"چڑھتے سورج کے پجاری ....!"

ہم انسانوں کی ایک غالب اکثریت اپنی سوچ اور فکر کے زاویوں میں بڑی حد تک اپنی ذات تک محدود ہوتے ہیں . چوٹی چوٹی چیزیں ہمارے ذہنوں پر ایسے نقوش چھوڑ دیتی ہیں جو رہتی عمر تک ہماری شخصیت رہن سہن اور برتاؤ کا حصّہ رہتی ہیں . بچپن کی کئی عادتیں ہمارے بھڑھاپے تک ہمارا ساتھ نہیں چھوڑتی .

ان ہی عادات میں سے ایک عادت ہماری دوسرے انسانوں پر بہت جلد بھروسا کر لینے کی ہے. نہ جانے کیوں مجھے لگتا ہے کے ہم سب اپنی زندگی کے کسی موڑ پر یہ ضرور چاہتے ہیں کے کوئی ایسا ہو جس پر ہم اپنے حال اور مستقبل کے حالات کے لیے بھروسا کر سکیں .

پرانے زمانے میں لوگ اپنے بادشاہوں آقاؤں اور سرداروں سے اس ہی بھروسے اور اعتماد کے رشتے سے جڑے ہوے ہوتے تھے . ان کی عزت ناموری اور خواہش کے لیے اپنی جانیں تک لٹا دیتے تھے. برطانوی قوم اس کی آج بھی ایک جیتی جاگتی مثال ہے . یہ لوگ ملکہ اور شاہی خاندان سے عقیدت کی حد تک محبت کرتے ہیں .ان کا سب کہا درست اور ان کا سب کیا جائز .

اور یہی بھروسا اکثریت کو اندھی تقلید تک لے پہنچتا ہے. بھر ہر نیا آنے والا شخص انتہائی آرام کے ساتھ انسانوں کو بڑے پیمانے پر بیوقوف بنا کر اپنے مقاصد حاصل کرنے کو استعمال کرتا ہے.

ہماری پاکستانی قوم کے ساتھ یہ حالات خصوصیت سے کئی بار ہو چکے ہیں . بھٹو ، طاہر القادری ، الطاف حسسیں ، زرداری . ہمارے قومی شعور سے ہر ایک نے جی بھر کر فائدہ اٹھایا اور میڈیا کی مخصوص لابی کے ساتھ مل کر ایک ایک کرکے اپنا بھروسا قائم کیا ،اپنے مقاصد حاصل کیے اور اطمینان کے ساتھ اپنا راستہ لے کر الگ ہو لیے . بلکے ان میں سے کچھ تو آج تک انسانوں سے اپنا مفاد نکلوانے کے لیے نت نئے حربے استعمال کر رہے ہیں اور ہماری قوم ایک اندھی تقلید میں ان کے پیچھے رواں دواں ہے.

اور اب ہمارے پوشیدہ آقاؤں نے ہمارے معاشرے میں ایک اور چڑھتا سورج بنانے کی تییاری کر لی ہے.

عمران خان . دودھ سے دھلا اور خوشبوؤں سے لبریز ایک نیا لیڈر. جس کو قومی شعور پر ہر طریقے سے سوار کردیا گیا ہے. میڈیا ، سوشل میڈیا ، جلسوں ، جلوسوں اور بہترین مارکیٹنگ کے ذریعے اب ہم سب کو یہ باور کر وایا جا رہا ہے کے بھروسے کے لائق اب پورے ملک میں صرف ایک یہ ہی موصوف بچے ہیں .

مگر افسوس تو ہماری قوم پر ہے . جو آج تک کئی بار بیوقوف بننے کے بعد بھی یہ ماننے کو تیّار نہں کے یہ سب ہم سب کے ساتھ ایک اور ڈرامے کی تییاری ہے. ہمارے ملک کا سواد اعظم  اب پھر اس چھڑتے سورج کے ویسے ہی پجاری بن چکے ہیں جیسے کے اس سے پہلے کئی حضرات کے لئے تییار اور آمادہ ہوے. اب یہ سورج کتنے دن کی بعد اپنی حدّت سے لوگوں کو جلا کر رکھ دے گا ، یہ شاید آنے والا وقت بوہت جلدی ہی بتا دے گا.

لیکن بار بار دھوکا کھا کر شاید صرف عقلمند ہی کوئی فائدہ اٹھاتے ہیں .....اقبال نے سہی ہی کہا تھا کے :

پھول کی پتی سے کٹ سکتا ہے ہیرے کا جگر
مرد ناداں پہ کلام نرم و نازک بے اثر  

“Lost..!”

