The Third Wave & The Third World

The prime minister – who didn’t follow SOPs during his corona days – is lamenting the nation for not following SOPs.

A same counterpart is in the neighborhood.

Both the neighbors are prime examples of not only illiteracy and poor health, but also extremism, intolerance, religious violence, mob justice, bigotry and blasphemy.

But both have weapons of mass destruction worth millions of dollars.

The man whose limbs were visible due to hunger, is proud that his country did a successful missile experiment.

The man whose kids are not getting proper education, is happy that his side of the soldier raised the leg higher than the other side.

And those who will die like insects in public hospitals, are happy that they have a mighty arsenal and a stock of atomic bombs.

Hence, mob. Crowd. Religious fanatics. Patriots. Nationalists. On both sides of the border.

Imagine, how much better would have been health and education infrastructure in these countries if they wouldn’t have wasted money in Kashmir, Kargil, LOC, wars, stupid show-off at Wagah and routine firings at the border?

Ah! Business.

Imagination is an art. We imagine Ghazwa-e-Hind. They imagine Greater India. Imagining such dreams on ventilators would be a sight of its own. But here’s a shortage of ventilators. And oxygen too.

But no shortage of morons.

One is dying due to lack of oxygen. The other not giving a shit about anything.

This part of the world is an insane part of the world. Let’s hope it’s cleansing in process.


In battle of left and right, you need to stand ‘right’. Corrected, I mean. It’s not a battle of left and right, but some words should be written rightly.

The state has a higher responsibility than any mob. It has the responsibility of law and order. And the state is to blame when blood is spilled due to negligence or poor decision making.

A few examples:

Lal Masjid Operation was wrong.
Akbar Bugti’s Operation was wrong.
7 May riots of Karachi were wrong.
Model Town incident was wrong.
Various military operations in Balochistan were wrong.
Distribution of funds to TLP members was wrong.
Allowing a violent / extremist outfit to contest election was wrong.
And now, the current brutal operation against TLP members is wrong.

The state – be it PPP, PML-N, PTI, or the all time military establishment – was wrong in all the above instances.

The state cannot mimic and claim methodologies of a mob or an outfit. TLP members hurt policemen and the public. In return, the state cannot justify such brutal actions.

There are situations when operations are needed in the end. But they should always be the last resort.

Washington’s Capitol Hill was attacked by a mob. The state remained in utmost senses and did a fine job in tackling the crisis. Various past examples from around the world can be seen under such circumstances.

But, dictatorial regimes always opt to show power. They don’t surrender to their public (pun intended) and they don’t have much sense of politics and peace.

So, here we are. Wrong again. Wronged again. But the words should be right.

And that shouldn’t be an argument for miscarriage.

Democratically speaking, PTI and Imran Khan should complete their term. I know, they are not even ruling but even the worst democratic setup is better than a direct dictatorial regime.

Who is Prime Minister Imran Khan, anyway? We – including His Highness – make fun of him but he is not even to blame in most of the matters. Apart from his tongue and his uncompromised selfishness to stay in the PM House, there is nothing wrong with the guy because he has nothing to do any harm.

Nonetheless, the government should complete its term democratically.

Lastly, Qazi Faez Isa said all of the above mentioned words of wisdom in his judgement. He told the state and deep state to behave and mend ways. But ‘mend your own house’ was a sin back then. Treason. Hence, he is facing his consciousness in court. Dragged but not dirty. And the only ‘right’ man in town.

P.S. His Highness has used the word ‘right’ with different intentions in different statements. I hope you won’t get confused. Or – let His Highness get it ‘right’ that ‘right’ has always been a violent pain in the arse of various countries around the world. But here, we feed and nurture right. To stay right in power. Right?

