This Whole System is Out of Order

In the name of the constitution. Article ABC. Section D. Sub-section E. Paragraph ii/ante. States. The state has power. Authorized by the sovereign. That sovereignty belongs to God. So, challenging it is treason.

Torn apart. Abrogated. Need of necessity. Sensitive times. Security state. Secured. Dismissed.

Heathenism!

Adjourned.

Dismissed. Closed. Ordered. Need of time. In the name of unforeseen circumstances.

Constitution this. Article that. Section this. Sub-section that. Para number X with unknown ante in your arse. Did you get this? No one gets this.

I don’t get the judgments. And the orders. And their jargon. Colonized English. Outdated rubbish.

Disgusting.

“You are out of order. This court is out of order. This whole trial is out of order. The verdict is out of order. The judge is out of order.”

“Order! Order! The court can put you behind bars.”

“You order me? I order you. You and your order is out of order. And the bars… In your arse.”

Sometimes, it feels like His Highness is buried in that office-cum-tomb of the un-Civil Secretariat of Lahore. With Anarkali. Where bulks and bulks of old gazettes, journals, nothings, and orders are placed to provide evidence that nothing has changed since 1857.

Not even noting. Please. Put up. Urgent. Amend. Seen. Submitted pls.

O’ shut up please!

“Anarkali! How you doing?”

Random Numbness (Dec 2022)

Things became boring. Bajwa left ceremoniously. Faiz left unceremoniously. No DG. No DJ. No two sad faces in uniform to meddle in politics without meddling in politics.

Khan is left with nothing but mistakes to remember. It’s been over a week since he announced resignations from two provincial assemblies, but nothing.

Doesn’t even feel like mocking him anymore. With Faiz gone, he’s pretty much done. Until he finds another Faiz.

Meanwhile, the little Sharif is still ruling the country with his hand gestures. No middle finger. Only hands. He’s on top with the new Chief in town. No worries for him until someone sees the boy in a mirror. Snake. Like all the previous snakes who had milk and then they wanted the cow too.

Aren’t they the holy cows themselves?

Then is Zardari. Looks irrelevant but isn’t. His ‘khudday line’ aged well for the boy who was thinking to rule till 2029 – but ended in 2022. Couldn’t see his due 2023.

And then is our Fazlu. He’s sad about Joyland. Doesn’t want to ride along. Couldn’t handle his tongue about women. Typical. Why do these men with beards have to sniff every arse in every town? This business of sniffing needs some scholarly researched articles. To cite. For bickering.

It is boring. There is no fun left. April was the best month of the year. With Joker replacing a Joker and all the midnight drama and fun and everyone seeing the actual culprits who were named and shamed throughout the year.

Blessed days are always remembered when they are gone.

Honestly, let’s halt. For a moment. Omit April.

Khan would have installed Faiz. For sure. The later would have re-installed the former in Fall 2023. Faiz would have given an extension in 2026 to 2029. And Khan would have all the time and all the watches to enjoy and sell. By that time, Ghafoor would have updated the game to 9th Generation warfare with so many unemployed youth sniffing each other’s arse online.

But the dream turned out to be a nightmare with all the relevant boys becoming irrelevant. Only the Joker in Islamabad stays intact with the country breaking down financially. What a shame! For comedy. Of errors.

Anyway. With external loans around $99 billion, the country is on a verge. Still, loans are being taken for roads and unnecessary development projects. Extremely useless loans which are not going to help achieving SDGs or sustainability.

For a peek, go to the World Bank’s official website and see the portfolio of Pakistan and the loan-based projects this country is running. Useless. Pathetic. With billions to be paid in years to come.

Meanwhile, local development is designed only for the sake of ribbons to be cut before the election time. Right on time.

Ah! Solutions. Yes. You crave for solutions. 1st rule of the page is, do not talk about solutions. 2nd rule of the page is, DO NOT TALK ABOUT SOLUTIONS. 3rd rule is, to know the problems, accept them with heart. 4th rule is, to unite with relatable common macro problems. 6th rule is yet to be designed. It will be something a little closer to the history of errors. 7th rule will be something around solutions. 5th rule is left intentionally for unintentional needs and wants.

Until then, suffer!

Ugly Game of Chess

It’s an ugly game of chess. Pawns move forward and keep on dying. Some are replaced. Meanwhile, the King remains safe.

When one B was exposed in 2020 by the same Noor, the pawn in power – PTI – defended him and gave him a clean chit within days. No FIA. No trial. No Court. No dragging anywhere.

Now another B has been exposed by the same Noor, and the whole new cabinet of pawns – PDM – is defending him. The previous pawns are replaced with the new ones to defend the King.

The irony here is that the pawns were supposed to be behind the King and the King was supposed to defend the whole chessboard.

