In Pakistan, there’s also a ‘Bundia’ family that is repeating the same mistakes generation after generation, producing bastards and puppets to rule the country and exploiting everything and anything.
This Bundia family isn’t against the military because it’s the military itself. It’s not against the conservatives, as it is conservative. It doesn’t own farms, but the revenues from all kinds of bananas go into its account. And it can kill the labor whenever there’s a revolt. Or no revolt.
This family, which is not known by the bloodline but by the traits of similarities in uniform and atrocity, has produced so many bastards with pig tails that the number is tough to make part of the census.
And it shall rule for one hundred years. And more. In solitude.
P.S. There can be some typos. Or there can be some idiots.
Not current but perpetual affairs of Pakistan
Looks like it’s a typical game of optics on that old chessboard of boys.
Since the current two pawns are showing eyes to each other and not following the directives of the 28th Amendment, boys moved the third pawn, which was apparently stuck in a corner of the board, just to convey a message.
The message: if we can move him that much, we can move him to the end of the board too, to transform it into a queen.
The message must have been delivered, I guess. The Supreme Court, which cannot do anything until told by the adjacent city, will shut up now. Job well done, as directed.
Now the current two pawns will behave. If not, they will suffer. Like the ex-pawns did since the 1950s.
Much ado about nothing. Or maybe something. Who knows! It’s a martial dramatic society named as a country on the map of the world.
Remember that old saying of His Highness? It’s nothing more than Tom & Jerry fighting to rule the same house. Remember Tom & Jerry? We never saw the lady who actually owned the house. We only saw her boots. What a coincidence.
Looney Tunes… continues.
Dead Children Society
Parents smell their children. They inhale their presence deep into their soul. Maybe it is an addiction. Or affection. Maybe it is the fulfillment of being. Maybe it is because the two are one. Whatever the reason, it is the ultimate form of love and honesty.
Parents breathe in their kids.
And then there are those who sniff kids too. They prey on them. They plan and target and then unleash their ugliness on those who don’t even know what they are being put through.
Just like another incident. Just like the previous one. And the previous one. And the…
A raped kid has raped parents.
A bleeding kid has bleeding parents.
An unstitched kid has unstitched parents.
A dead kid has dead parents.
Just like a special kid has special parents.
Imagine yourself at the other end of the eternal torture. Parents do. They imagine this all the time.
Imagine your kid being raped. Imagine your kid in a coffin. Imagine your kid bleeding. Imagine your kid missing. Imagine your kid being lowered in the ground.
Imagine your kid’s school being live-telecasted with bullet sounds on TV.
Imagine the everyday tragedy of the children of this land.
A missing child. To a raped one. To a dead one.
It’s this society which is dead. It’s stinking. Isn’t it? Utterly grotesque.
This is the rape capital for children.
Welcome!
You can rape kids here. Anywhere. On streets. In shops. In mosques. In schools. At home. Anywhere!
So welcome again!
Again, and again!
To another 100.
To another century.
To another victim.
Everyday.
Twice a day.
Because it is a dead rapists’ society.
From incident to incident to just another incident. From child to child to just another child. From rapist to rapist to just another man.
There needs to be an overhaul of minds. Not just physical punishments. But un-learning and re-learning. With this police force, this bureaucracy, these intelligence agencies, this rotten educational system, overpopulation, and the barbed militarization of the country, Pakistan will keep producing victims. Because it’s the shed that’s breeding such minds and men.
A child in the morning. A poor person at noon. And a woman at night.
And tomorrow shall bring just another day.
Just another incident.
For us. To mourn.
Fathers
Beyond the pages of literature, poetry, short stories, and novels; are the fathers who work all their lives.
Without a promised paradise beneath their feet, they create heaven for those dependent on them. Day in and out.
Sometimes, while settling their siblings and their children, they remain unsettled all their lives. Without a hint of complaint. Because men don’t cry. They improvise. They pretend. And they work. A little longer.
There are times when they listen to wishes and demands while nothing in their pockets.
There are times when they are out going shopping with empty wallets.
Other times, they delay things until the next salary.
Sometimes, they keep on looking at the petrol bar in their vehicles, as if it would burn less if stared.
Sometimes, they are fired from their job. That alone is an intense trauma.
