Let's Weave A Dream

A friend, very disappointed with the current state of affairs in Pakistan, expressed his feelings with this couplet from Ghalib:

hairaan hun dil ko ro'un ke pitun jigar ko main,

maqdur ho agar to sath rakhun nauhagar ko main

The situation is indeed quite depressing for any person with a conscious head on his shoulders and a heart still beating in his chest. More than 2 million people have been affected by flood and flood relief failures in Balochistan and Sindh (here, here, here, here). As of today, at least 240 people have died, another 200 are missing in these two regions. In recent months, hundreds have died in political violence in different parts of the country. Under heavy storm and rain, within only two days, more than 200 people died in Karachi. The situation became so worse primarily because of the inefficacy of the city administration (here). And the latest, the loss of those innocent men, women, and children among the students who ended up in the Lal Masjid due to poverty, illiteracy, lack of social opportunities, or out of naive devotion and became dispensable pawns in the hands of their opportunist and misguided religious leaders and the short-sighted and corrupt political leadership in Pakistan, so willing to exceed any limits to preserve its power (here and here).

The blood of innocents has become so cheap, the value of life so worthless in Pakistan. Now, who wouldn't be depressed after witnessing all these developments. But, what can an average person like you and I do? I asked this question earlier in another post in reaction to the bombing in Peshawar and violence in Karachi (here). I suggested that we need to do retrospection on our sixty years history. Retrospection similar to what Sahir Ludhianvi, the poet, acerbically demanded from his Indian government in the below words, but also to look back on our own actions (or lack thereof) in these years:

aao ke aaj ghaur karen is sawaal par

dekhe the hum ne jo, wo haseen khwaab kya hue…

bekas barehnagi ko kafan tak nahin naseeb

wo waada-haa e atlas o kamkhwaab kya hue…

jamhooriyat-nawaaz, bashar-dost, amn-khwaah

khud ko jo khud diye the, wo alqaab kya hue

Come, and let us ponder on the question

Those beautiful dreams we had dreamt, what happened to them

Helpless nakedness does not even merit a shroud

What happened to those promises of silk and satin

Democrat, humanist, pacifist

What happened to all those self-conferred titles?

Only through this retrospection, I argued there, can we attain a realization of our plight. Realization that is needed to keep us from repeating the same mistakes again and again. But as we attain that realization, we need not despair. Instead, have hopes and dreams of a better future. As Sahir exhorts us: Aao ke koi khvaab bunein… (Let’s weave a dream otherwise the darkness of this hard age is going to suffocate both heart and soul to death). For it is hope that inspires the heart, that motivates the actions. The hope that Islam also gives to the oppressed ones: The meek shall inherit the earth. And, sooner or later, the truth shall prevail. That is the promise made in many divine scriptures. Indeed the idea of Mahdi, the awaited Savior, is an embodiment of that hope, inspiration, and dream (see here).

Let's weave a dream so our hearts remain alive and restless.

Sahir's Let's Weave a Dream:

aao ke koi Khvaab bunein kal ke vaaste

varnaa ye raat aaj ke sangiin daur kii

Das legii jaan-o-dil ko kuchh aise ke jaan-o-dil

taa umr phir na koi hasein Khvaab bun sakain

go ham se bhaagatii rahii ye tez-gaam umr

Khvaabon ke aasare pe kaTii hai tamaam umr

zulfon ke Khvaab, honThon ke Khvaab, aur badan ke Khvaab

meraaj-e-fan ke Khvaab, kamaal-e-sukhan ke Khvaab

tahzeeb-e-zindagii ke, faroG-e-vatan ke Khvaab

zindaan ke Khvaab, kuuchaa-e-daar-o-rasan ke Khvaab

ye khvaab hii to apanii javaanii ke paas the

ye khvaab hii to apne amal ki asaas the

ye khvaab mar gaye hain to be-rang hai hayaat

yuun hai ke jaise dast-e-tah-e-sang hai hayaat

aao ki koi Khvaab bunein kal ke vaaste

varnaa ye raat aaj ke sangiin daur kii

Das legii jaan-o-dil ko kuchh aise ke jaan-o-dil

taa umr phir na koi haseen Khvaab bun sakain

[dast-e-tah-e-sang = hands crushed under a stone (helpless)]