How I Became an Atheist

When I was a child I used to believe in things like ghosts, monsters, god and equality. I’ve since done away with many of those beliefs, though I still believe monsters exist, I see them on the news sometimes.

To be clear, I stem from a fairly conservative middle class family. My mother was wholly in favour of having a religious scholar come around every evening to compound my material learning with the spiritual kind. This entailed reciting verses in a language I didn’t understand, but was taught to read fluently.

It was a beautiful thing, come to think of it, chanting those delectable words without being encumbered by the banality of meaning. If I were an aesthetic purist back then as I am now, I would have loved it. But I was just a kid, and it made little sense to me.

Sometimes the Qari, as he was called, would sleep in his chair while I was reciting. Sometimes he would snore. My mother once complained of sleeplessness and I offered to read her the Quran, she was not amused.

When I finished the verses, it was deemed important enough an occasion to merit it’s own celebration. We in this culture share our joy by making each other fat with sweets, and then spend the days in between being miserable for putting on weight.

In school, they taught us about the history of Islam and how gloriously it was spread on the back of the sword. The kids would chatter about the tales of bravery and courage by the early caliphs, they’d invoke the names on the playground, where some skirmish or war was reenacted every day.

Back then, all I really wanted was a bicycle. I would see all these kids flying around on the streets outside like they were roman warriors on flattened, awkward looking chariots, basking in the dust and glory of the streets of Lahore. Seeing no imminent signs of procuring one, my mother had played the ‘it’s not safe’ card, I turned to prayer.

But just when I was about to ask for one, I realized that god must be a busy person, entertaining prayers from kids like me all over the world, not to mention those annoyingly needful grown ups. It was unlikely that he’d be in the habit of answering more than one prayer from the same person; simply not enough time. So if I wanted to ask for something, why not make it really good?

I upgraded my prayer from a bicycle to a jeep, and on further reflection, from a jeep to a helicopter, and finally a yacht. That was the limit of my imagination back then.

I would be the happiest kid in the world if god just gave me a yacht. It needn’t be the biggest yacht in the world, but what’s size to the purveyor of all the universe? It might as well be.

I got up from the prayer mat feeling pleased with myself, I had reasoned myself into an enterprising supplication. God had to give everyone at least one wish in their lifetime right? So if I just kept asking for a yacht I was sure to eventually get one.

That didn’t work out the way I had planned. I have a car now but it sinks quite easily in water. See that’s the thing with religion and reason. If you try and apply one on the other, well, it’s like oil and water, they never mix and you just get scolded by your mother for making a mess.

But I was a slow learner, I would contest religion with reason many times over, and think myself into tiny little migraines.

I was always told that something could not come from nothing. Everything needed a creator and a sustainer. My young mind likened it to the things I consumed every day. Everything came with a manufacturer’s label. I wondered if there was a print on my butt that said ‘made in heaven’. But found none.

Then I realized the same thing could be said of god. How did he come from nothing? Without a creator or a sustainer? How was he just…there? Was that not nonsensical too?

Then there were god’s widely proclaimed attributes.

God was great.

God was all powerful.

God was all merciful.

Yet he was the most just too. Just what? Confused? How could something be the epitome of both justice and mercy given that god’s justice is the retributive kind. That’s the same concept of justice and mercy that our father used when grounding us for the slightest mischief, “I am strict, but kind, it could’ve been worse, I could’ve disowned you”. Way to playing on people’s fears.

God was also all knowing, he already knew which people were going to end up in heaven and which people in hell. So what was the point of playing it all out? It’d be like watching daytime reruns of an old and unpopular soap opera.

He was all seeing, that meant he saw you when you were in the loo, or in the shower, rubbing soap under your armpits and squinting into the water. Or when you were…you know.

Watching it all. What a voyeur! This kind of stuff would land him in prison quicker than he could say khyber pakhtunkhwa. Had he never heard of privacy laws?

If god resided on earth he’d be a registered stalker. Everyone would have a restraining order against him. He’d be like that homeless guy looking into people’s windows and stealing their mail. Nobody would like him. Nobody would want to be friends with him. Who wants to be friends with someone who already knows all your dirty secrets? That’s just no fun.

He was also all wise. Yeah, a huge, endlessly sprawling universe and 7 billion people stuck on one tiny planet. That was some municipal development level wisdom right there.

Then came a point when I realized that I could do a lot of things that god never can. I could lie, cheat, steal, get drunk, have sex, rickroll people online and, you know, die. By the end of my life I’d have experientially defeated god, for he is bound by his goodness to never indulge in vices.

Then came a point when I realized that the idea of heaven was pure torture too. What would I do for all of eternity? Really, what?

Eternal existence without any sense of time or how or why would be just as unbearable as senseless oblivion, so why fear the one thing and not the other? The fear of death was at the core of all spiritual longing, but I didn’t understand how people couldn’t fear perpetual meaningless life? The thought terrified me. Especially with the kind of company one could expect in heaven.

Then I realized that god himself must exist in an existential quandary. He must be the most tortured soul of them all. His existence does indeed precede his essence and he is compelled to exist, there is no way out. He must ask of himself the same questions that we do here on earth. Why am I here? What is my purpose? Why am I talking to myself? Is that a strawberry muffin in the fridge?

He must be lonely. And miserable. Having no equal, nobody to look upto, no mentor, no closure, no sense of belonging.

Finally I realized that sitting around trying to rationalize an abstract entity that may or may not exist is probably not the best way to spend my days on earth. Reason and religion, oil and water, I was slow but it came to me at last. But something still bothered me, why did other people not think like this? Like me? Why did they cling on to their beliefs?

