Riaz wanted to learn English

It was almost 11 years ago when I stopped my car at the Teen Talwar traffic light to be greeted by the usual herd of beggars, windscreen cleaners and newspaper sellers.

One of the newspaper sellers, Riaz, a total of four feet in height, asked me for a lift to the Marriot signal. Irritated by the commotion around me, I chose to ignore him.

Rather than moving on, he boldly walked in front of my car, locked eyes with me, stuck his teeth out like President Asif Zardari would, if he stared at the sun, and performed a mini-break dance in defiance. His army of four footers was in hysterics.

What a cheeky little fellow!

The traffic light turned green and I drove on only to see high fives being exchanged in the rear view mirror.

About a week later, I was going to pick up my mother from the Karachi airport and once again stopped at the same traffic light. His Royal Cheekiness appeared, but this time he was alone. He politely informed me:

“Sir, signal tak jaana hai.” (Sir, I have to go to the next signal.)

I asked him to come around and sit in the passenger seat. As he sat inside the air conditioned car, he took a huge sigh of relief. He looked tired, worn out and a bit disoriented.

I asked:

“Kya huwa? Naach gaanay say thak gaye?” (What happened? Tired of singing and dancing?)

He looked at me quite confused. In return, I gave him a big smile and subtly mimicked his break dance move from the week earlier. He started laughing uncontrollably for about sixty seconds. “Sorry, sir”, he said to which I replied that Pakistan needs more artists, so he needn’t be.

After about five minutes, we arrived at his stop. He thanked me and asked if I wanted to buy a newspaper. I looked at him quietly for a few seconds trying to picture his entire day from start to finish. Perhaps a little recess was in order. “I’ll tell you what…” I proposed (in Urdu of course). “I’ll buy the entire stack if you give me company to the airport and back”.

It was as if the entire weight of the world was lifted off Riaz’s little shoulders and replaced by the thought of complete bliss, even if it was for just an hour. He agreed, closed the door and sat back down. I put on his seat belt for him (only to receive a condescending look), turned up the volume on the stereo and divided the AC vents between us. Conversation was expected to be limited, but satisfaction immense.

As it turned out, there were plenty of stories that were shared on our journey; some humorous, some serious and some downright painful (at least on his side). I could only offer two-bit advice knowing very well that it was all well and good in the theoretical sense, but too hard for someone in his situation to apply. Instead, we both chose to focus on the green patch of grass that was the present, especially the background (and sometimes blaring) music. In fact, Riaz became quite the fan of the Pulp Fiction soundtrack as suggested by his numerous head bobs and shoulder shrugs.

Upon arriving at the airport parking lot, Riaz jumped out of the car and raced towards the arrival exit as if he was going to receive some long lost friend after many years of separation. Trying to stand tall on the railing he would point towards every arriving passenger and impatiently ask, “is that them?” When my mother finally came out of the exit, Riaz ran towards her and grabbed the carry-on piece she was rolling. In her confusion, she let go off the bag not knowing its fate. To her amazement Riaz came and stood right beside me with the piece. “Er…and who are we?” she asked with a confused grin. “We sell newspapers” I replied with a big smile.

The three of us sat in the car and proceeded towards Clifton. This leg of the journey, Riaz was very formal. Not a peep came from the back seat. My mother and I conversed mostly in English with a few sentences of Urdu mixed in as we usually do, ignoring the fact that there was another passenger in the car. After about ten minutes, my mother started asking Riaz questions about where he lived, what he did, his parents etc. But I was a little surprised at the bluntness of the answers and how they lacked the same detail he shared with me earlier.

Occasionally I would glance at him through the rear-view mirror and find him staring into the empty space as if he was listening to something intently. Perhaps he was trying to focus on the faint music coming from the rear speakers. What a musical nerd I thought; God bless him. We ended up dropping Riaz at the Baloch Colony Bridge. As promised, I bought his newspapers. I also asked Riaz if I could meet him the next day at the same Teen Talwar traffic light. He agreed.

