Living on a Pakistani Passport

These days I have tried to increase my social circle so that I can change my employment status from unemployed to employed. However this has led me to a very important revelation. Its not exactly a revelation but kind of a reaffirmation of the fact that being Pakistani , in the outside world  can be a liability rather than a privilege.

 I recently met this guy at a telecom consulting company in Riyadh. He was Pakistani from top to toe. However I sensed something different about him. There was this aura of arrogance emanating from him. He looked Pakistani. He talked Pakistan, but no he did not feel Pakistani. I have not met many Pakistanis that have an internal pride. But he was different. In our conversation he kept mentioning how he did his masters from Australia and how that has helped him landing a well , very  very lucrative package. I couldn’t buy his story . I started an inquisition of some sorts . I told him I have many friends with a foreign education but none could land a job as you did. He grinned and said well people don’t really know the key to success here. I was curious, and asked him to elaborate. He said people over here value the nationality rather than your skills. Its kind of a marketing campaign that helps companies get contracts by telling the world we have a western employee at our company. And thus it became obvious that he was a proud aussie now and not really a Pakistani. And that was a point where flashbacks started to storm my brain. I suddenly remembered how all Pakistanis are treated like untamed animals at the airports of this friendly country. I then remembered how a country happily pays 30000 riyal per month to a western employee but would not employ a single Pakistani for more than 6000 at the same post.  I also remembered my friends telling me that they have to face constant questioning at European airports and from the European society in general just because they are ,well , Pakistani.  And thus it became clearer to me , that the people of the world have mentally deteriorated to a level where their racist thoughts value one nationality over the other . 

I kept hearing his marvelous adventures at the Australian embassy but his story made apparent to me that most of us have already sold our souls to materialism and now we are beginning to sell our pride and nation as well just to please a few racist minds.  I don’t know if I would have been any different if I was in his shoes , because in all sincerity , Pakistanis are perhaps the only people in the world who get a horrid time both in their own country and abroad.   And seeing  how we treat our citizens in Pakistan , some question whether  we really are Pakistanis or not ?

That’s a difficult question to answer for it would seem in our homeland , Pakistanis are but a few feudals who rule us like slaves. Many people are emancipated from this slavery when they get a foreign nationality. It’s a sad predicament that we have to face but I still strongly believe that its not enough ,yet, to sell our home land just for the pleasure of some twisted , racist minds.

As fate puts it ....

Let us pretend that all is well in this world. Let us assume that everything is within reach of an individual. Let us remember the story told to us when we were small , that anything and everything can be achieved  through hard work.

But before that let us take a close look at the world around us . A child is born in America.  He is born outside a garage and is taken to a foster home. He is taken up by foster parents who dream to educate him at a top graduate school . He goes to a government school, tries hard to achieve a good GPA . He enters a leading University in the USA but starts thinking of changing the world . His vision makes him drop out of a school , and initiates in him a will to start a business . He raises capital for his business and begins his journey to complete his vision. Twenty years later he is the proud owner of the multibillion dollar technology firm known as “ Apple ”. He grins and remembers the story of achieving anything through hardwork . Today the world bows down to him in recognition.

Now let us take another close look at another part of the world. A child is born in Pakistan . He is born to a poor family. He goes to a government school  and his parents , through sheer hardwork ,try to aggregate enough money to send him to a top Pakistani University. While in a University , he realizes that the burden of the world is hanging on his shoulders. He tops his university. He graduates and hopes to change the world. He realizes that he has to take care of his family who were waiting to see this very day , his graduation day .  Suddenly , his world falls down on him . He realizes there is no way he can have enough money to start a business .  He cant find a job , even after the hardwork he has done. He suddenly realizes that his dream of changing the world is torn apart .He tries to become a research assistant at his Alma matter with the ultimate motive of going out for a foreign post graduate education.  But he suddenly realizes that the government has slashed the funding for education and that there is no more place for research assistants at his university. He goes back to his home in a state of utter disbelief dejection and humility . He sits idle and hopeless. He remembers the story of achieving anything through hardwork and sneers. Today the world mocks at him for his failure.

A world torn apart !

The former story is that of steve jobs . The latter story is that of every pakistani graduate out there who does not have a high level contact in some multinational company or is not the son of an industrialist.  Both go through the same circumstances but in one place the society fulfils the dream of a child and in the other case the society is complicit in destroying the dream of a child.

Certainly in circumstances like these one can only leave it upto destiny , and perhaps blame destiny for the vast disparity in fortune . Indeed that might be true to some extent , but we must also remember we are equally to blame for a corrupt system that nurtures corruption and destroys every small dream we have . Let us persevere through this darkness and make an oath to sacrifice our dreams for a reality , a reality that one day a small child could grow  up with a dream ,with a vision  and that dream, that vision would not be snatched away from him by us. 

