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Archive for January, 2011

A 21ST CENTURY SHAME


A bitter food for thought…..

Whenever the topic of “honour killings” came up in any Dinner party or gathering I attended, I would end up arguing and fighting against it being a Pakistani or a Muslim phenomenon.

Alas, God  heard my cries and enlightened someone else also, to acknowledge that honour killings are not synonymous with only Pakistan.( We needn’t worry! We have  monopoly over many other issues like Feudalism, bigotry,  “outside hand”, to name a few. And yes, we also have a huge turnover from the “rumour factories” all across the land).

Yesterday, I came across an article in The Independent by Robert Fisk. He introduces it by the opening paragraph:
“ It is a tragedy, a horror, a crime against humanity. The details of the murders – of the women beheaded, burned to death, stoned to death, stabbed, electrocuted, strangled and buried alive for the “honour” of their families – are as barbaric as they are shameful. Many women’s groups in the Middle East and South-west Asia suspect the victims are at least four times the United Nations’ latest world figure of around 5,000 deaths a year. Most of the victims are young: many are teenagers, slaughtered under a vile tradition that goes back hundreds of years but which now spans half the globe.”

(However, his is a half the truth. It doesn’t span only half the globe—it spans across the globe. Only the magnitude may be variable . Fisk failed to mention the lands beyond the Atlantic Ocean).

The Independent did a 10 month long research and investigated the existence of Honour Killings in various Middle Eastern and South Asian countries. The study came out with few interesting facts:
-Although unfortunately being stereotyped as a “Muslim practice”, it exists among the Christian and Hindu communities as well.
-Men are also killed for honour at times.

Indeed, this barbaric practice transcends beyond any faith and sect. It is a hallmark of ‘Jahalat” (ignorance is too soft a word for this ). It would be an equally heinous crime to label it to any religion -whether Hinduism or Islam or Christianity or any other ism for that matter.

My heart bleeds when even seasoned journalists label it “a largely Muslim practice”. It may be more frequent in some Muslim communities but that has more to do with their level of ignorance rather than their faith. For all those who either don’t know or simply forgot-Prophet Muhammad (pbuh) had denounced, campaigned against and banned the “female infanticide”(burying the female child) some 1400 and more years ago. The birth of the female child in PreIslamic Arabia was a dishonour to the family.

The practice of Honour Killing dates back to 2000 years, and has been documented to be existing in the ancient Rome and the Mesopotamian Civilizations(in Hammurabi’s Code).

The reports from Amnesty International and other Human Rights groups indicate that menace of honour killings is increasing each year.

The Fisk article mentions, “ Iraqi Kurds, Palestinians in Jordan, Pakistan and Turkey appear to be the worst offenders but media freedoms in these countries may over-compensate for the secrecy which surrounds “honour” killings in Egypt – which untruthfully claims there are none – and other Middle East nations in the Gulf and the Levant. But honour crimes long ago spread to Britain, Belgium, Russia and Canada and many other nations.”

UNFPA estimates that annual worldwide total of such killings is around 5,000. I beg to disagree here. This may be the hard statistics,  but it just represents the tip of an iceberg. A vast majority (upto 90%) of these dastardly acts are conveniently reported as suicides or accidents.

In fact, honor killing exists  in the garb of various other names in different parts of the world. It comes with the name of “Karo-Kari” in Pakistan, “Dowry Deaths or Bride Burning” in India, “Loss of Ird” in the Bedouin (Middle Eastern) communities and as “Crimes of Passion“in Latin American countries.
Each of these kinds merit their explanation and clarifications:
.
KARO-KARI: The compound word literally means “black male”(Karo) and Black female (Kari), a metaphor for the adulterers. Once a couple is accused of “immoral behaviour” the male family members authorise “themselves” to restore the honour of the family by killing both the karo and the kari. But the real life scenario is that in most of the times only the female accomplice becomes the victim, whilst the perpetrators are close male relatives-father, brother, husband or son. One needn’t bother to get a witness, mere suspicion and accusation is enough to desecrate a family’s honour. To wind up the event the victim’s family pardons the murderer (usually from within the family) or are “counselled” by the elders of the community to accept blood money (if the perpetrators are outsiders). And hence the murderer sails free in ALMOST ALL the cases . A Bill against the practice was passed in the Pakistani Parliament in November 2006, but the practice still goes unabated. We still have a couple of “people’s representative” sitting in the parliament who have the audacity to stand up and justify the incident as “our culture”. And the irony is that one of them remains a Minister – with just a change in his Ministry after human rights activists’ cries for his removal.

DOWRY DEATH/BRIDE BURNING: It isn’t technically an honour killing, but the motive behind the act is similar —for not honouring the in laws by not bringing “enough” dowry. (Dowry is a symbol of the high credentials of the groom. The more he earns the more dowry he deserves). A young woman is murdered by her husband and his family for not living up to their expectations of the dowry she brings with her. She is typically dowsed with Kerosene, and set alight leading to death by fire. Although there is legislation in place since 1961 as Dowry Prohibition Act, about 500-600 brides are dowsed each year. The murderers and the abetters can be sentenced to from 7 years to life imprisonment, but the reality is that many are passed on as accidental kitchen fire or a suicide unless the girl’s parents are strong enough to cry foul. The dowry deaths saw their peak in the 80s and early 90s in India. I remember reading at least 2 or 3 cases each day in the newspaper those days.

