It's true: we are a hashtag nation. It means our attention span is only as long as the time a hashtag survives on Twitter’s trending list.

We do not have serious discussions or educated discourse on issues. Instead, we have cycles of rage that fuel up masses with that feel-good hormone to help them power them through whatever tragedy is at hand.

Be it #StaySafe, #WeShallSurvive, #DownWith ____ or #EverythingIsAwesome, our communal capacity to deal with issues has boiled down to trending hashtags.

Also read: #PeshawarAttack: 10 ways we should not have reacted

Now, this would be great if Pakistan were a nation on Twitter or Facebook. Unfortunately for us, virtual activists though, there is a Pakistan that exists in physical reality, and has very real issues and problems for which all we are doing is spewing reactionary rhetorical nonsense.

Take, for instance, the Peshawar Massacre.

First came the grief and rage. Then came the politicalisation of a tragedy. In response to that happened military courts. And that is it.

The outcome of a massacre of 132 children was a bunch of press conferences, candlelight vigils, social media rhetoric and the creation of military courts.

Who is at fault here?

Well, everyone is.

The politicians are at a fault because they could not get a handle on the situation for even a second. When the nation needed a leader and direction, our politicians chose to call an All Parties Conference, which indicates that they would all rather sit down and break bread then stand in front of the nation and explain how they plan to extract revenge for our children.

Take a look: Rage and grief

The media messed up as it always does too. Instead of charting the magnitude of the problem we face, they chose to milk the tragedy and bring to the fore those who somehow saw nothing wrong with it. Instead of searching for the truth and painting the reality, our media chose to mint money off the deaths of children.

At no point did they raise questions on how could this happen in such a fortified area.

At no point did they hold the authorities responsible for local security and more importantly, at no point did they have the decency to even go with a 40-day mourning for the victims. True to custom, the milking continued until they acquired a new topic to milk – the wedding.

Read on: Imran Khan's wedding: How the media failed

The civil society messed up. I realise the civil society have a holier-than-thou approach to things and it normally works out for them but the truth is, they messed this up royally.

The issue was 141 people getting slaughtered by the Taliban. They turned that into a these-right-wing-religious-people-are-dangerous issue instead of going after the Taliban. Instead of building a narrative that would unify the nation in the time of need against an enemy after our very lives, they chose to go after radical clerics.

Here is the thing: radical clerics are an issue but they are not the number one issue.

Know more: Civil society to restart anti-Lal Masjid campaign

By diverting attention from the subject, we ended up neither here nor there.

Lal Masjid is there as it always was and will remain until their actual overlords decide otherwise. The Taliban are still maiming and killing our people. We are exactly where we were because our civil society chose to work with a very narrow perspective and completely misunderstood the priorities of the masses.

Lastly, the general masses are at fault. The fact that our masses would move past a tragedy as debilitating as this in under three weeks to take the time to sit back and enjoy the wedding of our resident old-age pensioner just shows the level of moral decay our society has gone through.

Gone is the rage that happened from December 17 to December 21.

See: Walk the talk

I would like to take a moment out to say that we, as a nation, need to now make peace with the fact that each one of us is like our president – #WeAreAllMamnoonHussain.

We remain MIA till something drastic happens, at which point, we have to be dragged out of our comfy beds to make a statement and show some rage. As soon as the cameras and lights turn off, we turn back and walk in to our presidential palaces.

The next time a tragedy occurs, spare the rhetorical hashtag wars and emo rage and just jump straight to the next hashtag, because whatever you have to say is not going to make any difference.

You see, hashtag nations do not trend long enough to truly make a difference.

We are not Aitzaz Hasan or the families of those 132 kids who lost their lives.

We are not the 50,000-plus people who have lost lives to terrorism in the last decade.

We are apathetic, momentarily conscious walking-dead beings that can live only inside our own bubbles.

The only thing that matters to us is, how long our current hashtag will keep trending for.

Correction: The article previously misspelt Hasan as Ahsan. The error is regretted and has been fixed.

PAF pilots wrote this message from the children of Pakistan on bombs. — Photo by author

“Riz, you have a phone call,” were the first words I heard as I entered the air-crew room after a mission.

I grabbed a mug of coffee and walked to the land line, hardly expecting it to be my 10-year-old baby sister on the other end. It was a surprise; she had never called me at my squadron before.

I tried recalling if I had forgotten anything she had asked for but nothing strikes my mind. Before I could even say anything, I heard loud erratic breathing. In her trembling voice she said:

“You’re going to kill each and every one of the bad guys out there, right?”

I was stunned. I said, yes, of course, that’s what I am here for.

She replied only with a “thank you” and hung up.

“A school in Peshawar has just been attacked,” I learnt, and for a moment I thought I had heard wrong.

How could someone attack a school, I asked myself. Even taking the perverse exploitation of religion by pseudo cults into account, how could someone think of targeting innocent children who would not even know why were they being targeted?

The unimaginable had happened.

The Army Public School in Peshawar had been attacked by seven terrorists who stormed in and opened fire indiscriminately and killed scores of our innocent angels – it was Armageddon.

Children were killed after confirmations of being sons of armed forces personnel. They were shot in the head. They were shot in the face. They were dragged out from under chairs, under tables and shot. At point blank.

Their offense? They were the children of those who have dedicated their lives to defend their countrymen.

Nine hundred and sixty students and staff members were evacuated safely by Pakistan’s Special Services Group’s, Zarrar Company, which is specialised in anti-terrorism and hostage evacuation aided by the Pakistan Air Force’s airborne surveillance aircraft.

One hundred and forty one of our countrymen died on one of the blackest days in the history of humanity.

One hundred and thirty three children aged between 5-18 years were killed with questioning eyes that asked, “What is our fault?”

A teacher was set alight alive, and students were made to watch. Humanity died 141 deaths that day.

My mother called me last night:

“Fight them. Kill them. They’ve hurt your mothers.”

Never had I heard my mother so enraged before.

“Even my life for vengeance,” I reassured her.

Armed Forces personnel are known to be emotionally distant and strong. My best friend gave his life for the motherland in my arms. I held his hands in mine and the last look on his face was of satisfaction; entreating me to continue the mission of safeguarding the country.

The blood from his chest spilled onto my hands, and sealed the deal.

Perhaps it is the military in us that stays our emotional pendulum from swinging back and forth wildly. We do not mourn our martyrs, we take pride in them.

Even so, it took me days to be able to write this, one is just short on words about this kind of savagery.

I’ve never heard such pin-drop silence in our fighter crew rooms, ever.

Even on losing our comrades in action, we get together and reiterate our resolve to continue the mission.

Thirty days today and no one has spoken a word since, just the exchange of silent reassurances between fighter pilots to avenge our children.

And avenge we will.

The nation has been shaken to its core by this vicious incident. People are eager to play their part in avenging the animals who took away our children.

Every heart in the country goes out to our mothers and wants to take away their pain, however possible.

The international media needs to align its true North too. These innocent children were not targeted because they were going to school; they were targeted because they were the children of the armed forces personnel who are fighting against terrorism.

Today, I visited Army Public School Peshawar.

As desolated as any place ever could be, I could visualise our traumatised children uncertain of what was coming at them in that blood streaked auditorium, I could hear them running in the destructed corridors amidst the gunshots. I could read their last messages on their bloodied books grabbed in pain.

An army soldier stands guard in the Army Public School after it was attacked by Taliban militants in Peshawar. — AP

I could hear them all around asking me if I would continue their mission and I inevitably, inadvertently, kept nodding in affirmation throughout.

Every step I took in those corridors strengthened my resolve to get back and fight back stronger than ever, but there was something I had to do first.

I visited the Combined Military and Lady Reading Hospitals in Peshawar to meet the injured children and their families and to visit the great mothers, who we as a nation are indebted to.

Every child I met in the hospital was an epitome of courage and resilience and could not wait to get better and get back to the same classrooms their friends had been shot in.

“I will go back and complete my studies in the same school and join our armed forces to fight all the enemies,” a 10-year-old injured student told me.

What a resolve, what a nation.

I then went to meet the mother of a 14-year-old victim. Believe me, fighting a war, bombing the enemy, facing bullets and missiles is a lot easier than facing a mother who has lost her child.

I walked in, the father of the student embraced me. I could hear his heart beat and his lips quiver as he took me to the child’s mother.

“He’s going to avenge our son,” he said, and suddenly, I felt the entire weight of the world descend upon my shoulders.

The mother looked up at me and all she could do was extend her hand towards me. I knelt down, took her hand in my hands and kissed it:

“Ma, I will avenge every single one of our children.”

A tear fell from her eye, rolled down on her cheek, dropped on our hands, and sealed the deal.

“What can we, as Pakistanis in the civil, do to help?” a very dear friend asked me.

First things first, we as fighter pilots and soldiers only need two things that boost our morale in the field infinite folds: national unity, and motivation.

All we need right now is motivation. There is no denial that this barbaric incident shook all of us. As the saner voices out there, we have all the more responsibility to get out, walk our people through these toughest of the times.

Our children will most likely develop Post Traumatic Stress Disorder; we have to talk them through this, motivate them, and give them a reason to believe. We have to give our people the hope they need to cling onto.

Help us, those who are at the front and build the nation.

This won’t be easy let me tell you but we will do it.

I will not mourn, I will not express my anger. I want to remember this incident as it is when I fight our enemies. I want to remember every face of every child as I destroy all the terrorists and turn their bodies to ashes. I will not sit back. I have written off my life in my oath to my nation, I am indebted to her a 141 times more now.

We shall avenge every last breath, every last drop of blood.

Every bomb that we target these hell bound terrorists with, will convey a message from the children of Pakistan, that they will not bend, and that they will stand up again. We shall rise.

Won’t forget.

Won’t forgive.

May the Lord give me the strength to uphold the promise I made to my mothers.

Photo provided by author

It’s a bit of a crazy idea but one that has received a fair bit of media coverage in recent days, with articles in both the New York Times and The Guardian.

In short, it is claimed that asking a set of 36 questions developed in a 20 year-old behavioural science study will lead to instant love, even between total strangers.

Researchers Arthur Aron and his team asked strangers to take turns answering a series of 36 questions and end by staring into each other’s eyes for four minutes.

Twenty years ago their original experiment actually resulted in a wedding between the two participants six months after the study.

Set I

1. Given the choice of anyone in the world, whom would you want as a dinner guest?

2. Would you like to be famous? In what way?

3. Before making a telephone call, do you ever rehearse what you are going to say? Why?

4. What would constitute a “perfect” day for you?

5. When did you last sing to yourself? To someone else?

6. If you were able to live to the age of 90 and retain either the mind or body of a 30-year-old for the last 60 years of your life, which would you want?

7. Do you have a secret hunch about how you will die?

8. Name three things you and your partner appear to have in common.

9. For what in your life do you feel most grateful?

10. If you could change anything about the way you were raised, what would it be?

11. Take four minutes and tell your partner your life story in as much detail as possible.

12. If you could wake up tomorrow having gained any one quality or ability, what would it be?

Set II

1. If a crystal ball could tell you the truth about yourself, your life, the future or anything else, what would you want to know?

2. Is there something that you’ve dreamed of doing for a long time? Why haven’t you done it?

3. What is the greatest accomplishment of your life?

4. What do you value most in a friendship?

5. What is your most treasured memory?

6. What is your most terrible memory?

7. If you knew that in one year you would die suddenly, would you change anything about the way you are now living? Why?

8. What does friendship mean to you?

9. What roles do love and affection play in your life?

10. Alternate sharing something you consider a positive characteristic of your partner. Share a total of five items.

11. How close and warm is your family? Do you feel your childhood was happier than most other people’s?

12. How do you feel about your relationship with your mother?

Set III

1. Make three true “we” statements each. For instance, “We are both in this room feeling ... “

2. Complete this sentence: “I wish I had someone with whom I could share ... “

3. If you were going to become a close friend with your partner, please share what would be important for him or her to know.

4. Tell your partner what you like about them; be very honest this time, saying things that you might not say to someone you’ve just met.

5. Share with your partner an embarrassing moment in your life.

6. When did you last cry in front of another person? By yourself?

7. Tell your partner something that you like about them already.

8. What, if anything, is too serious to be joked about?

9. If you were to die this evening with no opportunity to communicate with anyone, what would you most regret not having told someone? Why haven’t you told them yet?

10. Your house, containing everything you own, catches fire. After saving your loved ones and pets, you have time to safely make a final dash to save any one item. What would it be? Why?

11. Of all the people in your family, whose death would you find most disturbing? Why?

12. Share a personal problem and ask your partner’s advice on how he or she might handle it. Also, ask your partner to reflect back to you how you seem to be feeling about the problem you have chosen.

The idea is intriguing – particularly to the many people here whose marriages will inevitably be “arranged”.

If you are of a marriageable age, chances are that you have had to field your fair share of rishtas. Arranged marriages may be traditional here but that does not make them any less daunting.

Aunties are quick to point out that an arranged marriage doesn’t mean saying goodbye to the idea of conjugal love. They say that you are more likely to find happiness with someone who’s been screened by your nearest and dearest. Certainly older generations are testament to the fact that love can grow, even between people who meet on their wedding day.

Luckily, modern arranged marriages tend to allow more room for maneuver, with prospective brides and grooms being given the chance to get to know each other a little. This brings its own challenges however. Some families are reluctant to allow too many meetings, and many insist on having a chaperone present. Even if your family is very liberal, meeting a prospective spouse is awkward.

So could these questions help you out in a tea trolley situation?

Could asking someone about the last time he or she cried or how happy his or her childhood was help you find love? What will your aunties say if you spend four minutes staring into each other’s eyes?

What’s key about Aron’s study and the recent follow-ups is the notion that it debunks the notion of “The One”, the romantic ideal that there is one perfect person for everyone. Even the Guardian’s guinea pigs, who felt no spark, felt that, given the right circumstances and two people who are both looking for love, these questions might indeed breed romance. The idea that there are many people you could fall in love is one that fits neatly into the whole arranged marriage scenario. But can any questions really help you find love?

If you’re the decidedly uncomfortable position of meeting a potential spouse, chances are that you will gather the courage to ask about your “deal-breakers”. Whether it’s drinking, smoking, wives working or joint families, everyone has key points that they want to make sure of in an arranged scenario. But what about romance? How do you gauge if this is someone you could fall in love with? That’s where this questionnaire comes in handy.

At first glance the questions seem fairly ordinary. They start off innocuously enough, breaking the ice, and gradually become more intimate. However once you actually start the process of answering them with another person, you realise that the process is very revealing. It tells you a lot about a person, their motivations and their character. The progression of sharing your dreams, experiences and aspirations also engenders a feeling of familiarity and closeness. However, if you’re scoping out an arranged marriage, perhaps you need to go a little further.

It may seem clinical but, as long as there's some basic chemistry, maybe love can wait. The things you want to gauge are a person's honesty, their flexibility, how they deal with conflict and setbacks. Do you have similar ideas about and expectations from marriage? Can you see a way to make a framework for mutual trust and respect? Ultimately these are the things that form the basis of a happy marriage.

So once this ice is broken, what else should you be asking? Here are a few ideas.

1. Ask about his or her parents’ marriage? Are they compatible? How did they meet? How do they come to decisions? Is there anything you'd do differently in your own marriage?

Whatever people may say, some of their expectations are governed by what they have seen growing up. Whether you realise it or not, your parents' marriage affects your own expectations of marriage

1. Ask about the last best evening they had with their friends. This will tell you a lot about how they like to unwind

2. Where do you see yourself in 20 years time? Yes it's a bit of a job interview question but if you are going to be spending your life with someone it's important to know their goals.

3. Do they take time out for themselves away from their family? How do they spend this time?

4. What do you expect from your spouse and your marriage? This is perhaps the most vital question – we make assumptions about other people all the time but there is no substitute for actually listening to them. You may be surprised.

As for yourself, be honest. Even the best, most romantic and passionate marriages involve compromise. You don't want to make things hard for yourself from the beginning by pretending to be something you're not.

So will you fall in love with them at the end of the process? If you’re both looking for love and are inherently compatible, this may be a good start. At the very least you can mitigate the dreadful awkwardness of those rishta meetings. These 36 questions may lead to the funniest, most exhilarating tea-trolley situations ever.

You may even make a friend or two.

Who won 2014 in Pakistan?

By Ahmer Naqvi and Hassan Cheema

Welcome to the “Who Won 2014 in Pakistan” blog, which uses cutting-edge science and advanced sabermetrics to determine which person, event or phenomenon was the winner of the previous year.

The idea for this competition is from the American website Grantland, which does its own version for the USA. The competition begins by identifying nominees across different fields, which were:

1. Sports

Shahid Afridi | Misbah-ul-Haq | Pakistan Hockey Team

2. Film & TV

Fahad Mustafa | Fawad Khan | Hamza Ali Abbasi

3. Music

Ayyan | Asrar | Sajjad Ali

4. Media and Movements

Mubasher Lucman | Reham Khan | Malala Yousufzai

5. Politics

Imran Khan | ASWJ | General Raheel Sharif

6. Internet Culture

Imaan Sheikh | Gullu Butt | Meera Sex Tape | #GoNawazGo

7. Literature

Bilal Tanweer | Saba Imtiaz | Omar Shahid Hamid

All the categories other than Internet Culture got three nominees each. Since this is a blog, we let the internet have four nominees. Along with these, we also chose two more entrants – a wild card (Najam Sethi) and the defending champion from 2013 (you can read on how Aamir Liaquat won that here).