I packed a few bags of some old clothes (quite oversized for a ten-year-old) and other things that I thought would be handy for him. Riaz was at the traffic light, but without any newspapers this time. He sat in the car looking quite dissatisfied. I asked him if he had a great day and sold out. His jaw-dropping reply caught me completely off guard:

“Mujh ko akhbaar nahi baichnay… mujh ko ungraizee seekhni hai.” (I don’t want to sell newspapers. I want to learn English.)

Then it hit me. Riaz wasn’t staring into the empty space trying to listen to the faint music while sitting in the back seat. He was trying to decode the conversation my mother and I were having. He was trying to absorb the ‘sound of English.’

His timing couldn’t have been worse. I was leaving for the States in two weeks to pursue my undergraduate studies or else I would have taught him the language myself. In retrospect, I could have fixed him up with another family member, but that thought didn’t cross my mind at the time. Instead I took him to Boat Basin and bought some primary school books for English. But there was a catch. He had to find someone to teach him.

Parked outside the book store in Boat Basin, I gave Riaz an hour long lecture, the content of which shall remain between the two of us.

I handed him the bags, the books and an envelope.

He looked very sad. I felt even worse.

Then I ripped out a piece of paper from a notebook and wrote Riaz a letter… in English (the contents of which shall also remain undisclosed).

I wrote my e-mail address on it. If Riaz ever wrote back to me, well I don’t have to explain what that would mean.

Almost eleven years later (three days ago) I received an e-mail from Riaz for the first time. His determination to learn to speak the language proved to be truly remarkable.

Riaz’s story is a testament to the fact that our youth is thirsty for education. Unfortunately our leaders have not provided the necessary infrastructure – but that story is old now.

We have run out of excuses to let things be as they are. If only one per cent of us took the responsibility to take one 10-year old from the street under our wing, in ten years we would have 1.8 million more educated people than what would have been otherwise. Ten years fly by. Imagine if two per cent of us mobilised.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to do anything substantial for Riaz. He is completely self-made.

But, he did do something for me. He reminded me that there is no excuse for mediocrity.

Four majors questioned for links to detained brigadier

ISLAMABAD: The army has questioned four majors in connection with Brigadier Ali Khan, who was detained last month for alleged ties to extremist organisations, Inter Services Public Relations (ISPR) Director General Major General Athar Abbas said on Wednesday.

Abbas told Reuters the four majors had been questioned but had not been detained.

“They are being questioned in relation to the brigadier case,” he said.

Their questioning followed the arrest of Khan, who had been serving at the army’s headquarters in Rawalpindi for the last two years.

He has been detained for his alleged ties to the banned Hizb ut-Tahrir, which seeks to overthrow what it deems to be the ‘pro-American’ government and replace it with an Islamic caliphate system in Pakistan.

Khan had been under surveillance for the past several months and was arrested last month when his contacts with the banned outfit were confirmed.

Why I chose Imran Khan

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Imran Khan is a name that comes up often in political debates among people affiliated with Pakistan. In times of trouble many see him as a ray of hope in a jungle of darkness. Others however, have accused him of playing popular politics, not taking a stance on important issues, and – when I heard this it blew my mind – being a terrorist sympathiser.

Opinions differ (but not evenly) and though Imran Khan has tremendous support from the youth of the country, bashing his politics is also extremely popular in newspapers and the social media. I, as a convinced supporter, will break this trend and speak of the man and his party in good taste.

Firstly, I feel it is important to reintroduce the person in question.

Who is Imran Khan?

Imran Khan is known as one of the greatest cricketers of all time. His bowling and captaincy alone could individually grant him that honour, but put together with his batting as well as guiding the Pakistan cricket team to their only world cup win in 1992, they place him on number eight on ESPN’s list of Legends of Cricket, as well as in the ICC Hall of Fame and in Oxford University’s hall of fame, from where he graduated from, with degrees in Politics, Economics and Philosophy.