LOSS OF IRD: This is a preIslamic custom. “Ird” is a Bedouin honour code for women. A woman is born with her “ird’ intact, but any immoral act of sexual infidelity could take her ird away. Los of ird doesn’t merely imply to the physical transgression, but it is more of an emotional concept. Once lost, a woman cannot regain her ird  . In contrast to this “Sharafa”–the honour code for men can be acquired, augmented, lost and regained.  And if this wasn’t enough Sharafa is required to protect the Ird of the women of the family and honour of the tribe. Majority of these cases get highlighted only in the countries like Jordan, Iraq or Turkey. In countries where press is gagged—like Egypt and the Gulf,  the incidents are claimed to be nonexistent. We can guess that.

CRIME OF PASSION: This too isn’t technically claimed as an honour killing but the perpetrator generally kills the woman when his honour is stabbed by her presumed or real infidelity. It could be considered more of a form of domestic violence where the husband, partner, lover or the boyfriend murders the woman in a rage of jealousy or when the latter being caught for infidelity. Usually the perpetrators claim to have committed the act in a fit of rage or “temporary insanity” (in legal language) and the crime gets mitigated. Unfortunately a lot of the offenders get away with lighter sentences on that account. “Femicide” and violence against women as it is also called has reached alarming proportions in the Latin America. In a report from Peru, 58% of men accused of murdering their women blamed it on the infidelity or jealousy.

The irony is that in any form of honour killing, one need not prove the offence and the offence need not be grave either. Just a suspicion or a dream could lead to the act. So also, it need not be a grave act of marital infidelity or premarital sex, even flirting and failing to serve her man on time can be enough to dishonour the fragile “honour’ of men in her life(whether a husband or a father or a brother).

Statistics say that all round the globe only half the killings are by firearms, the rest being by throttling, strangling or stabbing with a knife. Majority of women are between the ages of 16 and 30 years of age.

Wherever it is done (here or there), whoever commits it (a brother or a husband),or Whatever the motive is (honour or jealousy) the end result remains the same—a woman (in 99.9%) cases) becomes a prey to the misogynist mindset of a close male relative.

The practice is nurtured by the idea that Woman is “our property” and that the violence against a woman is “a family issue” and not a judicial one.

As quoted in an old article from National Geographic on honour killings: “Women are considered the property of the males in their family irrespective of their class, ethnic, or religious group. The owner of the property has the right to decide its fate. The concept of ownership has turned women into a commodity which can be exchanged, bought and sold.”

Just to give a firsthand feel I copy-paste some of the real-life clips from across the globe:
* In Turkey, a young woman’s throat was slit in the town square because a love ballad had been dedicated to her over the radio.
*In Delhi, India, Deepika Bajaj (28), customer care and services manager of Hans Hyundai in Jhilmil Colony, was burnt to death allegedly by her husband and in-laws,over the issue of dowry, in their house at Gopal Park. The woman had made a call to the police saying that her in-laws were trying to set her ablaze. When the police reached the spot, she was found burnt in her room.
*In Pakistan , five women were buried alive for “honour crimes” in Baluchistan by armed tribesmen; three of them – Hameeda, Raheema and Fauzia – were teenagers who, after being beaten and shot, were thrown still alive into a ditch where they were covered with stones and earth. When the two older women, aged 45 and 38, protested, they suffered the same fate. The three younger women had tried to choose their own husbands.
*In Iraq, a 17-year-old girl, Rand Abdel-Qader, was beaten to death by her father because she had become infatuated with a British soldier. Another, Shawbo Ali Rauf, 19, was taken by her family to a picnic in Dokan and shot seven times because they had found an unfamiliar number on her mobile phone.
* Even in liberal Lebanon, there are occasional “honour” killings, the most notorious that of a 31-year-old woman, Mona Kaham,
whose father entered her bedroom and cut her throat after learning she had been made pregnant by her cousin. He walked to the police station in Roueiss in the southern suburbs of Beirut with the knife still in his hand. “My conscience is clear,” he told the police. “I have killed to clean my honour.”
*In India, an engaged couple, Yogesh Kumar and Asha Saini, were murdered by the 19-year-old bride-to-be’s family because her fiancée was of lower caste. They were apparently tied up and electrocuted to death.
*In Peru, in a police report obtained by IPS, Juan José Galiano, 36, confessed that he strangled his partner, Rosa Trujillo, 38, because he suspected her of carrying another man’s child.
*In Brazil: The mountainous south eastern state of Minas Gerais is commonly known as the terra dos machoes, or land of the machos. “Here, if a man sleeps around with other women, it’s a sign of masculinity,” says Elaine Matozinho, a policewoman in Belo Horizonte. “But if a woman is an adulteress, it’s a different story: she pays with her life.”
*”In Jordan, if a woman is afraid that her family wants to kill her, she can check herself into the local prison, but she can’t check herself out, and the only person who can get her out is a male relative, who is frequently the person who poses the threat,”
*In London,UK„The 16-year-old was stabbed to death by her Muslim father Abdullah, in west London, because he disapproved of her Christian boyfriend.
*In Canada, Aqsa Parvez, who was found strangled in her family’s home. Friends said Aqsa had been at odds with her family over her refusal to wear the hijab.
*In Canada,Kamikar Singh Dhillon, who pleaded guilty to stabbing Amandeep Kaur, 22, to death Jan 1, 2009, said he feared his daughter-in-law would leave his son for another man with whom she was allegedly having an affair.

PS. After all this writing I do not have any spirits left in me to conclude this note. My mind is numb. I leave it on the readers to draw their own solutions to the problem and give the feedback if interested.
Read and think……..

Ilmana Fasih
8 September 2010.

