For too long, the Indo-Pak dialogue has been held hostage by bellicose jingoists on both sides, and Faisal Qureshi’s video response to Saif Ali Khan’s controversial film epitomises our countries' combined misfortune.

It must be admitted that Saif’s statement about losing faith in Pakistan because of Phantom being banned is somewhat lacking in awareness of how India itself deals with Pakistani art productions, which get banned over there too.

Mahira Khan never shook her fist at Maharashtra, after Bin Roye’s screening was inexplicably prohibited there, ostensibly under pressure from Bal Thackrey’s ultra right-wing Navnirman Sena – an organisation often implicated in violent Hindu-Muslim clashes.

Regrettably, it happens often in our countries where freedom of artistic expression remains limited; and getting offended by even mildly unflattering depiction of one’s country as a cause of cross-border strife, has achieved the status of a national hobby.

Far more obnoxious, however, was TV persona Faisal Qureshi’s 12-minute video in response to an ignorant, yet harmless statement by Saif Ali Khan.

Brazenly stuffed with threats and counter-threats to India’s integrity as sovereign neighbour, the video embodies the worst of Pakistan that the nuanced arbitrators and rationalists here have long battled.

Using ad hominem attacks galore in place of real argument, Faisal Qureshi launches a puerile diatribe against Saif, at times in a mortifying baby-voice.

The video is a fact-checker’s waking nightmare.

He flatly dismisses the claim that watching pirated movies is common in Pakistan. A show of hands, all readers below 35 years of age who think a ‘torrent’ is just another word for a ‘rapid stream of water’?

He proudly states that Pakistanis don’t like spending their money on “ghatiya” Indian movies; evidenced, of course, by recently packed theaters all across Pakistan playing Bajrangi Bhaijan.

He chides India for having no capacity to respond to Pakistan’s (justified, by his assessment) attacks on Indian soil, and smugly throws in a Tiger Hill, Kargil reference. Blissfully, he ignores the fact that India has nearly twice as many troops as Pakistan, with a clear head-start of 24 years in militarising atomic energy.

The object is not to undersell Pakistan’s own military capabilities, but to address the commonly-held delusion that our unique valour and conviction in our own righteousness will alone, somehow, disarm the neighbor and helps us overrun it.

Also read: Dear India, sing this!

Given the brutal, internecine nature of the wars previously fought, such pugnacity is perched on a high degree of historical ignorance, and should be best avoided like a used syringe.

A good part of the video is spent fulminating against a contentious line in the film delivered by Saif Ali’s Khan’s character as he vows to infiltrate Pakistan for killing terrorists hiding here; treating it as the actor’s personal aspiration.

Qureshi’s inability to distinguish an actor from his character is as absurd as a person refusing to attend Heath Ledger’s funeral for his role in blowing up a hospital and nearly killing Batman.

On numerous instances, we find Qureshi standing on the verge of making a reasonable counterargument, but never quite gets there as he invariably ends each point with hollow chest-thumping and bald-faced muscle-flexing.

In fact, the sanest part of the video, is the 100-second clip of Modi’s interview by Karan Thapar, being served as Qureshi’s argument-by-proxy. The remainder of the video is spent establishing Qureshi’s political ignorance and outright inability in making a point without resorting to insults.

Which brings me to the most embarrassing part of the video.

Faisal Qureshi puts his raging misogynism on exhibition for both our nations to marvel at, by using female words like “sahiba” and “bachi” to degrade Saif Ali Khan and delegitimise his stance.

Portraying Indo-Pak conflict as a territorial dispute among siblings, he purposely jibes India as the ‘behen’ in the relationship. He ends his video with a scene from one of Saif’s movies where he dances in drag to ‘Sheila ki Jawani’, implying that Saif is too feminine to be taken seriously.

Given the degree of overlap between jingoists and misogynists, as both represent people unable to process the humanity of ‘outgroups’, it is likely that both these kinds of Pakistanis howled “Yeh cheez!” before hitting the ‘like’ button on this 12-minute travesty.

All others stood in awe of the depths we’ve fallen to, knowing that this video would be eviscerated by Indians on social media as effortlessly as Pakistanis spoofed the over-exuberant Indian anchor who recently found “proof” of Dawood Ibrahim living in Karachi.

I would not be commenting on videos such as these if they were merely distasteful. We have a responsibility to be able to distinguish patriotism from blind nationalism, and messages such as these being aired from both sides of the border, do nothing but maintain our fondness for mutually destructive warfare.

This last Eid, as I was walking through the dusty old alleys of Nazimabad 5-C – paying visits to age-old community members and families from the time of my grandfather’s era – I couldn’t help but notice one striking change in these slow-paced streets. It wasn’t the droning of generators in the occasional house or the new trend of lego-block flats towering over smaller housing plots.

It was a “click”; an insistent sound coupled with the voice of children.

Every corner I turned, I heard it one after the other – this clicking sound was occasionally followed by the complaint of a kid who had been 'hit'. In the short walks on these streets, I noticed more replica guns than I had seen in real, just about everywhere.

I could swear I saw every next kid on that street with a “charray” (pellet) pistol in his hand, firing away – click! click! click! As I dodged the occasional misfire, I was struck by this show of blatant disregard for life – a lack of compassion and empathy passed on from parent, teacher, society to child.

We, ourselves, are encouraging a gun culture around us. And yet, we complain about it with a staggering hypocrisy.

I cannot recall seeing such sophisticated and realistic toy guns before. It was one thing to play ‘cowboys and Indians’ with rainbow-coloured plastic toys or pump-action water guns. But these real-looking military-like guns in the hands of our children must not be taken lightly.

Earlier this year, two young boys were shot at (one of whom died) while taking a selfie with a toy gun by a trigger-happy police in Punjab. The bitter irony of this tragic incident epitomised a sickness that the closeness to guns can bring on a society.

The boys were fond of replica guns, the police mistook them for real ones and shot them (a reaction which may be unjustified even if the guns were real), in the process exposing their own tendency of firearm abuse.

What a cruel joke.

Also read: US police shoot dead 12-year-old boy holding toy gun

Another occasion our doomed proximity with weapons manifested itself in, was the move to allow teachers in K-P to carry firearms. It ultimately resulted in what many of us feared from the beginning: the accidental death of a schoolchild in Swat.

That is why I welcomed the resolution tabled in Sindh Assembly earlier this month, which sought to enforce a ban on toy guns. Lawmakers and civil society members have implemented or are seeking similar bans in Punjab and K-P.

One might chide these moves as irrelevant and useless to our very real terrorism problems, wrought with real guns. But, the fact is, we have now seen target killers emerge from even the more educated and affluent sections of our society, and that the 'real terrorism' is happening in the same streets that our kids play in.

The lines are further blurred thanks to the dark times we live in; when even the 'good side' is not seen without a huge cache of weapons of their own. That makes it all the more important to teach our kids that guns exist only as a necessary evil and are not a normal way of life. The culture of violence and aggression should not be glorified.

See: Three teens held for ‘toy gun robbery’

Otherwise, we are essentially desensitising the concept of death by firearm – making our children’s minds numb to the loss of life in a very subtle way.

Let us not be passive about this matter. Our kids should have a childhood that is violence-free – even in their make-believe worlds – so that they are allowed to grow up into peace-loving adults.

Like other villages in the Gujar Khan Tehsil in Punjab, I was drawn to Narali because it boasts of some of the most wonderful historical monuments in the country. Before partition, Narali was known as the hub of trade in the region.

Located about four kilometers north of Daultala town, the village houses a temple of Radhe Sham, including a water tank, more commonly known as the Narali Pond, and multiple Sikh and Hindu havelis.

The view of the Radhe Sham Temple, Narali Pond and a haveli.

The Rade Sham Temple is a very tall structure which dominates the landscape of Narali. The two-storied temple is superimposed with a shikhara– both the lower and upper storeys have arched openings.

The lower storey served as a sanctum and the upper had a statue of the deity so that devotees could have visual interaction or Darshan from a distance. This was possibly done keeping in mind the rigid Hindu caste system in which the Dalits, who belong to the lower level of the caste hierarchy and were not allowed to share the same space, could view the deity from afar.

Rade Sham Temple.

Inscription inside the temple.

I found it particularly interesting to find a large area of the Potohar region dotted with temples of the elites or the upper castes of the time, namely the Brahmans and Kshtriyas, and even the Vaisyas. However, there in not a single temple here that was built by the Sudras, Harijans or the Dalits.

The Radhe Sham Temple is noted for being the tallest temple in Potohar. With the exception of two temples (in Taxila and Rawalpindi), it is unusual to find to tall temples like this one in Pakistan.

Rade Sham Temple.

The temple is square in architectural plan. With both the lower and upper storeys, including the shikhara also square shaped. Floral paintings decorate the inner walls of the temple; unfortunately, the paintings on the outer walls have not withstood the ravages of time, only fading traces of their glory remain.

A huge water tank sits at the heart of this village. On its west wall is a staircase leading up to the pond. The southern wall carries an inscription bearing the name of the builder;

“Built by Harnam Singh, Survey Superintendent in memory of his father Teja Singh and his uncle Sant Sahib Singh in 1929”.

The Narali Pond is styled in ancient masonry. I have yet to come across such fine brickwork in any of the villages surrounding Narali.

Apart from the temple and the pond, Narali also has four exquisite havelis. One of the havelis is situated on the southern bank of the pond. This haveli, a double-storeyed building, has elaborate stucco work on it. The main entrance of the haveli is flanked by two doors; all the doors have intricate carvings. Above the central door are distinctive floral designs in stucco.

Also read: The havelis of Potohar: Pakistan's opportunity to promote heritage tourism

The havelis are all located 200 meters west of the Radhe Sham temple in a narrow alley; carrying distinct wooden balconies.

The narrow alleys of Narali.

The more imposing of the havelis are the ones with a square tower up top, a standard feature of the Potohari haveli.

The havelis of Bakshi Ram Singh in Kontrilla, Atam Singh in Daultala, Khem Singh Bedi Haveli in Kallar Syedan and the Wah Haveli all have similar towers. The wooden balconies on the havelis portray the aesthetics of both the builder and the owner.

A Narali haveli.

This haveli overlookes the Narali Pond.

A decorative niche on one of the havelis.

It was heartbreaking to see these fabulous works of architecture in ruins; especially when one realises the potential for tourism that this historic village of Narali holds.

I urge the Punjab government to put up hoardings with directions to these monuments. Moreover, the Punjab tourism department must involve the local community in the preservation of the monuments of Narali and their historical significance, lest they be forgotten.

A few years ago, British columnist and whip-smart funny woman Caitlin Moran wrote about the particular breed of sexism she often encountered.

"These days," she said, "sexism is a bit like Meryl Streep in a new film: sometimes you don’t recognise it straightaway. You can be 20 minutes in, enjoying all the dinosaurs and the space fights and the homesick Confederate soldiers, before you go, "Oh, my God-under the wig! THAT’S MERYL."

Moran was drawing attention to how sexism continues to define a woman's life even in nations that appear to have absorbed, at least on paper, the rule that people must not be discriminated against on the basis of gender. Call it casual sexism, everyday sexism, call it what you will. It exists, and identifying it is important.

Following Pakistani media almost makes me yearn for a place where sexism is Meryl Streep, and so, poles apart from Pakistan, where sexism is more like Humayun Saeed: utterly enduring, omnipresent, glowering at you from every medium possible, making an appearance in everything all at once.

So of course, sexism managed to shimmy into this past week's biggest social media storm too — a storm involving the film Phantom, Saif Ali Khan, a Pakistani TV presenter, Mawra Hocane, Shaan Shahid, and just about every other person with internet access.

It all began with TV presenter-slash-pundit-slash-foot-in-mouther Faisal Qureshi's little rant about Saif Ali Khan.

Actually, Faisal Qureshi, your video was sexist by any measure

In response to Saif Ali Khan saying he doesn't "have faith in Pakistan" after his upcoming film Phantom (based on the 2006 Mumbai attacks) was banned by a Pakistani court, Faisal Qureshi set up a video camera, popped on a microphone and proceeded to get sexist.

During the course of his 12-minute video, which has been watched over a million times, Qureshi schools Khan in India-Pakistan relations ("we're like two brothers fighting over an inheritance," he says), piracy in Pakistan ("we only watch pirated Indian films so that, God willing, your economy goes down the tubes," he says) and a whole host of other misconceptions the actor might've had.

