Walli – Introducing John Doe

He’s John Doe.

Those who love John, love John.

Those who hate him, hate him.

Nothing can change this, except a rare epiphany that strikes in some minds that’s not even an epiphany but a junk spark.

Those who loved John, loved Jane too. His wife.

But when Jane took divorce, the lovers turned into haters.

Interestingly, the haters started to love Jane afterwards.

Are you getting it? It’s all about the topic of your interest. Or disinterest with interest. Right now, the topic is John.

Those, who love John, see their algorithm altered according to their love for John. They see more loving videos. More loving content. Everywhere. With music. With a little eroticism and goosebumps.

Similarly, the haters see their algorithm altered otherwise. They see more hating videos and more hating content all over their social media. With music. Less eroticism and no goosebumps at all.

Hence, love is being intensified as much as hate is being intensified. The two poles are poling apart. Further and further. The differences are becoming wider. Disagreements will turn into hate. And hate will turn into abuse. Then violence. Then another religion. Another sect. another nation. Another demand for another separate land in the name of freedom that will gag the residents sooner than they think.

The crux is: no one is ready to think otherwise. No one is ready to look beyond the newsfeed. No one is ready to view the alternate version. Everyone is becoming more intensified version of him/herself.

John can be anyone. Or anything. John can be a politician. A celebrity. A sports star. A speaker. A model. A religious podcaster. John can be your religion. Your patriotism. Your nationality. Your pain. Your misery. Your anything of any interest available in public domain.

Who is your God? Have you ever looked for other Gods? Shook hands with them? Had a tête-à-tête. Or a rendezvous? Random meetup in a mosque or a church? A temple or a tomb?

What is your religion? Ever dared to read some other religions? The similarities? What religion introduced all the major concepts of Abrahamic religions? Any coincidence? Any question? Any if and but you get in your brain that shivers your backbone?

What has your politician done? How is s/he so different? How is s/he so great? How did you become a blind follower of love or hate? Weren’t the greatest ones in the past known for the biggest blunders too? Those greatest ones died too early and couldn’t see what the aftereffects did to the generations to come.

Your piece of land, your country; any different than the rest? What’s so special about it, apart from you being born here? A random X and Y mess.

Your cyst. Your cancer. Your disability. Your inconsistent heartbeats. Are those specially yours too? Patriotically loved and owned?  

Your race. Your color. Your identity. You know you are the superior and chosen one. Yet, you also know deep down that you are the same decaying organic matter, and you were never superior. In fact, you were the child of a less god. You finally know.

Empathy.

Look on the other side. Travel the bridge. Or make one. See for yourself. See the one you hate. Talk to the other god. Sit in the strange temple. Listen to the liturgical music of Church. Listen to the ones you hate. Read the ones who are banned.

Billions came and billions went without an impact on this minor second of history of our interstellar. What matters is: NOTHING.

Walli have prayed a million times. To be rejected a million times. Of course, for his own good.

I object.

He travelled to that anciently modern city of underground railways and saw her and looked for her. And found her. She turned. She looked back. Just when he thought a million-and-one prayers have been heard after a million rejections, she talked back.

She turned and disowned. She told him that he doesn’t exist. He doesn’t matter.

Now tell me honestly, does that matter?

Absolutely NOT.

I object.

And he wished for one last wish so he may burn this whole interstellar into ashes for the history of NONE.

Who Exposed Them?

“Who exposed them?” asks another one. Then another one. Then another one.

And they all want to hear one name in answer. So that they can awe for long and sleep for another decade.

Only those who never read history and had a short-term memory were inspired by this neo-exposition done indirectly for vested interests. They conveniently ignore that man in question still wants the lap to be offered, only lap is offended and old friends in uniform are retired. And new generals have new friends to serve them.

Anyway, let’s settle this one last time.

Hundreds and thousands of books exposed them.

Jaffrelot, Walsh, Talbot, and so many others exposed them.

Jinnah himself exposed them in his last days.

Jalib and Faiz exposed them with poetry and couplets.

Ayesha Siddiqua exposed them with numbers, data, and graphs.

Tariq Ali exposed them with historical events.

Asma Jahangir exposed them for years and was abused by the same lot.

Muhammad Hanif exposed them with fiction based on true events.

Cyril had exposed them with sarcasm every other week.

People like Absar, Toor, and Ayaz exposed them in their voices without fear.

Maulvi Tamizuddin exposed them long ago in the court of law.

The Students’ Unions that ended in fall of Ayub exposed them in East and West.

Fall of Dhaka exposed them.

Bhutto, Benazir, Nawaz, Fazlur Rehman, and others exposed them from time to time for vested interests.