Category:

International, Social Issues, Women

To all my teachers with apologies and love…


Teaching is not a lost art, but the regard for it is a lost tradition. ~Jacques Barzun

Teaching is the noblest of professions which got undervalued and lost its sheen along the way. It is a profession that teaches all other professions.
More than half way through my life, the group I feel most indebted to are my teachers.
‘I am indebted to my father for living, but to my teacher for living well.’ ~Alexander the Great.

Indeed, I am indebted to all my teachers-to the mediocre teachers for stuffing my brain with ready to use information, to the good ones for making the information interesting and to the superior ones for sparking a burning desire for the quest of knowledge unto death.

Not spelling out the gratitude to each one of them for their shares in my life would be like writing a letter and not sending it.

In middle school, I went to school looking forward to the vacations in May, June and July, in High School, it was to have fun with the friends, and in University, to come out with a licence to earn good money.

Fortunately though, if it wasn’t for the inspiring teachers, I would have walked out with same goals achieved. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that they were my awesome teachers who replaced my empty mind with an open one .They widened my horizon and brightened my vision.

Half baked brain that I was (especially in school), I extremely undervalued the magnanimity of my teachers. There was a love- hate relationship that existed –they being ‘tools of torture’ one minute and ‘instrument of inspiration‘ the other. It sounds impertinent and embarrassing that these angels of knowledge and wisdom were at times viewed by my myopic eyes as satans of strictness and discipline.

But I was smart. Yes, very smart. I never let them know what transpired in my mind and always faked like a well behaved, loving pupil ever ready to say ,

‘Yes Sir ‘ or ‘Yes Ma’am’.

Now that I ejoy the fruits of their perseverence and hardwork,  I feel guilty and want to confess for my “evil’ thoughts.

A very wise old teacher once said: “I consider a day’s teaching wasted if we do not all have one hearty laugh.” He meant that when people laugh together, “they cease to be young and old, master and pupils, jailer and prisoners. They become a single group of human beings enjoying its existence.”

True to the spirit of above quote, school life was more of a “fun packed day out” with friends rather than a “a forced holy visit” to the temple of learning. Some teachers were sporty enough to become a single group of fun with us, but many of them, sadly though , ended up being the target of our laughter.

I feel especially apologetic of the single episode in my student life when I actually misbehaved with a short tempered Biology teacher for not doing the prank that she blamed me for. She asked me to walk out of the class but I refused and arrogantly argued for my innocence. She could have believed me easily,  but to my hard luck I wore a naughty smile on my lips and a nasty furrow between my brows, while arguing, and that was more than  enough to unleash the lionness of her anger. As her voice rose in volume, so did mine. What happened later is an epic deserving a narration. I wish I had the decency to not have offended a teacher almost thrice my age then. What made me look even smaller was that before the class could end she had already forgiven me in front of the class of 28. Again today I beg sorry to her for my vulgar offence.

For our beloved chemistry teacher, teaching was not his profession but a passion. Chemistry was his beloved and the only love in his life, perhaps. He made the pungent subject sound melodious by his real life examples. His favourite being the comparison of the effect on molecules of heating and cooling, with people staying apart from each other in the room with heaters on and huddling together in a room with ice blocks. As he would narrate his oft repeated, famous examples there would be a blush on his cheeks and sparkle in his eyes.

I remember once when he had to do the explaining of the Rutherford’s model of an atom. He explained not once, not twice, but thrice because the back seated ragamuffins of our class pretended not to have understood the simple concept, just to get kicks out of his example of protons as girls and electrons as boys, that the reason why these two particles attract each other and why the electrons revolve in the orbits around the proton nucleus. Our stomachs cramped with  continual laughter but the poor soul was so drenched in his passion of explaining that he could not see the ulterior motive behind their ignorance. The story remained an instance source of hysterical laughter, for months together.

“ I beg sorry Sir.”, on behalf of the whole bunch, as rest of us were equal abettors in the prank. Though belated but I honour and hail him for being a very diligent teacher.

Hindi wasn’t a pleasant subject for any of us. The teacher was in love with her subject and  was doing her PhD thesis in Sanskrit. She even dreamt in Sanskrit. Her love affair with Tulsidas poetry and our abhorrence for it were open secrets. Once, a team-spirited me allowed a few of my fellow classmates to copy the homework, ditto, of the meanings of Tulsidas poetry. We all ended up getting a ZERO each—as an acknowledgement of  our collective effort. She refused to hear who the original author was. I took back my homework notebook from her table to my desk, silently uttering the filthiest four and five letter words, I knew then,  in my heart. My ego was stabbed with this zero, and then I knew I would have to  do the explaining at home, too. No one heard those words except me and my God. And I know He will not forgive me if I do not render my apology to its recipient.

”Ma’am I beg my sincere apology to you for this shameful act.”

And God, I hope you too heard me apologising to her publicly!

University was no better. We were going to be doctors in few years and our quest for knowledge had no boundaries. Even while hearing a lecture on Pathology, our burning desire for the latest score of the test match between India-Pakistan was equally aflame. The whispers of news spread around the lecture hall that the handsome reincarnation of ‘Samson’, Pakistani batsman Zaheer Abbas was batting. The interest in the lecture vanished in a microsecond. We had to go to the girl’s common room to watch him playing, on TV. It wasn’t our fault—Zaheer was to be blamed. Why was he such a looker and such a hooker of the ball?  On that trip to India, Zaheer was in his top form and there used to be a caption on the Amul Butter billboard saying—Zaheer Ab Bas!

The most ardent of fans amongst us conveniently fainted in her seat and poor four of us had to rush her out of the class to get the first aid. And in emergency we landed up in the girl’s common room trying not to miss a single shot from his batting. I feel sorry neither for watching the fantastic shots nor for being such malingerers, but for taking the kind heartedness of our Pathology Professor for a ride. ” Yes, I feel really sorry for that, Prof.”