Also read: Faisal Qureshi’s rant targeting Saif Ali Khan is not ‘patriotism’

But this isn't the worst of Qureshi's rant. Qureshi uses his choicest insult strategically, at the video's beginning, end, and a few well-timed moments in the middle. This is when he lashes out at Saif with the ultimate affront: he calls him a woman.

"Janab Saif Ali Khan Sahiba— dekho beti," he begins (Miss Saif Ali Khan — look here, my girl). Later, he calls Khan a "little girl," and inexplicably says "little girls don't stay awake after 8pm, and if they do, they don't watch films like James Bond or Mission Impossible... and little girls like you, especially, shouldn't watch films like Cat Woman."

What's so troubling about this video is how, for Qureshi, women, womanhood and being a woman are the worst things in the world. What better way to belittle a famous Bollywood actor than to call him a woman? In this context, in calling Khan a woman Qureshi's achieved a multitude of victories all at once: he's called into question Khan's manhood, he's dismissed him as an insensible, idiotic, brainless creature and he's established his own superiority in comparison to a waif. Because, of course, that's how he views women.

Like so many in Pakistan (and across the globe), for Qureshi the catch-all phrase "women" is a convenient repository for his hate, a dumping ground for his anathema, a target to which every ill felt by man — economic, social, religious — can be directed. Womanhood is synonymous with shame and disgust, because woman are, by virtue, inferior.

At best, this attitude is expressed by treating women with good-humoured tolerance, as if a woman was a pesky pet and a man it's benevolent owner. At worst, it leads to atrociously unfair legislation and the very real threat of violence. Both attitudes are equally misogynistic, by the way.

When called out on the misogyny evident in his video, Qureshi shot back on Twitter with the response "If I called u a pig wud (sic) I insult the pig?", by which I presume he means that he wasn't insulting all women, he was just insulting Saif Ali Khan by calling him a woman.

Which, of course, is one and the same thing. The moment you use a person's identity as a slur, you're making clear your revulsion for everything that person is and stands for. No one who called anyone a homo was feeling loving towards homosexuals. No one who called anyone the N-word held the black community in highest esteem. Similarly, no one who calls anyone a woman as an insult has respect for women.

As long as we associate womanhood with virtues we might consider inferior we continue to perpetuate sexism and sexist stereotypes. This should be obvious, I think. It never ceases to amaze me that to some people it isn't.

Enter Shaan, and a hate campaign against Mawra

Unfortunately, the blatant sexism didn't end there. In response to the stir Phantom had caused, actress Mawra Hocane took to Twitter and said of the film: "If it's anti-terrorism... then yes I'm anti terrorism, it doesn't matter which land I belong to. I'm pro humanity and love and that's that." She followed this statement up with: "i would like to watch Phantom and then decide whether it's good or bad... And that's exactly what everyone should do..."

When compared with Faisal Qureshi's take on Phantom, Mawra's opinions are incredibly measured; urging restraint rather than knee-jerk jingoism. But actor Shaan Shahid didn't see it this way. He kickstarted a campaign to #BanMawra, asking: "Should we banned (sic) actress like her who is supporting anti pakistan movie?"

As responses to Shaan's question poured in, they quickly took a predictably nasty tone. It's now commonly accepted that online stalking and harassment affects more young women than men, and this time Mawra was the victim.

Commentators began assassinating her character and calling her unprintable, gender-specific names, the kind of insults only used against women when the object is to use shame to assert male dominance and authority.

The amount of vitriol was truly shocking, and all the anger ever felt towards Saif Ali Khan or Phantom appeared to be suddenly projected upon Mawra.

Following this, in a Facebook response to Shaan, Mawra claimed that one of the two categories of people the actor likes to "bash" are women, "of course because you're a man."

Mawra's post is one of the few times a Pakistani actress has directly and publicly called out a peer for being sexist, and I have to thank her for that.

In fact, Mawra's response is the only thing that makes this whole farce bearable. That she doesn't apologise for standing up for herself and doesn't shirk from embracing her ambition is utterly refreshing, and something we need to see more of.

It is a necessary first step towards righting a balance of opinion which has, of late, been skewed in favour of men who have displayed shocking amounts of sexism, hate and intolerance on TV and in social media largely unchecked.

Also read: Junaid Jamshed in hot water again over sexist remark. Social media responds

To me, this whole incident is less about Phantom, patriotism, or India-Pakistan relations and more about national character as it relates to gender. Because really, regardless of whether Saif Ali Khan's comment was a planned publicity stunt or a heartfelt rant, the truth is that right now he's the party least affected by the frenzied response in Pakistan. We are the bigger losers — the women who've been belittled by Faisal Qureshi's video and the men who've been taught, yet again, that it's OK to be sexist.

It brings home a point Jibran Nasir made in a video response to this furor, also posted on Facebook. Addressing Shaan Shahid, Faisal Qureshi and Hamza Ali Abbasi, he urged the trio to be cautious and responsible with how they use social media, given that they're followed by hundreds of thousands of impressionable people.

Those hundreds of thousands of people are being done a disservice if all we have to feed them is more misogyny and gender bias. As if we don't already face enough of it in our daily lives, let alone being bombarded by it on social media.

The question is, who's the next person who'll set the record straight and expose sexism when and where it happens?

Will it be Mawra again?

Will it be you?

For women, taking back the wheel has always been a herculean task.

In neighbouring India, for instance, according to the International Labour Organisation (ILO), the female labour force participation fell from 34 per cent in 1999 to 27 per cent in 2011 by seven percentage points, despite the economy growing significantly. India has failed to integrate women into the labour force and one of the major reasons given by analysts is, piety.

In Pakistan, the situation is much more dire. Pakistan’s female economic activity rate lags behind at 15.8 per cent (Pakistan Bureau of Statistics, 2014). It is almost as if Pakistani women were filed in the non-asset category; a relic stowed away in the basement.

When it comes to piety as a factor in keeping women out of the economic pie, the notion goes something like this: the most pious woman is the least seen one – public space is a no-no.

Public transport is an even bigger no-no.

As families struggle to keep afloat financially and are forced to educate and get women to work, there is a seeming clash between necessity and the false notion. The result: women are stripped of their dignity, going from place A to B.

In Pakistan, seeing a woman on a Vespa scooter as one often does in the cities of India, is an anomaly – a fact that any sane Pakistani should shudder to think of (as opposed to, say, the number of nuclear weapons we have less or more of than India).

Ultimately, survival is linked to the country that first gets its women into the active workforce. But how to do that?

A woman behind a wheel, symbolically and literally speaking, puts herself securely behind the ability to save herself. With domestic violence high up in the 90 per cent range, there is a lot of saving needed and it is unlikely to come from the perpetrators.

More empowerment is linked to less subservient conditions in the household. The subversive culture is ubiquitous: if women are not being coerced into doing backbreaking chores, they are being bruised; if they are not deprived of an education, they are restricted to being a part of community uplift programs; if they are not segregated, they are humiliated in terms of their sexuality though notions of honour.

Take a look: Fighting sexual harrassment: Nepal's women-only buses

The very reason women are kept out of public view by men is to protect them from the patriarchy that men themselves perpetrate. The irony is unmistakable. The eventual solution is to alter men’s schemas, but that is work that is generational. For now, we must make change happen for the women.

A local women’s transportation solution, SheKab, published some data in an informal survey of travellers between the twin cities of Islamabad and Rawalpindi and revealed that about 90 per cent of their respondents travelled from Rawalpindi to Islamabad and about 50 per cent of all women travellers used public transportation; 15 per cent use taxis, while only 30 per cent had access to their own vehicles.

For half of the women who use public transportation, it may feel like stepping into a bin under a public hospital bed. Even with more modern transportation networks like the metro in place, the harassment women face is still an unsolved part of the problem – almost all have been groped, rubbed against, gotten stare-downs, have been subjected to sexual innuendos and overall manhandling during rush hours.

For a society built on piety, there is very little respect for women to go around.

Who is to say that without harassment, there would be an X-fold increase in the use of public transportation. There have been efforts to create women-friendly transportation solutions like the pink taxi, pink rickshaws, etc. but they haven’t been able to scale as solutions.

Also, solutions that segregate as part of the scheme possibly play into the notion that those women who can’t use these options and end up using other modes of transport, are fair game to come into physical contact with men – drivers, conductors, guys generally hanging out in the women’s sections, fellow passengers who spill over, etc.

Ask any woman to outline her public transportation experience and it invariably involves having to take off a slipper and toss it at a face blowing kisses or a hand that is unconstrained. We don’t have to walk over coals to travel to work, we should be able to do it with some semblance of dignity.

Read on: Karachi's mighty Shiraz Coach

That is the situation that Women’s Transportation Hackathon, organised by The Pakistan Innovation Foundation, set off to find solutions for. The event was a national call to this most urgent transport emergency; starting small at first, with Rawalpindi and Islamabad.

The ideas competition opened on Independence Day, and is multi-pronged, calling for submissions in four areas: communications and behavioural change; use of innovative technologies; new business models for sustainable transport for women; design of new forms of transport attuned to the needs of women.

We need more women to #TakeBackTheWheel under this campaign, so women can find a path to economic empowerment.

Want to see a change? Be it. Send your ideas. Who knows, Pakistan could build an Uber-like solution for a piety-linked problem.

Find out more on their Facebook group.

Earlier this week, Dawn reported on a group of lady doctors in Lahore being harassed by criminals who had hacked their social media accounts, and were using their private information to blackmail them.

That reminded me of a development from earlier this year, when the United Kingdom and United States criminalised revenge porn.

'Revenge porn' is the posting of sexually explicit content against the consent of people depicted in it. According to an organisation supporting victims of revenge porn, they see it as “non-consensual pornography, usually posted by a scorned ex-lover or friend, in order to seek revenge after a relationship has gone sour.”

“Scorned ex-lovers...seeking revenge after a relationship has gone sour...” Those words will sound all too familiar if you've grown up in Pakistan. Every school has its share of urban legends, and every friendship circle knows too well the effects of sourly-ended relationships.

More alarmingly, the BBC found that women from cultures that follow codes of honour are more deliberately targeted as victims. This makes Pakistan one of the worst places to be a woman, be it in a marriage or a monogamous relationship.

Also read: More women doctors share harassment tales in Lahore

There are a growing number of Facebook pages hosting thousands of non-consensual photos of Pakistani women, and even more independent websites set up with the sole purpose of shaming the women who chose to trust their partners or friends.

After failed search attempts to find justice or support groups for victims, I turned to as much of the female population as I could to find out more. After questions in person, and on forums, it all poured in.

The responses confirmed my assumption – such blackmail and revenge is an everyday reality, with no avenue for help. Apparently, even the police seem to enjoy tormenting victims seeking help.

Girls have no one to turn to, and are often manipulated back into emotionally and physically abusive relationships. The humiliation and loss of 'honour' of having your family and community see private photos of yourself is often perceived as more dangerous than staying in an abusive relationship.

Also read: Online harassment of Pakistani women turns into real-world violence

Some of the more surprising responses blamed the victims. Pakistan has a long legacy of repressing female sexuality, and blaming the victim if they choose to rise against the repression. The most worrying aspect of this culture is the strict code of silence when it comes to 'honour'.

So where can victims of such revenge and blackmailing go?

I looked into the Federal Investigation Agency's National Response Centre for Cyber Crime. Their website states that they “can entertain” the following category of complaints: Un-Authorised Access, Email hacking, Fake ID on social media ... the list continues, but the use of private photos for revenge/blackmail does not make the cut.

When the Federal Investigation Agency and Police Departments of the nation are male-dominated – and an avenue for shaming – where can victims turn for support, legal advice, and counsel without risking their 'honour'?

In this digital age, women need new measures of protection and empowerment.

Revenge porn is a violation of privacy, and in cultures of honour, used as a form of manipulation to victimise and abuse women.

As the United Kingdom and United States have pushed to criminalise the act, Pakistan needs stronger legal codes in place to protect every woman from such a despicable violation of rights.

Every time a Pakistani parent or elder tells you that you’re “giving them high blood pressure”, there’s a one in three chance that they’re actually correct and it’s not the melodrama talking.

