The case of Shafqat Hussain has been in the lime light for many days now; much has been written about the circumstances surrounding it. If we browse through social media regarding this issue, conflicting opinions are found, ranging from the very typical “propaganda by foreign funded NGOs” to the more realistic “Shafqat killed a child so he should be hanged too” and many in between. But most people seem to be confused about how the juvenile justice system in Pakistan works. Things are virtually the same on electronic media; some are calling for a retrial on the plea of juvenility over the allegedly forced confession through torture by the police, while others are pointing out how these pleas might not be taken before the trail court or the high court or the Supreme Court. Shafqat has also exhausted the appeal for mercy, seeking pardon, which only the president of Pakistan can grant under his constitutional powers available under Article 45 of the Constitution of Pakistan 1973. Therefore, this takes us to a whole new level of legal discussion. Can Shafqat take the plea of juvenility now? Does the Apex Court have the power to review the case after so many years? Can death penalty be halted at this late stage? All of these are pressing questions. But they require a long discussion, which is not the current point of my blog. The point of my piece is to discuss the obvious fallacies in the way we are dealing with this issue – we are focusing on one particular incident and not looking at the larger legal framework involved around the juvenile justice system in Pakistan. I have been working on juvenile justice since 2007. With other colleagues of mine, we provided legal aid to more than 450 juveniles in more than 700 cases in courts of Lahore, Karachi and Quetta. I am not an expert but I do have some knowledge and understanding behind the concept of the juvenile justice Pakistan and the way it has developed over the last few decades around the world. For me, it is not a question of whether Shafqat Hussain was a juvenile at the time of committing the offence or not. The real question for me is: Can Shafqat, assuming he was a juvenile, be given the death sentence under the Pakistani law? And the answer to this important but unasked question is, sadly, yes. I know many will point my attention to section 12, subsection ‘a’, of the Juvenile Justice System Ordinance 2000 (JJSO) which states that a child cannot be given the death sentence, under JJSO section 2, subsection ‘b’, stating that a child is a person who has not attained the age of 18 years. Then am I not contradicting myself by saying yes to the question I asked earlier, yet accepting that a person below the age of 18 cannot be given the death sentence? No, I am not. And let me clarify. In 2012, the JJSO was amended to empower the ATC to work as juvenile courts for children being charged under the Anti-Terrorism Act 1997. Therefore, there are two scenarios to this case – the situation before the 2012 amendment and the situation after it. Firstly, with regards to the situation before the 2012 amendment, in my defence I give you section 14 of the JJSO, which says that this law is in addition to and not in derogation of any other law of Pakistan. This means that the JJSO plays a secondary role when the child is being tried under the anti-terrorism court (ATC) governed by the Anti-Terrorism Act 1997, as separate juvenile courts were not established at the time of Shafqat’s trial. Under the Anti-Terrorism Act, the ATC can give the death penalty to any person regardless of their age – which is what happened in Shafqat’s case. This means that there is no irregularity or illegality committed by the trial court even if Shafqat was a juvenile at the time the offence was committed. As for the situation after the 2012 amendment, if for some reason the case is sent back to the trial court for retrial, it will go back to the same ATC which can give the same death sentence to Shafqat again. So what is the solution then? The relaxation for juveniles on the basis of age is a settled principle all over the world and we can adopt the same laws and procedure to ensure the protection of children in conflict with law. The discussion should not limit itself to the current case only. I believe that we are making a wrong argument. The whole juvenile justice system of Pakistan needs to change. The existing JJSO is neither comprehensive nor sufficient. We have to fulfil our commitments to the United Nation Convention on the Rights of Children (UNCRC). As per article 37 of UNCRC, no child should be given the capital punishment. JJSO needs to over-ride all other laws in the country while dealing with cases of children in conflict with law. This can only be ensured by establishing separate juvenile courts as mentioned in section 4 of the JJSO. For juvenile cases the determination of age should be the first concern of the court, rather than deciding the age of the juvenile when the matter is raised by the defence. Hopefully, the civil society of our country will make efforts in the right direction so that no other child is forced to face what Shafqat has been going through over the past so many years.