Bacha Khan exposed them.

Manzoor Pashteen exposed them.

Hundreds of women from Balochistan exposed them.

Yet, you just want to hear one name.

And I feel very sorry for that. For you.

Hence, You!

One wrong person can mess your whole life. True.

But to reach the right person, you must pass through a couple of wrong persons. Else you will never realize happiness without sorrows.

Just like the prerequisite of divorce is: marriage. I know. Deviation. It’s an art and it’s not always out of the context.

Anyway. Back to that person.

So, you may find the right person but s/he may not be in a position to claim the same.

Your right. Yet not vice versa. Zero sum.

Then you see your wrong one matching perfectly with someone else. Syncing. Algorithm.

Just like your worst enemy is someone’s best friend. And your best friend is someone’s foe.

Tell her to go! Deviation! Leave!

Perhaps, it’s after the existential crisis itself that tells you the crux of the whole journey. And the crux is: it was you.

You were the wrong person all along. The entire dot in your universe was you.

You.

Hence, you.

They Drive, They Kill, They Fly

Gandhi said, “poverty is the worst form of violence.”

This could have been one of the finest sayings of all times, but we don’t ponder over it because poverty doesn’t concern us. Or at least that poverty which we see in heartbreaking reels and pictures and in faraway lands to shed some crocodile tears. Some tears. A sigh. And swipe to the next content of vulgarity.

That was violence you just didn’t recognize. And violence breeds violence.

With the global debacle of human race, we are reaching new lows here in Pakistan. The new trend is rich killing poor or middle-class commuters here and there. Mostly in elite areas of cities like Karachi, Lahore, and Islamabad; but nonetheless, everywhere.

The rich usually have vehicles that are more expensive than the house value of the poor or the middleclass they just rammed under their vehicle – if they are not living on rent. A 5-marla house in Lahore would be less than Rs.2 crore. Cost of Land Cruiser would be… leave it. 5-marla house would sound too cheap.

Imagine this difference. Imagine this difference ramming over you. Crushing your bones and soul under the tyres which are more expensive than your bike. Or whatever.

Post-incident SOPs are exactly the same. Play with the usual games of mental instability, drugs, etc. Take police into confidence and manage to file an FIR full-of-errors, missing key penal codes. Get a loudmouth lawyer with zero conscientiousness – easiest part. Keep an eye on media but ignore it all the way. Get a bail. And get the killer fly out of the country.

Simple. With a middle finger to people.

Now wait for another similar incident being played on the face of the poor of this country in 3, 2, 1…

It may have been one dead or two, but a whole family dies with one death in the family. The leftover souls and bodies of that home would grieve for months and years to come. They would always be living in if and what-if and why.

Now the final part. The dead is dead. Or the dead are dead. It’s same as singular and plural just like its ‘poor’ both ways and not ‘poors’ because you really don’t matter. Until you resist strongly and consistently so much so to make them notice you. Only after that laws of the jungle shall change.

If not even in that case, then you always have the option to burn the citadel down.

Or you can ignore all this and keep on lifting the dead bodies one after another. Doesn’t matter.

Some Condolences

Somehow, justice has prevailed. Not because it is what I wanted it to be, but because it should have been this. Credit goes to judges like Mansoor Ali Shah and Athar Minallah, who led from the front.

Qazi Faez remained shameful, badly compromised, and too tainted to be spoken of.

Apart from some judges and courts – like Babar Sattar and the Islamabad High Court – the country is completely gagged. The current Martial Law has transformed itself into one of the ugliest periods in Pakistan’s history. While the puppets in parliament can be blamed for this and that, it is Rawalpindi that runs the show.

You may have enjoyed 1984 but I’m sure you cannot enjoy 2024.

We are living in an inferno. We are in mayhem at both micro and macro levels.

A pregnant woman named Sania Zehra was tortured and beaten to death by her husband. After killing her, he hanged her to make it look like a suicide case. This is a micro example: events happening at the domestic level, at home. Just like how seven children are abused daily in this country. In domestic settings. In holy carpets.

At the macro level, blood is spilled publicly, so all may know that you can be killed if you speak out. You may not speak because you might be killed. You may die in an accident so the state may survive over blood and bodies. Recent example: Gilaman Wazir.

Honestly, I didn’t know him. Never heard of him when he was alive. Received messages and comments to write about him and how I should be ashamed for missing this.

Well, not ashamed.

The state has been killing people in Balochistan and KP and in the entire western belt of Pakistan since the beginning. Jinnah himself let down the government of KP, initiating a debacle of the political decorum in the province that was actually ahead of the rest at that time. But no. A Governor General wanted to govern like a general. And since then, the blood of the western belt has been cheaper than the rest.

