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Pied Piper of Denialistan


‘The abuse dies in a day, but the denial slays the life of the people, and entombs the hope of the race’.

Who would know the bitter effects of denial than I myself and still suffer from it’s guilt till date.
On visiting my parents in Delhi in July 1997, I clearly remember how my mom begged to me that she felt that my Papa wasn’t well and he needed a thorough cardiac check up. But my confident Papa, shooed her idea of an echocardiography . We went for a basic blood test which was all well.

Mom wasn’t convinced. Heeding her concern, I continued to watch my father  with a side gaze, off and on, to see if I could get a trace of any signs of being unwell in him. He was radiant as ever, and after all he was my Papa, and how can my Papa be wrong about his own health?

On the contrary we construed a conspiracy theory that Mom was going through Menopause, and was hence anxious and  unwell.

Twenty days after I left, I got the news that my Papa passed away, hale and hearty, while working on a computer, typing a chapter for his new book. He had a massive heart attack.

I have not forgiven myself ever since, for having lived in denial, to escape the harsh reality. Had I faced the truth head-on, life would have been different.

In a wider context, most human beings live in denial—with just the difference in the degree. We deny a thing and then wrap it in the garb of ‘conspiracy theory’.

On one extreme end, are those who deny Holocaust, the landing of man on Moon, the 9/11 incident, even the Abbotabad operation in which Osama Bin Laden was nabbed and killed. The other milder extreme are those who express “ We have stopped watching news because it is very depressing.” in an attemopt to not accept the day to day happenings around us.

But then the reasoning that we are endowed with in the neocortex, restores  the rational  thought s and we learn from our mistakes.

In Pakistan, one sees that denial has become a way of life. And we do not even learn lessons from those mistakes.

Most of us refuse to accept the problems of Pakistan as its own, and pass the buck on others—most favoured excuses being America, India.or if this doesn’t apply then we have the easiest scapegoats, the Ahmedis.  And then to forget not, the new villain in town,  the “hidden hand’ or the  “teesra haath’ which we hear so often. God knows what that is?

Twenty years ago when I was new to Pakistan, first ‘conspiracy theory’ I heard was that Pakistan’s big or small problems, even in the early 1990s, were because it wasn’t given the ‘right’ piece of land during partition owing to the love affair that Edwina had with Nehru, which influenced Lord Mountbatten’s decision..

Whenever anything untoward happened, in Pakistan, some of my ‘friends’ and kin, made sure that I knew that all that was happening was linked to India too, in some way or the other.

Last I remember being the PNS Mehran incident—in which a ‘friend’ of mine took pains to mail to me while I was visiting my mother in India that it all happened because of the involvement of RAW/Indian agents. The proof she had was that those men who came there were uncircumcised. I did not shock me, for I had heard the same explanation when the armed men had attacked the Sri Lankan team in Lahore.

And now enter the video of Amir Liaqat. It again shows the manifestation of the same ailment. . We all have a bit of double faced Amir Liaqat in us who has one face in public and another in private. Even if I wasn’t a fan of his, I would still have a corner of sympathy for the human Amir Liaqat who swore. But not after his following video of denial.

Despite of all the actions he does, including the mimicry of the Qawwali claps or the humming of “hum to thehray pardesi” Bollywood number sitting sandwiched between two Mullahs, majority of his fans are again ready to close their eyes of reasoning and follow him blind to call this ‘dubbed’ and a conspiracy against him by the Ahmedis. The support I saw ‘virtually’ on some of the facebook or twitter statuses and in passionate  ‘real’ discussions with ‘friends’,  is mindboggling. And worse still, most of his women supporters are blind and deaf towards the mockery he makes of the ‘nazuk’ ma’amla of  a girl being raped. Have their minds gone “ghass charney” ?

I have yet to come across a person, man or woman,  who previously followed him, was now changed.

Unfortunately nothing will change in terms of numbers.  In fact, those who called him Jahil on-line will continue to call him so, with more surety. While those who revere him as an Aalim will upgrade their reverence for him, and of all you know he might end up to be beatified after this incident, as a saint( aka Pir or Mujahid or whatever you chose to call) who is the victim of the ‘hassad’ of the liberals or the infidels.

