Gone Are Those Days Sweetie

Lock the door, walk up the roof, enjoy the elctricitylessness in a nuclear power state. Look at the clear sky and go back in time, for this is the only safe and secure transaction of your lifestyle now. Enjoy the redefined joys.

What happened to the days we left behind? Why would anyone walk back in the past in today’s world where it is only about the future? When going out shopping to Hyatabad (Near Afghan border,N.W.F.P) was considered a family picnic, the days when going for Jumma prayers at the Lal Masjid was considered to be a good muslim act, the days when sitting at a road side Khokha was considered to be safe and fun among your friends, the days when going out for a late night walk was amazing both in terms of weather and watching your neighborhood girls, the days when sitting home and watching Nilam Ghar was a treat forced by the parents when you wanted to watch Manimal on NTM. Sweetie, those days are gone.

Starting from social security to personal life styles, everything seems to have changed in this high paced world. What used to be an era of descent religiousness has turned to be a nightmare of conflict. Nothing just seems to be enough for us and them. The desire for more is just too much and keeps on inncreasing. The desire to be the Wadda Sahib seems to have no end. The desire to individually and collectively be a conqueror just doesn’t fade. I walk back in time and see how good things were, how pleasant it was and now how inexpressible it has become. Walking back in time is not at times wise but the only solution too.

Islamabad to begin with. Every person or family of Islamabad has once been to either Rashakai or Hyatabad to do some smuggling shopping, so has mine. We never thought it was smuggling till the Attock Customs check Post became visible to the eye. Those were the days when Ghada Gari’s on the borders transported Sony televisions and Chinese silk while they must be busy now in the contrary now. Those were the days when any child was grabbed to join this 2 hour fun ride, have some famous chappal kabob’s and return home by the Sunday eve. I remember the day when I first visited Hyatabad, about 70 Km short of the Torkham border joining NWFP and Afghanistan. Hyatabad while geography to the finest hospitable individuals also is a home to the finest drugs the region has to offer. The wall separating the Ilaka Ghair (Tribal Areas) and the tin roof shopping arcade of Karkhana Bazar was home to the addicts of time. For them the place had to offer many of the highs. Today when I think of going for a short visit to even Peshawar, the provincial capital, it is only then I realize the War on Terror media continuously commercializes and educates on. Thinking of going to Hyatabad now would be either an act of Jihad or sheer attempt of bravery.

Maulana Abdullah in Islamabad, the controversial political imam of Lal Masjid – as I remember, his sermons used to be brightly political than the breaking news of today TV channels. His hate for the leaders of yesterday (fortunately or unfortunately even today’s) is still embedded in my mind. Still, it used to fulfill both, a desire for realty entertainment and a religious obligation under one roof.
People used to gather from all walks of life to attend the Lal Masjid Jumma prayers. Children; many of them learned their initial prayers while walking the aisles of this mosque. This was the time when Faisal Mosque was yet to surface the skyline of Islamabad. This was the time when honest difference of opinion among the Good Muslims and Bad Muslims was valued. Today, walking to the Lal Masjid not only hinders with its white color but also makes you think if you would be stalked by one of the agencies.

Moving to Karachi, home of Altaf Bhai and the brotherhood not seen. Who wants to miss the sufficiently polluted Nihari of Burns Road when you are in the Metropole area. This Nihari and the kabobs with active ingredients of dust, diesel smoke and all kitanoo friendly family have to offer the best taste in the world. It was then that one used to eat more than a mouthful without the hint of a thought of either getting diarrhea or HEP. The smell of food, the out of oven naan’s and the water rinsed plates that came out of the ‘dish washer’ had everything a perfect meal at Jason’s couldn’t offer today. When I plan to go out to a road side restaurant today, either I hear saying my mom at the back “Haalat theek nahi hai, it’s better to eat home�. I feel did the Afghan mothers used to say something similar to their children in the 70’s? Like any other Pakistani boy, who considers himself a lot more intelligent and experienced than his parents, I still walk out for the restaurant to have some road side dhaba dinner. While I am being served with the garma garam food in the sweaty summer, a nearby soda seller shoots the bottle cap to target a star in a clear sky. He aims high, a lesson for our politicians to learn from. Hearing that sound after a long time doesn’t surprise me, rather suppresses me. I feel that Allah is hinting me that I should have listened to my mother. The patakha makes me feel that I am being trailed towards a bigger dhamaka maybe – while my heart beats a bit faster than usual, I eat my food faster too and decide to return home – I don’t deny death, It’s just that I want to be found after being dead.

Looking for a little romance? Lahore is the Pakistani Sin City. You name it, you will get it. The city that truly never sleeps and never lets anyone have an empty stomach. Walking out on the empty streets may have been possible a while back. Interior Lahore nourishes an environment of security and a sense of all being a family. It was then that when you sprained your ankle, the entire mohalla would come to see you. It was then that your 5 minute tonsil operation would trigger a well being alarm in the vicinity. It was then that when you didn’t return from school on time meant you just walked to your aunts. Looking for a little romance today? Quit the idea, grab a movie and a bag of pop corns and treat yourself with a DVD player at home.

In the little years that I have been maturely exposed to the situation I and every other Pakistani is living in, I am forced to ask – What went wrong? Why us? For how long?
The answers offer simplicity and complexity – turns which side of the prism you’re on. The answers are really dependent on how heavy your pocket is and how negligent you are towards the happenings around you. I get the answers when I link the events. While Pakistan’s creation is based on an ideology and sacrifices through strong leadership – all three are missing today; Ideology, Sacrifice, Leadership. Since the birth, we lost the founder and crawled our way to the 21st century with a partial vision or rather no vision. Our sense of sacrifice just got dissolved in the political crunches and our leadership just kept changing the uniform and adding stars on their shoulders. We either got shot in the back or exploded in the mango crate. Who cares?
Every time it was us who lost the battle economically and morally. Our poor got poorer with time; our rich got filthy rich with time and conclusively we kept on loosing ourselves in the bigger picture and it is today we’re both a failed state and in a failed state.

At the stage that we are in, morally, with pardon to a limited minority, have we lost thy sense of right and wrong? Good and bad? Black and white? Reality doesn’t have grey.
It's the fall of your heart, when you’re wearing the crown. We all played a part, in tearing it down…

Many countries have concluded to say that the hardship days are long gone and now they’re ready to rock n roll – Unfortunately for us, we can sit back and relax on the couch and just wait blindly for such a day. If we live to see it. For us the hardship just doesn’t seem to have an end. For us the hardships just keep on increasing. Our people live in an environment of social and financial fear – for we probably went bankrupt, financially and morally ages ago. First the victims of British colonialism and then became the feudal pets, we continue to be raped politically and can just look forward to Real Independence soon.

For we all need to rise and shine and as they say, it’s never too late. Let us all wake up to see a better tomorrow for ourselves and our young ones. Let us all wake up to see the good old days, the ones that have long gone. Let us all wake up to our individual responsibilities.