The Pakistani Dream.

What is the Pakistani dream?  Pakistan is a lovely country with lovely people who exhibit affection at almost every opportunity provided. However the disparity of wealth is slowly affecting the mindsets of millions of Pakistani families. A Pakistani family no longer wants to live peacefully alone and satisfied. They aspire to become like the icons they constantly watch on TV, the elites who constantly torture the brains of the mediocre Pakistani.

 Today a modern Pakistani teen aspires to study at a hip, hi-fi school such as beacon house , Froebels Atchison , LACAS etc . Why ? Its not because of studies . These schools skin you alive with their massive fees and they really donot offer anything worthy in return , other than English I guess. They donot teach you urdu , they donot teach you proper history . Why does the Pakistani teen still want to go there ?

Once I was standing at a counter of a shop. In front of me was a characteristically Pakistani aunty .She was narrating the story of her son to the cashier, “Asif sahib I have put him in beacon house because I want  him to go to Harvard , wahaan se tu bacha jaata hee bahir hai  “ she said boastfully . The cashier, in no position to argue, nodded his head as a sign of approval. This small dialogue which I overheard was the epitome of the mindset of the Pakistani family. The mother perhaps wanted what is best for her child but she decided what was best on the exclusivity and hype of a school rather than logic. She would live beyond her means and do anything possible. To a certain extent she wanted to show off.  She wanted to make sure that whatever she does is conforming with the society. She wants to brand her child with western values as they are ultimately what the elite follow and that culture is slowly being adopted by the masses.

This “hypnotism” is not only limited to the youth. The most common “sight” if you ever visit Islamabad is a Pakistani uncle walking in the morning with his german shepherd dog.  Another sight which you must observe is a Pakistani aunty going in a Toyota corolla with her driver, for shopping to a place like Jinnah super wearing those huge posh-rayban sunglasses .

Our minds have been infiltrated with corrupt western ambitious values. We were never like this. This is not us. Our ideals were not this. Our social structure was one of satisfaction and cohesion. Materialism has overtaken our souls. We today live a very sad and tragically tense life only because we crave for materialism that is personified by the western icons we follow.

At the end , what good is a Pakistani if he/she cant conform to his own values , if he/she does not maintain his/her identity and if he/she does not maintain his/her pride. Let us hope that this constant deterioration of the society can be stopped and we can rediscover our  Pakistani Identity.

Chaklala Scheme 3 : Part 4

Still in September 2006

When I was coming to NUST , I was handed a huge book which scared the crap out of me . The book was known as SOP or the standard operations procedures.  It was an army style manual which listed all the rules that were to ruin you for the next four years. Reading the details, the manual said we were to bring five white shalwar kameez , three white bedsheets , a white shirt and a grey  pant , oxford style shoes …..etc. The list was never ending. Initially I was flabbergasted at what I was reading. “Are they serious ?“ was what my brain was asking. Upon confirmation from the authorities , it turned out they were damn serious!   

 On the orientation day, I kept in mind the SOP, which was again organized in a shoddy old building now known as old NUST HQ , I felt strange , very strange. The primary reason was that I was the only one wearing the SOP mentioned “uniform” while all the other lads were dressed casually. This wasn’t the first time in my life, where I dressed in complete contrast to the crowd around me. The humiliation that you feel in circumstances like these is matchless. You feel like the clown of the class. But still I slowly sat on a seat and began listening to the boastful speech being given by some professor. The professor was mentioning the awards and achievements of NUST , which now after seeing the campus I knew were all blatant delusions . Never the less I knew I was stuck here  for the time being, and decided to make a few friends. To my disappointment, I couldnt find anyone around me to relate to. It seemed that people came in groups from certain schools and they were hanging out in those groups . Never the less I just walked around and tried to kill time. After some three hours , we were taken back to our legendary campus at scheme 3. I could not tolerate watching the “campus” and decided to skip the orientation and head back to my home.

 I slept my way through the day. In the night, another surprise awaited me when I was going to locate my hostel. The name of the hostels were “ Makkah plaza” , “Jeddah plaza” etc which ironically reminded me of saudia. My hostel was located on top of a shop, which we later called maghroor shop. There was a barred gate at the entrance of the hostel which just reaffirmed my belief that I was officially going to a jail.

Inside I was to meet our formidable foe for the next two years, Honorary captain Warden Afzal. My first meeting with him was casual and he kept reminding me of the rules as I was trying to find my room. All my dreams of a normal – drama style university life were slowly shattering into tiny pieces.

Alas, I learnt that I had to cope with this new contrastingly-different lifestyle, even though I hated changing myself.