Once we had chosen the competitors, we searched each on Google, and used the number of search results to determine a hierarchical seeding system: 1. Imran Khan | 2. Malala Yousufzai | 3. Go Nawaz Go | 4. Pakistan Hockey team (the outlier) | 5. Shahid Afridi | 6. Sajjad Ali | 7. Meera Sex Tape | 8. Fawad Khan | 9. Misbahul Haq | 10. Fahad Mustafa | 11. Najam Sethi | 12. Raheel Sharif | 13. Aamir Liaquat | 14. Reham Khan | 15. Hamza Ali Abbasi | 16. Mubasher Lucman | 17. Ayyan | 18. Omar Shahid | 19. ASWJ | 20. Gullu Butt | 21. Imaan Sheikh | 22. Saba Imtiaz | 23. Asrar (actually higher but there’s some Turkish singer named Asrar too. So we searched for 'Asrar Coke Studio') | 24. Bilal Tanweer

The nominees then faced off in one-to-one matchups, where we made largely spurious and intangible calls for why one deserved to beat the other.

Round 1

Ayyan vs Mubasher Lucman

Our first matchup has a highly ranked Ayyan versus a surprisingly low-seeded Mubsaher Lucman. It was a fabulous year for Ayyan, who had already cemented her position in the past few years as the top model in the country. This year though, she decided to branch out her talents and move into the world of music.

Since being good looking is the only criteria for pop music these days, Ayyan’s autotuned voice with Caucasian-rapper and generic paeans to partying led to one mediocre song – You and I– but then she dropped her second single, Making Dollar$. The song reveled in its shallowness, and was terribly addictive. A true measure of its hold was the fact that its Soundcloud page (audio only, no video of the ravishing Ayyan) crossed over one million plays – 200,000 more than Sajjad Ali’s Har Zulm on Coke Studio, and far more than almost any other Pakistani musician.

But even though her hit single made everyone end up looking like a fool, Ayyan’s year doesn’t quite compare to the one-man-channel-cum-crusade that was Mubasher Lucman.

Despite being exposed as a lifafa only a year ago, Mubasher led the charge of the lifafa-callers and matched Ayyan in how often he was shared on our social media timelines. Ayyan was Making Dollars, but none of those came from the backing of Pakistan’s most powerful quarters.

Winner: Mubasher Lucman

Misbahul Haq vs Bilal Tanweer

Bilal Tanweer can probably relate to Misbah a little bit, given how the author has managed the impossible – writing a lyrical, fascinatingly complex yet fragile novel on the madness that is Karachi – and yet he came in lowest for Google searches out of all our nominees. Like Misbah, true class didn't translate into popularity in his case.

Bilal’s novel, The Scatter Here Is Too Great, won the Shakti Bhatt award which was picked up previously by Jamil Ahmed and Mohammad Hanif. He also picked up rave reviews in The Guardian and The New York Times, and is in running for the DSC prize for South Asian literature. The accolades themselves can’t quite capture what a marvelously ambitious work the novel is, which captures Karachi’s sense of disparate-yet-overlapping spheres of reality through interweaving short stories.

But Bilal did not get a chance to equal the record of one of the all-time-greats in a cathartic act whose swiftness and brutality decimated a toxic and pervasive perception. That crown was instead Misbah's. For scoring a Test century as fast as Viv Richards, Misbah manages to win over Bilal.

Winner: Misbahul Haq

General Raheel Sharif vs Imaan Sheikh

As I write this, one of the leading magazines in the country has declared Raheel Sharif their person of the year.

It makes sense too. Sharif, a relative unknown a year ago has changed the paradigm of Pakistani politics. Those who, for a decade, have never ceased to talk about “our wayward brothers”, have now suddenly developed a lust for Taliban blood. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg – on paper, this last year, Raheel Sharif took on the Taliban, the civilian government and the “independent” media; and won every battle.

Or at least that’s what the narrative suggests. We have learned that no one – absolutely no one – has the power to build and alter narratives quite like our brothers in khaki can.

One of the two writers of this bracket was convinced that Raheel Sharif would be one of the three favourites for the tournament, but he was shown the light by the other. Sharif took on Geo and yet Geo is still one of the leading channels in the country, despite a whole summer of ostracising. He took on Nawaz and returned with not even a soft coup. He, thankfully, took on the Taliban, but the year ends with more checkposts and fear than it started with.

Perhaps, if December 2014 really does turn out to be “the turning point” we can talk about him being one of the great winners, but right now, he is the COAS equivalent of Shahid Afridi, supremely popular and populist yet when you scratch the surface, you aren’t exactly filled with confidence.

The problem for Raheel is that he isn’t just taking on Imaan Sheikh, he is also taking on his predecessors: how Musharraf challenged Geo, how every COAS has dealt with civilian governments, and so on. Surely, his achievements should be judged based on the infrastructure he has at his disposal.

Those that claimed that Kayani was a genius for not attacking the Taliban and letting the civilians and media be, are now calling Raheel a genius for attacking the Taliban and finally taking the civilians and media to task; sadly for the Army fanboys, it doesn’t work like that.

But perhaps most importantly, on a head-to-head battle, Imaan managed something in 2014 that General Raheel Sharif and all his predecessors have always wanted to do – she conquered India.

So, almost as a matter of principle, Imaan Sheikh advances; and for once in Pakistan the farishtas can’t change the result.

Winner: Imaan Sheikh

Aamir Liaquat vs Gullu Butt

Last year’s champion, the epitome of all that is modern middle class Pakistani against everything that middle class despises, Aamir Liaquat started the year as the undisputed king of Pakistani television – here was a man who had survived scandals ranging from allegedly propagating the killing of minorities to making a sailor blush with the bite of his tongue. Not literally, of course.

But 2014 was a year too far for him – collateral in the khakis v Jang group battle, he switched over to Express but never could regain his Geo shine. Fahad Mustafa suddenly became the Ramazan posterboy and ALH was left trying to force-feed mangoes to his guests.

His decline can be best illustrated by the fact that his explanatory tirade, using the crutch of classism, to defend the “aam khayega aam” episode, somehow felt less convincing than when he’d tried to defend giving babies away on live television.

When force-feeding becomes more difficult to explain than baby trafficking, then you’ve had a bad year.

His year-end beef with Junaid Jamshed earned him some brownie points but alas, last year’s champion just stagnated as others improved (on a sidenote, Pakistan: where religious televangelists have beefs reminiscent of '90s hip hop). He was once the pioneer, now he’s just one in a crowd, and not even someone that stands out particularly.

On the other hand Gullu Butt became the breakthrough star of the year – a man, a state of being, an insult and a confirmation of all our biases; he obviously goes through, and it’s gonna be hard stopping him, especially with that cane in his hand.

So with yet another shock, 2013’s winner is 2014’s first round casualty. 2014 is indeed looking in rip-roaring form.

Winner: Gullu Butt

Reham Khan vs ASWJ

Reham Khan managed a low-key and graceful entry into Pakistan’s rabid mediasphere earlier this year, hosting her own show on Dawn News, having previously worked as a weather girl at the BBC. Her understated style won her quite a few fans, and that might have been enough to grab a spot on this list given how so many other major anchors had forgettable or disastrous years.

But what really shoved her into the spotlight, in an ultimately classless way, were the incessant rumours that she had been secretly married to PTI chief and forever-most-eligible-bachelor, Imran Khan. The rumours would often have Imran’s tigers and tigresses hissing in anger and envy, while tabloids from the Indus to the Thames added all sorts of conjecture to their column inches.

Throughout it all, Reham dealt with the unremitting intrusiveness and innuendo in a dignified way, which is good for her as a person, but no match for the poisonous Ahle-Sunna Wal Jamaa aka Sipah-e-Sahaba aka notorious extremist killers. After being courted by all and sundry in the 2013 elections, the ASWJ spent the last twelve months ruthlessly expanding their scope for murder, but also plumping up as allies for all sorts of important people in Pakistan.

Unfortunately, this was always going to be a win for the ASWJ.

Winner: ASWJ

Fahad Mustafa vs Omar Shahid

For anyone currently aged over thirty and hailing from Karachi, the idea of a novel calling out the oppression and dadagiri of the MQM would have sounded impossible for most of their lives. The mere ability of The Prisoner to exist is in itself no mean feat. Written by Omar Shahid Hamid, a top ranking ex-cop from the city, it does a fascinating job in creating a context for the murky politics and violence that occur as various power centers jostle for control of the city.

Equally significantly, the book does a great job in putting together a narrative of the much maligned, much targeted Karachi police. The Prisoner was a pulsating and revelatory read (though rather average in terms of writing style).

However, despite lauding bravery, the world rewards the entertainer far more, and no one had the sort of year in entertainment that Fahad Mustafa did – not only was he a refreshing change in his super hit Ramazan show, but he also translated his successful TV career into being the star of the year’s biggest cinematic hit.

So this one goes to Fahad.

Winner: Fahad Mustafa

Najam Sethi vs Saba Imtiaz

There is a feeling that last year’s exercise in determining a winner for the year was hopelessly flawed since Najam Sethi wasn’t even included in the nominees.

2013 was a year where Sethi sahab came across as a genuine Renaissance Man. 2014 was far quieter for him, as there was a cooling down in the controversies arising from his role as caretaker Chief Minister of Punjab in the 2013 elections, as well as his position as PCB chairman.

Saba Imtiaz, on the other hand had a breakout year, as the Karachi-based journalist released her novel “Karachi! You’re Killing Me” which showcased the enigmatic city through the framework of a Bridget Jones-inspired narrative.

Saba, who had spent several years reporting on some of Karachi’s most notorious and pressing social and political issues, was unapologetic about her fun, brash novel being branded as ‘chick-lit’, and judging by the Google rankings, her book was certainly talked about the most out of any release this year.

But for all of that, Najam Sethi managed to hold off challenges from far more resourceful competitors, and so he wins this one as well.

Winner: Najam Sethi

Hamza Ali Abbasi vs Asrar

When the year began, Asrar was a musician that the internet-hipsters knew about, but wasn’t quite on anyone else’s radar.

With the mainstream no longer existent in Pakistan and quality music increasingly relegated to niches on the internet, the sheer breadth of Asrar’s journey is remarkable. Appearing in this year’s Coke Studio, his song Sab Akho Ali Ali was one of the season’s breakout hits. More than just being a voice, Asrar oozed the confidence and aura of a the pro contemporary Pakistani rockstar.

Given how central music is to Pakistani culture, that is no mean feat. And yet, music is increasingly the Cinderella of the media landscape – and the pre-Prince Charming Cinderella at that. The lazy stepsisters have been getting all the hype, money and attention while no one respects music. TV and increasingly, Film is where its at these days, and riding on the warm afterglow of his star turns in Waar and Main Hoon Shahid Afridi last year, Hamza Ali Abbasi really upped the ante in 2014.

For all of Asrar’s talent and charisma, the world is a shallow place and Hamza is the winner.

Winner: Hamza Ali Abbasi

So that’s the end of Round One, where we are left with Mubasher Lucman, Imaan Sheikh, Gull Butt, Fahad Mustafa, ASWJ, Misbah-ul-Haq and Hamza Ali Abbasi as the winners. Each of these now make it into the Round of 16, where the top-ranked nominees await them.

Now, on to the Round of 16.

Round of 16

The previous round saw quite a few upsets, with last year’s winner Aamir Liaquat unceremoniously butted out by Gullu Butt. Another shocker was Imaan Sheikh defeating General Raheel Sharif, who was Man of the Year for lesser discerning publications, but was a first-round exit for us.

But the true heavyweight clashes start now, so let’s get on with it.

Fahad Mustafa v Meera’s Sex Tape

In 2014, the television industry finally shed its need to incorporate religion into Ramazan shows, and embraced its destiny. In Pakistan, TV and Ramazan are just commercial enterprises, and it was good to see both accepting that.

Moreover, Pakistan also had its first proper masala movie in the post-Khuda Ke Liye age. Waar was brilliant as long as you were a launda of a certain kind, Zinda Bhaag too was special, but Na Maloom Afraad is probably where our new cinema will end up taking its inspiration from. Apparently, you can make a commercial, popular movie while still appealing to several demographics.

And at the centre of all this was Fahad Mustafa. A struggling actor that one couldn’t even recognise a year ago was now the leader of two paradigm shifts in the country. He beat Aamir Liaquat AND Shaan this year (one tends to forget that NMA was released on the same day, Eid, as Shaan’s O21) and he did that all while looking like the boy next door.

What’s more, in his final Ramazan show he had Junaid Jamshed, a proper heavyweight on his own, as his sidekick on the show – Junaid Jamshed as a sidekick! He also stole the movie that had a typically excellent Javed Sheikh, Urwa Hocane doing the perfect girl next door AND a Mehwish Hayat item song.

But if Fahad was reviving traditional media, Meera breathed life into a new one. Her sex tape made WhatsApp a ubiquitous app and also became the first viral video that did not need Youtube or any of its replacements. Meera’s video was a harbinger of the future.

And perhaps best of all, Meera said that video was a fake since it was made by people wearing masks of her and her husband. Yep, she said that.

Meera’s Sex Tape wins.

Winner: Meera’s Sex Tape

Hamza Ali Abbasi vs Malala

After doing the sidekick routine in 2013’s biggest hits – Waar and Main Hoon Shahid Afridi– Hamza decided to be the main man in 2014.

Over the past year, Pyaray Afzal became the biggest hit in the country produced this side of Anatolia, and he was announced as the lead in the remake of Maula Jatt.

But along with film and TV, Hamza also managed to land a starring role in the year’s biggest media hit – the Azadi March. Showing up regularly in the Islamabad dharnas, Hamza was soon a regular on the most important stage in Pakistan – the container.

As for his opponent, Malala remains the best representative that Pakistan has ever had abroad (well, at least since Patras Bokhari). And Hamza Ali Abbasi was amongst the many, many idiots who questioned her veracity, and indulged in the tiresome ‘what-about-Edhi’ debate. Soon after the Nobel win, people were tweeting screenshots of Hamza’s Facebook status, which was edited several times to go from all-out hostility to cautious compliments.

Hamza’s edits were testament to the power of that wonderful girl, and how her message is only gaining in strength. Also, just in case the fanboys get upset, a reminder that Abbasi won the ARY Film Award for Best Supporting Actor while Malala won the Nobel Peace Prize.

Game, set, match to Ms Yousufzai.

Winner: Malala

Mubasher Lucman vs Imran

A proper heavyweight fight this. The most popular man on Pakistani social media, whose keyboard warriors stop at nothing to defend him and gleefully look to sully the names of his opponents; whose stock hasn’t looked to dip in forever versus a guy called Imran Khan.

Somehow, it feels appropriate that these two would face each other since both of them owe a lot of their success this year to each other.

Imran was the morally right crusader taking the stand against the corrupt elite from atop a container in Islamabad. Lucman was the morally right crusader taking the long stand against the corrupt elite from a studio in Islamabad.

Both tried to distance themselves from their own pasts with those corrupt elites (although it was easier for one than the other), and yet, both were successful in doing that not just with their fans but with the general public as well.

Obviously, Imran wins, because Imran could still have had the same year he had without Lucman, but Lucman couldn’t have had his greatest successes without Imran.

Despite the loss, he deserves infinite (and grudging) credit for reinventing himself this year. It’s barely two years since he proved to be the very worst of Pakistani media – the very embodiment of lifafa culture – and yet he’s now a crusader against all those things. The same lot that once posted his videos with Malik Riaz now post all of his exposes regarding that corrupt elite while presenting him to be some sort of a cross between Edward Snowden and Stephen Colbert.

This is the sort of reinvention that Prince would be proud of.

Alas, it’s not enough to beat Imran, who marches on.

Winner: Imran Khan

Pakistan hockey vs Gullu Butt

It was a year of transformation for both of these competitors and a year when they both touched the extremes. Gullu Butt went from being given space by a cordon of police officers to unfurl his his artistic side, to being put in prison for a decade. Pakistan hockey started the year having failed, for the first time in its storied history, to qualify for the IHF World Cup and ended it by reaching their first final of the Champions Trophy in sixteen years – it’s been an extraordinary journey.

The story of Pakistan hockey this year is one of neglect. Perhaps the only people left blameless from this are the ones who’ve had to share the most abuse – the players. The PHF, a body which can afford to have a cavalcade of cars at its headquarters, could not find the money to send the team to the Champions Trophy, and thus a private sponsor had to step in.

And yet, despite all these obstacles, they managed to beat the world no. 2 and longtime nemesis Netherlands in the quarterfinal (how they got there is another story altogether). Then after three days of unrelenting and unprecedented pressure, they won the biggest match of their lives by beating India, in India, with a second last minute winner.

It could have been the moment that Pakistan hockey finally awoke from its stupor and realised its potential.

Instead, the hockey became a sideshow to the insane amount of sensationalising and hysteria that accompanied their ‘vigorous’ celebrations. The reactions were certainly over-the-top and in one case dangerously rude, but how that became the lead story ahead of Pakistan’s biggest win over India this year (and I include cricket in this) is a lesson in how to mess up even when you’ve won.

Gullu Butt advances here because the PHF let the players down. As it always will.

Winner: Gullu Butt

Fawad Khan vs Misbahul Haq

In 2013, Misbah was putting up superhuman numbers in ODIs and doing well in Tests, but his team kept going nowhere. In 2014, he seemed to have lost all form in coloured clothing and spent almost the entire year with his captaincy under open threat from a Shahid Afridi coup.