After losing his mother to cancer, Imran Khan founded the Shaukat Khanam Memorial Cancer Hospital with the help of donations, to help underprivileged people suffering from the deadly disease.

The hospital, which was told by certain American technocrats that it would not be able to treat more than five per cent of its patients for free, proved all odds wrong, and a decade and a half later, was recognised as a centre of excellence and the only hospital in the world that offers free treatment to 70 per cent of its patients, by the World Health Organisation (WHO).

Khan became chancellor for Bradford University and convinced them to affiliate themselves with a college he was thinking about building in Mianwali. Namal College, offers Bradford University degrees at a co-educational school, just 40 miles from where drone strikes occur.

None of these accomplishments would have been possible without the generous donations of the people of course. The fact that he raised six million dollars in a matter of months through donations for the victims of last year’s floods, shows how much the people of Pakistan trust the man and his willingness to help.

Why not Imran Khan?

So when a proven leader, who is not corrupt, forms a party focusing on the lack of justice in Pakistan, do I support him?

The easy answer is ‘yes,’ and this easy answer has become even easier given the current situation of the country. All other major political parties are directionless, corrupt, opportunists and tested. Compared to criticisms of the PMLs, MQMs and PPPs, Tehreek-e-Insaf is almost angelic – but it is criticised nonetheless.

Analysing criticism

PTI was criticised for supporting Pervez Musharraf during the referendum but later denouncing him. I was very surprised to see people had a problem with that. To me the party did what most people did. Musharraf’s 14-point agenda was brilliant and he had my vote in the referendum too, but he lost a massive number of fans because of what he did afterwards and it would have been wrong to not denounce him in the circumstances.

After lashing out at the Muttahida Qaumi Movement (MQM) for terror politics, PTI was criticised for agreeing with them on the topic of drone strikes. This is also a strange criticism in my eyes, because I think the general public opinion about drones is very clear and if two parties agree on one thing, it does not change their disagreements.

The major critics of Imran and the PTI however, talk about his solutions to terrorism, foreign policy and stance on other larger issues.

Imran Khan says that in order for terrorism to decrease, Pakistan must exit the war on terror and hence refuse US aid. His critics argue that this is indeed Pakistan’s war and that US aid is necessary. Here again, I agree with the PTI.

My contention is that Pakistan is targeted because it is assisting the United States in the war. As for whether this is our war or not, it definitely is now, but I don’t believe that it can be solved by conflict. Withdrawing from the war would reduce terrorism since we will lose the label of American agents. The tribal areas of Pakistan have a history of never losing wars and aimlessly dropping bombs on random areas from unmanned aircrafts will only result in more civilian deaths and new radicalism.

If the Americans themselves can hold direct talks with the Taliban, why is Imran Khan a sympathiser for doing the same – especially if there is clearly no other solution?

Surely the current strategy has proven to be counter-productive. Many people have no idea about the tribal areas, its people, history or culture. Imran Khan has been there and has even written a travel book on the place, and of course what he predicted eight years ago about this war, all came true. As for the money that would be lost in aid, a proper system of tax collection was proposed by the PTI where it would be made sure that tax evasion was eliminated. Given the status of Pakistan’s tax avoiding elite, I fully believe that even lowering the tax rate can increase your revenue as long as everyone pays their taxes.

Imran’s stance on everything

The final point I will make is one that I feel is very important. Recently no one has been more vocal than the PTI when it comes to opposing drone strikes, but the sit-ins and demonstrations have been termed as anti-American popular politics.

People say that Imran Khan claims to be uncompromising and fears no one, but does not stand up for the defenceless minorities and the radicalisation of society and does not speak on controversial religious issues.

First of all, in my opinion the drone strikes are a violation of international law and (despite some success in eliminating extremists) kill innocent people and increase extremism. This is a huge injustice on the innocent people of the tribal areas and protesting against it is the equivalent to showing concern, which being a citizen of this country, or simply human, you should be able to do – be it a popular stance to take.

