How Cheap have the politicans sold Pakistan?

Our colleges and universities are being guarded by covert military operations. Our libraries and dormitories are no longer safe. We have buried our fathers and elders as they stand waiting anxiously for their paychecks. Our sisters and mothers have been scattered amongst the rubble as they were shopping with smiles embarked upon their petal lips. Our children have been shot at during regular school hours. This is insanity speaking in the true and vibrant colors of life. I can no longer remain silent. Words have to stem out of the silence to create a gesture of expression. I cannot withstand another day of innocent lives being sent to heaven and the crimes are still unknown.
If this was America, the entire nation would have stampeded into the senate demanding in writing a report deciphering the faults of the government and reasons of failure to host secure and prosperous measures. The American communities will be questioning each and every government official related to homeland security about the measures and action items. And in our part of the world, our federal minister for interior is pebbled with shoes and stones as he tries to enter the Islamic University after two consecutive bombs killed 6 innocent lives. Still he remains the unique ideology of governance.
Within the domain of Pakistan foreign planes bombard our own cities and the media keeps no trail of the accusations and the assaults. To the people, the dead bodies are only numbers. Participants who had to brutally die as they are negotiating with the west against the war on terror. Have the think tanks of Americans forgotten that the true enemies might not be the militant assailants of the north western frontiers but the clever and benign politicians who have sold the country at a dirt cheap price?
Where did this all begin? Who allowed selling the nation at such a price? I have buried my family due to the war on terror alone. My father has died of malpractice and my mom has faced road accidents due to people not caring of the traffic lights. Is this the social and moral fabric that Quaid left behind? We require answers now. Our generations will not sleep to the whispers of the night. Our generation will speak till our blood is spilled in the streets. My heart will amalgamate with the screams of the innocent lives that are left unburied. I am ready to die with the song of freedom in my soul. That cannot be killed with a cheap bullet. You cannot sell my aspirations for they are not for sale. Let us ring the bells of faith. Let us all unite.
Problem is that we have no outlet. The political system is so corrupt that honest liberations can not follow pursuit. The sun rays are trying their level best to succeed into the prism of darkness. But the political clout is placing their hands on every single nook and corner of the room. Sun rays are being diverted and left to remain outside the prism of life. And within these walls, I am trapped. You are trapped. And our senators, advisors, and the political system keeps on breathing poverty, terror and fear in our minds and souls.
Interestingly, no provincial government is taking precautions measures to streamline and improve the deplorable situation. Even the so called hero of Punjab sits ideally as the massacres in Punjab take place. All I read in the newspapers is transfers of the social political bureaucracy. I do not see legitimate and conducive action plans in full force. The same police officers at the road barricades are sipping tea and the dormant traffic wardens never trail down the ambushed calls pleading for assistance. The police force still has the same recruitment being fired at time and time again. No snipers within the college domains and no policy making of the nazims to garner people into building secure environments to fight crime. Is this the magnanimous work of the PML –N? We might have expected more from an educated governor and a profound and vocal administrator. Their promises mean nothing. I have buried my loved ones. When will they die?
Is this the Pakistan we are to give to our generations? Are we going to remain silent as these walls cave in? Look closely at your face today. This face might not remain on the surface today. Due to the political chaos and mayhem created by our forefathers. Sad is that I do not know who created this mess. Bhutto as he steered us into the complete nemesis or the vibrant colors of the dictatorial governance of Zia Ul HAQ. Instead of disengaging their families from the political systems we have blessed them with ministries and even the presidential chair.

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The fatal laugh of the NRO

Complete insanity. The NRO is the agreement that will allow all the corruption and deceit ever done by the current and previous predecessors and wipe the dirt under the carpet. All the illegal activity will be wiped away by a smear of political deterrence leaving behind a history of trial and errors that never went through correction. Imagine a world where criminals sign off on documents that legitimate their wrong.
As a nation, we need to stand up and confront the wrong. It is not acceptable to the nation and its people to let leaders commit drastic variances in the system and have a rule of engagement to vanish their devastations and remarkable mistakes. The impacts of their errors have been drastic in nature. Children have died. Parents have been buried. Hundreds and thousands of people have lost their jobs. Billions of rupees have been transferred into accounts outside of Pakistan. Are we to forgive them? And for what reason? How can scoundrels be let go without a price? Can we leave the corpse to be eaten by the vultures?
As a layman and a social number in the massive and populous network of Pakistan, I can only write and predict that history will not forgive the men and women who agree that washing away the sins will neglect and turning the other side will be the solution. How can we not agree to banish this law? Why is this law even in existence?
What teaching story will this have on the educational masses? Are we communicating that we are fine with corruption and we will always have an offensive analysis and forgiving mindset. A profligate government will not remain on the surface of the world. It will be obliterated into a million pieces. This is the stubborn associated with a race that is silent. Will we not listen to our hearts? Our prodigies are looking at us with the most perturbed and vehemently emotional eyes. And where we stand today. Again, on a cross road. Will we remain silent and let the corrupt walk on? Will we give a rebirth to our convictions and stand committed. Let’s walk.