One person I would want to name as a special honour is Brother John of S.H.  Till date he lives in my life as a guide and as an inspiration. His dignity and grace were  beyond our petty pranks,any but I beg him too, to forgive if I ever hurt him.

“One looks back with appreciation to the brilliant teachers, but with gratitude to those who touched our human feelings. The curriculum is so much necessary material, but warmth is the vital element for the growing plant and for the soul of the child.” — Carl Jung

Thank you, Brother, for having been that ‘vital element’ in my growing years.

Apart from those to whom I have apologised, I feel a huge gratitude towards ONE AND ALL  my teachers for acting as a compass that activated the magnets of curiosity, knowledge and wisdom within me . They prepared me, along with my parents, to meet the challenges of the times to come by nurturing my mind, my body and my soul. Each one was in some way a catalyst of change in my mental chemistry, either as a corrosive acid or as a sweet smelling ester.

To all my teachers from Jack n Jill Nursery  to Mallinson Girls School to Montfort School to Lady Hardinge Medical College to Royal College of ObsGyn, I say:
“I can no other answer make, but, thanks, and thanks.” (William Shakespeare)

I thank you ALL, my teachers,  from the bottom of my heart, but for you, my heart has no bottom.

HAPPY TEACHER’S DAY.

Ilmana Fasih
5 September 2009

Category:

Personal

AS LIFE GOES CHEAP, LIVING GETS EXPENSIVE


Watching a news bulletin in Sep 2010 is no less than watching a World War II movie fron 1940s. Statistics of just the past few days go as:
-72 migrant workers killed in Mexico near US border
-Over 50 killed in Quetta in a procession
-35 killed by a suicide bombing in Lahore
-Sixteen killed in Darfur
-Nine killed in Kandahar
-Six people set ablaze in Barbados
-Four killed in bomb blast in Hebron
They may look a micronumber considering the 6 billion who call Mother Earth their home..
Many more precious lives are lost through natures’ fury . But that is another story although the onus of outraging the mother nature too lies on us .
Death is inevitable but a human life succumbing to the barbarism of another fellow human being is an abominable act. Isn’t this a trait uniquely attributed to us the “human” beings. Rarely do we hear of ferocious lions killing other lions, or elephants stampeding elephants in the frenzy of the ‘mast’. I feel ashamed of being a homo sapien.
It would be rude but true to say, probably those who departed were ‘blessed’ , keeping in view the billions who lead desperate, hungry lives and die a hundred deaths each day out of hunger or humiliation. One out of every 6 (i.e.1.02 billion)people don’t get enough food to stay healthy or lead an active life.
Surfing through the website of the World Food Program is a journey through the chamber of horrors. Facts appear like hammer blows over one’s skull, strong enough to stun the brain. Truly representing heartless clan of human beings, I sail through the fact sheet ,alive and breathing, reading :
*Almost one billion people suffer regularly from hunger, mostly being women and children-equal to the population of the US, Canada and EU together.
*97% of them being in developing countries.
*65% of the world’s hungry live in seven countries— India, China, DR Congo, Bangladesh , Indonesia, Pakistan and Ethiopia.
*Malnutrition prevents children from reaching their full cognitive and developmental potential.
*One child dies every six seconds from hunger and related causes.
*More people die of hunger every year than AIDS, Malaria and Tuberculosis combined.
And then, today a news flashes on an international channel:
”The UN has called an urgent meeting on rising global food prices in an attempt to head off a repeat of the 2008 crisis that sparked riots around the world.”
Russia, the world’s third largest grower of wheat ,extends a ban on wheat exports next year. In a knee jerk wheat prices in the world rise, biggest monthly rise in 37 years. In June itself UN had warned that the prices will rise by 40% in the next decade due to increases biofuel demands. How will the above stats take shape in future is a scary thought.
If the news shakes a ‘little’ me, it must have thrown the Nobel Laureate ‘The Banker of the Poor’ Dr Mohammed Yunus into a convulsion. A reincarnation of an angel on this earth, he believes “Poverty is unnecessary “ and attributes it to the lack of the political will. On narrating his life journey towards the Nobel Peace Prize in 2006, he had said:
“I went to the bank and proposed that they lend money to the poor people. The bankers almost fell over. They explained to me that the bank cannot lend money to poor people because these people are not creditworthy. Today, if you look at financial systems around the globe, more than half the population of the world – out of six billion people, more than three billion – do not qualify to take out a loan from a bank. This is a shame.”
Hail the top brains in banking and corporate world for making this world “a heaven” for the rich and “a hell” for the poor. Yes, these ‘achievers’ are honest men, human life is indeed a cheap commodity with a high maintenance cost.
Dr Yunus dreams to create Poverty Museums.
We need to clone more Yunuses to make it possible.
Each one of us can live a micron of Yunus within us to make it possible simply by thinking about the millions who sleep hungry each night and persevere to not llet a grain end up in the garbage bag. It isn’t asking a lot.
I wish he was Hercules.
Can he live his dream?
I wish he does……

ILMANA FASIH
4 September 2010

Category:

