On seeing the glass filled to the brim

Main kaafir to naheen, etc

It’s not that I don’t want to see the glass half-full or more. I most definitely do. And believe me, I try real hard. In fact, in my saner moments (which thankfully account for the major part of my nights and days), I succeed to an amazing degree. Every now and then, however, I have disturbing thoughts causing me no end of grief.

Today’s a case in point. My world was making perfect sense when I woke up. With the impressive display of tanks, helicopters and missiles*, things only improved. It was reassuring to know yet again that our un-impregnable defense was indeed second to none. Add colourful floats from different provinces, people gaily dancing to folk tunes, and not one crazy Jamiat mob in sight – and it was clear that the federation was in great health. God was in His Heaven and all seemed well with the world. We, as a nation, were all set to arrive (if we hadn’t already arrived that is). These exhilarating visions would have continued, and our glorious past would doubtless very soon have intertwined with an equally dazzling future, had I not been rudely interrupted by what I thought was a sudden power-failure. (I later realised it was scheduled load-shedding, the dutiful IESCO employee having pulled the plug unimpeachably on time.)

Once interrupted like this, there’s no stopping the flood of all sorts of dangerous questions. We were crowned ‘second to none’, for example, in which competition? Things only go south after this flood-gate is breached. Because I too want to be happy like many of many friends; I too want to preserve my sanity like others.

But that’s easier said than done. For when it’s not power-failure (or load-shedding), it’s something else that plays the spoilsport. I, like many Pakistanis, recognise that being a God-given country, Pakistan enjoys a special status in the comity of nations. Consequently, most of the time I have no difficulty believing reports, for example, projecting Pakistan to become an Asian tiger by this year or making it to G20 by that – a virtual certainty in view of CPEC, the mother of all game-changers. I find that believing this contributes greatly to my happiness. But just when one is basking in future-glory, a news report on TV or print about somebody, here and now, selling or killing his children because of extreme poverty is enough to mar the whole mood.

Take another example: It’s undoubtedly gratifying to note that every few months or so our politicians show an uncompromising commitment to justice when they contend that military courts violate basic human rights of transparency, due process of law, and appeal. One can be proud of the parliamentarians, though it is somewhat disturbing when every time, after much deliberation, they agree to the military courts albeit with civilian oversight – probably recognising that extraordinary circumstances call for extraordinary measures. However, prima facie, what doesn’t fit the pretty picture is the performance of the ‘overseeing’ courts, what with most citizens reconciled to suffer injustice without moving them – acting on the never-lose-good-money-after-the-bad adage – sometimes even preferring local jirgas comprising crazy old men.

I have figured out from experience that when contemplation of local affairs becomes unbearably painful, thinking about Pan-Islamism and the Muslim ummah is still very soothing. Until some cynic points out the humiliation metered out by Arabs to ‘fellow Muslims’ and the fire raging in the Middle East with Muslim killing Muslim with impunity. Such cynics are everywhere – Satan surely doesn’t dependent on TV or newspapers alone to mess with your mind.

Having shirked nothing in chronicling my own struggles, I now come to the happier task of declaring that after every such weak moment, I do some quick calculations, repent, and become a believer again, so to speak. But I realise that not everybody is as self-disciplined as I am. And I suspect that I am not alone in experiencing this loss of faith so to speak, especially in weaker moments albeit temporarily – usually right before and after sleep. A bomb explodes in Peshawar (say), and one responds in a reasonable manner by consoling oneself that the martyred are destined straight for Paradise; that the perpetrators will rot in eternal Hell; that it’s a RAW/Zionist conspiracy; that the enemies are jealous of our progress, etc. But it is not unreasonable to expect that sooner or later, some crazy thoughts will start rearing their ugly heads: Why do we fail so frequently to foil such attempts? How come the Zionists always succeed in recruiting agents from amongst ourselves? Why are we not nearly as lucky in conspiring against them?  Keeping these thoughts at bay can be more than a handful.

As I advance in years I am becoming more and more convinced that the much-vaunted soul-searching is grossly over-rated. Introspection obviously does more harm than good, for happiest are those who have the ability of seeing the glass filled to the brim regardless of any conflicting evidence. For doubt can easily rob one of one’s peace of mind, or worse. As for those who are unable to dispense with their critical faculties however, something like an Operation Raddud Damaagh should work wonders.

*Written on March 23, Pakistan Day