aren't indian and we're not afghan. We're Pakistani. A beautiful amalgamation of centuries of cultural influences from every region of the world, our entire heritage is like no other. We can trace our lineage back to the indus valley civilisation (ghandara, harrapa, moehenjodaro), the mongols, the persians, the turks, the arabs and even the greeks. Even our language is a mix; turkish and persian and arabic and sanskrit and uncountable smaller regional dialects. We don't belong to any single nation, but are a wondrous people in our own right. I can't understand why we forget that so easily, why we have to constantly prove ourselves to somebody or the other, be they muslim or non-muslim. I'm done pretending I care. But you know what, we're going to make it anyway, we're going to survive through it all, because we still have people who remember what being pakistani means, who are trying as best as they can to retain their identity and trying to remind others of theirs. Be it through writing or music or art or media, some how, we'll survive this disaster as well
Hmmmm....I guess I did have plenty left to say.
Saturday, January 3, 2009
It's About Damn Time.
I thought about it and realized that I never write when I feel like this, deliriously happy for absolutely no fathomable reason. I always write when I'm unhappy but never when I'm happy.
Obviously this happiness is slightly synthetic (ie: hormone induced), since I think it's just one of those rare times when my PMS does not manifest itself as severe clinical depression, instead it comes about as a butterflies-in-my-stomach, heart-beating-erratically, flushed-with-excitement kind of happiness. It's not a bad feeling and infact it's been a long time since I've felt this way. If memory serves correct, I think the last time may have been eleventh grade and that was actually four years ago. Don't get me wrong, it's not as if I'm forever wallowing in a pool of my own despair (I know it may seem that way to most, but I'm really not). I'm generally happy enough, I have a good life (mashallah), one that I'm very thankful for. It's just that it's been a very long time since I've felt this sort of unbridled excitement, the kind that makes you feel as if anything is possible and that all sorts of good things are waiting for you round the corner. The sort of feeling that says "your life has just begun, live it"!
So who cares if it's idiotic and erratic and bears a strong resemblance to severe bipolar, and probably won't last past 2pm tomorrow afternoon, when all the caffiene I'm hopped up on wears off and real life (ie: pharma and patho and oral) comes creeping back in. It doesn't matter. I'm happy tonight and I think I'll just leave it at that.
Obviously this happiness is slightly synthetic (ie: hormone induced), since I think it's just one of those rare times when my PMS does not manifest itself as severe clinical depression, instead it comes about as a butterflies-in-my-stomach, heart-beating-erratically, flushed-with-excitement kind of happiness. It's not a bad feeling and infact it's been a long time since I've felt this way. If memory serves correct, I think the last time may have been eleventh grade and that was actually four years ago. Don't get me wrong, it's not as if I'm forever wallowing in a pool of my own despair (I know it may seem that way to most, but I'm really not). I'm generally happy enough, I have a good life (mashallah), one that I'm very thankful for. It's just that it's been a very long time since I've felt this sort of unbridled excitement, the kind that makes you feel as if anything is possible and that all sorts of good things are waiting for you round the corner. The sort of feeling that says "your life has just begun, live it"!
So who cares if it's idiotic and erratic and bears a strong resemblance to severe bipolar, and probably won't last past 2pm tomorrow afternoon, when all the caffiene I'm hopped up on wears off and real life (ie: pharma and patho and oral) comes creeping back in. It doesn't matter. I'm happy tonight and I think I'll just leave it at that.
Thursday, January 1, 2009
Pretty Sweet.
Cherry menthol inside,
I find you hiding in my bedside pocket,
Come along for the ride,
Cola bottles and a sherbet rocket,
No one knows, what the,
Future holds, if we,
Just hold on, maybe life could be sweet,
Just a quarter of you,
Would be better than this empty record,
Maybe it's true,
You could be as good as barley sugar,
No one knows, what the,
Future holds, if we,
Just hold on, maybe life could be sweet,
I am wishing what you're wishing for,
And i am hoping what you're hoping for,
I am wishing what you're wishing for,
And i am hoping what you're hoping for,
I am wishing what you're wishing for,
And i am hoping what you're hoping for,
I am wishing what you're wishing for,
And i am hoping what you're hoping for,
I am wishing what you're wishing for,
And i am hoping what you're hoping for.
Sugar Mouse- Oh, Atoms!
2008 was a work-in-progress kind of year, so I've finally begun to lose that feeling of being stationary. I'm still not entirely sure where I'm headed, and I still don't know what I'm looking for, but things have definitely started changing. I'm finally changing, moving forward again. I got to know myself better in '08, became more comfortable with who I am, worked on the bits of me I'm really not proud of, got out there a bit more, did some things I've always wanted to, faced a few of my fears and worked on facing the rest of them. I've gained a better understanding of the people around me and what they expect of me, as well as what I can realistically expect of them. The changes aren't complete yet, I'm still working on a lot of things. It's going to take time, but I don't mind, I'm pleased enough by the results so far. As for 2009, well, it's like the song says, no one knows what the future holds, but if we just hold on maybe life can be sweet. Though to be really honest, I've always preferred things slightly bittersweet, so I'd never say no to a little bit of drama ;)
I find you hiding in my bedside pocket,
Come along for the ride,
Cola bottles and a sherbet rocket,
No one knows, what the,
Future holds, if we,
Just hold on, maybe life could be sweet,
Just a quarter of you,
Would be better than this empty record,
Maybe it's true,
You could be as good as barley sugar,
No one knows, what the,
Future holds, if we,
Just hold on, maybe life could be sweet,
I am wishing what you're wishing for,
And i am hoping what you're hoping for,
I am wishing what you're wishing for,
And i am hoping what you're hoping for,
I am wishing what you're wishing for,
And i am hoping what you're hoping for,
I am wishing what you're wishing for,
And i am hoping what you're hoping for,
I am wishing what you're wishing for,
And i am hoping what you're hoping for.
Sugar Mouse- Oh, Atoms!
2008 was a work-in-progress kind of year, so I've finally begun to lose that feeling of being stationary. I'm still not entirely sure where I'm headed, and I still don't know what I'm looking for, but things have definitely started changing. I'm finally changing, moving forward again. I got to know myself better in '08, became more comfortable with who I am, worked on the bits of me I'm really not proud of, got out there a bit more, did some things I've always wanted to, faced a few of my fears and worked on facing the rest of them. I've gained a better understanding of the people around me and what they expect of me, as well as what I can realistically expect of them. The changes aren't complete yet, I'm still working on a lot of things. It's going to take time, but I don't mind, I'm pleased enough by the results so far. As for 2009, well, it's like the song says, no one knows what the future holds, but if we just hold on maybe life can be sweet. Though to be really honest, I've always preferred things slightly bittersweet, so I'd never say no to a little bit of drama ;)
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