I would see my mother fastidiously kneeling over her prayer mat everyday and figured that okay, people need this like they need caffeine or alcohol or happy pills, who was I to take away their crutches. But then you never realize how dangerous handicapped people can be until they turn that crutch skywards and bash you on the head with it.

See I never wanted to be a militant, take a stand on things sort of an atheist, primarily because I loathe to think that atheism is anything that defines me as a person. I am not a contrarian, I don’t want to rest my world view on denying somebody else’s. Atheism was just the first step in my personal development to something more fulfilling and wholesome, without the incongruency and limitation of religion.

But, we are forced to define and defend ourselves against an aggressively vocal majority. They deny us the space for personal growth by making us defend our lack of credence in their tales. They keep pushing us back to the point where some of us are even inclined to think that atheism, the denial of an imagined worldview, is indeed the crowning achievement of human rationality, that it is something to be proud of. That it is the battle won. It isn’t. Atheists can be just as bigoted, biased, racist, sexist and immoral as anyone else.

So now I’m a pretty vocal atheist, despite my better judgment and distaste with the term itself. Even in a country where that is ostensibly masochistic behaviour. Sometimes I get threatening stares in the market place or even at home when unsavoury people are around.

But I am compelled to explain to them that I no longer feel the need to be coddled by concepts of godhood and immortality, because they answer none of life’s inherent, puzzling questions.

Pakistan ke Tazjiakaar – 2

(Testing  blogging in Urdu, please do tell me if it’s not readable or isn’t working for other reasons. Lots of spelling mistakes in there because of google transliterates wonkiness. Can’t blame them though)

یہ زہر بخاری ہیں. یہ صرف زہر کہلاتی ہی نہیں زہر اگلتی بھی ہیں. ہر ایک سے لڑتی ہیں. اپنے مہمانوں سے، سیاستدانوں سے، سڑک پر چلتے لوگوں سے، اگر انکو کمرے میں اکیلا چھوڑ دیا جائے تو اپنے آپ سے بھی لڑ پڑیں. انکی چیخ وپکار سے لوگاندھے، گونگے اور بہرے ہو چکے ہیں، ذہنی توازن کھو بیٹھے ہیں. انکا واحد ٹالک شو ہے جو لوگ آواز بند کرکے دیکھتے ہیں

کچھ لوگ کہتے ہیں کے انکی شکل مادھوری سے کافی ملتی ہے. ویسے دیکھا جائے تو گدھے کی شکل بھی گھوڑے سے کافی ملتی ہے پر ان کے حسن کا موازنہ نہیں کیا جاتا

انکے پاس ہر چیز کی تردید کرنے کے لئے ایک کاغذ موجود ہوتا ہے، جس پر اتنا لکھا ہوتا ہے کے آپ غلط ہیں اور میں صحیح

یہ بدزائد حامد ہیں. یہ آلہ درجے کے مسخرے ہیں. پاکستان میں اگر سوہیل احمد کے بعد طنز و مزہ میں کوئی نام ہے تو وہ انکا ہی ہے

یہ شہنشاہ وقت کی ترہا اپنے آپ کو ہم سے مخاطب کرتے ہیں. ہم نے یہ سوچا، یہ چاہا، ہم نے صبح اٹھ کر گلی میں پیشاب کیا، وغیرہ

بدزائد جہادی بھی ہیں اور فسادی بھی. جہاد یہ ماضی کے خلاف کرتے ہیں اور فساد حال کے خلاف. تاریخ سے انہیں نفرت ہے. دراصل یہ تاریخ کے مضمون میں اکثر فیل ہوجایا کرتے تھے. اپنی تو اصلاح نا کرسکے، لہٰذا تاریخ بدلنے نکل پڑے

بدزائد کا موکف یہ ہے کے آج کل کی تمام تحقیقات اور ایجادات کی بنیاد مسلمانوں نے ڈالی تھی. دنیا کی گولائی، آسمان کی لمبائی، قائنات کی چوڑائی وغیرہ. انصاف بھی مسلمانوں نے ایجاد کیا، پہلا قاضی مسلمان تھا. حساب بھی، پہلا منشی بھی مسلمان تھا. پہیہ بھی مسلمانوں کی ایجاد ہے اور کیونکے اس کے بغیر نا تو گاڑی چل سکتی ہے نہ گھڑی، اس لئے یہ اجادات بھی مسلمانوں کے کھاتے میں آتی ہیں 

دنیا کا نقشہ بھی مسلمانوں نے سب سے پہلے مقمّل کیا تھا. دنیا اراق سے شروع ہوتی تھی اور مصر پر ختم. پھر یہ ناہنجار انگریز دنیا کو پھیلا کر ناجانے کدھر لے گئے. اب تو شروع ہوتی ہے کے ختم ہونے کا نام ہی نہیں لیتی. انگریز ایسی جگہیں ڈھونڈ بیٹھے ہیں جہاں تک اونٹ کا سفر بھی ممکن نہیں 

قانونسازی میں بہت ترقی کی مسلمانوں نے. ان سے پہلے لاقانونیت کا دور تھا. قتل وغارت آم تھا، زلم وستم آم تھا، سب کرتے تھے. پھر اسلام آیا، قانون لایا، اب قتل و غارت خاص ہے، ظلم و ستم خاص ہے، صرف مسلمان کرتے ہیں

