On the Murder of Salman Taseer

most of the time, i write blogs because they give me a chance to show how smart i am, to validate my intellect amongst a handful of people who read them. some days, they even make me think that i am a 'great' person who is affecting change.

that's bullshit. one blog post doesn't change shit.

but perhaps a consistent, constant and clear stream of conscience-based ideas can, over a great length of time, get people to start thinking differently.

even then, change doesn't come about through thoughts - its when those thoughts become actions that we get to see change.

but consistency is a fickle monster to tame.

when i logged on this morning, the chattering clouds were awash with the flood of salman taseer's murder.

and many of us, petrified by the killing of someone who held the same vices as us chose to don the cloak of sanctimony, and condemned the heinous acts of those who were celebrating this death.

and in doing so, we all willingly waded into the already rancid cesspool of contradictions which is our society.

for starters, celebrating deaths is a pretty shitty act.

but if we start thinking that it is a refuge only taken by the stone-age , FATA-living, honor-killing, beard-measuring fundamentalists, we need to think again.

for starters, one of the reportedly eight fan pages of taseer's killers had over a 100 fans. when i clicked through their profiles, they were also fans of stuff like Enrique Iglesias, Family Guy, 300, Coke Studio, the Godfather.

a prominent ahmed qureshi-clone blogger, dan qayyum, constantly tweeted that it was time to take out all the liberal extremist cunts. his previous tweets had been about how roy hodgson wasn't good enough his beloved liverpool.

see the contradictions here?

unfortunately, its not like those of us who stood under the banner of liberal or humanist values have never done the exact same.

honestly, did you go around feeling horrified when people celebrated the death of baitullah mehsud? or have you been one of the many people who tweeted or facebook statused or whatever that it is horrid to speak ill of the dead, before unleashing a tirade against the still-dead zia ul haq for his murderous policies?

i don't want to speak of ill of governor taseer, but i also don't want his death to be a moment where we whitewash the past.

his death was barbaric, and there is no denying that.

but if we feel sick, its also because we fear that we are going to be killed too. not because of how we feel for asia bibi, because if we truly cared we would have taken to the streets a long time ago.

but because like the deceased governor, we enjoyed the acts our state holds illegal, and like the governor we could enjoy them because of the power we wield.

the problem with pakistan is extremism, but let's not fool ourselves that its only one side that's extreme. we keep running further to the side of intolerance, we keep getting more and more bigoted. and then we tell ourselves that only the other side is to blame.

to be honest, i can't say much for the future of pakistan etc, because what is the point of that debate? we can't even have a moment of understanding anything amongst ourselves. we can't even look into our own contradictions in an honest way.

i am not trying to hold onto my usual blogging alter-ego of being holier than thou. and i am frankly sickened by all that has developed today. but somewhere, i can also see that i am not sickened because of my principles but because of my fears.  and i'm not alone here.

when we act out of fear, we act in a fucked up way. the guard who shot taseer knew deep inside that he wasn't doing so for the sake of the Prophet - he knew he could just use that as a cover up. he did so because he feared the kind of pakistan where salman taseer could fulfil his ideals. he was afraid.

and now we are just as afraid, because we fear a pakistan where malik qadri's ideals are going to get fulfilled.

i want to write something authoritative like 'we must not act out of fear' but i know that's me trying to act all cool and brave. the reality is that i am not sure i can start expunging such deep seated fears from my self. i can't really ask you to do the same.

[edit: i have removed the following lines  "he took a stand yes, but in light of all his other stands, it was more in line with his constant stance of needling the provincial government of the PML-N rather than his own belief in the ultimacy of human rights." because as @mypplwannajump and @sisyphusgrey point out, its unfair to reduce his stance to just that. fair point in my view. i would still implore against letting our anger blur our vision of the past, but still the governor had a strong principled background on this issue.]