Pimp Service of Pakistan (PSP)

Imagine the hostility of circumstances that people are saluting the police. Sigh! The police which has been providing pimp services with violence and fear.
Sahiwal massacre was a police job.
Rao Anwar is a police product.
Rape cases of kids in Kasur were protected by police.
Kids in madrassahs got raped and remained unnoticed because police are impotent.
All the wrongdoings – major ones or minor ones – have police custody inside the station and outside, within the vicinity.
A guy gets killed. His brothers file an FIR. And then police intimidate them to take the case back, otherwise they will also be killed by the rivals. Instead of serving justice, they work as brokers. Like pimps.
FIR. First Information Report. Where a person has to pass through trauma, humiliation and insult in the hands of these men in uniform.
Have you visited a police station ever? Let me narrate some first-hand information. You can buy and smoke hashish and other drugs in the station easily. Prostitutes come and provide services – blackmail and rape actually – free of cost. At least one transgender is in custody in the station all the time, to serve and fulfill power needs.
There are two types of people in custody. Rich and poor. Rich stay in the Inspector’s room. The poor sleep on the prison floor.
Rich pay through money. Poor pay through their bodies.
The situation is ugly. One uniform created this mess of TLP to enhance their political power – which they always had. The other uniform is just consuming and digesting their crap. These two uniforms have always worked together, against the public; and rarely had a clash.
But the grace of uniforms has fallen so low that we are saluting Pimps Service of Pakistan i.e. Police.
This is the same police which makes us uncomfortable and unsafe as soon as we see them.
So stop saluting. This is their job. And they are hardly providing any outcomes. I know, this is not their mess but yes, they are part of our mess. And whatever is coming back is nothing more than karma.

Of all the filth around, Qazi Faez Isa was the one man who was correct. You got offended on the gutter thing. Don’t worry. Cockroaches evolve sooner than later.

They – unapologetically – are looking forward to salutes. Undeserved and unearned salutes. For all their corruption. Violence. Bribery. Injustice. Ugliness. And pimping.

Nah! Uniforms haven fallen low. Not the salutes.



Have you ever wondered why people have to come out and save the religion every once in a while?

Why is the religion in danger?

Like the state? Security state, actually.

Why do the saviors and defenders of this religion promote it in two ways? One day, they tell us that this religion will remain till the Judgement Day; and the next day they are out on the roads trembling that their religion is on the brink of collapse.

How come a divine message becomes vulnerable?

Sometimes, the religion is damaged by a word. Sometimes by a sketch. A poem. A couplet. A novel.

A few days back, a nurse in Faisalabad almost destroyed the religion of 1.5 billion people by removing a half-torn sticker on a cupboard. She, single handedly defeated the Ummah.

How do you buy that?

From which side of the brain do you get that?

I want to smoke that religious opium too.

Of course, it’s Dunhill talking. It’s the longest gap since last Ramazan and things are dull and foggy.

But again. Wonder. Whether it is ‘I, dependent on the religion’ or ‘the religion, dependent on me’?

Oh! Let me set both free.

Walli – In the Name of M. (Part-II)

It is about the pain which gave his words meaning. It is about Walli who writes in red ink. He writes and bleeds. He humanizes his pain, to decorate your bookshelves, which you put in the history section. 

It is about the pain which kills your organs gradually inside you, like cancer, but cancer is nothing; comparatively speaking. 

It is about cancer inside itself. Cancer has a chance. And cancer is inside you and is yours. You own it. It grows inside you like a child in a womb. 

How do you suffer chronologically? 

There is no chronology to Walli’s life. Lives actually. I have narrated fragments of his life in different eras. 

He drank the poisoned hemlock to be Socrates. 

He went astray once – not actually – and shouted Ana al-Haq to be Mansur. 

He rebelled once and his rebellion was so harsh that his own brain ate himself. He declared ‘God is dead’ to be Nietzsche. 

The world is Walli’s stage. An ugly stage, for experimental purposes. Sometimes a million die because of a bad experiment. 

And there is no chronology. How can a story be narrated when it has neither a beginning nor an end? 

For example, in the year 2014, on this very same day, the sun was embracing his skin like a usual April sunshine. She arrived around Zuhr and the journey of separation started. 

In the year 2015, it was exactly 246 days of separation between the two. 

In the year 2016, her 2nd birthday was celebrated in a family court. 

Since then, it’s a journey in a black hole. 

Is there a deadline?

The life, as we know it, is an illusion. The pains, the gains, the rewards, consequences; everything is an illusion. Tangible illusions. Perhaps your dreams, when you sleep, are the reality. You only wake up to sleep again. You work hard to sleep better. You get your health checked to have uninterrupted slumber. Sleep is the cause and dreams are the reward. Simple.  

But Walli hasn’t slept in ages. During his first birth around 470 BC, he was conscious before coming out to the world. He was ready to be delivered to the world of pain. A world with questions and no answers. Hence, experiments. Bad ones mostly, causing terror and havoc. 