کچھ لوگ کہتے ہیں کے بدزائد ایجنسیوں کے ساتھ ملوث ہیں. بھلا یہ کیا بات ہوئی، کبھی کوئی دریا بھی ندی میں بہتا ہے؟ یہ کہیں کے ایجنسیاں بدزائد کے ساتھ ملوث ہیں

یہ میر حامد میر ہیں. یہ سیاستدانوں کی لڑائی کراتے ہیں. آپنے ساس بہو کی لڑائی کا سنا ہوگا، سانپ اور نیولے کی لڑائی کا سنا ہوگا، مگر سیاستدانوں کی لڑائی دیکھ کر سب بھول جاینگے

میر صاحب کو مرکزی حکومت سے بھی بوہت خفگی ہے. درحقیقت سینیٹر رحمان ملک کی جب نائی کی دکان ہوا کرتی تھی، تو انہوں نے ایک مرتبہ میر صاحب کی موچھیں مںنے سے انکار کردیا تھا.  اس بات کو میر صاحب دل پر لے گئے، سیاستدانوں کو نفرت کا نشانہ بنانے لگے. ستم در ستم، آج رحمان ملک وزیر داخلہ ہیں اور حامد میر کی مونچ ابھی تک نہیں مننے ہوئی. اب تو انکے ہونٹ بھی نظر نہیں آتے

 

یہ پتا نہیں کون ہیں، انکا نام کامران ہے شاید. یہ تیسری جراب کی طرھ تجزیاکاری کی دنیا کا ایک غیر ضروری حصّہ ہیں. انکا پروگرام کوئی نہیں دیکھتا، ہتاکے گھر جا کر یہ خود بھی نہیں دیکھتے. انکو رہنے دی جئے آگے چلتے ہیں 

یہ کاشف عبّاسی ہیں. انکی سب سے بڑی خوبی یہ ہے کے یہ انصار عبّاسی یا حنیف عبّاسی نہیں. یہ تجزیاکاری کی دنیا کے وحید مراد ہیں، یا چلیں، بابر علی ہی سہی، مقصد بات کا یہ ہے کے پروگرام کے آخر میں لڑکی یہ ہی پٹا کر لے جاتے ہیں    

Pakistan Ke Tajziakaar – 1

yes, it’s another roman-urdu massacre.

 

 

yeh orya namaqool jan hen. yeh nazriyate mujahid hein, baaton ki jihad kerte hen. column nigar hein, tajziakaar hein aur apne farigh waqt men mohallay ke chappar se meindak bhagate hein. qad chota reh jane ki waja se inko angrezon ki sirf burayan nazar ati hen, achayan nazar nahin atin. akhir achai oonchi hoti hai, burai neechi.

inko islam ka shandar maazi bohut yad ata hai. woh din jab khalil khan fakhta uraya kerte the. jab musalmanon ka dunya per raj hota tha, angrezi bhi arbi lehje men boli jati thi, ya arbion ke ehteram men boli hi nahin jati thi. jab mahmood ghaznavi sohn halwa khilane apna lashkar multan laya kerte the. jab andaloos men auqaf walon ki ijazat se masjiden tameer hoti thin.

kher, is daur ke chale jaane men kuch qasoor khalil khan ka khud bhi hai, agr fakhta ki bajaye koi shikari parinda uraa liya kerte, maslan shaheen, tau woh din na jaate.

ye kehte hen ke jamhoori nizam nakaam hochuka he aur ab khilafat ki baari he. ye baarian laga ker hukmarani khelna tau samajh nahin ata, magr ye havaala dete hen khilafate-e-rashida ka. ke woh daur hukmarani ki umda misaal tha. mujhe tau nahin yad kab rashida khalifa bani, magr chalen, namaqool kehte hen tau sahi kehte honge.

muashre men phelti fahashi ne inko bohut uksaya he. fahosh ganon ke sakht khilaf hen. sheila ki jawani ke sakht khilaf hen. in ke khyal men sheila ko jawan hona hi nahin chahiye tha, seedhi boorhi hojati, maut parti thi?

mukhatasaran ye samajh lijiye ke inko islam ke sath zaroorat se ziada mohabbat he. yeh baaten islam ki kerte hen. tareefen islam ki kerte hen. shairi bhi sirf amjad islam ki parhte hen. yeh kehte hen ke har sawal ka jawab islam men maujood he. jee han, hisab ke sawalon ka bhi, muashiaat ke sawalon ka bhi. lehaza apni ilmi kitaben utha ker phenk den. aur parchon ki tyari quran-o-hadith se kiya keren. ameen.

 

 

yeh mubashar luqma hein. yeh ruk ruk ker tajzia kerte hein, jaise inke gale mein luqma phansa ho. aap samajhte honge ke tajziakaari bara asan kam hai, koi bhi kerle. aisi baat nahin. mushkil masghala he. takleefde bhi. is baat ka andaza mubashar sahab ke chehre se lagaya ja sakta he, jab woh tazjia ker rehe hon. woh lechari, woh bezari, woh larkharati huwi awaz. kabhi kabhar itni shidat se hichkichate hen ke lagta hai abhi dam tor jayenge. magr bare hosle wale hen, tajzia keri jate hen.

yeh shokh aur chanchal libaas ke bhi shokeen hen. dekhne men dalaal lagte hen. kuch log ilzam lagate hen ke ye tajzion ki hi dalaali kerte hen. kher, tajziadalaali ke bare men tau kuch nahin kaha jasakta, albatta aisa jora pehen ker inhe shayid kanjaron ki shadi men bhi na ghusne diya jaye.

ye kharri baat ke bohut shaukeen hen, magr inki ane wali naslon ke liye behtar hoga agr ye kum khatarnak pesha apnaa len. ameen.

