Who let the dogs out?

I thought I would leave these topics for some time but then they do something, and you cannot miss the content. And if nothing, I am blessed to see the comedy of bureaucrats on routine. And I love that. I would choose this comedy any day over Abhishek Upamanyu. Kidding. That was sarcasm. A language I haven’t mastered.

You know, they tried to get criminals from Katcha. Katchay kay daaku. Police planned to circle the area and the military planned to come from the top. When you come from top, it’s called riding. Anyway, it failed. Couldn’t do anything. And that’s just one area. Land on all sides. Neighboring no other country or sea. Nothing. Just two pathetic forces at display of disgrace.

And then, they thought what they could do? So, they had a fight. I totally love that. When villains are fighting each other, I just enjoy the show and I like blood. But I want equality in that too. The damages should be equal.

Police getting beaten up by the army is not an unusual thing. It’s a usual act. Happens routinely. Sometimes, the entire police station is turned upside down. It’s a sad thing. Officially, I condemn. How dare they?

Happy? Ok!

This would bring nothing. You cannot take those who have the ultimate authority and monopoly over violence. That’s our military. They don’t care even if they have to kill on live TV. They install cameras in your bedrooms. They kidnap anyone anywhere. They can make villain hero and a hero villain overnight. They have it all. All the expertise to win locally, yet to lose otherwise.

Remember that incidence when a Wapda lineman was killed for disconnecting meter of an army officer? Tell me what happened afterwards. Nothing. At least, they didn’t kill anyone now. All they got is bad publicity and you may never know if they wanted it intentionally or not. This we can never know because, after all – they are duffers too.

Having said this, His Highness – being His Highness- condemns this officially and would direct the authorities to submit a report. Otherwise, I loved that. How couldn’t I?

And how couldn’t you?

Last thing. I wrote some different (and serious) stuff in the last 6-7 days. You didn’t notice. Now, because an idiotic act of least interesting people / institutions has been mentioned, you will outpour your emotions. Like a crowd. Or maybe not, because this has been mentioned.

Those 50-60 people who read those words… are the beautiful minds.

Eid & Tragedy

If a tragedy strikes during the Eid days, all the remaining Eids become tragic afterwards, till death do them apart. Eid brings pain and nothing else afterwards. Be it Eid of Summers or Winters. It hurts.

A traffic warden died yesterday. On chand raat, while on duty. Had a three-year-old daughter who was taken away from him by his wife. He was supposed to meet her on Eid day. Apart from his cumbersome father’s role – and a professional duty – he was a son too. A brother too. And a father figure as he helped his mother raising her other children. And just when he settled his siblings, he departed. Was not allowed to settle his daughter. Was hit, crushed, and left. Died. Or murdered.

For you, it’s just a statistic. A number. A traffic warden. Not the traffic warden. A father. Not the father. A son. Not the son. A brother. Not the brother.  

Or it can be a newspaper story for you. A TV ticker for any news channel. Newspaper story will die in a day. Tickers will end in two days. And that would be that. A life gone by. Crushed and dusted.

A life that was already tragic for a father and his daughter, ended just like that. And nothing happened. No earthquake. No tsunami. No eclipse. No apocalypse.

The left ones will mourn every chand raat from now onwards. And every Eid too. That’s how some Eids are. Tragic. For a lot of people.  

And that’s how our lives are too. Just like a cat crossing a road and getting crushed by a vehicle. At random. With no dots to connect and with no loss to grieve except for the scratches on the bumper. Or maybe not a cat, as it sounds fancy. Maybe a dog.

There were some right here with us on last Eid. Their profiles, numbers, DPs, and memories are still here; but we can’t call or talk to them.

We had it like they will always be here. As we take everything for granted until terminal illness finds its ways.

Then there are so many others who left us in our small span of life. The number of funerals we are destined to attend are decreasing every passing year. Until our own funeral. Which doesn’t occur to us. Because we shall never die.

Eid is one occasion where we go to graveyards and say our salaam. Fateha can be a beautiful gift one can offer to the deceased ones. It travels from the land to the heavens even there is no… connection.

Broken people, broken dreams; some with health issues, some breeding cancer deep inside, and some just having another Eid but nothing like the previous one when that particular loved one was around and sitting right across the sofa. Where do they all go?

Where has the father gone? Where is the mother? Open the old cupboard and sniff and try to get that one shot of their scent. Long and slow breaths and you will travel through the times to a hug that you have been missing. Smell has a memory. We don’t realize it until the perfume is gone.

Where is the aunt? The uncle? And the old man who used to sit at the bus stop?