According to a statement made by Margaret Chan, Director of the World Health Organisation, 18 per cent of adults, and 33 per cent of adults above 45 years old in Pakistan have hypertension. Unfortunately, only 50 per cent of those are diagnosed and half of those diagnosed are treated.

That means only 12.5 per cent of cases are adequately being controlled. We need to do what we can to fill the gaps.

Also read: WHO warns of high blood pressure, diabetes, obesity

Firstly, let’s talk about the definition of high blood pressure. From a measurement perspective, a blood pressure reading of 120/80 mmHG is considered normal, and a reading of 135/85 mmHG becomes cause for concern, as it is classified as borderline high blood pressure.

From a pathological perspective (i.e. what’s really happening inside your body), high blood pressure refers to the high pressure that is exerted against artery walls when the heart pumps blood around the body. This high pressure occurs when arteries become narrow or constricted, or when the blood volume increases.

Given the well known association of high blood pressure with salt intake and mental stress, it should be no surprise to most readers that high blood pressure is largely caused by lifestyle factors such as poor diet, lack of exercise and stress.

This is the key to reversing the condition.

If you’ve read my previous article on “Why we shouldn’t be popping pills long-term”, you’ll know that I’m an advocate of finding the root cause behind an issue, instead of solely relying on pills for treatment.

Pills will help you manage current symptoms, but it won’t prevent them from happening again in the future.

Also read: Study links high blood pressure to memory trouble

Let’s take a look at some of the main causes of high blood pressure and address each one with specific action items you can take starting today:

Excessive calorie consumption

• Aim for smaller portions at mealtimes, in particular when it comes to meat, bread and rice. A meat serving should be no more than the size of your palm (two for men), a grain or starch no more than a cupped hand (two for men), and replace the rest of the calories with vegetables.

• Studies have shown that weight loss leads to significant improvement and also reduces the number of prescription drugs a person needs to take.

High sodium-to-potassium ratio

• Potassium and sodium have an antagonistic relationship and are kept within careful balance to regulate the water and salt balance in our bodies. If one increases, the other is forced to decrease. For example, if you have too much sodium, doctors will often prescribe a therapeutic dose of potassium to cause cells to release sodium to be excreted through urine. Some easy ways to incorporate more potassium in the diet include eating more bananas, tomatoes, sweet potatoes, beans, lentils, dates and coconut water!

• Eliminate table salt and when needed, swap it for sea salt or Himalayan pink salt. The former only has two minerals, sodium and chloride, whereas the latter has over 70 trace minerals that are essential for proper nerve and cardiovascular function, and less sodium. Excess sodium causes water retention and raises blood volume.

Diet low in fibre, calcium, magnesium and Vitamin C

• At every mealtime, ensure that half of your plate is full of vegetables.

• Darky leafy greens are an excellent source of these nutrients, in particular magnesium, as this is the central atom in chlorophyll (plant blood), similar to how iron is the central atom in human blood.

• Processed food (i.e. cookies, chips, crackers) is void of nutrients and fibre, and high in salt and sugar. Aim to swap this with more fresh fruit and vegetables, which has been shown to lower blood pressure.

High consumption of saturated vs. Omega 3 fats

• More than 60 double-blind studies have shown that fish oil supplements are effective in lowering blood pressure.

• Take 3000mg of combined EPA and DHA per day (typically equivalent to 1 Tbsp. of fish oil) to see a reduction of approximately 2 mmHG.

• Include more Omega 3 in your diet, include fish, walnuts, pecans, pine nuts, flax, and chia seeds.

Stress

• Take out 10-15 minutes per day where you focus on deep breathing (approximately six breaths per minute). Either do this at home or if you require an extra push, sign up for a yoga class.

• Studies have shown that shallow breathing leads to retention of sodium in the body, whereas deep, slow breathing improves oxygen saturation, exercise tolerance and blood pressure monitoring by the body’s pressure sensors.

Lack of exercise

• Research has shown that as little as 20 minutes of mild to moderate activity three times per week can lower blood pressure.

• Clinical trials involving patients with hypertension have established regular exercise as an effective treatment for high blood pressure.

Aside from the guidelines above, below are some specific natural remedies that have been clinically proven to lower blood pressure:

• Celery contains a compound called 3-n-butylphthalide, which has been proven to lower blood pressure. In animals, a small amount of this compound lowered blood pressure by 12-14 per cent, which is the equivalent of 4-6 stalks of celery. Celery lends itself really well as a base for juice and smoothies, so this amount would not be hard to incorporate!

• Eat a clove of garlic alongside each meal! Studies were conducted using dried garlic powder with 1.3 per cent alliin at 600-900mg (equivalent to 1.8-2.7g of fresh garlic per day), resulting in a drop of 11 mmHg in systolic blood pressure and 5 mmHg in diastolic blood pressure over a period of one to three months.

• Beet juice contains l-arginine which helps relax blood vessels. A recent study proved that consuming one cup of beet juice per day was comparable to the effect of medication on patients with high blood pressure, which is approximately 9/5 mmHG.

• Hibiscus tea has been proven to lower blood pressure through various studies. In one such study, drinking three servings of 240ml (three cups of hibiscus tea in total) per day lowered systolic blood pressure by 7.2 mmHG after six weeks.

Istanbul is a favourite destination for many tourists, and rightly so. The juxtaposition of Byzantine and Ottoman architecture with the serenity of Basphorous is a visual treat!

However, the long queues and hefty entry tickets can be a letdown. Therefore, when I get a day off from work in Istanbul, I choose to visit places which usually fall off the beaten path. Around bustling tourist attractions, there are still a few quaint stops, where you are not pushed around by fellow tourists and you get a chance to interact with the locals.

Layla, a fellow small town cousin, studies Business in Istanbul. She is fluent in Turkish and agrees to be my tour guide. Catherine, a friend of hers, and not so fluent in Turkish, decides to join us on our day out in the city.

10:30am — The rendezvous

Layla lives far off from my hotel and sets Topkapi station as our rendezvous point. After struggling with directions for a bit, I reach the station opposite Topkapi Palace but she is nowhere to be seen. I panic and order coffee at a roadside café and hook up onto its Wi-Fi to drop her a message. It turns out that there is a station called Topkapi which is actually far off from actual Topkapi Palace.

Suddenly, it strikes me that I am dependent on my little cousin for the day.

11:00am — The Grand Bazaar and the workshop

Layla comes all the way to Topkapi Palace to make sure that I don’t make any further mistakes. We take the tram to the Grand Bazaar station, where we meet Catherine. She is in Istanbul for an assignment with an NGO and has been busy exploring its suburbs in her free time, mostly on foot. She ecstatically tells us about a place which she has discovered recently, from which we can have a great view of Bosphorus.

We start our journey through a maze of streets in and around Grand Bazaar. Catherine makes a brief stop at a baklawa shop and uses her charm and not so fluent Turkish to get her free dose. Our journey ends in front of a rundown workshop. Catherine takes us up from there and leads us to the rooftop through a tiny staircase.

Let me describe the scene at the rooftop.

There are little domes on the roof, but there is still ample space to move. The sun is spreading a soft glow on the glass windows of the houses downhill. The air is clear and we can see till far away. The sanguine rooftops look pretty in the backdrop of blue Bosphorus. There is a mosque downhill and we are at eye level with its minarets.

“This is perhaps the coolest spot in the whole city,” Catherine tells us triumphantly. We nod in agreement.

The Grand Bazaar is a favourite with tourists for buying Turkish lamps and other souvenirs.

We climb through a narrow opening in a rundown building.

You can get an unhindered view from the workshop rooftop.

Another view from the rooftop of Grand Bazaar workshop.

Catherine bids farewell to her cat.

There are workshops on both ends of the corridor leading to the rooftop.

It is considerably warm and we take shelter under a small tree which has mushroomed through a ridge. Catherine finds a cat and plays with it. I take my water bottle out and gulp it down. After a while, we decide to leave because we have many places to cover. Catherine’s cat seems disappointed and raises its hand as if bidding farewell.

On our way back, Catherine looks into a workshop and strikes a conversation with the craftsmen. There is no baklawa there, but these shops are filled with handicrafts which will later be sold in the Grand Bazaar.

1:00pm — Sahaflar Carsisi (The book market)

Layla tells me that she buys her curriculum books from Sahaflar Carsisi (literally meaning 'the book market'), off the grand bazaar entrance. Unlike the rest of the bazaar, it still caters predominantly to local residents, and hence preserves the environment of an actual bazaar of yore, when traders gathered according to their trade. It is still situated in the same courtyard as the old Byzantine book and paper market. In a neat setting, there are almost two dozen bookstores that are lined up around the central courtyard, selling books and stationary.

Layla takes us to the book market which is accessible from Grand Bazaar entrance.

The Book Market is a favourite with locals.

The Istanbul University entrance.

The narrow lanes of Grand Bazaar are a delight to walk in.

1:45pm — Caferaga Madrasa

We decide to break for lunch. Catherine knows a place nearby, which was a madrassah originally, built some 500 years ago. On the way there, we walk past Istanbul University, the premier university in Turkey. We find the restaurant, Caferga Madrasa, after a bit and settle into its courtyard. The small rooms around the courtyard used to serve as student dorms, but are converted into small dining rooms now with different décor for each room.

The building also has a handicraft center. Most of the decorative items in the restaurant are crafted in-house. Layla and Catherine, both being students, are careful with the order, checking the prices on the menu first.

Caferaga Madrasa was a Madrassah of Ottoman era which has been converted into a restaurant and handicrafts shop.

The central courtyard of the restaurant.

The dorms have been converted into neat dining rooms.

2:45pm — Nakilbent Cistern (the ancient structure under the rugs shop)

After having a meaty lunch, we decide to resume our journey. Catherine buys freshly cut watermelon from a roadside stall and we eat as we walk through the narrow lanes. After a good 15-minute walk, we reach a small shopping compound which has a cistern underneath. We enter the contemporary shop through the front gate.

There is a lady sitting on one side, weaving a carpet, and there are expensive rugs, jewelry and pottery on display. Layla leads us to a staircase which takes us to the basement. Suddenly, an opening through the concrete structure reveals a huge basement full of stone arches.

Nakilbent Cistern is famously known for hosting cultural events and exhibitions.

A contemporary rug shop is set up on top of the cistern now.

The Nakilbent cistern is much smaller than the well-trodden Basilica Cistern, which is the largest in the area. These cisterns were part of a grand design built on the orders of Emperor Justinian in the sixth century to provide filtered water to the palaces and other buildings in the area.

The cistern is used for hosting cultural events now. Currently, an audiovisual exhibition is on display. The exhibition endeavours to recreate the magic of Hippodrome of Constantinople, a sporting centre of Byzantine Empire. The hippodrome has not survived the tides of time, but an Obelisk and a serpent column still stand strong in the area opposite Blue Mosque. Catherine shows me the serpent column on screen, which has been restored to its former glory. It has three heads, each sprouting a stream of water into a pond.

3:30pm — Little Hagia Sophia

We step out into the hot and humid air of Istanbul. Layla tells us that the next stop on our journey is Little Hagia Sophia, formerly the Church of the Saints Sergius and Bacchus, which was constructed in 536 AD on the orders of the great Justinian.

The sumptuous decorations on its domes and arches made its architecture second only to actual Hagia Sophia which was constructed few years later. It was converted into a mosque during the Ottoman period.

A view of Little Hagia Sophia.

The domes of the mosque are exquisitely decorated.

The Byzantine murals and patterns were removed but you could still spot some writing near the pillars.

A local sits inside a cafe inside Little Hagia Sophia.

Catherine meanwhile sketches a bird on the canvas.

There is no entry ticket and there are hardly any tourists. We enter the compound through a small opening and take our shoes off to enter the main building. There are a few families inside, busy taking selfies, as the children explore every corner of the building.

After the conversion to the mosque, most of the murals were removed, but I notice some text from Byzantine era around the pillars. After spending some blissful moments inside, we step out of the building.

On the right hand is a madrassah, which was added during the Ottoman period. It has been converted into an assortment of tiny shops now. One of the craftsmen who works with block prints, asks Catherine to experiment with designs on canvas. She sketches a bird, but is disappointed with the result as the bird ends up having small wings which can’t possibly support the rather long tail.