 

yeh heraan rasheed hen. kuch saal pehle tak ye lakshmi chowk ke khusron ke guru hua kerte the, phir kuch khusron ne inke khilaf baghawat ki, maara peeta aur dhakel ker nikal diya. ab inhon ne daarhi rakh li he aur imran khan ko apna guru maan liya hai. unki perokaari kerte hen. unki haye men haye bharte hen.

inko tazjiye ke liye bulaya nahi jata, ye khudi pohnch jate hen, darwaze ke bahr beth jate hen, taliaan maar ker taane dene lagte hen, ke mujhe andr aa ker tazjia kerne dau nahin tau chummi le lungi, ameen.

The Liberal Fascist Pages – The Problem of Religion in the Public Sphere

Let’s take a moment to assess the life of your average mosque goer. Since we don’t have a word for your average mosque goer we’ll just call him a mosquito. Now the mosquito, after a hard day of beating his wife and shouting at his children, looks to unwind in the afternoons by hanging out at his preferred social institution, the mosque. Here, his belligerent facial here and body odour are a source of respect, not ridicule. Here, away from the things he does not understand, like women and the nominal rate of interest, he feels safe.

Bzz, bzz he goes around with his sandals in his hands, muttering strange syllables in a language he does not understand, looking for a place to sit down cross-legged on the floor and intent on hearing sermons glorifying his hermit like existence while his posterior develops a dull, rhythmic ache, like a migraine of the ass.

This is an emotional and intellectual cul de sac. Liberal doctrine dictates a certain amount of civic responsibility in exchange for personal freedom. The mosquito, instead of going out and embracing his fellow men sits there on the floor all day embracing his knees. He eschews civic duties in favour of personal gratification, ignores the community in his selfish pursuit of religious fulfillment. For a measly eternity in the after life he forgets all about his sixty expected years of material existence on this earth.

This is unacceptable, but we cannot punish someone for being greedy.

We can however punish people for causing public nuisance. Consider Friday afternoons, which are to mosquitos what Saturday nights are to the rest of us. All shops are forced to close on a Jummah break, offices are emptied out, classes interrupted, roads completely clogged, it’s like everything comes to a standstill. In a country where employees normally show up to work at 11:59, letting them off at 12:00 defeats the purpose of making it a working day to begin with. Moreover, people leaving for the Friday break normally come back on Monday. That is not a break. That is a fucking vacation.

That is precisely the problem of religion in the public sphere. It affects productivity.

We feel that religion, like sex, is a private matter that should be conducted behind closed doors, at night, with the music turned up loud.

This is something the mosquito must be taught for the good of his own good and for the goods of other people’s goods. It’s no good letting people have individual liberties if they just use them to become voluntary slaves.

Besides, these places for religious congregations lead to dangerous things, like danger, and stashes of illegal ammunitions. Not all mosquitoes are bad people, however. Some of them have died and can no longer be referred to in the present tense.

The Erection Commission of Pakistan

The Erection Commission of Pakistan has been busy, of late, preparing for the general erections in 2013. In the ongoing process to expedite the resolution of erection problems, all executive authorities in the federation are bound to assist the Erection Commissioner in the timely discharge of his functions.

The Erection Commission is committed to the idea of free and fair erections, in which participation is both voluntary and rewarding, and in which provincial erections are just as rigidly carried out as national ones. They hope to improve their performance from the 2008 erections which seemed limp in comparison to 2002, which they argue, only went smoothly because they were conducted under a military dicktaker. An accusation that would mean these erections violated the constitution.

“The 2008 erections were the hardest we’ve had to deal with,” said a spokesperson for the commission, citing the volatile bra & girder situation. These erections saw the PPP come first and the PML-N come from behind to secure a place in the coalition. The latter were disappointed however, having made many premature ejaculations, that they could only arouse conservative elements in Punjab.

The PTI refused to contest these erections citing lack of foreplay from the presiding authority, but detractors insisted they were simply impotent. Imran Khan has since added more erection hardened veterans to his party.

“We promise you that the next ones will be the cleanest we’ve ever had,” the spokesperson continued, concluding that the military should never interfere with civilian erections. The length of these erections remains a question, as does the timing, as most parties would like to wait for the summer.

The post-erection period is also one of great importance as any lack in planning can create a real mess. A strong erectoral system must be prepared to process complaints arising during the erection process, as failure to rapidly resolve erection complaints can lead to frustration. Also, since the results of erections are often disputed, with claimants exaggerating performance, an Erection Tribunal was formed to deal with post-erection disputes.

The Tribunal has made two suggestions for the pre-erection period; improving basic erection mechanisms and making sure the erection process is transparent and visible for all to see.

PS. dear Pakistani brothers and sisters. Your friend Iblees has registered his vote. Have you? Don’t be a scrote, vote!

A Gastrocentric Evaluation of the Problems of Painful Excretion in Pakistan – an Op-ed

There are certain groups of people who will endeavour, on a daily basis, to explain to you what the fundamental problem with this country is. Using catchy titles they will goad you into believing their articles offer the best and most insightful perspective on whatever is transpiring on a national level. This is another such piece.

The fundamental problem with this country is that there are too many Op-eds. If Pakistan were a math problem, we would now have an infinite amount of proposed solutions to it, which is the same as having no solution at all, as anything divided by infinity is zero.

It is a medically proven fact that Op-eds give people ulcers. What happened to the good old days when somebody wearing a uniform told you how things were, instead of people with no credible authority telling you how they aren’t. You can blame democracy. I do.