People often say that the only time of peace in Pakistan is between one “Breaking News” and the other. Bombs, killings, accidents, calamities – since 2007 I can hardly recall a day that passed without we suffering from a constant barrage of breaking news bringing in the number after number of people who have died.

“3 people killed in target killing “10 die in a road side blast” “Numerous killed and injured in a suicide blast” – slowly, and I would admit my own guilt on that, we all have become numbed to the notion of death in our country.

It is a strange general behaviour of ours. If anyone tells us of a bomb blast or we read a story on a laptop/TV screen, the first thing we look for is the “number” of people who died in that blast. There is that urge to see “how many?” and strangely enough if we do not see a double-digit number then there is that sense of relief, oh “chalo yaar 5 log hi maray hain” (Oh well only five have died!).

Probably our breaking news-eager media has successfully shaped our national psyche to ignore any deaths that do not stack up to more than 30-50 at a time.

I remember the tale I read in a book somewhere about “Attila”. The Hun ruler who was quiet simply the person for Venice and Rome as Genghis Khan was for Baghdad. A mountain of skulls, plumes of fires seen from miles away was his favourite sight. Ferocious, cruel and clever, Attila is often remarked in the European history around the “speed” at which he attacked his targets. Using a breed of wild Hungarian/Nordic horses, Attila’s main feature of attack was his speed at which he covered at times huge distances and meet his enemy unprepared.

It is said that once Attila entered a suburban village of Northern Tuscany (Present day Italy) and razed everything to ground with flaming horse-archers force. He ordered all the villagers to gather in the ground outside the town area. Somehow, it transpired that the news of their attack was leaked beforehand and most of the villagers were able to flee before he reached the area. When Attila only saw a handful of men, he ordered all the prisoners to be tied to the horses and dragged to the next village. He continued to tie and drag people across 3-5 different villages until he had a massive number of people as prisoners.

He then ordered to cut everyone’s head off and stack them up in a single minaret of skulls. When asked why didn’t he killed everyone earlier he replied “I don’t enjoy killing, I just love counting, the higher the pile the more to count”

For us as a nation we have remarkably lost our sense of empathy. For us the number of killings have taken a far more important place in our consciousness than the value of life.

Today we celebrate “Youm e Shuhda” - when I look around myself and see the beautiful faces I’ve lost to this war and terrorism, I realise what a bunch of wretched humans we are.

We all live everyday engulfed in our little circles of pleasures and procrastinations. For us the breaking news is nothing more than a new number. We do not see the heart breaking stories behind these numbers. We do not think how one man killed on the mountains of Waziristan or the streets of Karachi can mean the whole world to someone. Shahnam, Umair, Jehangir, Sir Imran, Captain TJ, Major Zaka – they all are just names for us. What care do we do who they were? What have they left behind? There’ll be a new blast tomorrow to check the “score” of death. A new calamity to see the “number”, plenty do we have on our minds to think of these people.

Lost…we are lost, in the endless mire of social, moral and conscious bankruptcy..! 

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“The Breadman”

There is always that someone in our lives who might have spent only few moments with us, but when they are lost to the cruel winds of time we end up thinking what if I would have known him better?

Often it is a passing glance, an impromptu smile or a moment of confusion that leaves us with memories of people who came in our lives and swept pass leaving us in the everlasting wonder of who they were?? Why we met? Where they will be now??

Ultimately, incidence years later spark a sudden memory in some remote area of your brain, a face flashes by your eyes leaving you with a pensive smile or painful muttering.

Blessed I am that I’ve had so many people whom I’ve never known who they were, but their memory brings a sudden sense of happiness. I’ve met them in lands apart, in circumstances unimaginably different and reasons I still cannot fathom. But they remain in there, somewhere.

I’ve often thought about writing about these so many brilliant humans I’ve met. I find it very odd that we only praise others amongst us when they are taken away from us in some form. These “Eulogies” define that person who just died as extraordinary and this and that. But somehow in their lifetime, we never praise them enough. It’s just as if we only see the good in people when they are taken away?

So this goes out to someone I’ve literally known for just about few hours. I think if I collate all the time I’ve ever spent with him it won’t exceed more than 3-4 hours. In fact to be very honest we don’t know each other’s name!