Stabbing Lions in the Skull is the path to Salvation

look at this picture.

no really, take a look at it.

are you suppressing a giggle, or perhaps recalling the awesome article on cracked.com that showcased this once?

this picture, and i am not mincing my words here, explains why the burqa/hijab and its politics are such a huge issue in our modern world.

no really, take a look at it, and you should see be able to see it.

still don't get it, do you?

let me tell you a story.

there used to be two tribes, one in the east and one in the west.

the men of both tribes would gather every day to perform their rituals. in the east, they would inhale gas. in the west, they would imbibe liquids.

the men of the east said that our faith is in something that can not be seen or measured readily, but can be felt. so our ritual centers around gas, because it is what exemplifies our faith.

the men of the west said that our faith is in something we can see and know and measure, so our rituals are based on liquids.

one day the men in the east realised that the tribes of the west had built big buildings and fancy roads and phones you could touch instead of tap, and it made them very upset.

some of them thought, hey, why not give this liquid idea a try. so with heads filled with up with gases they started to give this liquid thing a shot

but other men of the east got really pissed, so pissed that they started filling themselves up with gas until they blew up. they didn't realise that they were in on the liquid too, because their denial was so powerful.

interestingly, the women of the east had no choice on the matter but to keep up the rituals that had always existed.

one year the tribe in the west started running out of its liquid, and suddenly there was great commotion and despair. some of them shouted that the men in the east had probably finished off all their liquid, siphoning it into their dirty gaseous minds. all hell broke lose, as the tribe vowed to get their liquid back, and to make sure that no gas-guzzling easterner would ever get to sip any liquid until they provided permission.

cue chaos and confusion.

cue, this picture.

why do i keep returning here? well, i had seen this image a few times on the web, and my reactions had ranged from the incredulity of being confronted with pakistanica, to embarrasment at our tackiness, to titlation based on my desire to feel different. but i'd never quite understood it.

then, i visited the british museum, and suddenly i saw this, and it floored me.

to be honest, i actually saw a version of this image where the king was actually stabbing the lion through the skull with a dagger, but even here, you can make out the fight with the lion resulting in a stab wound for the beast.

suddenly, as cracked.com would say, something punched my brain in the face. the sultan rahi poster was not some example of deranged pakistani violence fantasies, or the poster that hate mailers send to PETA.

it made a very strong and obvious point - this image is of a hero.

heroes in all mythologies kill lions to prove their valour. in one image, that poster tells me everything i need to know about who sultan rahi is, and the moral world he inhabits.

now, perhaps it seems like a huge leap to link the persepolis image with the pakistani one as either ends of a tradition, but i have reasons.

you may claim i am simply doing so to root this piece of faux-art onto a venerable tradition. you may even say that the reason i do so is to find a rooting in history for my country and its culture, which suffers from such absurd amnesias in definig its own past.

but i am doing it because it makes sense. it makes sense because of trucks.

truck art has become this symbol and motif of showcasing non-terrorist pakistan.

its this idea that 'we have culture too', although most people who use it do it to add some ethnic flavour to their own ideals. they do it without ever understanding it, but only showcasing it like a circus shows a bearded woman.

infact, if i may say so, truck art is the most exoticized pakistani object after mathira's body.

what makes things interesting is if you try and investiage why trucks in pakistan are decorated the way they are, you find something revelatory.

almost every aspect of truck art, from the way those giant d-shaped crowns are created, to the patterns and motifs inscribed, to the very idea of decoration itself, stems from traditions in islamic art.

essentially, artistic traditions organic to this area and region which have just morphed from buildings and canvases onto truck bodies.

which is why the sultan rahi poster itself fits in with the persian king - both of those are part of certain ideas and traditions.

what is worrying is that i had no idea about any of this.

and i'm not alone here.

we've all found ourselves in the position where we are unsure whether to take gulps of gas or shots of liquid. and by we, i don't mean western-boot licking liberals, i mean all the tribesmen of the east, because when you use a mobile phone to blow up the infidels, well you're using the products of liquid faith.

but as we rushed to bathe ourselve in liquid, we did not consider that perhaps liquid and gas could have a synthesis, or that gas may have something to say about liquid or vice versa. so eager were we to reap the benefits of liquid that we felt the best way forward was to pretend gas never existed.

which is why a 27 year old film graduate had no way of understanding the imagery of a local film, because that whole world view had been replaced a long time ago.

and unfortunately, while the men of the east gave up their traditional forms of dressing and their traditional occupations and thoughts, they could never really let go of the idea of tradition itself. they just reduced it to certain symbols that proved to themselves that they were still a gas.

