My Very Own Inferno
I’m submerged. The room is a dark, soothing cave. It’s cold, but snuggly under the duvet. A foot touches mine, glances it actually. I shift slightly to the left: force of habit. Don’t like being touched when I’m sleeping.
My mind’s heavy, and for a second I can’t recall the day of the week. Knowing this is crucial, since it means the difference between being upbeat, and morose. And, between dragging ass out of bed at an ungodly hour and a blissful lie-in.
It’s Wednesday. Smack in the middle of the week, a thought that tempers reflexive dismay at the prospect of rising, showering, and getting to the office.
But just as I’m about to stick one foot out of bed and onto the cold, smooth floor, I remember.
There won’t be any work today, or any other activity for that matter. The city’s burning. Scores have been killed; cars set afire; shops destroyed. All this, as reaction to the murder of a prominent local politician. The man was gunned down while in the midst of ablutions, at a funeral no less. Instant passport to heaven, this. Is it enough to cancel out the corruption, the blatant posturing, the flagrant misuse of authority? I’ll leave that to personal opinion, since none of us is privy to the mysteries of the afterlife. And no, I don’t care what you think, Mullahs And Hypocrites United.
Not that I’m acquainted with the dead man’s record. It’s just easy (and accurate) to pin such generic allegations onto any politician in Pakistan. Because it’s usually completely true. Doesn’t really matter which one you’re discussing. They’re all the same.
I cut short my musings to reflect on what this turn of events means for me, personally. No work, for starters. Idleness looms ahead; I can work out, watch TV, read, maybe smoke a joint. Towards evening, there’s the leftover wine and whisky available. We can get into that if we’re bored.
So, a favourable outlook after all. It’s shaping up to be a chilled out, fun day.
I’m being honest. Alternately, I could’ve indulged your sentiments and my own pretensions by going on about the tragedy of it all. The innocent people who were brutally murdered while they went about their day. Those who lost their livelihood at the hands of the bloodthirsty mob. The pointlessness that morphs an ordinary day into a terrifying, savage one.
But why should I bother? It’s unoriginal, it’s trite, it smacks of insincere grandiosity and worst of all, it’s bloody boring. We’ve all heard it before. Want a rant? Check out the local news channel of your choice, where they’ve been bleating about injustice and sorrow and governance blah blah nonstop. No one actually believes anything they’re saying, you know. The channels can barely conceal their glee at the soaring ratings; the ‘experts’ and politicians are eager to get out there, be famous, drum up votes for the future… anchors and reporters thrust mikes with audacious seriousness into the faces of victims’ families, asking questions of earth-shattering import, such as, ‘and what did your son eat this morning when YOU SAW HIM FOR THE LAST TIME?’ (In case you haven’t realized the horror of it fully).
To truly amp up the drama, our prodigious channels have several tools at their disposal. Where’s the fun in balanced reporting, after all? On the menu: relentless slo-mo (think 1970s camp-as-art cinema), cringe-inducing tragic music (often plagiarized from such authentic Muslim sources as the LoTR soundtrack), and the camera panning down to capture the grisliest of images (bloody, severed limbs hanging from a swaying tree: check) as well as those that should be completely private (woman wailing, tearing her hair out while mourning the loss of her loved ones: check). All this, perhaps, to club viewers over the head: don’t you understand that this is TRAGIC? You should be crying/ screaming in horror/ beating your breast at the futility of it all RIGHT NOW. And in case you’re too dense or insensitive to FEEL THE PAIN, here’s some drama to get you going. Oh, and unless you’re RIPPED UP WITH GRIEF AND TERROR right about now, you’re inhuman.
This isn’t reporting, by the way. It’s sensationalism, it’s tabloid tactics, it’s fear-mongering. It’s like the time when channels started airing graphic scenes, preceded by a PG rating. Yup. You got that right, folks. The news, now subject to the caution of censorship! Forget about the fact that news is supposed to be about facts and objective, impartial analysis, rather than merely a means to get disturbing reminders of violence and sadism and cruelty straight into your homes. Also, forget the principle that anyone should be allowed to have access to the news. You know, because it’s the news. Instead, let’s have restricted viewing. Hell, this may even reap ancillary benefits. After all, cultivating mass ignorance=more power. And starting young’s an added bonus, isn’t it?
To sum up, I don’t give a shit anymore. I really don’t. When the mobs rears its ugly head, all I do is check on the whereabouts of my loved ones, ensure there’s food and water and cigs aplenty in the house, and sit back. No hysteria, no tears, no reflections on the baseness of humanity, or on the sad state of this country.
Because that? True waste of time.
In other news, people have been criticizing the ‘President’ of this country (quotation marks to signify my continued state of bemused disbelief at this man actually being President) for fleeing abroad. Well, it’s ostensibly a State Visit etc, but here’s the problem people have: the country’s going to shit, steadily and inexorably. The ongoing mayhem in my city is the least of it, actually. Floods have ravaged the entire country, leaving thousands homeless and bereft.
And that wanker’s off lording it in Paris and London.
The second issue: he’s kissing ass in London mere days after the British PM fucked us over royally, by way of a harsh, categorical-sounding statement against the country. And yet, there he is, bowing and scraping (as he should; the man’s a Pro). Of course, he claims he’s there to set the record straight. Translation? I want to have a bit of fun, damn it! It’s summer vacation, ingrates!
Anyway, I rather sympathize. Hell, if I had an out, I’d be long gone. I’d forsake my glorious nation and every last ignorant, violent, miserable countryman of mine in less than a heartbeat. The fact that our President may harbor similar dreams is just a reflection on how laughable this whole nation has become. After decades of threatening to do it, we’ve finally done it. We’ve become utter failures, sans a single silver lining to clutch at.
Besides, if you ask me to be really honest, I’ll admit that what irks me most isn’t the confused, corrupt paranoia characterizing this man. It’s his blasted offspring. Those kids who can barely speak our language without stuttering and stumbling their way through the simplest sentence; who’ve been surrounded by luxury since birth, and seem to live in a rarefied cocoon everyday; who have the audacity to harbor grand ambitions toward a future in politics. See, they think leading this country=their birthright. And the unwashed hordes are eager to concur.
I just wish they’d stop calling this sorry sham a fucking democracy. Rename it a bloody kingdom, and be done with it.
That is all.