Cold, dark, misty and treacherously freezing nights of Quetta. People who have lived in Quetta will be aware that the cold of Quetta is unique in its nature. The dryness of air and high elevation combines to take the wind through your bones and you end up gasping for breath.

It was a night in one of the long dark winter months. Quiet late by Quetta standards, the doorbell rang of our house amidst the roaring noise of winds. Going out from your warm bed to see who was there often was the point of conflict amongst us siblings, so there was that usual quarrel of who will go out and answer the door. I asked in a slightly raised voice:

“Kaun hai?”

“Bhai, am hai. Tandoor wala. Idhar kili kabeer ki taraf ka tandoor wala”

He answered in this voice slightly trembling due to cold.

“Kaun?”

I did not recognise, or perhaps my brain didn’t work out the logic of why a tandoor wala will be standing outside our house in this bitterly cold weather?

“Bhai am aai, am idhar tandoor par roti lagata hai. Who bhai ghar par hai jo aap ka roti lainay aata hai”

By then I did opened the door, wrapped in this torn “pattu”, wearing an old pair of peshawari chappal and nearly shivering next to an old “Sohrab” cycle was this lean shadowy figure.

He removed the part of his pattu from his face displaying the big bright smile and his full of happiness eyes.

“Oh aap mil gaya, bhai am itna dair say idhar chakkar laga raha tha aap ka ghar donndnay ko. Woh kona wala dukaan say am nay poocha tha kay who haji sahib or us ka teen beta kahan rehta hai..am ko naam nhn pata tha to am bus idhar itna chakkar lagaya gharoon ka to aap ka barabar waloon nay bataya kay haji sahib or us ka teen betay yahan rehta hai”

His happiness was apparent from the way he was speaking. Perhaps with his speech glands going numb in that cold he wasn’t sure himself of what he was saying. But he continued.

“Bus bhai am aap say milnay aaya tha..am kal Afghanistan jaa raha hai..abhi pata nhn hai wapsi mapsi kab tak hoga…bus aap kay liay yeh paratha banay tha um nay to yeh aap ko daita…chalo bhai bus dua karna..bara khushi hua aap ko mil kay..Allah Hafiz”

And that was it. He handed me a big shopper that was there on his cycle stand which was brimming with the distinct tandoori “parathas” made especially with butter and milk in Quetta. Handing me the bag he turned around, waved a hand to me and rode off in the dark of the night!

Photo Credits - Mohammad Omar

Who was he? Just our local breadman. He was the one who used to make the “Naans” at our local tandoor with the use of those two long steel arrow type things. And what I did for him? Honestly, I can’t remember. In all its reality at most I just used to greet him whenever I went to tandoor, a smile Assalam o Alaikum which he at times returned and at times not due to his pressure of work.

The most I can remember as “good” I did for him was that I never haggled for my number. Even if someone showed a bit of urgency behind me in the line (or the somewhat queue we had there) I just asked him to serve them first. He was illiterate so often when complicated arithmetic turned up he was nearly lost, so I usually helped him a bit on that. And if it was really busy and all the “Staff” got engaged in making the “Naans” I just sat down on his shop and managed the money in, money out for him (Nothing alarming as in that sense I’ve worked in numerous tandoors, chicken shops and with Sabzi walas)

Yet, when leaving for Afghanistan during the peak times of war, he didn’t forget me. He brought in as a gift the very best thing he had to offer. And I think in a number that he could have managed with the flour in his shop on that day. The bitter cold, bone crushing wind and heavy fog didn’t stop him from looking for more than 2-3 hours for me, he did delivered the “Gift” he wanted to!

I said, I hate writing eulogies. I know we never saw him at the shop again, his colleagues at the shop never heard from him again. No one knew where he went. But there is something telling me that he is alive, somehow, somewhere!

Smiling, as I am!

Inquilaab...

I woke up today to the sound of dripping rain on the windows, cold, dark and a misty morning. For a second the last 24 hours flashed in front of my eyes.

Last night I was sleeping rough on the most famous street of the country, with the eyes of the whole world on us. It was cold and freezing, probably sub-zero temperatures and I was out there with thousands of other people around me. There were no beds, no heaters, no quilts or even enough space for a person to have a lie-in comfortably, but we all were there.

There was only one thing holding us there, keeping us warm and providing us with light in the darkest of hours. Hope, there was hope that we all are in here to achieve the elusive ‘change’ that has evaded my country for so long. Waiting for a new dawn, a new era of freedom, peace, harmony and liberty which my land has so dearly missed. We all were united there for a purpose, a reason and a vision of future, a shared dream of millions to see Pakistan in a new light.

