Nothing violent actually happened. No one actually said anything to me. There were no outbursts, there was no punching, there was nothing. But there were looks. Everyone there knew I was an Ahmadi and they were looking down on me, as if I was somehow inferior to them.
Source/Credit: A Troubled Mind Blog
By Saniya | November 11, 2013
The other day, I went to the passport to get my passport renewed. It was early in the morning, I had to wait in a queue so early, and in such cold weather. It clearly wasn't a good start to my day. The lady sitting on the picture desk station takes my picture, and it turns out worse than I was looking, and I know this day is just going to do downhill from here.
From there, I take the token and wait for the another call for all my information. Finally, after an hour or so, my name is called. I go and give all my personal information. He takes out a printout and asks me to make sure that everything has been correctly entered so that I can go to the next station. While I'm looking at the form, my eye catches a certain declaration that I have to sign.
Maybe, the last time I signed a government document was a time when I was a kid, or maybe I never noticed this clause, or maybe I am much more aware now about how the State treats Ahmadis. Whatever the reason was, I couldn't stop reading it, re-reading and then re-re-reading it just to make sure I had gotten it right the first time. But there it was, all in bold print.
Anyway, the person at the next station asks me to sign the declaration. I tell him that I can't because I'm an Ahmadi and I believe in the Promised Messiah (as) and that my religion is Islam Ahmadiyyat. He absorbs nothing, stares at me blankly, not accepting the fact that I can't sign it. He asks me to sign the declaration again and I refuse again and shove the paper in his face and tell him I can't because my religion says Ahmadiyyat in the first row. Finally, he seems to realize it and he lets it go.
After that, I wait for almost an hour for the interview. When my name is called, I go inside and the man sitting behind the computer takes the form from my hand and goes through it. He sees the unsigned declaration and asks me why I haven't signed it. I tell him I'm an Ahmadi and that I can't possibly be asked to sign it. The look on his face is something I can't really get out of my mind - it was a mixture of disappointment, contempt, superiority and hatred all rolled into one. The look went away within seconds, and he smiles and says oh alright then, your passport application has been approved and you will receive it within a week.
Nothing violent actually happened. No one actually said anything to me. There were no outbursts, there was no punching, there was nothing. But there were looks. Everyone there knew I was an Ahmadi and they were looking down on me, as if I was somehow inferior to them. They were looking at me as if I had some contagious disease which they might get if they sat near me. Their looks said - we might not be physically doing anything to hurt you, but you should know that we hate you and your kind, and you don't belong here. And for that moment, I actually felt that I didn't belong.
It has been almost 40 years since Ahmadis have been declared non-Muslims by the "Islamic Republic" of Pakistan. And since then, Ahmadis have been pushed to their limits, they have been kidnapped, murdered brutally, tortured not only by random people but by government officials as well. Declaration like these appear on every government form. Ahmadis are tried every day they step out of their house. They are scared for their lives, most of them are moving abroad because they are being declared Wajib-ul-Qatal on national television and newspapers.
There is a clause in the constitution of Pakistan, which declares the right of freedom of speech and freedom of religion, and then there is another clause declaring that Ahmadis are non-Muslims and that if they say or do anything through which they might even LOOK like Muslims, there will be a punishment of imprisonment and a liability to fine. This clause has been taken advantage of time and again by religious extremists who believe themselves to be God, and who murder innocent Ahmadis in the name of Allah. Whereas, in the Quran, nowhere has it been mentioned that it's okay to kill, torture or kidnap people as long as it's in the name of Allah.
It was a simple application for a passport, but it got me thinking. How much secure does the government of Pakistan really need to be? Do they need to prove Ahmadis non-Muslims, just to prove themselves as Muslims? Is that what Islam really is in their eyes? Do they not believe in prayers, Zakat, fasting, Hajj, being kind of others, Huqooqullah (rights of Allah) and Huqooq-ul-Ibad (rights of men)? Does their Islam start and end with killing everyone who has a different way of studying and practicing religion? I think they have forgotten what Islam means and what it really teaches, because there eyes are literally blinded by hatred.
Maybe some day, I might go to the passport office again to get my passport renewed and realize that the clause no longer exists, that no one will look at me as if I do not belong here, and no one will judge me for being an Ahmadi. And maybe someday, country I have come to love and adore so much, might decide to let me feel belonged here, let me feel loved and might decide to love me back for all the love I have given her. Till then, I just hope everyone stays safe from this hatred and contempt.
Read original post here: Go to the passport office, come home deep in thought
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Yes actually you peoples are the worst ever born creature on this earth;
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