Rest in Peace Junaid Jamshed

He was forced to apologize because of his sermons.
He was forced to apologize because of his selfies.

Liberals were after him on why he left music, jeans, and the glamour world.
Conservatives were after him on why he shook hands with a model and why he took pictures with them.

This is typical of us Pakistanis. We don’t leave a moment of criticism on anyone even in their personal lives which has nothing to do with us.
(I wish we would have been that critical and cynical about our history, which we are always ready to brush under the carpet.)

We all ignored him when he was alive. We made fun of him. We ignored when he was attacked by Mullahs at an airport. We laughed with him and at him, but we didn’t cry with him.

Maybe it was better that Allah took him away from us filthy Pakistanis. And we were even denied of his last smile and funeral.

Junaid Jamshed was the biggest transformation of our times. He never failed except when we Pakistanis forced him to fail.

He was not a prophet. He was a man just like us, yet we wanted him to act sinless because of his beard. Or we wanted him to shave his beard and come back to music. Or we wanted him to shut his business and expensive brands. Or we were jealous of his success in every field. Or we don’t know what we wanted from him. Or maybe we should have minded our own business.

No sect and no social class in Pakistan allowed him to live in peace.

Surely now;
Rest in peace #JunaidJamshed
Rest in peace #PK661

Revolution vs. Evolution (PTI’s November 2 Dharna)

Khoon bhi na niklay or inqilaab bhi aa jaye.

Khoon bhi nikla or inqilaab bhi nahi aaya.

Some facts about revolutions:

1. A revolution is never bloodless. Evolution is bloodless.

2. If both the leaders of pro-revolution and anti-revolution ride the same vehicle, that isn’t revolution. (Helicopters in our case)

3. If team of the revolutionist is as shady as the team of ruler, that isn’t a revolution either.

4. If it is expected that police wouldn’t beat revolutionists, then it isn’t a revolution but a way to combat boredom perhaps.

5. If the army is expected to help the revolutionists instead of the government, perhaps another revolution is needed before this revolution.

No revolution in history sustained itself in the long run. The most famous one was “French Revolution” by Robespierre. Success followed by instant failure.

Another one, widely famous and copied, was by guerilla leader Che Guevara. It succeeded for a couple of years only.

Pakistan was made on evolution, with efforts of over half a century. Revolution was not adopted. Islam was spread through evolution, over 23 years.

When Jinnah lost the elections of 1935-36 by Nehru, he didn’t make a fuss. No dharna. He recollected himself. Took charge and made a national difference. He made new waves of ideology through consistent awareness methodologies. In the elections of 1945, he won decisively.

We put pictures of Jinnah almost everywhere. Most commonly, his picture is placed at the back of the sitting leader. So as to not follow him, and we don’t.

I am for evolution.
Not for blood. Not for corpses. Not for violence.
And not for revolution.

We… The Nationally Hypocrites

People are very angry at Kulbhushan Yadav. The same people were not that angry at Raymond Davis.

People are very angry that PM didn’t mention Kulbhushan Yadav. The same people were not very angry when Shuja Pasha himself escorted Raymond Davis.

People were very angry when India claimed surgical strike on Pakistan. The same people were not that angry when America did the world famous surgical strike near capital of Pakistan.

People get very angry when Indians kill our people. The same didn’t get that angry when Salala incident happened.

People want liberal rulers in the West, like Justin Trudeau. But the same people don’t want liberal rulers in their own country.

As I say, people love Arundhati Roy because she is an Indian and she talks against atrocities of India. The same people hate Asma Jahangir because she is Pakistani and she talks against atrocities of Pakistan.

We are hypocrites. We don’t accept it but we are. Some day hopefully we will accept our hypocrisies and that will be our first step towards real development.

The Case of Cyril Almeida

Miss Nasim Zehra is known for writing articles on corp commanders and military officials’ meetings. Once she wrote an article about the content of the meeting of corp commanders of Pakistan. The article was published in Reuters. There was no fuss about it.

What Cyril Almeida has done is not wrong. He got the content and he wrote it. That’s it. His article was ignored for two days. It didn’t become news until his name was put on ECL.

Pervez Musharraf was sent out of Pakistan through an inside job. No problem to anyone. He was dancing some days back. Raymond Davis was sent out of Pakistan with the help of Shuja Pasha.

What a shame!

Both army and government personnel who are being selfish here should be punished. Both are trying to get sympathy votes which doesn’t suit them. There was no need to make a fuss about this article. Those who read Cyril Almeida knows that he mostly writes the same way.

