Friday, 31 December 2010

What is my Culture

As I sat in the Train I was thinking of old times. When I was born my parents used to tell me those were progressive times. Some people also called us "Model Economy". Then our neighbor the biggest enemy had 2 wars with us. In first we tried to gain territory but lost the war. In second they cut us into 2. Then the war in Afghanistan.

It was the time that I got married. Thankfully it was for the new marriage and love of my wife that I stopped from becoming a Jehadi. Oh Jehadi's soon they were all over. What they wanted I really never understood. Probably always fighting really motivated them or was it injustice? It is a point I can debate and debate from both sides but never agree with one.

As a Seraiki there are many similar unanswered question. Are Seraiki's Punjabi with a different dialect probably with Sindhi Effect, or are we a separate race with separate culture. I really don't know. Many of my people still debate, again I am lost

Oh but the Jehadi's, they came and just kept coming. Bombs were fun for them, but as my teritory never had got the development were always saved from them. They wanted those explosions in developed areas. Finally came the floods. I lost everything. My beautiful wife, 2 sons and a daughter. House of Mud just dissolved, maybe my small farm would be more fertile. But what use was it for me. I was lost. Lost everything, also lost the direction

And then when everybody was asking for separation. It was the buzz word. The Baluch had been always asking, the Sindhi's also did. The Pashtun's were confused. No not for their identity but Afghanistan or not. Even the Mohajir's had their identity. Oh we were still confused. It is then someone got up, said no state now. Separate country. Mr Jinnah was so happy now.

We heard of so many riots, Karachi, Quetta were hotbeds. Oh the people loved their fighting. But hey all leader, that is not the only fight, do sometimes think of fighting poverty of your people. I was Hungry. I wanted food. My land needed some yound hands, oh Kushal & Reaz my sons, I really miss you both. For such a selfish reason. But I am hungry my children.

I had enough of all that. Took this same train, arrived in Lahore. I thought being a metric will find some job, "even the Master's are laborer uncle" said the willy thekedar Naseer. That shrewd clever hawk made my bones crumble and just gave me 2 roti with onion and achaar.

One day while working tired I looked at the sun, and that is what I remember. Got up to find myself in a old shabby Hospital. It was run by a kind Sikh Lady just called Bijee from India who on hearing about the state came here to help. Oh India, they must be behind all this. Oh really, if they had so much control, then why did Mr Jinnah you separate. I have heard now there are no hungry people. They don't have Naseer's they say. We always looked at them envied them, try to beat them. But somehow, I hate them, do not know why, but it is inside me. I am sorry Bijee when I get fine I will leave this place

Thinking all this was interupted, I heard a boom. The Pashtun warlord had reached the outskirts of our dear Lahore. They were again coming on the old route which their ancestors took. At that time you killed qafir's silly. We are Muslims. Boom. Another one exploded near me, to bring me back to reality. Got up, badly looking for one earthly possession I have my shoes. Oh where is it, din know but picked any shoes and ran out. 30 Km away was the dream place. Many people had escaped there. Most of them were thrown back. India.

Just walking on my feet kept going there. Was I the only one. Oh no. I could see no end. On the way were many more Bijee's and Sardar Sahib's from India with their food camps or called Langar's. It was equivalent to mocking us and serving us food. How much could they be like this. Oh Indians you are behind this and now you mock us. I hate these Indians

Oh far I found many tents. And also Tanks, guns, Soldiers. Have the Pashtun's reached here to massacre us. Oh no. They are all wearing dresses. Look disciplined. Now you Indians have stepped on our soil. Oh you must be loving it. Laughing at us. We competed with you. Defeated you at Cricket Hockey. We were better than you but you destroyed us.

The Indians had stopped us. We were taken behind the security lines, to save from the Massacre. Oh in front of me an old man collapsed. Oh he has something. Is it food. I must rush to get it. But these old bones. Before I could reach it was all over. Only what was left was the common man's news paper Jang.

I picked to read it. On the front page what a terrible site. So many dead bodies in thee picture. You cannot count them. It was a Pashtun Army run over by Baluch's. The Pashtun were parked right outside Karachi. It was a revenge by Baluch's over killing all their brothers when the Pashtun's had captured Quetta.

Oh this bloodshed. Mr Jinnah how do you feel. The Indians surely must be happy. Their plans worked.

Staying in the camp was difficult. Sometimes I got the food. Disease was all around. Then one day came Shahbaz Sharif. The aged leader announced they needed soldiers to fight. His brother Nawaz was hanged by Pashtun. The Taliban was back. I voluntered, but the selector chucked, "Baba Apne ghar Sambhalo, apne mundeyan nu phejo" (Old man take care of your house, send ur sons instead). Then asked "kithon de rehan wale hon" (Where do you belong to). Bahawalpur. His face froze. People around me froze

Then said "Saale Seraiki ithe Jasoosi karan aaya hai" (Hey Seraiki have you come to spy on us). Kut saale nu (Thrash him). Then it was all kicks and punches. I relaxed inside me. Kushal, Reaz I am coming. Shabana my dearest I will meet you and so my cute daughter Noor. But then suddenly some shots. Oh these Indians would let me die also. They took me aside and after first aid took me to the Seraiki corner of Camp.