Denial enmasse,  has become a “National Sickness”. And conspiracy theory is it’s outward symptom. This sickness has led to our demise as ‘thinking’ and ‘reasoning’ individuals to a large extent. Our brains have become the vestigial organs and it is the kneejerk reaction at the spinal level that  forms  our opinions.
.
So aptly has Meredith Grey summed up ‘denial’ :
Sometimes reality has a way of sneaking up and biting us in the ass. And when the dam bursts, all you can do is swim. The world of pretend is a cage, not a cocoon. We can only lie to ourselves for so long. We are tired, we are scared, denying it doesn`t change the truth. Sooner or later we have to put aside our denial and face the world. Head on, guns blazing. De Nile. It`s not just a river in Egypt, it`s a freakin` ocean. So how do you keep from drowning in it?

Needless to say, not just Amir Liaqat,  several Pied Pipers of Denialistan are out in the open, who have led and already drowned  a large chunk of us into the sea of ignorance.

I thought I’ll share this with you…


Insufficient rain, drought, civil war, religious extremism, escalating food prices, bored donors of the world are all responsible for the unprecedented situation that the famine of Horn of African has reached. A handful of bodies are striving to make a difference.

There are 13 million people at risk of dying from it. And like most calamities-natural or man made , the most vulnerable are the children.

Young children are dying on their way to or within a day of arrival at camps in Ethiopia and Kenya, There are more than 50% of Somali children arriving in Ethiopia are seriously malnourished. In Kenya, that figure is between 30% and 40%.( UNHCR).

I know we all are aware of the situation but perhaps the day to day issues, our own personal and public problems make us unable to look deeper into the problem.

Going through the routine news feeds, I came across some harrowing stories about the drought which chilled me to the bones and I felt extremely guilty for not being able to give it the due importance that I should.

The stories are numerous, but the most moving were related to the kids, which would be enough to shake our conscience. However I thought I’ll share some related to the children there….

“When Somali mother Eblah Sheikh Aden gathered her seven children and set off walking for Ethiopia to find food, she never imagined she would end up sending some of her brood back into the heart of famine.
“They were extremely sick and there wasn’t food here,” she told Reuters in the Kobe Camp in Ethiopia. “I couldn’t watch them die and had to make a decision.”
It took Eblah two days to walk to the camp but another nine days for her to be registered to stay, such are the numbers of sick and hungry streaming. (Yahoo News)).

A father carrying the dead body of his one month old son: “We had taken Addo to the clinic but he never recovered,” said Hasano, who had fled southern Somalia with his wife and his one month-old son. “I’m now looking for space to bury him,” he said, nearly an hour after Addo died from severe malnutrition.(Yahoo News).

In Dadaab, Kenya, a refugee Barwago Mohamud huddles silently beneath a few blankets stretched over sticks at night, fearing for her life after a neighbor was raped, and a naked woman who had been kidnapped and gang-raped for three days in front of her terrified children was delivered to the medical tent next door.
“What can we do?” Mohamud remarked. “Our neighbors have been raped at night. We are afraid. Some boys are helping watch at night in case of trouble but they also work during the day.”
And Mohamud, whose door is only a blanket draped on a stick, keeps her daughters close and dreads each sunset.(BBC)

“There is the story of Sahan who was on a bus coming over from Somalia when four gunmen stopped the vehicle. The women were ordered off and raped in the bush for three hours. She has not reported the rape because she was living far away from any medical services on the outskirts of the camp and did not want to leave her family. She asked her last name not be used to protect her privacy.” (BBC)

“Eyangan’s worry for her grandkids is constant. Four year-old Alemilemi is suffering from a protein deficiency illness, Kwashiorkor, stunted growth and malnutrition while his younger brother and follower Tipen is severely malnourished. Tipen is weak and tired from dehydration and hunger. “He has since given up on crying because he can only cry but there is no food to offer. I only gave him black tea just to stop him from crying,” Eyangan explains. (World Vision).

