The truth (and the Pashtun) is the first casualty of war.
The propping up of young men from the Pashtun belt by the deep state to further whatever it defines as national interests has been, since a long time, been a talking point of the progressive ANP-types.
In the imagination of the mainstream, say the red caps, the Pashtun exists in strict alternation between a joke and a fearless warrior. That is it. They might face the worst racial profiling in the country – by the military, no less – but when push comes to shove, when relations with India are strained, expect the legion of Pakistani Facebook warriors to say stuff like “Hindustan ke liye toh hamarey Pathan hee kaafi hain.”
And these are not just hypotheticals. Starting from the onslaught on Kashmir by the tribals in ‘48 to the subsequent development of seminaries to act in Afghanistan, which continues till this very day, the Pashtuns have actually been used as cannon fodder by the state.
The Pashtuns exist in Fata, Baluchistan as well, but if one were to look at KP, one has to marvel at what stark hatred towards India has been fashioned by the state in the only province of what is now Pakistan that had wanted to remain in India!
In one instance of the large amount of material illustrating how the image of the Pashtuns has been crafted, the progressives share on social media a video of a song of the film Bedari (1957.) It is given below (Online audience only.)
Ao bachon Saer karaen tum ko Pakistan ki, iss ki khaatir hum ne di qurbani laakhon jaan ki is the recurring line used by the school teacher. After each iteration of whatever he follows that line with, the kids repeat in unison Pakistan Zindabad in tune. The setting of the song is a train, in which they travel through the land.
So they start with the lines about Sindh. No Sindhi would be happy with them, of course, because it is only the Arab invaders our man praises; no native Sindhi makes the cut.
In any case, after a stint through the Punjab, they get to sarhad, which is filled with the ideas mentioned in the beginning. Bandookon ki chhaon mein hotay bachey hain jawan yehan. Sar pe kafan baandhe hai dekho har Pathan yehaan.
Same old drivel.
More curious than the omission of Balochistan in the song is the complete exclusion, 14 years before 1971, of Bengal.
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What has caught my attention in this particular song is the sheer interchangeability of it. You see, six years before Bedari came out, a movie by the name of Jagriti was released in India
Does the following song sound familiar?
Ao bacho tumhe dikhaaen jhaanki Hindustan ki; iss matti se tilak karo ye dharti hai balidaan ki. The kids chant Vande Mataram instead of Pakistan Zindabad.
Interesting here is the iconography. For what contained at the time perhaps the second largest Muslim population on the planet, the song made no mention of any Muslim heritage. In the song, in the bit about Shiva Ji, the teacher talks about Mughal oppression and how bacha bacha Har Har Mahadev bola tha.
This, despite it being Nehru’s India; the man was obsessed about uplifting the Muslims of India and placing them firmly in the framework of the newly independent republic. But the producers wanted to feed the market what it wanted.
But it doesn’t just stop there. Apparently, Bedari was an almost identical copy of Jagriti, a Bollywood film! The film even had some cast and crew in common; they merely migrated and made the same movie (tunes, story, sentiment and all) in Pakistan.
Also consider this song, a homage to Mahatma Gandhi.
If Pakistani readers cannot pick up on the Sanskritised Hindi, they certainly can pick up the tune: Ae Quaid-e-Azam, Tera Ehsan hai Ehsan.
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The films and the songs, mirror images of each other, can serve to illustrate how propaganda might seem very special and specific to its own case, it actually uses a one-size-fits-all method. It appeals to the same base emotions; it vilifies the Other, it champions violence.
One is reminded of the bit by the Indian standup comedian Rahul Subramanian, where he is having an argument with his Pakistani friend.
“Do you remember the 1965 war,” Subramanian asks.
“Do YOU remember the 1965 war,” the Pakistani friend answers.
I suppose he read his textbooks, says Subramanian, and I mine.
Post-script: though all states have their bits of propaganda, there is a limit on how much it is possible to lie about lost wars. One doesn’t think the Indians textbooks say that they won the ‘62 war with China. Pakistani textbooks, on the other hand……
