So proud of my Country

Note: This is a satire, and any reference made is imaginary!

How many times have you seen people whining about our brilliant homeland? Well, let us prove them wrong! How about we start our travel with travelling in our country? I believe that our country has the best traffic in the world. It is confirmed by ITRRFDO (International Traffic Rules and Regulation Followers in Descending Order) that Pakistan stood on number one globally with a tiny lead over Bangladesh. Rest of the nations had their hats fell down when looking at our ranking; we are on the peak. The experienced chief minister of Sindh put forward an open challenge recently to the world “I challenge any skilled driver from any developed country to come and drive in the roads of Karachi, especially from Ayesha Manzil to Saddar in the evening. My challenge is never based on the Urdu proverb which translates as “every dog is lion in its street”; rather it is a time-honored truth. No matter how much experience they have, or even many have participated in international races, which Pakistanis imagine only of by the Nescar Race video games; those drivers can never understand our rules.  They will sooner or later quit, faint or may be pass away on the way. At the end, it is not any joke; it is the land of winners, and it is driving in the best country of Pakistan”.

Alhamdulillah, Pakistan is an Islamic country, and we try our best to follow Islam in every second we spend and of course, we follow Islamic rules in our traffic. We have never believed in lanes because it creates distance, and our culture, religion and traditions have always taught us unity. This is the reason that there has never been any gap between two vehicles as well. People in other countries keep a big distance from the car in the front to avoid accidents, but we are not cowards; we are Mards. This series of unity sometime leads us to some narrow streets or squares where we have to stop for a while, but we stay there forever. A motorcycle rider can easily get off, step into a Rikshaw and climb a bus just to offer Salam to a friend. There is nothing to worry about at all, the traffic wouldn’t interrupt and no ladder needed either because we move shoulder to shoulder. The traffic does not move for hours, but we do not care because we like to be together and what is a better place than this to discuss religion and politics? SubhanAllah! Is there any nation which is such patient as Pakistan who waits around for hours sitting in Rikshaws and Qinqis relying on Chalia and Paan only?

Purity or cleanliness makes half of the Imaan, but we have a good philosophy of the traffic pollution. People think that we do not believe in Darwin’s theory, but I think we do! We love pollution because it makes our respiratory system very strong. We use our respiratory system’s filter 1000 times more than it needs to be used because the more you use an organ, the most it develops just like the neck of a giraffe. Now, can a person from UK compete with any Pakistani if both are put in a harshly polluted area? Furthermore, we also have the prayers and support of our molvis who usually drive a torn-silencer motor cycle. Our tremendous idea of believing in modern biology makes my lungs pump up. Moreover, we are also blessed with sound pollution. Horn sound is like an unnoticed music for us. What adds up is when the trumpet of Ambulance gets louder and the person says the lyric “Get out of the way for God sake, we have patient in critical situation”.  Since the dance floor is so full and everybody is moving with the beats, these lyrics go unheard. Our doctors usually appreciate this music the most. We are fun loving country and fond of music.

Most countries claim that there is gender in equality in Pakistan and women do not get their rights. How wrong and disrespectful our enemies are? I believe that no doubt there is gender inequality but women are more privileged than men. Take the example of women in the majlis of traffic jam; they are all covered in black. They have a very well dust safety over their mouths and most women wear glasses which makes them total dust proof. What do poor men have, except spitting Tulsi and Chaalia on the wheels of neighboring vehicle?  Zainura Bibi expresses her gratitude and excitement for being a proud Muslim woman “Non Muslims and Kafirs think that women are not valued in Muslim countries, but that is not true. We have a complete black hijab covering which stops any external particle to irritate us during slow traffic. We can see whatever we want to see through our black sunglasses. This is a big slap on the faces of people who are against hijab”. “We also enjoy the hot weathers of Karachi in black dress, there is shifa from Allah” she added. These brave women are pride of our nation.