Shame on Chaudhary Nisar as he made it a big issue. Shame on those who put his name on ECL. Shame on those who brought it into the limelight.

Now coming to the content of the article. Well we all know that the article is completely based on facts. Both army and the government have their support for proxy outfits. LeJ, SSP, JD, JM, TTP, and some others are owned, protected, weaponized, and supported by people in Parliament, barracks, and agencies.

The best shot would have been to let it go. There was no need to make it such a big deal. There was no need to talk about it.

In my view, the difference of opinion between civil and military officials is GOOD. At least both are concerned about these banned outfits. Both are not ready to become scapegoats, which is fine. There can be a different strategy. For example the way Malik Ishaq was ‘done’ by Punjab Police.

Kashmir issue will remain hot till Kashmiris stand for it. Pakistan has done the job pretty well in this regard. China and many other nations have spoken for it. Washington Post has mentioned Indian atrocities. Now it is time for Kashmiris to stand for themselves. No nation has achieved independence through foreign help. You have to work for it and keep the passion burning. Unfortunately you don’t have Jinnah on your side, otherwise no foreign help would have been needed.

Truth & Lies


Lie another time

and again,

your lie will become the truth;

misshapen into grotesque images

of an alternate reality,

believed by some

and swallowed by all

as the lies you spin

spiral out of control

How long do

you think

this charade will last?

One day soon, the dominoes will fall

The threads that

hold your lies together











an unbridled ocean of


dissolving the concoction

of your woven deceit.

The control will shatter

and with it,

your mind

Your own tongue will

string together


to articulate the truth,

emerging from the grave,

rising from a coffin

the façade will be broken,

and it will be easy to see

beyond the smoke and mirrors.

You will burn in the


you kindled

dwelling there and

eating your own tail

forever and ever,

till you are charred

beyond recognition.

You will die

and live

a thousand times

till the trumpet sounds

for the final time.

And truth

shall prevail,

as it does.

In this world

and the next,

when all is said and done

truth will triumph,

for truth is God.

It may be obscured,

yet it cannot be



(Edited by: F.H.M)

Painting A Dream In A Nightmare…

He was different. But not a psycho.
He was quiet. But never abusive.
He was more responsible than the other men around.
He stood on his heels for four days straight for his first-born.
He spent every penny to make things better.
He changed himself however and whenever he could. But he wasn’t a Prophet.
He was a man.
He was a father.

Then came the day of accusations.
He was called every name in the book.
He was called mentally sick.
Lies were thrown at his face, but he didn’t deviate.

He took a stand that day. But he didn’t plan anything awful.
He took a stand because there are things you shouldn’t apologize for.

You should not apologize for taking a stand… for speaking the truth… for respecting yourself… and for ending a toxic relationship…

Even after that, he didn’t run away from his responsibility of fatherhood.
He begged. He ran to courts. He went to people.

He asked God.

Things became messier and messier.

Then one day, after 1.5 years, he saw his flesh and blood. It was an extraordinary reunion at court.

Things got better for awhile.
Then again a struggle started. A war of nerves. He was threatened to be killed again. The same things with which he was threatened during the relationship and after the relationship.

Somewhere a bullet may be waiting to be entered into his skull.

That doesn’t bother him; in this so-called life, he dies daily. Yet, he forces himself to live.

What he imagines is a future: a garden full of flowers where he is giggling and running with his daughter without any fear of the unknown.

I am Hussain too

Story of Hussain and Yazid is an inspiration. It is a story of incredible power. It gives me strength to stand again and again. Just when I am about to fall, to seize, and to fail, Hussain gives me new passion.
My story is a small one. It is not a story of a Hussain standing against a cruel ruler.
My story is of Hussain standing against no one but one being. For the sake of Allah. For the sake of a future. For the sake of a generation to come.
Just like Hussain, my story is not of revenge or punishment. My story is not of a war. My story is against my own self. To make me stand again. For “her”.
Hussain was in Karbala. I am in Karbala too.
Hussain was thirsty. I am thirsty too.
Hussain was for upcoming generations. I am too.
But Hussain was from Family of Prophet. I am just an ordinary follower with an ordinary creed.
But my struggle is extraordinary.
My pain is extraordinary.
My love is extraordinary.
I am Hussain. In a different age. In a different time. Against a different cruelty.


