Random Numbness (June 2020)

Mere Pakistanio! We don’t have a simple plan. We have business plan. Plans. Locust is business too. Boys are on it and I trust them. At least with revenues.
 
I came to know that Ehsan Ullah is not in Turkey but in Islamabad. You don’t need to worry. He’s in safe hands. Like Rao Anwar. But you are pissed off. Right? So?
 
Quaid-e-Azam said, “You are free; you are free to go to your parks. You are free to go to your malls or to any other places of contracting the virus in this state of Pakistan. You may belong to any religion, caste or creed – that has nothing to do with the business of the state.”
 
How can I go against Quaid’s plan? How can I go against ‘business of the state’? You need to understand that.
 
With so many economic challenges around the world, I came with a plan. For poor and needy people. Catch locust and sell it for Rs.15/kg. This is the same rate of land acquisitions for DHA and Bahria and Fazaia.
 
Fazaia se yaad aya Faiza beauty cream is racist. And it doesn’t even work.
 
Anyway.
 
Doctors are crying. Complaining as usual. For PPEs and stuff. Such a shame that we have these unpatriotic doctors with no sense of nationalism. I don’t even consider them front-line warriors. In fact, I don’t consider them at all. They don’t even exist for me.
 
Who would have asked for this and that in war time? Pathetic!
When we sent PPEs to USA, they cried even more. No empathy. No sympathy.
 
Meanwhile, have you seen the audacity of Bangladesh? The little kids sent us medicine. Well, I don’t consider it a good gesture. These-crying-little-victims-of-1971 have nothing to offer us except blames. Look at them at what they have lost. They would have been celebrating May 28th a few days back but they chose medicine overall missiles.
 
Mere dumb Pakistanio! I know we are waiting for two things at the moment. Next episode of Ertugrul and the vaccine. Well, Ertugrul will be on time. For vaccine, these lazy scientists have to find something yet. And even if they will, what guarantees success?
 
Polio has a vaccine.
And we have polio.
You getting the point na?
 
See what’s happening in the US. The police brutality has taken a toll over blacks. At least we are not facing this issue. Blacks are safe here. Also, we never let people out in masses. Our security forces are always ready to cover the dark state. I would ask Trump to get a hold of himself and impose martial law. Immediately.
 
And look at Rome, Tokyo, Madrid, New York, London, Delhi, Red Light Areas of Amsterdam. Apart from perpetrators, there is nothing to be seen. And here, in Pakistan – let me be precise – even Heera Mandi is fully operational and treating the visitors like usual.
 
Mere Pakistanio!
 
Ap ne ghabrana nahi hai. Boys and I are on everything. Home Department, AG, IG, CPEC, Information, PIA, WAPDA, NDMA, PTV, CAA, Anti-Narco, FPSC, PDMA, PM Housing Authority, SUPARCO, POF and various other departments and authorities are now disciplined.
 
With goose-step every morning, all are attentive and uniformed departments. You cannot believe, but no other democratic government ever achieved this.
 
You voted us. No you didn’t. But yes you did. After all, Hitler was elected too. Ha ha! That was humor.
 
Let me end this with Iqbal’s couplet;
 
Subh-e-azal yeh mujh se kaha General nay
Jo aqal ka ghulam ho, wo dil na qabool ker

George Floyd

Malcolm X is as relevant today as he was back in the 60s. His brutally honest words took him to his grave. He knew he would be assassinated. There were attempts and phone taps and followings.

But he didn’t bow down.

Not to the FBI. Not to the US Government. Not to Elijah Mohammad. Not to the NOI. Not to anyone.

So – as he said after Kennedy’s assassination – chickens are coming home to roost.

US has seeded racial, religious and class discrimination across the world. Here, it is facing what it has done. But there are so many divisions among the Black community itself that it wouldn’t be now. Not this time. Until another Malcolm X arrives with the same brutal honesty.

Not Martin Luther King. Not Elijah Mohammed. Not Wallace Fard. But Malcolm X.

Now come to the police brutality.

Well, isn’t it the same here? Have you forgotten Sahiwal massacre? If you’ll compare US’s police with our local police, it will be a grotesque comparison. That cop who killed George Floyd has already been charged. On the contrary, our security personnel always go free after years of cooling-down-the-anger.

