Benazir Bhutto @ MindSay 
Maybe if I put these thoughts in writing, I'll find a starting place for unravelling the swirling mess of information overload that defines my mind today...
*Delayed reaction: I am very sad about the assassination of Benazir Bhutto. It is not only the fact that she was a woman who came out of exile (self-imposed?) to try to make a difference in Pakistan , but that our world will never be civilized enough to talk over our differences and come to a compromise without bloodshed. I'm not talking politics here, and I'm not saying that Bhutto was wrong or right, but I'm lamenting human nature. The world needs deliverance from evil.
*People sometimes speak of their souls as if they are bargaining chips. I feel a paper coming on about this one, but let me just hint: to bargain with something that was a gift, when the thing is irreplaceable, is probably the utmost in reckless self-endangerment. It's also an illusion to think we can trade our souls for something else... kind of on the order of "there is no spoon" (a la Matrix).
That is all.
The picture in question is on the Sunday Parade magazine dated January 7, 2008. Now I'm not a big fan of Parade to begin with--it's mostly useless--but I would have at least said that it was better than the competing insert, U.S.A Weekend. U.S.A. Weekend is mostly good for lining bird cages; I would have said Parade was good for lining slightly higher-cless bird cages.
But now....
The picture is of Benazir Bhutto; the caption reads: "Is Benazir Bhutto America's best hope against al-Qaeda?" Inside there is an interview with Ms. Bhutto...and no mention anywhere that she was assassinated on December 27. She was buried before the last issue of Parade came out.
At best, tacky. At worst...well, real tacky.
I have this tendency to vent my emotions, every time some incident occurs that affects others on a global, national, or societal level, by means of writing down every ounce of my thoughts. Today I write about an event, actually a series of events – triggered by what was visibly a mere gun-shot, but swiftly evolving into a number of shots, a couple of bomb blasts, unnumbered casualties and riots activated by frustration – that occurred last evening. It left my country, not only with the loss of a lot of treasured lives but unleashed on us the frustration of thousands of people across the country who took to the streets proclaiming their anger for the assassination of the politician who they were supposedly “religiously devoted” to.
But what sort of way is this, to prove one’s love and dedication? Burning up cars and trucks, breaking shops and people’s faces, terrorizing others around you – it all symbolises a nation submerged so far deep into frustration that it would take nothing less than a supernatural force to drag it out before it drowns. And what we do within the boundaries of our lavishly decorated homes, while watching this on TV is shake our heads with disappointment at the conditions of our country. Curse the politicians, curse the people, curse the country, then have dinner and plop down on our beds for a good night’s sleep. Oh and then when we cannot find the excuse for the occurrence of the event – cannot find enough witnesses to blame it on – we blame it on Islamic extremism. Yes of course, our brother by religion Osama sitting in some god forsaken cave of Afghanistan – the Director of world wide terrorism – is always ready to take the blame! Some video or the other miraculously appears out of no where just in time to prove to the world that it has INDEED been Al-Qaeda that blew up some random truck in a random part of the world. It is this kind of a supernatural force – one that conjures up videos on the nick of time and knows EXACTLY how to manoeuvre the media – that our country needs to steer itself towards sanity.
We are a nation, numb – devoid of any feeling whatsoever towards the agonies constantly being inflicted on our society as Pakistanis and as Muslims. Every time an incident occurs that could be classified as miles apart from humanitarianism, our television channels are bombarded with the most retarded of songs and video clippings to commemorate the loss of whatever it is that has been lost. Television channel logos go black and white to represent the supposed grief our nation feels. Three days later, it is back to the same old half clad girls prancing on television to sell the most unnecessary of products and worthless TV shows that make our lives miserable rather than easy. If we were not so numb, such events would have easily triggered an unstoppable revolution that would have reached far and wide affecting us positively and leading this nation-gone-astray closer to sensibility. I am not saying that we live forever inundated by the tears of grief for the destruction around us, keeping aside everything else. Life has to be taken as it comes, but at the same time what is happening should NEVER stop affecting us. Things need to be done individually and collectively. It is exactly events like these that caused the Third Estate in France to rebel and bring about a revolution, discarding the monarchy, corruption and uneven distribution of wealth that plagued the country. Burning and breaking what belongs to our country and people is not what will lead to the revolution. It is intelligently using our strength as an unstoppable mob to bring down the selfish, power-thirsty individuals that are constantly struggling to force us into a hypnosis of helplessness and poverty of money and free-thinking.
For some reason my heart has been heavy. Maybe it is due to the ever prevalent way in which we as a people find joy in extinguishing a life we have no right to destroy. I closed my eyes and questioned if it is due to the constant and rising crimes at the hands of mothers against their children, women who for unknown reasons allow life to come through them but suffer with the unfound belief that by killing their own child they were actually saving them from harm.
As the tears fall I thought of a voice that refuses to allow my eyes to stay dry as his voice speaks life into dead souls. As I hear Dr. Martin Luther King I wondered allowed what the family and followers of Benazir Bhutto are feeling. In the midst of her assassination are her killers finding joy in their honorable work?
I open my eyes and pray that one day the words of this speech will become a reality for all people. A realization that the Jew and Arabic are both treated equally in their attempts to live their live. I pray for a new apple to fall from the tree that gives hope to people finding something powerful and majestic to fight for instead of the mirage of coins and paper we so easily chase.
I ask for the day that tears overflow from the eyes of mothers and fathers filled with joy, a joy so powerul and expectant simply because life moves forward instead of fearing the knock on the door that their child is no longer amoung them.
I often wonder if I might have the courage to hear his words during that time. I question the feeling of loss by his death by his followers. As anger and hate were not tools he lived by, what filled the hearts of all people fighting for the rights of people as a whole.
What tears the marchers must shed as they look down at the path they paved being leveled and forgotten by those it was paved for
FREE AT AST................. NOTHING IS FREE!
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