Local Dramas & Our Script Writers

What can you watch on TV while having dinner or breakfast? Morning shows? Dramas and soap operas? News? I prefer BBC or Aljazeera. Or Animal Planet. But what actually do we have locally?

I had an opportunity to witness the disaster for quite some days.

While the world is in the 21st century, we are at least a century back. That too in Hijri calendar.

Our dramas and films have only a couple of scripts which are telecasted again and again and again. And you enjoy them every single time with a different taste.

Because there is no learning and no burden on mind. Nothing is like Interstellar, Inception, Fight Club, Lunch Box, etc. where you have to go deep and think to get the story.

Anyway.

Let’s look at ALL the scripts we have.

Script 1:

Love triangle. A confused person, a pakeeza woman and an evil one. The guy will roam from one post to another and in the end will settle with the pakeeza one. The pakeeza one has a very specific role. She will be crying all the time; miserable. If married, she would rather die than be divorced. She will suffer and accept every misery thrown by the pathetic writer. In the end, she will have happiness. Sabr ka phal kinda stuff.

Script 2:

Rich, elite and gentry. The guy, highly successful without any apparent reason, is ready for marriage. He wants to marry A. Parents want to get him married to B. Both A and B are equally shy, good looking, fair and pakeeza. The story will again be of football moving from one post to another until it settles. It is to note that the rich guy is liberal but not liberal. He is conservative but not conservative. He is confused but not confused. Just like he is ultra-rich and we don’t know why. The writer is definitely an arse.

Script 3:

If there is one male protagonist – slim, fair and handsome – then all the female cast will be in love with him. If there is a female protagonist – slim, fair and handsome – then all the male cast will be in love with her. As simple as that. In the end, one wins the trophy based on a knee-jerk script.

Script 4:

Divorce. A woman – divorced or soon-to-be-divorced – will be seen roaming on the roads and in parks and offices. She will suffer, cry and panic. She will lose all her charm and beauty that she had in the beginning of the drama. She will suffer till another guy will come and rescue her. Superman. That superman – slim, fair and handsome – will in the end marry her or will become a very close friend. Close does not mean friends with benefits. But sometimes, the drama hints that way. The message will be clear that women should never get divorced and men shouldn’t worry in any case.

Script 5:

A bad man transforming into a good man through love or religion or both over the series. He can be a murderer or a harasser or a criminal in the beginning of the serial. In the end he will be transformed 180 degrees. The audience will fall in love with him. And if the girl will reject him in the end, she will be a bad woman nonetheless. This script is widely accepted in Pakistan since the 1970s. Ashfaq Ahmad made such dramas. This idea is so worshipped by the country that even the Prime Minister promotes himself along the same lines.

Script 6:

Bad elderly women – phuphos, mamis and saas – throwing tantrums and creating scenes around the script. Blackmailing men. In the end, they all – or at least the major ones – transform and drama ends with all the other above mentioned endings. In the same drama, some good elderly women will be seeing crying all the time.

Script 7:

Sex. This one is part of almost every other script. Even the expressions are horny and lusty in cases. Sometimes incestuous stuff is shown consistently. And the whole drama has this one aspect not for a message or critic or to educate the society; but for sole purpose of rating. Sex sells. Though we don’t accept but yes, it sells here. In morning shows, in news and in dramas.

Script 8 and random:

Love stories of crying. One partner crying and crying and crying till the end of drama. Umera Ahmed stuff.

Misogynist plays with men-in-charge of everything except their emotions.

Property issues. Where the whole cast is trying to snatch a fortune. The one who is not trying, get the fortune in the end,

Nationalism and establishment stuff. Some stuff to keep your goosebums alive. I wrote goosebums. Whatever.

Religion. Whenever a drama is unable to get a grip on the script, religion happens. Miracles. Sufism.

And that’s all.

There may be some scripts – like Indian-copied horror stories – with women as snakes and men as magicians-cum-perverts. Horror story is also based on sex. Nothing else.

There can be some dramas on street life or college life but the script remains intact. Love triangle and misery and tears.

In the end, every single story is the same. Same dilemmas. Same climaxes. Same endings. Everyone is having parties and divorces and properties and extra-marital diggings and stuff. Then another drama. Then another.

I don’t mind parties. Or properties. Or divorces. Or diggings. But that’s not all. And it is not entertainment when it is bogus. Aren’t you tired of these Bermuda-triangles of love, hate and loathing?

