“This stained light, this night-bitten dawn — This is not the dawn that we had yearned for, This is not the dawn for which we had set out, Hoping that in the sky’s wilderness We would reach the final destination of the stars. Surely, the night’s turgid sea will breathe its last On the inevitable shore. Surely, somewhere, the moorings of the heart’s agony Will come to rest.” — Faiz Ahmad Faiz: Translation by Daud Kamal I am at a loss for picking up a subject to write this week. There is so much that I may want to talk about, but so little by way of inspiration to do so. It is like your gaze fluttering along aisles and pathways looking for some place to stop. Whenever lost for ideas, I tend to take refuge in poetic reflections. And with who better than Faiz! Let this strength be the sword to cut out the inequities and injustices so rampant all around. Let the pain of Parachinar be as intense as the pain of Bahawalpur and let the stamp of faith not become a license to kill The hilarious and pitiable enactment of the post JIT-hearing dramas unfurling monotonously every time one or the other of the tediously pompous Sharif clan comes out after facing the probing questions is nauseating. The stage-managed acts are a sad reflection of the degenerate capacities of those who would happily suck out the last drop of blood of the emaciated beings they profess their devotion to. The feigned innocence hardly covers the frustration writ large on their faces, or the anger frothing at their mouths, telling a millions tales! In this vast labyrinth pock-marked with man’s infidelity to his associates, both his mentors and those who may be subservient to him, one is truly lost. One does not know where to look, what to believe and what to shun. Every lie is spoken with the finality of the gospel. Every false errand is projected as a noble step ordained for changing people’s destinies. Every gesture is a reflection of the gushing floods of prosperity going to transform the fates of the poor and the underprivileged, the ill-treated and the malnourished. It is just a knock away as the people face the spectre of electing the marauding thieves again. Away from the unceasing claims of innocence, there is a plethora of undeniable evidence that refuses to melt away. Through innumerable decades of misrule embedded with indoctrinations at the hands of that ultimate demonic dictator, General Ziaul Haq, the godfather and his attendant mafias have continued to plunder not only the wealth of the country, but also the spirit and resolve of its people. Looking frail, they seem to have lost faith not only in the individuals purporting to be the grandstand leaders, but in the very system that continues to throw up such criminals garbed as advocates of democracy. But, there is no shame. Instead, they have the audacity to ask what crime they have committed? They know the answer, but they would not give up on their project of loot and plunder. They want to continue exploiting the poor’s helplessness and take away even the last morsels that may be stored away for a difficult day, or to feed an uncontrollably wailing child. It is in these moments of pain that Faiz comes serenading his song of hope: “Dark was the evening as we set out, We kept moving till we could walk no more. But on our lips were songs, And in our hearts a candle, Flickering as a witness to your beauty.” — An Elegy for the Rosenbergs: Translation by Khalid Hasan But beauty which has kept millions captivated in its bosom may be fading, and hope which has kept them going in spite of the daunting odds may be receding because difficult are the days to live, and heartless the nights to endure. The cyclic enchantments that have been heaped on unsuspecting people through laborious harangues promising the dawn of a glorious era resplendent with bounteous showering for their frail bodies and frailer spirits is nowhere on the horizon. It is a bland sky that people are tired of surveying through their moist eyes, and through the eyes of their elders who have perished, and the eyes of their young ones who refuse to put their faith to wasteful consumption. At the crossroads, the hungry stomachs and empty hearts yearn for a candle to light up their paths. The promise of bounties has faded. There is dust of despondence piled on the lure of prosperous futures held out ad nauseam by the coterie of mafias of all hues and shades, of the dictatorial and democratic dispensations that have ruled the country by taking criminal turns. But, behold! There is a promise that still holds out: a promise that beckons to take the fight to the doorsteps of those who have denuded the poor of hope and hearth. This is the promise that Faiz repeatedly extols for transforming into an indomitable strength. This cascading strength should become the power to bare the marauders of the veneer of civility that they wear so guilefully and be shown as the vile creatures they really are. Let their wickedness be drowned in the nectar of people’s resoluteness and their deviousness be ironed out under the heat of their conviction. And let their feigned and sanctimonious righteousness be buried in the putrid heaps of their misdemeanours and calumnies. Let this strength be the sword to cut out the inequities and injustices so rampant all around. Let the pain of Parachinar be as intense as the pain of Bahawalpur and let the stamp of faith not become a license to kill. Let the shroud of discrimination be torn away and let no one be singled out on the basis of faith, caste, creed or colour. Let this strength proclaim that no one is beyond law. Let the courts rise above their doctrines of necessity and help Pakistan move into a trajectory to redemption. Let the state prevail, let the people be its guardians and let the institutions defend its polity and sanctity. That is the day Pakistan has waited for. That is the day which will be. So it is writ. The writer is a political and security strategist, and heads the Regional Peace Institute — an Islamabad-based think tank. Email: raoofhasan@hotmail.com. Twitter: @RaoofHasan Published in Daily Times, July 9th , 2017.