Sometimes, they are not fired but abused. And blamed. And insulted.
They face ugly realities. Harshness. Rent-seeking and bribes.
Of course you don’t know that. Because they won’t tell you how the food on the table was earned. With sweat and insult.
They don’t know how to make ends meet, yet they do. For you.
They don’t know how to deal with the police, yet they do. For you.
They don’t know how to handle court matters, yet they do. For you.
Loans. For you.
Other times, even after fulfilling their obligations, they have to rebuild the lives of their divorced and separated children. They have to pretend for longer. They have to act for longer. Even after the end credits have rolled.
They rarely retire. 60s. 70s. Working. Sometimes, they die while making ends meet and pretending they’re doing just fine.
In the end, if retired, they’ll be found somewhere in the corner of the house. Alone perhaps because the world they created has moved on. Here and there. Everywhere.
These fathers then create another world. A lonely one. Where they pray, and walk, and keep an old, withered hand over the children even when continents away.
And then one day, they depart. Without a tear. Without a sound. As if they never existed.
Then we remember them. In the digital world. Wishing to die early so we meet them again. Telling the world what should have been told one-on-one. With a hug. A walk. A talk. And some political disagreements.
To all the Dads, Papas, Abus, Daddies, Babas, and Fathers out there – above us and among us – living and flying. Happy Father’s Day.
CCD – The Rule of Force, Not Law
It was January 2019 when a family was gunned down by CTD. Two men, a woman and a 13-year-old were killed. An entire family with two young girls unharmed to mourn for the rest of their lives.
Such tragedies define a state. And ours is crueler than most; it loves to define itself over and over again. Dead bodies don’t hurt its conscience. Only dissent does.
Now we have CCD.
It has recently killed a 9-year-old girl. A different organization. From different political parties. But the same ruthless state. Why? Because it’s the power behind the curtains of civil and un-civil establishments that run the usual and unusual affairs.
After all, it’s a security state. That runs on gunpowder. A state whose violent tentacles are spread all around. A militarized fort with a wall of skulls around it.
A country is for people. People are not for country. This upside-down narrative flourished by nationalism is the foundation of the massive graveyards around the country. As Iqbal said,
ان تازہ خداؤں ميں بڑا سب سے وطن ہے
جو پيرہن اس کا ہے ، وہ مذہب کا کفن ہے
May a country burn to ashes, may it not survive, if its thirst for the blood of its own people never subsides.
CCD has killed and thrashed a lot of innocent people over time. We are reading. Every now and then, an innocent person is gunned down. Because there is no law and order to follow them or to be followed by them.
You cannot bypass the law. Because if you do – even with the right intentions – it will lead to chaos. This land is already a jungle, and wolves are ruling it with wolfish instincts.
We have seen the bloodshed of Rao Anwar. We remember his 444 extrajudicial murders.
No wonder they fight over toilets. Such trash and poop they are. This actually happened. A CSP had a tussle with an MPA’s son over the use of toilet. Initially, MPA tried to cool down the matter. Then he didn’t. in the end, MPA’s poop won over the CSP’s trash. A very competitive match though.
Any organization, action, or team that passes the laws and regulations, is not a relief. It will lead to chaos. If CCD helps tackle crime by bypassing laws and courts, it will haunt us in the end.
As Sir Thomas More said that if you cut down every law to hunt your enemies, what will protect you when power turns and comes for you? Here’s the exact dialogue from the movie “A Man of All Seasons”:
William Roper: So, now you give the Devil the benefit of law!
Sir Thomas More: Yes! What would you do? Cut a great road through the law to get after the Devil?
William Roper: Yes, I’d cut down every law in England to do that!
Sir Thomas More: Oh? And when the last law was down, and the Devil turned ’round on you, where would you hide, Roper, the laws all being flat? This country is planted thick with laws, from coast to coast, Man’s laws, not God’s! And if you cut them down, and you’re just the man to do it, do you really think you could stand upright in the winds that would blow then? Yes, I’d give the Devil benefit of law, for my own safety’s sake!
Laws have loopholes. Courts fail too. But that doesn’t mean you make them null and void. You build them. You improve them over time. Gradually. The ways we have adopted are the ways of a jungle. Or perhaps, even jungles have better law and order.