We waited, waited to hear from a person who stayed few feet away from us all in a fortified container. We all knew he had bedding, toilet and warm quilts in that container, we knew he was planets away from the ordinary man. But for us the person was not an issue, it was the ‘purpose’ that brought us there with him.

The morning came with a heavy shower, cold, unforgiving water drained down on us. People sheltered themselves for protection but no one was ready to leave their spots, we were steadfast that we do need that ‘change’ in our country that our generations have dreamed of.

A group of men from the Government came down after a deadline was given by our container bound leadership. Spirits were high, we believed that the person who has brought us out in the cold here for four days will negotiate everything that we wanted for ourselves, the destination was in front of our eyes.

And then after hours of negotiations we heard that a deal has been reached, the mood was jubilant. People were dancing, laughing, crying, thanking the almighty. There was belief that all the hardships and sufferings will end for us, that was it. For once in the history of our country we had achieved our goals without bloodshed, without any violence. There was a sense of pride that we are growing mature as a nation.

The deal was read out, congratulations bestowed all across and everyone happily started their journey back in a new world.

BUT?

I woke up and looked for the TV to see that change, or was there any?

President, still Asif Ali Zardari; check. Prime Minister, Raja Pervaiz Ashraf; check. National Assembly; intact. Senate; not a member disqualified. Judiciary; same as 24 hours before. Media; the same stories from 24 hours ago?

I rubbed my eyes in disbelief, I thought there was a mistake, something was wrong. I decided to take a walk outside on the outskirts of Islamabad, outside the beautifully crafted city and high rising buildings. Towards the slums, kacchi abadis where more humans dwell than the whole of concrete jungle of Islamabad.

There was quiet in the atmosphere, due to the cold only few people were awake. Calm and serene with plumes of smoke rising from few of the early morning risers. Nothing had changed!

I looked at myself in disbelief, once more, not for the first time anymore, I had been fooled! The mirage that generations after generations of my country had been after has once again proved us to be incompetent. Immature, childish, looking back I don’t know how a person blackmailed, tricked, fooled a whole nation within 40 days.

There were children playing outside the houses in a dirt patch, jumping with joy and freedom that only childhood can bring. Their bright faces unaware of the treachery that had been done with the generation of their parents. Oblivious to the looming disaster that their parents are leaving them for.

Indeed, my generation has failed once again, we have failed ourselves and our children. Will their generation do anything different from me?

Only time will tell!

Art of life..

I have only spent just under 24 years of life on this planet, and probably out of those 24 only about 10-15 years have been with some form of consciousness. However, I am amazed on how many changes I’ve seen in this very short span.

Rise and fall of some great personnel, world-conquering teams, feeble humans standing against the might of nature; plans coming together and things going absolutely perfectly and then a single moment breaking the years of build-up behind it. Personally, I’ve craved for so many things, spent hours giving my level best to achieve some results, and confoundingly when I achieved them, they meant nothing!

It is a very odd thing, the moment once you achieve something. It’s probably like climbing a very high mountain, you spent days doing so. You fight with the blistering winds, rough barren landscape, aching body, sleepless nights and God knows what other hurdles in your way just to reach the summit.

However, once you get there you forget everything that happened on the way, you feel elated, fulfilled, the sudden euphoria of feeling good about yourself.

Yet it doesn’t last; the feeling of containment lasts as long as you turn around and see that there is another peak in front of you that remains unclimbed. You immediately loose the sense of proportion to what you have achieved compared to the unbeaten challenge that lies ahead.

I remember my first flying experience. As a kid, I loved it when we all used to go to the airport regularly to drop my dad when he took flights around the country for his work. I remember we used to wait outside the airport at Quetta where we could see the planes taking off. There were no mobile phones, so we watched the runway side in anticipation as to when the plane will take off. We used to drive off only when it left the ground for air. Yet I kept my eyes fixed over the horizon to see the white gleaming bird disappearing in the distant skies.

But when I took my own first flight, somehow it left me amazed. Is that it? You take off with a thud, spend few hours constrained in a metal box, served something to eat from air hosts who are there doing their ‘job’ and you land back? I asked myself, is that the ‘charming’ plane travel that I was craving to do?

Then the story of army, it’s true I never actually wanted to join army – but when I first went to the selection centre and saw that more than 60,000 other youngsters are applying for Pakistan Military Academy, the sudden sense of competitiveness struck me. I felt that it would be a dent on my ‘pride’ if I failed to achieve this. I put in all the hard work I could have, running miles for building stamina, reading experiences of all previous applicants, getting advice from successful applicants and all that.

