Balochistan Issue

Bear with me because it is going to be long one. But it is needed.

“Walking with the Comrades” is a book by Arundhati Roy where she narrates her firsthand experience of forests of Central India. Among Maoists. Naxalites. Dr. Manmohan Singh famously said that Naxalites / Maoists are “single biggest internal security threat” to India.

Why? What was the problem? Why were these Adivasis / Lower Castes hated so much? Why “Salwa Judum” kind of lethal forces were made to kill them? Why were the police unleashed on them. Even Indian military was launched against these people who had nothing to eat. Air Force was used too.

Because Chhattisgarh, Jharkhand, Odisha, Madhya Pradesh, etc. had iron ore, coal, bauxite, copper, and other minerals worth billions of dollars. India wanted to make rich richer by selling these minerals abroad. So, these people had to be rooted out from their homes. With bullets. Through force.

Who are these people. Of course they are poor. Hungry. Illiterate. But that’s not what they all are. There are doctors, engineers, middle class revolutionaries among them too. They read. They write. And they try their best to fight against the propaganda. But they are shunned on mainstream media. Newspapers don’t cover them. They are hated by default all across the country.

So, when they get nothing in return, they fight. Once, in 2008, they raid a police armory and captured 1,200 rifles and 200,000 rounds of ammunition. They killed police in return. They took as much vengeance as they could. And sometimes, they killed innocent citizens too. Happens. Collateral damage happens both ways.

Now imagine Gandhi meeting these people and asking them to go for hunger strike. Idiotic, right? When you have no audience, you can die in any kind of strike. You need to be Gandhi in order to be successful. Hence, in such cases, resistance is the only way-forward.

So far so good. Right? It’s India, so you have an obvious conscientious side.

Big dams in India have displaced 40-50 million people. That’s 4-5 crore people. In 1980s, the same kind of Adivasis / lower caste people stood under Narmada Bachao Andolan (NBA) to stop the dams that were going to drown their homes and history. They failed. and But they made their mark. World Bank (always against poor in different formats) withdrew from it after Morse Commission stated that the project was actually not feasible.

Large dams were a myth. They destroy more land than they cultivate. They destroy villages and history. Silting. Deforestation. Downstream water shortage. Disrupting deltas. And displacement of millions of people.

Where do these millions go?

In slums. Of Mumbai, Delhi, Kolkata. They are moved from their already lower hierarchy to the lowest and then their generations rot in slums without becoming a slumdog millionaire.

NBA did whatever they could. They even stood in their homes when the water level in the dam was rising. They stood till they were drowned till their necks. What else could they do even after beating World Bank? NBA were not able to initiate an armed struggle. So, they lost it. Just like farmers. From 1995 to 2014, around 300,000 farmers have committed suicide in India.

Naxalites were able to pick up arms – advantage of being in jungles – so they did and are not lost yet.

Now come to Pakistan’s Balochistan. Let’s take a 180 shift from our collective conscientious. Because we are going to enter the same paradox that everyone in their country has – one way or the other i.e., treating a certain segment with discrimination and violence.

Balochistan has minerals worth billions (start relating it with the above examples of India). Those who want to get rich are posted there in both civil and military establishment. Remember General Papa Johns? Other than minerals, smuggling is a big market there. But these are all for establishment guys. People there remain poor.

Balochistan has been targeted since 1948. Military operations after military operations were launched. After assassination of Bugti by General Musharraf, BLA was formed. Organically. Now this BLA is not of sardars or militants in literal sense. It is of young – most educated people. There are doctors and engineers among them. Well-read and trust me they will beat you on table talks with their knowledge. They are not under any sardar or feudal lord. They are their own masters.

Umm… Naxalites!

How was Mama Qadir was treated? He just wanted to talk but LUMS was denied.

Why was Sabeen Mehmood killed? Just because she allowed a space in Karachi to talk about Balochistan?

Maulana Hidayat? Why this huge propaganda against him when he isn’t armed?

And now, Mahrang Baloch? Her father was abducted. Then killed. She has questions. She is a victim of state terrorism. She came to Islamabad with her questions and with her demand of constitutional rights. What did we do? Answer violently. Soaked her and all others in water in winter. Threw her out of the capital.