Yet, he also secured his legacy as one of Pakistan’s great Test captains by securing the most number of wins as captain. The fact that the record was hastened by a thrashing of Australia – twenty years overdue – was spectacular. And finally, Misbah really took the cake by smashing records for the fastest Test 50 and 100. But the detractors continued to harp and moan, and Misbah’s record in away matches was a legitimate concern.

All of that is a problem in this matchup, since Fawad Khan racked up some great numbers with his away form. His film, Khoobsurat, did well in India but really took Pakistan, and several other diaspora-friendly locations by storm. And while Misbah’s exploits were not enough to oust his apparent nemesis (rhymes with Gafridi), Fawad Khan comfortably outdid all the other Pakistanis making their splash in B-Town in the recent past.

Goodbye Misbah.

Winner: Fawad Khan

Shahid Afridi vs Imaan Sheikh

Up until May this year, Imaan was a well-known blogger on the Pakistani internet, a title which at its best meant very little, and even lesser a few years ago.

In the final few days of 2013, Imaan had posted a meme-laden rewind of the Bollywood mega-hit Dhoom 3.

Her post went viral, which was a big deal but not quite Taher Shah or Awais Lovely. But in May, Imaan posted a rewind of the '90s classic Kuch Kuch Hota Hai, and suddenly the floodgates opened. Like the Beatles invading America, Imaania swept across India, where comedy has always been a struggling art compared to us.

Suddenly, Imaan was being interviewed in newspapers and credited for perfecting, if not creating, the modern movie review format. With her prowess in reimagining Bollywood scenes in LOLspeak, Imaan was Kubrick-like in her mastery with GIFs. The newly launched Buzzfeed India snapped her up faster than a chest-piece at a shaadi dinner, and Imaan’s movie reviews on the site were central to its virulence. By the end of 2014, Imaan joined top-rated anchors and unrateable politicians in having the coveted blue-tick mark appear next to her social media profile.

Of course, her competitor could take one look at her success in India, and legions of newly found fraanshippers, and dismiss it with a whip of his peroxide hair.

After all, Imaan’s posts never hit Ashwin for two last-over sixes. It might be possible to defeat the Chief of Army Staff in Pakistan, as Imaan did in the last round, but it’s almost impossible to stop Afridi.

Winner: Shahid Afridi

#GoNawazGo vs ASWJ

The ASWJ is like the hero’s wretched and unlikeable friend in a rom-com who is assimilated and accepted by the film’s climax, even though the plot doesn’t really explain how.

From being a banned organisation, and still being an unabashed killer of Shias, ASWJ moved front and centre into the Pakistani mainstream, with at least three stunning symbolic wins:

The first was when Geo took on the ISI, and they were (allegedly) at the front of the pro-ISI protests. Then they were officially part of the massive counter-rally held in Islamabad to support the sitting government. And finally, their clout in Karachi began to increase to the point that the city’s erstwhile theykadars, the MQM, seemed to have cut deals with them.

While such success wouldn’t be bad for a conventional right-wing party, it is deplorable and shocking that an unapologetic terrorist mob has managed to do the same. The ASWJ were leading the post-Peshawar grieving and promises of retribution, and they were holding out rallies in defence of the beleaguered Abdul Aziz when Jibran Nasir took him on.

But while it could’ve beaten most other challengers, it is squared up against one of THE phenomenons of the year. #GoNawazGo was transcendental in 2014, and thankfully, the ASWJ hasn’t reached that stage yet.

Winner: #GoNawazGo

Najam Sethi vs Sajjad Ali

Two big names and yet a rather low-key clash between the two of them. Sajjad Ali can easily take the route of his few remaining peers and rehash old classics or sing cookie-cutter songs for brands, but to his great credit, he refuses to do so.

This was another year of some great songs by the maestro, who marked a return to Coke Studio and released the brilliant Chaar Kabootar for the OST of Namaloom Afraad.

But his biggest hit in terms of plays on Soundcloud was his reworking of Hur Zulm for Coke Studio, and it was a sad reminder that mainstream audiences are extremely averse to anything but the nostalgic and the familiar. A clear example of that was the fact that a host of mediocre tracks for OSTs of dramas were bigger hits during the year in terms of play counts online.

Najam Sethi’s year grabbed even fewer headlines than Sajjad Ali, but his star remained on the up. His triumphs in both fighting off the civil war in the PCB as well as bringing short-term stability to Pakistan’s floundering place in the global game were carried off without too much fanfare, an achievement in itself.

Sajjad’s year was more poignant and heroic, but Najam Sethi's had more wins.

Winner: Najam Sethi

Quarterfinals

Shahid Afridi vs Gullu Butt

Two men who understand the value of mindless but overt violence more than most, and both are smarter than their greatest GIFs would suggest.

For a decade, we’ve talked about being Afridi, or being a Pathan, as a state of being. This year, Gullu Butt became both a euphemism and representation for a different state of being.

What happened in Gujranwala or Faisalabad either side of the Islamabad dharna was a certain part of the N-league network doing what they’ve done for decades – being Gullu Butts. This year, was the coming out party for the Butt mindset and the proverbial Indian summer for the Afridian.

On paper, it seems an obvious victory for Afridi. He played the key role in two of the greatest recent ODI wins against India and Bangladesh in the Asia Cup but it was what he did off the field that really stood out. This really was the year Afridi laid the foundations for conquering the country after his final retirement. He built a hospital in Kohat, his partnership with Haier produced the desired results and his meeting with the political and military elite showed his star power.

But the year ended with Afridi failing to get what he covets most, the captaincy, despite his best Machiavellian machinations. Gullu Butt ended the year on bail for an 11-year sentence, but he too has laid the foundation of being the overlord someday in the future.

At this stage of the bracket, it’s the smallest differences which decide contests – Butt didn’t lose anything in particular, Afridi failed to catch his Moby Dick.

Gullu wins.

Winner: Gullu Butt

Imran Khan vs Fawad Khan

Those who have seen and outraged against Homeland’s current season would have a clear idea of the deplorable way in which Pakistan is depicted in the American media.

But while the American dalliance with our country has been stop-start, Pakistani stereotypes are far better developed and more diverse in the once-colonial world.

The impossibly sexy, exotic Pakistani male was a title Imran Khan has enjoyed since his heyday, while Fawad Khan seems to have done the same in India at least. Khoobsurat was a triumph in all that it avoided – it wasn’t banned, it didn’t get any fatwas, and it didn’t tank miserably. There were no burnt effigies or claims of illicit affairs, and instead the film turned around a profit, and was arguably the most successful crossover for a Pakistani actor in Bollywood.

Fawad’s greater triumph might have been the screening of Humsafar in India, which could go a long way towards securing his status as a heartthrob.

But there is only one Khan in Pakistan these days who matters, and no amount of smouldering pouts by Fawad can change that. Imran starred in and (at least officially) directed his own blockbuster, and despite a plot full of holes and an unsatisfactory climax, it was the biggest hit of the summer.

The very fact that Imran at 62 is competing with Fawad for being the most likely target for a teenager’s crush is testament to his prowess. Kaptaan with an unequivocal win in this one.

Winner: Imran Khan

#GoNawazGo vs Meera Sex Tape

Here’s a matchup that really puts this competition to the test. Two of 2014’s biggest and most pervasive hits, two entities which were very much of this age we live in, where the ability to disrupt and infect an idea matters more than its larger context.

For example, the sex tape has been around for a decade as a global genre, and one where the person who is possibly the victim of a leak is perceived to have engineered the leak themselves, largely because of the intense attention that it invariably generates.

As noted previously, Meera and Captain Naveed’s defense was outrageous, claiming that the participants onscreen had worn masks. However, given that Aamir Liaquat used only a slightly more sophisticated excuse to explain his nazuk surat-e-haals, perhaps not as surprising.

Meera's video clip marked the national moment where the audience was unfazed enough to move past the gratuity and view it with an ironic or mocking detachment. “Jaanu take off that shirt” genuinely became a pop culture reference, and the entire tape was viewed as a deliberate performance.

But ultimately, this tape was also a typical 15-minute moment – it would define the year, but not the next one. #GoNawazGo also defined 2014, but it was both the product of a contemporary tradition – Go Amreeka/Musharraf/Zardari Go – and also began to exist beyond its immediate context.

The best examples were the phenomenal videos of apoplectic foreigners, channeling their own grievances and frustrations to exhort the Pakistani Prime Minister to resign.

On just viarlity alone, this one goes to #GoNawazGo

Winner: Go Nawaz Go

Najam Sethi vs Malala Yousufzai

Najam Sethi has sort of hobbled into the quarterfinals, aided by two relatively low-key battles with Saba and Sajjad.

It seemed that he would struggle at some point in the draw, and coming up against the #2 seed is just about as difficult as it gets. It doesn’t help that the channel he is part of had a terrible year, which is a rarity, and his main field of interest these days, the cricket team, is about as crazy and thankless as it gets.

Fighting off Zaka Ashraf and melting into the background while remaining influential were both star turns, and the deals with India for two tours are the most opulent of mirages for the future.

But the soft coup of having the Kenyans over for a series backfired spectacularly when the Peshawar attacks happened, and the decision not to postpone Pakistan’s ODI versus New Zealand was callous and poorly handled.

However, there is no shame in losing to someone who embodies one of Pakistan’s most enduring cricketing myths – that teenager from some remote area who rose to change the world.

Malala Yousufzai’s decision to not bunk classes despite having the world’s best excuse – Ma’am can I be excused, I just won the Nobel Peace Prize – was enough to defeat most people in this competition. A cakewalk here for her.

Winner: Malala Yousufzai

Semi Finals

Imran Khan vs Gullu

Imran Khan is forever associated with winning. The cricket World Cup? He won that. A cancer hospital that treats patients for free? He won that. A tsunami of justice and corruption? He won that. What gets forgotten quite easily about Imran is that his wins always come after chastening defeats.

The 1992 World Cup was won, but the 1987 one was lost in front of Imran’s adoring home crowd who had expected him to win it, the same crowd which would fail to elect him from his home in an election 26 years later that he was widely expected to sweep.

And so while he took his container-siege far longer than anyone thought possible, and managed to end it with the perception of gracefulness, 2014 was ultimately not a win for Imran. Trying to defeat a party with a resounding majority just a year into its rule was admirably ambitious, but despite doing his best, Imran came away with nothing.

Still, surely, it should be enough to defeat Gullu Butt? After all, Gullu Butt came to personify everything that Imran was railing against, and he soon became another one of Kaptaan’s pop-culture capturing creations. What truly validated Gullu Butt’s phenomenon was that there were soon a host of other ones, the imitators – Nomi, Pomi and Billu amongst others. Then, apart from being the source of a million memes, he also had a restaurant named and created in his spirit.

And with it started get clearer how Gullu had gotten bigger than just a rally cry. If #GoNawazGo distilled a general discontent with authority, then Gullu Butt was the personification of how the smaller provinces perceived the Noon government in particular, and Punjabis in general – large, rowdy, comical levels of testosterone and slightly dim.

And while we can credit Imran Khan for contextualising him, we must remember that this was Imran’s biggest achievement of the year.

And while from a cultural perspective it is a huge one, the skipper had set himself much grander targets this year. And so, in a shock, it is Gullu Butt who defeats Immy K.

Winner: Gullu Butt

GoNawazGo vs Malala:

While it is a cliché now to talk about how much Pakistanis hate Malala, the sheer scale and speed of her journey across the Pakistani mainstream was remarkable.

Last year, when Malala was nominated, not only was there a relentless bombardment of “what about Edhi”, there was almost no public ownership of her heroism and widespread condemnation.

Yet, when she won the award with Kailash Satyagrari this year, the congratulations from the establishment came thick and fast, most notably perhaps (given his base), by Imran Khan.

Yes, there was the asinine “I am not Malala Day”, but this year it was people like those who were the loony fringe, rather than Malala supporters being called that.

Of course, this is not to say that she is some massively popular symbol in Pakistan, but the change she accomplished was remarkable precisely because she did not seek to change it directly. Instead, she kept being who she was, and the haters were forced to come around.

But the genius of her rival in this round, #GoNawazGo, is that it crystallises all sorts of hater-behaviour into one catchphrase.

Plumber hasn’t shown up despite promising to do so? #GoNawazGo.
Bae’s mom thinks you’re not a good match? #GoNawazGo.
Failed chemistry again this year? #GoNawazGo.

And it wasn’t all Nawaz Sharif’s fault or the PTI’s genius alone – Go XYZ Go has such a long history in Pakistan now that we don’t even need to correct the fact that this is usually a slogan meant to support someone.

From Amreeka to Musharraf and via Zardari, #GoNawazGo is about channeling all your frustrations into an amorphous mass of blame that place on the shoulders of the guy supposed to be running the country.

So infectious was it that people started writing #GoNawazGo on fruits, baby bottoms and just about every currency on the planet. Each of those protests were articulations of anger that Nawaz often had little to do with, but that was why this slogan was such a hit.

The fact, however, is that the reason behind its rise will also be the reason for its fall – #GoNawazGo was huge, but it will be overtaken by whoever is in charge next, and was forever driven by a vague sense of frustration in the first place. It doesn’t even hope to compare to the courageous clarity of Malala, and she takes this win.

Winner: Malala Yousufzai

Final

Gullu Butt vs Malala Yousufzai

So here were are. The final of Who Won Pakistan in 2015 pits its most famously viral person-as-icon versus its most polarising person-of-substance.

On the one hand, Gullu Butt swept the popular imagination, and captured not just a contemporary political issue, but a much wider sense of resentment and misunderstood perceptions of the majority province. On the other hand, Malala became the reason that millions of Pakistanis flying to international destinations would have something to finally change the topic when the airport security looks at their passports.

Gullu Butt was the Pakistan all Pakistanis think the rest are like, while Malala was the Pakistan that most Pakistanis can’t agree that they should be like.

Gullu Butt was violence, but sanitised, TV-friendly, almost inconsequential violence. It was the sort of violence that was bad enough to be referenced in political debates and hilarious enough to put up on memes. Malala was agenda, whether it was her own tireless crusade to force us to give up our criminal negligence towards education, or viewed as an imposition of foreign thoughts by those who struggle to give up western ‘innovations’ themselves, like the computer, smart phone and the internet, which instead serve as a pulpit for their contradiction.

As you can see by our choices so far, we have avoided sentimentality in adjudicating these matchups. After all, the patently obnoxious Amir Liaquat won this last year.

But despite Gullu Butt’s giant-slaying in previous rounds, he doesn’t hope to stand a chance against Malala.

Gullu Butt, for all his current ubiquity, is a symbol of a slightly simpler past, when ‘miscreants’ resembled pehelwans, and not Baitullah. And as much as he is the incarnation of a certain Punjabi bumpkin stereotype, as a symbol there is only so far he can go.

Malala Yousufzai, who is still a teenager, has a long way to go yet, but she’s already overcome a fantastic amount.

After all, long before Aitzaz Hasan and the children of Army Public School, Pakistan used to claim that terrorists don’t attack schoolchildren. They would claim that Malala had staged being shot in the head herself, and that she wanted to bring a bad name to Pakistan. Fortunately, such parhay-likhay jahil are not the ones who need her as an inspiration.

In a country where the majority is under the age of 25, Malala is a symbol of fighting for something simple and essential for any society. She has shown not only the remarkable courage of young Pakistanis, but also shown that a young Pakistani girl can do more about the image of her country than a multitude of expensively remunerated politicians and strategists can.

Indeed, it will become increasingly hard to discuss why Pakistan doesn’t celebrate Malala, because she has become a hero for the world. Those who still can’t see that are advised to make provisions for a breathing apparatus as they continue to bury their head in the sand.

Winner of 2014: Malala Yousufzai

At the best of times, there is chaos at Jinnah Hospital’s emergency ward, and since Karachi is no stranger to violence and accidents, the ward is the busiest in the country.

Amidst the gurneys being wheeled in, Edhi ambulance sirens blaring, relatives wailing, the doctors and nurses calmly carry on their work. It is best to check in stereotypes of government hospitals at the entrance because the ward defies what you and I have come to believe is the norm at such hospitals.

The ward is clean, the instruments are hygienic, the sheets are washed, the attendants are attentive and there is order amongst the chaos. At the centre of it all issuing instructions patiently as she hears the concerns of doctors, patients and their relatives is a formidable woman, Dr Seemi Jamali, shattering yet more stereotypes.

Dr Jamali knew at the age of six that she wanted to be a doctor; it had been her dying mother’s wish and she wanted to make her dream come true. Her journey took off in Nawabshah where she attended the medical school and years later ended up at Jinnah hospital at the behest of her father, who wanted her to work for a government institution.

Also see: In Karachi, hospitals are as dangerous as its streets

As she began work at the hospital, she became determined to turn around the emergency ward.

“We started with small things which led us to big things,” she tells us, “We implemented World Health Organisation rules, adopted the way they gave vaccines, raised money to better our facilities and slowly we began to make the changes we desired.”

Jinnah Hospital’s emergency ward has its own perils, the violence that affects us all every day doesn’t end at its doors.

“There have been various incidents over here.” Dr Jamali tells us. “Often, mobs come brandishing weapons and they are always ready to attack people. We have experienced terrorist attacks over here and we are not trained enough to deal with this kind of stuff, we are trained to be doctors, and that is what we do. We don’t know how to deal with people who are terrorists.”

Dr Jamali was on duty the day the bomb blast occurred at the doors of the hospital in February 2010.

“Our lives are always in danger, and we have often seen our colleagues lose theirs.”

She was injured in a grenade attack at the hospital but that did not deter her or her band of very brave doctors.

“This is not easy work, it’s a 24-hour duty but when a person really connects with his work like I do, then it all seems worthwhile.”

