I am Pakistan’s disasters
I am Pakistan’s resilience
His prejudices
And fervor.
That blazing ferocious sun which strikes only the poor of Karachi and pardons the rich
That torrent of monsoon flood which demolishes peasants houses, ignoring the nearby palace of the landlord
That dancing death in a farmer’s house whose seeds the government didn’t buy
That wrath of God destined for the weak only.
I am the falsified history which is being taught to the pupils
History which glorifies the tyrants and undermines the real sons of the soil.
I am the bellicose politician’s instinct of felony; felony that loots a nation
I am that broken oath on the Quran, the testimonial of a Military General that he will not intervene in politics
That wand of a serviceman which he uses against his own countrymen
That constitution which he suspends
I’m the defense budget, it’s a taboo to bat an eye on me
I hide behind denials when it comes to Balochistan, suppressing and humiliating their voices.
I am also that stolen baby from a children’s ward that left my mother with hue and cry
A poor man’s kidney, stolen and sold by a crooked doctor
The instinct of that barbarity which makes a person steal dead bodies
Dead bodies from the unsafe cemeteries, from the unsafe graves
I am that urea being adulterated in milk
Milk that is fed to an infant and runs in his veins
I am the agony of a 6 months old baby being raped by a barbarian
The misery of an incarcerated man for a crime he didn’t commit
A life wasted behind the bars
I’m the poison a homeless mother mixes in food to feed her kids and to herself
That last fatal supper
That defeated suicidal jump in the river
The torpidity of a prostitute whose moans are considered as joy
Her numbness and the invisible dried tears.
I am that honor of Islam being saved by burning Christian colonies
I’m Salman Taseer’s courage laid to rest by 23 bullets
That dollar-sponsored Jihad that took our sons for good
Jihad that filled the pockets of the oligarchs
I am also the dubious face of its pseudo-intelligentsia
The mainstream turned into the lamestream
The hypocrisy
Amir Liaquat’s fancy branded dress worn whilst lecturing on simplicity
Junaid Jamshaid’s beard, the beard which made him escape blasphemy accusations
Bilal Qutab’s tasbeeh that he rocks whilst wearing Armani suit
Mubashir Luqman’s hoopla breaking news, nobody believes me.
I am Billawal Bhutto’s sir name, borrowed from the mother, the only one of its kind
I’m the wretched citizen, searching for my culprit
I’m the lost pride, the lost compassion, and the lost nationalism
I’m a forgotten ideology
I’m an unworthy sacrifice
I am the Bare Pakistan!