Another student is killed.

Another professor is killed.

Another journalist is killed.

Another voice is killed.

Another poet is killed too. So?

Nothing is going to change except you getting the lesson very clearly with your ears and arse open that you cannot ask for your rights and you cannot shout.

Sit down in your sit-ins and moan for days and nights how badly you have been fucked by the state.

You are a replica of the state. The state robs you; you rob those you can. It’s mostly this hierarchy – just like that hierarchy of bastards of bureaucrats.

I’m so sorry to hear the news. Condolences. Condemned. Again condemned.

And adjourned.

Please bring the next dead body so I may offer more. No!

I’m not a journalist. I don’t follow news to inform you people. Lately, I’m not even reading Dawn regularly and Twitter is down. Stop expecting “news” here. Follow news pages, read newspapers, and watch news channels. This is this: where words fall the way, they want to fall, against gravity.

X, Y, Z, and L

X came to power and imposed taxes on salaried / middle class to increase the revenue base of the state.

X was thrown out and then came Y. Y tightened the screws even further, making X an angel.

Then came Z. Z imposed further taxes on the same middle class to take out as much for the state so that the elite capture can be captured further strongly.

Now, X was selected again with the assumption that he will start from where Z left. And he is doing exactly that.

All of them didn’t impose taxes on real estate, retail sector, or other markets. They showed intent for the sake of news and drama. They even imposed some minor taxes too to make a point. But then, only middle / salaried class was taken to the gallows.

After all these dramatics, they have subsidies worth over $17 billion. That’s around Rs.5,000 billion. That’s what they take through cabinet approvals. Billions and billions, lands and lands. They throw out the farmers, but they do care for the sugar mafia. Remember?

Why do you take sides then?

Some of you raise slogans of X. Some for Y. And some are ready to die for Z. This division is even more suitable for the real powers. Let’s call them L. L actually rules. This land. These pawns. These judges. This entire system.

Yet, you are too focused on X, Y, and Z that you don’t feel L who is standing right behind you. Harassingly close. Yet, you don’t even feel harassed. In fact, you get goosebumps with pride. At times. And that’s where this whole comedy turns real dark.

Old Man Prays

He believed he was old enough to suffer anything more. He was too old for any new pain. His legs couldn’t bear his weight, how could he bear a new pain?

He was sure about God letting him go now because he prayed for the release too hard.

But things don’t happen that way. Neither God is free enough nor does He indulge Himself in human affairs that much.

Sometimes, God goes on a leave from earth for centuries. The last time He was here was when 2nd World War ended after millions of deaths, rapes, and murders.

The old man faced more pains. He suffered for years in pain. Both spiritual and physical. And then he died of pain. His whole existence was defined by pain. And misery because it sustained for too long to be neglected by another bad word.

Before his last breadth, he had an epiphany. A blasphemous truth. After wasting his whole life in pain, he finally found the truth. As Shaw said, all great truths begin as blasphemies. But it was too late for the beginning as he himself was ending. Miserable.

So how does God work?

This question is unanswered. It will remain unanswered.

After thousands of years, both God and humans are unable to maintain a good relationship with each other. Both are at war against each other. But it is like a war of pawns against a King where pawns are brutally punished, and the King remains King forever.

Again, how does it work then?

It works in an unusual way. Live your life. Enjoy it the way you want; without hurting others. Fight your own battles yourself. Focus more on practical things rather than dua and prayers. Stop wasting your time on prayers if you cannot do anything practically. Work hard and hope for the best.

I know. Sometimes, you lay low. Or turn a side in bed. To think about your miseries and mishaps. And then you shed tears. On your own fate. And failures. And how brutally life turned out to be against you. Well, those are crocodile tears. You are your own misery. You did nothing. You just let anyone to walk over you over and over again.

Don’t be your own misery. Don’t pray when you cannot walk what you prayed for. Or, when you are done with your favorite sins, then ask for forgiveness. That’s somewhat sensible. That’s the best way as religions work that way too. Do and then ask for forgiveness.

Also remember, you are after all a human. Sins define you as much as virtue. You are not an angel. You are not a spirit. Or a robot. You are God. You a miscalculated algorithm of neurons who will sin. Shall sin. Must sin. “Father! I have sinned.”

Maintain your relationship with God when you are done with life. At least, give it a meaning. How can you manage a relationship with God when you had no experience of having a relationship with a person. With parents. With people. With friends. And that someone special. The one you want to touch – sin. The one you want to hug – sin. The won you want to kiss – sin. The one you want to drink with between the sheets for the hungover morning – sins.