Defending the defenders of their wrongdoings and getting oneself clean in the later part is a sad fate of this nation. One pawn – who is not in power – blames and begs the King simultaneously.

The other pawn – currently in power – did the same thing until he got his dummy power of premiership again. Everyone wants to be a dummy pawn here because intellect is dead and there is no horse to make a strategic 2.5 move to halt the King and his key agency, the Queen.

It’s as ugly as our famous literature we proudly claim to have read. Like Shahab Nama. After spending all his life as a pawn to the King, he became pious when he had no post left to undo is wrongdoings. He blamed all others and awarded a piously clean chit to himself with a ghostly figure of 90. The book even sells today and makes a philosophical and intellectual impact on the reader. Sigh!

Misery all around. From opening a book to hiding books.

Hence, here we are. Struggling all our lives and paying installments to get a plot to sell it in the later half of our lives to make something out of it for the next generation. Meanwhile, the King and his Queen get plots worth of billions with offshore assets with pizza dough in their own pizza shops all over the world.

And once the game is over for the King with the claim that he gave all his life to defend the chessboard, he leaves the chessboard and settles in another chessboard because the one he defended all his life is not secure enough to live the rest of his life.

Irony. This game is ugly. Boring. Takes a lot of time. And it’s always about the bad moves and motives.

And the other bad move is His Highness intended to write the first four small paragraphs. An open wound bleeds profusely.

Stand up. Turn around. And dare to burn the citadel down.

We don’t know the authenticity of the news but let’s stand on the right side.

There was news of a slap in April 2022.
There is news of a slap in November 2022.

Whatever side you take, the receiver was a Prime Minister of this country. In both scenarios. Your PM or not your PM but the PM.

And ideally, such hands who had the audacity to be raised on a PM, just because of an institutional power of uniform; must be held, twisted, and broken by the shoulder. Or maybe amputated.

Must be settled once and for all.

Some were hanged. Some were shot down. Some died mysteriously. Some were martial lawd. Some were thrown out of the country. And now this news of slaps.

Must be dealt with without shaming and shaking.

By the way, if you enjoyed it once out of the two times, you are a hypocrite. And if you enjoyed it both times, you are an illiterate.

As someone remineded His Highness of his own words:
Stand up. Turn around. And dare to burn the citadel down.

Hopeless and Hapless

Toshakhana. March to the capital. TV programs on old scandals. Gogi’s corruption. Smoke and mirrors. Smoke and mirrors.

On the other side – other than these loose talks – Pakistan is on the verge of financial collapse. It’s almost bankrupt.

Let’s move gradually. International rating agencies have already downgraded Pakistan. IMF is with a knife on our jugular vein. Funds from Saudia are not coming. They said no. No from China too after messing with CPEC for years, particularly under Pizza Bajwa’s reign of terror. ADB funds of $1.5 billion – which we received weeks back – have already been dusted.

$1.5 billion is almost Rs.333 billion. I’m sure not a single billion has floated in the flooded regions of the country. Apropos, flooded water is staying this winter. The situation is going to get worse but it’s fine. If you change your TV channel, things change. Nothing happens if you switch.

Cricket is over. No problem. Switch to FIFA. Useless indulgences never end. Never. Even then, Messi must win the World Cup. It’s vital.

Anyway. We have wrong priorities. Wrong men. Wrong place. Wrong time. Perfectly dark comedy.

The Joker in the PM House has no clue. He is clueless. He thought he can walk here and there like he used to do in Punjab, and with a couple of suspensions, things will be fine. He brought Miftah and failed. The elder Joker sent his Dar home to do magic. Daronomics. Dark comics. Failing again.

One reason for being here today is Dar. Not a sole reason but surely a reason.

The blame is not on one individual or political party. Pakistan has been trying and testing big names in the Finance Ministry, but all have failed. They all failed because they all were rich elites. They all had their eyes on the wrong side. And that view never had public-at-large in perspective.

Asad Umar – who was promoted as the Financial Messiah from 2013 to 2018 – took three months to fail. He was a complete lie in himself. As a CEO of Engro from 2004-2012, he made a cartel to increase the prices of Urea from Rs.850 per 50 kg bag to Rs.1,580 in 2010 (an 86% increase). CCP fined Rs.8.6 billion on Fauji Fertilizer and Engro Fertilizers on making this cartel. Now imagine, Asad Umar actually working for poor, lower, and middles classes of this country. He can’t.

Same were the other stories. Shamshad Akhtar. Hafeez Sheikh. Hammad Azhar. Shaukat Tarin. Miftah Ismail. And then ultimately to the point from where it started, Ishaq Dar. A complete vicious circle.

Before all these, we had Shaukat Aziz too. He messed things uglier than all these.

The point is, the country is crumbling and there is no one to save. And no one can. These rich Finance Ministers have nothing to lose. And they have no idea of how the system works for the wellbeing of the public. All they know is to keep on asking more and more from outside.

