Pain; my loyal companion.

The sun was blazing brilliantly above his head, the air around him was full of moisture and every breath was suffocating. This was very typical in Lahore during the Monsoon season after spending ten years in the cool breezes of the United States, he seemed to have forgotten what it felt like to be in HIS city during the mid-summers. 

How eccentric can man be? For a moment he thinks that the world owns him, but a few years of alienation can turn home into a foreign land.

As he approached the magnificent blue gate at the end of the road, two guards saluted him. In Pakistan, earning a layman’s respect is not an arduous ordeal stepping out of an exorbitant car and wearing a flamboyant suite never fails to do the trick. He marched forward with a slight grim on his face, trying to maintain his demeanour in the humidifying weather. After all, he had stepped out of a black Mercedes, he had to keep up to his personal, otherwise what would the guards think of him?

As soon as he set his foot inside the building, in an ephemeral moment, the colours around him began to fade, he felt as if he had been transported in another universe . The worldly tensions that had bent his shoulders suddenly vanished, instead, an air of coolness and easiness engulfed him and all this reminded him of his time in this very building. 

 As he stood next to the gigantic peepal tree, his vision could cover the trivial and minutiae happenings of the school. The colossal door of the Grand Hall stood exactly there as it had fifteen years back. Whilst the coveted Wall of Fame stood magnificently on his right; it housed the portraits of every promising student and alumni. It was his dream to have his picture on the wall, but today, after fifteen years, he did not come back to see his picture. He was yearning for something else. In the midst of all this, he suddenly remembered, during his time at the school, it was every student’s dream to have their picture up on the Wall.

All the bygone memories and the emotions that had taken hold of his mind and soul transported him back to the time when he was one of the many pupils studying in the school. 

“10 years from now, you’d be leading the region’s largest conglomerate.”, a familiar voice echoed in his mind. “We’ll see about that, I have different plans for my life.” He replied. “HAHA!! You’ll end up inheriting you family business. Don’t you worry about that, my child!” His friend jokingly remarked. All that managed to rekindle his melancholic spirit.

The ringing of the afternoon bell brought him back into this world. The playground echoed with the hue and cry of students of different ages. The senior boys walked casually strolling down the hallway with their ties loosely hanging around their necks; the younger lot cheerfully playing on the swings’ side. Girls walking and chattering along the way.

In the midst of all this, he strolled towards his ultimate aim: relive the memory he had been cherishing and savouring all these years. It was that very bench, surrounded in the old, giant trees, where fate gave him the moment that gave him hope during his darkest times.

The seemingly ordinary white bench gave him all the comfort in the world, often reminding him of the day when he saw her.

He still remembered that fateful afternoon vividly. The sky was blue, the summer clouds covered the horizon. At that time, his persona was filled with youthful vigour. ‘I seemed to be overly pleased with my life… what has happened to me now? What good did she have in herself that made me hate myself?’ His mind shot these questions at him. 

All of a sudden, he saw his youthful self standing in the middle of the playground with his peers. All of them laughing, shouting and howling. Their month-long painstaking examinations had finally come to an end and they had gathered to celebrate their freedom.

“Ah! I’ll finally be able to join mom and dad in Canada!” his friend had remarked and one by one they all narrated their pre-planned anecdotes for the future. Suddenly, something else caught hold of his attention. The voices of his friends started to diminish.

He could still hear his friends talking, but somehow their voices were muted. Everything had paused. He had a tunnel vision only of her. It was only her that he could see. She, sitting on the white marble bench with her feet crossed – so majestic. Minutes went by and he continued to look at her, not batting an eyelid. He had seen her before, but not like this. There was something about her that attracted him towards her. She sat on the white bench, her legs criss-crossed, her her open and were slowly swaying in the air. He could feel his heart thumping; he had never experienced something like that ever before never felt before. A feeling of uneasiness engulfed him.

Slowly, he was inching towards her. 

Her gaze met his and his heart began beating faster and faster. His whole body went numb, it felt as if the entire universe had stopped to give him THAT one moment to savour all his life.

