Daily Times

Lahore, Pakistan is one of the most wondrous places you can visit, I dare say, but one of the most wonderful, I dare not. Like many great cities, this one is filled with all types, a cosmopolitan of thoughts and dreams; over fifteen million unique ideas and perspectives – and yet, it all falls into a predictable despondency. This writer who steals your time, dear reader, has recently returned from abroad, and as I find myself walking through air filled exhaust fumes and stepping on leaves brown from dust instead of autumn, the ever-present gloom strikes anew.

Why, just the other day, as I walked with a friend through Packages Mall, I let my eyes wander to everyone around me, as everyone around me did the same. Neither a look of liveliness, nor a face of favour would you find. How curious that all these people, of enough affluence and standing to be present within a high-end mall, seem not to be able to walk with smile or content. They’ve achieved enough success to afford this trip, to afford the time and the car(eem?) and the ability to walk the decorated halls, explore the fancy stores, spoil themselves and others with gifts and food. Yet have our burdens and troubles, the mere tedium of the day-to-day, become so entangled in our flesh that we cannot relieve our expressions of their stress when we seek to enjoy ourselves?

As that question arises, the next one to follow is what exists in our daily lives to so drain us; our food is often cooked by a chef or maid, who may often not prepare it to our unspoken, unaware wants and serve as a vessel for blame, our houses and cars are cleaned by the underpaid and unmotivated, doing as well as can be expected of them, but terribly enough for us to be upset and lash out. The first problem, it seems, is having all these helpers and servants who relieve our responsibilities as much as they do them short of our expectations. We are all human, and all have these nuances to our identities that often go silent and implicit. One can cater to oneself wonderfully, and forgive oneself quickly, yet we choose to become dullards without whimsy or wit when shackled by those in service to us, creating the source of displeasure and outlets of otherwise unnecessary anger with striking efficacy (at an actual, monetary cost, of course).

And why do we have these servants? Well, because our possessions are much and large, so who’ll do the ironing and the cleaning and the cooking and the washing and the drying and the inventing of sliced bread? And, of course, we have all these things, particularly these large houses, as there’s status and acclaim to them for all the relatives and visitors. So-and-so and moved to a two kanal house and bought a new Honda. Pakistanis, some of the most hardworking people in the world, in one of the poorest countries in the worlds, sure seem to spend a lot of money on show and tell.

We could, of course, realise that the average family, four to six people, doesn’t need a five bedroom, five-and-a-half bathroom, 11 thousand square foot house. My bathtub is bigger than some people’s beds, and I prefer showering. There’s something untoward about this picture, isn’t there?

The second thing I noticed from my glass perch is how much we adore complaining. Misery loves company, but even he thinks we ought to see some other people. The maid didn’t do this right, this auntie said this and that, the schools are making them do this, the people are too liberal or too extremist or too complex or too simple, the government is corrupt, and on and on and on. We point out everything wrong with our lives, fine tooth comb each defect or shortcoming, and chide the universe for a lack of change. With the infinite hope of youth, I wonder, would rechecking our lifestyles improve them? Would we be better off with smaller, more manageable homes, removing the need for ‘the help’, with the addition of daily accomplishment by completing our own chores –routine as they might be – instead of giving them to another who cares only as much as they’re handed blue notes? Shall we survive if our sons learned to clean and cook after themselves, and if our daughters were not forced so heavily into the same? And that money we might save, certainly better uses could be found. Why, what if we bought things we can own and keep with self and pride, something which holds an intrinsic value for the payer, instead of something meant to be displayed to the people?

Should we allow ourselves more simplicity, and dare ourselves to be more individual, instead of following the institutionalising list of norms, success and ‘happiness’, could our faces be a little more smiling as we walk the filled hallways?

The author can be found at www.akifrashid.wordpress.com