If you will dig deep – I mean scripts – every single drama is about sex. This way or that way, it is about sex and unhappiness.

There is no philosophy or intellect involved.

There is no discussion of actual problems.

There is no drama on extremism, intolerance, politics, or even culture and social norms.

There is no drama on real heroes. Nothing historical.

There is no criticism on the prevailing issues, let alone constructive criticism.

Moving forward to awards. The same writers and directors and producers are going to be awarded for showing the exact same stuff again and again. Nothing creative, intellectual or critical wins awards. Followed by speeches of big words.

I don’t know why only Khalil-ur-Rehman Qamar is (in)famous. All the writers are doing the same ugly job. Maybe he is a loud-mouth ambassador of the rotten society. And his tone and egoist arrogance. The thing is he is loved. He banging every other journalist with harsh words because he is expected to do that. He does. What else he has? Pathetic scripts and stories.

Maybe the time of intellectualism is over.

Gone are the days of good music. All we have are remixes now. Major hits of Velo Sound Station were remixes. No new good poetry. No new good books. Everything has been sung and written already.

Devolution?

Sometimes I wish they would copy stuff. Make a movie on “The Count of Monte Cristo”. Or copy the content of Rang De Basanti or Swades or Pk. Or make a drama like Bourne, where one of our own Jason Bourne goes rogue. Would be fun.

But we have poor writers who sell patriotism, religion, blasphemy, nationalism, martyrdom, and stuff. They have nothing else to offer. Such content gives them money, cheap fame, and ratings; without an iota of intellect.

Like our morning shows, our dramas are flimsy and lack substance.

Our news – where actual issues are hushed and no one talks about missing people, mutilated dead bodies, dissent, uniformed corruption, etc. – is all about parliamentarians fighting and offering nothing.

Switch off your TV. For news, follow twitter. For entertainment, get Netflix or use other means. Locally, you have nothing but repetitive, mind-numbingly boring and mediocre scrap.

Blasphemy & Aurat March

Hence blasphemy. When there is nothing left, there is blasphemy. Always. You can play a little trick and then mock and kill anyone. Mob justice prevails too in certain cases.

But connecting the two – #AuratMarch and Blasphemy – is actually herd-creativity at its best. Low though. But sure.

First of all, ladies, you should be thankful. You are getting unpaid promotion and marketing – on a vast level – for the march; even after the march.

A guy tweeted that men who think Aurat March is against them, is actually against them. True.

What is wrong in the march by the way? It’s a gathering of women in public with a charter and some activities. Why is it so threatening?

Have you even read the charter? Not a single point is wrong or controversial. And even then, you have your right to disagree.

There were banners which were irrelevant and funny. Some were wrong too. So?

“Not all banners.”

“It’s just 1%.”

Women were dancing. There was naach gana. So? Men are fond of naach gana and mujra in our part of the world. They shower money and stuff. But when women were dancing just for themselves and enjoying themselves, they couldn’t bear it. That’s actually being a hypocrite loser.

Women were promoting homosexuality. Well, there are two aspects. If someone was supporting the idea through religion, that is wrong because religion is already defined. Otherwise, it is actually a human trait and a debatable topic. You need to differentiate between the two.

Transgender? To be very honest, we don’t have any space for transgenders anywhere. Not in our laws. Not in our society. Not in our religion. Religion is actually silent on their way of life, marriage, sex, etc. So, there is this forum which publicly talks about transgenders in daylight. Absolutely fine. Commendable, in fact.

Banners? Some were rebuttals. Some were mocking. Some were funny. And some were sharper than a knife. Women from different backgrounds came with different banners. Disagree where you may. But you cannot stop or silence them as there was nothing intimidating, violent, or gory.

French flag? Well, that was not French. Not even close. Have some sense. If stripes would have been horizontal, it could have been an Indian flag! Right? Not all… but all dumb.

Orya and Ansar and stuff? You are twisting and actually replacing words just to impose blasphemy. I don’t know why these men here have a fetish of blasphemy. Even when there is no blasphemy, they try to insinuate there is. They make sure to make everything blasphemous. Mocking their own beliefs and religion, yet staying religious at the same time.

