Your country, my country
SOME days back, a friend of mine sent me an interesting article written by a Pakistani college girl. I shall not reveal her name here. She wrote this after arrival in a foreign country, where she went to study at a university. But her heart was left on the soil of Pakistan. The brutality unleashed by the Talibans in Swat and adjacent townships motivated her to write the poignant tale that came from the heart. I reproduce below some paragraphs from her write-up for our readers.
She wrote: "Eight years ago I boarded a plane to the United States to come to college. I was 17. As I left, my father hugged me and told me to never come back because he believed that soon Pakistan would not be a country fit for me to live in. I hugged him goodbye and that day my father and I began our great debate about the fate of Pakistan. I came home twice a year. I refused to do an internship in the US; I worked every summer in Pakistan. I moved back when college ended. I started work in Pakistan. I worked at two jobs because there was so much to do and not enough time to do it in. I was inspired and energised. I was hopeful and optimistic."
Eight years later she was not thinking the same way. She was disillusioned by then. This time she wrote: "Today I am neither. And I have lost the debate with my father about the fate of Pakistan. Today, the elected representatives of the people turned Pakistan into Talibanistan. Today we handed over a part of the country to them. I wonder how much longer before we surrender it all.
"Today we legislated that a group of criminals would be in charge of governing and dispensing justice in a part of Pakistan according to their own obscurantist views. They have declared that the rulings of their courts will be supreme and no other court in the land can challenge them. They have also declared that their men that killed and maimed innocent civilians, waged war against the Pakistani army and blew up girls schools will be exempt from punishment under this law.
"How can I be expected to return to a country where women are beaten and flogged publicly, where my daughters will not be allowed to go to school, where my sisters will die of common diseases because male doctors cannot see them? How can I be expected to call that country home that denies me the rights given me by my Constitution and religion? I refuse to live in a country where women like me are forced to rot behind the four walls of their homes and not allowed to use their education to benefit the nation."
The young graduate did not hide her emotions. She further wrote: "When there is no hope, no optimism, no security, no justice, no education, no progress, no culture there is no Pakistan. Maybe it is because I am the grandchild of immigrants who was raised on stories of hope, patriotism and sacrifice that even in this misery I cannot forget that Pakistan was created to protect the lives, property, culture and future of the Muslims of the subcontinent. It was not established to be a safe haven for terrorists. We fought so that we could protect the culture of the Muslims of the subcontinent, not so that we could import the culture of Saudi Arabia."
The very confused and angry young woman concluded: "Maybe it's because I'm competitive and I don't want to lose the debate to my father, maybe I am afraid to lose the only home I have, or maybe because I love Pakistan too much to ever say goodbye. I hope we can remember the reasons why we made Pakistan, and I hope we can stand up to fight for them. I hope we can revive the spirit of national unity of 1947 and lock arms to battle the monster of the Taliban that threatens our existence. Talibanistan is an insult to my Pakistan. I want my country back."
I can understand the pain and anger of the young Pakistani woman who has graduated from some prestigious university in the US. If she is reading this article then I want to tell her, sister, I can understand your pain because I felt the same way when some alien men in uniform with blazing guns had invaded my Bangladesh and had tried to force their way of life, language, culture and rule on us. Like you, sister, I became homeless in my own country! I had to prove my identity every step of the way in my own land! I was persecuted and harangued every step of the way in my own country! Like you I cried: "I want my country back."
Sister, I wonder whether your parents or grandparents felt any anger at the brutality of the Pakistani soldiers and officers who were carrying out genocide in my Bangladesh in 1971. Just the way they must be feeling now at the Talibans who have occupied some parts of your land. So, like the way we the Bangalees did in 1971, you have to rise together and take up arms to drive out the occupiers for good.
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