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Sheema Mehkar
Posted on December 24, 2014
You turned 138 today. But, gladly you still dont seem to be aging
So, how do I look?
As always, debonair, father.
If it is a happy day, why the atmosphere is so melancholic? Is my country
doing fine?
No, father. It is ill, very ill. I dont know which dictionary or vocabulary or
language I shall extract words from to tell you in what a tormenting state
your beloved country is in. Cant you read my face?
I certainly can. You look hollow, robbed and bruised.
When you left for your heavenly abode, the vultures took over your land.
One replaced other in the name of evolution by bamboozling millions each
time. These vultures have forged a system that stinks. A system that
enriches the rich but, deprives the poor. That clothes the dressed but,
nudes the naked. That feeds the affluent but, hungers the hungry. That
twists the law to serve the moneyed but, persecute the poor. That
exonerates the criminal but, prosecutes the innocent. That roasts the
minorities in kiln and rapes the women. That has stemmed the extremism
and made the blasphemy a norm. That has spewed sectarianism and
spouted provincialism. A system that barrens the mothers laps for no food
and lands newborns in tiny graves for no oxygen. Because this system can
build concrete structures but, cant invest in human flesh. A system that
buries our dreams in underpasses, burns our hopes in illuminating lights of
overpasses and cages our future in palaces of rulers.
A system that denies justice, produces illiteracy, dishonours merit, breeds
unemployment, begets social injustice, creates crime, induces hatred,
promotes bigotry and adheres lawlessness.
These opulent rulers of the deprived nation and their henchmen are the
money-makers who after robbing our votes are squandering the countrys
resources as personal reservoirs. A nation of millions is ruled like a
personal kingdom of monarchs who are plundering and pillaging it to roots
reducing us as bunch of beggars.
Father, the democracy of your democratic country has reduced to a mere
product that serves its highest bidder.
But, then came this mad man, like a knight armoured with iron-will,
crusading against these predators who have hunted this land in pursuit of
satisfying their insatiable avarice. He has galvanized the racked youth into
a combat force to prey upon a system that reeks.
When he is the only one who is all set to fix the law, King John and his
Sheriffs are after him, declaring him as Robinhood, an outlaw. He is being
awarded the epithets: agitator, mutineer and rebel. He is being accused of
abetting the vigilantism if he dares to repel.
But, his struggle is not dying. His resolve is not perishing as he doesnt
dread dying on a treadmill. He did magic, woken us up from self-induced
slumber and freed us from afflicted slavery. He has pumped life in the dead
fishes and made us swim against the stream. He is getting old but, his
spirit is growing younger. His wrinkles are getting deeper and so does his
determination. He is getting pale but, flames of change in him are getting
reddish. His steel nerves have started to melt the rod in the necks of
savages. His fight is quashing the stigma of status-quo.
Crowds enriched with pep, rapture and exuberance paraded to him on his
one call. Old, elderly, young, women, children, infants, newborns flocked to
his gigantic demonstrations. Throngs and throngs, breaking the shackles of
unconsciousness, assembled to listen to his message.
Every day from atop the cliff he roared: Rise and rise again, until the lambs
become lions.
He has embarked on a journey to make us the lambs the loins. By
launching massive citizenry awareness, he has made people cognizant of
their born rights. He has transferred the ownership, power and control to
the masses to the real heirs. He is riding us all on the alley to fight
against the tyranny. He has took off the voyage to sculpt a New Pakistan; a
repaired Pakistan; a healed Pakistan. A Pakistan that belongs to
commoners and not to pygmies and their minions.
In the twilight of congregation, glittering eyes, blazing hopes and dazzling
dreams were giving nightmares to the wily rulers who have mauled our
souls, quelled the cries and quietened the pain. He has shook the nation
from hibernation and walked us out of the graves of ignorance and brought
a paradigm shift in the perceptivity of a common man.
His eighteen years of perseverance and struggle has finally aroused in an
ingratitude nation the sense of ownership. He lashed them for their stoned
hearts and perpetuated silence. Now, they have owned up themselves,
their land and their compatriots. They have learned to feel the pain,
protest, scream, clamour and shed tears.
He has addressed the right chords of the masses and morphed the
yearnings into deafening music beats of change. He has dyed the dismal
political spectrum in colours of revived hope, re-birthed dreams,
resuscitated self-belief and a palpable future that belongs to every citizen
of Pakistan.
monster is devouring our kids, shredding their flesh and bathing them in
blood. Little ones are paying the price of self-bred and self-nourished
menace. Every other day this land is stained red and we are left bereaved,
broken and dead inside. We are running out of tears and patience to bear
the unendurable pain. Tens of thousands of us have been ruthlessly
butchered but, our blood failed to move the heartless rulers. Their hollow
statements, callous words, apathetic demeanour and inexplicable inertia
has tormented us to no extent. The beasts are at our doorsteps but, we
stand helpless. The vicious cycle of hate, revenge and lust for blood has
reached our homes but, these cowards couldnt even lash these beasts
with words, let alone fight. They just reimburse our cheap lives for few
bucks while our coffins are getting heavier and graves countless.
Father, you left us to be consumed by this (seemingly unending) war and if
left, to be crippled inside by the prevalent unaccountable barbaric system.
Pakistan cant be undone, the faith that these words of yours has always
given us is now gradually dwindling. But, against all hopes, against all
reasons, against all logics, against the desire and probably against the will,
we are still hoping, still breathing and still keeping the belief intact.
So, you have given up.
No, or may be yes. A part of mine has probably given up.
You know I was always cited by my foes as a haughty old-man. Because,
for them I always was as they failed to break me and defeat me. I had
never compromised on my principles. I had never surrendered to the
injustice. I remained adhered to my mission. I never lost the belief in
Pakistan becoming a reality. Even when the hopes had waned,
circumstances had become adverse and I was put on the spikes of
censure, I didnt give in to their ideologies. I didnt give up to their
agendas. I fought, I soldiered on, battling it till last. I did what I could in the
best interest of millions of you. And, at last, I triumphed over evils. I have
no remorse. I have no guilt and I am not disappointed in you.
So, daughter, in this moment of grief, my message to the great people of
this land is: Nations that deprive themselves of courage in testing times
taste defeat. But, you are the bravest nation, the most resilient. You are no
failure. You never were. You just lacked belief in yourself, the will and unity.
You always refused to take the ownership, the mantle and the will to stand
up against the wrong been done to you. Unlike me, you gave in to the
(imposed) injustice.
Hold on to the fighting spirit this great-mad-man has given you, cling on to
the winning spirit that has united you against this war. Dont surrender to
robbers and beasts. Dont give in to tyranny. Resolve, that no matter
how long and agonizing the journey is, how far and obscure the destination
is, you will not give up. You will not surrender. You will fight and fight for
the soul of my land, till last. Till all the lambs become lions. Till you triumph
over all evils.
Now, repeat after me: Pakistan was born to live.