I loved that:

Mullah bhi sunn lay, azadi
Ansar bhi sunn lay, azad
Orya bhi sunn lay, azadi

But blasphemy. Imposed and forged one. Hence. How many lives have to be destroyed with this card? Why is there no counter argument to argument?

And even while imposing blasphemy, you are using utterly disgraceful words. One tweet is quoting Quran, and very next one is with the ugliest words against women. How do you even write the two together? Isn’t this blasphemy?

Why don’t you see blasphemy when kids are raped inside and outside madrassahs?

Why don’t you see blasphemy when underage girls are married to elderly men or to the Quran? Or when girls are converted by force?

Why don’t you see blasphemy when children are raped and murdered and dumped? Can you tell me the number of such incidents on 8th March? No. Because you were focusing on where you were not invited.

Why don’t you see blasphemy when every single drama ridicules the norms of the society and specifically targets one gender to be miserable, pathetic, and succumbing to unseen threats of abuse?

By the way, there are some women to blame too. There were women in the Aurat March who were loudly shouting slogans, but these are the same women who play the miserably pathetic characters in TV dramas and soap operas. This is hypocrisy as well. When you are being paid, you go for any character that demeans and insults your own gender. And the next day, you are out with exactly the opposite narrative. Wrong. You don’t sell out for anything when you are fighting a war.

So, ladies, ignore and stand corrected. This year was better. The banners and placards were better. There was less controversial stuff this year; until the herd forged things to impose blasphemy.

This blasphemy is an industry. Like war. People have made fortunes on it. It works as bribery and is an ultimate kit to kill anyone, anywhere. Now it’s after the whole gender who came out for a day in a year. Make it semi-annually. Then quarterly. Then monthly.

There is an existential crises since the beginning. Men of this part of the world have to realize yet that women exist. And breathe. And have needs.

Women exist. Blasphemy doesn’t.

Guys, have some sense and some self-respect. Nothing of yours has been challenged except your trespassing. Nothing is being taken away from you except what wasn’t yours. Have a better focus. Make the kids safe. Make underage women safe. Make trans community safe. Make better laws for people. End the laws of wanni and karo kari. End honor killings. End forced marriages. End this denial of ‘all is good.’ Because nothing is.

End this hypocrisy.

And disagree where you may.

Not in the mood to jump into labyrinths of topics in a single post. But will surely come back and will spake like Zarathustra.

Azadi!

Where is Honor?

Is it on the honorable seat of the honorable judge where they sell justice?

Is it beneath the table of clerks who take bribe before doing legal work of poor citizens?

Is it in the barracks where soldiers plan to takeover the country rather than to serve it?

Is it in the national anthem which is written in foreign language and hardly understood by few?

Is it in the national assembly where the most corrupt is feared the most?

Is it in hotels where men pay for sex so as to tell their friends how vulgar the society is?

Is it in the schools where students pay more fees than the income of their parents?

Is it in the mosque where sermons of violence and murder are given?

NO.

Honor is only and only between the legs… that too of a woman alone.

The Conversation

Why not is the answer to every single why.

Why not?

It was cold, dark, somewhat secluded and odd too. And they chose to meet.

Yes, Why not?

She was seeking a voice. He was seeking some validation. Or vice versa. On the outside, she was an independent woman with a job, a home, kids and opinions. And he looked like a complete guy. A guy with everything that is needed to blow people’s minds. So, both of them decided to take a walk in a track of a cold, dark, somewhat secluded park.

She was not one for small talk. She asked him, “What is happiness?”

He was not easily surprised. “That question remained unanswered by Socrates. How can I know?” He asked back.

“But what is happiness to you?”

“Nothing. There is peace of mind, sometimes. But there is no happiness. An illusion perhaps. I don’t know. Although, I am happy now. Walking here randomly. Without a purpose. And answering without thinking. Don’t know!”

“Not worth thinking about, then?”

“Nothing is. I don’t know”, he responded again, stepping ahead of her, like they weren’t even walking together.

She began again, “I have seen happy people and happy couples in particular. I have seen them being truly happy.”

“Illusion, my friend. There is no happiness. Not here at least. You only see the happy Instagram life of those who pretend.”

“Why are you saying that? Happy people do exist,” she reiterated, leaping to catch up to him and reaching him, and staring right at him.

“The only happiness is not to be born.”

“That is so morbid. Do you think your life has no purpose? How do you wake up in the morning?”

“Like people in prison. Oh! Prisoners.”

