- Pakistan writes an open letter to the World demanding recognition, respect and love
‘Listen, dear World’ is how I addressed you at first. You didn’t pay heed. So, I had to yell aloud. And now that I have your attention, let us start on a light, literary note. Every sinner, Oscar Wilde firmly believed and passionately preached, has a future for he can always atone for deeds done, seek forgiveness for sins committed and start life anew. Saints are reformed sinners who have sought and bagged salvation from Almighty and forgiveness from mortals they’ve wronged.
Dearest World, in me, a land where green and white parcham firmly holds on to a bamboo stick, are good, decent folks. Trust me, in here we have an abundance of saints and severest paucity of sinners. Believe me for we are a group of fine people with upright ideals. My politicians are angels. My masses are herd of innocent sheep. My businessmen are a guileless lot. My journalists are epitome of integrity. My bureaucrats are devoted servants of state. My judges are Justice Incarnate. My generals transcend Bonaparte and Hannibal in all things ‘strategic’ and military. My poor are blessed children in peril. My rich enjoy the rightful fruits of their labour.
I, in a sentence, am a land where good, genius people live in a bad, bad, bad neighbourhood, dear World. We live, breathe, survive, take loans, construct highways and metros, enjoy our karak chai in winters and cold beverages in sluggish summers, conduct roaring business of real estate, enjoy late night calls with beloved one under a constant pall of fear and uncertainty. With a belligerent India on my left, a perennially unstable Afghanistan on my right, a strange country called Iran on the same right and a wide, open Arabian sea down my feet. Geography has been a b*tch to me. Never mind, let us move on.
The point I am trying to make here is that if not for the hidden hands that interfere, the covert powers-that-be who meddle, the mighty conspirators who strive to see me crash and burn, and the rotten eggs belonging to fifth column, I would be paradise on earth. I have mountains, deserts, rivers, four seasons (some say there are only two left, but they lie) and with more than 200 million lads and lasses — including those who are busy whiling away their time on Instagram, Facebook, Snapchat, and of late Musically-are natural resources I am well endowed with.
If only we were given a level-playing field. Mark my words, we would have been at top of everyone, calling the shots everywhere and making this world safe for all and sundry.
I need love, dear World. Love that has been denied to me. I’ve been used, misused, abused and thrown aside, repeatedly
Alas, that is not the case, dear World. Our ‘humbleness’ is not given its due place by the cruel, hypocrite people who live on you. We are mistaken for charlatans, and we seriously don’t know why, hellbent to sell their merchandise to highest bidder. We are labelled pariahs, by you-know-who, when all we really do is support the underdog, side with the weaker, righteous ones. We are ridiculed, mocked and derided for sins we never committed. We are blamed for acts we have no inkling about.
We are the innocents, dear World. And you know this. We may have faltered in the past. But that was past. We atoned for them. We may fail again, you might think. But that may be a mere, useless apprehension. The thing is that we’ve learned our lessons; now mistakes committed during learning those lessons should be forgotten and forgiven. A new beginning won’t harm. Turning up a new leaf will herald a new us in a rusty, old, dull you.
Let me remind you again, dear world. You need me. For I have the geography and looks, I have the manpower, I have the scenic beauty, I have the might, I have all that the world hankers after yet falls short of from achieving. And no I don’t want dollars, fighter jets, military aid, and financial assistance. What I want is someone who first understands my sorrows, know my miseries and feel the pain I went through. And then do everything to help me out from the shithole I’ve been relegated to.
I need love, dear World. Love that has been denied to me. I’ve been used, misused, abused and thrown aside, repeatedly. I need unconditional love, Ishq as we call it on this side of Afghanistan.
Give me love, give me freedom to do what I want to do, facilitate me in every endeavour, waive off all my debts, give me a fresh start with seven, eight dams, fix me with state-of-the-art weaponry to deal with miscreants, shower 50 , 60 billion dollars on me so that I can develop social sector, educate kids, increase exports, improve agricultural yield and run some other minor errands.
That is pretty much all I need to become the Pakistan you want me to be, dear World. Can you please grant these little, tiny, innocent wishes as you wish me Happy Birthday?