Skip to main content

Who won?

On 16th March, right before Navrouz when the Persian world has traditionally celebrated the advent of spring, Pakistanis wrote a new chapter. We are told that it is an unprecedented event. It is as uncommon an event as laying off, so to speak, of a head of Justice in a country. What was done has now been-hopefully-undone. Whether it is the advent of Spring after a long drawn winter is yet to be seen. For now, we celebrate, in the hope of a new season.


Among others two things are foremost on my mind. One, since I live in USA presently, it is inevitable that I try to fathom US's reaction to events in Pakistan. During the Long March there were many reports coming from US regarding their interest in our events, firstly it was reported that US Joint Chiefs of Staff had persuaded our General Kiyani, like a little child is persuaded, to refrain from taking over like his predecessors, then we had reports that Madam Clinton had warned Mr. Zardari and Mr. Sharif that if they did not settle their differences aid to Pakistan might become a question mark. So it was after all a 'deal' made in US and Pakistani people have no right to take credit for this sweeping and unprecedented victory! Or is it a case on the part of US to take undue credit for something which after a long long time has the blessing of 'janta' in Pakistan. An effort to become 'popular', maybe.


Secondly, Pakistani people are made to believe that they do not have any voice or sway in determining the destiny of their country. The common people coming out in huge numbers and many more waiting to join the Long March are to believe, post 16th March, that it was after all the US intervention that convinced Mr. Prime Minister! In one sweeping statement US has taken our faith from under our feet and put it out to give a good beating to clear it of any dust of misperception! Bravo!!

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Fantasy or reality: Where do we want to live?

An eagle is told that it once lived in huge nests on high mountains and tall trees at high altitudes and the big bird scoffs at such a preposterous idea. How can such a big bird living in caves and hunting on rodents soar in the skies over mountain tops and oceans. Not a bad idea but quite unlikely. Seems like these humans are crazy and think of anything about other animals to hide their own embarrassment over their monkey ancestry. Pick up any great novel, Hundred Years of Solitude, Blindness, Beloved, Alchemist or any others that you have read where imagination is stretched but you flow with the narrative. You easily believe what the writer is asking of you. It seems plausible and hence possible and you like a bird open your wings and fly where the winds of possibilities take you. Marquez creates a parallel world of freedom and we camp in this world with him; Morrison brings a spirit from the dead and we unblinkingly accept her character; Saramago presents a sightless world to us ...

Least Favourite things.

Grey Hair and wrinkles, Love handles in thirties twenty buck Roses with down turned expressions These are some of my least favourite things Empty mail boxes Cats out patrolling Classes on Fridays early at 0930 These are some of my least favourite things Winter in mid April Inbox not opening Washing bathtub with bleach and scrubbing These are some of my least favourite things Chicken at lunch and chicken at dinner On Monday and Tuesday going into Wednesday Same 'ol chicken day in and day out These are some of my least favourite things

Snapshots

Naseem, is a six year old girl. When I met her she was sitting on the charpoi with her mother and constantly clapping but without any mirth. Her hair was cut almost to her scalp. I was told that she was a miracle child, she had been suffering from severe acute malnutrition and her family and relatives had almost given up hope that she would survive but she had proven all stats wrong and was sitting right in front of us. Physically, she was on the mend but her mental growth had been irreversibly stunted. She did not respond to any movement, any gesture or sound, her mind was somewhere else... A little boy, hardly seven, sitting on the curbside on an otherwise busy junction but at 0100AM he seemed so out of place on that dark, deserted road. As we stopped at the traffic signal, on the road perpendicular to where he was sitting, my attention was drawn to his posture. His slumped back was towards me and as I watched, two cars stopped on the lanes furthest from him. He made an ...