Pakistan, Politics, Social Issues

LET’S NOT LET ‘EM FIX THIS GAME


Jaagte raho…
Days ago the water was still. Yesterday I saw some ripples. Today there are waves in it. And tomorrow it’s getting ready to turn into a whirl pool. The whirl pool which will suck with it the very cause of it.
I sit half way accross the globe from 9 pm tp 2 am glued to my TV watching the channel whose name rhymes with the name of our favourite enemy. The news ,the news analysis, the debate, the talk show—all one after the other, with a burning desire in the heart that today will give a pleasant surprise .For months on, each time I switched the TV off at 2 am-dejected and disappointed.
However, yesterday night was different. Somewhat different.
Though the opening news of the Lahore carnage was as painful as the numerous other such news we have been hearing and watching for the past few years. The scenes of incident couldn’t be watched with a dry eye. They were soul shaking. Each time one hears such blasts, one goes through the de ja vu feeling one got on losing a family member. And am not exaggerating.
Initially, program after program I felt the same monotonous rut until came the music of the last talk show at 1 am. It changed my day. The anchor was going through a camp at the suburb of our largest port city where IDPs from the Shaheed Bhutto’s home town are settled. A beautifully organised tent city is lined up. Each settler interviewed showered prayers and no complaints on our “Billo’s” philanthropist cum singer cum ex lecturer. They hug him, embrace him, bless him for making them live a dignified life in this tent city. When asked repeatedly whether they would want to go back home after the floods recede—majority refuse without a pause. Not because they got spoilt by the luxuries of a tent house and two decent meals ,but because they feel home here. They feel they have found a saviour in him.Their dignities restored. Their being a “human being” feeling restored.
Not one but all of them one after the other utter,”Why should we go back? What do we have there? As we go empty handed into the ruins, the Wadera will load us with the loans bonding our subsequent generations repay it forever. We feel safe and cared here.” It’s sad they are rejoicing the displacement from their homes, from their fields where they ploughed. They have lost all in kind only to get their dignities back which had been missing since their time immemorial. And remember they came from the land of the current rulers.
Its touching to see the humility with which their new wadera goes from tent to tent ,dawn till dusk asking them if they were fine. I have failed to find an appropriate adjective to the humility with which he was accompanying the anchor. Avoiding to look up to the camera hiding his wet eyes. The gentility personified. I salute this man!
I also salute all those other known or not so known “humans” who are turning their nights into days to help the humanity –here as well as anywhere on the globe. The hour flies away and the anchor bids “Khuda Hafiz”.
I turn to my laptop to check the status and to shut it down and sleep. My eye catches a glimpse of a video link. It says” Must watch this video clip”.It is barely a 54 seconds video but it beautifully sums up the history of 64 years of a Feudal Nation:
Pet bhar amir shadbad,
Bhal maran ghareeb kanda yaad.
Asif nu bangle aali shan,
Dubai ,Pakistan.
Pak sar zameen ka nizaam,
Amir tar amir ,mui awam.
And it goes on……………..
Unfortunate! It is a parody of our National Anthem, but not even one word of it is a lie or an exaggeration. I click it neither once nor twice, but again and again till I lose the count. Each time I hear, it rings bells in my ears.
I can smell it .Yes I can smell the change coming.
It isn’t too far. We don’t have to wait another life to see it.
We don’t even have to wait another year to see it, I am sure.
We are starting to wake up. We are standing up.
I can see the light at the end of the tunnel.
Lets all see the light getting brighter each second.
Lets not sleep until we exit the tunnel.
We don’t have miles to go –it’s just round the corner.
Yes, FEUDALISM is getting ready to be caught out at the slips, let not any bookie, “in here” or “out there” fix the game to drop the catch. Let no “Butts” amongst us get sold out.
Beware and stay awake…….

ILMANA FASIH
3 September 2010

Category:

Pakistan, Politics

LET’S NOT LET ‘EM FIX THIS GAME


Jaagte raho…

Days ago the water was still. Yesterday I saw some ripples. Today there are waves in it. And tomorrow it’s getting ready to turn into a whirl pool. The whirl pool which will suck with it the very cause of it.
I sit half way accross the globe from 9 pm tp 2 am glued to my TV watching the channel whose name rhymes with the name of our favourite enemy. The news ,the news analysis, the debate, the talk show—all one after the other, with a burning desire in the heart that today will give a pleasant surprise .For months on, each time I switched the TV off at 2 am-dejected and disappointed.
However, yesterday night was different. Somewhat different.
Though the opening news of the Lahore carnage was as painful as the numerous other such news we have been hearing and watching for the past few years. The scenes of incident couldn’t be watched with a dry eye. They were soul shaking. Each time one hears such blasts, one goes through the de ja vu feeling one got on losing a family member. And am not exaggerating.
Initially, program after program I felt the same monotonous rut until came the music of the last talk show at 1 am. It changed my day. The anchor was going through a camp at the suburb of our largest port city where IDPs from the Shaheed Bhutto’s home town are settled. A beautifully organised tent city is lined up. Each settler interviewed showered prayers and no complaints on our “Billo’s” philanthropist cum singer cum ex lecturer. They hug him, embrace him, bless him for making them live a dignified life in this tent city. When asked repeatedly whether they would want to go back home after the floods recede—majority refuse without a pause. Not because they got spoilt by the luxuries of a tent house and two decent meals ,but because they feel home here. They feel they have found a saviour in him.Their dignities restored. Their being a “human being” feeling restored.
Not one but all of them one after the other utter,”Why should we go back? What do we have there? As we go empty handed into the ruins, the Wadera will load us with the loans bonding our subsequent generations repay it forever. We feel safe and cared here.” It’s sad they are rejoicing the displacement from their homes, from their fields where they ploughed. They have lost all in kind only to get their dignities back which had been missing since their time immemorial. And remember they came from the land of the current rulers.
Its touching to see the humility with which their new wadera goes from tent to tent ,dawn till dusk asking them if they were fine. I have failed to find an appropriate adjective to the humility with which he was accompanying the anchor. Avoiding to look up to the camera hiding his wet eyes. The gentility personified. I salute this man!
I also salute all those other known or not so known “humans” who are turning their nights into days to help the humanity –here as well as anywhere on the globe. The hour flies away and the anchor bids “Khuda Hafiz”.
I turn to my laptop to check the status and to shut it down and sleep. My eye catches a glimpse of a video link. It says” Must watch this video clip”.It is barely a 54 seconds video but it beautifully sums up the history of 64 years of a Feudal Nation:
Pet bhar amir shadbad,
Bhal maran ghareeb kanda yaad.
Asif nu bangle aali shan,
Dubai ,Pakistan.
Pak sar zameen ka nizaam,
Amir tar amir ,mui awam.
And it goes on……………..
Unfortunate! It is a parody of our National Anthem, but not even one word of it is a lie or an exaggeration. I click it neither once nor twice, but again and again till I lose the count. Each time I hear, it rings bells in my ears.
I can smell it .Yes I can smell the change coming.
It isn’t too far. We don’t have to wait another life to see it.
We don’t even have to wait another year to see it, I am sure.
We are starting to wake up. We are standing up.
I can see the light at the end of the tunnel.
Lets all see the light getting brighter each second.
Lets not sleep until we exit the tunnel.
We don’t have miles to go –it’s just round the corner.
Yes, FEUDALISM is getting ready to be caught out at the slips, let not any bookie, “in here” or “out there” fix the game to drop the catch. Let no “Butts” amongst us get sold out.
Beware and stay awake…….