And where are the kids? Sons? Daughters? Eid Mubarik? The parents who lost their parenthood cannot be happy for a moment. They can be seen laughing and smiling but they are not those laughs and smiles. No Eid or happiness can bring back their joy of life ever again.

Only kids can have a happy Eid till they are carefree and clueless. But not all kids. Naru cannot have a happy Eid. His mother died in pursuit of his father who is missing… like other missing people… in the deep hell of this deep state.

So many holes. So many pains. Yet, we stand and embrace and hug each other like we are actually smiling with happiness. Maybe we do! After all, we are all born with hypocrisy. I know. Wrong word.

Some are financially weak, and Eid makes them even more vulnerable. The better-off offering more Eidi to the kids and the weak ones being exposed around. Happy Eid!

And those old folks who made us, and the old lady who kept us warm in her belly for nine months, and the sofa with a missing spot and the cupboard with the scent, and the bricks in the house, and the leaking tap in the bathroom… everything has a missing. Everything has a missing point.

Some of us run away from the bricks and the cupboards and the sofas as we don’t want to travel through time while time itself is sneaking away right through our hands like a fistful of desert sand.

Mirage! This is all a mirage. Tell me, how many years since 2018? I can count to 2. See! We are a missing point.

Anyway.

This is how we are supposed to carry on the burden of legacy and humankind. Evolution. Reproduction. Death. Decay. Without a choice. Without consent.

So, Eid Mubarik! With all the pains, nostalgia, time travels, and missing points. The Sofa across you is empty today. Your sofa will be empty tomorrow. And you think you two will meet afterwards when both the sofas will be empty and that’s the point where…just kidding. Let’s not open the pandora box today.

Not today, Zarathustra!

Remember those who are not with us anymore. Say a prayer for them.

And meet those who are with us. Show them how important they are for us and for this entire world.

May Allah be happy with us.

May people be unharmed by us.

Walli – Chapter & Year No. 10 (from Jinnah Library)

If you get the nerve of the universe, the way it operates and functions, you will know that Walli wasn’t insane. He was a bit odd at times – fine, all the time – but not insane.

He was there, passing through the Mall Road in 1866 when the foundation was being laid – just after a year of the Museum. He doesn’t remember what he was doing in that life. Maybe he was going to the court. He was a judge, yes – he was a judge. A lord. Or maybe he was fighting a case which ultimately led to the formulation of the Guardians and Wards Act of 1890.

You don’t know Walli at all.

Time was at his disposal throughout the times. You may not get it till you get the bending curve of the gravity that spreads through out the space making it stronger around the denser beings; but then everything adopts new rules just outside the giant black hole. For you. These are all just objects to mess your cleanest measurement tools, for example time.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Simple. 60 seconds a minute. 60 minutes an hour. 24 hours a day. Simple. Clean and straight. But no.

Forget 1800s.

All of you cannot see 1990s again. Saddening, isn’t it? Some of you may not even had seen it at all. It was the last decade of evolution. A halt in 2000s. Devolution since 2010s.

You cannot imagine the beauty of 1980s.

You cannot ever witness what it was like in 1960s.

You cannot smell the flowers of 1910s.

You cannot understand the glimpse of her mole on her neck when she’d be angry, and her neck stretched a little upward… that was 1822. You cannot see that. Yet, Walli had the courtesy to travel through all these times and moments to be trapped in a single action that he didn’t commit but to become a slave of his own self for the generations to come. For another glimpse.

For a glimpse of a newborn girl, a decade back.

For a glimpse of the crawling baby, a year later.

For a hug, a year later.

For a long uninterrupted chat, a year later.

For a long stare, a year later.

For another crusade, a year later.

For the 3rd temple of Jerusalem, a year later.

For the demolition of all the holy places all over the world, a year later.

For the first conquest of the one who was awaited by the massive crowds, a year later.

For the final revelation that it was a very harmful and bloody joke on you, a year later.

10 years it is. It is not. The time doesn’t run as linear as you think. It bends around the denser objects… like Walli. I wish I could explain but you got only five senses. Or six as you claim at times of being a complete waste of DNA.

What would be the 7th sense? Or 8th? Imagine. You cannot. Because you have only 5 senses and they will never let you think beyond them. Hence, you will never ever understand anything, except the joke that’s on all of you. Glamorous one.

Anyway, he saw that white structure coming out of the garden like trees making their own way. Upwards. It’s always upwards. Against gravity. Pillars were raised. Like nails on the land. The ceilings and the two halls were designed in the Victorian style with chandeliers in the halls. The Raj looked into the work, and they did their Victorian jobs really well.