The law is not an obstacle to justice; it is the only thing that makes justice possible.
The moment a state allows its agents to become judge, jury, and executioner, every citizen becomes a potential victim. Today it is a suspected criminal. Tomorrow it is a dissident. The day after, it is an innocent child caught in the crossfire.
No nation can build peace upon fear, nor order upon impunity. If those entrusted to uphold the law are permitted to stand above it, then the greatest threat to society is no longer crime; it is the state itself.
The Wounds
How can I explain this to you? How can I make you feel what I feel? How can I make the sunshine over your arms, the way I intend the universe to behave, in a perfect setting, so I may make you feel with my explanations the utter desire and longing of being with her.
And then be humiliated by her.
She put pen to words. She conceived them through him. Me. Even if she hated them. Sometimes.
To be burnt with a matchstick. Sometimes, a paper. Sometimes, a short story. And sometimes, a novella.
Even then, worth it.
Do you know you won’t be able to read those pieces. Never. They are not even ashes anymore. They don’t exist. The magnum opus – gone.
But once, they did. And they made a hell of a play. A smile and a tear. A longing in her eyes. For the writer – though the writer was nothing but a source. She did all the wonders. She conceived. Through him. chapter by chapter.
How can I explain this to you? How can I make you feel what I feel?
I’ve seen her naked. I’ve seen her soul. I’ve seen her desires. I’ve seen her darkness. Her wounds. Her stretchmarks. Her perfectly imperfect formations. Her scent and smell. Her taste. Scars. Light. Darkness. Everything.
I’ve seen her naked. Right in front of me. Not in darkness, but in light. Not in light, but in darkness.
How can I snap and swap to make you feel the rhythm divine?
Of course, I miss her. But do I want to be with her? No.
I just want to miss her.
And keep on missing her.
So, the wounds may never heal.
Because healing is widely exaggerated. It’s pain, separation, and divorce, that matter. Not otherwise.
Maybe someday. In another world. When we are both not entirely messed up before making an insane point of chaos.
We’re a Generation of Men raised by Maids
Tyler Durden said, “We’re a generation of men raised by women. I’m wondering if another woman is really the answer we need.”
And His Highness thought, “What about the generation of men being raised by maids?”
Oh. Freudian slip. Nip. Sorry. Does that hurt? Oh Father! Forgive… them!
But don’t you see the evolutionary – devolutionary, actually – downfall of the species being laid out through the passport to heaven?
Instead of mending gender roles and taking the corrective path, absolute destruction has been chosen. That is being imposed. Otherwise, there would be labels. This and that. Can’t give examples; would spoil the fun.
Gone are the days of:
!مائے نی میں کنوں آکھاں
Instead, the next generation of poets will eulogize their maids. Motherly maids.
It’s not a generalization. Not a sweeping statement. So, scratch your knees while reading this.
Fathers will remain fathers. Bad, corrupt, lazy, angry… but pretty much the same, with a slight inclination towards betterment. They have modernized themselves. Adopted new roles. Mended their ways. Corrected old mistakes. Buried many of their fathers’ behaviors – to pave a better home for the next generation.
But the thing is, you can’t impose. Just like it’s wrong for men to impose themselves and their wishes, it’s wrong the other way too.
And most importantly, as Ghamidi has clearly mentioned, the single biggest purpose of marriage is to raise the next generation in a protective and safe environment. The rest of the marriage ingredients – love, affection, deep internal regard, and the cringe stuff – are crap. Illogical. Inorganic. Unnatural. By sheer hit-and-trial maybe, some out of hundred work. That too in the short run. In the long run, it’s old age, vested interests, lack of options, dependency, self-image, kids, and impotence.
You’ve heard about daddy issues. Mother issues. Imagine a future of maid issues. Kink.
This will go bad. For sure. And honestly, it should. Please. Be my guest – out.
It’s About One Person. YOU!
And then we see images of Palestinian youths smiling as they are taken to the gallows, after the Israeli parliament voted last month for the death penalty for Palestinian prisoners. Those smiles carry the real power — the power of the undefeated.
In Ireland, a candle placed in the window signalled to travelling priests that the home was a safe haven for Catholics, who were persecuted in Britain from 1534 to the 1800s.