Finally, the civil police which we pompously name as conductors take over the situation and start controlling the traffic. After a struggle of few more hours, the traffic starts moving. Everybody feels bad to be leaving, but they are happy that it happened rather than cry to be departing.  The traffic is further slowed down by some entrepreneurs who have extended their dry fruit, coconut and cigarette business to the middle of the roads. Nobody would object on that, because we encourage small businesses. When we move a bit forward, the traffic might stop to watch some street cricket. After every over, the wickets are taken away and the traffic moves. Everybody enjoys it because we are cricket loving nation.

Do you wonder if our politicians and “bare log” enjoy all this? The answer is No, because our leaders never want to snatch the rights of a common man. They have their own easy exit without all this fun.

I am sure there need to be any more reasons required to be proud of our country. We have given so much to this country, and I pray to Allah that may these traditions and the love and unity among people never get dim and there be no changes in our traffic system so that our coming generation have the honor to see what we have to give them as a present; A country we are really proud of!!

A Winter Day from My childhood

Life moves so fast that we hardly get time to look back at our lives of few years ago. Today I feel like missing my childhood winters. Those were some nice days: peaceful, lovely and memorable. I have mostly spent my childhood in the valley of Chitral. It is a cold place, and in winters the white sky falls on it. We used to get 1-2 feet of snow. My day would start by listening to BBC news on radio which my dad always listened to. We were lucky enough to not have a TV at that time. I would be lying under the blanket and may be teasing my elder brother Wajid who never like to get up early. I would wait till my dad call “Khan, get up!! Enough of sleeping”. I would behave if I just woke up and would stretch myself out. I hated taking bath so I would just take hot water in ewer from above the stove and throw water on my face to get fresh. My dad was regular in morning prayers, but he never asked us to go to Jamat Khana for Morning Prayer because no dad would like his kids to get frozen. After calling thousand times, Wajid would get up.

My sister and mom would bring us breakfast. Our usual breakfast would be tea, chapati, egg, shoshp/sanabachi or any other traditional stuff. After breakfast, I loved spending time in the small room sitting around stove and keep feeding that with Mirghinch wood. I had to read or at least pretend to be reading some book because my dad would read some books sitting in the same room. Wajid had the skill of escaping the room and I, the poor young kid, was supposed to be in the room so that dad doesn’t feel that we are not interested in our studies.

I also had my good times when it would be time for my dad to take a nap. As soon as dad would start snoring, it was time for me to get out of the room. My dad would not allow me because he did not want me to get sick in the cold. Wajid and I loved cleaning the pathway and hit each other with snow. I still remember that each of us had our Shoqa, a thick over coat made of wool, and plastic moozas. Going sledding with my friends and cousins to a steep place near our house was one of my favorite activities. Each of us would have a slingshot to hunt the birds. Now I feel how cruel we were, but it was a lot of fun to shoot a bird and then cut its neck with sharp stone meanwhile reading some Quranic verses, bring it home and burn its feather in fire and put it in the stove till it get cooked. By the time we would get home, my clothes would be all wet and the short day would be over as well. I would rush to the kitchen to dry myself off before my dad would see me. I did not mind scolding of my mom because I would just get up and hug her and she would burst into laughter.

Then mom, dad, I and Wajid would go to Jamat Khana for prayer. I do not know why, but I would slip and fall the most. I could see Wajid giggling back there and I would hardly control my anger. After coming from prayer, my sister and cousins would have made the dinner and shapik on a steel “TAAV”. I was crazy for rice. The day we had rice for dinner, everyone would say “ It is Eid for Wahid”. There would have always been something delicious on the dastarkhan. We usually had meat of LASHTI, a goat/ox which is well fed all the time and is slaughtered in winter so that long winter spends eating meat. After dinner, we would listen to radio, chattering with cousins (Wasim, Salim etc). We would laugh, dance and then pretend to be studying till we all go to sleep.

Those were the good old days! I look back, take a deep breath and wish I could just rewind it all, but Alas! Past is passed. It has been three years since I have spent a winter with my family in Chitral, and I miss my dad (R.I.P) when I memorize these days. I listen to the song “aj raat chandni hae or Jugnuo se bhar le aanchal” and my eyes get numb. Oh, how I miss my childhood winters. It is truly said that in childhood everyone is a king.