Yet as soon as I entered the gates of Pakistan Military Academy in Kakool, the curse of ‘un-fulfilment’ struck me. When everyone around me was proud of making it to the Academy out of 60,000 other candidates, I was thinking ‘ok, what now? I did get what I wanted, but what now?’

It’s not that I am driven by ‘desires’ to achieve more and more, rather contrary to that in every major review of my performance I’ve had with my managers, platoon commanders or personally with my friends – I’ve always been apprehended as having a ‘lack of ambition’. How many times I’ve heard people telling me that ‘you are not ambitious enough, look at all what you’ve got, you could achieve a hell lot more than what you have ’

Which always makes me think about what life really is? Isn’t it obvious that we keep chasing so many dreams in our life, so many objectives – but as soon as we achieve them, they loose all meaning! At the end of it, there is always something bigger to dream about, there is always something further to achieve.

Think about moving to a new city or house. When you move in, there is always that distinct, unique feeling of happiness; an odd sensation of ‘change’ that you can never describe in words. It feels amazing with new rooms, new neighbours and everything. However, slowly after the first few weeks that feeling evaporates. Everything again becomes a part of that ‘routine’; no matter how hard you try to conserve that feeling you can never have that sensation back again about the same very house that felt ‘new and brilliant’ some time ago.

It goes same for your new mobile, your new car, any new toy or gadget. You crave for something for ages, work hard towards it, probably save money for buying it, and make plans about using it. But as soon you ‘get’ there it often means nothing!

I wondered why is that? I started examining all my achievements, all my losses, the moments of pride and shame, the accounts of greatness and the tales of sadness, the feelings of love and the stories of hate. Frantically trying to make sense of it all, trying to find the missing piece to this jigsaw, clues to the solution, answer to the query!

And as again the answer was always out there!

Autumn, the answer was in the beautiful falling leaves. The yellowish-orange tinted leaves scattered around on roads and in parks at this time of the year.

I was standing beneath probably a few centuries old oak tree in the early morning haze in Oxford the other day when I saw this one leaf breaking from the branch and majestically making its way down to the ground.

It looked like an old warrior finally making his final journey. The yellow colour in the middle showing the signs of the hectic life it had lived. The green of the stem displaying the youth it once had. Beautiful plant patterns running across the face of it narrating the untold stories of love, hardships, friends and God knows what else he witnessed through his life.

The centuries old oak tree made a strange hissing sound due to the gentle breeze of morning, it felt like it was saying good-bye to one of its falling comrades. The other leaves on the tree were vibrating heavily with the wind as to waving their good byes to one of their own. It was truly nostalgic!

Nevertheless, it taught me the very thing I was searching for!

Life is after all just a journey.

A journey through things, people, feelings, achievements, losses, moments of joy, moments of sorrow, distances, travels, places, houses, loved ones, technologies, mobiles, laptops, lies, horrors, springs, devastations, hotels, restaurants, toys, landscapes, blizzards, storms, cuisines, sweets, clouds, and each and everything else. They are just parts of this journey, not the journey itself!

The reason why we feel unfulfilled after achieving everything is that we forget our journey and start focusing on the ‘things’ in that journey.

Shakespeare once said that the world is a stage and we all actors, but I think the reality is that the world is just an ‘act’. We are the audience, if we let our minds consumed by the act; we end up forgetting what is real.

The true art of life is the one of that leaf; it never forgets that it is in a constant journey. It grows after its birth; blossoms when its spring, reaches a refreshing green at the top of its life. However, as it reaches the top it starts turning yellow realising that as soon as the spring will be over it will have to leave the tree forever.

We are born without much apprehension; grow with each passing day in size and consciousness. We should blossom when its spring, but at the top of our strengths we should realise our journey and start planning for the 'final destination'.

If at any stage we loose focus of our journey, we will end up just as a rotten leaf!

Who is Muhammad (Peace be upon him)?

Muhammad (P.B.U.H) is the last in the line of many Prophets including Moses (P.B.U.H), Abraham (P.B.U.H), Jacob (P.B.U.H), Ishmael (P.B.U.H), Joseph (P.B.U.H) and Jesus (P.B.U.H) sent by the God on this earth for the purpose of guiding the mankind.