“What about children? Children make you happy, even if you are not related to them. And your own blood, well, I don’t think there is anything more beautiful than that,” she tried to give an argument for happiness. To happiness.

“Agreed. But for how long?” he built his argument. “Some years. For your personal happiness, or a way to entertain yourself, you bring souls into this world. This miserable world where every single layer – up in the air and down in the earth – is being compromised for an unhealthy world ahead. Water, not safe. Air, not safe. Laws, not protective. And these same kids make you a coward. After happiness, you are always in panic mode. Fearing the evitable and the inevitable. Panic and fear are not happiness.”

“That’s a perspective and as it’s yours, I won’t tell you it’s misguided, which it is. But I will tell you that planting a seed, watching someone smile, hearing laughter, experiencing poetry, flowers, the moon and children are happiness. Have you seen the entire world shining on a single face? It is when a kid smiles while looking at you.”

“I have.”

“Yet you are stubborn not to believe.”

“Maybe. And afraid of the tears to fall, catastrophe to arrive and bad phase to come. Plants, laughter, poetry, flowers and children; they all die eventually.”

“Yes, everything dies and therein lies the beauty. Imagine a never-ending life; that would be torture for everyone. An actual tragedy.”

“It is a lost situation in any case. Misery with a deadline or without a deadline. Nothing to make you happy.”

“Your philosophy of life is not only one-dimensional but also depressing.”

“I agree,” the corners of his lips turning up into a rare smile.

“You are a pessimist.”

“Actually, a realist!” His smile lingered.

“Whatever,” she said, losing her train of thought. Damn his lazy smile.

They continued to walk in the dark and shady public garden. Old ones were jogging on the track. Young ones were sitting in couples on dark benches. The silhouettes were difficult to define. But not romantic at all.

Isn’t touch disturbing? The overall idea of two bodies coming close, closer, invading breathing space… how the hell have poets and writers sold this for centuries?

He picked up a leaf and absent-mindedly tore it in half, “Of all the relations in the world, we only make one by choice; marriage. And we fail at it. Even the pretending happiest couples curse their decision of marriage from time to time.”

“Dark Shakespeare!”

“Darkespeare. Glad to be of service.”

The silhouettes on the benches continued to move. Couples spending their present with someone they know will not be part of their future. In the not so distant future – they will decide to part ways. And then, again, in another close encounter, they will remember the benches in the park. Yes. These same benches. They have been witnesses to a lot of warm history in a cold track.

Imagine living with someone and remembering someone else. Kissing someone and imagining someone else. Isn’t it the reason people close their eyes while kissing? She would call that morbid.

The walk continued amidst the moving silhouettes. He asked her if he could smoke.

“Sure”, she replied; while he wondered why he asked her.

She resumed the conversation, “So, tell me. How can we be happy? What do you think is the core of all our problems?”

“Existence is the core of all problems.”

“So… non-existence…is mass suicide the answer?”

“I didn’t say suicide. I said non-existence as in not to begin the existence. And I don’t know the depth.”

“Very convenient for a confused man to know one dimension only.”

“Knowing that you don’t know is not confusion. Besides, I have questions as well. I can try answering this one: loyalty lies at the crux of all social problems.”

“How can you blame loyalty which is the epitome of human values?”

“Loyalty demands injustice. It divides everything into two: The thing or things you are loyal to and everything else. Loyalty to your country means to hate enemy countries. Loyalty to your caste, creed, religion, ethnicity, and anything else demands violence; sooner or later. Loyalty to religion demands… you want me to commit blasphemy, don’t you?” he stopped abruptly.

“No! I don’t want anyone to be blasphemous because religion to me is the most important philosophy of life. And loyalty is one of the most important human values.”

“Well, religion is a philosophy and a beautiful one. But it is personal. At least, it should be personal. You can talk about it and persuade someone, but you cannot force and kill based on religion or any philosophy. And that is exactly why the state should be secular.”

“No, the state should not be secular if it was established solely on the basis of religion.”

“What if the basis is wrong?”

“How is the basis wrong?”

“Look around you and see the blood, hate, desecration, filth, devolution, illiteracy, hunger, anger…I could go on…” looking bemused and sad at the same time.

“Is it all because of religion?”

“No, it is because of the religious followers who always find a religious reason to do so.”

“Easy to blame them.”

“Who else should I blame then? Bees?”