The very next moment, he raised his hand to say “Hi!”, but his kind gesture was interrupted by the girl’s friend who whispered something in her ear and both of them started chatting, without caring of their surroundings.

His phone rang and his shoulders shrugged bringing him back to his ‘high-life’, “I’d be right there” and he hung up the phone.

He was a prisoner of his regrets and this was his punishment. For twenty years, she pecked his brains, reminding him of the mistake he  made. Today, after twenty years of suffering, he welcomed the pain, it is the sensation which he thought would liberate him from his life long friend: pain.

He turned around walking towards the life that he had chosen for himself: a life filled with pain and regret.

In the Name of Allah

(Disclaimer: This poem refers to the tyrannical rule established by the Islamic State(IS) and is the perception of the writer about their imperious dominion in parts of Iraq and Syria )

In the name of Allah,

I behead a fellow Muslim.

In the name of Allah,

I torment a woman.

In the name of Allah,

I demolish ancient history.

In the name of Allah,

I abuse a fellow citizen.

In the name of Allah,

I misemploy power and authority.

In the name of Allah,

I rule land through draconian laws.

In the name of Allah,

I halt female education.

In the name of Allah,

I execute innocent souls.

In the name of Allah,

I terrorize thousands of people.

In the name of Allah,

I misinterpret my religion.

In the name of Allah,

I take justice in my hands.

In the name of Allah,

I fail to distinguish between a man and an animal.

In the name of Allah,

I force thousands to flee

In the name of Allah,

I enslave women and children.

In the name of Allah,

I bow down before Almighty.

In the name of Allah,

I callously take power in my hands.

In the name of Allah,

I misguide thousands of His men.

In the name of Allah,

I eat and pray.

In the name of Allah,

I shall die.

In the name of Allah,

I seek His mercy……

Pakistan: A nation of pretence

In our state of affairs where step of an individual is judged or misjudged (being more precise), one often has to live life in a very calculated and ‘orderly’ manner.  From time to time, questions are raised on the social norms, values and culture of our society.One such affair which astounds me is hypocrisy. An act of pure evil which is condemned by our religion, Islam, but us, the faithful followers of the religion of ‘Truth’, ‘enlightenment’ and ‘modesty’ have made hypocrisy our religion. 

Here a few common examples which reflect the intensity of our hypocritical society:

1.     It is a sin to talk to a stranger, yet marrying one is a cultural norm.

Be it a boy or a girl, if you have been found interacting with a person from the opposite sex, you ought to be in deep trouble, even if there is nothing going on between the two. Why? Well, the answer is simple…. A girl and a boy can never be friends there has to be something more between the two. 

 2.     Guys smoke; so what?? But when a girl does the same……

“Oh my Lord, how can this be??”… “Ajj kal ki larkiyan, Allah he bachiye” (Girls these days, May God protect us from them). One often gets to witness such exasperated episodes, but when a boy does the same. We simply shake it off!  

 3.     We take pride in not interacting with the ‘lower’ class yet our children our raised by maids.

It has become a social norm in the middle and the upper middle class to hire a maid or two to raise  children. The parents are far too busy to look after their off-springs therefore ‘ayaas’ are hired to look after the children, after all the parents are doing the best they can! 

 4.     We spend millions and millions on flamboyant wedding parties yet when a politician does the same. He becomes a traitor.

Wedding ceremonies are of utmost significance in our culture and money is spent like continuously running water. Yet, when a politician follows the same path, he is subjected to nation-wide criticism and is subject to media scrutiny. 

 5.     Do not offer prayers, yet are the first ones to point fault in others.

Many of us have been blessed with such gracious personalities who, seldom during their life time have offered a prayer, yet are the first ones to chatter about ‘Islamic dressing’, ‘blasphemy’ and ‘desired- religious acts’.

 As a nation, we have become accustomed to the culture of hypocrisy that is now, no longer seems an oddity. I hope that someday, we’ll truly understand the essence of the following quote of Khalil Gibran;

I AM A SHIA, AND I PROTEST!