and so, cue the hijab, cue halal kfc, cue men dressed in jeans and working in investment banks who feel that women who don't cover up are asking to be raped.

in this post 9/11 climate of mosques floating upon grounds of zero and sikhs being thrashed for their turbans and newspaper comics becoming nuclear bombs, we find ourselves in an odd position.

the west doesn't 'hate' us, it just doesn't get us.

and they don't get us because we don't get ourselves. the reason we don't get ourselves is because we don't know what was ours to begin with. like this image.

i'm not trying to make this a pedantic debate about islam and the west, or the perils of modernity, and i am certainly not advocating a return to the stone ages.

what i am trying to say, is that when you and i don't know what sultan rahi is doing stabbing two lions in the head, its not because we were never interested in that lollywood crap to begin with, but because we have no clue how to decode and interpret the symbols that are organic to us.

because somewhere in the past few centuries, we oscillated between trying to buy into modernity and trying to retain our own identity. and in doing so, we made the disastrous decision to ape the liquid drinkers in the areas we needed to, and spurn their logic when their ideas meant our own privilieges would be threatened. that meant that our own traditions and logic and worldviews literally vanished in thin air, leaving us gasping for breath.

and in today's world, where suddenly all of us - from the talib in swat to the student in swarthmore, are finding ourselves like the kawa with the peacock feathers, we have no idea where to turn and what to look at. because what we see, we don't understand.

and if we can't understand our own selves out, no amount of development funds, sympathetic op-eds, well meaning NGOs and facebook protests can save us from our self-inflicted destruction.

Middle Class Canines

it seems strange to base your world view on a music album, but if the album in question is animals, and the band is pink floyd, you can at least premise an argument around this far-fetched concept.

the album consists of three epic songs titled 'pigs' 'dogs' and 'sheep' based loosely on george orwell's animal farm.

i used to listen to this quite regularly while i was a student at a curious university in pakistan.

why was it curious?

well mainly because it seemed to incorporate an evolutionary process within its students that i had not observed elsewhere.

to put it simply, when you joined you had a very high probability of evolving into one of three distinct archetypes - the mullah, the commie and the charsi.

of course, there were those who were unaffected by this process, but those were either day scholars* (non-hostel students), extraordinary variants, scholarship students, or nerds.

*(since day scholars by and large had the rest of the lives and social circles accesible as soon as they left the university, they were less prone to this evolution. the hostelites on the other hand, whose entire universe was the university were a lot more vulnerable)

no one necessarily entered the university as any of the types i mentioned. the existential transformation seemed to strike after a year or two into the four year program, and once the student became hyponotized by one of the three types, it was often irreversible during the entire period at the university.

the transformation would be violent in nature, necessitating a drastic change in outlook, clothing, hygiene and sleeping patterns.

i was myself a fully paid member of one of these variants, and during the time, the vast gulf between each group seemed insurmountable. sure you had friends who crossed over - charsis would often be with commies until they became insufferable, and both commies and mullahs could link up on the moral decadence and decay symbolised by the charsis.

each group reserved infinite scorn and condescention for the others, each was completely committed to their belief, and each group was relentless in its zeal for conversion.

commies would be found arguing loudly over obscure texts which they would reverentially quote. mullahs would often hunt in pairs, forcing people to get up and join them when the azaan rang out. charsis would enter a room on the pretense of asking for a cigarette, and end up questioning entire moral systems while forcing someone to have just one puff.

yet for all their chest-thumping bravado, they were also extremely testy and defensive when questioned over the apparently obvious contradictions inherent to them.

how can someone holding meetings in colonial mansions claim to feel the pain of the proletariat? how can buying expensive foreign made mobile phones be reconciled with the spiritual austerity you preach? how can you claim to be ridding yourself of all pretensions and hypocrisies when you can't even admit that you are addicted to what you just smoked?

in response, the archetype being questioned would eventually shake their head and leave you to your apparent ignorance.

once i graduated, these variants were at first ornaments of my nostalgia.