Bad things only happen so that columnists may write Op-eds about them. Before the advent of newspapers there were no terrorists, no sectarian divide, nothing was on the brink, nobody was at a crossroads; the insidious Op-ed writers have invented all these things to scare us under our beds, like parents who tell their children ghost stories because they don’t want them wandering around in the dark lest they flip the light switch at an inappropriate time.

Below, I will list some of the major culprits of Op-edism.

Progressives/Liberals. By far the biggest offenders. They will start a piece off by asking questions of conventional and conservative wisdom. They will then answer these questions with more questions, and those more questions with vague, confusing statements that might as well have been questions. Once they have questioned everything, they will forget what they had started to write about, throw in a paragraph criticizing the military and conclude with a random quotation from a prominent liberal thinker. Like Noam Chomsky. Or Yoda.

To them I say: much disturbance in the force there is. Take a Xanax and calm down you must.

Faujis. Of course, every retired army man has to write a rebuttal defending the military. These poor people are forced into it you see, it is one of the conditions of their pension. Write ten or more rebuttals against progressive liberal pieces.

If the person retired as a Major, he will normally not bring up any of the wars the army is supposed to have fought against the enemy. If he retired a Colonel, he will mention two wars, 1947 and 1965, however he does not have clearance to talk about the 1971 fiasco. That can only be brought up by a General, who also has permission to talk about the more successful (compared to ours) military campaigns of history, like Napolean’s disastrous invasion of Russia.

To them I say: just because you wore the same khaki trousers for thirty years doesn’t mean you know any more about this mess than your average sanitation worker and anyway, forget about these liberal upstarts, go play some golf in that hundred acre backyard of yours.

Sometimes a Civil Servant will desire to see his name attached to an Op-ed, usually criticizing the same establishment that affords him the luxury to write Op-eds while on the job. If the officer is of a high enough grade, say 20 or above, he will have an Op-ed written for him. He will be pleasantly surprised by his own powers of expression when he reads it one afternoon and will decide that he simply must write more often.

Grades 19 and lower must deign to write their own Op-eds, these will usually bemoan the legion of audit objections thrown their way on a daily basis.

To them I say: dear pencil pushers, if you’re out of pencils, push other things, push rulers, paper weights, push each other down the stairs, don’t log onto that computer, don’t write that Op-ed. Cease, desist, you get off at 3 anyway, go home and annoy the kids or something.

The fresh university graduate will often turn his eager faculties of perception to solving all the problems of Pakistan. All of them, in one 800 word article. This is the intellectual equivalent of an ant trying to take down an extremely well fed sumo wrestler. The ant is squashed to death obviously but will remain obstinate that it could’ve won had it just been given another chance.

To them I say: shine on you crazy diamonds.

Social workers. I like social workers. Despite all the upheavel and soul shattering chaos taking place in the world around them, they will sit down very calmly in front of their donation funded laptops, sip on their donation funded latte and write about their donation funded concerns.

The rate of schooling for the second child in a family has gone down across the country. It doesn’t matter if it’s elder sibling was blown to pretzel shaped chunks last week making it the first child now or that it’s dying of dengue, the rate of schooling for the second child in a family has gone down and people need to donate generously to an NGO to redress this situation.

To them I say: keep writing, you need the publicity to fund that new espresso machine at the office, it’s for a good cause.

Then there’s my favourite. The economist. The economist must explain in thousands of words what can be said in four: things have gotten expensive. He must drone on about consumer price index and interest rates and the size of the central bank’s financial phallus and he must refer to statistics and figures because it is a mutually beneficial arrangement; the statistician churns out reports and the economist writes articles based upon them, it’s like a wrestling tag team, only these two don’t wear tights and high five each other, not in public anyway.

He will use phrases like “75% of this country is almost 3/4 of the population” and “the real rate of interest is expected to rise by the end of the month although it could also fall or stay the same”.

To them I say: I’ve got an index for you, an index finger right in your eye. Ouch.

Academics. The academics feel the need to reduce everything to the simplest, most basic terms. The world is black and white for them, not only because they are colour blind, but because their ‘theory’ can fit everything neatly into binaries. They will not refer to people as people, but as a class, a sect, an ethnicity, a waistsize; popular phrases from academic Op-eds include “the struggle to fit into your pants after the age of forty is a class based struggle” or that “terrorism is brought about by a lack of opium in the diet”.

For academics it doesn’t matter what they’re arguing, just that they are. They will explain why you drive the car that you do, eat at the places that you do, read what you read, vote for whom you vote for and why you will no doubt disagree with their perfect summing up of your existence. Because you are a jerk.

To them I say: why waste your time writing Op-eds? Write books. They pay more, you can assign them to your own students and guarantee an audience.

Then there’s lawyers. They feel the need to opine on legal matters and since all matters can be argued to have underlying issues of legality, this unfortunately gives them limitless opportunities to write in. Their Op-eds are easily identified by their frequent use of legal jargon, like ‘Hideous Corpus‘ and ‘Ultra Virus‘, and their propensity for beginning their sentences with ‘Objection!’.

To them I say: I do not trust you to give your opinions away for free. I do not even trust you to give them away for a charge. Yes, there’s a theme developing here. I do not trust you. So don’t say things to me, things you say to me are like the suspiciously smooth tear on the inside pocket of my Kameez that I notice when I can’t find my wallet anywhere even though I could’ve sworn I had it with me that morning; yes that analogy sort of got away from me.