Funnily enough, it’s not the violence that scares Seemi, it’s reptiles. “I am not afraid of much but I am really afraid of lizards,” she tells us with a smile.

In a job like this, one always has to make sacrifices. Dr Jamali has often had to forego time with her family to meet the demands of her work.

“Recently, my younger son has asked me to stay home. When he watches breaking news on television, it affects him because he knows what happens in the city affects my work directly,” she says.

As the day progresses, the media require her to give statements about the latest victims of an attack, relatives demand her attention to know the well-being of their siblings and through it all, Dr Jamali seems unfazed, she attends to each one of them and turns to us to say.

Also read: The real hero: Abid Farooq risks all to defuse bombs

“I am very proud of the fact that I am a woman, because I believe that I am doing something which would be hard for a man to do. I have been spared from violence directly because I am a woman. A man, perhaps, would not have been so lucky.

"If given the chance, I would become a doctor again, I would hope to do a better job than I did this time. I saw some shortcomings within me, and I would hope to avoid them if given a chance again.”

Dr Jamali leads from the front in one of the most implausible of places. Next time you visit, drop in to see which stereotype she can shatter for you!

Published in Dawn, Sunday Magazine, January 18th, 2015

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In just a couple of weeks, thousands of Pakistani youth will sit through one of the most rigorous tests of human memory, in the form of the annual Central Superior Services (CSS) examination. In the exam, they will be asked questions ranging from the absurd to the most absurd, and you can almost be sure that the name of the brother-in-law of the sister of one of the cousins of the premier of a small African republic will be on the paper.

But, sometimes, through sheer luck, you can be tested on a relatively easier topic, for instance say, the name of the Prime Minister of Pakistan.

Under normal circumstances, this would be an absolute freebie of a point; the ‘aspirants’ would only have to recall the results of the last election, promptly mark Mr Nawaz Sharif’s name on the question paper, and then start daydreaming about sticking it to others while sitting in big offices.

This time though, such a query is bound to be a loaded question. Let me explain why.

Also read: A sad day

In a parliamentary system like ours, the prime minister is usually appointed by the political party in majority in the representative assembly. Tradition dictates that the leader of the majority party be bestowed with this honour (though there have been significant diversions from this norm even in recent years).

The prime minister is supposed to lead his cabinet and the country through thick and thin, and ooze a shimmering aura of national unity, so much so that the hearts of the masses are supposed to fill with a warm glow each time they look at their leader.

The premier is supposed to be approachable, so that his/her constituents can share their problems and concerns.

The premier should also have an unblemished reputation of being not only uncorrupt, but also incorruptible. He/she must understand the nuances of the issues and cultures within the territory of the country, and present a clarity of vision in taking initiative towards national reform.

All this is fine and dandy. But now, let us take a small dose of reality.

Explore: ‘From czar-like prime minister to deputy commissioner-type character’

True, Nawaz Sharif’s party was able to gain majority in the Parliament after the 2013 elections, and he became prime minister for the third time. But, is N. Sharif the man who represents all of these qualities?

I will not insult the intellect of the readers by answering this rhetorical question.

In the case that N. Sharif is not the man, who else comes to mind?

Imran Khan certainly presented a viable alternative, but personal qualities aside, his political acumen leaves much to be desired.

So, are there any other takers?

Enter Raheel Sharif.

The civil-military imbalance in Pakistan is an open secret, and multiple generals have intervened in the political setup throughout our history, each one presenting a better set of justifications than the last for doing so.

But what the current Army chief has been able to accomplish is a feat of remarkable genius.

All of the previous coups have been bloodless, but even then, they have been unable to stop the incumbents from leaving their offices kicking and screaming to the high heavens. This time, though, the overthrow has not only been bloodless, it has also, to an extent, been consensual.

Read on: Militarisation

After multiple setbacks exposed the soft underbelly of the ruling regime, perhaps the odds became just a bit too much for N. Sharif.

First, he was straitjacketed on the issue of India.

Then, Musharraf became a no-go area too.

And then, Imran Khan mounted a worthy offense last year, in which he was ultimately unsuccessful. Battered and bruised from these attacks, N. Sharif somehow waded through.

However, surviving such battles leaves a mark.

So after the Peshawar tragedy, the final blow in a plan which had been so long in the making, finally materialised, and N. Sharif crumbled beneath the weight of his own ineptitude.

It is R. Sharif, and not N. Sharif, that commands the loyalty of the armed forces, as well as the nation now.

R. Sharif, and not N. Sharif, took the reins of the pan-national, counter-terrorism strategy, and proceeded to twist everybody’s arm just enough to make them agree to the proposed agenda.

R. Sharif was the one who attended the reopening of that fated branch of the Army Public School, an act no one else has quite been able to successfully pull off.

Also, it is now R. Sharif who goes to pay visits to important foreign heads of state, while N. Sharif is left to ask after the ailing Saudi king.

In turn, foreign leaders and their representatives come and seek R. Sharif’s audience.

Observers worried about a lack of civilian oversight aside, the Army chief has fast risen to be the star lighting the path to glory for a large segment of the population. Be ready to see his photo in a lot of newspapers, and on the back of a lot of cargo trucks alike.

See: Democracy vs authoritarianism vs terrorism

As it stands, the important stuff – foreign policy, security, and soon, the economy – will be overseen by the better Sharif, while the lesser Sharif looks over the mundane administrative affairs. It is the senior Sharif who will now decide the fate of the country from behind the shadows, while the inferior Sharif sits helplessly on his ceremonial throne, entombed forever in its grandeur.

The cherry on the top is that R. Sharif has an unblemished reputation too.

Not that anyone could have criticised a general for anything; that kind of treatment is reserved only for the politicians. Even retired army personnel cannot be held accountable for their actions, as the Musharraf case has so aptly demonstrated, and R. Sharif is as clean as they come.

Part of the reason why we have a sitting duck in place of the PM, while someone else guides the way is because we as a nation put a lot of stock in everything just working, even if on its bare minimum capacity.

As it happens, the cries for reform are drowned in the cacophony of mediocrity on a regular basis. And then, when the country is hit by crisis after crisis, imperatives of democracy have to take a back seat to basic service delivery, which must then be actualised one way or the other, at any cost.

In such an atmosphere, we Pakistanis, prefer our heroes to be more lock, stock, and two smoking barrels than being just a beautiful mind.

Also read: New Nawaz

Furthermore, the reason Army personnel are called on to rescue the civilians in every crisis – natural or otherwise – is because of their discipline, which is inculcated through years of training.

Army men rise through the ranks after gaining experience in the martial-administrative affairs, and only after they have proved to be the best among their fellows. In comparison, think of what you really need to do in order to become an elected politician: the right ethnicity, the right religion, and the right kind of money.

So, if recent times are any indication, we can safely bid adieu to N. Sharif and welcome our new saviour. Worried about political vision and civilian oversight? You must be joking.

But as far as the ones sitting through the CSS exam are concerned, they should just stick with the narrative and circle N. Sharif’s name if the question is asked.

That exam is a test of memory, not intellect.

Last week, I had a chance to fulfill one of my lesser fantasies as a Pakistan cricket fan – I was invited to attend the launch of Pakistan’s official World Cup 2015 jersey.

Hosted by #PepsiCricket and organised by #JBnJaws, it was all in all an interesting and slightly surreal experience.

Much of the suspense regarding the main event – the unveiling of the kit – had been deflated a day earlier, after news channels seemed to have burst into the factory making the uniform, and released pictures on-air.

Nevertheless, the event itself was still abuzz with excitement when we walked into the venue.

There was a large phalanx of journalists and busy looking, young men in suits, surrounded by fake trees festooned in Pepsi cans and a DJ who alternated between remixes of previous World Cup anthems, as well as oddly appropriate tracks like Chris Issak’s Wicked Games. Given the relationship between the team and its fans, it was the most apt choice the DJ made all night.

Influenced perhaps by the (still unbelievable) Lahori culture of weddings starting and ending on time, things got underway relatively punctually as the cricketers began filtering in at the appointed time. The stage with its large screens and Bond-entry style layout was also excellent, and the general décor and ambience suited the occasion too.

However, it seemed that the emcee of the night, popular musician and actor Ahmed Ali Butt, hadn’t spent enough time preparing for his role.

Butt sahib seemed to have lost his renowned extempore skills, having equipped himself with just one joke – he asked just about every player if female fans sent them WhatsApp messages. The quip was repeated endlessly, and the only reason the audience didn’t tear their hair out was that most of the players had surprisingly funny responses.

Irfan joked about his height, while Junaid made fun of Butt’s belly. Even the deadpan captain Misbah had a few witty quips, gently reminding us that the sound of his voice and the surety of his front-foot defense are not the only facets to judge him by.

More reprehensibly, many of these ‘jokes’ soon turned into homophobic and racist comments about Pakthuns. They were the sort of jokes that people don’t even forward on SMS anymore. Yet, the hosts made them repeatedly. Each comment was more reprehensible than the last, and the whole affair was made far, far worse by the fact that a large proportion of the team – seated just a few feet away – happen to be from the Pakhtun community.

It was one thing not to have any good jokes, but quite another to try and make them up by being ridiculously offensive.

And oh – one of the co-hosts made a quip about fast bowlers ‘killing’ a batsman in Australia. In the aftermath of Phillip Hughes’s death, I wasn’t even sure how to respond.

Disappointingly, the various stars assembled for the event – Fawad Khan, Quratulain Balouch, Junaid Younus, Amanat Ali Khan, Nabeel Shaukat, Anoushey Khan and others – failed to add the requisite razzmatazz. It was, perhaps, indicative of the state of Pakistan’s music industry, where the mainstream has shrunken rapidly and no longer creates stars with the same national appeal as the cricketers.

It wasn’t too long ago that the stars on Pepsi’s cricket and music rosters were on roughly equal footing, but despite the cricket team having lost many of its icons, its allure outstripped those of the entertainers.

Having Ali Azmat to round off the evening with a performance was perhaps most poignant – the last time he released a popular World Cup song, even the immortal Shahid Afridi hadn’t made his debut yet.

But the immortal Afridi was still able to steal the show. Afridi the cricketer is infuriatingly inconsistent, but Afridi the Grand Statesman didn’t miss a single beat, pulling off a consummate social performance. When asked if he would use his good looks to launch a film career, Afridi dead-batted with, “I just want to be a good Muslim.”

But Boom Boom showed off his star power by pulling off the event’s most redemptive moment, the team selfie.

Afridi takes the selfie for Team Green. —Image source: Twitter

It happened just as the team was being ushered off stage to put on their kits, which turned out to be the same watermelon-inspired design that had underwhelmed social media a day earlier.

Still, it didn’t seem so bad in the moment.

For one, the players marching out amidst strains of The Final Countdown and taking positions was genuinely exciting.

Afridi was then handed a phone, and no sooner had he raised it, the two Lords of House Selfie – Ahmed Shehzad and Umar Akmal – swarmed around him by instinct. The rest of the team soon followed, and the resulting picture made everything from the kits to the team’s camaraderie look far better than they might be in reality.

Afridi wasn’t the only star though – Yasir Shah looks set to become a legend as he unveiled his infectious giggle and wonderful disposition. Almost all the bowlers had some witty responses, which bodes well for their sledging potential.

Mohammad Hafeez looked good but didn’t do anything memorable, which was usual for him, though his wife deflected the hosts’ leading questions with great panache.

Ahmed Shehzad preened around as a peacock, while Younis Khan showed once again why he is the father this nation needs.

Ahmed Shehzad and Misbahul Haq are interviewed at the event. —Publicity photo

Younis Khan being interviewed during the ceremony. Ahmad Butt stands to the left. —Publicity photo

As a fan, I was thoroughly enthralled being around the stars – so much so that I even decided to skip the utter chaos which was the free dinner and left early. But I do have some critical advice for whichever corporate sponsor holds such an event again.

For starters, they have to learn to be more subtle. Nowhere else are national stars asked to come on stage to talk at length about what they feel about a bottle of soft drink, and I doubt many countries would have their team captain give the official shirt to a corporate suit to wear, rather than the other way round.

Similarly, the hosts have to take an interest in the event beyond the basic banter they do with their own friends; perhaps their act could be planned just as well as the stage and lighting.

But most importantly – and this would require coordination across several organisations – it should be a must to ensure that the next time the kit is revealed, it hasn’t already been leaked to the world.

'Marwat Coach' was our Super Karachi Express Minibus

One of the consequences of Karachi’s turmoil, I feel, is one that is experienced daily but seldom addressed by the state, its citizens, or the empowered land developers in the country: the lack of pedestrian-friendly activities in the city.

City-walking in Karachi has been reduced to beaches, parks, malls and residential enclaves, walled high to segregate the insecurities of the bourgeoisie from the rest of the ‘open city’.

The argument that ‘a city is best discovered on foot’ may be lauded when we travel outside the country; within, it triggers the ultimate discussion of the naazuk surat-e-haal. As a result, the average Karachiite experiences their city with some restrictions, and its history with even more.

That is why, stumbling upon a recent initiative undertaken by Karachi-based youngsters and riddled with curiosity to walk the streets and ride atop a colourful minibus, I had to resist the urge to doubt.

Look through: Karachi’s bedecked buses

Within a week, I had booked myself a seat on the Super Karachi Express, not knowing what to expect, primarily because the tour guides purposefully remain vague about the locations they cover on a given tour. They like to maintain an element of surprise. I gather it is also a clever security strategy.

The price of the tour, which includes breakfast of chai-paratha or halwa puri at a local dhaba, is equivalent to the price of a movie ticket at a luxury cinema in the city, but certainly more valuable.

Early one Sunday morning, we dismount the Super Karachi Express (SKE) to walk down Zaibunnisa Street in Saddar. The street, yawning itself awake given the hour, is the second in Karachi to be named after a woman – the other being Fatima Ali Jinnah Road.

Mohammed Ali Building on Zaibunnisa Street in Saddar

Formerly known as Elphinstone Street and once considered to be the Piccadilly Circus of Karachi, it is named after Zaibunissa Hamidullah. Bengali by origin, in 1948, she became Pakistan’s first female English columnist and contributed to Dawn, The Mirror, and the Morning News, amongst others.

On Zaibunnisa Street stands the Mohammed Ali Building. Our guides tell us that it is owned by the government of Belgium, which refused to hand over ownership to Pakistan after independence. Because of this, the maintenance of this historic building is disputed and largely neglected.

We are driven to the Karachi Parsi Institute, formerly known as the Parsi Gymkhana, established in 1893. Here stand the statues of ‘Ed and Ned’. Ed, or Edulji Dinshaw, was a prominent businessman and philanthropist of pre-partition Karachi’s Parsi community and his son Ned, or Nadirshaw Edulji Dinshaw, continued his father’s legacy.

See: The real Father of Karachi

After Ned’s death, his children made generous donations to the Prince of Wales Engineering College. Today, it is known as the NED University of Engineering and Technology. The KPI provides sports facilities, including a cricket ground and billiard rooms, for the Parsi community of Karachi. Our presence, though not allowed officially, is tolerated.

Statue of Nadirshah Edulji Dinshaw, or ‘Ned’ (1862-1922), at the Karachi Parsi Institute

True to their promise of venturing into the cultural and religious flavours, SKE drives us to the Shree Swaminarayan Mandir. Muslims are generally not permitted inside the premises of Hindu temples in Pakistan, but upon the SKE’s request, the management here has granted us access.

The temple feels like a hidden space of colour and serenity, a stark contrast to the gated community of Karachi’s Hindu minority, which in 1947 made up 51 per cent of the city’s population, and whose cramped, informal settlements now encircle and overlook the premises of the mandir. Its residents peer over our group, as curious about us as we are of them.

The veranda, reserved for wedding ceremonies, Diwali and other festivities, opens onto a staircase leading you up, barefooted, to the places of worship that house idols and showcase murals, each with its own unique story from Hindu mythology. While Gujarati scripture decorates the walls inside, peacocks perch themselves onto railings and boundary walls, undeterred and resilient in the face of unexpected visitors.

Shree Swaminarayan Temple and surrounding areas

Karachi’s British legacy, dating back to 1843, can be witnessed during a drive or a stroll across Saddar and Fatima Jinnah Road. Among the remnants of this legacy is the Merewether Tower on M.A. Jinnah Road, known locally as ‘Tower’. Although today, it stands cramped and wall-chalked in the middle of a congested area, its physical location once had a unique significance.

The tower was named after William Merewether, commissioner of Sindh between 1867 and 1877. Prior to the development surrounding the area that today encircles Port Grand, the tower was symbolic of the British Raj, visible from the Port of Keamari to those entering the city by sea.

Read on: Karachi's 'Yahoodi Masjid'

Part of the tower’s gothic architecture includes star-shaped symbols thought to be modelled after the Star of David. But according to Usman Damohi in his book Karachi Tareekh ke Ainay Mein, these symbols had nothing to do with Judaism.

The Merewether Clock Tower

One of our guides remarks that while historically prominent figures were recognised by having monuments named after them, contemporary personalities have their successes measured by the number of billboards they lay claim over.

Nevertheless, today, it is common to find dull remains of washed out graffiti on the sides of the tower, sprayed on by religious political parties and groups, as if to mark their territories.

We are then driven towards Bandar Road to visit the Memon Masjid. The mosque’s trust dates its development back to 1948. However, Damohi’s book suggests that prior to the construction of the present structure, the original Memon Masjid on these premises was built during the British era, presumably around 1857. Its location (now M. A. Jinnah Road) would have been one of the initial points of development for the colonialists, before they headed towards Saddar and beyond.