slowly, as we all started earning and making the salaries our fancy-pants university guaranteed, one would hear of deviancies amongst these archetypes. the charsi who one day broke his family television set and started growing a beard. the commie who decided to take up the corporate job because they wanted to change the system from within. the mullah who decided that he would shave off his beard for his the sake of his promotion, because religion is a private matter.

but i never really understood why we all became those archetypes in the first place.

the epiphany that led to this blog happened last week.

i recently found work as a producer for a tv channel. however, i didn't mention this new job either online or to any of my friends. the reason being that it was for a 24 hour Muslim channel.

i knew i wasn't completely ashamed, and i wasn't exactly proud. i was definitely confused.

then i met perhaps the most intriguing muslims i've ever come across - mohammad sulayman - a convert from st. kitts who works with troubled youth, speaks in an amazing rasta accent, and quotes both the quran and malcom x with liberal abandon. his ethos continues to be 'if i find that there is something in islam i don't agree with, i'll leave this religion.'

the reason i had went to him was because i was doing a story on whether young Muslims in britain are getting radicalised through the internet, and he told me something quite fascinating.

a host of recent headlines grabbing stories - such as the underwear bomber, the times square bomber, the MP stabber - all had protagonists who were not the downtrodden, marginalised, poor muslims from the ghettoes, but rather university educated middle class muslims.

and according to sulayman, they were driven to those acts because of their socio-economic situation. this is how he explained it:

a middle class child is brought up in a culture that places great pressure on achieving a good education, finding a stable and succesful foothold in society, managing to provide and support the family.

but for all these essentially material aims, the middle class provides its children with lofty ideologies as justifications.

do this to be a good person, do this to be rewarded in heaven, do this to live with honor etc. all these things which are essentially subjective and unknowable are sought to be validated through decidely material and objective goals.

when the middle class child, especially a talented or high achieving one, enters university or the workplace, they get a chance to be away from their middle class culture and become exposed to a greater spectrum of ideas and expereiences. and at this point, the chasm between the material aims they strive for, and the ideas that are meant to supplant them, become glaringly obvious.

they become exceedingly frustrated that their entire lives were premised around contradictions and as a reaction, they embrace a certain set of ideals with unwavering ferocity (which as i saw at my alma mater translated into the three archetypes i mentioned above.)

if we return to the pink floyd reference, the middle class child begins to see himself as different from both the pigs above and the sheep below.

and so he starts to growl at the pigs to protect them from the sheep, and then he barks viciously at the sheep to get them to rise from their slumber. he doesn't want to be a pig, but he doesn't want to be a sheep even more.

the problem is that the middle class child never quite realises that he is, at the end of the day, a dog.
now, there is nothing wrong with being a dog.

but if one never realises that fact, they get caught up in a web of frustration. and when they do so their venting can get quite dangerous.

all too often, the middle class vents their vitriol at the excesses of the rich, but when the poor eventually take up arms and respond to their calls, the middle classes are the first to shirk away.

all too often the middle classes decry the illiteracy of the poor, and yet when they are asked to accomodate their needs, they decide to hide elsewhere.

unfortunately, no matter how noble or base the intentions, dogs can't transform themselves to become either pigs or sheep, and neither can a dog save the pigs or the sheep.

it just doesn't work like that.

what does work is shedding your preconcieved ideologies, and accepting those held by others.

what does work is reserving judgement, yet having the guts to call out right from wrong.

what does work is focusing on your own biases, your own failings, your own impotencies before railing at others.

in other words, o children of the middle class, if you want to stop being a dog, start being a human instead.

Whaaa? = The Day After Post Mortem

a few weeks ago, i married someone who does not like facebook, and thus i will not provide any further details about the wedding, or her.

i will reveal something about myself - she is my love and she's like crazy about me.

i will also tell you this about our wedding.

on the first event of the marathon affair, baitullah mehsud 'died'.

on the second event, rehman dakait was killed in an 'encounter.'

when it was time for the third, we kept watching out for Geo to break the news of a death of the no. 1 "two number" of pakistan, live from the Presidency.

good or bad, it didn't happen.

anyways, i had made this video while i was learning how to use video editing. i add this detail because there are some parts i am not sure how well they would be recieved. aesthetically.

anyways make your own conclusions.