The Pakistani in me is gradually turning into a schizophrenic.
Between the effete lands and forlorn skies and from the coast of Karachi to the Khyber Pass, hideous figures haunt me everywhere. When exactly we died as a nation could not get reported. However, the reminiscence of the ‘could-be day’ kept getting materialized into phases and faces alike.
The day they dismissed a certain HEC figure, I saw the education Behemoth ( or may be it never was) wooing like a pigeon. The pigeon-oid bequeathed withdrawal of grants and cancellation of various PhD programs. It died or not was again not reported. Fake degrees issue arose and all I saw were bedouins chanting loud with red Indian beats in the background.
‘Ethical-values’ were already an extinct species in my country. The day pacts and promises were negated to be equivalent of Ayah and hadith and thus denounced, I heard its sniffled cries. A society that was essentially made up of harmony, welfare and peace was receded to become set of tribes and we were too busy to even notice it. Or may be it breathed its last when my leaders defecated mentally live on the Television, yanking ‘mothers’ and ‘sisters’ to make their arguments look stronger. Yes , exactly the ‘values’ died that day and its corpse was subsequently gross.
The paradoxical monsters were scariest of all. With dying education, they at once decided to upgrade colleges to universities. Universal standards that serve as prerequisite for a university foundation were down rightly ignored.The same monster popped up when they overreacted at the ‘generous’ visit of a neighbor country representative. Bundle of bucks were thrown to celebrate the ‘friendship’, bordering on a typical romance throughout the country. They plainly forgot that for a starved man even the moon seems to be a roti ( bread). Period.
The day they killed Salman Taseer I could not recognize my friends any more. The people I always considered as educated and sane ‘human beings’ just vanished and all I saw were clones of Mumtaz Qadri everywhere. That day I pleaded in my heart: Dear mothers, please don’t breed sons like him again, the stigmas on motherland’s honor already seem non washable. With his death, I don’t see literati of Pakistan venturing to resurface again, especially in the mires of politics. The political buffoons are hard to stand and I wince again and again. ‘All is well’ therapy seems a lousy idea here. Same goes for all your hypothesis regarding optimism. The Pakistani in me desperately wants to be treated before this Schizophrenia takes the better of her. Meanwhile, I am with all my Pakistaniat, suspended in the air of fear, for the future and for the love of God, forever more.