4:30pm — Rustem Pasha Mosque

Tucked between busy shops in the Straw weavers Market, Rustem Pasha Mosque is not exactly an afterthought. It was designed by Mimar Sinan, the eminent architect of Ottoman court in the honour of Rustem Pasha, the grand vizier of Suleiman the magnificent. A narrow winding staircase leads us to a raised courtyard, a quaint setting in middle of a bustling bazaar. It is famous for its lavish use of iznik tiles, which became an integral part of later constructions.

The route to Rustem Pasha is through Straw weavers Market.

Rustem Pasha Mosque impeccable decorations set the precedence for later built mosques.

The inside view is mesmerising for many tourists.

Locals offer prayers at Rustem Pasha Mosque.

A view of the arches at Rustem Pasha Mosque.

We take our shoes off and wander aimlessly in its courtyard. Few locals, possibly from the bazaar are offering prayers, and we sit there in silence. The domes and arches are beautifully decorated with floral patterns and the iznik tiles are coloured a tomato-red.

5:30pm — The Tunnel

Layla tells us that we will head to Istiklal Street now. I am drenched in sweat by now and take a break to drink some lemonade. Layla decides to renew her tram card, while Catherine and I sit on the footpath. Catherine takes a bottle out of her bag and sprinkles the liquid on her face.

“It is rosewater and very refreshing”, she tells me. “You look dead”, she adds further.

She takes the bottle back and sprinkles fragrant liquid on my face.

“You smell of roses now, but it is not half as bad as being dead”, she says in ecstatic tone. She sounds like a certain Yossarian from Catch-22.

Layla joins us on the footpath and tells me that she is not tired yet, that she is accustomed to long walks and absolutely loves it. “This is something that I miss back home in our tiny city”, she says wistfully.

We resume our journey and walk past the courtyard in front of the Eminonu Mosque. We have to cross the road through an underpass, which is full of people making their way to either end. There are small stalls on both sides and hawkers are trying to attract customers.

We make way through a crowded underpass.

The ground level has some popular restaurants.

After crossing a few streets, we find ourselves in a building where the first subway system in Istanbul was built, which incidentally was the second-ever to be built in the world at that time. The subway is disconnected from rest of the railroad. We get off at the far end of Istiklal Street and prepare ourselves for a long walk in its adjoining streets.

6:45pm — The street of antique shops

Layla and Catherine know Istkilal Street by heart. They stop in front of a shop which does not have password to its Wi-fi. They tell me that they know all the places here where one does not have to pay for a coffee to get free Wi-fi signals.

We decide to wander in an adjoining street of Istiklal, which are home to many antique shops. In one such street, Layla and Catherine spot some old currency, saying they wished they could use those thousands of scrap Liras at the current rate. I spot a vinyl record shop and go inside, while the girls decide to wait outside.

A view of Tunnel the oldest tram system in Istanbul.

People pose for a selfie in front of tram which took us through the tunnel.

Istiklal Street is famous for its standup artists and gypsies.

A view of Istiklal Street during the day.

The vintage Market houses many tiny shops selling vintage stuff.

We spot some out-of-circulation Turkish Liras.

When I come out, I find an aged Turkish guy speaking to Layla. He is super impressed with her Turkish and asks her if I can help him take his luggage to the fourth floor. I have heard of a lot of scams in this area and am hesitant at first, but decide to help the guy out. The narrow staircase is difficult to climb, let alone carrying baggage. I feel for the guy and run all the way to the top floor and drop his luggage. He asks us for tea, but we tell him that we need to go back.

9:00pm — Istiklal Street

We climb our way back to Istiklal Street. The sun has set already, and the street is lit up with street lights and neon signs. We make brief stops here and there to listen to gypsy musicians and check prices in the shops. After a bit, Layla and Catherine announce that they have to go back, I decide to stay on.

Layla tells me that I may struggle in her absence, since very few people here speak English. Catherine says goodbye and starts walking. Layla, in her stride, quotes Orhan Phamuk and waves goodbye.

“Life can't be all that bad. Whatever happens, you can always take a long walk along the Basphorous.”

The streets around Istiklal can prove to be a treasure trove.

I drop the luggage at fourth floor and join my fellow tourists.

We reach Istiklal back after sunset.

Other notable mentions

Istanbul Modern: Founded in 2004, Istanbul Modern is a private museum which exhibits modern and contemporary art. Set up in a warehouse along the shores of Basphorous, it can be easily accessed through tram.

Istanbul Modern is another notable mention for its contemporary art displays.

Üsküdar Antique Market: In a non-touristy suburb on the Asian side, Uskudar Antique Market is a treat for collectors. The shopkeepers here travel around Turkey to collect antiques which are brought here and displayed in an unassuming setting.

A view of Uskudar Antique Market.

— All photos by author

You can’t solve a problem if you don’t know you have a problem. But how do you know you have a problem if you don’t have a word for it?

“Mansplaining,” for example, describes the peculiar tendency of some men to patronisingly lecture women, assuming that by virtue of their gender alone, they need to be talked down to. Probably the worst kind of mansplaining happens when a man’s talking to a woman about something she’d obviously know more about. Such as, for example, being a woman.

I have been a victim of a related phenomenon, one that irritated me to no end. Then, when I came up with a name for it, I was even more frustrated, because I realised how pervasive it is.

I call it “Islamsplaining”.

From cable news “specials” and social media exchanges all the way down to in-person interactions, Islamsplaining is everywhere.

On April 25, ESPN commentator Curt Schilling compared Muslims to Nazis. In his newest book, It is all about Islam: Exposing the truth about ISIS, Iran, Al-Qaeda and the Caliphate, Glenn Beck insists all Muslims are either moderates or Nazis.

Wisconsin Governor Scott Walker has made a similar, equally baseless claim: Only a precious few Muslims are moderates. You know what these Islamsplainers all have in common? They know nothing about Islam, but they speak as if they were experts.

And I have a hunch that if they ever do meet Muslims, it’s not to hear our points of view, but to put us in our place.

Also see: Changing times: Ijtihad and other questions Muslims must revisit

In my experience, Islamsplaining usually happens like this: Someone I’ve just met perceives that I’m brown, bearded and have a funny name (and therefore likely Muslim), and begins to lecture me on what’s so good about the West, or so bad about Islam, suggesting these are two unequal planets on opposite ends of the galaxy.

Not that there’s room for debate.

The Islamsplainer speaks. And based on the way the Islamplainer pontificates, you’d expect that Islamsplainees across the world usually smile, nod politely, agree with everything, challenge nothing, and maybe ask for a business card: “I’d love to have coffee and hear you tell me what else is wrong with me and one-fifth of humanity!”

One recent experience of Islamsplanation was more jarring than usual, because that particular Islamsplainer had years of law enforcement experience under his belt. While he Islamsplained at me, I wondered how common his opinions were among his colleagues, how badly these errors of perception impacted on our domestic policy and whether any Republicans who did not think this way might speak out.

The Islamsplainer and I met after a television panel on Muhammad Youssef Abdulazeez, the 24 year-old Tennessean responsible for killing five US servicemen in Chattanooga. We speculated on possible motivations, because at the time there was no clear evidence Abdulazeez was a terrorist (and there still isn’t).

But, of course, he was a Muslim, so all of him had to be reduced to that, and my barrel-chested, goateed co-panelist did not disappoint. Since we were heading out of the building together, we began talking. Or rather, he did.

In retrospect, I wish I’d feigned some excuse to stick behind in an empty studio. I could’ve claimed it was prayer time and I needed a vacant room, all to myself, because I’d been a bad Muslim and it was going to take a while. It was that bad.

Read on: Why are matters of faith beyond discussion?

Before we’d even reached the elevators, I’d been told there were only two types of Muslims: “progressive” and “fundamental.” (Imagine if I’d exclaimed, in response, “Ooh! Just like there’s two types of white people: liberals and confederates?”)

The “fundamentals”, I was told, were to be blamed for violence, while the only solution to this violence, was “the Muslim community”.

I did not point out that cutting back the wide availability of deadly weaponry in the United States might be at least part of the solution. Nor did I mention that jihadist recruiters and their supporters religiously avoid mosques, because mainstream Islam wants nothing to do with them: they not only don’t want to talk to Muslims; they want to kill us. (That very day, an ISIS bombing killed 115 Muslims attending services for the biggest holiday of the year.)

But, rather like climate change, the Islamsplainer is hard to stop once he starts.

From lone wolves, he told me, ISIS was graduating to sleeper cells across America; these undercover operatives were 21st century versions of Elizabeth and Philip Jennings – the KGB superspies who lived double lives in metropolitan DC on FX’s The Americans. They look like us, sound like us, but also want to kill us. Of course, I didn’t ask how American Muslims could possibly be the solution to covert underground cells established by a foreign entity with which we have no relationship.

Also read: Political Islam: Why militants now symbolise Muslims

But we haven’t even reached peak Islamsplanation. I was then informed that Chattanooga shooter Muhammad Abdelazeez was clearly in possession of his faculties, and indubitably a terrorist (an assumption flatly contradicted by later evidence). On the other hand, Dylann Storm Roof, he said (bringing him up out of nowhere), wasn’t a terrorist, or a white supremacist, just a troubled soul who’d skipped his medication.

Why didn’t I intervene?

Men don’t necessarily mansplain because they believe they’re superior to women. They might just do it to convince themselves they still are a vital part of every single conversation – that their point of view is always the priority. Islamsplaining is no different. By definition, an Islamsplainer is a person so embedded inside his own privilege that he cannot welcome challenges to his authority.

When he was done Islamsplaining to me, he asked me if I traveled often to Muslim communities, so he could come along next time, he said, and “lecture” (Islamsplain) to them.

I stifled a laugh, took his business card, and recycled it at the next corner.

The article was originally published on Quartz and has been reproduced with permission.

ISLAMABAD: After the Pakistan censor board banned Bollywood megastar Saif Ali Khan’s movies subsequent to his comments about losing his faith in Pakistan, the Pakistan Telecommunication Authority (PTA) has vowed to take measures to ensure that all Pakistanis similarly lose faith in Saif.

To be more specific, efforts are underway to ensure that all traces of Saif are removed from the internet and mainstream media in the country.

“He will now, in essence, become a phantom,” a source privy to the PTA decision told this scribe.

“Already there is a movement from the public itself to ban commercials that have him as the star. So it’s not something that people will mind us doing,” the source added.

The new efforts will include ensuring that in addition to Saif never making it to Pakistani cinemas and television screens, websites that mention or feature the actor will also be blocked in Pakistan.

“This shouldn’t be a problem. If we can take down all of YouTube, Saif is small fry in comparison,” the source said. It is hoped that by the time the drive is complete, most people will forget that Saif Ali Khan ever made movies.

“We are only worried about what will happen when he does a movie with another big star. For example, if he’s doing a collaboration with Shah Rukh Khan, how are we supposed to block that? There may be riots in Pakistan, everyone knows how much Shah Rukh Khan is loved,” the source said.

One proposed solution for the Saif Ali Khan ban.

“Heck, even Hafiz Saeed himself loves the man… you know?” he added.

It seems that if the plan is executed in the manner that is required then the next generation may grow up having no inkling of who Saif is.

“He will become a mythical creature… no one will have proof or faith in his existence. Like an imaginary friend, if you will,” the source informed.

“But to be honest, his movies are so terribly boring I don’t see anyone bothering to spend that much time making up stories about him existing in the next few years. This will be easy peasy for us,” he said.

Shaan welcomes patriotic ban

Meanwhile veteran actor Shaan Shahid has lauded the PTA’s move, and has wholeheartedly endorsed it.

“The PTA, like myself, always calls out traitors and bans accordingly. If I were a regulating body, I’d want to be the PTA because I like to ban stuff,” Shaan said.

“I can also tell you that I’d be making a movie on the PTA soon, where I’d be starring as the PTA myself.”

NOTE: Before celebrating the ban on Saif Ali Khan, please keep in mind that this is satire.

Wasim Akram talks to media as he arrives at the National Cricket Stadium in Karachi on August 5, 2015, after a gunman opened fire on his car. — AFP

Earlier last month, the former Pakistan cricket captain, Wasim Akram, narrowly avoided a brush with catastrophe when his car was shot at in Karachi, during a traffic spat with another traveller.