The Shia community is a Muslim minority sect and is differentiated from the majority Sunni sect on the basis of a few Islamic principles.

What started off as homage to the martyrs of Karbala 1400 years ago has now become a ritual for us. For years, in almost every corner of the World, we celebrate the Islamic month of Muharram with religious fervor to mourn and mark the death anniversary of Hazrat Imam Hussein (A.S); the grandson of the Holy Prophet (P.B.U.H) and his seventy one companions, who stood up for the true Islamic spirit whose essence was forgotten in the tyrannical, extremist and barbaric rule of Yazid Ibn Muawaiya. He and his followers finally laid their lives in order to save the sanctity and purity of the religion of his grandfather: Islam.

For as back as 720AD, amicable religious processions (jaloos) and Majlia -e- Aza (gathering to mourn) are held in every corner of the country to pay tribute to Imam Hussein (A.S) and his staunch companions, but, sadly since 2003 we; the Shias in Pakistan have been a victim of ‘Sectarian violence’.

The first major outbreak of the Shia-Sunni conflict (as it is primarily termed) took place in the hustling bustling vicinity of Laiquat Bazaar, Quetta (Baluchistan),In an Imambargah (Shia Mosque) that killed 123 people and wounded many others.

From then on, such attacks on the Shia community have become a norm and this heinous crime marked the commencement of a new chapter in the history of Pakistan: ‘Sectarianism’.

Acts of ghastliness and nefariousness against the Shias followed the tragedy of Quetta. In October 2003, 12 Shia cadets were shot down in Quetta purely because of their religion.

As many as 4,000 people are estimated to have been killed in Shia-Sunni sectarian fighting in Pakistan between 1987–2007.And since 2008 "thousands of Shia" have been killed by Sunni extremists according to the human rights group Human Rights Watch. Among those blamed for the sectarian violence in the country are mainly Sunni militant groups, such as the Lashkar-e-Jhangvi, Sipah-e-Sahaba, Tehrik-i-Taliban Pakistan (affiliates of Al-Qaeda). Lashkar-e-Jhangvi "has claimed responsibility for most attacks" on Shia according to Human Rights Watch.

For the last 5 years Shias in the whole country no longer feel safe. On December 28, 2009, a bomb exploded in the Ashura procession killing 40 people and wounding dozens. In September 2010, a bomb exploded in Lahore followed by Quetta, causing 90 casualties and wounding 160 people.

Not only have the Shias have been slaughtered ruthlessly in bomb-blasts, they; every now and then have been victims of ‘target killing’. In June 2010, 7 intellectuals and bystanders were shot down in Karachi (mostly Shias). On the inauspicious morning of 18^th February 2013, unidentified gunmen shot Dr Syed Ali Haider and his 11 year old son in the posh vicinity of Gulberg, Lahore. Dr Syed was a leading a vitreo-retinal surgeon, who also worked in collaboration with the Shaukat Khanum Memorial Trust Hospital.

But, the most desolate tragedy of all: The multiple bomb-blasts in Quetta on the unpropitious day of 10 January 2013, which killed 130 people and wounded 270. Protests in Quetta by the city's Shia community erupted the day after the bombings, with protesters and local Shia officials refusing to bury those killed until the Pakistani army took control of security in the city. Protests also broke out over the weekend of 12–13 January in Karachi, Lahore, Peshawar, Islamabad and ten other smaller cities around the country. On 13 January, Prime Minister Raja Pervez Ashraf visited protesters in Quetta and agreed to dismiss provincial government officials, though he refused to implement military control in the city.

Early on 14 January, he announced that Baluchistan Chief Minister Aslam Raisani and his cabinet had been removed from their posts, with Zulfikar Ali Magsi appointed to lead the provincial government. In response, Quetta Shias agreed to end their protests and begin burials later in the day. Alas, all the attempts went in vain as the government has not been successful in bringing an end to this extermination against the Shias.