See: The truth behind Karachi's Freemasons

A lesser known fact, we are told, is that the mosque stands on a graveyard. Two of these graves are visible through an iron door on the side of the mosque. It is alleged that this graveyard existed prior to the construction of the mosque, possibly dating it back to the early 19th century. But its complete history is yet to be discovered.

Memon Masjid, M.A. Jinnah Road

Atop the SKE minibus now, we head towards the St Patrick’s Cathedral, through narrow streets strewn with garbage and shops adorning large boards with enlarged images of arms and ammunition, boasting of ‘Guns for Defence’.

Inside St Patrick’s Cathedral

The Cathedral, built in 1881 to cater to the growing Christian community of Karachi in the 19th century, was visited by Mother Teresa in 1991, but has had no missionary visits since those 15 years.

While St Patrick’s Cathedral is a Roman Catholic Church, our next stop, the Holy Trinity Church, established in 1855, is Protestant and humbler in its décor.

The foundation of this Church was laid by Sir Bartle Frere in 1852. According to Damohi, the tower of the Holy Trinity Church was one of the tallest in Karachi at the time of its construction and was visible from the Keamari port, just like the Merewether Tower. But because residents of the area were apprehensive that it may collapse in the event of bad weather, the top two stories of the tower had to be removed.

Inside, the walls of the Holy Trinity Church are lined with plaques commemorating British and Indian soldiers who died in various battles during the 19th and early 20th centuries, including The Great War.

A plaque commemorating the Baloch Regiment inside the Holy Trinity Church

The Super Karachi Express is an inspiring initiative and similar efforts must be encouraged. While a treat for foreigners, it is equally relevant for local residents.

Explore: 10 things that will happen when you move to Karachi

With Karachi’s overall cultural scene developing rapidly, its citizens have a growing appetite for delving into their own histories.

Opportunities like SKE are necessary for situating Karachiites closer to their multicultural legacies and walking the spaces that need to be reclaimed and re-imagined as the glory that once was.

Inside the Super Karachi Express

Note: Out of consideration to the Super Karachi Express, some of the sites from my tour have been excluded from this blog.

—Photos by author

Last week Bollywood actress Deepika Padukone publicly admitted to suffering from depression, anxiety, and panic attacks throughout the past year.

With two of the highest grossing Bollywood films of all time under her belt, a first-ever world tour completed, countless awards and brand endorsements gained, and rumours of a relationship with one of Bollywood’s most handsome and down to earth men – on the face of it, Bollywood’s most influential female celebrity appears to have it all.

Indeed, as Deepika’s op-ed on her “struggle to get out of bed”, feeling a “roller coaster of emotions”, and the dire need for better understanding mental health in South Asia went viral, while most admired her courage to speak out on a heavily stigmatised topic, silent whispering continued to ask,

“How can you be depressed? Why are you anxious? You have it all.”

As someone who has experienced the twin evils of anxiety and panic attacks at various stages of my life, and a very brief period of depression following the death of a close friend, Deepika’s bold admission that “this is probably one of the deadliest mental disorders [and that] nothing, including life, makes sense to people suffering from it” broke the last remaining personal barrier for me.

For as long as I can remember, I have been asked the same thing Deepika admits to being asked throughout last year as she climbed all the ladders of success:

“What’s really bothering you? What could possibly be wrong? You are so lucky, you have it all.”

Also read: Not a Happy New Year: Deepika talks about suffering from depression

Growing up in a close knit, supportive family helped throw open doors for me. Because money was never a major issue, I was able to attend one of the world’s highest ranked universities. Because my parents believed in higher education for their daughters, I attended law school. Since a young age, I traveled frequently, and on one of my many trips, I met a Pakistani pop star and convinced him to marry me.

On the face of it, I have it all.

But, herein lays the real problem because having it all hasn’t stopped me from harbouring an innate, inexplicable fear of losing it all.

For as long as I can remember, I have been a perfectionist.

The thought of letting myself down or, even worse, letting my loved ones down, is a constant worry I carry with me. The need to maintain control in every situation has resulted in my having a short fuse for stressful situations. When faced with the unexpected, I find myself short of breath. When faced with conflict, I’ll lose hours of sleep in anticipation of reaching a resolution.

“Don’t worry, everything will be okay” or “it’s all in your head” are the two most degrading things to tell somebody who is stuck in the omnipresent, circular, and crippling hell that becomes their mind during a panic attack or an anxious episode.

Firstly, I know everything will – eventually – be okay. I have had enough panic attacks and anxiety-ridden moments in my life to know that just like everything on this planet; these twin evils are not permanent.

For instance, I know a panic attack lasts an X amount of minutes and can be controlled through X, Y, Z strategies. And, I know my anxiety is very much situational and once the situation subsides, or I am removed from said situation, my anxiety, much like a Genie, is sucked back into the little lamp I seem to always, unwittingly carry.

Secondly, while I know it is all ‘in my head’, it’s not as if I have invited anxiety, panic and the occasional bouts of depression as welcome guests, sitting and breaking bread in my head simply because I’m too lazy and dull to do something about it.

The feeling of foreboding, dread, fear, and hollowness that accompanies anxiety and depression is not something that I can remove and rearrange like a Rubik's Cube.

They are in my head because something – i.e. chemical reactions – or someone – God’s will – have said so.

Just like individuals diagnosed with the common cold or life-threatening cancer tend to hop on to the Internet and find out everything they can about their affliction, I’ve spent countless hours studying the hows and whys. But explaining the hows and whys to loved ones, who tend to want to elevate us, to see no flaw in us, is the tricky part.

Like the Anna Karenina quote, “is it really possible to tell someone else what one feels?”

Anxiety is not an absolute. Indeed, it is very, very relative. In fact, it is a monstrous mass of subjective reactions.

Everyone feels anxiety and depression differently.

For some, it is a presence like one’s shadow. Some days you are aware of it. Some days you see it. Other days, you don’t. For others, it is like King Midas’s touch – except that everything you touch does not turn gold but instead a gloomier, grey which eventually taints all of your life view.

Also read: Policing Mathira, Deepika — and all South Asian women

That’s why I am not shocked when someone like Deepika, who has an immeasurable amount of beauty, wealth, success and global admiration, admits to occasionally being crippled by emptiness and an inexplicable unhappiness.

Her billions do not necessarily mean she is a billion times happier.

I’m also not shocked when Deepika admits to have initially refused medication. The stigma and the sheer unacceptance of any glimmer of mental illness is rampant around the world – South Asia, perhaps the most.

We come from a part of the world where any hint of mental instability is quickly explained away as an inherent problem within the affected person who needs to just ‘figure it out’, or if you are really old school, it’s explained away as the effect of nazar or jinnat, curable with some jadoo tona.

But, clearly, these limited efforts are failing us.

Also read: Mental illness in Pakistan: The toll of neglect

So little has been done to address and monitor the prevalence of mental illness in Pakistan, I couldn’t even find a reliable enough figure on how many might currently be suffering from anxiety or depression.

However, based on my own mini-scientific enquiry (i.e. a few Google searches), the vastness of instability in our society, the alarmingly high suicide rates, the out of control poverty, a complete lack of basic necessities, and an internal war waged by fanatics, I’m willing to bet there are more than just a few people feeling inherently anxious, inherently depressed.

As Deepika writes in her op-ed, the World Health Organisation has categorically noted that in a few years anxiety and depression will be the world’s most widespread epidemic.

In a region that is fascinated with the Bollywood cult, and prone to celebrity-worship, if everyone’s current favorite heroine becomes the reason why we all smarten up; pay a little more attention and pass a little less judgment on those battling with depression, then kudos to Deepika.

Related:

• Breaking point: Mental health in Pakistan
• Peshawar massacre to cause mental problems among students, parents
• 80pc people suffer from mental illness in Waziristan

It takes a special breed of people to create situations like these.

The perpetual energy crisis was always there. But with sheer ineptness and commitment to cronyism and tireless efforts at mismanaging priorities and obliging special interest groups, the government of Pakistan has now handed the citizens of Pakistan a petrol crisis as well.

Global oil prices have been in free fall for the last eight weeks. The prices are falling because there is too much supply of oil in the market but not enough buyers. So at a time of excess oil supply and plummeting prices, our government has managed to secure for the people of Pakistan an oil shortage.

Just let that sink in.

I doubt it will though because it makes absolutely no sense, except maybe the special kind of sense which the Ministry of Information possesses.

Know more: Supply-chain breakdown

The crisis is moronic, to say the least, and completely down to the inability of this government to get the simplest things right. What's worse is the magnitude of indifference with which it has been and is being handled.

In any other country, heads should have rolled long ago, people would have been fired or suspended from their jobs for being stupid enough to not see this coming or worse (but true) to have seen it coming but failing to do anything about it.

It isn't hyperbolic to say that the Minister of Petroleum should have been sacked by now. It would have made no difference to the oil supply in the country but it would have at least shown to the people that the government was capable of some kind of remorse.

But that is their problem, isn't it – they truly do not have any remorse for anything they do. It is as if they are perpetually sticking it to the public of Pakistan.

Read the analysis: Fuelling the fire

Well, the people deserve better. What the government doesn't understand is that sooner rather than later, people will start calling for change by hook or by crook. The masses are getting sick and tired of how their votes keep coming back to haunt them.

So, in very real terms, the democratic future of this country is at stake here; and it is the politicians this time who are putting it there.

I realise that cronyism is how the system is designed to work. I hate that fact, but I acknowledge it. Unlike some fellow analysts/writers, I do not live in 'la la land' where everything must either be by the book and meritorious or not be at all. I understand that the business of running countries like ours can get messy and the costs can be high keeping in mind the huge accommodations for special interest groups that need including.

But there are limits to that.

The only way this system sustains itself is by maintaining a balance between cronyist capitalism and progress. Now that balance has been thrown off, and although it is not hurting the government yet, it will hurt the country's already stuttering and stumbling walk to democracy.

See more: Ogra responsible for petrol crisis, PM Nawaz told

The government's indecision and inability to look beyond Islamabad and Lahore is hitting home now, and the gaps in governance are getting wider. If this is how they deal with a self-inflicted crisis, then one can only imagine how they would deal with a real crisis – oh wait, we know how that works too: Remember last month when 140 kids got massacred? Remember what happened after that? Nothing happened because this government simply did not have the guts to do what was needed in order to send a strong message to our enemies.

This government is literally an inch away from having everyone lose their trust in it.

When our kids die, they react by calling up a politicians' grand feast aka All Parties Conference. And when the country runs out of petrol, they take a day off in Islamabad to figure out how to save the ministers who did this to the 190 million people of Pakistan.

I am not worried about this government or their survival, I am worried about people losing faith in the idea of democracy.

This government’s performance has more and more people questioning democracy and its benefits. That is dangerous for Pakistan.

Take a look: Fuelling controversy

In a hashtag nation like ours, where people have attention spans of gold fish, our rulers have always banked on diversion tactics to take the eyes off their star performances. But unfortunately for them, when the system finally breaks, the last hashtag will stay there, and currently that hashtag seems to be #GetPetrolOrFreezeTrying.

So dear government, for the sake of appearances, fire the responsible minister, please. Give him another portfolio in a couple of weeks, because by then, people in this hashtag nation would have forgotten about it.

But at least pretend to be apologetic, at least pretend to care about the common citizen even if to perpetuate your own version of governance if nothing else.

It takes a special breed of people to create situations like these.

The perpetual energy crisis was always there. But with sheer ineptness and commitment to cronyism and tireless efforts at mismanaging priorities and obliging special interest groups, the government of Pakistan has now handed the citizens of Pakistan a petrol crisis as well.

Global oil prices have been in free fall for the last eight weeks. The prices are falling because there is too much supply of oil in the market but not enough buyers. So at a time of excess oil supply and plummeting prices, our government has managed to secure for the people of Pakistan an oil shortage.

Just let that sink in.

I doubt it will though because it makes absolutely no sense, except maybe the special kind of sense which the Ministry of Information possesses.

Know more: Supply-chain breakdown

The crisis is moronic, to say the least, and completely down to the inability of this government to get the simplest things right. What's worse is the magnitude of indifference with which it has been and is being handled.

In any other country, heads should have rolled long ago, people would have been fired or suspended from their jobs for being stupid enough to not see this coming or worse (but true) to have seen it coming but failing to do anything about it.

It isn't hyperbolic to say that the Minister of Petroleum should have been sacked by now. It would have made no difference to the oil supply in the country but it would have at least shown to the people that the government was capable of some kind of remorse.

But that is their problem, isn't it – they truly do not have any remorse for anything they do. It is as if they are perpetually sticking it to the public of Pakistan.

Read the analysis: Fuelling the fire

Well, the people deserve better. What the government doesn't understand is that sooner rather than later, people will start calling for change by hook or by crook. The masses are getting sick and tired of how their votes keep coming back to haunt them.

So, in very real terms, the democratic future of this country is at stake here; and it is the politicians this time who are putting it there.

I realise that cronyism is how the system is designed to work. I hate that fact, but I acknowledge it. Unlike some fellow analysts/writers, I do not live in 'la la land' where everything must either be by the book and meritorious or not be at all. I understand that the business of running countries like ours can get messy and the costs can be high keeping in mind the huge accommodations for special interest groups that need including.

But there are limits to that.

The only way this system sustains itself is by maintaining a balance between cronyist capitalism and progress. Now that balance has been thrown off, and although it is not hurting the government yet, it will hurt the country's already stuttering and stumbling walk to democracy.

See more: Ogra responsible for petrol crisis, PM Nawaz told

The government's indecision and inability to look beyond Islamabad and Lahore is hitting home now, and the gaps in governance are getting wider. If this is how they deal with a self-inflicted crisis, then one can only imagine how they would deal with a real crisis – oh wait, we know how that works too: Remember last month when 140 kids got massacred? Remember what happened after that? Nothing happened because this government simply did not have the guts to do what was needed in order to send a strong message to our enemies.

This government is literally an inch away from having everyone lose their trust in it.

When our kids die, they react by calling up a politicians' grand feast aka All Parties Conference. And when the country runs out of petrol, they take a day off in Islamabad to figure out how to save the ministers who did this to the 190 million people of Pakistan.

I am not worried about this government or their survival, I am worried about people losing faith in the idea of democracy.

This government’s performance has more and more people questioning democracy and its benefits. That is dangerous for Pakistan.

Take a look: Fuelling controversy

In a hashtag nation like ours, where people have attention spans of gold fish, our rulers have always banked on diversion tactics to take the eyes off their star performances. But unfortunately for them, when the system finally breaks, the last hashtag will stay there, and currently that hashtag seems to be #GetPetrolOrFreezeTrying.

So dear government, for the sake of appearances, fire the responsible minister, please. Give him another portfolio in a couple of weeks, because by then, people in this hashtag nation would have forgotten about it.

But at least pretend to be apologetic, at least pretend to care about the common citizen even if to perpetuate your own version of governance if nothing else.

The Shami is the king of the tea trolley in Pakistan; may it be Eid or a casual drop-in at a friend’s house, the delicious delight is always a hot accompaniment.

The kebab, with the hot pepper, red pepper and green chillies in it, brings a zing not just to the chai but the conversation too. My earliest memory of stealing a taste of the Shami Kebab is right from the pot, just before the patty was made and fried; that is the fun and versatility of Shami Kebab – it's delicious to eat and steal before it is put in a blender to be made silky and fried to a fine finish.

Historian Lizzie Collingham in her book Curry talks about the Shami Kebab at length:

Nawab Asaf-ud-Dulah’s love of food is also said to have led to the invention of the Shami kebab. This is one of Lucknow’s many contributions to kebab cookery. In contrast to the Mughal emperors who ate sparingly, the nawabs of Oudh were gluttons.

Indeed, Asaf-ud-Dulah became so fat that he could no longer ride a horse. He managed to gain vast amounts of weight despite the fact that his ability to chew was compromised by the loss of his teeth. Shami kebabs are supposed to have been created in order to accommodate this problem. They were made out of finely minced and pounded meat known as qeema. While westerners tend to mince meat as a way of using inferior grades, the Mughals would often mince the best cuts. Qeema is frequently referred to in the recipes given by Akbar’s courtier, Abu’l Fazl, as an ingredient for pulaos.

The Mughals liked minced beef, but in Lucknow, the cooks preferred lamb, which produced a softer mince. They would grind the meat into a fine paste and then add ginger and garlic, poppy seeds and various combinations of spices, roll it into balls or lozenges, spear them on a skewer, and roast them over a fire. The resulting kebabs were crispy on the outside but so soft and silky within that even the toothless Asaf-ud-Daulah could eat them with pleasure.

The silky Shami kebabs are a delicious side to any meal, but they can be enjoyed on their own with a side of hot naan, onions and spicy mint chutney. The nanbais (bazaar cooks) of Lucknow were famed for making the best Shami kebabs. Hence, the street bun kebabs sold by street vendors in the subcontinent, more so a specialty of Karachi, is a continuation of the same tradition.

I distinctly remember the most delicious bun kebab I used to have during the '70s and '80s. The vendour stood outside Khayaam cinema in the locality of Nursery, Karachi. I wonder if he still haunts the neighbourhood today?

My research says the first kebabs were stumbled upon by soldiers. It is believed that the Turkish and Persian soldiers enjoyed grilling fresh meat on fire, while it hung wrapped on their swords. The meat chunks were cooked in animal fat and consumed by soldiers who hunted for survival while journeying land to land for conquests.

