The Insignificant Other

چن  کِتھاں  گُزاری آئی رات  وے

مینڈھا  جی  دلیلاں  دے  وات  وے

Dearest! where did you spend the night?

My heart may need proofs to calm down.

Every rendition of this couplet is sad because the meaning is sad and the whole scenario is as dark as the night when reasoning is trying to hurt. But it’s too old and outdated. The world doesn’t work this way anymore.

Modern world is of IT, Google, and online profiles on different platforms of every other person. Close Interactions started from MSN messengers to poking on Orkut and went ahead to chatrooms to one-on-one chats to Skype videocalls to today where run-time locations are known. What can you do if the insignificant other is insignificant not just metaphorically?

Modern world has modern problems too. Digital blackmailing. Actual or edited pictures and videos. The mistake, which never felt like a mistake, becomes a life threat. A picture or a video can become a scandal and then you are needed to accept it and heal the insignificant other. Neither you committed the mistake, nor you had the fun, yet you have to carry the baggage. It’s a modern world of enlightenment and evolution and you need to have an open skull.

In old times, an ex would have been an ex. A mistake would have been a mistake. Past would have been a forgotten past.

Today, an ex is a connected ex on social media. A mistake is not a mistake but a surprise to cherish. Past is revived whenever a chance is there.

More exes. More connections. More chances. More fun. Sometimes, there are two exes in a single location. Cousins, close neighborhoods, and joint-family system stuff.

And more rendezvous. Which are not rendezvous but carefully crafted plans where you are left out strategically. You don’t know that. You may never know. You may remain stupid who cannot connect the dots – like stars in a dark night.

Now the final point: What if you know?

Nothing changes. Misery may enhance. Your curse to fate and destination may get abusive. Your anger and frustration may hurt yourself. And… nothing else. It is all part of fate which is planned, and you are just left out. Sometimes, you may get to know things directly from the insignificant other when threat looms; like digital blackmailing or surfacing of an archived picture or something. Then you are needed to carry the luggage and deliver it safely with honor, because it is the honor at stake. Apparently. Ironically, the honor never even existed; only you were unaware.


Just when you were running domestic errands, the insignificant other may have been in another world, igniting the passion of past. Because you are too boring like an old salad and everyone deserves a different platter occasionally. Right? Absolutely.

Truthfully writing, there is no significant other. It’s an illusion of an idea that hides, cheats, and creates an impression of a perfect being. This idea failed right on its inception. You are your own castle to stand and to defend. You are your own honor. Your honor!

P.S. just in case, the ‘Insignificant Other’ is you.

Thank you!

Rats in Floods

Ugly ducklings. Every politician is being a criminal here. Or a traitor. Whatever!

Shaukat Tarin is a new rat. We know that. This rhymed.

IK is playing the politics of jalsas even now. But he makes sure that the ramps are flooded so when he walks, a scene is there for the crowd to cherish and moan. Confused. No donations for floods. Pressurized. Telethon for floods. No trust on government machinery, even though he leads half the machinery. Yet, no. Thieves!

SS in federal is nothing more than a juggler. He knows the fault lines in NDMA but can’t say or do anything. Because NDMA was not much civil a while back. Ironically, nothing is civil. Everything is uniformed. He has all the time for bad decisions. Just messed with the electricity bills and soon he will sign petrol hike.

Then came NS and made a mockery of his own party by getting angry on his own party for the sake of his own party. Flush that!

And then there was a Talpur of PPP who was showering Rs.50 notes on flood victims. Must be feeling giant of himself. A way to heaven, perhaps.

Every scene is nothing short of a mujra here.

The singer was in trouble in Balochistan. Military went right on time. That was one of the best marketing opportunities in floods so far. Cashed nicely. But when the brothers drowned after waiting for hours, nothing mattered. Aleema was rescued but not the unknown poor souls who were floating here and there.

People are like that. Mess your maid. Abuse her all day. Keep on insulting her. Shout. And then give her a good meal at night. Makes you feel “Oh! How good I am. Better than all others. People don’t even give food. Thank God!”

This is the philosophy of illusioned heaven. Like Malik Riaz do. He keeps his langar-khanas open and provide meals to hospitals from all the money he has gathered from sweat and blood of the same hungry souls who are being fed.

Even normal humans – not normal though – are on way to make some bucks. Charities are in movement. Funds will be gathered. Cuts will be taken. After earthquake of 2005, people used to fill trucks for victims, and later-on, luggage was dumped, and cash was distributed. It was all business then. It is all business now. Not all though. Just like not all men…

Everyone is a rat in his/her own capacity.

Every single one, in power and influence, is sniffing like rats. And rats do come out when there’s flood. Or they run and leave when the ship is sinking.

The other day, elders were having a discussion. Everyone had a side to defend and a side to criticize. PMLN did that. PPP did that. PTI did that. This should be done. Blah blah. Ah!

All His Highness said was “No. I don’t believe in charities. And I don’t have money. Lose-Lose. So, firstly, the one who has opened the tap of floods, should close the tap. Secondly, the one who has given the life to victims, should intervene and save. Thirdly, those who are bestowed with power over victims, should come and help. Lastly, how much we can defend? The other day, religion was in danger, and we were supposed to defend the religion too.”

The discussion ended. On a bad note. With a new topic with one victim: His Highness. Never mind. At least they ended up in unity.

Ironically, the only rat left in the room was His Highness.

Bi-ironically, this post was supposed to be of two lines, till it rhymed.


When you get to know that the previous tragedy was way better than this current one, then you realize… you realize that… nothing. Nothing matters. Except tragedies.

There should be music. And dance. Yes, in tragedies.

Feeling nostalgic about the ex-tragedy is a tragedy in itself.

By the way, what’s not tragedy? You are a tragedy. Existence is a tragedy. Death is a tragedy too. That’s hypocrisy? And hypocrisy is a tragedy as well.

That’s all so tragic. Over and out!