Furthermore, Imran Khan does not claim to be anti-American. He says the two countries should have a relationship where both parties are equal, instead of Hilary Clinton coming and giving orders to our politicians.

Moving on to the issue of his stances – I think people are unaware that privately Imran Khan said that if you lose the support of the ‘right-wing’ or the ‘Islamic-class’ in the country, you will never come in power. I concur with this point, as most people would – knowing the society we live in.

Imran Khan does speak on issues regarding religious minorities but not in the same capacity as his drone stance. I recall he sided with Salmaan Taseer on the issue of Aasia Bibi, but again, not in the same amplitude. There is a specific mindset that people have that will not change overnight, but needs time, education and awareness. That is why Imran Khan takes the views that he does on such matters. This does make his critics correct in some sense regarding popular politics, but also proves his other critics wrong, who say he does not compromise.

At the end of the day we all have a responsibility. We can bash a particular person who is trying to help and maybe deflect some votes away from him, or we can applaud him for what he has done for the country so far, create awareness about it, and give suggestions to improve any shortfalls we see to improve his ideas further.

In Imran Khan, we have a social visionary and a legend for the country. His purpose and reason for being in politics is to see a better Pakistan and to ensure justice for all citizens.

We have a choice: support, vote and help Khan, or take our ailing country to the same old doctors that put her in this condition in the first place.

I’ve made my choice, maybe you should too.

30 rules for survival in Pakistan

The mammoth difference between the lifestyles, and opportunities, provided to the so called elite, and the average man living a hand-to-mouth life, in our country, is nothing new to us.

If you wish to survive in this country, you have to climb on the bandwagon.

And the following instruction will tell you exactly how to do that. Please follow them very carefully. In case anything goes wrong or you are left morally impaired or religiously handicapped, just die.

1. If you are already filthy, and ridiculously rich, go directly to instruction number nine.

2. If you do not think you can ever be rich living here, just die.

3. If you are willing to do anything to be rich, please continue reading.

4. Now that we have established that being rich is of the utmost importance, let’s review some steps on how to get there.

5. Start early in life – lying is a good way to start. It can be your cornerstone for other things to come.

6. Lie, cheat and steal. Schools are the best place to practice these attributes. Be as good as you can be at these. They will come in handy in the future.

7. Be very clear in your mind, that whatever profession you choose or whatever you do in life should have only one purpose: to be filthy rich.

8. If you think you have any other purpose in life, just die.

9. The poor don’t matter. They are only a figment of some people’s imagination.

10. Remember: All rules can be broken, twisted and manipulated in any way you want. You just have to be at the right post to do that.

11. It is okay to murder. It is not really a crime in this country. Blasphemy on the other hand might get you some whipping so that is a no-no.

12. Loans are not actually loans. They are free takeaways. They come with a no return policy.

13. The higher the post you occupy, the more it becomes your moral obligation to commit bigger crimes.

14. If you feel you are lagging behind in popularity, form a political party. (Free tip for naming your party: Doesn’t matter what you name it, just have ‘Pakistan’ somewhere in there.)

15. Bribes are only bribes if taken by people you don’t know.

16. Being a Maulvi grants you an added advantage of making up whatever rubbish you want to about religion.

17. Be very clear about your provincial background. If you don’t belong to any of the provinces and don’t think they mean more to you than the whole country itself, just die.

18. It is okay to make friends who are just as morally dead as you are. We are all going to hell anyway.

19. Don’t worry about going to college. A degree is a degree, be it fake or real.

20. If an opportunity presents itself to make money illegally, we all pity the fool who is left behind.

21. Traffic rules are for driving schools and senior citizens.

22. It is compulsory for you to buy the latest Land Cruiser, tint it up and leave off the number plates.

23. Have a Police mobile escort or two with you at all times. Also, it’s okay to drive on the wrong side of the road with your motorcade whenever you please.