When Khan was on right track – long before coming to power – he had a clear narrative of not borrowing. And that narrative can work, as it did in other countries. It can work anytime in this country with right priorities on agenda and cutting useless costs.

Even now, in all provinces of Pakistan, there are development schemes which are utilizing billions of rupees only to cut ribbons for the sake of future elections. The parliamentarians keep on bugging Administrative Departments to have something in their locality so that they can cut ribbon before elections. Sometimes, even empty rooms and buildings are constructed for nothing. Keeps on happening. Continuously. Billions going in drain.

And Administrative Secretaries – my gorgeous bureaucrats – are so pathetic in their big seats that they can’t sustain with ‘no’. They say ‘no’ to powerless. ‘Yes’ to powerful. ‘Testicular Massage’ to the absolute powerful. Bureaucracy is a hierarchy of bastards. That functions around lickable testicles, even when there are no testes involved. Remember Marla had testicular cancer?

Hence, even public servants cannot represent public.

The system needs an overhauling. Coming back to Nawaz, Zardari, Khan in a loop is not going to solve the problem. Coming back to Dar after testing dumb old guys in Finance will never solve a problem. They are all businesspeople. They are bourgeoise. No proletariat is there to represent you.

Now coming to the crux. Even these all are not to be blamed alone.

Intelligence agency has already started examining bureaucrats. So, the one who lick best are given higher priorities. So that they may keep on licking. And intelligence is part of the dumb boys. The boys who rule and keep a string attached to everyone single politician and judge. It’s a militarized cage with no escape in sight.

It’s like a brothel. The prostitutes are inside, providing service to the public that can afford. A pimp outside is keeping an eye on all the guests and keeping track on the financial matters. And above all of them is a Naika – with the noticeable absolute power. But no. The SHO in the police station in the adjacent street is the man with absolute power. Apparently, he is safeguarding everyone, but actually, he is the Pimp-in-Charge of every fuck that happens around.

There is no solution. Not in the short run. Not soon.

The shackles of these attached strings to the private videos and calls needs to be shattered. Blackmailing shouldn’t be able to blackmail and blackmailers should be exposed. Puppet politicians and their puppet leaders should be defeated at polls. New and your politicians with a vision, manifesto and narrative must be tried. But that isn’t going to happen. Not any time soon. Because the SHO won’t let them win.

Nothing’s going to change. May be, another Summer will help to dry the flooded lands. But aren’t Monsoon to knock again during Summers? May be in another life. When we don’t have to born again.

#SakiNama

You will be the King, Simba!

By the time they’ll reach Islamabad to demand elections, the time for elections would already be there. What will they demand then? Delayed elections?

And if they are still moving for F, then F would be very much eFFing angry because November is half way done. It’s surrender more than November.

What if they are marching for the sake of marching? What else to do? There’s nothing much.

Meanwhile, the brothers Grimm embraced each other in London. Kisses on the cheeks. Typical. Italian’s kinda stuff. For what? For chief? That’s cheap. Apparently, they also have nothing else to do except to decide about the next boy.

With November falling, ideas are falling too. B is on his way to his unnatural exit. The extension – approved by all the puppets together who never were together ever for anything except this extension – proved to be nothing but an embarrassment. For all.

The other B – who never became a chief and never went into extension – proved to be better off. He made pizzas and established a billion dollar empire without even providing any receipts. Clever. Not that clever but clever enough.

Anyway, it’s boring. There’s no more drama at the moment but there’s this suspense about the new boy. Who will be the king? Every Mufasa has a Simba who is destined to become the king of the jungle. We have 6 Simbas. But here lies another problem. This is jungle – yes it is – but there are no lions to rule. Some cunning jackals and that’s all.

You can wait till the end of the month. Mute your screens. Nothing credible or informative there. Just bickering of the same bickerings in a loop. Wait.

Wait for the boy to be selected so he may select the government and the vicious circle of selection may play on repeat forever and ever.

Dumbfucks

After the ouster, the loudmouth base became anti-establishment. Putting on the seat is fine. Kicking out isn’t.

It’s national hypocrisy but not debating that for now.

Only that the loudmouths are just dumbfucked how the boys can be against their own people.

Ironically, the boys are dumbfucked exactly the same way; like how these dumbfucks got against dumbfucks.

The two sides of the same strings are just curved enough that the mouth is in direct stare with the anus. Without blinking. Yes. Can’t blink.

But that’s not all.

In this war of duffers with idiots, there is another species wandering in between the two to pick some leftovers. That species is not dumbfucked right now. They are just doing what they agitated for 3.5 years in reverse mode. That’s all. No mind. No narrative. No blame to be dumb.