She smiled and he was reminded of sunshine. “Okay, let’s put aside all our world views, but I completely disagree with you on the loyalty part.”

“Loyalty should have some sort of limit. Endpoint. For example, loyalty to religion is fine, but it should end before it reaches the threshold of justifying bloodshed. Loyalty to a political party is acceptable, but it should die when the realpolitik becomes corrupt. Loyalty to country is okay, but it should not be based on xenophobia.”

“And loyalty in marriage?”

“Ah! Marriage is unhappiness and one should not be loyal to unhappiness.” He smirked.

“You don’t mean that, right?”

“I do. I do. I do.”

“Now you’re just mocking me.”

“Albeit cryptically, I have answered your questions.”

“I feel that the entire society will collapse without loyalty.”

“Let me give you an example. Imagine a woman living in an abusive marriage for over a decade. She is violated both verbally and physically. There is no escape from the marriage as she will not be accepted back by her family and her husband or the society will kill her. Now, after a decade, she gets a chance at love.”

“It’s an extramarital affair.”

“This is all she’s got; an affair. And this affair, this relationship; gives her some peace and happiness. Shouldn’t she follow that path?”

“No?”

“Why not? Doesn’t she deserve some respite? Isn’t she worthy of love?”

“It is not that she isn’t worthy, it is that she cannot trespass.”

“Her husband is trespassing already. Why can’t she?”

“Because it is wrong from all aspects; religious, social, moral and ethical.”

“You are talking about all the standards that are the reasons behind her suffering and unhappiness. And you are not allowing her a chance.”

“Because the chance is wrong.”

“By your standards. Or the society’s. The society that has given her nothing; that has left her to rot; that would rather see her die than step up and save her. She is not hurting anyone; she is just living some moments of peace. And I think, she should follow what brings her peace.”

“You are advocating an idea that may collapse the whole society.”

“Don’t you see? Society has already disintegrated for her if she is suffering.”

“Well, I will choose suffering over transgression.”

“And I will let people live their personal lives the way they want to live their personal lives.”

“And I won’t hold someone accountable for their personal lives, even if I disagree.”

“Finally. Agreement at disagreement.”

Both walked some more with to and fro questions, answers, and rebuttals until the time to say goodbye arrived.

“I was heartbroken before coming here. Now, I am going back carrying burdens off-loaded by a confused man.” she said.

“I was looking forward to breaking a heart before coming here. And I am still waiting.”

“Haha! Because you are mean. Well, I do not intend to go in the direction to get broken.”

“No one is, until tracks collide without a plan and without intentions.”

“Keep dreaming friend, not going to happen.”

“Not dreaming. Forecasting.”

“See you in another weather forecast. Ciao!”

And he saw her in the farewell moment – the only face to face exchange in some light – and he sighed in relief that at least he was not the reason behind her heartbreak. Sighed in relief. That’s the least dark he could become.

In another world. When we are both cats.

Biden’s Day 1

Day 1 of Biden: Inauguration. Office. Issuance of promised presidential orders. 17 executive orders. Muslim ban: abolished. Mexico wall: halted. Student debt collection: freezed. Paris climate accords: re-joined. Discrimination against LGBT employees: banned. and so on… This is how you prove that homework was done prior to oath. This is how you show dignity of your spoken words. Not 90 days. Not 1 year. Not 2 years. No hiccups. No blame-game. No old-age NRO shit. No if and no but. Straight to work like a true leader. Breaking the conservative threshold right on day 1 with liberal orders. And here we are stuck with container speeches, narcissism, NRO, inflation, and incompetency. But don’t blame. He is a meme only. Nothing more than a dummy. Blame yourself for patriotic pizza services; serving customers in all civil domains. Here. And hereafter. ======== Response after some stupid comments:

Those who stood with the US on War on Terror, are angry that Democrats are pro-war.

Those who remained silent at being an active ally on war against Yemen, are annoyed that Democrats will be harsh on foreign policies.

Those who gave air bases to let drones fly and kill civilians, are advocating that Trump was better than the Democrats.

Those who neither hear nor speak of missing people, are criticizing that Democrats are violators of global human rights.

Those who supported Trump on Afghan policies, are historically myopic of their own violence in the neighborhood.

And this can go on and on with inclusion of silence on Uighur and mourning for Palestine.

Relax Mr. Hypocrite!