Finally, the journalists. It is in the nature of this beast to write Op-eds; you don’t teach a lion how to hunt, you don’t teach a rabbit how to burrow a hole and you certainly don’t teach a cow how to moo. Or wait, do you? I guess baby cows could learn from hearing their mothers moo. But then how did the first cow moo, now where’s investigative journalism when you need it?

To them I say: don’t pretend to sit there and tell me the truth, you’re not interested in the truth, you’re interested in making money or making sales or making a career or making a career making money making sales making my mind up for me…stop it! Stop making things up. Do your jobs, report, then go away. Let me draw my own conclusions. I like drawing.

5:00 AM Poetry

Because they shifted our BNU campus from the city to the boondocks. Tarogil, Raiwind Road to be exact.

Ding ding ding, did somebody order a Tarogil rap? 

This shit is so far away you need ten people to find it on a map

I want to strap myself to the seat and go to sleep, every time I leave home

But I can’t, gotta keep, from falling in a ditch and killing a gnome

Foam! It literally takes such a preposterous amount of time

I could rewrite War and Peace and make every sentence rhyme

Sitting here, counting dimes, because I’m running out of gas

There’s agony in my knees and there’s blisters on my ass 

 

Up on the farthest hill

How do I get to Tarogil?

Oh oh

Which way do I turn

How much more rubber do I burn?

 

Oh God! When I left my place, I swear I’d gotten a shave

Now there’s a perm on my face like I just crawled out of a cave

Mom called me the other day, said you’ve been gone for over a week

I said the backseat’s piled with laundry and the air’s beginning to reek

Finally, when I get there, this epic journey I make

The guard asks me what I’m doing here, it’s officially semester break

What cretin, what mong, came up with the bright idea

Of moving next to Hong Kong!? I hope he gets gonorrhea 

 

And dies

 

The Liberal Fascist Pages – Do You Have What it Takes to be a Liberal Fascist?

Liberalism is synonymous with hedonism, don’t let the dictionaries fool you, they were all written by us liberals (naturally, since conservatives can’t read or write). A liberal party is literally a party in the fullest sense of the word, nonstop, never ending, like Mardi Gras or Carnival.

All we do is party, we don’t work, we live off the sweat of the conservative brow, we don’t wear much in the way of clothing, we all drink wine, we all ride horses, we all play polo and we always leave a half smoked cigarette in the ashtray.

This, while the poor whom our right wing friends love so much, suffer from hunger pangs and lack of basic utilities. But my bleeding heart conservative friend is not as honest as he seems, he loves the poor because of their poverty. It is in his interest to keep them poor, that is after all his popular support, likewise he loves the average man, of average intellect and average opinions, because if he were better than average, my conservative friend would have a hard time convincing him of anything.

We liberals hate the poor and the mediocre, we do not want people to be poor, we are the enemies of poverty and want it to dissappear from the world. Likewise, we detest the man in the street. I mean, what’s he doing in the street anyway? It’s suspicious behaviour. Also, why is he not in a four-wheel drive or on his own private lawn? The street is not a nice place to be. We don’t want him there, he is likely to get run over, or fined for impeding traffic (or our horses).

In short, we are too principled for these right wing walruses and their duplicitous attempts at philanthropy.

Now you may wonder, how will you know if you have the moral fiber to become a liberal and take a tough stance on the extermination of poverty and mediocrity? Well here is an easy check list:

Can you think yourself into a migraine?
Do you often find yourself on the wrong end of Pakistani law?
Do you feel alienated and bored at work, at college, in school?
Do you take any mind altering substances?
Do you often doubt yourself…on second thought forget that one

If you checked more than one of the above, then you have liberal blood and are ready to party.

Here is another checklist to mark for conservative tendencies:

Do you often sit alone drooling from the mouth?
Do you get easily confused by big words?
Do you have to stop and ask for directions even when you’re not going anywhere?
Do you have a blemish on your forehead?
Do you eat lots of dates and sweets?
Do you obsessively wash your hands and feet five times a day?

If you checked more than two of the above than you are lying and are just a liberal trying to pass off as a conservative. If you’re still confused about what you had to do and have marked a tick somewhere in the middle of this sentence, congratulations you are a true conservative, some orderlies will be with you to provide assistance shortly.

The Liberal Fascist Pages – Agenda

Being a liberal I never walk around on my own feet, I always ride a horse, even to the toilet. It is something the white man left as a colonial legacy, gong to the toilet. Our conservative friends do not know what a toilet is, they believe in tradition and sitting over ditches in open fields, they do not believe in toilets.

It is one of the declared aims of the liberal fascist party to make everyone in this country use toilets. The first thing to do of course would be to have toilets to use. That means building a public lavatory for every ten or so people in the population. That is a lot of toilets. But hygiene must never be sacrificed in the name of progress, what good is making flyovers when they will just be urinated upon because there are not enough toilets? That is short-sighted conservative logic.

All these high rise buildings will be turned into low ceilinged washrooms where mothers can take their children to relieve themselves without fear of attack by wild animals or getting crushed under the wheels of a train.

When we say children of course, we mean a reasonable amount of them, like one. One children is all the children couples will be allowed to have under the liberal fascist rule. Conservatives think that having children is some kind of perverse competition, that the more you have the bigger prize you will get. They are wrong.

There is no competition, and the only prize is that they get to spend half their life earnings on circumcisions.

Conservatives rear so many children they have a hard time thinking of original names, that’s why every second and third person in this country is called Ali. Most conservative members have at least three household members called Ali, one called Hassan and all of them may answer to Muhammad. If you are like me you have fourteen cousins called Ali and you find only one of them bearable.