The Seraiki leader Mr Gilani had mobilized forces. He has mascaraed Punjabi's, Pashtun's. Sindhi's were spared and asked to leave. Oh now we were awake from our sleep when the Pashtun's had whole Pakistan with them

Over time in camp I saw people trying to escape to India. Many were shot. India was a No no. Stay here you will get you food. We will soon take you to Seraikistan. Oh what Seraikistan, but there is no Seraikistan, I told the Indian Captain. "Ab tumne bana to liya hai. Nahi bhi banaya to bana loge" (You have already made it. If not you will soon make it).

The Indians had come in Karachi. They had to save their lost brothers the "Mohajirs" They also reached Bahawalpur. The arrogance of Indian Captain was a reflection of that. They provided Punjabi's with arms and Bombarded the Pashtun positions. The Baluch were strong enough to defend themselves. The Indians always supported them. The Pashtun and Baluch were into a unsaid pact. No attacking each other. Soon everybody were back to their old borders.

Meanwhile we all were given cards. For the first time I was not a Pakistani but a Seraiki. Oh is it my identity. Oh you Indians now you mock us by providing such cards. The Punjabi's allowed us to be back in Lahore, saying you are Punjabi's only, their brothers. Seraiki is just another dialect of Punjabi. Oh Am I a Punjabi now.

A year passed in Lahore. It was always tense. Seeing my Seraiki card finding Job was difficult. I got a job of cleaning table in a Indian Hotel Chain. Oh you Indians, destroyed us and now doing business with us. We always heard something is going on. People are talking Pakistan issue would be solved. Leader met, disagreed and came back. Many of so called Seraiki's started to go back. Then one day we heard that an Brave Indian leader has landed in Peshawar. Oh really. A year ago they were fighting. Now they talk. How is it possible.

The Indian was working for what they wanted. Destruction of Pakistan. Another year passed when the same leader announced everybody is meeting in an Indian City of Dalhousie. Oh it was named after the British. Mr Jinnah got Pakistan from them, such a great leader, but these Indians are working for our destruction.

2 weeks of haggling finally produced results. The Jang during these 2 weeks was filled with Speculation. An agreement was Signed. Pakistan was over. Now it was 6 Nations. Kashmir was already taken over by Indians long time back. Punjabistan, Pakhtoonistan, Baluchistan, Jinnahpur, Seraikistan and Sind were formed. Punjabistan got Lahore and Islamabad, Pakhtoonistan got Peshawar & Quetta, Baluchistan lost quetta and got a massive aid to develop Gwadar, Jinnahpur of Mohajir. They vilified our great leader's name and Got the all important City of Karachi. Oh Indians you also took away the vein of Pakistan and gave it to your lost brothers. Sind lost Karachi, imagine the Sindhi's. They thankfully had Hyderabad and a massive aid from India to develop another port. I was to go to Seraikistan with my Bahawalpur as capital.

The Cards had sealed our fate. We could not choose our country. I had to go back. Then Indians came and asked me to report next week at Railway Station. It was my slot to go to my supposed dream home land.

Oh the week. I saw so many people coming. They had lost everything and had to start. People desperate not to leave. They had lived over generation, but no, you are not Punjabi's, you cannot stay in Lahore. I had nothing to loose except my shoes.

As the day came I came out of my Hut. Saw the city for the last time. Met my Paktun friend in the city for the last time, met my Punjabi frnds. I am a Seraiki's I shouted with tear in my eyes. Took the tonga and reached the Station. There the officer gave me the ticket and guided me towards my bogey. Many Indian volunteer's were there helping us in our destruction. Oh Indians you have been successful. You have destroyed us.

I came to my seat with all gloomy faces around. I could not find a smile except for a mad man who was just laughing. I took my seat. A pearl of tear in my eyes, cursing had a whole flashback. Thought to myself who asked for Pakistan, who gave birth to Jehadi, who mis managed the floods, who fought with each other, killed each other. Was it the Indians. They had some role but who were the real culprit. It was the dead Pakistani inside us.

Wiping my tear, I had found my real identity. I was a Seraiki. I had found my culture.

PS:- This story is an imagination of What will be the future of Pakistan. The views about India in the story do not reflect my views but merely trying to portray how a Pakistani would have been thinking. Enjoy the story :)

1 comment:

  1. I really liked the story... nice imagination... good job!!!