What is love?

What if I tell you that your soul-mate – apparently – has said “I love you” to his/her ex more times than you? Will this objective information be useful? What if you haven’t heard “I love you” not even half the times of the ex? Does it matter? 

Where does your existence fall exactly?

And what if you have never said “I love you” to the person you love the most? 

Love is an illusion too. Delusion, to be accurate. Walli didn’t say “I love you” to the person he loved the most. He didn’t. Yet he is travelling. Coming again and again, in different shapes, in different times, to die, again and again. 

Drinking the poisoned hemlock. Rebelling to be killed. Writing to be blasphemous. Fighting with his own self. Getting defeated every time, to be resurrected again and again as victorious. 

One time, in 1974, he chose another path of rebellion. He wanted to take the kings by the collars to hang them. He roamed around with his sword to kill the rulers. The hunger he has always cherished. He went so far that he became incorruptible. The incorruptible Maximilien de Robespierre. And in standing corrected, he got executed. He was executing to get executed. He did. People don’t see that. They see history. Walli writes that. He sees the other way. 

Who is Walli actually?

Imagine a big war – like World War II – where bombs are being dropped from planes and you are lying in a field with an injured leg. And you look in the sky and think about the war and your potential death. You think about the person – who you have never met – for whom you have sacrificed your life. Your life. Your family.  Your children. For what? For a land which is going to bury you. That’s all.

So, where are you actually? One among the million dead soldiers. One of the soldiers lying in the field. Looking at the sky and absorbing the color blue, while painting the field red with his wounds. A no one. Mr. nobody. This is the part of history which no one writes. And this is Walli; but no one knows. 

And like Socrates, who smiled before taking the final sip, because he knew everything – before and after – was nothing more than a piece of crap. 

And like Nietzsche, who proclaimed that God – God forbid! – is not anymore, and you are Übermensch. Like Walli. 

Let the drums beat. Let the sand of the desert shiver with the coming army of Saladin. Let the hearts burst with fear. Let the swords rise high in the air to dissect. Dissect arms. Dissect bodies. Kill at will. For the Promised Land. But that doesn’t matter. Who wants to get into the Promised Land to die? The bar has two sides. Richard’s side and Saladin’s side. But it is exactly the same bar. And Walli doesn’t want to die in the field, looking at the sky, thinking of nothing. That will happen after 8 centuries. 

Here lies the final question for us. Why is he roaming around times and creating havoc everywhere? Because he has a reason. He was torn apart once. The system, the world, the people, the dots, the plays, the characters; everyone took from him his most valuable presence. His part. To whom he never said “I love you”. 

So, let it burn. Let the world burn. Turn everything into ashes. Because nothing exists; and what exists doesn’t matter.

For him, she is the world.

This is the part of history no one writes about.

But Walli is history himself. 

And that is all in the name of M. In the name of Maryam.

For him, the Promised Land has no promise and nothing to offer. Not to him at least. So, he has been enjoying. While sitting in the desert, he watched the giant approaching army. Drums were making a beautiful rhythm. A little rustle in the wind. A little vibration in the sand. With a chilled Coke can and a Dunhill, he has been having his time of rest. 

Now you must be wondering that there wasn’t Coke and Dunhill in 1187. Right. Doesn’t make sense. But you should be asking whether he was Saladin or Richard at that time. Well, none. He was sitting in the desert. With a Coke can. And a Dunhill. 

Makes sense? Doesn’t matter. 

Walli – An Old Conversation

“I will kill you,” said the voice on the phone. “I will kill your whole family. I don’t care about a single fucking thing. I will fucking kill you all.”

“Okay. But talk to me with respect,” Walli replied calmly.

“You don’t know me. I have abused lots of people in my time. I was known for my terror,” said the voice again.

“I know. I don’t care and I am not afraid of anything,” Walli replied with the same steady tone, while a storm was beginning to brew.

“Nothing will be left for you. I will pay 15 lac 20 lac and all will be done,” the voice threatened.

“I am not afraid of death,” Walli’s voice rose a little, “I am more afraid of life perhaps. And to die in the pursuit of my daughter would be an honor. You do what you can do and then I will do what I can.”

“What do you want?” The voice finally quieted down.