Now the news is that Tipen has died.

Along with these tragic stories about kids there is some tiny  ray of hope too.

An 11-year-old Andrew Andasi, a Ghanaian schoolboy has so far raised more than $500 (£300) for victims of the famine in Somalia.
He launched his campaign last week after watching footage of people walking in search of food.
He told the BBC he wanted to raise a total of $13m during his school holidays from private donations.
After a meeting with the UN World Food Programme Bank director in Ghana to ask for advice, Andrew set up a bank account for donations on Tuesday.
“I’m very very sure that I can raise it in just one month,” he told the BBC.
“I want individuals, companies, churches, other organisations to help me get 20m Ghana cedis.”

Said he:
“If I get the opportunity to go to Somalia I will talk and I will let the UN to make an announcement the warring groups in Somalia should stop because of the sick children and women,”
(BBC).

With these chilling stories of the famine, I wonder if our own stake holders of peace will ever learn any lesson.
Or maybe for them our floods are enough of a deterrent against famine on our land, hence, carry on the killing fields unabated.
I just wonder. .

(P.S. All the stories are simply copy-pasted the way I read them from various sources mentioned in the parenthesis.)

National anthem of Pakistan


Pāk sarzamīn shād bād
Kishwar-e-hasīn shād bād
Tū nishān-e-`azm-e-`alīshān
Arz-e-Pākistān!
Markaz-e-yaqīn shād bād

Blessed be the sacred land
Happy be the bounteous realm
Thou symbol of high resolve
O Land of Pakistan!
Blessed be thou centre of faith
Pāk sarzamīn kā nizām

Qūwat-e-ukhūwat-e-`awām
Qaum, mulk, sultanat
Pā-inda tābinda bād!
Shād bād manzil-e-murād

The order of this sacred land
Is the might of the brotherhood of the people
May the nation, the country, and the state
Shine in glory everlasting!
Blessed be the goal of our ambition

Parcham-e-sitāra-o-hilāl
Rahbar-e-tarraqqī-o-kamāl
Tarjumān-e-māzī, shān-e-hāl
Jān-e-istiqbāl!
Sāyah-e-Khudā-e-Zū-l-Jalāl

The flag of the crescent and star
Leads the way to progress and perfection
Interpreter of our past, glory of our present
Inspiration of our future!
Shelter of God, the Glorious and Mighty

Written by: Hafiz Jallandhari, 1952
Composer:  Ahmed Ghulam Chagla in 1950
Fisrt played on Radio Pakistan : 13 August 1954.

Rabindranath Tagore ~If they answer not to thy call WALK ALONE,


Rabindranath Tagore was a larger than life personality –  poet,  philosopher, playwright, novelist, essayist, painter, composer and educator.

He was the first non Europeon to get a  Nobel Prize in 1911, which he  received as Nobel Prize in Literature for his collection of poems which were initially written in Bengali, but later translated in English by himself.

He is the only person who has the honour of being the lyricist of National Anthems of two countries –namely Jana Gana Mana of India and Shonar Bangla of Bangladesh.

He translated Shakespeare from English to Bengali in his teens. He also translated 100 poems of  saint Kabirdas from Hindi to English in 1930s , hence familiarising Kabir as the most read Indian poet to the west in  those times.

Rabindranath Tagore, was knighted with the title of ‘Sir’ when he won the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1911. However, after the Jallianwala Bagh massacre in 1916, he gave up the knighthood in protest.

He, thrice, refused invitation to visit Canada in protest against the massacre of 376 native Indians in Komagat Maru incident in 1914. However, when he visited Canada at the invitation of National Council of Education to address at the triennial conference, Vancouver he made it a point to make his statement as follows:

“Canada must believe in great ideals. She will have to solve . . . the most difficult of all problems, the race problem.”

