Think about this: you are a small farmer and this year you had your lowest per acre yield. You solely rely on the forming to run your household. Shouldn’t you be worried? So what do you do? You wake up (very) early in the morning, bathe, get dressed, offer prayers, go for a walk, come back home, get fresh (again), have a glass of lassi, and go out (again), this time towards your dera. You ask your kaam waala to prepare huqqa for you. Meanwhile, akhbar wala hands you over the day’s paper. You open the paper, first with both of your hands and then you adjust yourself so you hold the nozzle of huqqa in one hand and in the other, the paper. You bring nozzle close to your lips, but you don’t inhale anything because something catches your attention: ‘hybrid forming is becoming popular in Pakistan.’ What is hybrid forming and why it’s becoming popular in Pakistan? How come I don’t know about this technology, you ponder? Eventually, you get hold of a student majoring in Biology. He tries to explain the proposition: “Chacha jee, it’s a new and developing thing. People use hybrid seeds. Hybrid is a seed, which is made up of two different seeds. ‘It’s like a Pakistani man getting married to a Chinese woman and the next generation will be multicultural and hybridised,’ he tried to explain. Chacha jee goes “you mean like….like…. God forbid. The end is near. Get out, I will not use this ‘bi-sexual’, ‘multi-ethnic’, ‘mixed-religious’ seed. Do you have any idea, what type of kids will grow up in my home? Taubah, taubah (you touch your earlobes with your thumbs, as your arms make a cross). I don’t need such profit. I am happy with the loss.” You are upset and furious. Boy tries to calm you down by handing you over a chilled glass of ‘rau’ (sugarcane juice). You drink it, in almost one go. He then begins, again, this time speaking with caution: “Chacha jee, hybrid means it will have qualities of two varieties. Means, it will produce crops more in quantity and high in quality. You will have your yield quadrupled, he emphasises. “Hain? Are you serious?” You’re shocked (again). But you need a proof, and that’s your right. The boy gives you an address of one of the commercial farms his relative owns. You go for a visit. The farm covers a vast area, workers are loading the harvested crop arranged in square-stacks on a trolley, as farm-owner gives them ‘un-necessary’, ‘un-wanted’ and perhaps ‘un-invited’ instructions. He then starts moving towards his office and asks you to follow him, with a wink. You do. He sits right in front of you on a king-size chair, with his belly bulging out of his body and moustache getting loose from his skin. “Baad-shaao”, he begins. “It is not a very easy thing, but not that difficult as well. You will have to work very hard, but not that hard. Get a license, import this seed, bribe two or more officers, and you’ll be fine. But not that fine because after harvesting, you might or you might not have any customers. People, you see, have no faith in ‘ha-brid’. They think it is not very healthy, they are right, but not that much. Look at me, he rubs his belly, I’ve been eating it for two years now. Bass, the first investment is a problem then it will be alright. 120 tons/acre. Imagine.” He stops as if he hadn’t spoken for years. You wonder how he can be so confusing, so irritating, so quiet and so fat at the same time. 120 tons/acre were the only words you liked from his mouth, and they keep echoing in your head. So you decide to give it a try. You go to the bank and withdraw your savings. Then, you head towards the market and buy enough hybrid seed for one acre. You’ve bought the seed for ‘only’ one acre, firstly because it will save you from ‘sarkari afsars’ hungry for bribes, as you’ll remain un-noticed. Secondly, you’re only just trying. Thirdly, you still don’t think that a ‘bi-sexual’ (even if it is a seed) will change your fortune. You sow it, according to the guidelines given to you by that yellow-pant wala boy and that ‘belly-ous’, oxymoron-state-of-mind farm owner. You’ve spent almost all of your savings and you want a miracle. Miracle does happen. Your acres with ‘uni-sexual’ seed, gives you 60 tons altogether. And, your ‘multi-ethnic’ acre, alone, gives you 96 tons. You’re joyous and at the same time, guilty for whatever words you used against this ‘incredible’, ‘invincible’, ‘multi-factorial’ golden seed. You go to the market to sell your crop. The broker says: “Lo jee, 1100rs/ton for ‘original’ and, umm, chal koi nai, you are my ‘wadda’ brother, 160rs/ton for hybrid.” For a moment, you can’t believe what you heard. The rate is too high, it won’t even cover your expenses, and you will have to take a loan for next year to sow your crop. You decide to talk to other brokers, you get different, strange, and even inappropriate, R-rated replies, some of the censored, GP-13 answers are: “No license, no trade”. (For a while you think, he is asking for your driving license.) “One acre, only, you must have to be Sharmila’s brother to trade with me.” (His condition is strange because you are a Punjabi, he should have named some Punjabi politician, for feasibility, at least.) “75rs/ton, full and final”. (You feel more insulted than being the brother of a Sindhi politician). So, you go back to your ‘nikka’ brother and hope to bargain. But before you start, he speaks: “Wadday bai jee, since you didn’t trust me, the rates have changed. 950rs/ton for the original, and 105rs/ton for the hybrid. Manzur ae te, maal krwau load (Should I start loading the crop)?” You open your mouth for saying (in fact requesting) something, but you don’t. In spite of this, you just nod. Next year, you take a loan. Buy ‘original’ seed, and cultivate it. Abusing the ‘bi-sexual’ one throughout the process and pray that you don’t have to be worried to read any other article from someone like me. The writer teaches at the Forman Christian College University. He can be contacted at: umarbhatti@fccollege.edu.pk