Meanwhile, the mess is being thrown all over the land, through fan of mismanagement. Flood victims remained victims. Their generations will remain victims. No money for them. Meanwhile, boys got an additional Rs.30.8 billion.

Yes. Stay patriotic even if you have to wash your dirty laundry with dirty water.

Missing people, who the loudmouths are talking about these days, are being ignored by those who were talking about them when they were not in power.

It’s simple. Missing people are road to power. And missing the issue of missing people is the road to sustain in power. Like the ex-Minister did.

Now, she talks about raids in her home and unidentifiable identified men not in uniform as potential abductors on CCTV. When she was in power, she was not ready to be blackmailed. She’s so good.

Anyway. This is all so dumbfucking. I can go on and on and on and you may like the way it is going on but that’s not amusing.

Two solutions. One is to lie down in front of the tanks and lay down your lives and live happily ever after in heaven. Because, this land ain’t going to change.

Second is to wait for a Messiah, unlike these compromised ones, to take you out of this mess; and keep waiting because that ain’t gonna happen. So, die waiting and land in heaven and…

Honestly, just wanted to write the first four paragraphs. Not even that. It’s much boring. Waiting for Wednesday to mess things up with you all.

Like a Random Dead Body

The ultimate tragedy of the incident was the man who died on the spot. Just randomly. His three little kids tried to wake him up for a long time but he was gone.

Gone too far. Never to come back to hug his kids again. Never to come back to walk home again. Never to take his kids out again.

Gone. With a bullet. A bullet of hate in a widely polarized society where religion and politics – together – play a mayhem of blood and bodies. Dead bodies.

A generation is lost. A home is lost. He may not be even a supporter or a hater. He may have been there just to see the political circus. To let his kids enjoy; only to end up dead for the final sorrow.

This world is harsh and ugly. And it’s too random. Kids can lose parents and parents can lose kids just like a ticker scrolling horizontally on your TV screen without you bothering to read it. Missed a ticker? Who cares?

But it’s not a ticker. It’s a home. Gone and missed forever.

That was the only tragedy that we all missed tonight. Like usual. Like another dead body.

Lynching at Machar Colony

It’s like a disease that’s flowing with the blood throughout the body. This disease is the people of this impure land.

Two young engineers went to Machar Colony in Karachi for some work. They were accused of abducting a child. Then people gathered. Mob justice prevailed and both were killed.

With bricks.
With sticks.

This is as much as it takes to get killed.

Mob justice and lynchings have been common here. Two young boys were killed in Sialkot which still evaporates the hope of living in this world. Those two were beaten and then hung upside down on a tree to be tortured easily.

The same was done in a recent incident of blasphemy when a Sri Lankan national was killed because otherwise religion would have died.

The same way, a Christian couple was killed and burnt alive in a brick kiln in Kot Radha Kishan because of an accusation of blasphemy. They were accused of burning the Quran. Those who burnt the couple actually burnt the Quran. No one realized anything.

First, there must be a fear of being taken by a mob. Then, some strange shocks of happenings. Then beatings. Pain. One by one. Inch by inch. Every part of the body. Sticks and stones. Flames. The smell of the body being torn apart. Like a BBQ being prepared in a jungle of wolves.

Maybe they all wished for early death. Maybe they all prayed for death at first strike. Maybe they cursed their lives. Their existence. Or maybe they cursed the mob while begging them to be forgiven.

But curses don’t change fate. Curses don’t make the heavens fall.

This is it. This is life. And this death. The two can meet anywhere, anyday, among a mob, that wants dead bodies to make a point. Like in the Machar Colony yesterday. The point can be anything. Anything absurd.

May the two not rest in peace. They can’t. Rest in pieces. May the curse fall. May this whole universe get fucked once and for all.

RIP Arshad Sharif

Karima Baloch was killed in Canada in 2020. Sajid Hussain was killed in Sweden in 2020. Remember that? Also remember your stance and how you all supported that they were not part of dirty games of assassinations.

They were. Now you know.

Saleem Shehzad was killed in 2011. Mysterious conditions. Was done and dusted for his journalism.

Sabeen Mehmud was silenced in 2015 because there was no other way to shut her.

The list can be a long one. Never-ending. Since the beginning. Because even Fatima Jinnah was silenced and her book was not allowed to be published for decades. And then an edited version was published. After her death. Another mysterious death.

Anyway. Here we are. You may disagree but you must stand with anyone being tortured. You must defend to death the right to say for everyone – even when you disagree.

Arshad Sharif’s murder must be a wakeup call. Must be. Otherwise, we are already bricks in the wall and nothing really matters. Except the narrative and its guards with fragile egos.

The message is clear. Dissent isn’t allowed. Not at all. A thousand disagreements with the way he did his job, but the way he has been murdered is disgusting to the core. This state is dead and it stinks. It will keep on stinking and will suffocate others too.

Rest in peace Arshad Sharif.