Tagore also had the opportunity to interact one on one with another ‘great’ of his times, namely Einstein. Their highly intellectual conversations are documented word to word. An  excerpt from the dialogue of one of the three meetings is as follows:

TAGORE: Melody and harmony are like lines and colors in pictures. A simple linear picture may be completely beautiful; the introduction of color may make it vague and insignificant. Yet color may, by combination with lines, create great pictures, so long as it does not smother and destroy their value. 
EINSTEIN: It is a beautiful comparison; line is also much older than color. It seems that your melody is much richer in structure than ours. Japanese music also seems to be so.

Y B Yeats another Nobel Laureatte oet who later wrote the Introduction of Tagore’s Geetanjili had the chance to read Tagore before he met him. He commented, ” I have carried these manuscripts with me for days, reading it in railway trains, on top of  omnibuses, inrestaurants and often had to close it lest some stranger see how much it moved me.”

Gandhi and Tagore’s differences are famous and still debated. While Gandhi started a non cooperation movement against the British, Tagore remarked,” …there was a thin line between nationalism and xenophobia —besides, hatred of the foreigner could later turn into a hatred of Indians different from oneself.”

He was particularly sceptical of the claim that non-co-operation had or would dissolve Hindu-Muslim differences. And ultimately Tagore was proved right on this issue.

The two  personalities met only twice, but kept a regular communication through articles and letters. And like two great human beings, they kept high regard for each other, despite differences.

Gandhi remarked:  “Gurudev and I early discovered certain differences of outlook between us. Our mutual affection has, however, never suffered by reason 0 f our differences … ” 

Another Nobel Peace Laureatte Aun San Su Kyi is another person who derives inspiration from Tagore. And claims her “most precious lesson” had been from Tagore: “If no one answers your call, walk alone.”( the above poem).

Apart from being a eastern mystic, Tagore was a visionary who articulated ideals of humanism, equality and freedom long before the League of Nations or the Universal Declaration of Human Rights of 1948.  Tagore was  one of the strongest critics of war and colonialism, fascism, and the dangers of narrow-minded nationalism.

In the 1920s, he had already identified racism as the greatest problem in a fast globalizing world.

Perhaps looking at today’s world he was accurate in his prediction, sadly though. 

The following is a popular poem written by Rabindranth Tagore.  The music for the song was also composed by him.

Jodi Tor Dak Soone Keu Na Asse
Tobe Ekla Chalo re
Ekla Chalo Ekla Chalo Ekla Chalore

Jodi Keu Katha Na Kai Ore Ore O Abhaga
Jodi Sabai Thake Mukh Firae Sabai Kare Bhay
Tabe Paran Khule
O Tui Mukh Fute Tor Maner Katha Ekla Balo re

Jodi Sabai Fire Jai Ore Ore O Abhaga
Jodi Gahan Pathe Jabar Kale Keu Feere Na Chay
Tobe Pather Kanta
O Tui Rakta Makha Charan Tale Ekla Dalo re

Jodi Alo Na Dhare Ore Ore O Abhaga
Jodi Jharr Badale Andhar Rate Duar Deay Ghare
Tobe Bajranale
Apaan Buker Panjar Jaliey Nieye Ekla Jalo re

English translation: *Touching words*

If they answer not to thy call WALK ALONE,

If they are afraid and cower mutely facing the wall,
O you unfortunate,
open thy mind and SPEAK OUT ALONE.

If they turn away, and desert you when crossing the wilderness,
O you unfortunate,
trample the thorns under thy tread,
and along the blood-lined track TRAVEL ALONE

If they do not hold up the light when the night is troubled with storm,
O you unfortunate,
with the thunder flame of pain ignite thy own heart
and let it BURN ALONE.


Is there any difference ?


On the night of  14 /15 August 1947 apparently India and Pakistan parted their ways.

With due respect to their independent existence,  is there anything else that can part the two peoples who have the same history, same genetic pool, same climate, same mountains, same rivers, same culture, similar foods, similar fashions, similar aspirations, similar problems, and even similar patriotic songs?

Yeah, we have similar patriotic songs too.

Don’t believe it? Have a look :

And this :

So is there any difference ?

Just the names.

But what’s in a name ?