Like the killers of Sarfaraz Shah. The incident was recorded and went viral. But impotency here is so high that there wasn’t a single rally against the perpetrators.

And who can forget Rao Anwar’s 444 encounters. Even Supreme Court succumbed to his tactics.

And even if the police will do something tangible, like they did in case of Raymond Davis, boys will come to the rescue. Remember Pasha escorting Davis to the airport? Yes, you do. You didn’t utter a word.

But.

Your hypocrisy is conveniently making you talk. Big words. Justice. Equality. Law. Punishment. Shame.

Shame!

We are still on our way to become an uglier society. For over a decade, Hazara community has been targeted and killed. By state owned Lashkar-e-Jhangvi. Even IK tweeted this once.

Now, Hazara community has done the same and killed three young boys. This is completion of the cycle. But it is just the beginning of a vicious cycle. When victims become perpetrators, you know what’s coming.

So, don’t bother. You still have to compete with your own hypocritical dumbness.

And you have a topic. That Uzma, Usman, Sadaf, Shehroz stuff. Talk about that. Because you still have to figure out what’s better: to cheat and keep OR to divorce and marry.

Carry on.

Music!

Letter

Dear Taya Abu,

Glad to know you are doing so well in Ladakh. We are going mad with happiness. We are already trolling Phupho on Twitter. Proud of you.

But Taya Abu! While you are doing so good, do come forward for our little cousins in Srinagar. This is a request. End their misery once and for all.

In return, we will remain unconscious about our cousins in Uighur. Who? We don’t even know them. Keep making your concentration camps. If you need any help – I mean labour – we are a yuan away.

P.S. we accept your sons’ proposals for our sisters. You are welcome to take them anytime.

Best regards for your future endeavors in Hong Kong.

Collectively yours,
Begana Abdullah.

8303

Behind every flight is a story. Some are going for a family gathering. Some to attend a marriage. Some to grieve.

Some are with money and gifts. Some empty handed.

There are incomplete goodbyes on departure and awaited welcomes on arrivals. Goodbyes are always incomplete. There is always that last handshake, hug or kiss which is missed. Always.

And then there are plane crashes.

Mayday. Mayday. People waiting for their loved ones at the airport now have to receive them from the morgue.

The idea of crashing in itself is horrible. Imagine yourself in a plane going down. Your life flashing in your eyes. Death – horrible death – covering you from all dimensions. And you are stuck on your seat and can do nothing.

Behind every plane crash is a different story. Different tragedy. Sometimes, there are blunders. Sometimes, it’s technical. Sometimes, the planes are not managed properly – like in most cases of PIA. And other times, it’s just the call.

Death is fine. The way it comes isn’t. And we don’t have a choice. Except to die anyway.

Dying in a plane crash is one of the most horrible ways to have an ending. No hope. Severe shock. Everything jolting. Sudden knock of death. Everyone already mourning their own end. Everyone not-ready to be burnt alive.

And being on such a tragic plane with your family is another misery altogether. What can you do? What have you done? This can’t be karma. This can’t be explained.

Another such tragedy is of missing people. Families don’t know if their loved ones are alive. Some actually pray for their deaths. Mothers have gone on long marches demanding dead bodies of their son.

Because when you bury, you know the whole story. When you don’t, you are hanged alive. Not dying. And dying every moment.

May there be some value of life.
May there be some sense of responsibility in those who are working in such sensitive jobs.
May there be some empathy in those dealing in repair and maintenance of planes.

‘Here’ is before ‘hereafter’. Hereafter is nothing without here. It doesn’t even exist without here first.

With cornona epidemic, plane crash, unsafe kids, state violence, and national misery… can’t say ‘Eid Mubarik’.

May everyone rest in peace!
Those who are gone.
And those who aren’t.

Colonel Virus

Corona virus is new. Colonel virus is not.

Just imagine, if she did this with policemen, what would she do to civilians.
Then Imagine wives of higher hierarchy.
And then Imagine the higher hierarchy itself.

Try to get an idea of what the people of tribal areas and Balochistan must be going through.

Remember PTM? Their demands? One demand was to reduce the number of check-posts to save them of their daily dose of humiliation.

A few days back, a senior military official was fined due to traffic violation in India. In Pakistan, Motorway Police was beaten and tortured by the boys in 2016 for doing their duty. Pistols were shown. Power was demonstrated. And the case was done and dusted.