ILMANA FASIH
3 September 2010

Category:

Pakistan, Politics, Social Issues

SIYASAT


A poem in Hindi by Armaan Khan

Ye to siyasat hai, Ise kab hamara dil,
Gham se bhara dikhai deta hai.
Kisi ne sach kaha hai bhayya,

Sawan ke andhe ko sab hara dikhayee deta hai.

Ise mere maathe ki , badhti shikan nahin dikhti,
Mere dard mere aansoo, meri uljhan nahi dikhti,
Ise to ye mehngai bhi daayan nahi dikhti,
Mere ankhon ka dariya bhi ise qatra dikhai deta hai.
Kisi ne sach kaha hai bhayya,
Sawan ke andhe ko sab hara dikhayee deta hai.

Jab sham dhale, dhoop apne ghar ko bhagti hai,
Bhhok hamari angrai lete hue,neend se jaagti hai,
Aur hamari bebasi,pet pe pathar baandhti hai,
Lekin siyasat kehti hai, Tumhara pet to bhara dikhaee deta hai.
Kisi ne sach kaha hai bhayya,
Sawan ke andhe ko sab hara dikhayee deta hai.

Jo bhi qasoor hai apna hai, mazaa bhi hamein hi chakhna hai,
Kyonke har paanch baras mein, hum khud bhi andhe ho jaate hain,
Hamien jo khara hai who khota aur jo khota hai who khara dikhaee deta hai.
To ismein kya bura hai bhayya,
Sawan ke andhe ko, sab hara dikhayee deta hai.

Category:

India, Poetry, Politics

LORD NAZIR ON LADY DEMOCRACY


Food for thought…
While browsing through the FB home page my eyes get attracted to the word DEMOCRACY flashing through the dawn blog page. Being the first and “favourite”(just a wild guess) child of political scientist parents I was weaned on words like Democracy, Aristotle, Plato, Socialism, Marx ,…… and the list goes on. When girls of my age were enjoying Mills and Boons I was bombarded with these terms at home. The after effects of this “child abuse” remain on my psyche till date. I click the mouse to check that it was an article by Lord Nazir saying :
”Give Pakistan the democracy it deserves”.
The Lord from across the seven seas that he is, he means every word of it. I read through the article not once but twice, imagining that I missed the real message the first time. He did mention of tackling corruption, democratic system in practice not just words, our politicians plundering the country and stacking it into most expensive barcodes in Britain. Indeed, he wasn’t exaggerating any of that stuff. He was kind enough to do the straight talk,
“This is the time, when Pakistan is embroiled in the chaos of the floods, to give power to civilians and help them run local services as part of a solid democratic political system. This bottom-up approach will encourage Pakistanis to be self-sufficient as well as learn to trust their political leadership again. But the buck stops at the door of the politicians who have to win the respect and confidence of the poor Pakistani public who are fast losing faith in their motives and the practices of these politicians are not helping the cause of the democracy.”
However, what was noticeable was the mention of Z*****(this is fb censor not mine) four times in the article. He even mentions the terms Mr.10%, corruption, Murtaza Bhutto murde, most expensive post codes in Britain—all these terms which are synonymous with this censored word that begins with a capital “z”.
My eyes were searching for the mention of other names of the ranks of Z. He did not even hint at the leader of the ‘friendly opposition’ or the Lord of Lahore when wrapping up corrupt politicians. There was a reason for it .He is a Lord of “House of Lords” in Britain and out there they do not mix business with friendships. He is not a hardcore desi like me who spares no chances to glorify a friend in writings when he deserves just a passing mention. Yes, he does not believe in nepotism. Poor Z, since he wasn’t his best friend, he had to take all the blame alone.
As one reader said and I agree the article was, high on theory and low on substance especially, when it was coming from the first Pakistani in the House of Lords.
As always, on dawn blog, I enjoy the reader’s comments more than the articles themselves. A lot of our compatriots registered their sincere takes on the issue. Few of them hilarious, some encouraging, but a lot of them sad keeping into mind the lack of trust they have in this magic word called “democracy”. Some of the illustrious in-depth explanations were too complicated and codified for my feeble grey matter to decipher. I wish I could understand what they wanted to say just to get the pulse of our compatriots. There were myriad of comments and I copy paste some:
*The definition of democracy which this ruling elite is giving to Pakistan is becoming a curse for the people unfortunately.
*no to zardari’s democracy.
*Democracy in pakistan is just a dream that we have since 63 years. I have not seen ever in my life in my country during my 26 year age.
*I never saw democracy in Pakistan.