Similar to all other Prophets, Muhammad (P.B.U.H) reminded the world of the message of God which included:

• There is no deity worthy of worship except the one who created this whole life on the planet
• Human life on this planet is not an accident, but a carefully planned and executed exercise by God and for this reason the current life is connected to its aftermath where people will receive their reward and punishment accordingly
• With the understanding that every human will  be held responsible for all their actions in this world, it is important that they lead a life which is beneficial for them in this and the following world of reward and punishment
• For getting the best reward for your efforts in this world, there are few rules and regulations setup for you to test you in your efforts and qualify your actions for the different levels of rewards and punishments
• Follow the guidelines set for you and you will end up in the best of rewards and if not, then as every action has a reaction, you will receive the punishment of your deeds

This very simple message is the one which was propagated by all other Prophets before Muhammad (P.B.U.H) and the Last Prophet again reminded the humans about it. 

The uniqueness of Prophet Muhammad (P.B.U.H) was that he not only propagated a divine message based on monotheism, concept of day of judgement and Prophethood, but he also devised and implemented a unique social system in his local society which branched out further to provide the world with a completely new civilisation. 

A system based on the values of peace, honesty, brotherhood, respect for women, modesty, financial equality and diversity. This gift of a practical human society was the biggest achievement of Prophet Muhammad (P.B.U.H) which still guides Muslims all over the world

But didn’t Muhammad (P.B.U.H) fought many wars and introduced the concept of ‘holy war’?

Yes, but not for the purpose of violence or bloodshed. In fact for all accounts it is accepted that he personally rarely harmed any of his enemies. The idea of any struggle by Prophet Muhammad (P.B.U.H) was to ensure that the ‘values’ on which a new society was created in the state of Medina (his homeland) is protected against all elements who want to destroy it and bring back the inhumane practices of the past.

Thus any wars fought in that era were either to protect the new beginnings of that society or to expand the system to other areas in order to liberate humans of the wrong practices that were prevalent. Some examples of which are:

• Before the time of Prophet Muhammad (P.B.U.H) Arabs used to bury their young girls in order to save themselves of the ‘shame’ of having a girl. Prophet Muhammad (P.B.U.H) abolished that practice by law, even giving the happy tidings to fathers saying
  
  ‘Those who raise two daughters with respect, teach them the best education and marry them honourably is bound to be rewarded with heaven and live next to me’

• During those ages, slavery was a common thing and slaves were often suspect to inhuman treatment and hardships. Prophet Muhammad (P.B.U.H) devised the rule of equality in human society, in fact one of his most closest associated was Belal, an Ethiopian slave by background, and Prophet Muhammad (P.B.U.H) honoured him beyond anyone else. He once commented ‘Belal, I hear the sound of your feet ahead of me in heaven on the day of judgement’. The equality established in Muslim society by Prophet Muhammad (P.B.U.H) resulted in a complete abolishment of the ‘class’ system that was firmly established before him in the tribal Arab region

• Prophet Muhammad (P.B.U.H) established a unique wealth distribution system in the society where the top earners were made liable to look after the less privileged members of the society. In our current banking crisis, we have realised the importance of fair distribution of wealth, with wealthy people getting wealthier and the poor ones finding it increasingly difficult to make ends meet. This was the key aspect which Prophet Muhammad (P.B.U.H) took on to correct and formulated an economic model which made sure that all members of the society remain equal in monetary levels. While equally maintaining open trade links with neighbouring countries and states. By modern methods it is not difficult to estimate that the annual growth rate of Medina was far superior to any of the current financial superpowers

Now these new measures taken by Prophet Muhammad (P.B.U.H) faced strong opposition from the followers of existing systems who benefited by them making money on the expense of women, slaves and the poorer members of the society. And for the implementation of this system Prophet (P.B.U.H) even had to engage in battles to abolish the old tribal chiefs in Arab and kings outside the Arabian Peninsula

But why Muslims cannot accept any comments regarding Prophet (P.B.U.H), is not ‘freedom of speech’ exactly the kind of thing which Prophet Muhammad (P.B.U.H) stood for?

Yes, freedom of speech is exactly the kind of social value that Prophet Muhammad (P.B.U.H) established in the society of Muslims and propagated, in fact Prophet Muhammad (P.B.U.H) said ‘Saying the truth in-front of a tyrant ruler is the highest order of struggle in the way of God’

But for Muslims and Prophet Muhammad (P.B.U.H) human sentiments, honour and respect are far important values than freedom of speech. Everyone has the right to say what they believe is right, but if it infringes someone else’s privacy, their respect and botches their honour then that should not be accounted in the freedom of speech. As you should not abuse anyone because of their race, their colour or any deformity in their body, similarly no one should have the right to ridicule, insult and make fun of anyone else’s ‘beliefs’

For Muslims, Prophet Muhammad (P.B.U.H) is not only a personality whom they love and admire, but he is part of their belief, forming the very fabric of Islam which Muslims have chosen as their pathway for life. 