The news report has clear details on the sequence of events, as they happened according to Wasim Akram – how the person in the other car tried to flee after initially hitting Akram’s car; how, after the bowling legend chased him down, an altercation ensued; how, the gunman had the gun pointed ‘at me’ [Akram], but aimed at the ground upon realising who it was, and then bolted from the scene.

Words of concern poured in from all over the world after the incident, and the nation breathed a sigh of relief when the maestro managed to escape a potential tragedy.

Wasim termed the incident ‘scary’ and said, “I want legal proceedings initiated aga­i­nst him.”

Now, owing to some proper police work, the culprit has been identified as an ex-Army official. Recognising his mistake, the person in question has tried to preempt the situation and tendered a written apology to Wasim Akram for his behaviour, which he attributes to ‘road rage’, thereby trying to somehow justify his actions.

A screengrab of the apology letter written to Wasim Akram. — DawnNews

There has been a flurry of responses to the apology, which speak to many aspects of our society at large.

On the one hand are people who recognise the fault in what the attacker did, but would rather have Akram accept the apology and move on. According to them, life in Pakistan – and particularly in Karachi – is tough all over, and for the average citizen, terrifying incidents like these is a matter of routine. In this case, thank the angels that there was no damage done, get over the incident, and move on with life.

On the other hand though, people have rightly pointed out for the need to follow the law. We have to recognise that the public nature of this crime entails some tangible repercussions. The apology was written, as per the author, out of remorse and respect for the ex-cricketer. (Arguably, the shot fired was singular and intentionally aimed away for the same reason.) Does that mean that the remorse would not have been so forthcoming had it been an ordinary person instead of Akram?

Ordinary citizen or not, the beauty of law resides in its uniform application over everyone. Akram might choose to accept the apology, but that does not absolve the state of its responsibility to prosecute the wrongdoers among us.

As citizens, we can all relate to situations of road rage, where even the most level-headed are sometimes seen laying it all out for a fleeting moment of misplaced bravado. That said, reacting to such situations with a firearm is downright unacceptable.

As things stand, our society suffers from a toxic gun culture already. Firearms here stand for honour, pride, power and even arrogance.

The debate on their necessity versus harm aside, one would expect, at least a retired Major to exemplify responsible firearms handling in an already volatile environment like ours. Rather, it is the opposite that happened.

And finally, what message are we sending across by treating this matter lightly? One incident like this can expose the security and safety of everyone – including well-known public figures – in the country, undoing years of work toward image-building. That, especially at a time when we're struggling to persuade foreign cricket teams that it is safe to tour Pakistan.

Such are the times we live in. Wasim Akram still lived and received an apology too. But what should us ordinary mortals expect?

Two days ago, I woke up to the terrible news of the death of two children in a school in Karachi. Initial reports suggested that the children had decided to end their lives after their parents disapproved of their 'romantic involvement'.

I have been utterly depressed at the very thought of this incident. While the police are still currently examining the evidence, what follows is the inevitable question, who do we hold responsible for the incident?

The parents? The society? Media? Co-education? Gun culture?

This incident, however isolated and rare as it may be, cannot be ascribed to any one of the points mentioned above. Some of the points are valid, some invalid. The details are yet to fully unfold, but I think this is the right time to analyse the problems within our society, especially, when it comes to parenting.

Know more: Teenage 'suicide': Police find more letters in boy’s schoolbag

1. ‘The co-education system is to blame’:

We are faced with the tragic deaths of two adolescents. We are being told by an overwhelming section of the society that this happened because a boy and a girl were left to intermingle freely, against our ‘moral values’. I do not want to take on the religious argument here. But let's look at this differently.

I have spent three years of my life documenting news from rural Sindh for a local newspaper. In these three years, I have always been surprised by how the majority of eloping couples (and ultimately ending up dead through karo-kari or honour-killing, or demanding protection from the courts), belonged to the rural areas, where there was no concept of co-education, working together, or intermingling with the opposite sex.

The people in these areas cannot so much as openly talk to a member of the opposite gender. Yet, they manage to fall in love to an extent that they leave their homes for it.

Who or what is responsible here? Obviously, not co-education. It is in fact the opposite – extreme gender segregation – that creates frustrations which eventually lead to these couples eloping; escaping from the lack of freedom to marry by choice.

Compare this to cities, where men and women are freer to interact and marry by choice, cases of elopement seem to be lower.

Way more killings happen in the streets, bazaars and in villages over petty disputes than in co-education schools. The argument that co-education causes such incidents is plainly false.

2. ‘The media is responsible’:

Various researches have evidenced that programs aired on television have an overwhelming impact on children. Parental advisory labels exist to warn parents against allowing their child to watch content which might potentially harm their mental development. But while parents even in developed countries do not follow this safety protocol as strictly as they should, in our part of the word, parents are altogether clueless even about the notion of such a thing as ‘suitability of content’.

Also read: Are you aware of your child's online life?

When I was in high school, the two most popular video games of the time were GTA: San Andreas and Max Payne 2: The Fall of Max Payne, which almost everyone of us had played. Both of these games were rated “Mature” and suitable only for people of ages 17 and above (because of the “Blood and Gore, Intense Violence, Strong Language, Strong Sexual Content, Use of Drugs” that they contained).

Ideally, we shouldn't have had access to these games. But we did, and they must have impacted our minds in a negative way. After all, psychologists could not have set an age-limit on them for nothing. Young minds are affected by the violence depicted in these videos and therefore, parents need to watch much more closely what their children are doing online, and what ideas they are taking away from TV programs.

3. ‘Parents are responsible’:

To a large extent, yes. Having a gun at your home within your child's reach is irresponsible. In fact, having a gun at all, without a valid reason, is partaking in the poison of gun culture, a real and continuing hazard in this country.

Also read: Fake guns, real terrorism

Parents are also responsible for what their adolescent children watch or do online. I once saw a short video clip by the US Government which encouraged parents to keep computers in a place where they can be monitored by every passing family member. The video also encouraged parents not to back-off if their children argued for ‘privacy’.

Not just monitoring their child, parents also have a duty towards ensuring the well-being of their children beyond physical needs – their mental and emotional health, especially in this cataclysmic day and age.

Most youngsters my age and those 10 years younger, will have parents born in the 1950s and 1960s. These parents should recognise that the times their children are growing up in, are vastly different from their's. The media, the technologies, the schooling, the environment – everything is different. Suicidal tendencies in schoolchildren are much more prevalent now than before. Kids today hardly open up to their parents about their feelings, because emotional insulation has become an entrenched part of our culture; just possessing sentiments is a thing that's looked down upon.

Consequently, most children end up either harming themselves or befriending a sympathiser outside of their family, who could be a great or a disastrous influence.

My advice to parents is to understand and empathise with your child; his/her feelings and his/her thoughts and desires. If they say they love someone or will die or murder for someone or something, a person, a PlayStation, a laptop or anything, take it seriously.

If you have to turn down their request, be gentle and explain your decision. Harsh tones and indifference will only generate resentment in your child. Some children will submit, but the more audacious ones could resort to disastrous steps.

My heart goes out to the two innocent children of Karachi.

Khul ke gul kuch to bahaar apni saba dikhla gaye
Hasrat un ghunchon pe hai, jo bin khiley murjha gaye

While some flowers bloomed to a spectacular display
There is sorrow for the buds that wilted before they could blossom

Images of a drowned Syrian child shocked the world today. The pictures, taken on Wednesday morning, show the lifeless body of a three year-old boy (identified as Aylan Kurdi) washed up ashore on a beach in Turkey.

He and his brother were among the 12 Syrians who drowned in their attempt to escape fighting in Syria. For many across the globe, the full horror of the refugee crisis unfurled only after the surfacing of these pictures.

Also read: Drowned toddler sparks fresh horror over Europe migrant crisis

Refugee is not a person. It is a predicament that lingers on. It is a feeling of perpetual uprooting from one’s native land which lasts till the last breath; unceasing and unrelenting. A refugee is a poem written on an alien paper. It is a life stuck between people, us and them; hung between lands native and foreign; always wanting, ever unfulfilling. A refugee is a tear shed on an unknown soil.

Apart from all the emotional traumas, being a refugee is all about tribulations. It is about all the hardships, uncertainties, and miseries one comes across after embarking on a voyage from a familiar, yet hostile home to an unfamiliar, yet secure haven.

Being a refugee is about facing the cruelest moment when exile is no more merely an option, but an inevitability.

Today, there are nearly 60 million people in the world who have been displaced by war, conflict, or persecution. Around 38.2 million people among them are displaced in their own country, while 19.5 million have taken sanctuary in other countries.

To put it another way, one in every 122 people on the planet is displaced. The Syrian Civil War has led to the displacement of 9.5 million Syrians, around 43 per cent of the total Syrian population. The last time this figure crossed 50 million was during the Second World War.

The age of the refugee is upon us.

Harrowing accounts are coming out from the Mediterranean, where at least 2500 people have died since January this year. Most of them drowned at sea while attempting to reach Europe from Syria, Middle East, Africa, and beyond. One third of the people who arrived in Europe in the first half of this year came from Syria. Europe is living through a refugee crisis of historic proportions.

Also read: Europe responsible for refugees ‘drowning in the sea’: Erdogan

The unprecedented figure of displaced people is enough to put a question mark over the claim that the world is a safer place today.

Every child perished in the cruel waters of the Mediterranean points to the tyranny of national boundaries.

Every woman forced to flee from home in northern Syria testifies the horrors of rampant religious extremism.

Every destitute IDP in any camp across Pakistan is living testimony to the barbarity of imperial wars and unrestrained powers enjoyed by modern states.

The end is nowhere in sight. From the shores of the Atlantic to the coasts of Indian Ocean, from Seine to Ganges, nationalism is on the rise. From Suez to Indus, religious fundamentalism fuelled by modern-day politics is tearing societies apart. From Ferguson to Kashmir, the state is powerful than ever.

Also read: EU refugee crisis: The tragedy of nationalism

The refugee crisis is fundamentally the crisis of the contemporary world, which cannot be resolved without facing the questions posed to us by our times.

The most pressing issue at the moment is to accommodate the millions of abandoned souls uprooted from their native lands. There are around 4 million Syrians who have sought refuge in other countries. While it is true that the EU must take necessary measures to facilitate the refugees arriving Europe, it is also true that the sheer magnitude of the crisis is too big to be handled by the EU alone.

Besides, it is not the EU but Turkey, Lebanon, Jordan, Iraq, and Egypt which, together, are sheltering 95 percent of the total Syrian refugees.

Surprisingly, or not so surprisingly, the oil-rich Gulf countries – Saudi Arabia, Qatar, Bahrain, Kuwait, and United Arab Emirates – have offered zero resettlement places to Syrian refugees. This fact alone flies in the face of assertions that there exists a single Muslim nation in the world.

See: US to welcome 5,000 to 8,000 Syrian refugees in 2016

If there is any region in the world that should do more to resolve this humanitarian crisis, it is the Gulf region. These countries do have the necessary resources and infrastructure to deal with this kind of situation. Saudi Arabia alone receives and manages millions of pilgrims every year. Even the Islamic calendar starts with the year of the Hijra.

Nothing captures the callousness of our times better than the plight of the displaced among us. It is too personal a loss to be expressed in language. But somehow, suffering will always scream.

The British-Somali poet, Warsan Shire, who immigrated to the United Kingdom penned these verses:

“You have to understand,
No one puts their children in a boat
Unless the water is safer than the land”

A sublime scream. But nothing like the one by the drowned Syrian child today.

Khichri, another name for wholesome goodness and one more commonality, amongst many, that connects sub-continental households across borders, languages and ethnicities. Children are nourished on khichri, grandparents too, in fact it is also the perfect sustenance for the generation in the middle.

My mother served khichri with a side of raita, cachumber and shami kababs, it truly was one of my most favourite home-cooked meals.

The origin of khichri is a few millenniums old, and it belongs to the subcontinent as much as its soil.

Conquerors, discoverers and imperialists who came from around the world, all tried the local khichri and relished it. They modified it, adding all sorts of ingredients to it, but none matched the perfection of the original; rice, moong dal, ghee, salt, cloves, cumin and water — loved by peasants and kings alike.