This situation is not tenable. The liberal fascist party will give one pregnancy coupon and one name, a decent sensible name like Gaston or Bhagavateeprasad, until all the Ali’s disappear from this country.

This is for the conservative’s own good, even though that is something undesirable in the liberal fascist manifesto, but when our horses can’t take a single stride without stepping on conservative progeny, enough is enough.

Bhai Log

Har achi takhleeq ki tarha, is film ka aghaz bhi Shafqat Cheema Sahab se hota hai. Woh kisi Yahoodi madrassay mein dars de rahay hotay hein; ke aik mulk bana tha kisi zamanay mein Pakistan ke naam se, tab wahan chand aik Musalman the, aj woh mulk Islam ka qila ban chuka hai, jisko hamay taurna parayga. Film hai, sachai per mabni nahin, aisi baaton ka bura na manayega.

Pakistan ko taurne ki yeh karvaai shuro hoti hai ‘roshnion ke shehr’, Karachi se. Sitam zareefi yeh hai ke roshnion ke shehr mein aksar das, das ghente bijli nahin hoti. Andhera hota hai. Kheir, na ho roshni, Cheema Sahab ko is se kya.

Is ke baad screen per tashreef laate hein television aur film ke mayanaz fankaar, Nadeem Baig. Nadeem is film mein aik baap ka kirdar ada kerte hein, kyunke ab unki yehi kirdar ada kerne ki umer hai. Unke sath kuch zyati ye hui ke jab unki hero ka kirdar ada kerne ki umer thi, tau tab bhi unko baap ke kirdar hi diye jatay thay. Unke chehre per jhurian hi itni theen.

Darasal woh umer mein jaldi baray hogaye. Nihatti jawani mein hi boorhay hogaye, kisi ko pata bhi nahin chalne diya. Aik saal solveen salgirah manayi aur aglay saal chalisveen. Aik saal woh apni Ammi Jaan se adhi umer ke the, aur aglay saal un se do teen mah baray hogaye. Gher walay sakht pareshan huwe, lekin kheir, Cheema Sahab ko unki pareshani se kya.

Nadeem ko aik mazhabi qism ka badmaash dikhaya gya hai, jo logon ko qatal bhi kerta hai aur unki Namaaz-e-Janazah bhi khudi parha deta hai. Aise badmaash se behtar aur kya hosakta hai, jo maar ker apki rooh ki bakhshish ke liye Inna Lillah bhi parh dalay. Nadeem, jis ke kirdar ka naam Abba Bhai hai, ka muqabla karachi shehr mein sirf aik aur badmaash ker sekta hai. Javed Sheikh.

Javed Sheikh, urf Aslam Bhai, itna mazhabi badmaash nahin. Woh sirf logon ko qatal kerta hai. Yeh dekhne bhi nahin rukta ke woh mar gaye hein ya sirf shadeed zakhmi hein. Innah Lillah parhna tau door ki baat, woh tau seedhe moonh kisi ko jawab nahin deta. Kuch kasoor is mein Javed Sheikh ke moonh ka bhi hai, jo ke shayid seedha hai bhi nahin. Aisay bud-ikhlaq badmaashon se tau Allah hi bachaye. Gher mein aker balatkar bhi ker dete hein, aur yeh bhi nahin poochte ke Ammi ki sehat kaisi hai? Rano ki shadi hogayi? Wagheira.

Tau aik tameezdar aur aik badtameez badmaash; yeh kahani kuch Mirat-ul-Uroos se milti hai, in donon kau Akbari aur Asghari kehna beja na hoga. Kheir, Cheema Sahab ko Mirat-ul-Uroos se kya.

Asal mein in donon bhai logon ne Karachi shehr ki ma’ashi aur syaasi zindagi apni muthi mein band ker rakhi hoti hai. Is baat se Lachoo nami aik shareef aur roshan khyal admi ka dil sarta hai. Kyun ke woh haq aur insaaf ki syasat kerna chahta hai aur yeh bhatta vasool kerne walay badmaash har baar uska patta kaat lete hein.

Darasal Lachoo tash mein kabhi bhi acha nahin tha. School mein apne Master se joowe mein haara kerta tha, itna haara kerta tha ke Master ne uska gher hi khareed liya aur uski maan se shadi kerke us mein rehne laga. Lehaza Lachoo ko gher chorna para, apni zindagi khud banani pari, ustaadon aur badmaashon se door. Ab Lachoo ameer hai, izzatdar hai, per taash mein usi fazeelat se harta hai. Kheir, bhala Cheema Sahab ko patton se kya.

Tau han, Lachoo in donon ki taaqat torne ke liye in ko apas mein larvane ki chaal chalta hai. Nadeem, yani Abba Bhai, yani Asghari, ke dayen haath ke admi ko marva deta hai, yeh Lachoo ki nadani thi, kyunke Nadeem apne saray kaam bayen hath se kerta hai, jis hath ka admi uska moon bola beta, Moammar Rana, hota hai.

Momi is vardaat ke forun baad aik karkhane mein ja ker kuch logon ko pheinti lagata he. Is liye nahin, ke yeh jaan paye ke qatal kis ne keraya, bus waisay hi, ghussa utaarne ke vaaste. Is film mein Momi ko bohut ghussa ata hai, ghundon per, apni behen per, Saima per, sab ko pheinti lagata hai. Mujhe tau der lag raha tha kahin screen se utar ker mujhe bhi na pheinti laga de. Lekin cinema hall mein andhera tha, shayid mein nazar na aya hoon.