It has been two months since the commencement of the year 2015 and the Shias have fallen target  inhumane act of bomb-blasts. No plea was heard when dozens cried in Chittya Hattiyan ( Rawalpindi), no politician responded when the Imam Bargah Karbala-e- Maula was targeted in Shairkpur (Sindh); No statement was issued by law enforcement against when worshipers were slaughtered in Peshawar and neither was yesterday’s bombing at a Shia Mosque was condemned by  the elite!

When the Army Public School massacre took place on 16^th December 2014, within a few days a National Action Plan (NAP) was drafted, all the political differences were forgotten and the long held ban on executions was suddenly lifted. For the past decade, thousands of Shias have been killed but the government has not taken any course of action to deal with the issue of sectarianism.

Are we not the citizens of this country? Do we not have a right to live? Do we not contribute to the welfare of this country?

The Shia community shall be waiting for answers. 

Three reasons why I don't attend weddings.

It comes as astonishment to my social circle when I uncloak my persona; that I loathe attending weddings.

In our patriarchal society, it is perceived that women/girls or the ‘weaker sex’ is more inclined to present itself on such auspicious occasions. But, not me!

I have my own justification for not being a part of such events and they are as follows:

1.     I find wedding functions horribly and hopelessly boring:

Being an adherent of a Brown family and growing up in an atmosphere where almost every month a wedding was solemnized, functions which were long awaited for, soon lost their essence thus, naturally I grew out of the euphoria. The rituals observed became a hackneyed practice. Soon, there was nothing engrossing about them, no runaway bride or no one to pronounce “I disavow” at the nikkah ceremony!

2.      They have become a hub for gossiping.

When all the like-minded people in the family make themselves comfortable a little tattle is evitable.

What satisfaction is derived from gossiping? I fail to comprehend.  Whatever the reason, I strongly condemn it because no one has the right to judge anyone and make a scandal out of it.

3.     They are a waste of time, money and energy.

Undoubtedly, time is an enigma but that does not justify the notion of wasting this unparalleled blessing of God. As a nation, we possess a rigid attitude of dismissing deadlines and arriving late in wedding functions has become a well-accepted norm, resulting in a disruption in one’s biological timetable leaving one tiresome and lethargic.  Furthermore; I presume that a lot of money is spent on clothes, gifts and dinners even by attendees, which I reckon can be utilized for a more intellectually enlightening experience.

Typical conversations of a Brown family wedding

Therefore, if you feel that my missing a family event more precisely a wedding a lot has been missed on life. Don’t feel so, because the very next day pictures and videos of ‘Family –Bollywood’ dances will start popping-up on your Facebook timeline. 

Wedding: An arduous ordeal

Shocked and amazed by the Pakistani culture, not once but very often. I am left to contemplate and question our norms and values. Once such fancy occasion which leaves me awe-struck is a traditional Pakistani “wedding”.

Weddings in the Indian sub-continent have been of utmost significance. Not only as they give a structure to the society, they open a door to an entirely new universe in a person’s life. But, at what cost?


A wedding or a marriage ceremony is held to solemnize a marriage contract between two individuals, the husband and the wife respectively. In this society, two families, two entities, clans and tribes join and are related to one another miraculously. Therefore, how does an event which solely consists of signing a marriage contract become such a lavish financial ordeal?

Well, the answer is simple: culture. As a society we have grown a staunch liking for superfluous acquisitive desires and a flamboyant wedding party is just an example of that.

Parents start filling up their bank accounts, purchase prize bonds and other investments even before their child utters a word. With millions and millions being spent like continuously flowing water on this mega event.

The pre-wedding preparations start from the very day the couple gets engaged. From the venue to the wedding jora (dress), your dad’s heart bleeds to death. The red-colored wedding dress, which the bride will wear only once during her lifetime on the ‘big day’ costs no less than a whooping Rs 100,000/- minimum. Another Rs 50,000/- to Rs 80,000/- are spent on dresses for ‘mayo’, ‘dholki’ and mehndi. But, what for??
The men are not too far behind in the league. A sherwani or a wedding suit for the big event costs no less.