The word 'kebab' is said to originate from the Arabic language, but the Persians, Turks and central Asians also lay claim to it. It means to fry, burn or cook on a skewer through grilling or open fire cooking.

Kebabs are almost always cooked over charcoal or shallow fried, and not usually deep fried. Kebabs in the west are mostly served on a skewer, or like doner kebab, with a side of pilaf or middle Eastern pita bread.

In the subcontinent, there are more than a dozen popular kebab recipes; chapli kebab, boti, seekh, bihari, galavati, but none are quite as unique as the Shami Kebab.

Sanjay Thumma, celebrity chef and author, in his article 'Shammi Kebab' pens:

Shami or Shammi kebab literally means the Syrian kebab (Syria is called Sham in Urdu and Hindi) in Arabic. During the Mughal era, Muslim immigrants from the Middle East introduced this kebab to South Asia. The Mughals had employed cooks from all over the Muslim world to serve in the royal kitchens and some of the cooks were from Syria.

Another source states that the word Sham is evening in Hindi and Urdu, and Sham-e-Awadh (evenings in Lucknow), during the days of the Nawabs were unforgettable. Some people also believe that Shami Kebabs originate from the famous village of Sham Churasi in the Hoshiarpur district of Punjab.

Lucknow is acclaimed for its gastronomic sophistication, extravagant lifestyle and love for the performing arts. Its kitchens (called bawarchi khanas) took pride of place in the royal courts, as did their bawarchis or rakabdars (gourmet cooks). The richness of Lucknawi cuisine is in its variety and ingredients, like the subtle flavors of a [perfect] Shammi Kebab.

The Shami Kebab recipe I share with you today comes from my dear mother’s kitchen, the very same that I was caught stealing rather sheepishly, and the Hara Masala kebabs are my dear nani’s specialty. The Hara Masala kebabs are a perfect patty for a kid’s burger, sans green chillie – my children love it in a burger.

Here it is, from my kitchen to yours.

Shami kebab

Ingredients

1 kg ground beef
1 ½ cup chana dal
1 ½ onions, large
1 inch piece of ginger
10 pods of garlic
12 whole red chillie
1 tsp. cumin, heaped
2 tsp. coriander powder
2 sticks cinnamon
3 black cardamoms
20 whole peppercorns
7 to 8 cloves
Salt to taste
24 to 30 ounces of water

Method

Put all ingredients (mentioned above) in a pot of water, and cook until the water completely dries and lentils are cooked and soft to touch.

Let cool and grind until fine to touch.

Add 1 medium finely chopped onion, 2 eggs, 1 bunch of fresh coriander leaves (chopped) and 10 to 12 leaves of mint (chopped). Mix well with ground beef mixture, form kebabs and shallow fry.

Hara masala kebab

Ingredients

2 lbs. ground beef
8 slices of white bread, soaked in water and drained
4 tsp. corn flour, heaped
2 medium sized onions, finely chopped
2 inch piece of ginger
2 eggs
2 tsp. black pepper powder, level
1 bunch coriander, chopped
Salt to taste
4 to 6 green chillie, finely chopped

Method

Mix ingredients together, form patty and shallow fry.

Explore more food stories here.

—Photos by Fawad Ahmed

The grave of fast bowler Fazal Mahmood, titled 'Oval Hero' for his exploits in a 1954 Test played against England.

On a tombstone in a derelict graveyard in Lahore, are written the words: “My wife, my friend, my love, my life” – a love story in eight short words.

Above this proclamation is a name and dates of birth and death.

Poignant, yes, but also startlingly unique. Hers is probably one of the very few tombstones planted above the millions of dead in this country, that expresses an emotion.

That is just not how it is done in Pakistan.

Traditionally, when a marker has to be put up, it will carry a name, a date of birth and a date of death, along with a few religious inscriptions. That’s about it.

Rarely will any other detail of life be mentioned. Rarer still is any expression of sentiment.

Rites upon rites mark the first 40 days after a death, but the tombstone remains void of emotion. Almost all departed souls are dearly loved.

Why then, the reluctance to express it?

Deadpan epitaphs for the dead

This is a land of raging feelings.

Drivers will scream, weddings will be week-long affairs, politics will be passionate, friends will be for life, neighbours will be nosy, religion will be second to none, cricket will be second only to religion.

Each citizen carries a lifelong pass to an emotional roller coaster entirely his own. But one trip to a graveyard is enough to dispel this image.

Who is buried under these depressingly sterile nameplates?

Are these the same people who in life knew not a single moment of staid conventionalism, for whom being alive was synonymous with being opinionated?

Why have we ignored all that they were in the final words ever ascribed to them?

Read on: Ahmadi graves desecration: The death of conscience

Many famous people of course do not fall into the above category. As in life, so in death, their fame is on display, marking them as different from ordinary folks.

Waheed Murad’s tombstone lets us know with no ambiguity that this was the “Great Superstar”, the “Chocolate Hero”. Fazal Mehmood’s has “Oval Hero” engraved on the back, the sound of those 12 fallen wickets still echoing five decades later. Allah Wasai, a queen to the last, is buried as “Noor Jahan, Malika-e-Tarannum”. Manto famously wanted his epitaph to be a challenge to God’s writing skills, but his relatives decided to make do with a less controversial message.

Waheed Murad's epitaph remembers him as the 'Chocolate Hero'.

Saadat Hasan Manto's epitaph.

Surprisingly, the real celebrities of this country – politicians and statesmen – mostly have simple markers with a cursory mention of a title or two. Larger than life while still breathing, their last resting places are marked by humble plaques.

General Zia-ul-Haq is just the "President of Pakistan & Chief of Army Staff", his absolutist 11-year rule over the country seemingly a figment of imagination.

The most flamboyant of our Presidents, he of the bow ties and horse rides with Jackie Kennedy fame, Ayub Khan’s marker simply reads “Field Marshal”.

Salman Taseer’s many avatars and achievements fade away in the face of the final one; the successful businessman, politician and collector of art is ultimately a “Martyr of Humanity”.

Benazir Bhutto’s inscription is only slightly more elaborate, stating this to be the grave of the first woman prime minister of the Muslim world, “martyred fighting for democracy and for the peaceful message of Islam”.

Explore: Heritage: The ancient graves

Women — the mothers, daughters and wives of men

For both the famous and the ordinary, a tradition had previously existed of leaving a written tribute on a tomb. Graves four or five decades old are inscribed with poetry, blessings, regrets, and salutations.

Somewhere along the way though, the epitaphs were turned into emotionless inscriptions, and those are now morphing into something more impersonal: more and more women’s graves are marked by not a name but a relation.

Take a look: Deadly attacks drive Pakistan coffin boom

She is now a zauja (wife) of Malik Fareed* or a dukhtar (daughter) of Chaudhry Bashir or walida (mother) of Jamil Ishfaq. Her name will not be mentioned. She will forever be a possession. Here lies proof that Malik Fareed existed.

Religious belief is part of the reason behind the namelessness of these tombs; life and death are accepted as God’s will, and a human emotion in face of the Almighty’s irreversible final decision seems inconsequential, so why bother about it.

The epitaph of Boota Pehelwan.

Tombstone of the founder of Lunda Bazaar, Mohammad Sultan.

There’s also the reasoning that if space is limited, then it should be dedicated to scripture, blessings bearing down eternally. Another reason seems to be a desire to follow the crowd. In a lot with many nameless graves, few would want to stand out as the odd one out.

The real reason, though, seems to be a national reluctance to publicly express love, especially towards a female. Couples do not hold hands, do not engage in perfunctory hugs. Many fathers are reluctant to shower grown-up children with physical affection.

Our men are stoic, far above the messy business of feelings.

Also see: Bani Israel graveyard: buried in time or conscience?

In another derelict graveyard of Lahore is the grave of a 16-year-old girl.

A small metal plate stands on two spindly legs at the head. The name and dates are painted on in a neat, clean professional hand. Underneath them, in an unsteady hand, with no claims of having done this before, is written “Meri Pyaari Laado” (my pampered darling) – a tragedy in three short words.

Not a stoic man who wrote this.

He lets you share his pain, he does not let the reader walk on unhindered. The messy business of feelings screams out that his child lies here and she was his beloved. The paint bleeds as does the heart when reading it.

—Photos by author

“Mama, can I eat this ... how about this?” my daughter asks for the 10th time as we cruise through the aisles.

“Check the ingredients,” I reply.

We do this every time we shop, because we are an 'allergy family' that avoids milk, eggs, rice, corn, citrus, peanuts and wheat. At the tender age of seven my daughter has an extensive vocabulary of words such as hives, asthma, chest infection, gluten, epi-pen and knows which anti-histamine to take, when.

Proud moment albeit a sad one.

Wheat is specifically linked to an auto-immune condition known as celiac disease, where the body feels as if it has been attacked when it ingests the protein gluten (found in wheat, barley and rye).

The punch line is, celiac has no cure as of yet and the only way to stay healthy is to follow a gluten-free diet, for life.

Celiac is detected through blood tests for antibodies (tTg-IGA) followed by a colonoscopy and biopsy of the intestine for confirmation. The obvious things we have to avoid are breads, rotis, parathas, cakes, cookies, pastas, pizzas, cereals, not to mention the less obvious potato chips, packet soups, gravies, chicken stock, ice cream, ketchup, soy sauce and even green tea!

Many are also unable to eats oats or drink coffee, so yes, it gets worse.

This kind of investigative scanning requires obsessive diligence when buying and ordering food, which makes us a hoot to be around!

Those of us living with this condition can tell you that it is a harrowing experience. To deal with the symptoms, misdiagnoses, distrusting or ill-informed doctors who think we are certifiably mad and the constant feeling of un-wellness for which we get called “weak” and “lazy”.

Sehar Asif is a gastro-enterologist and it took her a year to correctly diagnose her own son, “Celiac can look like a common tummy or bowel problem, so it was a big leap for me to consider it”.

The most common symptoms of celiac disease include, bloating, vomiting, stomach pain, long bouts of diarrhoea (or constipation), and failure to gain (or lose) weight, as well as brain fog (difficulty remembering things, feeling confused and disoriented).

Some of the uncommon ones include, hair loss, joint pains, migraines, numbness of arms and legs, skin rash (dermatitis herpetiformis) not to mention psychological clues such as irritability, depression, mood swings and night tremors in children, which my daughter was plagued with for years.

It is no wonder then that patients find it hard to convince doctors to take them seriously, but continuing to eat gluten-containing foods, even the smallest amounts, whilst you have celiac disease, causes long-term and permanent damage and can lead to osteoporosis, arthritis, diabetes and infertility.

Also read: Gluten-free has gone big time, but why so popular?

The symptoms can appear in infancy or go unnoticed for years and appear suddenly in adulthood. As they did for Gul Rukh Mehboob.

“I was given endless iron supplements as a teenager for my anaemia, but then began to have recurring stomach pain and diarrhoea. I tried years of herbal and homoeopathic therapies, but nothing changed. I was once told I had intestinal tuberculosis and was even prescribed anti-depressants”.

She was finally diagnosed in her 20s by a doctor who saw her symptoms as a cluster.

Asfandyar, like many others, has a similar story of enduring years of anxiety and poor health, “I had constant problems with acidity as a teenager and it was probably the onset of celiac but no one noticed. Years later, when I went to attend college abroad, I was tested and found an answer ... and relief”.

Hina Ellahi is empowering her 5-year-old daughter with celiac, to read labels and be her own advocate at school and in public, “It started when she was 2, she was either constipated or had a runny tummy. And it was demoralising when people said she was a fussy eater, I knew there was more to it. It took one attentive child specialist to finally listen”.

Faced with questions like “are you sure, I’ve never heard of this before” and “but what will you/your child eat, you can’t be healthy without wheat?” or the better ones such as “keep eating it, I’m sure your body will eventually get used to it”, celiacs have to develop a thick skin and a sense of humour.

Along with food allergies/intolerances, non-celiac gluten sensitivity (NCGS), diabetes, IBS, lupus, and even psoriasis can improve by eating the right kind of food.

In the United States and across Europe food companies are required to mention the full list of ingredients highlighting allergens. But, thus far in Pakistan, incomplete and misleading labelling leaves us with no choice but to avoid doubtful products or take harmful risks.

There are a few individuals who provide safe foods for celiacs through the Damascus restaurant in Karachi and Nimo’s Kitchen in Lahore, whilst others exploit the market by putting out wheat-containing products mislabelled as safe for celiacs and diabetics, causing serious harm to people's heath.

We as a nation, desperately need to be aware of the connection between food and health, so would it be ludicrous to expect our cooking shows to discuss allergy/gluten-free ideas or for local and foreign eateries and franchises to incorporate some gluten-free, egg-free, dairy-free options that are readily available around the world?

Maybe if we ask enough times, we could inspire new eating trends which could lead to healthier lifestyles for those looking for a change, but most importantly, more options on the menu for those who have to make it a life-time commitment.

Click on image to enlarge.

Resources:

• Desi parents and kids with allergies
• Pakistan Celiac Society Group
• Pakistani Celiac Society Page

If incompetence and corruption of the ruling elite were not enough to derail the economy, Pakistan’s sustained bout with terrorism did the rest.

Recent research shows that in the absence of terrorist violence, Pakistan’s economy would have grown much faster than it actually did.

A paper by Sultan Mehmood in Defence and Peace Economics tabulated the impact of terrorism on Pakistan’s economy. The author estimated Pakistan’s real (inflation adjusted) GDP per capita would have grown by 177 per cent during 1973 and 2008 (instead of 119 per cent) in the absence of terrorist violence. Thus, the cumulative economic loss due to terrorism is around 33 per cent.

Over the years, several agencies, including the IMF and the government of Pakistan, have tried to guess terrorism’s devastating impact on Pakistan’s economy. A systematic estimate of the impact, however, had been lacking till now.

Also read: 12-year war on terror cost $100bn, says Dar

Sultan Mehmood relies on time-series econometrics to develop estimates of the impact of terrorism on the GDP, FDI, domestic investments, and remittances from expatriate workers. He finds strong evidence in support of the adverse impacts of terrorist violence on Pakistan’s economy. The most devastating impact of terrorism was recorded for reduced remittances and loss in domestic investments.

Given the fact that the terrorist violence in Pakistan and Afghanistan has intensified in reaction to Nato’s engagement in the region, Pakistan possesses few, if any, unilateral options to break this cycle of violence. As long as external triggers persist, local and foreign militants are likely to continue committing terrorist acts against the State and the society.

Even if and when the external stimuli for terrorist violence disappear, it is highly unlikely that Pakistan will be free of terrorism.

The domestic triggers of terrorism, i.e., the sectarian and communal conflicts in urban Pakistan, are likely to continue causing terrorism-related economic losses over the long run.

Know more: Another Rs701bn lost due to terrorism

Given the huge post 9/11 terrorism-driven economic losses, the international community bears some responsibility to help buttress Pakistan’s economy against these systematic losses.

This is not an argument to extend handouts to Pakistan’s civil and military establishment. Such partially documented, and at times unaudited, haphazard support has failed to strengthen the economic base because the funds often disappear in the thick fog of creative accounting. Realising the widespread corruption, USAID routinely seeks the public’s support in identifying misappropriation in their sponsored projects in Pakistan.

What instead is needed is a direct support to the private sector to help develop and strengthen the market economy in Pakistan.

This may include, among others, the support to strengthen property and intellectual rights, training of trades, and priority access to European and North American markets for goods and services produced in Pakistan.

Sultan Mehmood further demonstrates that the impact of terrorist violence persists for at least two years after the incidents. The impact on workers’ remittances is felt for even longer periods. This implies that even (if) when the terrorist violence will subside in Pakistan, its adverse impacts are likely to linger on for a few more years.

Read on: Pakistan suffered $67.93bn losses due to operation against militants

Often, the international forces have followed a cut-and-run approach in the region.

Take Canada for example, which deployed almost three thousand troops in Kandahar. As soon as the Canadian troops pulled out of Afghanistan, without making any meaningful progress in security or development, Afghanistan disappeared from Canada’s national discourse and the focus shifted to new conflicts and regions. Today, Canada’s news media and the government are focused on targeting IS in Syria. Afghanistan seems a distant memory.

Knowing that the adverse impacts of their policies and interventions will be felt later for years, the global powers must commit to a long-term support structure to develop markets and strengthen civil society after their armies have pulled out of the region. The cut-and-run approach gave birth to al Qaeda and the Taliban. A sustained and considerate engagement could have avoided the past 14 years of catastrophic violence.

Pakistan today, as it has been for the past three decades, is at the brink of an economic and social collapse. Its economy has been kept on life support by the lenders of last resort. The IMF alone had to step in at least 12 times during 1990 and 2007 to prevent Pakistan from defaulting. Bilateral handouts by friendly and not-so-friendly states account for billions more in charity. Even more sums were borrowed from multilateral institutions.

Still, the economy failed to improve.

See: Can Nawaz Sharif fix the economy?

The sheer incompetence and ignorance of the political leadership and civil bureaucracy continues to create economic crises of unprecedented proportions. Even when the masses demonstrate robust willingness to pay for goods and services, e.g., petrol and electricity, the State seems incapable of delivering.

The international community must realise, as have the people of Pakistan, that the Pakistani State is unlikely to cope with the grave challenges faced by the masses who have paid the ultimate price for the State’s mismanagement and the terrorist violence.

If there is a willingness to help the people of Pakistan for the economic losses they have suffered because of terrorism, the international community may want to bypass Pakistan’s obtrusive State and directly assist the private sector and the civil society in building pathways to market-based economic prosperity that is safeguarded by an alert and vibrant civil society.