Narmada Bachao Andolan resonating?

Same thing with PTM. They have been hated and tagged ‘anti-nationals’ since forever. They are not armed. They just want implementation of National Action Plan and Constitution of Pakistan. Yet, they are as ugly as anyone who asks questions.

So, what is the option left for them? Revolution? Arm resistance? To make noise to be heard?

As Nehru said, “Only Israfeel’s trumpet can wake the dead.” Let me write that in Urdu:

مردوں کو جگانے کے لیے صور پھونکنا ہی پڑے گا۔

I condemn murder of innocent people. They were as poor as any poor anywhere. We are condemning since 1948. Condemned. Condemned. Condemned. What next? Condemnations till we ourselves will be condemned for our own miserable deaths?

I condemn the deaths of the innocent ones. But before condemning the perpetrators – I would prefer to condemn the big perpetrators whose policies gives birth to small perpetrators every now and then. The ones who keep the flames burning. The ones who make fortunes over the wars, dead bodies, and coffins.

There is only solution. The same we forgot in 1950s and 1960s that ended up as 1971.

Islamabad – and of course the adjacent city – needs to sit with Balochs with honesty. Military solution is not a solution but a mess as we have seen since the foundation of this country.

Those you hate – or the ones hated on mainstream media with propaganda – are the key figures to peace: Mahrang, Hidayat etc. Their grievances need to be heard and addressed. Their difference of opinions should be part of dialogue on mainstream media. No one should be censored as long as hate and violence are not part of communication.

That won’t happen obviously. Duffers rule here. And life of Balochs never mattered.

They would love to sit with TLP and TTP but not the ones who are just angry for not being given their constitutional rights and are fed of their loved ones gone missing in a ritual.

This is the shortest it could be written on this topic. Else a whole small book like “Walking with the Comrades” can be written on this topic in a single go.

دل کی بات ہے

دل کی بات ہے۔

دل چاہے تو حرام، حرام۔

دل مانے تو سب حلال۔

جان چھڑانی ہو تو استخارہ

ورنہ ہر بات گوارا۔

ایک طرف جائز طلاق

دوسری جانب ناجائز نباہ۔

اپنے لیے آزمائش

دوسروں کے لیے مکافات۔

انجان کا اچانک چھونا اچھا لگے تو راحت

نہ لگے تو حراسانی کی قباحت۔

پسندیدہ شخص کا شرک بھی توحید

ورنہ تو مومن کا جہاد بھی فساد۔

مردہ شہید۔

شہید مردہ۔

دل بھر جائے تو بیڑہ غرق

نہ بھرے تو مسلسل اذیت۔

دل کی بات ہے۔

میری آزمائش، تمہاری سزا۔

میری نماز، تمہاری ٹکریں۔

میری جنت، تمہاری دوزخ۔

Business of Terrorism

Burkina Faso tops the Global Terrorism Index, with Pakistan following closely in second place. Congratulations . A difference of just 0.207 between the two countries. A little more consistency, and we could claim the top spot.

Who will you blame? Sorry. Wrong words. Let me rephrase. Who deserves the credit? The Prime Minister? The Chief Ministers? The Chief Justices? No.

You know who’s the unsung hero in all this. From martial law to another. From one bomb blast to another. The country is in blood not for nothing. There’s a complete business plan under execution.

This patriotism and nationalism is a business of the elite. It is embedded in you with curriculum, songs, movies, and slogans. So that you can die, and your family be proud of it. Let me elaborate with an already shared post:

Rashid Minhas took the plane down and crashed it because an agent was trying to take it to other side of the border. Minhas embraced martyrdom and was awarded Nishan-e-Haider.

Who was the agent? What is the other side of the story?

Matiur Rehman was the “agent” who was trying to take the plane out of Pakistan. He was fighting for his nation i.e. freedom fight of Bengalis. From Bangladeshi point of view, he was their hero.

Matiur Rehman was awarded Bir Sreshtho (equivalent to Nishan-e-Haider) and is known as their national hero. Just like Minhas.