Have you seen Bahawalpur Library? Nothing. Mentioned it for no reason.

Later in years, Walli saw that structure turning into nothing. Renamed. After Jinnah. And nothing more. Became a library of random books. Not a place worthy enough to be called a library.

But then this structure is too precious for Walli. He saw that from the womb. To this. From 1886 to 2024. The first draft of the law of the guardians and ward act was written around this structure, not inside. And just like knowing it for over a century, he couldn’t own it. Couldn’t give it a name. Orphan. Orphaned.

Ignore those irrelevant details.

Have you held a hand between the aisles of books? The hand, that must not be left ever again. I know you cannot relate to this part of human behavior – hint: devolution – when only one hand was supposed to be held forever. Walli’s case is different though. He had to live a number of times to hold different hands, but in the end, it was also for one hand that he wanted to hold one time before ending his journeys through irrelevant and parallel times.

You can also debate that there was never a time of holding one hand ever. Irrelevant debate.

Have you ever heard how wasteful time is in itself? Of all the creations, the most wasteful is this: time. A ridiculous concept that does not even exist. Anyway.

Let’s cut the story to today. Imagine, Walli sitting in Jinnah Library’s main hall in the year 2024 to write a brief history of M. It was all about M. Not the library, not the Victorian style, not the Raj, not the gravity, not the denser objects, not time travel, not even time… but M. Maryam.

In the name of M. You have been bestowed with fortune and the favor of the Lord. Yes, the Lord. Who gives. And takes. Makes you happy. And sad. Gives you reasons to be blasphemous. And then sends unreasonable crowd to burn you. Infidelity.

“I object.”

“Drag him back to his cell where his years will repeat in days.”

“I detest.”

“Send him to the infinite frames of time where the loops will punish him without killing him.”

“10 years, Lord.”

“Your Lord is not done yet.”

“A thousand crimes are forgiven after 10 years, Lord.”

“Your Lord shall not forgive. Not yet.”

“I object.”

“Your Lord doesn’t care.”

“That’s why you are not my Lord. Not today.”

Wait for another year. Because another year, is just a joke in the Divine Comedy of thy Lord.

Toba Tek Singh

Toba Tek Singh incident proves that we are as fucked up as those brother and father are. I don’t want to mention the details, and I don’t want to mention why they murdered that lady. Sometimes, you can’t even type the fucked-up scenario this country puts you in.

So, I wrote what I wrote yesterday without deviating to Toba Tek Singh.

But one should remember the men of this country. This country has bearded men sodomizing kids in the holiest places. I have seen a clip where a maulvi has Quran in hand, reciting with his tongue, and doing an inappropriate act on an underage girl all the while. There are such clips in numbers. And blasphemy never happens in such cases. Peti-bhai. Business. Never mind.

This is also the country that hates women in public spaces. You disagree with Aurat March or Feminism. It’s ok. Fine. But let them voice themselves. Let them speak. It’s been centuries since they have been in forced silence. Let them speak even if it hurts because they were hurt even by the voices like Aristotle and Nietzsche.

This country has yet to accept that gender X exists. They know how to make fun with this gender and how to take them to bed, but as soon as someone will ask for basic rights, men will snatch him/her of his/her life and would dissect the body of the living being as serving themselves with a raw steak.

Such are the times I love writing what I wrote yesterday. If I must choose one, I will choose none. With religion in Constitution and religion in PPC and no religion in mosques and madrassahs, its suffocating to live in this land if you are not from the fucked-up majority.

To whom can you complain? Even the military and intelligence of this country run their business of power and fear by making hidden videos of women of families of interest. They know who is taking a shower and who is sleeping with who. Meanwhile, someone enters through the border and bombs a market anywhere is none of their business.

This is a fucked-up country. From top to bottom.

The revolution in this country will start when the whole society will rip off its clothes itself and will march naked to the city with the citadel. After placing the constitution and the PPC inside, they will burn the bastards and their booklets to make a new beginning. Till then, you can imagine this.

I’m You.

Nothing has changed. Maybe a little, but not really. I would insist on standing correctly.

I still wake up as a believer. A man of faith. With the passing of the day, the belief system transforms – evolution or devolution. It adopts more of atheism. By the night, its agnosticism that wins. And then, it starts all over again with the next sunrise.

If I had to choose one, I would choose none. Each has its own beauty.

Peek a little at any religion and it’s beautiful. See their books. Their Prophets – or non-Prophets. See their scriptures. Their religious places. I love religious places of all kinds. Mosque, Church, Temple, Gurdwara, Synagogue, etc. Each beautiful in its own way.