PAKISTAN INDIA KE LOG ZINDABAD

Ilmoun bas kari oo yaar~Bulleh Shah by Sain Zahoor


Translation:
by Kartar Singh Duggal

Ilmoun bas kari oo yaar
Eko Alif terey darkar

Enough of learning, my friend!
An alphabet should do for you

Ilm n awey wich shumar
Jandi umer, Nahi aytebar
Eko Alif terey darkar
Ilmoun bas kari oo yaar

To it there is never an end
An alphabet should do for you
It’s enough to help you fend.
Enough of learning, my friend!

Ilmoun bas kari oo yaar
Enough of learning, my friend!

Parh parh, likh likh ladain dher
Dher kitabaan, cho pheyr
Kerdey chanan, Wich unheyr
Pecho: “Rah?” tey khabar n satar

You’ve amassed much learning around
The Quran and its commentaries profound
There is darkness amidst lighted ground
Without the guide you remain unsound

Ilmoun bas kari oo yaar
Enough of learning, my friend!

Parh perh shekh mashaikh khawein
Ultey masley gharoon bata dein
Bey ilmaan noon lut lut khawein
Jhotey Sachey karain aqrqr

Learning makes you Sheikh or his minion
And thus you create problem trillion
You exploit oyhers who know not what
Misleading them with wild opinion

Ilmoun bas kari oo yaar
Enough of learning, my friend!

Parh parh nafal namaz guzarien
Achian bangaan changha mari
Manber tey chaRRh waaz pukarein
Keeta teeno ilm khawar

You meditate and you say your prayers
You go and shout at the top of the stairs
You cry reaching the high skies
It’s your avarice which ever belies

Ilmoun bas kari oo yaar
Enough of learning, my friend!

Jed main sabaq Ishq da parhaya
Derya dekh Wahedat da warria
Ghuman gheraan dey wich uRRia
Shah Inayat laya paar

The day I learnt love’s lesson
I plunged into the river of devine passion
An overwhelming gale. I was confused and lost
When Shah Inayat cruised me across

Ilmoun bas kari oo yaar
Enough of learning, my friend!

Buss ker ji hun buss ker ji~Bulleh Shah


This post is dedicated to the inseparable cultures of India and Pakistan. A great example of how India’s Sufi singers (of one faith) sing with devotion the Kafi of a Sufi saint ( of another faith) who’s origins were in what is now Pakistan.

Bulleh Shah is considered as the greatest mystic poet of the Punjab, his compositions have been regarded as “the pinnacle of Sufi literature.” Scholars and dervishes have called him “The Sheikh of Both the Worlds,” “The man of God,” “The Knower of Spiritual Grace” and by other equally edifying titles.

Kartar Singh Duggal, a renowned writer and author of The Mystic Muse: Sain Bulleh Shah writes:
“Bulleh Shah was an evolved soul, a perfect faqir and a true lover. Through the love for his Master he realized the Lord. In his love one finds poignancy, ardor and longing besides sincerity, sacrifice and renunciation. Under the canopy of love he made his offerings of caste and learning. His love for his Master never wavered for a moment despite the fire of separation and longing through which he passed. His writings, as also his life, manifest transcendence of physical love ( of the Master) to divine love ( of the Lord).”

It is said that once Bulleh Shah annoyed his Master due to some indiscretion and he was thrown out of the his Master’s circle( called Daira).

Several months passed; Bulleh begged forgiveness, repented, had other devotees speak to the master,  who would not relent. Suffering the pangs of separation, Bulleh sang soulful Kafis. There are many of them, and the pain in each of them increased, with the passage of time.

One such kafi which is my favourite is :
Bas kar ji hun bas kar ji,
Ik baat asaan naal has kar ji.

Tuseen dil mere vich vasde ho,
Aeven saathon door kyon nhasde ho.
Naale ghat jaadu dil khasde ho,
Hun kit val jaaso nhas kar ji.
Bas kar ji hun bas kar ji.

Tuseen moiyaan nu maar na mukde si,
Khido vaang khoondi nit kutde si.
Gahl kardiyaan da gal ghutde si,
Hun teer lagaaiyo kahs kar ji.
Bas kar ji hun bas kar ji.

