The regular writer of this column is on leave; in the meantime, I, her alter-ego, have taken over. And boy, do I have a story for you. I was informed recently – by very trusted and well-read sources (professors!), I might add – that the US State department has secretly converted to Islam, and is now trying to make the women of Pakistan cover up and wear decent clothes.
Now for the details. A few days ago, a group of Holy Ones decided to have a conference. The Holiest One had sent word that he had an important message for them. They met somewhere in the middle of nowhere (i.e., along the Pak-Afghan border), said their hello-how-do-you-dos and waited for the Holiest One to arrive. All of a sudden, they saw something in the sky. “It’s a bird,” they said. “No, it’s a plane!” “Looks like a drone,” someone shouted and everyone ran for cover. The UFO landed, and the Holy Ones braced for an explosion. There was none, and they hesitantly came out of hiding. As it turned out, it was neither a bird, nor a plane, nor a drone – it was the Holiest One, Sirajuddin Haqqani, dressed like Superman. “But sir,” one of the men pointed out. “Superman wears his underpants over his trousers.”
“You fool! I’m a commando,” Haqqani thundered.
“Errrr, Holiest One, I think there’s a difference between being a commando and going commando, sir,” one of the Holy Ones said. “Is there? Oh,” Haqqani murmured. “Doesn’t matter. I’m the Holiest One. My definitions work. Like when our affiliates call for a ceasefire, and still bomb civilians. Stop wasting my time. Let the meeting begin. I have an important announcement: we’re calling for a ceasefire with the US.”
“Very clever,” the Holy Ones laughed. “You mean we say it’s a ceasefire and then sneak up behind them?”
“No, you fool, a real ceasefire,” the Holiest One shouted impatiently. “The US is no longer Darul Harb. The State department has secretly converted to Islam. What’s more, they even hatched a conspiracy to make the behaya women of this country cover up.” He then read out a text message that he had received. “Listen to this, it is extremely important: the recent outbreak of dengue,” he read, “has made the women of Lahore stop wearing sleeveless shirts and capris. They’re now wearing full-sleeved shirts, and even socks!”
“Holiest One, I don’t think that is intel. It’s a forwarded joke,” someone pointed out.
Haqqani looked at him, thoroughly exasperated. “This,” he said slowly, “might look like a joke, but it is actually cleverly coded intel. And it makes sense. With so many people dying of dengue, do you think women would risk getting bitten by mosquitoes by dressing indecently?” Everyone agreed he had a point. But what was that about the US State department, they asked.
“This is the best part,” the Holiest One said proudly. He took his laptop out of his backpack, connected it to the internet, and browsed to a website. “Here, listen to this.” He spent the next four hours reading out an article by two professors who claimed that the dengue outbreak in Lahore was actually a US conspiracy. Haqqani spelled every word of the article out too, lest anyone missed the point. He also brandished a copy of the Qur’an around during this time so no one would think the professors had made any of this up. “You see? The US introduced dengue here in order to make our women cover up! Thanks to them, there will be no more behaya women, no more dancing, no more singing, no more… you get the point. Now why would they do that if the State department hadn’t secretly converted to Islam,” he exclaimed. “The US is no longer Darul Harb. They are our brothers now! Ceasefire!”
The Holy Ones looked on, stunned. Then they erupted in claps and cheers. “Ceasefire! Ceasefire!” they shouted, gleefully. “These two professors should be awarded for their services to humanity!”
A press release was quickly typed out for the All-Holy Public Relations (AHPR) to send to the media, followed by celebrations and feasting for three more hours. After the Holy Ones had finally eaten and left, the poor starving residents of the nearby hills hesitantly came down to the valley to look for leftovers. All of a sudden, they saw something in the sky. “It’s a bird,” they said. “No, it’s a plane!” “Looks like a drone,” someone shouted. But before anyone could run for cover, there was a loud explosion, and all that was left of the meeting, the leftover food and the poor scavengers was a mile-wide crater. “Great success,” a small voice in the distance said.
In other news, the word around Islamabad is that residents of Karachi might want to head to their bunkers: Hurricane Zulfiqar is about to make landfall. Again.
The regular writer of this column and her alter-ego can both be found lurking on Twitter (@UroojZia) and can also be reached via email (contact at uroojzia.com).