24. By now if you’re finding it hard to keep up, just die.

25. If you have kids, and you love them, then make sure you do not send them to a university in this country.

26. When you feel you have amassed enough money by hook or by crook, amass some more.

27. You absolutely cannot live in a house or mansion whose size is less than 1,000 square yards.

28. If you feel you have reached a point where you have bent every rule and bribed everyone you could have bribed and still your work isn’t getting done, remember, there is always someone out there who can be bribed.

29. If traffic does not need to be held at a standstill for you to move around the city, then you have wasted your life.

30. If you felt you’re nothing like the people mentioned in these instructions and you still live in Pakistan, just die.

Rangers shooting: Lust for blood

The video of Sarfaraz Shah’s last traumatic moments imploded on to cyber space with some enthusiasm and a profusion of expletives. Messages like “check kar yeh video” (check out this video), “here’s the full video, yaar,”  “sharing the HD version,” “uncut footage” and “exclusive video” pepper the Facebook newsfeed. Bloodied and battered thumbnails accompany the excited posts. Lust for blood, it seems, is not exclusive to criminals.

Slowly, steadily and grimly, Sarfaraz Shah’s life was extinguished on tape. His blood was squeezed out drop by drop, fanning out in a wider and wider crimson circle around his wiry frame, as he lay on the ground beseeching for help:

“Haspataal puhancha day yar, mujhay haspataal to puhancha day!’’ (Take me to hospital, my friend, please take me to hospital!)

How ironic that Sarfaraz was begging for help from the same people who had looked him in the eye and shot him at point blank range moments ago. The very same “law enforcers” in the garb of Rangers who have been deputed to safeguard Karachi and it’s besieged people. As Sarfaraz lay face down in a pool of his own blood, the footage showed a few pair of boots ambling past him.

While the ‘guardians’ looked on calmly as Sarfaraz writhed in agony on the floor of a park, people were strolling and jogging close by, with many avidly watching this gory spectacle. Not one of these Karachiites stepped forward and asked the Rangers to take Sarfaraz to the hospitals nearby, or tried to assist him in any way. Not only is justice blind and deaf in this land, but so are the people who do not have an iota of sympathy or empathy for another citizen in pain.

When Sarfaraz was finally taken to Jinnah hospital, the doctors said that he was still breathing, but died moments later due to excessive bleeding.

A Matric student, Sarfaraz had a zest for life which was all too visible in the video as he tried to claw away from the clutches of the Grim Reaper. All he needed to survive was time so that his torn body would have healed, but those precious few moments were denied to him.

The initial report filed by the Rangers said that the boy was killed in an “armed encounter.” It was only when the video of his cold blooded murder was made public that the statement was retracted when it became evident that Sarfaraz was not armed and was of no threat whatsoever to these heavily armed officials.

Our ubiquitous Interior Minister Rehman Malik says that although Sarfaraz Shah’s killing was unjustified, he was a robber who was handed over to the Rangers by the park guard.

Many people have the audacity to justify Sarfaraz’s death by saying such instant accountability needs to be meted out to criminals. To such confused compatriots, I want to ask:

Do you really trust our law enforcers?
Would you let the women of your family go to a police thana (station) to file an FIR?

If the answer is no, then why do you set so much trust in their version of events?

Tomorrow, they could gun you down and say you were a dacoit, and produce a gun with your fingerprints emblazoned across it.

Whatever happened to the central tenet of justice that a man has the right to be innocent until proved guilty?

If vigilantes and police are going to mete out justice summarily and brutally, then pray what is the need for courts?

Let’s just go back to the Stone Ages and bludgeon each other to death.

Amidst all the fury directed at the trigger happy Rangers and the government, it has to be said that they are not the only ones who share the blame for our diseased and rotten society.

Who were those spineless silent spectators who let Sarfaraz die an undignified and useless death?

This video holds up a mirror to our society, and if the reflection is ugly and shocking, who can we blame but ourselves?