Traditional wedding dress

Then, finally arrives the day your whole family has been desperately waiting for: The wedding day (Barat). The ‘exclusively’ crafted dance floor, the floral decoration and elaborate stage settings all warmly welcome you. (Money talks!)

Your relatives from all across the country pop-up like daffodils (you haven’t most of them and you’ll never will) shower you with words of affection, which let me assure you is mere courtesy. Many of them show up just to enjoy the culinary delicacy.

Ahh… how can I forget the integral part of a wedding? Food! Parents ought to spend a minimum of Rs 1500/- per person just to serve Biryani on the poolside to the well-wishers, who will always find something to whine about. After all, sitting on the foamy chairs is not easy. Is it?

Instead, all this money could be given to the newly-weds who could invest it in a profitable venture for instance, property or even gold for that matter.During weddings, all ‘Islamic’ aspects of the Islamic Republic of Pakistan go down the drain, and we emerge copying ‘Bollywood’ all over. The unnecessary expenses:  the clothes, shoes, bags, venue, car, stage decoration etc pile up to break Dad’s back. Where is the dowry that Hazrat Fatima (A.S) received? Where is the valima that Hazrat Ali (A.S) gave? Where does the religious obligation of giving the “Haq-Mehar” disappear?

Functions like wedding ceremonies reflect the evolution of a society’s culture and values. But, in our state of affairs they primarily reflect the family’s social class and monetary eminence.

Instead of focusing on the perfect wedding ceremony, we should focus on a perfect marriage which produces far better individuals than we are and are those who work for a better tomorrow.          

The Long lost and Forgotten: Lahore

When the honking of the horns have destroyed your ear-drums, the smoke of the vehicles and nearby chimneys have clogged your air passage, when the dust is successful in bringing tears in your eyes and in the midst of all the hue and cry, if through the haze and smog, you manage to see four red-brick minarets; you have set your feet in Lahore.

Lahore, the cultural and educational heart of Pakistan. (As it is primarily called.) The city cannot stop itself from flaunting about its rich culture and history. The old, weary and rustic walls of the old (walled) city narrate their happenings with a bleak smile stretched across their faces; silenced by the tumult of their inhabitants and their professions in the nearby vicinity, the walls shed tears of despondency and hopelessness.

  The city has enfolded the mighty Lahore fort and the kaleidoscopic Badshahi and Wazir Khan Mosques within its realms, who narrate their own legacies to thirsty eyes and craving ears. 

Apart from the awe-inspiring structures the city hosts within its realms, the city is also home to perhaps the most horrendous aristocratic love story of all time, the anecdote of Prince Salem and Anarkali. As legend states; their love still lives in the hearts of the lovers who flock to Anarkali’s mausoleum on Lower Mall.

Not too far away from this dome of love, Lahore unfolds a narrative from a different era; “The Age of the British”.

From the Lahore High Court to the archives of the Lahore Museum, from the Government College to the once bustling Tollinton Market, each structure on Mall Road introduces itself from an anomalistic retrospective, mutually sharing and keenly holding onto their anecdotes of the British Raj.

As once, mighty and enlightened the people of this city were. Lahore, with every passing day is losing its literati essence.

The city which was once famous for its gardens and was nicknamed ‘The City of Gardens’ in the Mughal era, now resembles a dumpster in the crass era of commercialism; so lovingly given the moniker: ‘Paris of the East’.

The rain which brought life to the flora and fauna of the city now brings death to its inhabitants.   

A city which boasted about its ‘educated’, ‘enlightened’ and ‘learned’ masses in now governed by a gang of charlatans. Educational institutions which promised a secure future have now become a base camp for student politics and a picnic spot.

It is rather saddening to be a witness to such a heinous crime: the death of a nation’s culture, norms and values, all because of our ignorance.

As Imam Ali (A.S.) said:

“Our enemies are not the Jews or the Christians, our enemy is our own ignorance."