Two sides of the same coin. Same story. Same incident. Same plane. Same martyrdom. Same medal of honor. And same religion.

Both were sons. Both had families. Both had dreams. Both had a life.

But who won? Business. Business of war, weapons, arsenals, jets, tanks…

And who suffered? Those who were sick, hungry, illiterate, malnourished, and striving for basics. Public. Awaam. Janta. They are still striving. Pakistan, India and Bangladesh have the highest pool of people below poverty line.

Take it this way. There are five members of Security Council. This council of security is supposed to make this world more secure. And these five countries are the top five countries of exporting weapons. Business. Nothing else. We either end up as consumers or collateral damage. Wrapped in a flag. 21 shots. That’s it.

As Arundhati Roy said;

“Flags are bits of colored cloth that governments use first to shrink-wrap people’s minds & then as ceremonial shrouds to bury the dead.”

Trash Can

In the end, you are all trash cans for others. Dumpsters.

If you try not to be, you fail. You don’t meet expectations. You are selfish.

So, you are. The closest ones dump more. Some only dump and dump until you are unable to recycle the consistent flow. You stink then.

And then, the obvious fall: you fail.

You are not what you were supposed to be: a trash can.

What are the expectations? Who sets them? Why are all expectations centered around to be a trash can?

A better trash can is a better person to market. To show to the world. Your worth?

Close your lid.

Let the people slide.

Or roll somewhere far – maybe towards the trash truck and get rid of all the garbage.

Neither dump. Nor let anyone dump.

In the end, a trash can is never enough.

Random Numbness: Oscars 2025

There’s one sure-shot recipe for an Oscar nomination and subsequent award: Holocaust. Even if the movie is as dull as “A Real Pain”. Who would have thought Kieran Culkin would win an Oscar for this?

Follow the recipe. Like Adrien Brody. Did twice. Doesn’t matter if you are a pianist or an architect. You can even spit your gum from stage, and it will remain more memorable and less disgusting.

Because not every is Daniel-Day Lewis, Jack Nicholson, Meryl Streep, or Frances McDormand. Some others are dependent on the acceptable content than the acting itself.

“No Other Land” – a documentary by Palestinian and Israeli filmmakers about Israel’s destruction of the West Bank – winning an Oscar can be called the most benevolent moment of the ceremony, if not the only one.

The good thing is that “A Complete Unknown” won nothing despite eight nominations. The movie was about Bob Dylan’s life from 1961 to probably 1965. Wandering between the two bed sheets. A couple of folk song and his idea of going electric. Nothing much except the latest blue-eye boy of Hollywood Timothee Chalamet doing his typical acting. Bob Dylan was never felt. Almost all the songs that Dylan was shown thinking – or writing or trying for the first time – were after being done on bed.

Dylan was a major inspiration for Steve Jobs, especially in Apple‘s early days. His songs were acts of resistance, awakening the collective conscience of listeners. Songs against wars. Songs against power. Songs for peace. The guy is the only singer who won the Nobel Peace Prize in literature. He deserved a better movie with rich content.

Like “Bohemian Rhapsody”. A complete story of Freddie Mercury as well as Queen. The rise, the rights, the composition of different songs, Live Aid concert at Wembley, Aids, and then death of Mercury. That movie covered it all with exceptional performance of Rami Malek – rightfully earned him an Oscar.

By the way, the depiction of making “We Will Rock You” was beautiful. And Bohemian Rhapsody can itself be a whole movie in itself. This song alone could inspire an entire thesis. Who would have imagined blending Bismillah, Galileo, Scaramouche, Mama, unwanted life, and unasked-for death—all in a single song?

Bismillah!

Another by the way coming… have you felt visibly how even the creative world is going down? These singers – Queen, Michael Jackson, Boney M, Bob Dylan, Beatles, Pink Floyd, Pearl Jam, John Lenon, etc.; and our own ones like NFAK, Lata, Rafi, Kishore, Nazia Hassan, etc. – got their hits when we were not even born. Yet, we are still listening to them because the present is offering nothing to us except vulgar disappointments with no shard of intellect.