A noblewoman Perpetua and her slave Felicity were thrown into the Roman arena with wild animals because they refused to renounce their Christian faith.
The Abyssinian, Sumayyah bint Khayyat, considered the first martyr of Islam, was killed by Abu Jahl after refusing to renounce her belief in Allah and the Prophet Muhammad (PBUH).
In the 1980s, an unknown man stood defiantly with two shopping bags, bringing a column of tanks to a halt near Tiananmen Square, Beijing.
Aitzaz Hasan, a 15-year-old Pakistani student, gave his life to save hundreds of students by tackling a suicide bomber before he could enter the school.
During Partition riots, many Hindus and Sikhs saved Muslims, and Muslims saved Hindus and Sikhs.
The British politician William Wilberforce led a campaign against the British slave trade for 20 years, until the passage of the Slave Trade Act in 1807.
Abdus Sattar Edhi, from the age of 20 until his death in 2016, devoted his life to sheltering the homeless and the abandoned, and established the world’s largest volunteer ambulance network.
Naeem Sadiq takes up the cause of underpaid workers.
Journalist Julian Assange, at great personal cost, established Wikileaks to host data from whistleblowers.
Japanese activist Furusawa Yusuke has held daily solo demonstrations in Tokyo in solidarity with Palestine for over three years.
Congolese customs worker Floribèrt Bwana Chui became a hero after he was assassinated for refusing rancid rice from Rwanda into the country.
Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi’s Non-Cooperation Movement included the surrender of British titles, resignations from government posts, refusal to pay taxes and boycotts of British goods.
The boycott of products with links to Israel is an opportunity for ordinary people to register their protest.
Conscientious objectors and prisoners of conscience faced imprisonment, such as Muhammad Ali, Nelson Mandela and the many political prisoners in Pakistani jails.
The graffiti artist Banksy is known for his guerrilla art, from painting “We’re bored of fish” in London Zoo’s penguin enclosure, to painting ladders on the Palestinian West Bank wall and an image of children digging a hole through the wall.
Mursaleen Khan Sherwani, owner of a perfume stall in Karachi which was reportedly burnt down seven times when he refused to pay protection money, responded with “Perfume Chowk” graffiti all over the city.
The poet Habib Jalib recited poetry in public spaces, rejecting martial law.
William Shakespeare challenged conventions to change English literature forever.
The American clergyman A.J. Muste held a candle and stood outside the White House every night during the Vietnam War. In response to a reporter’s question, Muste said, “Oh I don’t do this to change the country. I do this so the country won’t change me.”
Above are fragments from the latest article of Durriya Kazi on Dawn.
Let me add a quote from Ravish Kumar, “Resistance is not a matter of choice. Not all battles are fought for victory. Some are fought simply to tell the world that someone was there on the battlefield.”
It’s about one person. One idea. One art. One word. One book. One stand. And one: YOU. You are enough to make a butterfly effect. Just remember, beyond herd and crowd, dissent and hate, you matter if you have a crazy enough way to stand out.
There are people who tell you to be Nietzsche’s Übermensch. On the other hand, they tell you that messiah syndrome isn’t good. Both aren’t good and both aren’t bad. That’s beyond good and evil. It’s all about what you believe, what you did, and what you said on that particular given time period.
The Example
You all know the story of Umar ibn al-Khattab when he was publicly questioned by a man about the extra piece of cloth the caliph had received. Remember that? Ever thought about who the hero was?
Both were.
Umar, for answering the question and keeping public accountability open and transparent. Without using the typical modes of fear, arrest, subjugation, violence, etc.
But that man who questioned him set an example for the rest.
Your job, even if an Umar is ruling you, is to question him. To criticize the ruler. To keep a thorough check and balance. You must ask questions.
Your job is not to appease them. It never was. If they do something good, applaud; then move on to the next critical question.
Criticism is for the one in power. It’s simple and fundamental.
Right now, Pakistan is into awe. Inspired by something that isn’t going to change the life of common people. Inflation, electricity crisis, declining economy, population challenges, water scarcity, joblessness, anti-people constitutional amendments, rule by fear and violence, extrajudicial abductions and killings, and whatnot.