Is doraan Shamoon Abbasi (Inspector Nadira ya Nagra, pata nahin, in mein se aik zaroor hoga) asli qaatil ke peeche bhaag raha hota hai. Kyunke asli qaatil ka vazan kisi gainday se kam nahin tha, is liye Shamoon Abbasi ko zyada nahin bhagna parta. Phir jab woh qatil ko pakar leta hai, tau usko goli maar ker poochta hai ke tumhe yeh qatal kerne ka hukam kis ne diya, mere khyal mein ager ye sawal goli maarne se pehle ker liya jata tau shayid jawab mil pata aur usi waqt jhagra khatam hojata, Nadeem aur Javed Sheikh ko teen ghente khajal na hona parta, lekin mujhe kya pata, mein konsa inspector hoon.

Is qatal ka ilzam Javed Sheikh, urf Aslam Bhai, urf Akbari, urf thori per garhay wala maindak, per ata hai. Dono bhai logon mein jang chir jati hai. Is jang ke duran Nadeem ki moonh boli beti (Momi ki behen) aur Javed Sheikh ka saga beta apas mein lafantrian shuro kerdete hein. Unhon ne socha hoga moqa acha hai, hamaray baap shehr ke sab se baray ghunday hein, apas mein jang ker rehay hein, kisi ko kya pata chalay ga hum kaun hein.

Is bhool mein woh pakray jatay hein. Juda kerdiye jaatein hein. Momi apni behen ko chapeiren kerata hai. Javed Sheikh ka bhi aik moon bola beta hota hai, Faizu, yani Babar Ali, lekin Faizu uske sage bete ko chaperein nahin kerata. Balkay utla use bhaga lejata hai, Momi ki behen ke sath, aur sumundar ke kinare aik kamra le deta hai jahan woh shadi kera ker suhaag raat manaatay hein. Is duran Babar Ali bahir gari mein dau chaukidaaron ke sath sota hai. Kyunke is suhani raat mein akele kisi ko nahin sona chahiye.

Kheir, Cheema Sahab ko sonay jagnay se kya.

Lachoo ko kisi tarha is baat ka ilham hojata hai aur woh apne bete ko bhej ker in dono premion ko marva deta hai. Babar Ali ko bhi golian lagti hein, lekin usko pehle bhi kayi filmon mein golian lag chuki hein, is liye woh ghabrata nahin, bach jata hai.

Albatta, zyada deir ke liye nahin. Momi Rana samajhta hai ke Babar Ali ne kisi tarha un dono premion ka qatal kerke apne aap ko athara bees golian, shak se bachne ke liye maar daleen. Woh Faizu ko dhoond leta hai aur usko phir se athara bees golian maar deta hai. Is baar Babar Ali nahin bach pata, itni golian usne pehle kisi film mein nahin khayin. Itni tau aadmi Disprin ki golian khalay tau shayid tab bhi jaata rahay, yeh tau phir bandooq ki theen.

Kheir, Cheema Sahab ko golian khane se kya.

Momi ko Shamoon Abbasi moqa-e-vardaat per giraftar kerne aa pohunchta hai, lekin Saima, jo khud bhattay ka dhandaa kerti hai, Momi ko bacha leti hai kyunke ‘woh chikna hai’. Kuch deir baad Saima sharab ke nashay mein mubtala ho ker Momi ke ird gird nachna shuro kerdeti hai, lekin chikne ko ye harkat pasand nahin ati. Woh akhir ikhlaq ka buland admi hai, sirf logon ko maarta hai, peet ta hai, qatal kerta hai, is ka yeh matlab tau nahin ke woh gunaah bhi kerne lag paray.

Lehaza Momi us ko bhi rakh ker chapeir kera deta hai. Is waqt tamashbeen, yani ke mein, Shamoon Abbassi ke liye bura mehsoos kerne lag parte hein, kyun uske liyay abhi tak koi heroine aaker nahin nachi hoti. Lehaza filmstar Noor ko aik sahafi ka kirdar de ker forun nachvaa liya jata hai. Us ka naach khatam hone per Shamoon Abbassi usko chapeir nahin kerata, galay laga leta hai. Akhir woh Momi jaisay buland ikhlaq ka admi thori hai, qanoon ka hamayati kutta hai, saala. Lekin kheir, Cheema Sahab ko kutton aur saalon se kya.

Ab is waqt Nadeem aur Javed Sheikh ke takrao ko rokne ki koi soorat nazar nahin arehi hoti. Lekin namumqin ko mumqin bana dena, yehi tau Shafqat Cheema Sahab ka kaam hai. Yaad rahay, ke chaand per pehla admi Cheema Sahab ne hi bheja tha, film Qurbani mein aik lafentere ko kasun maar ke; idhr bhi woh kuch isi tarhe ka chamatkar dikhate hein, woh aaker sab ke saamne apne pol khol dete hein.

Cheekhte hein, dhaarte hein, ke mein Yahoodi hoon, Pakistan tabah kerne aya hoon, Musalmanon kau masalne aya hoon, Israel aur America ki sazishon per amal kerne aya hoon; phir Cheema Sahab is tarhe pheinti khatay hein jaisay sawab ka kam ho. Kyunke Nadeem aur Javed Sheikh unhe mulk dushman samajh ker lataarna shuro kerdete hein, akhir Yahoodi hi mulk dushman hosakta hai, Musalman chahay badmash ho, qatil ho, chaval ho…acha hota hai, neik hota hai, jannati hota hai. Dozakh sirf Yahood-o-Nasara ke liye bani hai.

Kheir, chorein in baaton ko, Cheema Sahab ko dozakh se kya.