PLEASE SHARE WITH FRIENDS IF YOU REALLY LOVE PAKISTAN. Father’s Day in Balochistan? The other day, world celebrated father’s day so a formal smile of indebtedness could be directed to a special person who once was like a pavement on which posterity would ramble, shamble and gamble like a sheltered path towards ultimate destiny. Notwithstanding their ages, children of the world cried and sighed for their fathers either dead or alive. As usual, flowers either single or bunched came to rescue and were used in abundance to portray this ‘once in a year’ gesture of outwardly affection towards fathers of the world. But, Alas! Not every father was that lucky to experience that coveted mimicry of contrived affection as some children chose to gesture their affection in a rather unusual manner. The other day, some misguided children of the soil decided to acknowledge the love, devotion and affection of their father by destroying his home with unconventional arsenal so the bang could be louder and could pass the political and geographical boundaries, and reach the last omen of nothingness; Jinnah’s residence in Ziarat was wrecked to ashes by his own sons whom he left in the lap of their young mothers to breastfeed them so they could become proud symbol of their father’s courage, sagacity and determination. Yes, they did grow up, turned out robust, became sagacious, and indeed filled with utmost determination. But somewhere down the road – well, no one has been able to figure out the exact timing so far – while they were growing up, someone left the children unattended and uncared to let them come under the spell of hallucinating deprivation, and resultantly, they simply forgot how to use that hard-earned courage, sagacity and determination; hence the use of ear-popping missiles and bombs to return the love and affection of their father instead of flowers and bouquets! Well, I am sure the father must have been wondering that how different the modes of celebrations have become in a short span of 65 years since he left. Well, they say at least we are not a stagnant society and one has to pay the price of progression – ideological contamination is not worthy enough to be the price and must not be mentioned! Kudos to conventional wisdom, the pundits of the power-that-be have zealously announced that father of the nation’s summertime residence will be built in the same shape like it was before ballistic expression of some deranged ‘nationalist’ youngsters. Wow, this spontaneous gesture of ‘other-worldly’ devotion and mark of indebtedness towards Quid most certainly is unprecedented, hence enviable. Even the ruthless brutality perpetrated by some ideologically deranged elements ‘daisy-cuttered’ the most precious and unmatchable gifts to humanity from the divine being i.e. daughters of our nation with eyes filled with hope and glittering giggles that would put a smile even on the churning lips of Hades! The fatherly hands, that were used every morning to hold the pretty little braided heads and to pat on the rosy cheeks of those emblems of hope, were holding the unrecognizably ruptured bodies and were asking the cannibalistic murderers an unimaginable question: why such double standard prevails in your religious believes that when your God sends his angelic-messenger to your Prophet to make him utter the word “READ” then his act of reading would lay the foundation of the most esteemed system of beliefs and social emancipation which you cherish but when a small little girl exuberates with unflinching urge to utter the same word “READ” then you butcher her like an animal in the name of the same Prophet! Ah! Ah! Sigh! Sigh! So spirit of the father of the nation clamored to the pundits of the power-that-be that “O remnants of ‘bygone glory’, don’t spend piles of my people’s money on building my destroyed house as a mark of my memory as I died a long time ago and you didn’t even care if I ever existed; instead, buy a little hope for the mother who lost her daughter in the name of your religion, buy some wooden pales for the father whose giggling daisy was butchered in the name of darkness so he could fill it with unstoppable tears that he would shed for the rest of his life, build some roads so every morning the grieving mother could walk to her daughter’s grave where she was buried like a seed of glittering hope that one day an enlightened future would sprout out of it, buy some books and give them to my angry sons who waited for 65 tedious years to realize their dream of emancipation from feudal and state persecution so they could learn how to stand in front of brutal exploiting forces, and take away their guns, buy some coffins for the mutilated bodies of my sons that you have been torturing to death in the name of national security so mothers could put their heads in their laps and smell the milk they fed them, buy some food to feed my children that I left under your care instead of butchering them as what are you going to secure if you are hell bent to butcher all my blossoming sons who are my pride! I beg you, please don’t build that house in my name as I would never live in it again but if you leave its ashes like this then someday a phoenix of love, hope and unity will rise from the churning ashes! I wonder if we will ever listen to our father and make him proud of us!
Posted on: Sun, 23 Jun 2013 06:43:33 +0000
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