It is the ultimate Ayurvedic detox food, packed with flavour and nourishment. Rice and legumes/lentils cooked together are a perfect union of amino acids essential for our bodies; it is said to be the perfect protein.

The Hare Khrishna Book of Vegetarian Cooking states;

Besides being rich in iron and B vitamins, dal is the main source of protein in a Vedic diet. For example, the usable protein of rice (60 percent) and that of dal (65 percent), increase to 85 percent when the two are eaten together.

When exiled Mughal Emperor Humanyun was living in Persia, he hosted the Persian Shah in Hindustani style. The Shah enjoyed the Hindustani `dish of rice with peas’, a version of the popular khichri.

In A Tale Of Cooks and Conquerors, Collingham says;

In 16th and 17th century Hindustan, the staple food of the rural peasants, and also of the urban artisans and laborers, was khichari, a simple dish of two grains, usually rice and lentils, boiled together in little water. Every region had a variation on the recipe according to which grain they grew as a staple crop. Pickles or salt fish also went well with khichari.

It was Jahangir who introduced the Gujarati khichari into the Mughal repertoire. While traveling through the province of Gujarat, he sampled a local version of this dish that used millet instead of rice. No doubt a Gujarati cook was immediately recruited to work in the imperial kitchen. In this way a simple regional peasant dish was integrated into the courtly cuisine.

Other more elaborate versions of the khichari were incorporated into the Mughal repertoire. During the reign of Shah Jahan, Sebastien Manrique was served a ‘far more costly’ khichari that he was told the Bengalis ate at their feasts. It was flavored with expensive ingredients such as almonds, raisings, cloves, mace, nutmeg, cinnamon and pepper.

The Khichri recipe as chronicled by Abul Fzal in Ain-e-Akbari:

5 seer rice
5 seer split dal
5 seer ghee
1/3 seer salt

Conversion: 1 seer equals 2 ½ pounds

It is our very own khichri that was christened kedgeree by the British. They added boiled eggs and fish to it, doing away with the essential dal altogether.

Like nargissi kofta is to Scotch eggs, khichri is to kedgeree. The anglo-Indians served khichri [with rice and dal] for breakfast with freshly caught fish. But once transported to the main British isles, the aristocracy living in Britain started serving kedgeree for breakfast during their country-house getaways and settled on smoked haddock as the fish to be added to the rice, doing away with the essential dal altogether.

The Oxford Companion For Food by Alan Davidson says the following;

Kedgeree, originally, khichri, is a common Indian dish which was already being described by visitors hundreds of years ago. Hobson-Jobson quotes from the Arab traveller Ibn Batuta (1340) ‘The munj (Moong) is boiled with rice, and then buttered and eaten. This is what they call Kishri and on this dish they breakfast every day.

By moong it is meant mung bean. The description remains correct, although other lentils can be used and it is usual to add flavorings; onions and spices. It seems to have been under British influence and for British tables that flaked fish or smoked fish was built into the dish, replacing the moong or lentils; and again due to the British that chopped hard-boiled eggs into the dish (plus in de luxe versions, ingredients such as cream). It was this transformed dish that became famous as kedgeree, a British breakfast specialty.

Hence the wholesome khichri has passed the test of time, regions and classes; and remains that one dish which is enjoyed best when made with its original ingredients.

Needless to say, there are countless versions, editions and recipes of the hearty khichri, (with dal variations and vegetables) but my favourite is still the original. Here it is, from my kitchen to yours.

Ingredients

½ cup moong dal
1 cup rice
3 to 4 cups water, or as required
¼ tsp. cumin
3 to 4 bay leaves
3 to 4 cloves
Salt to taste

Method

Soak rice and dal separately for a couple of hours. Rinse thoroughly and set aside. Take 3-4 tbsp. of oil or ghee and fry the bay leaves and cloves for a few seconds, adding slowly the dal and rice to the pot, fry for 8-10 minutes.

Now add water to the pot and let sit on medium heat, cover and cook, bringing the heat to low and allowing it to cook (covered) until the dal and rice is tender, adding more water if required.

If you want to add vegetables; spinach, tomato, cauliflower or peas, these can be added when the khichri is ¾ done, and cooked to completion and tenderness.

Sprinkle cumin and onion bhagaar if desired, serve with a side of raita, salad and shami kabab.

—Photos by Fawad Ahmed

Picture this: Dhoop Kinaray. Dr Ahmar and Dr Zoya Ali Khan infinitely lost in each other’s eyes and treating patients at the same time. He smiles, takes a microsecond-long look at a howling child who has just been brought in and diagnoses a subdural hematoma, orders an immediate operation as well.

Eh?

Our actual physician friend faints.

How could he know? Where are the X-rays? No CT Scans? What symptoms were there besides the werewolf-ish grunts? He didn’t even touch the kid! He didn’t check the kid’s pulse, nor his eyes nor his head where the alleged hematoma was found. What if it was just fatigue?

Shut up, we say. That’s Dr Ahmar. He’s psychic. Shut up and swoon.

Those were the glorious '90s, but as things stand, medical scenes in Pakistani dramas have continued much in the same vein, all the way till 2015. There must be countless moments in these plays which made you bang your head against a wall in anguish and question reality itself.

Here are 10 things that made us do just that:

1. One formula fits all

Ending up at the hospital is a recurring source of drama in our shows, but it's never anything complicated – mostly the same formula involving the same old tropes.

Every other episode, somebody falls sick and is taken to a place with shiny floors and lots of nurses scurrying about, all ruled by one Doctor sahib who tries extremely hard to portray the grim reaper; a white coat that’s always two sizes too big for the Doctor sahib and three sizes too tight for the Doctor sahiba; the cheapest stethoscope available in the subcontinent wound around the neck like a dead snake, and an all-hope-is-lost look in the eyes.

2. Blink and your diagnosis is done

The witches from Hogwarts would not be able to diagnose ailments as quickly as our drama doctors do. One look and the patient is diagnosed with the most atrocious disease ever.

If the doctor is extra thorough, they'll throw in a split-second grab-n-go check of the pulse. That'll do it. Let’s call it Psychic Diagnosia.

3. Med school? Why bother

The best part is when hardcore medical facts and solutions go ignored in the best interest of the drama at hand (because how else would you churn a 300-episode serial out of something that should’ve ended 15 minutes after it started?).

In the last 800 episodes of the serial Mumkin, all everyone wanted to talk about was how Uncle was lying about his second wife being his first wife. It did not occur to absolutely anybody – despite all the characters being educated and enlightened – to suggest DNA testing.

There are countless TV moments when a completely deranged and estranged father looks at his supposed newborn baby and screams, “Yeh mera bacha nahin hai!”

All hell broke loose and the mother is banished to her maika. A million hawwws are uttered, but no, not a single suggestion of DNA testing. The kid is definitely not his, because he said so.

4. Are we there yet? The 21st century?

Then there is the overwhelming number of mother-in-law characters in our shows who expect their daughters-in-law – even in the 21st century – to produce sons on demand. Excuse us while we pull our hair out.

X-Y chromosomes, anyone?

And why is the man bringing in the woman for a maternity checkup always assumed to be the father by the peon/nurse/padosan/patient in the hospital? God forbid should a brother, cousin or (hawwww) a male friend escort her.

5. Have a break, have a drip

Our drama doctors have a special penchant for Intravenous Therapy, also known as the drip ... like, a frightening, unheard of inclination to use it no matter what the illness.

Broke your toe? Have a drip.

Burned your hand? Have a drip.

Don’t like your saas? Have a drip.

Dehydration, Alzheimer’s, stroke or cancer – you name it, everything under the sky in the Pakistani drama is treatable with a drip.

6. When on your deathbed, be sure to wear mascara

The rest is left to cosmetics. We’re talking full bridal makeovers for a patient suffering from fatal disease.

How is it that terminally ill patients of a desi play look like a beauty pageant winner even minutes before dying the most horrible death? Even the eyebrows look like they got dressed up in a salon.

The cancer-fighting mom in Izteraab, the tumor-fighting heroine in Chupkay Se Bahaar Aa Jaye, the cancer-fighting hero in Marasim, the tumor-fighting mom in Sauteli…these are just some of the occasions where our actors were fighting disease one lipstick shade at a time.

7. Shhhhh! It’s a grave secret!

The extremely awful disease can be easily hidden from the patient's family members, and even the patient them self. Just send them on a vacation a week before the prescribed date of death. Then inform family via BFF running barefoot from hospital to family’s home and breaking the news, ‘Aunty! Waqar hospital mein hai!’

‘Nahiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!’ [Enter: screaming aunty from bedroom]

In case you are wondering, the above actually happened in one serial.

8. Doctor-patient privilege? Isn't that the name of a movie?

And lastly, let’s not forget about doctor-patient privilege. Or better yet, let’s forget about it altogether, because dare mention these words to anybody in the playwright's hospital, and the whole staff will look at you funny with a lopsided 'HUH' on their face.

In Pakistani dramas, if the neighbour’s grandpa’s tax attorney’s khala’s stepbrother comes to the hospital, the doctor won't think twice before spilling over every itty-bitty detail of the patient.

“Jee, ab toh bathroom jaana bhi mushkil hai.”

Followed by an even more timely conversation:

“Baat sunay, Mrs Gulzar, how is Shabana, your niece, after her abortion?”

9. Hurt my toe so I bandaged my head

A patient with a bruised ankle will want to be treated accordingly. So, naturally, the forehead must be bandaged and the camera must pan in to capture that healing device with a single blood spot placed strategically over one of the eyebrows.

Likewise for broken arm, stomachache or hallucinations. The bandage will always be there.

10. Have no fear, the doctor of everything is here

And lastly, our drama doctor wears many hats that wouldn’t be possible (nor permissible) in real life. A hospitalist is a surgeon is an ER specialist is a dentist is a paediatrician is an anesthesiologist is a cardiologist is an oncologist.

And despite knowing that this doctor is at the centre of a very complex love triangle octagon, and that taking the patient to them would complicate the already complex web of relationships even more, everyone has to go to that one Super Doc for everything because there just aren't enough doctors in the world.

Desi dramas are entertainment supreme, and that covers all aspects of the term. Whether it’s lovers or landlords, businessmen or doctors, it’s all done with entertainment in mind and so, real life's limitations have no place therein and they never will.

Well, no complaints. We got our popcorn and blankets. Please, continue…

A few years ago, I heard about a young student in Pakistan on scholarship to a prestigious university, commit suicide. Being away from Pakistan, I could not learn anything beyond hearsay. He had apparently failed an exam, the consequence of which was losing his scholarship, and he didn't know how to tell his family.

Vexed by this terrible tragedy, I shared it with a fellow Pakistani, who responded, quite shockingly, not with sympathy but rather, with anger:

“Parents ka nahi socha. Dost nahi hongay aur koi solution nahi dhoondna aya.”

[He should've spared a thought for his parents. Probably didn't have many friends and wasn't able to find a real solution.]

The sheer ignorance in the above statement was jarring and shook me up. That is probably the day the topic of suicide became an area of interest for me and spurred me on a fact-finding mission.

Also read: Suicide and depression: Can we snap out of snap judgements?

The World Health Organisation estimates that around one million people die from suicides every year, the global rate being 16 per 100,000 population. On average, one person dies by suicide every 40 seconds somewhere in the world, accounting for 1.8 per cent of worldwide deaths. These rates have increased by about 60 per cent in the past 45 years.

Pakistan does not report its suicide data to WHO. The numbers here are vastly underreported anyway, due to the stigma attached with suicide.

The need to have more conversations about this public health concern is urgent. There has to be a sustainable solution for destigmatising suicide victims.

Thanks to Dr Murad Moosa Khan, Professor of Psychiatry at the Aga Khan University, there has been research and conversation on this important topic, and the information on suicide in Pakistan that follows, has been amalgamated from his published work and excerpts of talks at forums, such as T2F.

The facts

Unofficial, independent estimates put the annual number of those committing suicide in Pakistan at 6,000 to 8,000. To every completed suicide, there are 10-20 attempts.

Most of the suicide cases were reported from Sindh, followed by Punjab, with very few from Khyber-Pakhtunkhwa and Balochistan. That, however, may be a reflection of the poor reporting systems more than an actually low incidence of suicide in the latter two provinces.