Or maybe all the good compositions have been composed, and all the fine songs have been worded. There is no room left in the imaginable imaginations of humans. That’s why post-apocalypse scenarios, aliens, space, etc. are the only leftover topics to explore further. The same goes for books and novels.

What else to write?

What else to compose?

What else to sing?

What else to expose?

Plea

Step aside angel! I was just torn apart rib by rib by a mob and now I don’t intend to wait in a queue. I am here and I can’t go back so please let me talk at this heavenly door I wish I wouldn’t have seen. No, not for paradise. I don’t want that. I am here to plea. To talk to the Lord.

My Lord!

You know I was shopping for my children. My four children. One child takes nine months… you know that already. The youngest one is very young. The eldest one… pardon me but she is very young too. No one is mature enough to earn. And feed themselves. The bellies. Small bellies. You know these bellies burn with fire when they are empty for days? We fear that fire more than the promised one, my Lord!

I’m here to talk. My God! We have talked before. I remember. But now I won’t leave until I get the surety of my children to be taken care of.

No. I don’t intend to intend. I have seen countless children dead in rubbles. Crushed under their own homes. Hundreds of them are lifeless in ICUs. With pipes and drips going inside their tiny bodies and their lives drop by drop. Minute by…

I’m not here for heaven. I don’t want virgins or wine. I don’t even need all this. I just want security. I want one memorandum of understanding. One on one. And then you can drag me to wherever You wish.

Who is he staring at me?

“He’s the one who killed you, awaiting his entrance to the heaven.”

Standing on the door, he thought, even after death, he was at the wrong door. Again.

And then the heavenly door creaked with a thump…

ALL RISE! IN THE NAME OF…

Another Week of Void.

Just another week of fight. Then finances will be all right. For one week at least. Another two weeks to make a complete circle of life. Before halting into another void.

The void. Where you exist and function and feel nothing. But you are not entirely numb either.

The void in itself isn’t bad. Afterwards, after entering the void, I can feel your pain and all the pain around the world and can translate it into the words I know badly.

You may have realized it or not, but tight spaces and pain bring a lot of imaginations. A lot of words. Every stranger is a walking afsana (short story). Every road is a road to eternity. Every story is a sad story. Everyone looks miserable.

And you can relate to the real world. The real, real world.

Like that lady who walks a kilometer daily to her bus stop to save rikshaw money. Do footpaths matter?

Or that sabzi wala who is going to drag his cart with shaking wheels throughout the day to make enough that would never be enough. Do quality of road matters to him?

Or that guy wearing a dirty shirt over his clean dress-shirt with a tie and shining shoes; and speeding his bike to work where he would be listening to insults almost the entire day. Does he matter if his bike slips, and he dies in an ugly accident with his blood making a new lane on the road?

Or that new girl in town who came with the love of her life only to be sold out here. Should she take bath and scrub the skin, or should she pass another zombie day as every day is the same day? How many times would she serve today? She wonders, who she would be opening up to tonight?

Or that man who is going to court today again. For over a year now. All his savings have gone in the gutter of laws and justice. But don’t feel bad for him. He’s going to court to lie again about the property that doesn’t belong to him. The misery would stand on the other side of the courtroom. I don’t know her. But does air conditioning matters in the courtroom?

And among all these miseries and routine tragedies are those sleeping on footpaths. High on dose. Drugged. Away from the falling meteors of the universe. We feel bad for them. They feel bad for us. For sure they sleep better than us. Like the laborers who sweat all day and have no home to go back to and just sleep wherever they can. Without a sleeping pill.

Or that new Deputy Secretary going to office on his official car – the car that belongs to people mentioned above – to pass another day with nodding and some quotable quotes. Too drugged from last night. Got some fresh weed and consumed more than routine. Now, he would need four cups of coffee – yes, coffee funded by the miserable lot of people – to at least be able to sit and nod and look like the smartest one in the room. By that way that room too is bearing operating costs being borne by the miserables mentioned and not mentioned above.

Now tell me, isn’t tightness beautifully sad? Hundred stories day after day. Walking novels. Running mysteries. Sleeping nightmares.