Like the case of Sarfraz Shah killed by Rangers in Karachi.
Or the case of Sahiwal massacre.
Or the case of Wapda lineman killed by an officer.
Or the case of Rao Anwar’s 444.
Or the mysterious escape of Ehsan Ullah Ehsan.
This can be a never ending list.

You cannot trial those who run the system. You cannot trial the owners. You cannot trial who can make you evaporate. You cannot do anything.

See the government. Imagine its helplessness. There are retired and on-duty officers on major civilian posts. Almost every major department is taken over. Like lands of DHAs all across the country.

Situation is as ugly as Suparco.

Founded in 1961, Abdus Salam was its first chairman along-with other great minds of the time. Administrative control of the commission remained under doctors and experts of the relevant field till 2001. Then it was taken over by army. Since 2001, you-know-who are running a pathetic show.

So, this colonel virus isn’t new. But our response and numbness is as miserable as it’s against corona virus.

Anyway,
Just accept.
Welcome this acceptance.
This would be your first step towards realization.
And this realization would materialize someday.

Till then, eat grass.

Random Numbness (May 2020)

As the number of confirmed cases are growing exponentially on a daily basis, we are here with eased-locked. Or smart lockdown. Or whatever.
The official binary debate was: save jobs vs. save lives. And it’s ‘save jobs’. [Why do I feel like writing ‘Steve Jobs’ instead of ‘save jobs’?]. Well, with 5 million kids coming in the next six months, the decision is quite sensible. You can make ‘lives’ on bed but you can’t create ‘jobs’ that way.
PM was right. And smart.
With the binary debate, I got to remember that binary question which changed our fate forever. Remember when Islamabad got a call from Washington after 9/11? “With us or against us?” Exactly. Smart. Catastrophically smart.

[Not using ‘dumb’ or ‘duffers’ today as people complained that I get personal. Duly noted.]
Every other day, PM opens his puzzle box and no one is sure what he is playing. Sometimes he praises his actions and other times his inactions. Sometimes it is a conspiracy of elites and other times it is his charisma.
Just when he was worried about the hungry and the poor and needy and the jobless; ECC approved a grant of Rs.1.66 billion for the richest for a telecom monitoring project.
A conspiracy of elites! To keep an eye on you. To make Orwell’s Big Brother stronger. And better. Because now is the ideal time for real business.
In the name of national security.
In a parallel universe meanwhile, two Baloch graduates of Quaid-e-Azam University were killed in Balochistan by Security Forces. This happens when you keep on labeling people and are not ready to talk.
Like in 1971, we were not ready to talk to the inferior Bengali race. Today, we are not ready to bear these inferior Baloch and Tribal races. So, there are a couple of million traitors in the country at the moment.
Words will bleed.
We will ponder for a while.
Then we will switch on the TV. For stupid debates and advertisements of things we don’t need.
And Ertugrul.
Game of Thrones had a crowd following. So does Ertugrul. So, not on the cards and not at all interested.
But if you are interested in Turkey, then remember this country did something in recent history which we never could. In July 2016, Turkish Military attempted to impose Martial Law. The public came out and stood before tanks. And the coup met with a historical failure.
This is a better story than falling in love with Ertugrul and then feeling betrayal after googling ‘Halime Hatun’.
[Watching movies / series / dramas are based on personal interests. As long as you are having fun – and learning – keep watching. Anything.]
Sadly, we don’t cherish our ‘own’ heroes. Like Bhagat Singh who stood against oppression. We cherish those who came and assaulted us. Mughals, Ghazni, Bin Qasim, Aibak, Ghori, Abdali… were all foreign invaders. Who came for their vested interests. Like America came to Afghanistan.
Moreover, why don’t we wonder why we always cherish those who killed thousands / millions? These warriors rarely fought for anything moral or upright or anything other than their own personal interest.
But yes. When the invaders become rulers, they become part of the society. They become part of the culture. Urdu came into being that way. The monuments of the last 10 centuries are our heritage. That’s why we cherish Mughals. Then why don’t we cherish British rule?
Argh…
Wrong question.
History works in mysterious way. With the sword of the powerful. And the pen of the writer.
All we need to do is: to know history and to be critical of it and never to repeat follies.
And never, ever to forget.

You need to be Dumb to be that Numb

Asim replaces Firdaus. So? Nothing.

You need to be dumb to be that numb.