Once any film, cartoon or caricature ridicules the personality of Prophet (P.B.U.H) in anyway or form, they are not just making fun of any person, but a person who is the source of faith and belief for nearly 1 billion humans on this planet. This makes the act of any ridicule towards Prophet Muhammad (P.B.U.H) a much severe act against humanity.

We all humans are equal in our emotions, most often we can hear any insults towards ourselves and our physical appearance, but as soon as anyone utters a word against our loved ones we lose our temperament. May it be our parents, our family, our friends or our country; any insult directed towards someone or something we love hurts us more than even any physical injury.

And the love of Muslims for our Prophet Muhammad (P.B.U.H) is nothing compared to any of our existing relationships. It’s a sacred relationship, a love based on devotion, faith, belief and thankfulness for that one personality which provided the guidance for millions of souls to follow him towards the righteous path.

We cannot comprehend what would have happened if Prophet Muhammad (P.B.U.H) would not have revolutionised the human race. Maybe we would still have half the population on this plant as slaves, may be young girls would still be buried alive in hot deserts for the shame they brought, maybe we would still be ruled by kings who would kill anyone saying a word against them, maybe these 1 billion people of this planet would still be lost in worshipping false Gods and ending up in severe punishments

Prophet Muhammad (P.B.U.H.) guided us humans with love, patience, affection and relentlessly struggled against anyone who wanted to impose a system of cruelty on humans. He taught us the values of respect for women, the respect of parents, the right of neighbours, love for poor, equality of humans and above all self-respect as individuals.

This and only this is the reason why Muslims so ferociously protest against any single thing aimed at our Prophet (P.B.U.H). The anger in Muslims for such a thing to happen is matchless; I have seen 90 year old people weeping in anguish as to why they don’t have the strength in their bodies to protect the honour of Prophet Muhammad (P.B.U.H) I have seen the willingness to break even the Mount Everest in the eyes of youngsters if it stands in the way of protecting the honour of their beloved Prophet (P.B.U.H)

The hurt feelings, the shattered hopes, the weary faces of Muslims from the plains of US to the deserts of Arabia and beyond in the mountains of Himalaya represent the extraordinary pain these one billion humans are suffering from such an act of heinous crime against their beloved!

And thus it is the responsibility of me, you; Muslim or not, but as humans to support the campaign to ban anyone from committing such an act in the future. If we don’t take a stand for the hurt feelings of our fellow humans then this will transcend into breaking the very social fabric which makes us ‘human’. It will be a loss not for Muslims, but for humanity!

Which we in this world should not allow to happen!

The case of anarchy, chaos and fear…

''Someone asked Christopher that question yesterday, and he said he didn't intentionally think of anything political in the development of the story. So I think the politics here, if there are any, is like art or beauty, it's largely in the eye of the beholder''

Only Morgan Freeman could have put it in such an eloquent manner when asked about the underlying political themes in the Batman series directed by Christopher Nolan.

I must admit, I’ve always felt there was a very deep political motive in the modern Batman series throughout. And now reading the storyline for the third one, I have to say that these three movies present a very interesting study on the everlasting struggle between good and bad in human societies.

Somewhat the underlying similarities between the ideologies of ‘The League of Shadows’ and the modern ‘Al Qaeda’ phenomena of ‘correcting a society with extreme measures’ are undeniable, the oddly attractive concept of ‘breaking it’ to make it better.

Ras Al Ghul (brilliantly played by Liam Neeson) has a distinctive vision on how a broken society can be mended – if it’s beyond repair the only way to get it sorted is to destroy it and start again. Name it revolution, uprising, revolt or anarchy. If you need a change for the system, then that system has to be uprooted in its entirety; probably taking a good chunk of everything including ‘human lives’ with it.  (Do we know a society which is beyond repair??)

Then the second part contains the brilliant ‘joker’, the epitome of ‘chaos’! Where you don’t know who is who and what is what. The ‘two faced’ nature of different forces in society, good becomes evil and evil veils as good.