*Pakistan need democracy as well as good leadership who could be able to restore good governance. Improve the economy .Do not depend of loans…….
Pretty valid arguments especially coming from 26 year olds or so.
Some sounded different or angry and some confused:
*i personally think we don’t deserve democracy.

*We r the people who don’t deserve democracy and we can’t adopt dis even we have given a chance.
*The establishment of Khilafat via the revolution of the masses is the solution to all our problems.
*American system of democracy is the best for India and Pakistan.
*im not saying martial law is the answer, I m saying..we don’t deserve to be given power…
*we need an honest dictator to rule us…….
*Now lets Play the new debate, really it’s like a TOM & JERRY Show! every one is proving that he/she is the best. You peoples cannot change this Ethnic Mind State.
*Regardless democratic or undemocratic, lead by a honest and a fair leader, regardless in or without uniform.

I do not mean to judge each of these comments. We all reserve the right to have our opinions. However it is heart aching to read how we under estimate ourselves by saying we don’t deserve democracy.
Just holding elections and selecting (and not electing) the representatives from the Feudal Lords isn’t democracy. These so called “people’s representatives” are Feudal Lords disguising as politicians. The illiterate and ignorant voters are merely their pawns. Since we have the pawn mindset we think we do not deserve democracy or accept this sham democracy as the only answer.
Few of us talk of whip lashing military rule as the answer being naïve that military is meant to be on our “borders” and not in the “centre”.
For Lady Democracy to arrive and thrive amongst us we need to provide her with the accessories she adores—education and tolerance.
Sadly we haven’t yet tasted true democracy to know how sweet it tastes.
Hope we get to taste it someone day….

ILMANA FASIH
1 Sep 2010

Category:

Pakistan, Politics

OF HUNGER, HOMELESSNESS AND DESPERATION


Food for thought…

“There is a triple threat unfolding as this crisis widens and deepens. People have lost seeds, crops and their incomes leaving them vulnerable to hunger, homelessness and desperation – the situation is extremely critical. We urgently need continued and strengthened commitment to the people of Pakistan in this time of crisis.” says Josette Sheeran, Executive Director of World Food Programme.

She accompanies Anthony Lake, Executive Director of UNICEF to see first hand the scale of the current needs in Pakistan.
Millions of hectares of farmland lay inundated as far as the eye can see. Just overnight, the lush green fields turn into stinky swamps. They transform into breeding grounds for mosquitoes causing malaria and dengue, and into culture-medium for Cholera, Typhoid and Hepatitis.Who knew that it was not just the droughts that bring thirst and hunger?

We had presumed that rampant corruption, frequent suicide bombs, lawlessness and sky rocketing inflation had already seen its zenith prior to these killer monsoons. Who knew this was just the beginning of the misery?

Children and infants under five are the most vulnerable and first to be affected in any disaster, followed by pregnant and nursing mothers. The National Nutritional Survey statistics for Malnutrition rates (general) and Stunting rates (in children) were already alarmingly high at 13% and 36.8% respectively. Where will these statistics reach now, is nobody’s guess.

The UNICEF and WFP with numerous other local and foreign organisations have come forth to feed the hungry through energy dense and vitamin fortified Ready to Use Supplement Food (RUSF). The fliers with instructions are handed out but to many of our unlettered women they appear to be Greek and Latin. Only if these women could read the manuals to know that they are to be consumed several times a day and not all at once to get the optimum benefit.

The Chief Executives of these phantom organisations roam around fearlessly not as trekkers but as saviours to the millions, while our own local Chief Executives stay within their fortresses saving their skins. But they do speak up occasionally. It is we the feeble minded who do not get the spirit of their lip service.

When the PM talks of NGOs consuming 50% of the aid—he said it in good will. Messed up that our psyches are, we deliberately twisted his words. If the aid would go to one of his likes, even the rest 50% would also vanish into thin air. Our myopic eyes missed this hint in his wink and the naughty smile, when he uttered these golden words. Poor him.

The detective minds amongst us can even attempt to uncover a hidden American agenda behind these floods. No, I am not joking. We did so during the earthquake and some of us suspected it in tsunami too .

And it is certainly not a divine punishment either. Allah does not punish the innocent when the culprits sail scot free.
This is the blessed month of Ramadan. We fast to learn self restraint and to feel for the less fortunate among us. How can we devour table full Iftars when 20 million of our compatriots go hungry, homeless and desperate.

Ramadan also reminds us of the importance of a collective responsibility as mankind. It is time to think collectively as a nation and as humanity at large. Ramadan is a month of alms giving too. Allah specifies the minimum that we are obliged to pay to the needy. He does not prescribe an upper limit.

Let us open our hearts and minds.
Let us have a guilt free Ramadan this year.
Close your eyes and think….