Once upon a time, Vawda brought a boot on a live TV show. To make a point. He did. Boot was the point. But you didn’t get it.

Anyway,

Shit happens. Security lapses. Bombs blasts. People die. Collateral damage. For the sake of argument… fine.

But ‘Ehsan Ullah Ehsan’ never happens. The one who is responsible for the goriest incident in the history of the country, doesn’t ‘escape’ like that. That doesn’t happen.

Yet it happened.
As if nothing happened.

This country was hijacked from the very beginning. Those who ran the machinery for their Colonial Lords, took charge of it.

Gora sahibs transformed into Kala sahibs. Same establishment. Same bureaucracy. Same nawabs. Same military.

Jinnah knew that very well. That’s why he was suspicious of Ayub and made stern remarks against his political ambitions.

But Jinnah died and a vicious cycle of ugliness started. People were labeled. Treason was imposed. Blood was sold. Jihad became business. History was mutated. To make a fortune of conglomerate businesses based on the political empire of violence and power.

Even Fatima Jinnah wasn’t spared. She was abused, labeled, defeated and then silenced. The first opposition leader died mysteriously in her Mohatta Palace.

With Fatima Jinnah’s death, dissent was muted. Forever.

But every now and then, Asma Jahangirs and Habib Jalibs came. They roared. Their roar became words of defiance. And they were labeled too.

And here with real masters behind the curtains, we have puppets presenting an expensive show; Buzdar as CM, Tareen as no one. All the visionaries of change being ugly and greedy. Being busy in legal crimes to make fortunes with subsidies.

People believe a democracy is in place. Which is not. Which never was.
People think that the PM is the PM. Who is not. Who never was.
People think that Parliament has power. Which does not. Which never had.

And you are too numb to get the point.

Wanna-Be Warriors against Covid-19

Two Black Hawk Helicopters took flight from Jalalabad (Afghanistan). Reached Abottabad. Executed a brutal operation for around 40 minutes. And flew back to Afghanistan.

Those who couldn’t detect that, are spying on Covid-19 suspects. Imagine the irony.

Let’s look at it another way. Let’s ‘assume’ they knew about the operation. And were part of the plan: to feel without moaning. And they did as were told.

But doesn’t the second case make it even more deplorable?

No. Let’s take the first-case. And behave! They didn’t know.

But irony sustains.

I remember when a judge inquired ‘them’ about a guy who was abducted for weeks without a proper trial. And they said that they were unable to unlock the laptop.

Irony. Sustains.

And Ehsan Ullah Ehsan. Those who were ‘unable’ to keep an ugly terrorist in custody, are trying to portray as frontline warriors against a pandemic. Or maybe, the ‘escape’ was… Behave!

Such irony.

Pimps. Sold Jihad. Sold religion. Sold people. Sold blood. Sold narrative. Sold every single thing they could sell.

Even our history is ironic. For example in 71, majority got tired of minority and decided to separate ways. Let me rephrase. Majority. Got tired. Of minority. And founded another country.

Irony.

A question: Why duffers are always referred as ‘intelligence’?

The virus had at least taught the world who the actual frontline warriors are. The doctors. Not the duffers.

All they want is to portray themselves alongside the doctors. All they want is to keep the stage. To be relevant. To be the frontline warriors. However, they have always been the backstage dealers.

Anyway. With all the precautionary paradoxes and the PM and his team and Tariq Jameel and his tears and the intelligence and all the puppets of the uniform disguising a civil rule… we don’t need to panic.

Covid-19 is in safe hands.

Random Numbness (April 2020)

No more Khalil ur Rehman Qamar vomiting on TV. But it doesn’t mean shit doesn’t exist anymore. It does. Only we have some other problems.

Firstly, there is this virus. Supreme Court is trying their best to control the pandemic. Forgetting that they themselves are endemic.

Then, we have this sugar crisis. Tareen’s sugar levels is high as IK – well, not IK – made the report public. Now Tareen is running here and there, looking for some Musharraf-kinda-daddy. ‘Sugar daddy’ looking for daddy. What luck!

Meanwhile Saad rafique met Pervaiz Elahi. Yes, the same ‘daaku’. In ten years, PML-Q desperately wanted to hangout with PML-N, but they were not needed before. Now political frustration has paved the way for the two ugly ducklings. This is precisely where Zia’s DNA meets Musharraf’s DNA.