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We have no heros?

You will not regret leaving me in peace. The world will remind you that we once lived. These tragedies will keep you alive. We are not to be burnt alive and be buried in the gardens of our fate. We will live endlessly and passionately. You will remember our love and our understandings. We are the people of the world that will keep on enjoying the privilege of life. I bet this is similar to the words that the boundaries and death bodies can instill in us as we bury them into the graves. You have killed our children, our soldiers, our parents. But you have left alone the politicians and the corrupt? Why is that? What is the justice in this all?
I believe in peace and still believe that a settlement of life needs to be imbedded into the demolished social and moral fabric of this nation. Our melancholic stance on life is to remain silent. As if someone has zipped our souls and kept our breaths. This is no substitute for life. This is not the Pakistan I am going to leave behind. I will fight with my words. I will unite the sentences for generations to come to tell about the miseries of today. I will openly claim that we are not destined to such graphical horror and tragedies.
The entire system is corrupt. It does not leave behind a road for any man to walk on. Either you try to become a part of them and then when in, work from the inside out. That is almost impossible since it has never occurred before. This toothsome offer only exists in fairy tales. Nothing more. Where does it say that our lives and souls will be expropriated for social and moral injustice?
We have a million questions. Why did Nawaz Sharif allow sign off on the NRO on the condition that he be allowed to run the third time? Why have the senators agreed upon accepting the NRO? Is there no one to contemplate on the current situation? I have a pen. So I write. The men ruling the country should think of their mistakes and what they are doing to us all! We need to take accountability. But how?
Let us live! Let us be free! What have we done! Who are we waiting for ? Our deaths? Our dreams to sink into the abyss of fate? Our silence is our derogation. Oh Pakistan wake up!

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I want to know my post mortem

I want to know my post mortem

Over ten thousand bodies have been annihilated in the streets of Pakistan. Hundreds of people have buried their loved ones to dirt. Over a thousand mutilated extended families complete devastated from this ongoing turmoil. Our schools, shopping malls, police stations and even our worship places are all on the list of being incinerated without a price and without justification. Imagine, back into the pages of lost history, where Lahore was known for its botanic gardens and Karachi was the upbeat mesmerizing city of Asia. And today, the gardens are depleted and the magnanimous city without light and bodies.
Is this the Pakistan our parents fathomed for us? I weep as I leave behind the atrocious monster to eat up at our left overs. Our silence is remarkable. Every one of us is sitting idle and anticipating that tomorrow maybe this nightmare will wash itself away. Needless to see we are a part of this horrific nightmare. Every beautiful child that is born in this nation will now have its fate written in the slaughterhouses of unknowns. Our mothers will vanish by the collapse of buildings as the car bombs keep on shaking our cities. Our fathers will be buried beneath the rubble as the vigilant sounds of terror vamoose into the mosques and offensively left them dead as their bodies were prostrating to their lord.
I will not believe for an instance that these great martyrs died in vain. I will not bury my loved ones anticipating more to come. I vouch that I will write. I testify that I will not let go of the dreamland that has given me meaning and my identity. I will write till my heart bleeds no more and I perish into the night. My words are for my country. My sentences the veneer of hope and understanding. With these walls I will build my palace and raise the silent into a vehement voice. No governance and law can become a detriment in our journey to salvation. Will you not join me and communicate the message of tolerance and liberation? Will you not write with me the testifying moments of brutality? Will you not walk on the streets when we speak up against violence?
Our government has been deciphering different messages since the inception of the terror bomb. Pakistan might have created the atomic bomb, but the greatest nemesis bomb that can obliterate entire nations is the terror bomb. Both bombs being manufactured by the western ideologies. Question is are we ready to take its toll? Why is our government not giving us the message? Who is behind the massacres? I want to know my enemy. I will haunt it down with my life. But who is it? Is it RAW? USA? Who really is it? Is it you? Is it me? I need a post mortem report.
What happened to the communication of the terrorists that were captured in different deadly encounters? Have we not allowed their tongues to speak? Give this nation a report. Give our enemies a face. Give my life meaning. Give me Pakistan.