A psychological autopsy (a well-established method of studying suicides) study showed that depression was the single most important primary factor in 100 suicides in Karachi. Secondary factors that were related to depression and suicides included domestic disputes, financial concerns and unemployment, amongst others.

The common methods of suicide in Pakistan are (in order of frequency) hanging, followed by poisons (including insecticides and pesticides), firearms, drowning, self-immolation.

The majority of those completing suicide were under the age of 30. Twice as many men commit suicide than women. The majority of those who completed suicide, both men and women, were married.

This is in contrast to data from the west, where marriage is a protective factor. In Pakistan, interaction with spouses, in-laws and fulfilling other social and cultural obligations, such as producing male heirs, appears to be a source of considerable stress.

Why is suicide such a big taboo?

It was difficult for me to understand why, even educated and well-to-do individuals who have had a plethora of experiences and exposure, respond to suicide with derision and judgement. The answer, perhaps, lies in the sociocultural, religious and legal constructs within the country.

Read on: Who is responsible for the two Pakistani teenage 'suicides'?

97 per cent of Pakistan’s population is Muslim and although we inherited the British penal system, much like India, there have been subsequent amendments rendering the current penal code a hybrid between Muslim and English law.

Per this penal code, suicide and parasuicide are criminal offenses (PPC 309 of the Criminal Procedure Act) punishable with a jail term and/or a fine of up to Rs10,000. By law, all cases of parasuicide should be reported to the police of the area where the person is a resident. Interestingly, India has the same penal code and is actively working on removing section 309.

In Pakistan, in an effort to avoid run ins with the police and face possible harassment these cases are kept quiet and help is sought at hospitals that do not report these as forensic cases.

Social constructs that focus on a woman’s marriage prospects conceal all evidence of mental illness, including suicide attempts and deliberate self-harm. Families in which someone has attempted or completed suicide, become social pariahs.

This stigma, unfortunately, keeps people from seeking help for themselves or their loved ones.

What needs to change?

The facts presented above are staggering and paint a dismal picture.

Policies and attitudes need to be changed on a macro level. The government needs to focus on decriminalising and reducing access to means such as firearms and poisons.

With the dearth of psychiatrists, primary care providers need to learn how to assess and treat mental illnesses and refer complex cases to psychiatry. Realistically, all of that will require time and concentrated dedication.

How can you help?

People resort to self-harm and suicide as a last measure – a cry for help, an act of desperation, perhaps an inability to see the light at the end of the tunnel of life, darkened by mental illness.

It’s important to remember that while social problems – the oft-cited reason for suicide – are widely prevalent in Pakistan, it is only a very small minority of those who are underprivileged and unemployed, who indulge in self-harm or suicide. The majority do not. Safe to assume, then, that the minority who do, may have developed mental health issues and may have poor coping and problem-solving skills.

The most important fact to remember, however, is that suicides are preventable.

There is help to be had, even in Pakistan. All major cities have mental health professionals and almost all medical colleges have psychiatry departments with trained professionals. There are also charitable mental health services with free or nominal charges.

So, if you know someone who is struggling, don't judge them or make fun of them. Instead, give them your empathy and support; they are quite capable of judging themselves negatively, they don't need your help for that.

Feeling this way is not a failure of faith. Encourage them to talk, encourage them to seek help and if you happen to feel suicidal, don’t be ashamed, don’t despair. There is help.

Special acknowledgements to Dr Murad Moosa Khan for lending the author an ear and providing guidance and insight for this blog.

Related:

• Suicide, and the warning signs we miss
  
• It's okay to not be okay: My struggle with depression

Pakistan has produced some of the most exciting cricketers the world has ever seen.

Many of these players bowed out of the game before the inception of Twenty20 cricket, a format ideally suited to the country's style of play.

As Pakistan gears up for the main round of the National T20 Cup, here is a fantasy eleven of former players, who had all the ingredients to rule the shortest format of the game.

1. Saeed Anwar

Perhaps one of the classiest openers Pakistan has ever produced, this wristy left-hander from Karachi could score at the rate of knots, and was playing T20 style cricket long before the format became a reality. A wonderful timer of the ball, Anwar was particularly aggressive against spinners and medium pacers, and would have been one of the most successful T20 openers of all time.

2. Aamir Sohail

Who better to partner with Anwar than Aamir Sohail? Although Sohail wasn’t as elegant a batsman as his teammate, in his prime he could score just as quickly, and was particularly strong square of the wicket. Sohail’s aggression, which sometimes led to his downfall, would have been perfect for the T20 format. What’s more, his left-arm finger spin would have been more than useful for the team. Sohail was a classic example of a cricketer who was more than the sum of his parts.

3. Ijaz Ahmed

Carrying the most awkward batting technique I have ever seen, Ijaz was dubbed the 'axe man' for his stance. It is no wonder they called him the butcher from Sialkot. Also a brilliant fielder, Ijaz was pure dynamite when on fire, and could hit any bowling attack to all parts, even the fastest of them. I recall with fondness his low skimming sixers smashed against the Aussies in the World Series Cup Down Under. Ijaz also was useful with his gentle left arm seamers, with a slinging action more awkward than his batting technique. Ijaz scored 10 limited over centuries at a strike rate of over 80, and would have surely been a hit in T20s.

4. Zaheer Abbas

This man was pure elegance, and would have been the perfect batsman to follow the dynamic trio. Although the 'Asian Bradman' was a classical batsman in every regard, he could annihilate slow bowlers, which is a fantastic trait for a T20 no.4 batsman. Abbas boasted a limited overs batting average of 47.62. His strike rate, considering how in the 70s most batsmen scored at a snail’s pace, was an astonishing 84.80.

5. Javed Miandad

The greatest limited overs batsman Pakistan has ever produced, Miandad would have been the man to oversee the late overs assault, holding the batting order together for the hitters. His strength was his cut shots, innovative reverse sweeps, aggressive running, and a steely determination. T20 games often go down to the last ball, and there was no man better than Miandad to finish a game.

6. Mushtaq Mohammad

Until Imran Khan came along, Mushtaq Mohammad was considered Pakistan’s greatest all-rounder, and best captain since Abdul Hafeez Kardar. His brain would have proven useful in the think tank. Mohammad was a fine batsman capable of playing an unorthodox stroke or two, and could easily float up or down this T20 lineup. His legspinners were often quite dangerous, as the great West Indies side of the late 70s learned when they were unexpectedly defeated at home thanks to his incredible flippers. Mohammad would have been the X-factor in this T20 side.

7. Imran Khan

The captain of this T20 team, Imran would have been the perfect batsman at no. 7. He was capable of handling a crisis, thanks to a strong technique and an even stronger mind, and equally capable of destroying a bowling attack with his big hitting. As a bowler Imran was not only quick but could swing the ball as well, with lethal yorkers in his armory which are crucial in the T20 format.

8. Moin Khan

We were blessed to have two world class wicketkeeper-batsmen during the same era: Moin Khan and Rashid Latif (perhaps this is why we were cursed with the Akmals later to balance the scales). Although both Khan and Latif would have made great T20 players, Khan, the lesser keeper, has the edge with his explosive batting. A man for a crisis, Khan has clubbed many sixes for Pakistan over the years, but the one his fans will remember with the most fondness is the hit he smashed against New Zealand in the 1992 World Cup semifinal.

He swept sixes off Allan Donald and Glenn McGrath in the 1999 World Cup, a shot Sarfraz Ahmed so effectively plays now.

9. Wasim Akram

This man was a genius, and would have been the king of T20 cricket; easily the most sought after signing for any T20 league. Akram began his career during a time when speed guns were not the norm, but was said to be as fast as anyone. Later, he would cut down his pace, possibly to endure the level of non-stop limited overs cricket Pakistan was playing, and made up for it with deadly accuracy and guile. As a fast bowler who could swing it both ways and bowl lethal bouncers and yorkers at will, that too off a short run up, Akram would have been a diamond in T20 cricket. Few batsmen ever had the better of Akram, and his miserly economy rate would have been priceless in this format. What’s more, Akram could hit the ball as hard as anyone, which is an important characteristic for a late order T20 batsman.

10. Saqlain Mushtaq

Few slow bowlers would dare bowl in the later stages of the of a limited overs game until 'Saqi' came along. Saqlain could play both the role of a container and a wicket taker. His doosra would have made him unique in the T20 format, especially since he would be the only one bowling with a clean action after an ICC crackdown.

11. Waqar Younis

Growing up, Waqar Younis was my favorite cricketer. In his prime, no bowler was greater, not Marshal, not Lillee, not Akhtar, not even Akram.

Not only was Waqar bowling faster than 150km/h, he was swinging the ball like a banana, and was impossible to play. At his peak, his strike rate was streets ahead of other bowlers. While Akram was dangerous enough to remove a number of top order batsmen, Waqar would run through the middle and later order, achieving victories which felt magical.

His inswinging toe crushing yorker was delivered at pinpoint accuracy, and it would have made him a star in T20 cricket.

After losing his pace due to injury, Waqar compensated with swing and accuracy. In a nutshell, Waqar was Lasith Malinga times 20.

While the media in regional countries like India, Bangladesh, Sri Lanka and the Maldives have a good understanding of global climate change negotiations and are well aware of climate change and its impact on their countries, Pakistan still lags behind in its coverage of climate change issues. We are too focused on extremism and governance issues, which take up a lot of our attention, resources and time.

Journalists in Pakistan are largely unaware of the science behind climate change, future projections by scientists and what is happening at the global level (there was only one reporter from Pakistan covering the Copenhagen Summit).

Most have no clue about the importance of the upcoming UN Climate Change Conference 2015 or COP21 in Paris.

COP21 is important because the world is now already halfway towards the internationally-agreed safety limit of a maximum 2°C rise in global average temperatures. The consensus (reached at Copenhagen) is to prevent the global warming caused by the burning of fossil fuels around the planet exceeding 2°C above the pre-industrial global temperature. The UN’s Paris conference, later this year, aims to ensure that this limit is not breached. Scientists say that if we exceed the 2°C limit, it would be “catastrophic” for humanity.

Also read: Pakistan headed for water, food and energy disaster, NA committee told

How newsworthy is climate change? Does it receive the sort of media coverage that is likely to increase public engagement?

Alarmingly, on present trends, we look likely to add the next 1°C by the middle of this century. James Hansen, former director of NASA’s Goddard Institute for Space Studies, says that if the planet warms 2°C, “It is not difficult to imagine that conflicts arising from forced migrations, and economic collapse might make the planet ungovernable, threatening the fabric of civilisation.”

Paris is where important decisions, to curb carbon emissions that are currently warming the planet, are to be taken.

The Heinrich Boll Foundation, which is a political foundation affiliated with the German Green Party and has an office in Islamabad, is planning a series of workshops for journalists in the capital to discuss climate change and COP21 in particular.

This would result in greater awareness and better reporting about these issues in Pakistan, which is already reeling from the impacts of climate change like flooding, heat-waves, glacial melting, sea intrusion and droughts. The first workshop, that was held last week in Islamabad, was on “Introduction to COP21”.

Marion Mueller, the head of the Heinrich Boll Foundation in Pakistan, explained why it is difficult to come up with a global climate agreement even after 20 years of negotiations given the lack of political will. Nathalie Dupont from the French Embassy pointed out that there was immense pressure on COP21 to deliver a climate treaty that has to be agreed upon by 195 countries of the world and which would have “equity and justice”.

She said it would be a “huge task” for the French government to host the 40,000 people coming to Paris for the conference in December this year, and that they are trying to include civil society as much as they can.

“The media has an important role to play by focusing on solutions to climate change” she told the journalists.

Malik Amin Aslam, the Vice President of IUCN, spoke next about the importance of COP21.

“It is a complex challenge requiring a complex solution. The negotiations started in 1994 and this year marks 21 years of climate negotiations which will culminate in Paris, where we are to reach an agreement.”

He pointed out that a number of building blocks are now falling into place. There is an adaptation fund and adaptation committee in place and a forestry arm (called REDD+ or Reducing Emissions from Deforestation and Degradation). Developing countries including Pakistan are also working on a “Loss and Damage” instrument, insisting that they should be compensated for their losses due to climate change impacts.