More than half of the country is territory that even Pakistanis would think twice about traveling to. Yet, all praises. All claps. Like a herd of dumb sheep.
These flatterers, with subtle criticism and consistent comparison with the one in jail, are cunning to the core. Pathetic. Intellectually – if they are – dishonest. They are eulogists, sycophants, and are enjoying their turn in making bucks.
There were some flatterers who made money through the same methodology from 2018-2022. They have been replaced by a new set of flatterers who are making money since 2023. New feces. Same stink. Yet, they believe, and they argue, that they are better and they are different.
Nonetheless, remember that nameless person who asked, “We each got the same cloth. How did you get enough for a full robe?”
You must ask the same questions, even though the difference now is not a piece of cloth but entire generations serving another generations with sweat, blood, butter, and soul.
The Unsealed Nectar
Strange are the ways of God.
Not all books lying at home get read. Just like that, ‘The Sealed Nectar – Ar-Raheeq Al-Makhtum’ by Safiur Rahman Mubarakpuri was snoozing there for years. I never thought I would move back to this genre.
But then, of course… strange are the ways.
It happened in a unique yet beautiful setting: 50 pages per session, to complete it in nine sittings. I had to orate the book to a very close and special audience of one, who is somehow a page ahead of me without peeking at the book and is waiting for the next in line. Surah Maryam. Christ. Moses. Waraqah ibn Nawfal. Bilal ibn Rabah.
“Woe to every slanderer and backbiter.” [104:1]
Feel that in Arabic. Al-Humazah is the one who publicly mocks a person… and Al-Lumazah is the one who secretly declares the defects of people and defames them.
Just like she loved me secretly but hated me publicly. Sorry – that wasn’t related.
Anyway, there is such beauty in the two words, which aren’t polite in this context. This verse is my daily reminder on the phone to display at 10 am. Yet…
Such is that beautiful book – it is engaging, well-paced, to the point, and informative.
It reminded me of K. L. Gauba (Kanhaiya Lal Gauba, who became Khalid Latif Gauba), who wrote ‘The Prophet of the Desert’ in 1934, which is written in a unique style.
How did idolatry enter Arabia when it was a monotheistic region of Ibrahim’s Kaaba?
It was Amr ibn Luhayy in the 3rd century AD who adopted this idea during his travels. Then we had to discuss who among us could have been Luhayy, and we agreed on a mutual friend. Just as we couldn’t fathom the extreme resilience of Bilal ibn Rabah, Ammar ibn Yasir, Yasir ibn Amir, Sumayyah, and others who suffered torture but stood by the words of Prophet Muhammad.
This isn’t about the book to be honest. It’s about the call where the command had to be accepted. Just like that:
“Read!”
Ending this on some fragments from the book that can make a little sense of today:
The migration of the Jews from Palestine to Arabia passed through two phases:
First, as a result of the pressure to which they were exposed, the destruction of the their temple, and taking most of them as captives to Babylon, at the hand of the King Bukhtanassar [Nebuchadnezzar II]. In the year 587 BC some Jews left Palestine for Hijaz.
The second phase started with the Roman occupation of Palestine in 70 AD. This resulted in a tidal wave of Jewish migration into Hijaz. Here, they made proselytes of several tribes, built forts and castles, and lived in villages.
In 523 AD, Dhu Nawas, a Jew, despatched a great campaign against the Christians of Najran in order to force them to convert into Judaism. Having refused to do so, they were thrown alive into a big ditch where a great fire had been set. The Quran referred to this event:
“Cursed were the people of the ditch.” [85:4]
This aroused great wrath among the Christians, and especially the Roman emperors, who not only instigated the Abyssinians (Ethiopians) against Arabs but also assembled a large fleet which helped the Abyssinian army, of 70,000 warriors, to effect a second conquest of Yemen in 525 AD, under the leadership of Eriat, who was granted rulership over Yemen, a position he held until he was assassinated by one of his army leaders, Abraha, who, after reconciliation with the king of Abyssinia, took rulership over Yemen and, later on, deployed his soldiers to demolish Kaaba, and, hence, he and his soldiers came to be known as the “Men of the Elephant”.
The Event of the Elephant took place in the month of Muharram, fifty or fifty five days before the birth of Prophet Muhammad which corresponded to late February or early March 571 AD.