ILMANA FASIH
31 August 201

Category:

Pakistan, Politics, Social Issues

OOPS! SHE DOES IT AGAIN


Food for thought…
Pakistan stands divided into Muslims, Christians, Ahmedis, Hindus, Sikhs and Parsis.
Pakistan stands divided into Sunnis,  Shias and a million other sects.
It stands divided into the filthy rich Waderas and the desperately poor Harees.
It stands divided into inhuman extremists and moderate human beings.
It stands divided into shamelessly corrupt sharks and conscientiously honest dolphins.
It stands divided into Punjabis, Sindhis and half a dozen other ethnicities.
It stands divided into powerful politicians and hapless awam.
It even stand divided into Sindhi Biryani,Chapli Kabab and Balochi Sajji.
However one string that holds Pakistan united is CRICKET.
What oxygen is to life, cricket is to Pakistan. From an army dictator to an elected politician,  from a celebrity to a common man—they all breathe cricket.
An unlettered boy in a remote town of Sibi may not be able to read his name,  but he can spell who is the current wicket keeper.
A boy from Karachi may not know his Calculus but knows how many wickets Afridi has taken.
A city girl from Rawalpindi may not know who is her Foreign Minister but knows who is Shoaib Akhter’s latest girlfriend.
A grandmother in Mardan may not know the nearest grocer but gleams up when Yunus Khan comes to bat, on TV.
Cricket is one beloved a lad called Pakistan refuses to part with, despite her history of infidelities. A little show of loyality in the form of a rare match victory or a century or even a maiden over is always enough for him to forget her previous transgressions.
Oops! She betrays him again—so heartlessly, so shamelessly.
Pakistan is terribly hurt and heart broken. I wonder if he can ever forgive her again. Enough is enough. I hope he stands up on his spine and decides to call it a day.
Pakistan , you are not alone in this hour .We- all Pakistanis, all sport lovers and all humanity the world over are with you in this tragedy.
Let us not nod our heads in denial or cry conspiracy theories. Let us awaken our sleeping conscience. Let us revisit our long forgotten values.
Lets us teach a lesson which sends shivers for centuries to come.
Let this be a new beginning of an end. The beginning of fair play, merit and sportsmanship. And the end of match fixing, doping and ball tempering.
I beg cricket to have mercy on Pakistan. I beg it not to betray Pakistan again.
No, not again.

ILMANA FASIH
31 August 2010

Category:

Cricket, Humour, Pakistan

OUT OF SIGHT BUT NOT OUT OF MIND


Food for thought…

Imagine yourself going up or down in a lift at night and the light goes off. The lift stops and one or more of you get trapped in the pitch dark. You scream at your utmost and no one hears you for less than 10 seconds. You know you are above the surface of the earth, have enough oxygen to keep breathing for some hours, surrounded by a metal cased lift walls which cannot cave in, and a button at your hand to press in case of emergency. Close your eyes and imagine how do you feel…

I know exactly how it feels. I got trapped in a lift some few floors above the ground . I saw my end from the closest and shreaked hysterically at my best for ‘help’ ‘help’ till after some 20 seconds, rescue arrived. I did not have the presence of mind to even think of pressing an emergency bell right next to me. I even had a cell phone but no presence of mind to even think of it. The state,both physical and mental, in which I walked out of that lift was only seen to be believed. So embarrassed was I for several months that I could not look the eyes of those two men who rescued me,for a long time.

The thought still sends shivers through the cells of my body.

Today, there are 33 miners trapped 2500 feet below the earth’s surface in a remote Atacama desert of a far flung country we call Chile in a remote continent by the name of South America. They haven’t been trapped for 20 seconds or 20 minutes or even 20 hours. They are there since the past 20 days. They were mining the precious metal called copper to get huge revenues for the owners and for their country. The mine caved in and the 33 miners began climbing the emergency ladder, but they could get only upto a third of the way.

Ask why? Because the mine owners had never bothered to finish the ladder to the top. If this ladder was in place they could have been out in 48 hours after the incident.

The owners of the San Esteban Mining Company that runs the mine said “it was THANKS to the safety regulations that the miners were found alive and WELL.

”Clap clap! “ (I wish I could keep my social norms up on the laddle and swear all the possible four letter words I know)

If this is not enough to shake you, the news is:they are going to stay there until December when the rescue tunnel is completed to pull them out.

Yes, they are getting oxygen, water, food, letters from the loved ones everyday through a duct with the diameter of a grapefruit. Camera too has been lowered for them to send their images and messages for their loved ones and to the rest of the world to know what they are going through.

Yes their relative are camping close to them—2300 feet vertically above them. They are really happy to see their partner’s ,son’s, father’s recorded films, showing they are alive. Yes the miners and their families are blessed. Eating, living, happy—why should they get the news coverage from our “independent media”. This is not a sellable story in our part of the world, why should our reporters or journalists hype this news.

They are not Palestinians ,they are not Iraqis, they are not suffering Indian Muslims, they are CHIIILEEEANS. Why care?

We have our own mega problems .We have BIG issues like big cricketers being pulled in a conspiracy of the gora media because our team was so good ,that no one could ever defeat us in the tests, one days or the twenty-20. Jealous world. Ehh !

Indeed we are the chosen people .Why should we care even to know whether Chile is a country or a condiment?

We have the right to cry foul when we don’t get enough foreign aid or foreign empathy for our floods and they have no right of their plight to be even known by our countrymen.

We have the right to ask for all the aid possible and they have no right to question our governance.

We have the right to call others infidels and they have no right to call us extremists.

This is the world in which we live. We look at things from a tube through which only those things which matter to us are visible. We prefer to keep the rest of the issues as” none of our business “ attitude. We are a great people!

I feel ashamed of myself.  I feel so probably because I got trapped in the lift myself. Those amongst us who didn’t they needn’t worry.

Why didn’t these floods drown my conscience?
Please think.

Think hard……..

Ilmana Fasih
30 Aug 2010

Category:

International, Politics, Social Issues