Source/Credit: The News International | Pakistan
By Talat Farooq | October 31, 2011
Unable to cope with poverty and deprivation, Raja Rind, a jobless father of two, died in Islamabad after setting himself on fire a day after Begum Nusrat Bhutto’s death. While condolence books have been placed in different Pakistan embassies and the President House for recording of sentiments on the sad demise of Begum Bhutto, Raja’s self-immolation can obviously merit no such privilege. But imagine if there was a condolence book for Raja what would different sections of our society write in it?
The ruling elite may write thus: “Sorry young man, we were too busy to listen to your voice for we have better, more economically viable things to do. The marble Taj Mahal that we have helped erect in Garhi Khuda Baksh is in memory of our shaheeds whose untimely and violent deaths have washed away all their worldly sins and whose names we can glamourise to further our own political greed. The amount of money spent on the Bhutto Mausoleum alone could have fed your children and coming generations, but that is such an idealistic thought and we are realists by profession.
“We promise that the parliamentarian you voted for will take this opportunity to capitalise and gain some political mileage in Naushero Feroz. You know, donate a few lakhs from state funds (your money, by the way) to shower on your children, especially your little boy who came into this world two days after your death. What with elections in the offing and perpetual spring (for us) in the air!
“It was your fault that you chose to be born in a poor family. And you had no business dying on the public holiday in honor of madr-e-jumhooriyat. You lived by our rules and you should have died by our rules. The truth is that there was no point in taking your own life anyway. Pakistan is not Tunis and we are confident that your death will usher in no South Asian Spring. Tough luck, Raja!”
And what would the chief justice write in it? “My heart goes out to you and the rest of the long-suffering wretched Pakistanis. I am trying so hard to mete out justice to the poor and the weak for by God they deserve it. But somehow when it comes to implementing my very bold decisions I don’t seem to have enough means at my disposal. I can feel for you and cry for your widow and orphans and I can mention you in my address to the bar, but being a legal man my hands are tied. Sorry Raja, it is almost impossible to rope in the corrupt to ensure that your money can be brought back to Pakistan and spent on millions like you.”
And what would the army chief write in it? “It is important that the economic interests of my organisation are looked after. As for your economic interests, well, those have forever been subordinated to the military’s; this wasn’t going to change any time soon. Why could you not accept this bitter truth like a good Pakistani? My predecessors have ensured over the decades that by maintaining security as the number one objective Pakistan never becomes a welfare state.
“Although I head the single most powerful institution in Pakistan I do not find it necessary to put my foot down to rid this unfortunate country of rampant corruption and hollow governance – factors that are more destabilising than terrorism. The military has suddenly decided to go all democratic. We reserve the right to create the mess but not the responsibility to help clean it.
“Raja, I was unable to help you because my institution can be either democratic or dictatorial; there is nothing in between. And unfortunately what your situation required was a prudent middle course that refuses to appear on our radar screens. Sorry, boy!”
And what would the militant mullah write? “Now look what you have done! ‘Jahannum’ in life and now ‘Jahannum’ after death, reserved for all suicide-cases except the bomber type. Didn’t you know that you were supposed to be patient forever, suffer in silence and hope for divine intervention? If at all you had to die you could have used the jacket. The out-of-context-ayats that I kept reciting were meant to strengthen your faith in jihad against the Kafirs and not to wage jihad for your own God-given rights in a Muslim society.
“You have ruined my efforts to keep you focused on what I thought was appropriate to read out to you from the Holy Book. As God is my witness, I made sure that you never recited or understood Surah Maaun that heaps woe upon such Namazis who repulse the orphan and do not encourage the feeding of the indigent; whose prayers are but a hypocritical show of hollow acts of goodness and charity. Sorry sinner Raja, no ‘hoors’ for you.”
But above all, dear reader, what would we, the silent majority, write in it?
“Hey Raja, that was quite a media stunt you pulled! Imagine being splashed on TV screens and newspapers for a whole 48 hours! Did a miserable good for nothing like you ever even dream of such fame? Wish we had the guts to immolate our precious selves in front of the lodges of our feudal lords.
“We have faith in Indian film-makers and are hopeful that your newborn is your reincarnation and will eventually take revenge from the powerful; Amitabh/Rambo style. At least we hope he would because we do not want to get embroiled in your sordid tale; we are busy enjoying political talk shows that entertain us and Bollywood/Hollywood blockbusters that promise social justice and the triumph of good over evil. We are fully aware that your death was a murder and not suicide and that our silence makes us partners in crime, but as good citizens we always adhere to the wise words of Ibn-e-Insha:
“Mehfil main kuch habs hai aur zanjeer ka ahan chubhta hai
Phir socho, haan phir socho, haan phir socho, Khamosh raho”
We should all thank our lucky stars that there is no condolence book for Raja.
The writer is a PhD student at Leicester, UK. Email: talatfarooq11@gmail.com
Read original post here: A condolence book for Raja
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