None of the religion says to mock. None say to hurt. None say to snatch. None say to rob, rape, abuse, murder, or anything bad. Yet, their competition never ends. And it would never end. And that’s not fine. Or maybe it is fine because over a billion people would die of hunger if there wasn’t any religion.  

You can say every religion is beautiful. Or each one is detestable. The meaning would remain the same. Do you know how many bloody wars atheists and agnostics have fought throughout history?

Yes. Blame the people. Not religion. A convenient offering. Denied. Dismissed.

Anyway. I was talking about my religion.

A beautiful religion to look forward to in the day. And nothing to look forward to by the night except your own self. Your own guts, your own imagination, your own power of will, your own lethargy, your own words, your own keyboard. Your own stubbornness not to make a dua for another year. Then another. Then…

That’s His Highness’s way of life. It’s nothing to be proud of.

From giving ownership to the Divine in the day and debating to get it back during the noon and successfully getting it back by the night. How bright? Did I ever tell you that I am a good lawyer too.

Poetic! How can it be that you talk about religion, and you don’t rhyme?

Are you interested in space and cosmos? It’s consistent expansion. The more we know, the more we don’t know. The more we see, the more is yet to be seen. From masters of the universe, we have not even been able to manage ourselves as a single dot in space. These spheres, these stars, these planetary systems, the galaxies, the cosmos and what not. The black holes – the most interesting aspect of the universe; after Marla. Obviously.

Well, I don’t know much about space. Almost nothing. Except that it is the most interesting subject in the history of us. And that is also a source of making the point that there is nothing. Or maybe, the point is the exact opposite.

Anyway, back to where we were before the usual deviation. Everything is beautiful. Religion too. The God too. The whole scripture too.

But then you see a child with cancer. Or a mother dying of hunger. Or a war killing thousands of children just because they were born in the cursed land. Or any other tragedy. Like a person living on dialysis for the last ten years. Something. Anything. And then you believe that this can’t be divine work. This can’t be a work of art. This is too ugly and too messy to be appreciated.

You may disagree. I disagree with myself too. Because I know nothing.

There is not a single subject that I know of. Master of none.

Yet, there is not a single subject of which I don’t know. Master of all.

Because I am you.

And we are all like that. I am you. You are me. We are all the same – with the only exception that I am writing these words while you are reading your thoughts.

Other than that, we all have the same source of DNA. We all may be children of God. Or not. But we all deserve to live the way want to live. And we all deserve to be respected.

Except those. You know those already.

With that, Jumma Mubarik!

Kingdom of Heaven (movie)

‘By the word “religion” I’ve seen lunacy of fanatics of every denomination be called the will of God. I’ve seen too much religion in the eyes of too many murderers. Holiness is in right action and courage on behalf of those who cannot defend themselves.’

These are words from the movie ‘Kingdom of Heaven’ (2005) with an enormous cast including Liam Neeson, Orlando Bloom, Eva Green, Michael Sheen, and others.

Kingdom of Heaven can be called as one of the most balanced movies on the topic of Jerusalem. The movie starts in 1184. That was the time when Christian rule of Jerusalem (1099 to 1187) was near its end. Saladin was to conquer the Kingdom of Heaven – Jerusalem – in 1187; after that it would remain with Muslims till World War I when British would finally took control over it.

Jerusalem. Can be called a holy land. Or a cursed land. Depends on your lens and bias. Prophet David (Daud AS) was the first major figure of the city. Then his son King Solomon (Suleman AS) ruled the land who had powers to control spirits. He built the First Temple of Jerusalem. In later events of the history, Christ (Esa AS) was murdered – or resurrected – in this city of Jerusalem.

And how many were murdered – or martyred – in Crusades? Who knows? The land is still not fertile.

Long story short, certain empires came and ruled. With the change in religion of Emperor Constantine of the Byzantine Empire, Jerusalem became more Christian from Jewish from 4th to 7th century. That Christian rule of Jerusalem was ended by conquest of the Caliph Umar RA in 637. Some centuries later, Sultan Mehmed Fateh would conquer Constantinople in 1453 that would bring the end of Byzantine Empire.

Well, that was not the story of the movie. I deviated. No apologies. Just wanted to recommend this movie. Have watched it twice before and every time it’s a treat with beautiful OST. There’s a scene in the movie which goes as follows:

Balian: What is Jerusalem worth?

Saladin: Nothing. [walks away and turns]

Saladin: Everything!

Movie: Kingdom of Heaven (2005)

IMDB rating: 7.3/10. Mine: 9/10.

