Do not loathe the beasts, as they are very simple and innocent in their methods of killing other animals. They do not take delight in chasing and tearing their prey into pieces by using novel methods of cruelty. Beasts have no comparison with the king of this earth — man — in killings, perpetrating atrocities, and inflicting untold sufferings on fellow beings. Even to use the phrase ‘bestial cruelty’ for man’s acts is an insult of the highest degree to the innocent beasts.
Fyodor Dostoevsky, a famous Russian novelist, presents this idea in his masterpiece, The Brothers Karamazov, when his character Ivan says: “People talk sometimes of bestial cruelty, but that’s a great injustice and insult to the beasts; a beast can never be so cruel as a man, so artistically cruel. The tiger only tears and gnaws, that’s all he can do. He would never think of nailing people by the ears, even if he were able to do it.”
Man’s ‘artistically cruel’ nature is exposing itself fully in our land of the pure nowadays. Not to speak of suicide bomb blasts, target killings and drone attacks, the incidents of Kharotabad, Saleem Shahzad and Karachi rangers’ killing are some classic examples of man’s ‘artistically cruel’ nature.
In primitive times, the feudal lords and rulers had absolute power over the lives of their subjects. They loved to have hundreds of hounds and nearly a hundred dog-boys — all mounted and in uniform. They relished playing hunting games. Sometimes they got bored with ‘chasing and killing animals’. To break the monotony of hunting games, they adopted a novel way. They started to punish a servant –a man, woman or a child — by forcing him to run in front of the hunting team. They used to set the whole pack of hounds on the servant. The hounds caught him, and tore him to pieces before his family’s eyes!
This is very artistic punishment, which is still being given to many helpless Pakistani people in the 21st century.
Imagine, no rather see, (the footage of) a dying Sarfaraz — the young unarmed boy who was shot down in Karachi by the custodians of security, the Rangers. A gangly young boy of about 20, average height, wheat complexion and fearful eyes, is being pushed by the Rangers. He is moving here and there while pleading and trying to stop the Rangers from shooting him. Instead of arresting him, a Rangers man shoots him in the arm and the leg.
He yells and falls on the ground. Within no time, his clothes are covered with blood. Collecting his powers, he is begging the armed paramilitary soldiers now surrounding him and looking at him with disgust to take him to a hospital: “Mujhe haspatal pohancha dai yaar; haspatal pohncha dai.” He is repeating these sentences while the Rangers are moving around him proudly. A dying man never speaks a lie. Sarfaraz is using the word yaar (buddy). He knows that these custodians of the security are not the agents of CIA, RAW and Mossad who are watching him die. He knows that these are the armed paramilitary soldiers of Pakistan, who take an oath to defend the country and its people. The Rangers are not listening to his heart-rending requests. They are moving around him in intoxication of their success of shooting an unarmed young boy.
Sarfaraz sits up and looks around him for help with painful eyes. He does not look towards heaven. There is no one to save him. Blood is streaming from his beautiful young body. His strength is draining. He stops screaming. He lies back quietly. He does not want to look towards heaven. The Rangers are walking around him with stern eyes and proud gait. Sarfaraz sits up again, as if to catch the last straw of hope. His eyes, filled with utmost pain and utter hopelessness, turn towards the mighty and proud custodians of security who are looking at him with loathing. Sarfaraz lies down, never to rise again. It seems Sarfaraz wants to avoid the hateful looks of the security men. He is soaked in a pool of blood. The Rangers personnel are trying their best to protect their shining boots from the blood of a young boy who is groaning while taking his last breath on the sacred soil of our pure land. His death is a classic example of man’s ‘artistically cruel’ nature. We have seen these types of brutal killings in Kharotabad and Sialkot.
Two brothers, Hafiz Mugheez Sajjad and Muneeb Sajjad, were mercilessly beaten to death by villagers in front of the police and a mass gathering in Sialkot in 2010. The boys were crying and requesting the security men to save them. But the security men did not pay any attention towards their heart-rending shrieks. The policemen enjoyed the lynching of two innocent boys by the mob and then guarded the procession parading the dead bodies in the city. There must be a sense of pride in the hearts of security men in this sorrowful play of death.
There is the Kharotabad incident, which shows that even foreigners are not safe from our security men in this country. This incident also sheds light on the avariciousness of a police officer whose act was caught on camera when he put the gold chain of the murdered pregnant woman in his pocket. After killing five innocent persons, including three women, this act of looting lends colour to man’s ‘artistically cruel’ nature that is showing itself fully in the security personnel’s acts of killing innocent people in Pakistan. Then there is the case of Saleem Shahzad, who was ruthlessly killed. He was tortured to death because he was telling the truth about the security forces in our society.
After seeing these gory footages on TV screens, the hearts of all Pakistanis are bleeding. They are burning with anger against the security forces. They want to see the perpetrators of these heinous crimes behind bars. They are craving for dispensation of justice in this unjust society. They are yearning for some miracle that would bring peace and order in this war-riddled country. They are angry against the incompetent and helpless democratic government. Their mood is melancholic. They are talking to each other about the prevailing environment of fear and highhandedness.
And, believe me, every adult Pakistani is seeing his death in his imagination. He is imagining how suicide bombs or security forces will kill him and how his dead body would be dragged in the bazaars and streets like a dog.
The writer is a staff member. He can be reached at [email protected]