“My daughter.”


“Why not?”

“You don’t deserve your daughter,” said the voice, causing the winds to blow more angrily.

“Well a person who knows nothing but lies will say that,” replied Walli in an unusually loud tone. “I am not going to justify myself. My Lord will do that as He has promised me. What I promise you is that I am not going to back down. I am not going to be silent. I am not going to be blamed again. I sacrificed everything that I had. I gave up my name. My reputation. My money. My honor. But now it is my daughter. I am not going to give up my daughter. It may cost me my life. So be it.”

In the ancient times of Walli, it hadn’t been like that. Back in the times of Great Africa, everything was normal. Parents were not denied of their children. During the Caliphate, parenthood was respected.

Now times had become tough. All those centuries, Walli travelled to see his daughter. And just when he saw her, she was taken away from him by her mother. By a conspiracy. By a series of events.

Walli never thought that lies consistently told for months ultimately become the truth. He himself was a victim of blame games and horrible lies and half-truths.

Now Walli doesn’t mind. He answers when you ask. He won’t answer when you won’t ask.

But his daughter is not a person for him to compromise. His daughter is not a tool of revenge for him. He has been abused. He has been tortured. But he hasn’t ceased to smile as soon as he sees her. Even in his dreams.

Walli never realized that life is threatening until he got death threats. Life has more to mourn. Death has a charm. He was here for a purpose. For an eternal mission. Death was a holiday for him till he was born again and came back.

“I repeat,” Walli continued in the same high tone, “You have done a lot of damage for years. I remained silent. I’m not silent anymore. I am going to courts. I am going to police stations. I am doing it the just way. I can do all these things the other way too. But I won’t. Because it is a matter of a future generation. It is a matter of my daughter for whom I have given everything already. Next time when you address me, you talk to me with respect. Otherwise I will wipe the slate clean.”

The voice on the other end started to shudder. The threatening tone became threatened. The sun started to rise from the dark clouds of this age.

Yet the storm continues to brew.

Random Numbness (April 2021)

Welcome. It’s been a while since numbness; so this will be a long one. Fasten your seatbelts and brace for impact.

The PM was on TV a few days ago. Uttering crap and bickering like usual. Selling religion, as it sells. But then he went farther and talked about rape, parda, fahashi, and stuff. Don’t want to go in details as you must have heard and digested that already. Some of you must have agreed with him as well.

Don’t want to get personal with him, and won’t; but this man is the finest hypocrite we have ever produced. The finest. He can bend in any direction for his selfish reasons.

Right now, he is not even a PM but he is having the media time, PM house, and other benefits of the PM. That is all that he has wanted for 22 years. 22 years he sold something and in the end was purchased by those who were the ugliest in his (earlier) view.

Ugly man to sit on top. Loves lecturing. A tasbeeh in hand. Pictures of offering Namaz. Talking about state of Medina. And that’s all that he has to offer.

What he said about rape and temptation was his ugly side of consciousness. I bet he doesn’t believe it himself because this is not the way he lived and this is not the way his kids are living.

Kids – both genders – are not safe here. Kids under the age of 5 are raped and murdered routinely here. Graves are not safe. Dead bodies are not safe. How come parda as an argument? Temptation?

What we need is a complete re-hauling of our education system. We need to teach sex education with evolutionary syllabus which will offer different content to students of different age groups. We need actual history to be part of the curriculum; where we need to accept our mistakes. We need curriculum on inter-faith harmony to make this land more feasible to live for humans.

Anyway. No one can talk sense here except the senseless men.

Do you know how much the establishment of a hospital costs? A state-of-the-art – well equipped –public hospital of 200-beds costs around Rs.4-5 billion. That’s the same amount which was wasted on a parade of 23rd March. On 25th March. The day was 24th March.
And it wasn’t a defense day. Anyway. It was a Republic day. But then the constitution was torn out and Ayub happened who undid Fatima Jinnah.

Too fast for historical duffers.

And that was all intentional, but my description is numb – under anesthesia – and is unintentional.

The other day, National Assembly – Patriotic Assembly – approved a bill against ‘intentional’ disrespect of forces. Intentional. Like PM’s temptations.