Read on: India’s next weapon against climate change? The heat-tolerant dwarf cow

This year will also decide how much emissions each country will try to reduce. In Malik Amin’s opinion, the curbing of emissions in developing countries is linked to the delivery of finance, and that the $100 billion figure promised by the rich countries as help is very low.

In Paris, every country is to put forward its own steps to reduce emissions in the form of Intended Nationally Determined Commitments or INDCs, which should be synthesised into one document in Paris by November this year. This allows countries to focus on what they should be doing and many have already submitted their INDCs. Pakistan will submit its INDCs in September along with a number of developing countries.

However, these INDCs are flexible and voluntary; how do you synthesise them and give them legal cover?

The idea behind Paris is that the targets laid out by the individual countries, somehow get synthesised into a global agreement. But experts already say those targets will not add up to be enough to avoid the 2°C warming.

So how do you raise climate action? How do you get solid pledges from developed countries to reduce their emissions (as they did in the Kyoto Protocol)? These are all questions that will be addressed in Paris. Already, a deal has been signed between the two biggest polluters, China and the US. By 2020, the Chinese will start phasing out coal plants; the Chinese government is already moving away from having inland coal plants.

The US and India deal on climate cooperation is also another good signal coming from outside the negotiation process.

In Malik Amin’s opinion, Pakistan must ensure that its development pathway is not constrained in Paris. Pakistan’s vulnerability is increasing, but its emissions trajectory is also rising.

“We have a big energy problem; we do need coal which should not be imported coal but indigenous coal for Pakistan to use in the future … there are also alternative pathways available. However, cleaner pathways need additional investment.”

See: Experts to suggest steps for coping with climate change

Retired ambassador Shahid Kamal, advisor to the Climate Research and Development Centre at COMSATS University spoke next about how despite being a low emitter (of carbon emissions) Pakistan should still do something about mitigation.

“To move to a low carbon pathway, we need the cooperation of the international community; we need funding and improved capacity.”

Already, there is a Pakistani expert serving on the Green Climate Fund who could help us in our future planning.

“As a vulnerable country, we have to see what we need to do … we also need programmes to bring this about in schools and colleges. We have to prepare the younger generation about the world that they are going to inherit”.

Published in Dawn, Sunday Magazine, September 6th, 2015

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On a TV show discussing if child marriages are kosher, I realised I should not have been there in the first place. It was like discussing if waterboarding, maiming or beheadings were a laudable method of bringing societal change.

There can be no discussion when one party justifies violence of any kind using any stretch of excuses or beliefs; child marriages are violence.

Things quickly got worse, as they inevitably do on talk shows. A political party representative, a man, brought up Pakistani film actor Meera, and said he didn’t want a country where women like Meera defined standards of morality.

The speed at which men of politics mudsling women in the entertainment industry on any topic easily beats the time between food announcements at Pakistani weddings and what happens to the trays of korma and biryani nanoseconds later.

This is an increasingly recurring phenomenon in South Asia. One that recently resonated in the statement of a Communist Party of India (CPI) leader, who has blamed a Bollywood actor, Sunny Leone and her new contraceptives advertisement for the rising rape cases in India.

This is also a kind of devouring, an indulgence; the repercussions of which are dire for women everywhere.

For a country with massive overpopulation and under-poverty line existence problem for millions, it could possibly not be the condom ad he wanted an end to. For Atul Kumar Anjan, the target was Sunny Leone. Let us examine why.

Also read: Pemra takes controversial contraceptives commercial off air

Women who have complete command over their sexuality horrify men who make it their business to govern the general construct of society. Where men call the shots, make decisions on political and familial scales that have no input from women.

A sexually liberated woman is the embodiment of a vulnerable heterosexual male – it undoes false machismo, masculinity and above all, power. In his attempt to keep a second-to-none facade, his empire tends to crumble at the sight of her. It becomes a threat to the concept of a state and its social order.

Rape signifies a mala fide attack on the very concept of women’s sexuality; a putting in place so to speak. A tool used by men over centuries to settle feuds, wars, disputes and petty grievances.

Also read: 'Rape the girl, blame the girl'

It is criminal, if not absurd, to say that with advertisements like the one Sunny Leone appeared in, there is no bar on how many rapes happen as a consequence. This is like blaming the gas pedal for head-on collisions.

This downright refusal to acknowledge that there is a space between a stimulus and a reaction is the very basis on which civilisation after civilisation has built bloody empires.

This war on women needs to stop. This attempt to single out a woman, be it Meera or Sunny Leone, needs to be rejected in its entirety.

It is the very essence of a woman’s choice that is under attack, today it is sexuality and tomorrow, under its garb, it will be child marriage, divorce, inheritance, education and mobility.

Oppression is oppression under any new or shortened name. Tempting as it is to strike at the softest target, it is not measured, only disgraceful.

Even more so because the horror of the Delhi bus rape case has not washed off our memory. Nor have we forgotten the sexism it exposed in South Asian society when victim-blaming poured in about how she was asking for it for staying out late.

One would think the brutality of that rape would unfreeze any putrid rot of sexism from society, instead it only refined it, through politicians who tell people how to think.

No amount of perceived or deliberate provocation from a woman can absolve a man for a breach of consent in the act of rape. None. Ever.

Also read: The trivialisation of rape in Pakistan

This concept is difficult for many in South Asia to wrap their heads around but we can and should start by calling out politicians that deliberately flame the rape culture and glorify the crime itself by shifting the blame from the perpetrator to the victim.

It is the very passivity against these reckless statements that trivialises the dehumanisation of women.

Every girl child is coached to slouch, hide under covers, ignore gropes and eve-teasers and beware of the passions of men, who will after all, be men.

Well, it is time to expect men to be more than just invertebrates. Let us demand those that are not, to grow a spine.

Every sensible parent knows that the timely and frequent measurements of their newborn’s height and weight is essential for the child’s mental and physical development. A national Census is no different.

Conducted at regular intervals, a census allows governments, businesses, and others to take stock of the socio-economic health of the nation.

Without Census data, socio-economic planning is not much better than guesswork.

Rumours are ripe that the federal government is either hesitant or even reluctant to hold the decennial Census, which has been overdue since 2008. The last Census in Pakistan was conducted in 1998, only after a delay of seven years.

Also see: Census 2016

The Census should receive the same priority as the timely measurements of our newborns. Or else, like malnourished children, we will continue to raise a socio-economically malnourished nation.

Demographers, economists, and social scientists unanimously favour Census data because no amount of customised surveys or other databases, including Nadra, can be a substitute for the Census.

It appears that the government has not formally cancelled the Census. However, the funds needed to complete the task by March 2016 have not yet been released. An estimated 14.5 billion Rupees have been requested to hold the Census. The Pakistan Army will receive more than half of the requested amount (7.4 billion Rupees) to provide security for the Census.

Excluding transfers to the Pakistan Army, an estimated 40 Rupees have been budgeted to enumerate one individual. I find this estimate on the low side. In addition, large sums are needed to turn the Census data into research deliverables and insights and in research-ready formats for researchers in academia and public sectors.

Given the changes in the Statistics Act (Act number XIV), which was promulgated in 2011, the Federal Government is not bound to hold the Census at regular intervals. Part VI of the Act states:

“The Federal Government may, from time to time, by notification in the official Gazette, declare that a census of population and housing conditions of Pakistan shall be taken by the Bureau during such period as may be specified therein.”

Taking the Census is now more of a function of convenience than obligation. This would allow the governments to take the Census as per their short-term political needs. Such preservation of political self-interest is likely to harm the national interest.

Read on: Census challenges

Is there a substitute for the Census?

Some have erroneously argued that small surveys and other national databases could substitute for the Census. They are gravely mistaken. Neither in Pakistan, nor in an advanced economy, such as Canada, can there be a substitute for the Census.

In 2011, the Conservative government of the Canadian Prime Minister Stephen Harper replaced the long-form Census with a National Household Survey. The politically motivated decision by the Conservative government attracted rebuke from provincial and local governments, as well as academic and business researchers who knew that there could be no substitute for the Census.

The decision to scrap the long-form Census prompted the resignation of Canada’s chief statistician, Dr Munir Sheikh, who observed that a voluntary survey could not substitute the Census.

What about Nadra?

Some well-meaning individuals have advised the government that Nadra’s database could be a substitute for Census data. This advice, despite being well-intentioned, is based on ignorance of statistical methods, especially random sampling.

Nadra’s database is over-represented by those who need a national identity card or a passport. It systematically misses millions of destitute Pakistanis who see no value in the national identity card or a passport.

The primary data collection philosophy between the Census and Nadra differs. Individuals approach Nadra to be included in the database, this results in the response bias. The government, on the other hand, approaches all individuals to include them in the Census, thus limiting the response bias.

Another technical aspect of the Census is that it provides the sampling frame for all other surveys conducted by the government and other agencies. In the absence of a recent Census, the sampling frames are drawn from the 1998 Census. Furthermore, the delineation of political and administrative boundaries will have to be based on the dated 1998 Census.

Yet another key limitation with Nadra’s data is its proprietary nature. Nadra does not share its data with municipal or provincial governments. Academics and other researchers have no way of accessing Nadra’s data.

The Census, on the other hand, has a history of data sharing agreements with other tiers of governments, researchers, and others interested in public policy.

Lastly, Nadra does not collect the same details about households that are collected in the Census. Also, the systematic biases in coverage render Nadra’s data of little use for socio-economic planning. No wonder, analysts, such as Haris Gazdar, oppose any equivalence between Nadra and the Census.

Will Muslims outnumber Hindus in India? Not if you consult the Census

India conducted the national Census in 2011. It recorded 1.2 billion individuals. The recently released breakdown of the Census data revealed that the population of Hindus in India declined by 0.7 per cent. Hindus now constitute 79.8 per cent of the population. At the same time, the share of Muslim population increased by 0.8 per cent reaching 14.2 per cent of the total. This puts the Muslim population in India at around 170 million.

There was no reason for these numbers to rile up right-wing Hindu fundamentalists like they were. They are merely using these numbers to project the false image of a rapidly Islamising India, so as to strengthen the Hindu vote in the upcoming State elections.

Know more: 5 charts that puncture the bogey of Muslim population growth in India

If one consults the Census, one would realise that since 1991, the Indian Muslims inter-Census growth rate has been declining at a rate much faster than that of the Hindus. It is quite likely that the population growth rates of Hindus and Muslims will converge soon.

Amir Ullah Khan, who works with the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation and was quoted in the Financial Times, believes that the convergence of growth rates has already taken place in the developed and literate States of Kerala, Tamil Nadu, and Karnataka.

If it were not for the Census, Hindu fundamentalists would continue spreading false alarms about the Islamisation of India.

Source: Indian Census data reported in the Financial Times.

What should Pakistan do?

Census needs a champion in Pakistan. I see no one more qualified and adequately placed than the Minister of Planning, Ahsan Iqbal, to champion the Census from within the government.

He should lead a parliamentary committee that is proportionately representative of all parties in the Parliament. The Committee should act as an advocate to take the Census and lobby for the necessary resources required to keep the completed task. Such a committee will help develop the political will needed for any task of such scale and scope.

It is also important that this Census use the state-of-the-art in technology for enumeration and tabulation of data. This will eliminate the errors when data are digitised later. Aerial photography and GPS units should be used to demarcate Census geography.

The government should consider collaborating with Google, which has extensive experience in collecting such data. In fact, such tasks could be outsourced to companies like Google so that data are digitised and archived using the global best practices. It may even be cost-effective.

In 2006, I established the GIS laboratory at the Population Census Organisation (PCO). UNFPA funded the project. I was tasked to train the employees at the then Federal Bureau of Statistics in digitising the Census geography.

I ran a training workshop in Islamabad for 20-plus demographers and statisticians. It is my understanding that not much came out of the exercise, because Nadra pulled rank and took the task away from the PCO. Little is known about digitising Census geography since then.

At the same time, every effort should be made to build in-house capacity at the Pakistan Bureau of Statistics, its counterparts in the provinces, and its sister organisations, to collect, archive, analyse, and disseminate Census data.

In addition, for sound socio-economic planning, data liberation must be a central theme for the next Census in Pakistan.

It is the primary responsibility of the government to report on the state of the nation. Without Census data, the government cannot advise the citizens on the state of the economy and society.

The government might plan for the future. However, in the absence of a census, ignorance, and not knowledge, will drive that exercise.