The clerics and the warped reactionary mindset empowered by the Zia dictatorship never did go away. The truth is, things in this respect, actually got worse after Zia’s demise in August 1988.

What he left behind was a society, polity, state and governments that discovered how exploiting religion in Pakistan (even in the most cynical and hypocritical manner) can be the harbinger of quick political, social and, on a personal level, economic benefits.

Nobody was interested in the more spiritual aspects of faith.

So, the ‘Ziaist’ legacy lingered on in one shape or the other across the so-called democratic governments of the PPP and the PML-N and even during the Musharraf dictatorship, which posed as ‘moderate’ and ‘enlightened.’

Sometimes, I get exhausted mentioning this over and over again in my columns, so much so that at times, I just want to start writing fiction novels about other beings on other planets.

But I’ve never been a huge fiction fan. As a kid, yes, I enjoyed the usual stuff, but as an adult, apart from Gabriel García Márquez and a few others, not much has interested me. But I remain to be a big science-fiction buff, and still manage to go through a sci-fi novel or two.

As to when did I know I wanted to be a writer, well, I think at school because there were just three things I enjoyed doing there: Sports, a bit of painting and lots of writing. Writing was and still is a rather cathartic experience for me.

My journalist father was the prime influence. Who else?

Hunter S. Thompson, Allen Ginsberg and William S. Burroughs when I was in my 20s. Ibn-e-Safi, of course. Also Arthur C. Clarke and Gabriel García Márquez.

But the real inspiration has come from scholars and writers whose writings have helped shape my understanding of history, politics and religion. People like Ayesha Jalal, Dr. Mubarek Ali, Patricia Crone, K K Aziz and a few others.

And no, I’ve never been much of a Chomsky fan.

From being a political reporter and then a music critic in the 1990s, I have evolved into becoming - what Dawn newspaper (my main base of operations for a decade now) - labelled (for me) - a ‘cultural critic’ and a satirist too.

I enjoy being both, even though satire comes more easily to me than doing those lengthy socio-political pieces that I bombard poor Dawn.com with because the latter requires a lot of painstaking work.

I say this because there are always many sides and versions of what are peddled as history in Pakistan. So one has to be careful about putting down something and then explain that something to be fact.

Writing historical pieces is tricky business in a country like Pakistan where whole generations have grown up stuffed with myths and distortions.

Writing satire is easier because many popular folk in Pakistan eventually end up becoming and sounding like unintentional parodies of themselves.

But I do not satirise them by putting myself on some higher moral or intellectual ground, because I also satirise myself. When I’m doing a satirical piece, I feel I am also satirising myself as a writer, or an image of myself that some readers have cultivated in their minds.

In 2012, I was invited by the Pakistani student body to SOAS (London) for a talk. During the talk I was constantly blitzed by questions about why my generation of ‘revolutionaries’ could not topple Zia and uproot his influence in the 1980s.

I asked one angry lad there that whether he wanted me to answer this question as a cultural critic or a satirist? The student had the sense of humour to laugh and consequently calm down a bit.

Then there was that ultimate question that keeps popping up till even today: Am I still a Marxist?

Yes, in a way, I still consider myself to be a Marxist, but only on an academic level. What I mean to say is that I still use certain academic Marxian tools to analyse social and political events and issues. But I think more than anything, I’ve always been a social democrat. Or a Muslim Nationalist inspired by the likes of Jinnah. And I haven’t changed much, really. Surprised?

I'm talking about modern Muslim Nationalism that once attempted to trigger a renaissance in the Muslim world by updating and unearthing the rich political, intellectual and artistic traditions of the Muslims. This nationalism also got into a battle with religious obscurantism that was not only backed by decadent Muslim political and economic elites, but by their colonial backers as well.

I was a PPP voter between 1988 and 2008, but not to the extent of undermining the importance of political players and parties that are playing an equally important role in keeping Pakistan on the right sides of history.

To me, parties like the PPP, ANP and MQM, with all their flaws and idiosyncrasies, are still vital to keep the core of the Pakistani state and society from being completely overwhelmed by reactionary forces.

And, by the way, I’m also a big fan of the current COAS, General Raheel Sharif! A thinking man’s soldier. A decisive man and the main engine behind Pakistan’s latest urge and action to save itself from falling completely into the laps of the anarchic and extremist ogres that we have been breeding and tolerating for decades.

What has stung the most is our failure to understand how the state’s experiments in the context of a concocted and non-organic ideology has contributed the most in whatever that has gone down in this country in terms of faith-based violence and the ever increasing episodes of bigotry.

It will throw Pakistan further on the wrong side of history. This must stop.

It’s amazing that even in the 21st Century, many Pakistanis still think progressive ideals to mean what the religious parties have told them. For example, many people look at me oddly when I explain myself to be a progressive Muslim. They ask, how can that be? How can a Muslim be progressive? My question is, how can he not?

What became to be known as Political Islam is a recent phenomenon. It’s a 20th Century construct that turned faith into a political ideology. Politics is amoral, faith is not. How can the two be mixed? The mind boggles.

The Muslim Holy Book is a moral guide. It’s not a political manifesto. It gives one pointers and advice on how to live a righteous life, how to use the intellect (aqal) to progress as a human being, as well as a society, and to also appreciate the creations of the Almighty through gaining knowledge about these surroundings.

I have read the Book over and over and over again, in Urdu and English, and I have my own understanding of it. I trust this understanding. But I just cannot suggest that my interpretation and understanding of it is better than someone else’s (and vice versa).

The problem in Pakistan, ever since the Zia years, has been that anyone who does not wear his or her faith on their sleeve, or for that matter, across their faces and on their heads, is automatically judged as being irreligious.

Isn’t the Almighty the final judge of that?

I've never been good at ritualism. To me, giving charity in the name of the Almighty is the greatest form of worship.

I did not discover God through the sermons of a mullah or through the rhetoric of some religious party. My understanding of Him is an ongoing process. I've continued to discover Him through reading and rereading the Muslim Holy Scriptures and through the various commentaries on the book authored by humanists and not ideologues.

And, here lies the key, I believe.

The Almighty is a perfect entity who created a fluent universe because an evolving universe encourages humans to use their intellect and intuition to advance as both rational and spiritual beings. Muslims were once very good at doing this.

To revive this tradition we need a scientific, intellectual, artistic and spiritual revolution. Not a political one. Politics is inherently amoral.

But, you see, that’s my understanding of my faith as a Muslim and of God. I cannot and refuse to impose it on any other person.

But this is personal stuff, right? What about the other more public musings of a cultural critic?

The past ended for me with the death of my father in 2009 with whom I was very close. The future began with the birth of my nephews and nieces.

What kind of a Pakistan would I like to see them grow up in? What kind of a Pakistan should develop for a whole generation of young Pakistanis who are growing up in an environment of fear and blood-soaked madness?

Being a ‘progressive Muslim nationalist’ the answer to such questions for me goes back to the man who created Pakistan: Muhammad Ali Jinnah.

Ever since Jinnah’s death in 1948, we have been gazing intensely at our navels to figure out what the founder of Pakistan said and/or didn’t say. Many of us have our own set of quotes of a man who passed away just one year after the creation of this country.

For years I have been going through Jinnah’s numerous speeches that he delivered from 1946 until his unfortunate death in 1948.

It seems Jinnah was everything to everyone — a progressive nationalist to the liberals; a faithful religionist to the religious right; a middle-of-the-road Muslim statesman to the moderates.

But the truth, to me, is that first and foremost he was a sharp politician. And like all good politicians, Jinnah was a pragmatist, adjusting his words according to his immediate surroundings.

Also read: The deleted bits from Fatima Jinnah's 'My Brother'

For example, in multicultural Karachi he would insist that the state of Pakistan was to be progressive and democratic.

In Lahore, the scene of vicious Hindu-Muslim riots, and where many clerics had accused him of being a ‘fake Muslim leader’ in 1946, he would take a moderate view, suggesting that the South Asian Muslims had a rich cultural and political history that Pakistan ought to match.

In Peshawar, where Jinnah’s Muslim League had struggled to remain afloat in the face of the challenge posed by the left-leaning Pashtun nationalists, Jinnah appealed to the sensibilities of the conservative tribes and clerics, opposed to the nationalists.

While talking to the Western press he reminded the world that Pakistan was not to be a theological state, but a democratic Muslim-majority state where all citizens, no matter what their religion or ethnicity, would be given equal rights.

Ever since Pakistan’s inception more than six decades ago, its politicians, military dictators and intellectuals from all sides of the ideological divide have talked about working towards building a ‘Jinnah’s Pakistan’.

The liberals and even many moderates have continued to present Jinnah as a progressive Muslim and an unbending democrat. The mainstream religious right and the conservative lot have been hailing him as a champion of ‘Muslim democracy’ and a modern interpreter of an Islamic state.

Left-leaning parties like the populist PPP, and other such groups have been vowing to create a Pakistan based on the progressive vision of Jinnah.

Religious parties like the Jamaat-i-Islami (JI), on the other hand, want a Pakistan based on Jinnah’s desire and commitment of creating a country that would become a bastion and fortress of Islam.

Populist conservative parties such as PML-N, and Imran Khan’s Pakistan Tehreek-i-Insaf (PTI), interpret Jinnah’s vision as something to do with Pakistan being an ‘Islamic Welfare State’.

Then, there have been military dictators as well, all of whom claimed to be following the course laid down by Jinnah.

The secular Ayub Khan dictatorship (1958-69) understood Jinnah as a progressive Muslim statesman.

The Ziaul Haq dictatorship (1977-88) claimed Jinnah to be a fearless Islamic figurehead.

The Musharraf dictatorship (1999-2008) re-figured Jinnah’s image and made him to be a ‘moderate’ again.

But, what exactly was Jinnah’s Pakistan?

This question usually bags numerous differing answers.

No party, military dictator, historian or intellectual trying to address this question has been able to come up with an answer that has enjoyed widespread acceptance.

Jinnah died just too soon after the country’s creation for one to convincingly judge exactly what sort of a Pakistan he really wanted.

Also read: If Jinnah had lived

Between Pakistan’s creation in August 1947 until his death one year later, Jinnah usually spoke according to the nature of his audiences.

He was still in the process of testing the waters and formulating a cohesive idea about Pakistani nationhood when he died. That’s why all that emerged after his demise are just angled interpretations, claims and counter-claims by politicians, ideologues and historians about who Jinnah was and what he wanted.

There is nothing wrong in studying history and, especially, learning from it. But on most occasions than not, this is not really what we have been doing.

We only highlight things about our collective past that are according to what we like and imagine, while shunning, repressing and even decrying those bits that contradict our current stances.

That’s how Jinnah has been seen as well.

Liberals will mark out the progressive views of Jinnah, whereas the conservatives will loudly quote from books that only mention quotes of Jinnah in which he comes across as a faithful conservative.

Today’s existentialist battles in Pakistan are being fought with what the founders of Pakistan said or didn’t say many years ago; a battle of existence that is threatening our future like never before. But it is a battle lacking the desire to construct a vision or a discourse of what is to be done today and tomorrow.

Even while discussing possible future courses, we keep slipping backwards, quoting who said what in the past to supplement our view of Pakistan so it can dominate over the views of our ideological opponents. We seem to be stuck in our own imagined views of history.

With so many Jinnahs floating around, the time has come to create a Jinnah of the future.

By this, I mean a well thought-out, debated and consensual vision of a Pakistan based on today’s realities.

Also read: Refiguring Jinnah

Jinnah should be accepted as a pragmatist who, today, would have addressed issues like extremist violence and acts of bigotry not as an ideologue, but as a pragmatic statesman who would know that such issues were retarding the country’s economic, cultural and political evolution.

He would have understood that the rapid proliferation of conflicting ideas in Pakistan in the last three decades or so have made the bulk of the society increasingly reactive.

The pragmatic Jinnah would not sit on the fence like most of today’s ‘moderates’, and call it a middle-ground.

He would assertively create a real middle-ground between religious conservatism and liberalism, for which he would not hesitate to alter, modify and reform a number of things.

Jinnah would not do this out of any ideological compulsion.

He would do so for the survival of Pakistan — a country torn and plagued by religious and ethnic strife that is bringing its economics and society to a standstill.

The pragmatic Jinnah would try to find unity in diversity and draw from each ethnic culture, as well as from Muslim sects and sub-sects and minority religious groups in the country, choosing the best that they have to offer to Pakistan in developing its economy, its arts, its sports and its reputation as a modern, thriving and vibrant Muslim nation-state.

It’s about time we stop studying and propagating Jinnah as an ideologue. He was an astute and enlightened pragmatist, and pragmatism demands we begin to see him in this light and do today what any enlightened and astute pragmatist would do for the country that he so painstakingly created.

Sex (or controversy) sells. Couple it with Pakistan, and you have got a big story.

Pakistan was caught being naughty again. In what seems to have become a regular occurrence, several news sites, global and local, reported that our nation tops the list of “most porn-searching countries”.

The headline was formed in a way that was meant to assert that it was Google that unveiled this information.

For those who learnt of the story from local news sites, you were probably told that the report was picked from Salon, a US-based current affairs website.

If you read Salon’s version, you will learn that it was picked from another liberal activist blog, Alternet.

In her article on Alternet, Carrie Weisman writes:

However, there was no link to the "data released by Google" which Carrie refers to.

What Google says about the report

Anyone who works in digital content production – blogger, journalist or editor – knows that Google seldom releases data on any matter whatsoever. Rather, its search data has always been available under many of its web analytics products, with Google Analytics and Google Trends being the most widely used.

So, where did Weismann get this data from?

My best guess would be Google Trends. But why take my word for it?

Here is what the relevant Google employee said in his email over this specific issue:

"Google has not released any data related to adult searches in Pakistan, so in the case of the referenced Salon.com article, there was no official source link.

"This could be a case of our publicly available Google Trends tool being used incorrectly. Any user can type in a search term and get a rough idea which countries are searching for a term the most. For example, what I've done in this Google Trends example shows that Pakistan is the top country in the world searching for 'cricket'. You can replace 'cricket' with other words and the results would vary.

"The bottom line is, Trends findings are indicative, but certainly not definitive. It doesn't reflect the content that is out there, just what people are searching for. Plenty of other variables should be considered: e.g. number of Internet users per country, gender spread, local colloquial terms."

There you go.

To clarify further

Google Trends is a nifty tool that illustrates search term popularity over a period of time. It can also narrow popularity by region. It has been put to good use, like in the US, where it tries to make flu season predictions.

It has also been used to spread misinformation in matters like porn habits across the world.

All the news stories on this porn popularity matter bank on the notion that Google Trends produces objective studies of real-time scenarios, which is simply not true.

The data from Google Trends gets normalised. This means that the results you see are achieved by dividing the numbers of search results of the term that you input with “a common variable, like total searches.”

Therefore, the results on Google Trends are relative, not absolute (or as Google puts it, 'indicative', not 'definitive').

Furthermore, the effectiveness of Google Trends in real-time scenarios is disputed at best.

In 2011, a study by Wellesley College on the predictability of US Congressional Elections through Google search trends concluded that there was no strong correlation between search popularity and likelihood of winning.

Just so everyone's clear on this, Carrie Weisman's 'information' could not have been derived from Google Analytics either.

Thing is, under Google Analytics, any user had the option of keyword (or search term) research, but once Google started securing its traffic with HTTPS in 2011, the availability of keyword data significantly reduced. Finally in 2013, the plug was pulled on this feature.

Therefore, the Alternet article is not based on data from Google Analytics. (Some would argue that Google Keyword Tool is a replacement; however, the Keyword Tool provides ideas on keyword quality which is more beneficial towards its advertisement product.)

The many caveats of Google Trends

The best way to find out the answer to this whole porn uproar is to open up Google Trends yourself, and go on a trends-search rampage for all possible porn-related words. If Pakistan features highly on most terms, you'll know it's popular.

But never will you know for sure, even for one single term, whether the search volume was highest in Pakistan compared to other countries.

Try this.

Say you search for the term 'porn'. The following graph comes up:

Screenshot of a Google Trends search for 'porn' in Pakistan.

Notice that the trend for this keyword peaked in June 2012, and has been falling after that. So if Google Trends is the yardstick, then it seems Pakistanis are losing interest in searching for porn – a winning headline right there!

Similar observations are seen on the search for 'sex'. Apparently, Pakistanis were most interested in sex in November 2009, and have been getting bored with it ever since. Another fabulous ' authentic finding'.

Screenshot of a Google Trends search for 'sex' in Pakistan.

At this point, please do remember the Google representative said: "Plenty of other variables should be considered: e.g. number of Internet users per country, gender spread, local colloquial terms."

Do birds have sex?

Here is another fun factor: searching for trends with and without quotation marks (because these are two vastly different searches).

For instance, here's how Pakistan fares in a bird sex (sans quotation marks) search on Trends:

And here's how it fares in a "bird sex" (with quotation marks) search on Trends:

Searching without quotation marks includes every search hit which had the words 'bird' and 'sex' in it, including the question: 'Do birds have sex?'.

Searching with quotation marks reduces the results to Google hits on the exact term "bird sex", in which India leads and search volume in most of the world is too low to be tabulated.

See how it works? Google Trends is biased towards search term density. Now imagine the headline:

Indians have strange fascination with "bird sex"

But that's crazy. The term "bird sex" may not necessarily be that popular in India; it may actually have gotten more hits in the US. But if it's more popular in India than other terms are, India will be coloured darker.