A Story About Love

A woman had a good business back in old days. She had workers but she needed a man to handle all her trades and financial matters honestly, locally as well as abroad.

Then she heard of a man who had a reputation for honesty and integrity. She asked him to manage her business. The man agreed and she hired him.

He took charge of his new job and managed it with utmost honesty. He was not only honest with his employer but with his customers too. If a product was faulty or had some defect, he would tell the customer before making a sale.

Gradually, the business flourished even more. The businesswoman was so happy and impressed by the man that she fell in love and proposed him. The man accepted the proposal and together they made a beautiful story of an ideal couple.

That is a love story we all know. Yet, we all hide it somehow. An empowered and businesswoman? A male subordinate? A woman proposing a man? A woman 15 years elder than him?

An eternal love story.

The woman was Khadija RA.

The man was Prophet Muhammad PBUH.

Then, we became the followers, and we messed up all the concepts of love.

The Other Side…

Since women’s day is over, one must recognize another emerging truth of the society. Gone are the days – old days – when elders used to say:

“بچے چھوڑ کر گھر آجاؤ دو دنوں میں دماغ ٹھیک ہو جائے گا۔”

Scenario has changed. Or is changing pretty rapidly.

In the old days, fathers handled finances and mothers handled homes and kids. (I’m not defending that setting nor criticizing it.) With more needs, expensive education and healthcare, gadgets, competitiveness as well as women empowerment; both the parents entered the job market.

From sole financial custodians, fathers became partners in different settings of sharing at 100:0 to 50:50 to 80:20 or whatever. And motherhood was outsourced. Or you may say, parenthood was outsourced. To grandparents or daycare centers or maids.

The social norms further changed with social media. Fathers, apart from sole / main earners, had to prove inclusive and participatory fatherhood. From bathing kids to changing diapers, chores were shared. Gradually, particular concepts of fatherhood and motherhood intermingled.

مائے نی میں کنوں آکھاں!

Such poetry may not resonate as mother oriented as it did before. Or it may.

Where fathers still are the sole earners and mothers stay at home, the situation is even more intense. These homes are not homes without maids but a mess. Now yes, you may say women are not maids. But then, fathers are not mothers either. At least in this case.

There is division of labor and there should be division of labor.

Today, mothers are fathers. And fathers are mothers too. And in a brutal analogy – again not taking sides – maids are mothers too. Outsourced mothers.

Tyler Durden once said, “We’re a generation of men raised by women.”

Times may change the words to, “We’re a generation of men raised by maids.“

It’s a little sensitive topic. May hurt some. Or none. Doesn’t matter. A very harsh post – to which I stand – was written on women’s day. I stand with women’s right to life, decision, work, and whatever they may choose for themselves.

Let me add another thing here, since divorce rate is going up, family courts are having more cases than ever before. And in family courts, women have all the chips to play. Men suffer there for months and years for a single glimpse of their child. If you ever want to see men suffering, go to family courts. But yes, not all men are saints there either.

Anyway, back to the topic. Just wanted to say what should have been said. There are heroes on both sides. And villains as well. That doesn’t mean one should be biased enough to bang the one side only. Hence,

اب باپ بچے سنبھال لیتے ہیں۔

Financial Blunders

Blunders happen. But then, there are blunders only bastards can perform with eloquence.

Fiscal year or financial year budget is of 12 months. “Year.” Our FY starts from 1st of very July and ends on 30th of June. Budget – both development and non-development – is for a complete FY. This also means, that all the un-utilized funds shall lapse on 30th of June. Departments try their best – which is at par with worse – to utilize maximum funds.

And utilization is by far the only KPI that bureaucracy knows. Anyway, we are discussing something else. Not bastards.

Since we had an ugly caretaker-cum-PCB setup in Punjab, the budget presented for FY 2023-24 was for July to October. Funds lapsed on 31st October. Interestingly, no one had idea that funds would lapse. Even Finance Department was clueless. You can’t even believe what kind of comedy that was.

Anyway, new budget was announced for November 2023 to February 2024. That also lapsed in the last week of February 2024.

And now, surprise, surprise! Budget has been announced for one month i.e., March 2024. From 1st March to 31st March. By the time funds will be released – i.e., mid of the month – it will also be the time for closing of the Financial Year. Or financial month.

What next? Budget for a week? It’s so gross.

That’s why I say you cannot sustain with bureaucracy anymore. Even good politicians cannot do anything good. They will innovate such ugly measures that nothing will happen yet the whole secretariat will look like an Emergency Department. Everyone is running. Doing nothing.