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Poem for the children who have died in Islamabad

She holds me tight
At the gates of her school
Armed military personal monitoring how a father kisses his daughter goodbye
Weren’t these soldiers to be deployed at the borders?
Shouldn’t the teachers be receiving my little princess?
She does not let go
Something deep within her
Tells her to hold on tight
Her eyes glistering with freight, despair and guilt
An inner reflection of my soul and identify
I look at people around me
The lurid clouds of a nemesis
Shadowing our future and our potential prosperity

October 27, 2009 – when terrorist attached Islamabad

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To the Lives of Peshawar who died with me

Today they have bombarded me into a millions shreds
In my own homeland
On my own streets
With my loved ones watching
My children a part of my life’s tragedy
My voice buried beneath the rubble and dirt
I am now lifeless
But what makes you silent?
Wont you speak volumes of my tragic death?
Wont you take revenge of the innocent lives that have been taken today?
Remember as you remain silent
The empty graves next to me
Are awaiting your bodies
I will be waiting
I will be anticipating………

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Our children died today in Peshawar

I held my daughter tight as the city shook with vehement force. Depilated buildings and mutilated bodies scattered across the open streets. Just minutes ago, there was a certain ambiance of speculated peace and tranquility. After all, Peshawar has been recently rocked by bullets, terrorism, sectarianism and violence. Innocent lives have been buried in the dusty graveyards and tears have still not stopped oozing out of red swollen eyes of loved ones. Is this the Peshawar that we recall of? Is this the face of the earth that is a glimmering and reflecting mirror of our own self destructive alliances?
I never did let go of my daughter. She kept on wondering how fright and despair embarked on her father’s superman eyes. To her I was her everything. A man who could make her smile on every rainy day and give to her flowers in the cold brazen nights of October. She insists that I have a superman cap and costume hidden away. She veneers my love with superhero talk. This time all superheroes are silent. Perturbed silence. If we stay ambushed like this, we will lose our voice forever.
To stay silent in times like these will mean that we accept and acknowledge the nemesis ahead of us. Memories of turmoil and desolation accentuate as we live off our lives second by second. Prayers breathe out with each passing of a breath and our heartbeats tremble when unknown noises occur. We live in a horror movie and do not know the outcome. This is the worst form of governance. The ultimate disaster of the human spirit. Now I know how the Jewish children felt as the lay aimlessly waiting for their execution. The nation of Pakistan is no different. Each day. Someone somewhere will be killed. There is a bullet that has your name on it. Time and speed are the only question marks.
I have dreamt a million times to devour myself into the political scene and become the hero that Pakistan badly needs. The political insignificance associated with an educated class is common ground. This is the country where false commitment and bogus votes are allocated to the government bodies. Elections are rigged and a fierce competition is associated amongst the mongrels. This is the only nation that has rapists, murders and people who have spent time in jail allowed to contest elections and further plunge this nation into darkness.
We are without electricity, water and opportunity. This is the world that has been carved after so many struggles and lives. I cannot allow this nation to be handed over to my generations without a fight. Another struggle remains. Gateways of hope will be built. Question is how. Will these words recall armies and multiply elements of good? Can I imagine that one day the people who have lost their lives can hail as one and communicate to the world that the real Pakistan remains silent? The world only knows of the bombarded Pakistan. My foreign friends have associated violence with my name and have marked me off of their listings. This is the price I pay for having this nation’s passport. I am humiliated at airports and struck off lines as I have a brownish skin tone.
Maybe someday my words will become a giant and take control over the despair and anarchy. But today, I write as my hands still tremble. My daughter is still close by. She is shocked at having witnessed such a massive explosion. Young children bodies lay ambushed in the fumes. She is only three. What would she think now? Can you imagine what would happen if it were your children? Is this not the end of innocence?
I met some of the men who lay crying on the streets and ready to forgive the men who have slaughtered these poor and innocent lives. Our mosques have not even been forgiven. Our streets have become grounds on which our bodies lay. These same grounds that were built for out pathways. Imagine a world that we live in.
Questions pound at the doors of the political system. Do these men not see the garbage on the streets and the empty factories and locked down furnaces? We should question everything from the contaminated rivers to the polluted cities? In the last 60 years, we were not able to build anything except our graves. This is not the Pakistan I intent to keep. This is not the Pakistan I have voted for.

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