Lahore is a unique city, one which knows how to celebrate on-coming elections in style. The corner of numerous streets and the rounds of many chowks served host to political celebration where the Insafians and the N-Leaguers would have verbal face-offs, with raised flags and jovial spirits. Amidst them, my friends and I would think of our hometown Karachi, so glowing in lights and swords that face-offs could only be telephonic, qualified with no element of banter to them. Lahore then won my respect, in the old and the young that came out, the miniature bats which challenged the stuffed tigers, without blood and without slight. Post-election Lahore was another story and perhaps another city in time. There was anger and a sense of deprivation. The antics of Khawaja Saad Rafique (of the NA-125 fame) had the Insafians charged, who immediately organised sit-in protests at the signal off Lalik Jan Roundabout, only to be met with police batons and aerial fires from the na-maloom afraad (unknown people) breed aboriginal to Punjab. There was no laughter this time. Perhaps in some despondency of my own, I ended up at this particular chowk on the midnight of May 12, and that was just about the perfect time to stroll in. From the opposite road came the tiger motorcade (they carried an actual lion in a motor cage), pumped and fuelled with the spirit of victory. In reply, the Insafians joined hands into a human wall whilst the atmosphere stood strung on a breaking pitch of its own. They spat abuses at each other, gestured with ardour and those who were victorious enough to leer did leer on. The lion shifted with unease and I waited for the inevitable end to this faceoff; four different fights erupted as the crowds flew in every direction. I descried mob violence at its best as hands flew and camera crews filmed with lust…the motorcade sought an exit…at least 30 people besieged a black sedan (not sure what it was guilty of), which had to knock off a few people with dexterous acceleration before it could find a way out. The Insafians tried to pull their people back, claiming that this behaviour was not representative of them and neither would it do justice to their cause. But that did little to appease who were hurt by defeat or restrict those who had nothing to do with the bat or the tiger. Yes, free-floaters had a field day. Soon Abrar-ul-Haq and Aleema Khan were amongst us; the former looked so angry and determined that I could draw little parallel between the present him and the once mischievous singer who sang Punjabi ballads for quirky damsels. Truly, in the death of Preeto and Billo, the so-rigged elections and the lost seat of Narowal NA-117, Abrar finally became a politician. His nights had been spent collecting evidence and he laid square blame on the agencies (a word that I never understand) and the ‘sold’ polling agents. The crowd could only agree as they bemoaned the presence of Khan. I left for home unscathed, as the dharna (sit-in protest) continued in full swing. The bolt from the blue was to come later when a beaming Nawaz Sharif left Shaukat Khanam Memorial Hospital, enlightening of his patch up with Kaptaan and of the friendly match they were going to play, only two days after Vice Chairman Pakistan Tehreek-e-Insaf (PTI) Shah Mahmood Qureshi’s claim that PTI would serve as a strong opposition. One could only hope of diplomatic exaggeration on account of Mr Sharif but Khan’s follow-up video did not correct him. Mr Sharif was now party to the ‘Naya’ (new) Pakistan, the largest one I must say, and here I was risking my life at dharnas at the mercy of people who did not even know the difference between a lion and a tiger. Elections in Pakistan are won by beefy hoodlums outside the polling station, and with bribed agents inside. That is how it has always worked and that is how it will continue to do so until electronic voting is brought on board (nothing impracticable when NADRA already has digitalised finger imprints on record). But who else will agree, apart from Khan who had the apple snatched from his eye, and is now left with the flowers of Raiwind, to tranquilise his hurt? Flowers for national assembly seats? Now that is plain sad, and funny too. Khan is angry now and deservedly so; his last two years were spent on a back-breaking election campaign (literally too) while his opponents just worked on and for May 11; he brought the voters out and they got the votes; he bet on the honour of Justice Fakhruddin Ibrahim while the seasoned others bet on his men. Violent protests are up on the cards and even Jinnah of Direct Action Day (1946) would give a decisive nod. In true loss, PTI has at last realised that either everyone lives by the book or everyone lives by the hook. In this absolute dichotomy, any anomalies are born as and into failure. PTI will bring its change but the regular constitutional means would have to do away with: Khan has already issued his first threat of a potentially violent protest. Tsunami March, finally? It is not clear where Pakistan is headed now but it never was before either. For those who want change, remember: the consideration will always be measured in blood. Khan seems ready. The writer is studying at the Lahore University of Management Sciences and can be reached at k.alizubair@hotmail.com