A Moment of Silence

Another bomb blast hit the land of the Quaid leaving many innocent people dead and wounded. This time in the northwestern city of Peshawar on Tuesday, May 15, killing at least 24 people and wounding dozens more. We thought we would take some time to recover from the shocks of the political violence during last weekend in Karachi, which took a toll of at least 41 lives. And here is one more day immersed in blood, one more evening filled with cries and sorrow.

A moment of silence and an expression of despair. What else an average person in the street can do? 'aam aadmi kai pass es kai elwa bhi koi chara hai? I wonder that myself.

But even if that's all we can do, then let this moment not pass into thin air. Let's make it a moment of realization. Realization of the real causes of our suffering. Sometimes I feel that we, as a nation, are unaware of our own plight. If we 'know' it to some extent, we do not 'realize' it (the difference between jan'na (to know) and man'na (to realize)). That's why we attach our hopes to the same people - the product of the same system, under different names and guises - each time one overthrows the other by force or by elections.

That realization would perhaps require hundreds of minutes of silence, in retrospection, in critical reflection. But it would be the first step toward a meaningful change of our conditions. Our experience, our sufferings, our journey over the course of history will eventually instill that realization into our consciousness. Or, perhaps that may happen sooner. There are reasons for hope - for example, in the increasing disillusionment of our people with the current status quo and political tug-a-war, the freedom of media/communications and the highly active civil society in urban areas, and our increasing consciousness of our situation in the global context.

The current political and social conditions in Pakistan remind me of a very perceptive poem that Faiz wrote on the occasion of independence:

ye dag dag ujala, ye shabgazida sahar
wo intazar tha jis ka, ye wo sahar to nahin

ye wo sahar to nahin jis ki arzu lekar
chale the yar k mil jayegi kahin na kahin
falak k dasht main taron ki akhari manzil
kahin to hoga shab-e-sust mauj ka sahil
kahin to ja k rukga safina-e-gam-e-dil

This stained light, this night-bitten dawn-
This is not the dawn we yearned for.

This is not the dawn for which we set out
Hoping that in the sky's wilderness
We would reach the final destination of the stars.
Surely, the night's turgid sea will breathe its last
On the inevitable shore.
Surely, the boat of the heart's agony will somewhere
Come to a stop.

The same poem ends with an exhortation and hope:

abhi chirag-e-sar-e-rah ko kuch khabar hi nahin
abhi garani-e-shab main kami nahin ai
najat-e-dida-o-dil ki ghari nahin ai
chale chalo k wo manzil abhi nahin ai

The earthen lamp shrugs its head in despair.
The night is as oppressive as ever.
The time for the liberation of heart and mind
Has not come as yet.
Continue your arduous journey.
Press on, the destination is still far away.

(Agha Shahid Ali's translation from "The Rebel’s Silhouette")