- What the rise of pulpit aims to achieve
People we meet and the suggestions they make, at times, can deepen, even alter our understanding of the world. It was Julia, a Russian lady married to a Pakistani who recommended that I read Bulgakov’s The Master and Margarita, the greatest ever Russian novel according to her. “What Bulgakov achieved in this novel is unlike anything offered by Tolstoy or Dostoevsky,” she said. Being enchanted by the vastness and depth of Tolstoy’s prose, sombreness of Dostoevsky’s many worlds, irreverence of Nabokov, dreariness of Gogol’s ‘Overcoat’, and Chekhov’s observation of human foibles and momentary triumphs, I made a mental note to read Bulgakov.
I forgot and time marched on. Recently, I met Master along with Margarita as I skimmed through the fiction section at Mr Books. The novel, dearest sirs and ma’ams, is about Woland, the devil and the havoc he wreaks on humans and Master, a historian turned lunatic and Margarita, Master’s love. For those interested in knowing more, they better give the novel a try. It will suffice to say that if we turn the whole novel on its head, dearest sirs and ma’ams, we’ll have ourselves a near perfect allegory of the most talked about event that happened in Pakistan during last three weeks.
Our Master has all the attributes, powers and bent of Woland. He is a sinister, scheming creature who knows how to keep his audience on the edges of their seat. If it takes a kick in the shins, he’ll give it. If it requires sketching a line dividing the same stock of terror in good and bad portions, he’ll draw it. If it asks for a plot to upend all schemes, he’ll lay it. All can be, should be, must be sacrificed at the altar to ensure and perpetuate supremacy. The partners keep changing, old allies are swiftly sidelined, new darlings are quickly embraced. While, few enlightened ones gawk and gape as the majority lauds the tricks and ploys.
The crowds change, the leaders and their acolytes change but don’t for a second think that this difference substantially changes anything. Despite them hailing from even diametrically opposite backgrounds once provided with a movable dais, a mic, scores of loudspeakers, a hundred or more supporters they can, and just proved that they would bring the state to its knees.
Our Master has all the attributes, powers and bent of Woland. He is a sinister, scheming creature who knows how to keep his audience on the edges of their seat
Let us kill the urge of locating the puppeteer behind the ongoing events and unveiling the puppet master behind what transpired at Faizabad. The voices harp on their usual suspects as the military bashing lot point fingers to the Gentlemen of Aabpara. Those sick and tired of government see someone else grinding his axe from behind the curtains. It does not require a genius to see the whole charade for what it is, all one needs to do is to indulge in a bit of navel-gazing and read (or reread) about the anti-Ahmadi riots in Lahore during 1953, what caused them, who were behind them, how the state quelled them and which minister had to go as a scapegoat. It tells us that we’ve been to the same junction before. The hate doesn’t happen all of a sudden, it simmers and toils silently and when it comes out of the closet it spares none.
In our land of the pure, whenever elections are just around the corner a nuisance rears its ugly head. Sponsored by the loads of money, paid by some invisible hand, pampered and reassured of backing and support these hordes descend from their crevices. It doesn’t matter who wins, as the game is not about winning. It is about maintaining sway.
Of late, the gimmickry of putting up banners made a return. On my way back home, I spotted one having a big picture of anti-Ahmedi poster boy of N-league, Captain Safdar. The caption read Khadim-e-Rasool (SAW). Remember, when last time banners paddling absurd fantasies aimed to entice a battle-hardened, A-class general with the political power and imagining him as the head of government by technocrats propped up quite mysteriously all over the major cities.
To live for a cause is certainly a best way to bid adieu and achieve the zenith of life. There is also no denying that the question of right and wrong is only a question of perspective. It is how and from where you look at the world. The state, we were taught, does not discriminate among its children. All citizens are equal, Jinnah promised. Equal opportunities for all, our constitution yells. Protection of life and property, the clause is still there in our supreme law. From where we see things and how they unravel, the perspective of state is skewed and eaten up by myopia. It slaughters the good for all to please the baton-wielding, hate-spewing few.
Long live the short-sighted Master who knows not that the game he plays does not follow the rules of chess. His pawns will take the rooks, the knights, the bishops and then, it’ll be their turn to pay the devil his due.