Sorry for all that. Just another week…

£180 million

Even if you play devil’s advocate and try to defend it with all the ifs and buts and legal jargons, you know that was corruption. A massive one. With clear benefits for the people in the government of that time i.e. PTI.

Otherwise, you don’t present an ex-agenda item in a closed envelope to be approved by the Federal Cabinet without even knowing about it. Shireen Mazari objected rightly.

And that is not just one case. Asim Bajwa’s pizza worth billions were cleaned and okayed by the same Prime Minister. “I’m satisfied”, he said then. And you don’t approve pizza without taking a pie. Your pie. Or maybe you don’t like pizza at all.

Then there were so many other cases. Clear for some. Unclear for others. It depends on the stand of bias where you sit.

The mantra from getting billions of offshore money back to Pakistan was turned into another mantra of putting it back into the account of the corrupt offshore holder. How convenient!

A journalist gets a plot of 1 kanal from Malik Riaz and everyone is of the clear opinion that this journalist and his entire TV channel is corrupt. But Khan gets 458 kanal, yet he stays incorruptible.

By the way, Raheel Shareef got 868 kanal in Lahore. After retirement. For serving the country. I’m sorry. It’s a landmark deviation.

Anyway, just when homes and apartments – Remember Nasla Tower? – were being bulldozed by the government and the Supreme Court, Imran Khan got clearance of his Bani Gala residence for pennies. Literally pennies. Rs.6 per sq. ft.

Meanwhile, exactly around the same time, poor people in Islamabad and Karachi were thrown out of their homes by Development Authorities in the name of legalities.

And exactly – another meanwhile – the same time came Malik Riaz who grabbed 30,000 acres of land in Karachi, threw people out of their homes, apartheid small villages, and made billions. That was PPP supporting him in Sindh and PTI helping him out in the Center. You listened to that song “I hate you, like I love you…”. Makes sense?

Now, did Zardari took cash? Any evidence? Leak call? Something? No. But we do know he’s absolutely corrupted in this matter or any other. Just like he did what he did for Rao Anwar (444 encounters including Naqeebullah).

Allow His Highness another deviation.

Rao Anwar was not just a usual DSP. He made 74 trips of Dubai in 6 years at a mere salary of Rs.95,000. He has multiple properties (apartments, offices, suites, etc.) in Dubai which generates rents in thousands of dollars. But he was not corrupt. Never raised his hand on anyone. Just a bullet 444 times. And the court cleared him. Getting that?


But in dark nights, his conscientiousness doesn’t let him sleep. Dostoevsky novels hurt him – which he hasn’t even read. Crime and punishment kinda. He wakes up and walks around in his villas all night and thinks to commit suicide.

Not really. He takes his branded wine. And he sleeps well. Don’t be an idiot like you always are in defending your godfather.

In a very, very nutshell. NCA investigated. Froze £180 million. Malik Riaz got in trouble. Comes Shehzad Akbar (why, why?), who tells NCA that Riaz will drain you out in a legal battle with money. Comes settlement. Fine. NCA to transfer the stolen wealth back to the country from where it was stolen. Comes Pakistan. Comes Federal Cabinet’s meeting where, on directions of Imran Khan, Shehzad Akbar asks the cabinet to approve the agenda without knowing about it.

The whole Federal machinery helped him. The same Malik Riaz who himself never has defended his corruption. But now, as we are coming closer to the stink of everyone, he sounds pious. Just in this episode. Please allow this benefit of doubt for the sake of the greatest of all times. Just this one time. Nah!

Because in return, Khan got 458 kanal. Yes, right. For university. In the name of religion. In the name of holy texts. They corrupt you like no one else.

Now, are you an idiot?

Or are you that hunter who goes to hunt a bear in the woods? And every time bear hunts him – yeah, the other way round. By the third time, bear squints. “You’re not really out here for the hunting, are you?”

Stop hunting. This one case is as clear as the sun in a summer sky. But since you don’t want to believe it, it’s ok. After all, it’s not the pawns. It’s the system. And this one case of Malik Riaz unites all. PPP, PMLN, PTI, military, and the whole bureaucratic machinery.