First of all, PTI was not compared to Republicans or Democrats. PTI was nothing until it was nurtured specifically for this task to cover the Martial Law.

Only the loudmouth PM’s promises were compared to that of Biden’s. You may call the comparison between a rotten tomato and an apple. Whatever.

Secondly, our PM was clueless – which he has admitted himself – about everything. All he has to do is vomit all day. All his ministers and SAPMs are assigned to throw filth on news channels and Twitter. Nothing more or less.

Apart from NRO, past corruption, billions offshore, and inflation; they have delivered ZERO. You want to defend that, defend it. Lick. Gag. Whatever you like.

Thirdly, as said before, this government is not even in power. I don’t actually blame them. They are clueless dummies. Memes. Jokers. Defending their uniformed bosses all the time; who are running businesses, civil institutions, foreign policies, security state’s narrative, Covid-19, foreign funds, real estates, and what not.

Lastly, Biden is for the US. Not for Pakistan. Try to get this.

So, Mr. Hypocrite! Take a deep breath. Inhale for 10 seconds. Now, exhale for 10 seconds. Push your fingers down your throat. Gag yourself. Good. Now vomit.

Hazara Bleeds… Again

Jam Kamal, the incumbent-incompetent Chief Minister of Balochistan, expressed his grievance on murder of 11 coal miners in Splinji. The clueless CM didn’t even know that the butchering happened in Mach area and not Splinji. But I guess, even he knows, who cares. It’s bleeding so consistently in the region that it’s hard to track locations.
 
Hazara is being targeted for its ethnicity for over a decade. Thousands have been killed. People have mourned and the state has condemned. For nothing. Because the killers were nurtured and raised under the state. Proxy outfits for proxy wars to make sure the system remains insecure.
 
These outfits have been owned and disowned at will. For Dollars – in both cases – too. They have been used to wreak havoc whenever necessary, and they have been targeted and killed in other scenarios. The double game – of keeping snakes at the backyard – is so complex that it’s hard to have a clear narrative of what is actually happening.
 
That’s why, of all the problems, there is one problem. Of all the evil leaves, there is only one root-cause.
 
Anyway.
 
The other day, people were asking for solutions. Well, for that, you need to recognize the problem first. That’s the first step.
 
The second step is to identify the troublemakers – the perpetrators. And here, you will cover yourself with green blanket.
 
The third step is to have a democratic view to the solution. Involving civil bodies. Civil Parliament. And that’s exactly where the whole dream collapses.
 
But you can resist and protest. With words. With gestures. With actions. And sometimes, with silence too.
 
Have a look in history. The people you quote today, were those who dissented. The people you praise today, were those who were not in majority. The people you are proud of, took the lone-righteous-path. And here, you are quoting poets of revolution while sailing the ship of Zalim in bloody waters.
 
When Imaam Ahmad bin Hambal was imprisoned, one of the prison guards came to him and asked him:
 
“O Abu ‘Abdillah! The hadith that is narrated regarding the oppressors and those that aid them – is it authentic?”
He said: “Yes.”
The prison guard then said: “So, am I considered to be an aide of the oppressors?”
Imam Ahmad replied: “No. The aides of the oppressors are those that comb their hair, and wash their clothes, and prepare their meals, and buy and sell for them. As for you, you are one of the oppressors themselves.” (Source: ‘Manaqib al-Imam Ahmad’ by Ibn al-Jawzi; p.397)
 
How much blood is necessary?
How much blood is collateral damage?
How much blood a motherland needs?
Are people for the land or the land for people?
 
With that, and with spilled blood, we have nothing else to do. We will mourn, as usual. For some days. Until another massacre will shake us from our deep slumber.
 
Press snooze.

Police Brutality & State Terrorism

Police brutality and Rangers’ violence in Karachi: Ignored.

State brutality and killing of students and young men in Balochistan: Ignored.

FC brutality in the whole western belt: Ignored.

State criminals of Sahiwal incident: Pardoned.

444 encounters in Sindh: Hushed.

Now police brutality in Federal. Islamabad. A young man killed mercilessly. Because system allowed this. State allowed this. Gaps allowed this.

17 bullets.

So, incidents happen. Young die. Old gets older and get promotion after promotion for their violent loyalties.

Don’t mind but APS happened because…

Don’t mind. Don’t mind. You can’t. Anyway.