And Vawda is back again. Without a boot this time. If coronavirus had a face…

Even religious scholars and mullahs are providing comedy. Yeh to ho ga. When their businesses will be closed, they will be frustrated. And in frustration, they will provide content.

Anyway, with all the fuss, comedy remained intact. IK says something. Sindh goes the other way. Punjab follows Sindh after a day or two. Then KPK follows Punjab. Then Federal endorses everything with ifs and buts. And then comes sugar and wheat report.

Government has issued vague notifications and has directed Commissioners / Deputy Commissioners to resolve the confusions. Well, the bureaucrats rarely handle straight guidelines, and here they are asked to use their minds. Embrace yourself!

There is much ado about nothing. Lockdown is here. It’s not curfew. Yes, you can open your shop. No, not you. You. I mean you, not you. Who?

But don’t blame them.

We got these laws, courts, bureaucracy and military from colonialism. Ranks and designations and hierarchies and grades are exactly the colonial way. In exactly the same offices they made during colonial era. With exactly the same mindset sucking the system.

Majority of our laws and penal codes – including 144 – are from colonial era. The exact same system is lynching the public the exact same way.

Only the elite natives replaced the gora sahibs.

That’s why our history, throughout the decades, is same. Same ink accusing the same class of the same mind.

Jalianwala Bagh before partition.
Babrra massacre after partition.

Manto wrote before and after 1947. And he wrote exactly the same stories.
Stories of atrocities.
Stories of lawlessness.
Stories of corruption.
Stories of fanaticism.
Stories of men. Men of lust.

The only difference is what he wrote as derogatory has become itself a writer with endless scripts and dramas. But we have other problems for now.

Walli – Vicious Cycle

There is pain. Then there is spiritual pain. The one you nurture so you may live spiritually. At least.

Walli’s life may be a physical tragedy, but his pain was purely spiritual. Without a doubt.

While sitting with Buddha on the hills, Walli gave him the secret. It wasn’t the hunger or abandoning your family. These are physical pains which lead to nothing spiritual.

Well, Buddha achieved enlightenment – nirvana – afterwards. Walli didn’t. Or maybe he did too, but he didn’t tell anyone. Because his was a personal journey, which was yet to be finished.

Centuries later, Walli narrated the same secret to Christ. While waiting in the death chamber, Walli revealed that physical death is temporary. Spiritual death is the real tragedy.

Walli told him to ask God for heavenly permission. In return, Walli died on the cross. No one knows it was Walli who died that day. Only to be resurrected again and again and again.

But who is Walli?

We don’t know for sure. All we know is that he had some unfinished business. In his original life, he went on to a useless war enforced by the emperor. He left his pregnant wife behind and promised her that he would return soon.

He didn’t.

His wife gave birth to a girl, while Walli got buried in an unidentified grave outside Mesopotamia after the victorious war for the emperor.

Since then, he has been helping people to complete their journeys while he himself is wandering for the reunion with his daughter.

While his journey remains incomplete, he was sure to complete the miraculous reunions of Buddha and Christ.

Anyway, can you imagine Walli being the emperor himself? From an unknown soldier to the emperor of all faiths? Well, that’s another tragedy. He had to conquer the Holy Land to complete a prediction.

That war wasn’t holy. It was personal. As he perished for his emperor back then, he too got crowned himself while thousands perished for his war. And history, which he wrote himself, calls him Commander of all Faiths.

Anyway.

These are bits of his journeys from here and there. We don’t have a complete story. But we do know the essence.

From the power of the great emperor to the powerless life of a small farmer, Wali lived through it all. He died on the battlefield without a name and had a whole kingdom named after him in his time. In all the powerful and powerless journeys, his essence remained the same.

He once lived a dervesh life too. He left his home and went far away to a small village where he lived like a hippie. He did poetry and his poetry was against the crowd. He targeted all those with power because he knew how useless this power is. The power only keeps you busy, that’s all. Useless.

He died in his late 70s. People built a tomb in his name. The tomb became a symbol of sufism for generations.

And in another later journey, Walli was singing and dancing to his own poetry in the verandah of his own tomb. Like a madman who never bathed and never prayed.

That is Walli’s cycle of life. That is everyone’s cycle of life too. Vicious. Like a snake. Eating its own tail. Forever and ever.