Just like the military unites them in times of extensions. And extraordinary budget.

Scar. Not Mufasa.

Sarabi: His [Scar] destiny was to save you [Mufasa].

How convenient when you are destining to become his wife? Meanwhile, Scar knew his destiny was stolen.

It felt entirely different than was being shown on the screen. The movie “Mufasa” has different story.

We always disliked Scar – or Taka, his real name. Without knowing the history, we hated his actions. We hated his actions for power to be the king of the jungle.

On a flipside, and with innocence, it was Mufasa who robbed him. Mufasa – due to negligence of his parents – yeah, yeah, accident – became a stray. Scar saved him from crocodiles and took him home. Gave him a mother, his mother. Lost a race to save Mufasa’s life from his father. And stood with him for years.

Scar was the first one to question the rules of monarchy. He didn’t accept the bloodline shat. He raised questions. He was the fist lion to voice meritocracy over the vague birthright.

Anyway, when the new kingdom became dangerous, Mufasa and Scar left to find a new land. How easy it was for Mufasa.

Then, Scar fell in love with Sarabi. He told Mufasa. But then, it was a triangle. Sarabi told Mufasa to be the mover of his destiny and love her back and Mufasa accepted instantly. They could have shared Sarabi. They were lions, man. They mate with different lion every season. Coulda… woulda… shoulda…

Comes another kingdom. Just when Mufasa was about to lose life, he motivates the innocent animals to fight against the while lions – when it was crystal clear that white lions only wanted to kill Mufasa to take revenge. Even then, it was Scar who saves the life of Mufasa. Twice.

You may think that Scar was disloyal for one moment. Well, no. Scar had no obligation to be loyal to Mufasa in any way.

You know the rest. Comes Simba. Generational wealth. Monarchy. Lion King.

The victors write history. The truth depends on who tells the story. In this case, Disney, mainstream media, stories, books, and everything supported a clever lion who became a monarch and an absolute ruler while living off on others.

Remember, the true hero. Scar. Always was.

Entering 2025.

Let me re-write what I have been writing for the last 3 years on 31st December.

Khalid Hosseini writes in ‘And the Mountains Echoed’, “Should have been more kind. That is something a person will never regret. You will never say to yourself when you are old, ah, I wish I was not good to that person. You will never think that.”

Happy New Year with that though it doesn’t matter. If you are in pain on 31st of December, you will be in pain on 1st of January. But if you are happy on 31st of December, there are chances you’ll be unhappy on the 1st of January.

Afterall, happiness in itself is a façade. A lie. One cannot be happy within this body, with this mind, with this soul, and with ultimate disregard for everything and disrespect for his/her own self.

You can counter with what Fyodor Dostoevsky wrote. “Man only likes to count his troubles; he doesn’t calculate his happiness.” Thought, all you need to do is to know Dostoevsky and you may not find an unhappier man.

Anyway.

2024 was ugly like any other year. Not ugly for Palestinians much because they had all the years like that, and they shall have some more. Still, the intensity of 2024 being ugly depends on where you live. For example, Parachinar city and Kurram district saw an ugly year. Cruel. People were killed. Children were killed. While the state was busy in Islamabad with both Punjab and KP.

Unlike Parachinar, and like Palestine; Balochistan suffered the same. Nothing uglier. Ugly, but not uglier. It suffered in the microwave oven for the entire year. Equally. So, we can neither mourn nor be happy. We can be content.

The overall country went down though. Further down the pit. It was better under previous martial laws because this one has taken down everything. Even the Supreme Court. With the dummy parliament, this era would be remembered as worst martial law in the history of the country.

But who knows. I used to call the martial law of Bajwa (2016-2022) the worst one too. We never know what gift there is with another year. The current one…

By the way, imagine this: Nawaz Sharif was the PM. Then Khaqan Abbasi. Then Nasirul Mulk. Then Imran Khan. Then Shehbaz Sharif. While the whole time, Bajwa remained intact.

“Object of power is power.” Yeah, Orwell said that. In his 1984 which is our perpetual year.