It doesn’t matter if you win or lose. It doesn’t matter if you achieve your goal or not. It doesn’t matter if you get the love of your life or not. These are the decisions of Allah.
What matters the most is “attendance”. I am a believer of attendance only.
Attendance in school.
Attendance in life.
Attendance in mosque.
Attendance in punishment.
Attendance in trial.
Attendance in court.
Our whole life is just an attendance. To be. To be present.
It hurts when we don’t win or when we lose the love of our life, but that is not in our hand. Only thing in our hand is to be present. The attendance.
Live your life. Love your life. But be present. Remember to have your attendances. You have at least one attendance each day. Some days have hard attendances and some have easier ones. Just be present and leave the results on the Almighty.
Or make so many attendances at His door that He let you “be” and in what you want to be.

An Extraordinary Love Story Demands An Extraordinary Sacrifice

An extraordinary love story has an extraordinary journey to travel. Only an ordinary love has an ordinary story.

He met the girl of his dreams and married her, is ordinary.

She loved her brother and lived in peace, is ordinary.

But the life of Wali was extraordinary. Just like his life, his love was extraordinary too. It wasn’t a love story like Shah Jahan and Mumtaz Mahal. That would be too mundane.

His story was not of an ordinary love where the two fall in love and marry, or they commit suicide, or one of them dies.


Wali’s story was of his love for his daughter. For whom he travelled the universe. For whom he passed 4,000 years of the human race just to be here today. Just to be here in the 21st century to meet his daughter.

But it was exceptional even after 4,000 years. He didn’t know there would be laws, courts, hate, contempt, fraud, cheating… He was in pursuit of his daughter only and on his way he realized the ingredients of love.

Normal people hide their love. Wali doesn’t. He shows it to the world because he cannot hide it. How can you hide your eyes? It is all in there.

People know Wali because of his love. Oh Wali! There is no hiding.

Wali has been cheated. The whole 21st century cheated on him. He, the Saladin of his times, has been cheated by his own people.

But Wali is on his way. Wali never gets tired. He resurrects every time he goes down. He was not meant to fail in his quest of love.

And Wali lives on.

His love lives forever.

His heart beats forever.

The tale has not ended.

It’s just the beginning.

And the tale of this love is extraordinary.

q teri cheezian urdu poetry

Lament for your sickness, and God won’t grant you death

It was a story about an old merchant, who lived a seemly and God-fearing life with his family, and went once with a comrade, a rich merchant, to the Makary.

Having stopped at an inn, the two merchants went to bed, and the next day the comrade was found murdered and robbed. The bloody knife was found under the old merchant’s pillow. The merchant was tried, punished with the knout, and, having had his nostrils slit, was sent to hard labor.

And so ten years or more go by after this affair. The old man lives at hard labor. Duly submits, does nothing bad. Only asks God for death. Good. And the convicts got together, a nightly thing, and the old man was with them. They started talking about who suffers for what, and what he’s guilty of before God. They began telling: this one killed a man, that one killed two, another set a fire, another was a runaway, so he did nothing. They started asking the old man: ‘What are you suffering for, grandpa?’ ‘I, my dear brothers,’ he says, ‘am suffering for my own and other people’s sins. I didn’t kill anybody, or take anything that wasn’t mine, but even gave to beggars. I, my dear brothers, was a merchant; I had great wealth.’ Thus and so, he says. That is, he told them how the whole thing went, in proper order. ‘I don’t grieve over myself,’ he says. ‘God, that is, has found me. I only pity my old woman and children.’ And so the old man wept. In their company there happened to be the very man who had killed the merchant. ‘Where did it happen, grandpa?’ he says. ‘When, in what month?’—he asked everything. His heart ached inside him. He goes up to the old man and—plop at his feet. ‘You’re perishing because of me, old man. It’s the real truth. This man is suffering, lads,’ he says, ‘guiltlessly and needlessly. I did that deed,’ he says, ‘and put the knife under your head while you slept. Forgive me, grandpa,’ he says, ‘for Christ’s sake.’”

And the old man says: ‘God will forgive you, and we’re all sinful before God, I’m suffering for my own sins.’ And he wept bitter tears. And what do you think, little falcon? This same murderer denounced himself to the authorities. ‘I killed six men,’ he says (he was a great villain), ‘but I’m sorriest for this old man. Let him not lament on account of me.’ He declared it: they wrote it down, duly sent a letter. This was a far-off place, it was a while before everything got done, all the papers filled out as they ought, to the authorities, that is. It went all the way to the Tsar. Time passed, the Tsar’s ukase came: release the merchant, give him a reward, as much as they decided. The paper came, they started searching for the old man. Where’s that old man who has suffered guiltlessly and needlessly? A paper has come from the Tsar. They started searching. But God had already forgiven him—he was dead.

(War & Peace – Leo Tolstoy – Page 1062)