Why the joker is the prime example of chaos? Apart from his most famous ‘why so serious’ line – I think the conversation between Alfred and Bruce Wayne says a lot about him:

‘With respect Master Wayne, perhaps this is a man that *you* don't fully understand, either. A long time ago, I was in Burma. My friends and I were working for the local government. They were trying to buy the loyalty of tribal leaders by bribing them with precious stones. But their caravans were being raided in a forest north of Rangoon by a bandit. So, we went looking for the stones. But in six months, we never met anybody who traded with him. One day, I saw a child playing with a ruby the size of a tangerine. The bandit had been throwing them away.

So why steal them?

Well, because he thought it was good sport. Because some men aren't looking for anything logical, like money. They can't be bought, bullied, reasoned, or negotiated with. Some men just want to watch the world burn’

This is the character that has befallen many societies; Temujin, Atilla, Hitler, Stalin, Mladic. They are the ‘Gotham jokers’ of our real world - they never had any logic, any ideology, any objective –   they just wanted to see the world burn!

And now comes the last part – the final and by far the worst destroyer of modern human society. ‘Fear’ – arguably Bane is more about brute force wearing a mask which pumps anaesthetics in his body all the time. But more than his force it is the ‘fear’ which gives him the unchallenged control over the whole city.

Potentially ‘Fear’ is far more destructive for a human society than anarchy or chaos. Because fear doesn’t physically damage the society; it makes it mentally dead.

Unable to think clearly, unable to breathe openly, unable to express freely. It’s fear that annihilates the very fabric of human nature that allows us to differentiate ourselves from animals by living with each other in peace and harmony. It might not limit social interaction but it takes out the love in that interaction. It preys on human thoughts, ideas, creativity and slowly consumes the whole ‘soul’ of societies leaving them nothing other than a mechanically manufactured structure void of emotions and feelings.

What all is left behind is a soul-less framework of human droids who only want to survive for themselves. Their existence is limited to earning a livelihood and then consuming it for their own selves.

The prime example? Nothing other than my own birthplace! The city I’ve cherished throughout my life, the place where I learned to dream, the glowing coast where I found the beauty of nature, the place where moon-soons brought a new meaning to joy for me after the tantalising heat. My childhood retreat, my summer holiday destination, the city which spread colours in my eids, the streets which gave a new meaning to ‘playgrounds’ , the ‘bride’ of cities, the city of lights, joys, memories, delicious foods, bustling bazaars. The city like no other city in the world…Karachi!

Fear, fear of MQM, Altaf and his band of killers has destroyed my city! Yet it is all lost now!

Though Gotham is just a fictional place, but look closely and you will see the similarities between the famous Hollywood town with the city of Karachi. Corrupt officials, disillusioned elite, fractious neighbourhoods, gangs and local ‘warlords’ and then to add on it the ‘fearful’ ordinary humans.

A mentally ill man who is sitting hundreds of miles away gives a call for a strike in the city and there is not a single shop open throughout the number of malls and bazaars. He has the power to appear on every single media channel for 5 consecutive hours without any commercial break, thousands gather like cattle sheep on his single call for a ‘rally’. Every single member of his so-called political party cannot even utter a word anywhere without first mentioning his name and thanking him for 5-10 times continuously. Parks, roads, highways are named in his honour, on the name of his mother, family, relatives and there is no one who can say a word against it. He has the power to order killing of anyone, the power to have a foreign national become a governor of his province for more than 10 years, he can get journalists killed, businessmen held on ransom, appear on TV channels whenever he likes and sing/dance/tell stories of his liking to a crowd of human robots who clap absent-mindedly on his every move. Chant slogans of his name after every pause, thanks him for everything in their lives more than they even might be thankful to their creator.

Why is that all?? Just because of ‘fear’ – people of Karachi right from the first day of MQM’s creation in 1980’s have stumbled against this fear; gradually losing their senses, feelings, emotions, thoughts and finally ‘souls’ to this monster.  

Now they are numbed, completely senseless and limited to their own existence. People in Karachi are now slaves of their own fear. They endure strikes, target killings, bhatta, ghunda gardi, loss of peace and harmony but don’t make a single noise, don’t take a single action and continue living a cursed life.

The fear of MQM has taken the better of them!

How will this change?? Anarchy?? Chaos?? Or become the fear of their fears??

Are they happy with the compromise they have made with their fears or they want to rise again and be the Karachi that it once was??

The choice is in their own hands…

‘Took quite a fall, didn't we, Master Bruce?
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And why do we fall, Bruce?

So we can learn to pick ourselves up’