All the same and old ugly ducklings are dancing to the tunes of Pindi. Duffers remained in power. Only a General Election was stolen. So? It happens every time with elections. But do you know what happens when Elections are not stolen? Yeah! Dissection. Rise of Dhaka.

The business of murders and rapes remained intact. Kids remained unsafe. Women too. Humans too. Camels too. Courts too.

All the travesties traveled from one ugliness to another for over a year for nothing. Imagine travelling hundreds of miles for travesty. But not in a hundred years of solitude. I didn’t watch that yet but yes. that novel is one of the finest reads I remember.

In all this mess, there is still a need to manage paperwork. For that, we have bureaucracy. My favorite idiots of all, because they don’t even know what they are signing. Or approving. From top north to bottom south, there is nothing but disregard of public. Through public money. And public offices. In the hands of those who shine on Twitter and Instagram after passing CSS.

Now, bureaucrats are onto another mission. To curtail pension and retirement funds. So, they are doing that. While they are working for their own good on the same hand. Let me quote Dawn here, “Punjab’s civil bureaucracy has launched a lucrative loan scheme, offering loans from Rs5 million to Rs25 million to the “PAS (Pakistan Administrative Service) and PMS (Provincial Management Service) officers only” at just two per cent interest rate, sparking allegations of favoritism and burdening taxpayers.”

Think. take a loan of Rs.25 million. At 2%. And then you don’t even need to imagine what to do with it. It’s how bureaucracy works. It scams people with their money while sitting in the most legal spaces.

Yahya once dismissed 303 bureaucrats with a single order. That is known as “Three Nought Three”. Later on, some of them were dismissed from the services forever. Today, one doesn’t even need such an order. FPSC is unconstitutional. After the 18th Amendment, Federal government cannot hire employees for provinces.

A day will come, when Faiz Ahmad Faiz will see, when all this hierarchy of bastards will be disbanded.

Anyhow. I deviate. From one bunch of idiots to another and I forget that it can lead to blasphemy. By the way, blasphemy remained blasphemous this year too. Religion remained in blood. People were killed. In police stations. In markets. In clinics. Burnt alive. Celebrations were there afterwards. The living hell is living.

Nothing changed from 2023 to 2024 except for everything getting worse. The worst version of Nawaz is back in town. Khan is in prison for exactly the same crimes. But crimes don’t matter. Criminal does. For now, Nawaz is acceptable, and Khan isn’t. Simple. And it can take a 180 turn any day. And even that won’t be a surprise anymore.

People are still looking outward. Beyond borders. Moving out. Migrating. It is not 80s and 90s of secular democracies. It is a new world of radicalization and right factions are rising from the ashes. Even in the top ranked countries of Europe and Scandinavia. Gradually, things are going to be pretty bad for expats and everyone else. The future is bad particularly in the west. Because the Muslim world and Africa have already been bombed out and robbed.

Thus, here we are. Not by choice. Never by consent. Welcome the new year of 2025. Open your arms. Close your eyes. And get ready to embrace the same ugly filth that you have been embracing since existence. Nothing is going to be a new-new.

Nietzsche said, “The text has vanished under the interpretation”. That shouldn’t happen. People do spend their lives explaining what they meant with their spoken words. Fine. If this happens with written words, that’s ugly. Step aside. Let the crowd settle. Majority of the brains are the same.

Text. Interpretation. Misinterpretation. Like it happens with all the holy texts. More text for further clarification. Further clarification for further chaos. More misinterpretation. Doubts. More doubts. Then more text. For more clarity. Then it becomes a blackhole of its own. Big giant entrance with no exit. Schools of thoughts over schools of thoughts. Jurisprudence. And then… truth vanishes from the texts.

How can it be that interpretation of a couple of decade of a holy figure never ends?

Because truth is straight. Easy to understand. Ultimately, it is your own personal journey. Your own soul searching. Your own delving into your own self for your own God. Between you and your God.

Too long. Yet too less.

I just edited a couple of sentences from the words I wrote last year today. And before that year too. And before that too. This is 4th consecutive 31st December post with sustained pessimism and realism.

The same will be done in the years to come.

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#SakiNama