Only then you will be ready for the ultimate relationship with the God. Who has made you in flesh. And blood. If. He has.

This is how it works. And it works ONLY this way.

Your life is your life. Your problems are your problems. Your pain is your pain. Your battle is your battle. Walk yourself. Fight yourself. Pray if you want to but prayers alone do nothing. The world doesn’t work that way. Some can kill thousands of children and women and can bomb the hospitals and can close their food rations for months and months… and nothing changes with 2 billion prayers. Are you getting the point?

The Curious Case of ‘Evidence’ in Pakistan

Rape: Four witnesses. Or a video in good print. DNA test is a big no.

Forced Conversion: A video message at gun point to dismiss the case instantly.

Murder: First of all, a dead body. Then it depends on the murderer. 444 can’t convict. 1 can.

Treason: A tweet would be enough.

Blasphemy: A blame would be more than enough.

Abduction: Can’t be proved until the abducted person comes forward himself. But then, he/she isn’t abducted.

Honor killing: A dead body. Followed by a long trial to acquittal for all. After all, it’s a family matter.

Harassment: Ah! Tricky slope of sin. It happens. And it never happens. No evidence is enough. Yet, a blame is enough.

Drugs: No urine test. No blood test. Nothing for evidence. Depends on who is not in power.

Fraud: Cannot be proved. Even banks don’t know who transferred the money to whom and where through bank accounts.

Theft: Clear CCTV footage where a burglar shows his CNIC. Otherwise, a future encounter will close the case.

Virginity: Two finger-test. It can escalate. In case… consent.

Civil rights: A mutilated dead body would be needed.

Mass murders: More than one mutilated dead bodies would be needed.

State violence: Instantly proved. Instantly dismissed. Instant transfers. Instantly forgotten.

Corruption: A jigsaw puzzle where rules and laws are presented but then there are countering rules and laws. Can never be proved. Bureaucracy on both sides.

Civil disobedience: To be a civilian is civil disobedience in itself.

And the list can go on.

9th May – The First Anniversary

Jinnah remained homeless in the city. The city, which gave home to everyone in history, was unable to provide shelter to the father of the nation.

But history didn’t stop even after his death. Lahore kept on finding a suitable home for the very suitable Jinnah.

On the auspicious day of May 9th, 2023; hundreds of archaeologists of Lahore went out of their homes. Crossed every hurdle. Even the defense of the defenseless. And they finally found one in a mansion hidden from the eyes of civilian beholders.

After 75 years to his death, Jinnah found a home. Not just a home but his home. He had a home. The sacrifice of archeologists in this regard is yet to be written in the books of history.

And His Highness would be remembered to be the first one to pen words on the sacrifice of those who unfolded new pages of the history of Lahore. And Jinnah.

The first anniversary should not forget the unsung archaeologists. The others, may remember it as an Urs.

P.S. The difference between 2 May and 9 May is of 7 days and 13 years. Nothing else. With that, condemnable-good-mourning!

Dil Se… (1998)

Entire Bollywood on one side, and Dil Se would stand taller on the other side. The story, dialogues, frustration, love, music, songs, and everything is remarkable.

All India Radio. What if we change it with Radio Pakistan? How relatable it can be?

Imagine going to Balochistan or western belt of KP or any other periphery of Pakistan and you may find things that are not as they are shown on the mainstream media. The truth may take 180-degree turn during your journey. That’s how significant that movie was. Yet, underrated and only known for its music by A. R. Rahman.

The tiny details in the movie were astounding. Like the seven stages of love in Satrangi Re: hub (attraction), uns (infatuation), ishq (love), aqidat (trust / reverence), ibadat (worship), junoon (madness), and maut (death). The movie categorically covered all these seven stages beyond that song.

What if there is an entire narrative of nationalism, security, patriotism, and religion? And then, what if there is a stronger counter-narrative: of love?

The frustration of love – a prerequisite – was there. Just when it looked that love was going to walk its due course, the surroundings changed so significantly that it became impossible to live or love. After all, only unfulfilled love stories are remembered as ‘love stories’ worth narrating. Because afterwards, is just a disaster.

Another movie of this genre is ‘The Last Sumari” of Tom Cruise. The music was equally good by Hans Zimmer. When the protagonist was captured by the ‘savages’ in the movie, he not only saw the truth, but he became part of the truth. Fell in love. Rose as a new warrior. From fighting on one side of the battle, he chose the other side and fought for the truth and honor rather than national duty.

Watch Dil Se… for once. And watch it with a wide spectrum so you may connect the dots in your own national and security settings.