Do you know when such bills are needed? When you are pathetic to the core. Now tell me, what can we talk about? Cement? Cereals? Serials? Songs? Movies? DHAs? Construction? Logistics? Textiles? Sugar? Fertilizers? Housing schemes? Parade? War? Missing people? Not missing people? Half buried people?

You can talk unintentionally only. Mumble. Act as if you have dozed off and are talking sense while not in senses. Like a Guy Ritchie character where you are absolutely unnecessary.

And what about those who lick all day?

I have a friend – in disguise – who defends the government and its selectors like a rotten soul. Shouldn’t he get some award? Like Tariq Jamil and Mehwish Hayat were awarded – though for opposite reasons? I wish my friend gets some award.

Medal of honor se yaad aya that SSP Jawad Qamir got Sitara-e-Shujaat for his work. He killed a family after all. Remember Sahiwal massacre? Yes, that guy was awarded too. This is approval of state terrorism. Just when you think this stage can not fall further, it does. Next year, they may award Rao Anwar for good use of bullets and Ehsan Ullah Ehsan for his escape. Who knows?

And Ali Zafar was awarded too. He is, till now, accused in a sexual harassment case. His award should have been deferred at least. But we have this mockery of stuff. We have awarded those who didn’t deserve it. Hamayun Saeed got it too. Why not my friend?

By the way, POTUS did wrong. They invited 40 PMs and ignored ours who did the billion tree – bullion tree – tsunami bluff. Maybe they do some research. Like satellite images and comparative data. Cacophony though. PM and I, both were not happy with that.

We need investment of Rs.1 billion for marketing of 1 billion trees. That’s the plan now.

And the mockery doesn’t end here. PM approves a thing as a PM and then rejects it as someone else. Then he asks himself and talks to himself and then comes up with a final decision. But one thing is there. Kashmir is discarded. Militarily and officially.

Now remember you standing in the sun after Jumma prayer for the sake of Kashmir. Remember those days? It never was about you or Kashmir.

Kashmir is a business.
A cash cow.
Cash for Pakistan.
Cow for India.

A little about PDM.

It has fallen from grace. They stood for something which is the root-cause of all the problems in Pakistan. They took pizza by the name and threw it off the shelves. They stood tall against threats. But then, PPP stepped back. PPP has always done that since the murder of Z. A. Bhutto. The legacy it has, since 1988, is of a sell-out. They sold Karachi to Rangers and made it a perpetual burning hell – where generals like Naseerullah Babar and SSPs like Rao Anwar – went on killing sprees without a show-cause.

A day will come when tables will turn. See, PPP is in the lap now. Like PTI is. Like PML-N was. Like PML-Q always is. So, tables will turn. Though the lap will remain the same. And all the current NAB and FIA cases will be closed, and new ones will open.

The day Imran Khan will take a stand – the same stand he had for decades till he sold himself out – will be the day he is taken to the courts. He will be taken for his foreign funds, BRT, tsunami, and every single blunder he has made. Dozens of cases are ready to make his life miserable, if he will take a stand. So, he won’t. But he may.

No one knows what comes to mind and what is uttered after a snort.

So, the lap is the same and it’s all about the lap and lap dance.

Have you seen an actual lap dance, by the way? I have. Once. That too in Dam Square of Amsterdam.

Next time, His Highness intends to ask the dancer to come in uniform and dance on my lap. And history will witness His Highness, as the first one who will change the lap.

Official Soliloquy

PM: Who told you to open trade with India?
FM: ‘High’ness! you asked me to do so 2 weeks back.
PM: [looks upward]
[Background track: Tasbeeh phiri te dil na phirya]
PM: Is this real?
FM: No sir, it’s the matrix.
PM: And this all is illusion?
FM: Yes sir.
PM: Who are you?
FM: You.
PM: I am talking to myself.
FM: Yes.
PM: Am I talking and negating you.
FM: No, you.
PM: Are we still running the state?
FM: The state is running on its own. On its own people. Don’t ask.
PM: Then what I am here for.
FM: To speak. And to un-speak.
PM: To learn. And to un-learn.
FM: To become what one is capable of.
PM: To be the one.
FM: To be or not to be.
PM: Easy.
FM: What?
PM: Running the affairs.
FM: Yes sir.
PM: But who told you to open trade with India?
FM: Let’s go for Jumma.
PM: Jumma Mubarik.
FM: Let’s pray.
PM: And forget.