A hungry man robs. You don’t like it, but you do understand it.
A threatened person lies. You don’t like it, but you do understand it.
A deprived woman steals food. You don’t like it, but you understand it.
A poor child takes someone’s toy home. You don’t like it, but you do understand it.
Hamas attacks Israel. 1,200 casualties. Condemned. But you do understand that it decades of atrocities led to this outrage. No need to explain this. You understand.
Kashmiris, Yeminis, Iraqis, Afghans, Naxalites, Adivasis… you understand.
Every religion has stories of war. Of standing for what they believed was right. Fighting against the mighty powers with marginal forces.
Religions survived on the bodies of those who died in the sacred and holy wars. You understand that too.
Ironically, every religion was “blasphemous” in the beginning for the already established religions – yet it didn’t punish itself of blasphemy. It stood. It fought. It carved its path through history of empires, deaths, wars and peace.
Don’t awe and blink as if I’m the only… You do understand this too, don’t you?
Thus whispered Zarathustra!
Unsimilarly – I’m neologist, nothing wrong with the word – you become a pious hypocrite. A nationalist creep. A patriotic discriminator.
Balochistan is more than the derogatory trends you see on social media. It is more than it is censored on mainstream media. It has a history of deprivation, blood, and dead bodies. Of stolen rights. Of denied resources. Of ego-driven military operations. Divide and rule. Missing people. Terrorism. Fanaticism. Experimentation. Religion-based hate.
So much so that common people avoid to visit altogether.
But uncommon people – civil and uncivil establishments – lust for this cruel concubine as it makes you rich quicker than real estate files of DHA. Not just smuggled cars, petroleum, minerals, dead bodies, and traitors come out of it… pizzas come of it too. Million-dollar pizzas.
So when they raise their weapons… condemn. But understand. Understand their shrieks, their anger, their raised voice, their slurs, their tears… and their bullets.
They didn’t pick weapons by choice. We forced them to. We set the stage. We sold them weapons. We turned war into business. They die; we make money. And of course, military courts and budget.
By “we” you do understand what I mean.
I could list dates, numbers, and the dead – but you already know. Even as you camouflage yourself in hypocrisy.
If all you can do is lick boots and hump on the state’s narrative – moan and own. But do it alone and choose not to vomit everywhere.
With that, have a blessed last Jumma of Ramzan. You prayed your way. I prayed this way.