With that reasoning, it's understandable why conservative Muslim countries like Pakistan are ranking so highly on these lists – for people in third-world countries like ours, the internet has long been the go-to avenue for all things taboo, mostly porn.

Using the internet for mostly porn and using the internet for porn along with other stuff are two different things.

Since Pakistan is guilty of the former, it ranks fairly high on most pornographic Google Trends. But if it maintains its porn search volume at the same level while doubling its search volume for other terms, it is bound to fall in these rankings.

Of responsible journalism

In 2010, Fox News also pushed a similar story about Pakistan being the top porn searcher. A few days later, Dawn quoted a Google official:

“We do our best to provide accurate data and to provide insights into broad search patterns, but the results for a given query, such as those reported in this story from Pakistan, may contain inaccuracies because the sample size is too small for the results to be statistically sound.”

The lesson for journalists? There is nothing wrong with using Google Trends, but using its data erroneously to build gross misinterpretation is not on.

Let us be honest: we know Pakistanis like their guilty pleasures. We know that from Google Trends. But equally true is the fact that we cannot prove it from Trends. And we definitely cannot say we rank highest in the world.

Also read: I deny watching porn publically, but …

Interestingly, the versions on Salon and Alternet cannot be accused of a false insinuation; they are not claiming anything beyond a general trend in porn interest. The versions in our local papers, though, are a different story.

It is best not to buy into this sensationalism. In this era of mass information, there always will be misinformation. There will always be articles with clickbait headlines and stories banking on controversy for their share value.

The onus lies upon us, the readers as much as the journalists.

We need to take a stand and share with responsibility.

Service

On the morning of January 27, 1966, on my seventh birthday, I was handed a postcard from my father, Mir Ijaz (Tony) Mahmood. He had fought like blazes in the 1965 war and, in the span of a few weeks, succeeded in wounding himself, carrying his bleeding subaltern to safety, routing and capturing enemy troops, winning two medals for valour, and graduating from his beloved 4th Frontier Force Regiment to raise a new battalion (the vaunted 23rd Frontier Force Regiment, recently deployed in Waziristan). In early 1966, he was on a French language course at the Sorbonne: why the Pakistan Army needed French-speaking officers still eludes me.

On one side, the postcard had that classical shot of a tourist boat making its way under one of the bridges the ancient city of Paris has elegantly tossed across the River Seine.

On the other side, the postcard had a note from my father:

“Many happy returns of the day. May you always be of service to Pakistan.”

These words, so naturally penned and so genuinely received, acted as a baton of responsibility on a track that has not readily admitted of service.

My father was a member of the singular “IMA-PMA” cadet training program: cadets who had joined the unified Indian Military Academy in 1946 and graduated from the first cohort of the Pakistan Military Academy in 1948.

For both the first generation of Pakistanis, to which Jinnah belonged and Iqbal has been inducted, and the second generation of Pakistanis, to which my father belonged, the concept of “service to Pakistan” was sufficiently clear.

As Jinnah had envisioned, Pakistan would be a pluralistic Muslim state, and would enable all Muslims, in the full diversity into which their faith had flowered over fourteen centuries, and all Hindus and Christians to live and progress in harmony. As Iqbal had envisioned, Pakistan would enable Muslims to realise their khudi, their individual selfhood, and in doing so bear witness to the oneness of God.

But, even if the concept of Pakistan was clear, we have failed to serve that concept.

My father died and was buried recently in Dhaka. My wife’s father, a Bengali intellectual, had also died in Dhaka. He had been killed in 1971 by the very army my father served.

We never found his body.

In the Dhaka of 1971, we also killed, without administering rites of burial, our service to the ideals of Jinnah and Iqbal: we had treated the people of East Pakistan neither as equal citizens, nor as individual Muslims.

My father quietly left the army he loved so much in 1972.

Each time I visit Pakistan, I am staggered by the profound service commitment of the people I meet – social workers, soldiers, teachers, government servants, homemakers and merchants. I cannot help but realize how the country of my birth is kept alive by the daily service of its people.

Yes, the instinct to service is alive and well in Pakistan. But service has become privatised: we serve in a narrow, private capacity; or we serve wildly divergent causes. Some of us serve those from our baradari, some of us the Wahabi interpretation of Islam; we serve, and we clash in the objects of our service.

How may I fulfill my deceased father’s imperative: “may you always be of service to Pakistan”?

How may we all serve the inclusive, generous and passionate Pakistan that Jinnah and Iqbal had envisioned?

Individuality

My father left this world, at the age of 86 years, with little accomplished in terms of what mattered to him least: wealth and social position. But he left this world with much accomplished in terms of what mattered to him most.

He cherished engaging with people in their vernacular, and mastered Punjabi (the language of the home), English (the language of the world), Persian (the language of poetry), Urdu (the language of the nation), Pashto (the language of the frontier, where he spent his formative years as a soldier), and French (the language of sophistication).

He loved Urdu poetry, and would recite Ghalib and Iqbal for the duration of our drives between Abbottabad and Rawalpindi. He was equally taken by early 20th century English prose and was adept in reciting Churchill and Wilde.

He wrote two picaresque books of his adventures in Pakistan and around the world.

He loved sports, and played polo for Pakistan, hockey for his regiment, cricket for the Government College Lahore, and reached the top tier of amateur squash in the country. He had a passion for bridge, and made up in erratic flair what he lacked in terms of systemic depth.

He was a past master in the military details of the conflicts that have shaped the past two centuries. He enjoyed women on an episodic basis, and had two marriages and a modest succession of satisfactory affairs.

And, he retained always his soldier’s panache: in his 70s, he gathered a posse of soldiers and policemen and handily rescued his kidnapped father-in-law from one of the infamous brigand wadis of Sindh.

My father was an individual, and what Shereen and Amina, my sisters, and I learned most from him was that, at its truest level, individuality is only achieved through complete honesty.

To be an individual, you must have the personal honesty to search inside yourself and understand the wellsprings of your passion and, painfully, the limits of your being.

To be an individual, you must have the intellectual honesty to fight against the current, to speak your mind, to live if need be at the margins of society.

Honesty is the discipline through which we achieve individuality.

For much of my life, I imagined that my father’s emphasis on individuality derived principally from his, and his father’s, Western orientation, and secondarily from the circumstance of being born into a Kashmiri-Punjabi family that had the social luxury to encourage its offspring to do what they will.

It was only after September 11, 2001 that I began a thorough study of my Muslim faith. I found, deep within the heart of Islam, the call to individuality. I had always imagined that Islam required the submission of individual conscience to communal judgment.

As I delved deeper into the meaning of Islam, I began to realise how completely wrong I had been.

Among my various guides to the Quran and the Hadith– the historians and the biographers, the schools of Sharia jurisprudence, the sufis, the medieval scholars ranging from Al-Ghazzali to Ibn Tammiyah, and the modernists – I found our own Allama Iqbal to be exceptionally illuminating on the question of individuality in Islam.

Few Pakistanis ever bother to read Iqbal’s The Reconstruction of Religious Thought in Islam; I cannot recommend this slim book more highly.

Iqbal emphasises that God has a direct relationship with each individual, that all life is individual, that God has imbued a spiritual essence in each individual human being.

“[Islam] demands loyalty to God, not to thrones. And since God is the ultimate spiritual basis of all life, loyalty to God virtually amounts to man’s loyalty to his own ideal nature” [page 147].

The individual bears witness to God by realising his or her own spiritual essence, and it is the individual’s own self-willed path of spiritual realisation that God, and God alone, will judge.

Nations and communities are constructs of this world; they live and perish in this world; it is only the individual spirit that transcends to the hereafter.

“It is one of the most essential teachings of the Quran that nations are collectively judged, and suffer for their misdeeds here and now” [page138].

According to Iqbal, our Prophet (peace be upon him), as the final prophet of God, opened up the possibility and the imperative for the individual to summon all sources of knowledge – divine revelation, inner experience and nature and history – to realise his or her spiritual essence:

“[T]he Prophet of Islam seems to stand between the ancient and the modern world. In so far as the source of his revelation is concerned he belongs to the ancient world; in so far as the spirit of his revelation is concerned he belongs to the modern world. In him life discovers other sources of knowledge suitable to its new direction. … In Islam prophecy reaches its perfection in discovering the need of its own abolition. This involves the keen perception that life cannot for ever be kept in leading strings; that, in order to achieve full self-consciousness, man must finally be thrown back on his own resources. … [T]he Quran regards both ‘Anfus’ (self) and ‘Afaq’ (world) as sources of knowledge. God reveals His signs in inner as well as outer experience, and it is the duty of man to judge the knowledge-yielding capacity of all aspects of experience” [pages 126-127].

Our path to nationhood, and to spiritual fulfilment, lies in the maturation of our individuality and our self-consciousness.

Love

When my father died, we were assailed not by an outpouring of grief, but an outpouring of stories.

Not commiseration from friends and family, but stories of his individual relationships with each member of each human network.

Not grief from nephews and nieces, but stories of how he had encouraged this one to draw, that one to become more self-confident, this one to overcome her sense of loss of a parent, that one to play better tennis.

Not simply prayers from serving and retired soldiers, but details of how he had infected them with his love of service and his love of the army, and taught them to search for their larger personality within the unlived lines of their lives.

Stories from a Bengali electrician whom he exhorted to greater exactitude, from a tableeghi Pakhtun who he helped build a career, from an English art dealer with whom he shared his love of Impressionism, from a Singaporean businessman whom he had taken up as a bridge partner, from an Indian divorcee to whom he provided companionship. Stories from his grandchildren; one of who took to calling him ‘grandbrother’ in order to align the nomenclature of their relationship to its reality.

We are all parents and spouses and cousins and colleagues; the only slivers of genuine meaning derived from such relationships. I think my father was genuinely meaningful to so many people because he lovingly connected with each person, as one individual to another, and helped spark in each some sense of possibility, some affection, some humor, some happiness, and always some recognition of individuality.

My father loved life and he loved people. Individuality unbounded leads to anarchy and terror. Individuality embedded in service and love leads to a meaningful life and a nurturing community. No one can say how God will judge my father, but perhaps He will take into account my father’s service, his individuality, and his love.

Jinnah did not create Pakistan because he wanted to wage war on India; he created our country so that its people could serve each other more effectively.

Iqbal did not call for a homeland for Muslims so he could impose a unitary vision of Islam; he made the call to inspire each individual to spiritual self-realisation.

The people of Pakistan have been blessed by the vision of Jinnah and Iqbal.

We would do well to understand these men more fully, and to incorporate their thinking into our lives. I will strive to do so, with the proximate example of my father.

Service. Individuality. Love.

"Is today the day I shall send my kids to school and regret for the rest of my life?" is the dilemma that parents in Pakistan wake up to each morning now.

The looming shadow of terrorism that hovers over our kids is consuming us, parents, to the point of a nervous breakdown. We are raising our kids in an environment where even the basic right, the harmless act of sending kids to school has become a subject of national debate.

As the extended winter vacations came to an end, parents looked up to the national security policy to ensure their children's safety at schools. The security measures are promising, no doubt, and schools have been vigilantly following the government's instructions in providing security to students.

But, at the same time, terrified citizens also fear repercussions and revenge killings by terrorists in the aftermath of the military's crackdown on terrorism. Such fears are further solidified by threatening video releases, rumours of coffins thrown inside prominent educational institutions and alleged threatening letters received by various school administrators. One may question the validity of such fears, but low attendance rate in schools depict we are losing the psychological warfare.

See: After deadly Taliban attack, Army Public School reopens today

We have largely been a resilient nation, with an amazing capacity to laugh at life's absurdities and withstand oddities.

We have stood tall with indefatigable smiles in times of political turmoils, economic recessions, natural disasters and social unrest.

Yet, unfortunately, the recent Peshawar tragedy and the perpetual fear of losing our little ones is taking its toll on us.

Pakistan today suffers a deficit of hope.

Media coverage of the latest national tragedy is pathetic and hopeless. On the one hand, it reinforces the horrors of December 16, and on the other, it confuses the nation about the identity of our real enemy.

Also read: When will our news channels learn to cover tragedy?

The coverage of known Taliban apologists who refused to condemn the attacks was simply uncalled for. Sadly, most opinion leaders in Pakistan – usually people of religious credentials and political omniscience – shied away from declaring Taliban as the real enemy.

They instead deliberately misled masses into believing in the wrong enemy, particularly India. With the kind of melodramatic, pessimistic and stagnant media coverage over the APS attacks, one might say that the media still needs to go a long way in order to reclaim professionalism. It is failing to provide masses their much sought after antidotes, hope and reassurance.

The army chief's appearance at the APS was reassuring. Similarly, gestures from the boxer Amir Khan and from our cricket team were much needed. International celebrities, particularly Indians, wrote pieces too, and they made occasional highlights on our media.

Also read: Peshawar attack: Anupam Kher writes open letter to terrorists

Sadly, the absence of our own celebrities at this occasion has been pathetically obvious. It sends the impression that they are either too oblivious or too afraid to speak up.

In every society, there are a few who are looked upon as role models. Their words leave impressions on ordinary minds, their resolve taken up by masses. Pakistani students and parents want to hear words of reassurance from the nation's opinion leaders – those who can stand out and reassure or lead by example that they are not afraid in sending their own kids to school.

Such testimonials by celebrity parents, teachers and students of the APS who have resumed schooling after the attacks is strongly required to uplift the considerably low national morale. The national tragedy has broken us down, but the same can be instrumental in building up our fractured nationalism.

The terrorists have attacked our national psyche. Let us reassert our normalcy and reclaim our lives from terrorism. We have done it earlier, we will do it again.

All we need is a little wind to sail our boats.

Related:

Burnt human flesh, once more
From Peshawar, with tears of blood
Our denial killed children in Peshawar

I have taken up the task of penning a eulogy for King Abdullah of Saudi Arabia, who has passed away at the age of 90. One may have to pardon my insufficient zeal, which is somewhat blunted by the King’s performance in the last 14 years of his reign.

Ascending to the throne in 2005, King Abdullah was hailed as a “reformer”. Some steps were taken to help the Kingdom reach up to the social standard expected of an economically stable country in the 21st century.

Women were allowed to vote – 2015 may be the first time Saudi women get to exercise this right, if all goes as planned. It might not seem like a great deal in the given time period where suffrage is considered rather pedestrian, but for the ultraconservative Saudi system, it finally means that the Kingdom will no longer be a total masculocracy.

Explore: Looking back: The political life of late King Abdullah

Also, disregarding the ire of more conservative sheikhs, King Abdullah took the unprecedented step of inaugurating a ‘co-educational’ university at the staggering cost of $12 billion. This, in addition to him spending lavishly on scholarships programs for young Saudis to study in Western universities, may well be his greatest legacy.

His government also spent $130 billion to provide accommodation to poorer citizens, and increased wages to lower level government officials. He even rebuked senior clergymen for failing to speak out against ISIS with deserved ferocity.

Then there were the darker aspects of the Saudi rule, which I hesitate to discuss in a world where posthumous extolment is the norm.

As a long-time critic of Saudi Arabia’s domestic and foreign policies, it would be disingenuous of me to roll out a sappy ode to the deceased monarch, to whom I’ve dedicated much blog space for negative evaluation.

Also read: King Abdullah of Saudi Arabia obituary

The punishments handed out by Saudi Arabia have recently been compared with those awarded by ISIS, by an infographic circulating on Twitter. These including lashing, stoning, amputations and beheadings for 'crimes' such as blasphemy, homosexual acts, slander, adultery and witchcraft.

Most recently, a Saudi blogger was sentenced to 1,000 lashes for insulting Saudi clerics. A recent video of a screaming woman beheaded by Saudi authorities in full public view, sparked further outrage.

Despite some improvements, Saudi women remain second-class citizens without the freedom to as much as leave their homes independently.

The expanded definition of terrorism in Saudi Arabia now includes 'atheism'.

Immigrants and religious minorities in Saudi Arabia stand at the cusp of abandoning hope entirely.

On a global scale, the Saudi regime has frequently been accused of seeding religious fanaticism. It’s known to have supported the Islamist fighters in Syria against the dictator Bashar Al-Assad, and urged its ally, the United States, to intervene similarly.

Take a look: Federal minister accuses Saudi govt of destabilising Muslim world

The Kingdom is now seen constructing a 600-mile wall to fend off ISIS, whose formation Saudi Arabia may very well have contributed to, even if indirectly so.

According to a leaked US diplomatic cable, King Abdullah encouraged America to attack Iran and “cut off the head of the snake”; a statement consistent with his unwavering anti-shia sentiment and actions.

Furthermore, a Wikileaks cable reveals the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia as an unabashed sponsor of terrorist networks around the world, with the US Secretary of State expressing grave concern for the matter in a secret memo.

A controversy also erupted closer to King Abdullah’s home after his daughters, Sahar and Jawaher, accused him of holding them hostage in their own home, to spite his ex-wife.

“If he does that to his own children, how do you think the rest of the country is?” Princess Jawaher cried.

See: European Parliament identifies Wahabi and Salafi roots of global terrorism

Most of the problems I have mentioned could be marked down as systemic failures, having little to do with the ruler personally. But recall that this is not a democracy where blame may be conveniently distributed among influential congressmen, senators and judges attempting to block reform being pushed by the head of state.

The King holds absolute, unquestionable authority.

With the kind of wealth and power vested unto him, it is clear that he could have done far more than what he chose to do.

While His Majesty’s successor, Prince Salman, is not particularly known for his liberal ideals, we dare to hope that he rethinks Saudi Arabia's policy of exporting puritanical ideals in politically volatile countries, and focuses on social failures at home.