This land, is a windmill of martyrs. We make and sell martyrs. Sometimes individually and sometimes in bulk. Here and there and everywhere. We know how to snooze. We know how to stay numb and dumb. And we are addicted to tears of mothers. Nothing shakes us anymore.

Till next episode, buzz off!

Happy Old Year Marla!

It was tough to find bank details and transactions of 1990s regarding Asghar Khan case. But it was easy to find details of money laundering, corruption, transport rent, breakfast bills and movie tickets from 1970s and 1980s.

It was easier to get humiliated, defeated and dissected than to talk and accept the East.

It was tough to investigate Benazir murder case. But it was easy to hang Bhutto on a controversial murder case.

It was easy to clean the crime scene in Rawalpindi, and easier to blame all gagged puppets who followed.

It’s easy to call back the absconder in London than the absconder in Dubai.

It’s easy to kill traitors here and there, around the rivers; but it’s tough to keep the actual terrorists in custody.

It’s easy to encounter 444 than to call the one in the Supreme Court.

It’s easy to impose, kill, loot and settle abroad; than to get raped to settle abroad.

It’s easy to challenge expatriates to come back to get murdered than agree to disagree.

It’s easy to abduct, kill and dump them than to give them equal civil rights.

It’s easier to shot, burn, and kill than actual blasphemy. Blasphemy for the sake of blasphemy.

It’s easier to censor and label than to listen.

It’s easier to burn a temple than to protect one.

It’s easier to be an apologist and status quo asshole, than to shake conscious alone.

It’s easier to sleep corrected than to stand corrected.

A little politics. A little religion. An ultimate combination. Some cocaine. Some threat. All done.

The vicious cycle of imposed-democracy is here again. Again? You may debate this and that, with ifs and buts, and blame the puppets here and there; without understanding the root-cause.

It’s 2021. Same like 1990s! A little ‘naya’ and a little reformed. With a new joker as a scapegoat.

Anyway. Happy Old Year Marla!

Questions?

If Karima Baloch was a traitor and was killed by Indians; then why didn’t the news channels cover it? You know when news channels don’t cover a story?
 
I know you know.
 
Do you know when people look abroad for their local issues?
According to your definition of treason, why do people become traitors? Why does a whole locality become treacherous?
 
Were we traitors when we asked for Pakistan?
 
Were Bangali – 55% of the population – traitors in 1971? Can a majority be labeled as traitor? If yes, doesn’t that kill the whole purpose of a state? Or a nation state?
 
Why do we like exactly the same thing in our neighborhood – like Khalistan Movement – but brutally hate the same one at home?
 
Why do we like foreign authors who criticize their governments – like Arundhati Roy – but hate our own similar critics for exactly the same reason?
 
Why do we prefer liberal governments in the West and non-liberal government at home?
 
And – again – why are news channels mute on certain incidents and issues? Why are thousands of people -who disagree under the banner of PTM – not part of the news; but a radical preacher talking about blood and hate is telecasted live?
 
We mourn APS every year. But we don’t shake our souls when we all know Ehsan Ullah Ehsan’s episode. No question asked.
 
Is there a standard? Or is there only hypocrisy? Sheer hypocrisy.
 
Questions are the same. Answers may vary. You can have your own version of answers. Sometimes, it is hard to land. Sometimes, it is not. But do analyze. Listen. Read. And have an opinion on things which are overt and covert at the same time.

We Didn’t

The kids were taken brutally. One by one for hours. Till 144. Or 145. Or 146. We are not sure.

The blood was telecasted. On TV Channels. On social media. An alarming security situation was created.

A narrative was set: We are at war and we are at the losing end.

Constitution amended. Budget enhanced. War approved.

This is how the business of war works. With blood. With collateral damage.

If we had been conscious and righteous enough; we would have taken them by collars for the security lapse.

We didn’t.

Then we saw the mastermind – Ehsan Ullah Ehsan – escape. We should have taken them by collars again.

We didn’t.

Then we saw the commission report of the APS incident. A slap on the face of all the parents around. We should have taken them by collars.

We didn’t.

Maybe we are deadbeat now. We see kids get raped daily. We see their faces. We see their mutilated dead bodies. And we have become numb. A little hue and cry after some time and that’s it. We are done.

So, here we are. Dead. Consciously, knowingly, deliberately, physically, and spiritually.

May heaven fall on us. And bury our stinking coffins.