Tuseen chapde ho asaan pakare ho,
Asaan naal zulf de jakre ho.
Tusi aje chapan nu takre ho,
Hun jaan na milda nas kar ji.
Bas kar ji hun bas kar ji.

Bulha shauh maen teri bardi haan,
Tera muhk vekhan nu mardi haan.
Nit sau sau mintaaN kardi haan,
Hun baeth pinjar vich ghass kar ji.
Bas kar ji hun bas kar ji.

Enough! Now enough!
Smile! Speak to me!
You inhabit my heart.
Enough! Now enough!

You do not tire of killing the already-slain.
You play with me, a ball thrown over and over again at a stump.
If I speak, you gag me,
You might as well just pierce the arrow right into me!
Enough! Now enough!

If you hide, I will catch you.
I will tie you in my tresses.
You are able to stay hidden for now,
But you will not be able to escape from me.
Enough! Now enough!

Says Bulha, I am your slave.
I die to see your face.
I plead with you a thousand times,
O enter this cage. Occupy it.
Enough! Now enough!
~Translation BY Suman Kashyap

The same Bulleh Shah Kafi sung by Wadali brothers:

“There are people in the world so hungry, that God cannot appear to them except in the form of bread.” ― Mahatma Gandhi


But I, being poor, have only my dreams. I have spread my dreams under your feet; tread softly, because you tread on my dreams.”
~William Butler Yeats quotes (Irish Poet. Nobel Prize for Literature in 1923. )

Cherish whatever makes you unique, ‘cuz you’re really a yawn if it goes. ~Better Midler


Each second we live is a new and unique moment of the universe, a moment that will never be again And what do we teach our children? We teach them that two and two make four, and that Paris is the capital of France. When will we also teach them what they are?

We should say to each of them: “Do you know what you are? You are a marvel. You are unique. In all the years that have passed, there has never been another child like you. Your legs, your arms, your clever fingers, the way you move. You may become a Shakespeare, a Michelangelo, a Beethoven. You have the capacity for anything.”

~ Henry David Thoreau

Poems by Rainer Maria Rilke


The favourites:

“I am too alone in the world, and yet not alone enough
to make every moment holy.
I am too tiny in this world, and not tiny enough
just to lie before you like a thing,
shrewd and secretive.
I want my own will, and I want simply to be with my will,
as it goes toward action;
and in those quiet, sometimes hardly moving times,
when something is coming near,
I want to be with those who know secret things
or else alone.
I want to be a mirror for your whole body,
and I never want to be blind, or to be too old
to hold up your heavy and swaying picture.
I want to unfold.
I don’t want to stay folded anywhere,
because where I am folded, there I am a lie.
and I want my grasp of things to be
true before you. I want to describe myself
like a painting that I looked at
closely for a long time,
like a saying that I finally understood,
like the pitcher I use every day,
like the face of my mother,
like a ship
that carried me
through the wildest storm of all.”

“I can’t make every minute holy.
I don’t want to stand before you
like a thing, shrewd, secretive.
I want my own will, and I want
simply to be with my will,
as it goes toward action.
And in the silent, sometimes hardly moving times,
when something is coming near,
I want to be with those who know
secret things or else alone.
I want to unfold.
I don’t want to be folded anywhere,
because where I am folded,
there I am a lie.”

“Extinguish my eyes, I’ll go on seeing you.
Seal my ears, I’ll go on hearing you.
And without feet I can make my way to you,
without a mouth I can swear your name.
Break off my arms, I’ll take hold of you
with my heart as with a hand.
Stop my heart, and my brain will start to beat.
And if you consume my brain with fire,
I’ll feel you burn in every drop of my blood.”

Author: Rainer Maria Rilke (4 December 1875 – 29 December 1926), was a Bohemian–Austrian poet. He is considered one of the most significant poets in the German language. His haunting images focus on the difficulty of communion with the ineffable: themes that tend to position him as a transitional figure between the traditional and the modernist poets.