What is the first thing that comes to your mind when you hear the word LUMS?  Vulgarity, a bunch of pampered kids smoking cigarettes, elite class, narcissists, stuck-up teens, the high fee, the beautiful campus, its state of the art business school, a classic display of modernism? Probably an amalgamation of everything mentioned above. While some of these things are true and some highly exaggerated, a few are outright false. These misconstrued images of LUMS have been imprinted in our minds and I do not see many people questioning them. So I have decided to address these stereotypes about LUMS that have long occupied our minds and have tried my best to jot down explanations as to why they are wrong.

1)  “Only the elite class goes to LUMS”

2)  “LUMS has a very kharab mahol” (bad environment)

3)  “LUMS only has one class – extremists”

4)  “A LUMS graduate is a job magnet”

“LUMS se parh ker bhi job nahi mili?” (You graduated from LUMS and you still don’t have a job?)

5)   “LUMinites hate IBAians”

Every third person living in Karachi has a story to tell – mostly about how their cell phone or wallet was snatched when they were mugged at gunpoint. I am one of those lucky people, thank God, who has never been mugged or assaulted. But had I not made a narrow escape during last week’s incident, I would definitely not have been able to maintain this claim today. We were commuting to office early in the morning when we noticed two motorbikes following us. The passengers on these bikes had their hands in their pockets. As we approached a speed-breaker, the van slowed down and we heard them yelling at each other to stop the van from the front. The way it was all being done, I could have sworn they had been observing us for days. They knew that the van would stop to at a nearby street to pick up a colleague. To ambush us, they turned into a street before the one we were going to take, but our van driver had caught on to their plan and decided not to turn into that lane. Our driver made a quick decision, changed the transit and saved us. The area I am talking about is considered one of the posh areas of Gulshan-e-Iqbal, as it is home to luxurious bungalows and some high-profile personalities, but the almost-empty streets and nearby slums make it an easy point of target. Residents of the vicinity installed barriers on their own expense as a self-help measure, which have now been removed in wake of the ongoing barriers hatao muhim (barrier removal campaign) by the rangers, leaving the locals at the mercy of muggers and dacoits. DG Pakistan Rangers (Sindh), Major General Bilal Akbar on March 20, 2015 gave a 72-hour ultimatum to citizens to remove illegal barricades as they restrict free movement for citizens, law enforcement personnel and emergency workers. Despite rising security concerns, many dwellers removed their barriers voluntarily while more than 125 were removed by the rangers. The issue of removing these barricades raises some important questions: Why did the residents feel the need to install barriers in the first place? The city situation is not as under control as portrayed by law enforcement agencies. According to a CPLC report, approximately 33,057 cell phones were snatched and stolen from Karachi alone, during October 2013 – September 2014, and most incidents occurred in the area of Gulshan-e-Iqbal. Another report by Overseas Security Advisory Council (OSAC) termed 2013 the deadliest year for Karachi, following the killings of 2,715 civilians and 191 police and rangers’ officials, 108 kidnappings, 519 cases of extortion, 3,082 cases of robbery, 4,068 vehicle thefts, 22,284 motorcycle thefts and 10,501 cell phone thefts. These figures are recorded by the Sindh police and rangers while many other crimes remain unreported. With such rising crime rates and poor law and order situation, where a police officer laughs in your face if try to lodge an FIR of a low-end cell phone theft, what would the rangers expect from citizens to do if not to take self-security measures? Do all barriers create hurdles? Many of the barriers placed in Karachi’s Jamshed Town, Gulshan-e-Iqbal Town, North Nazimabad Town and Korangi Town by the public are boom barriers which control the vehicular access from entrance and exit points. These barriers, unlike those installed near Nine-zero or Bilawal House, are not made of concrete that hinder free movement or create difficulty in case of emergencies. They can be operated manually to allow authorised vehicles such as emergency services and buses to take advantage of the shorter and more direct route. Some of the town administrations even have security guards or chowkidaars to operate these barriers round the clock. Concrete barriers or those that are left unattended should be removed but does it make sense to remove those that are not doing any harm? Are authorities practicing what they are preaching? We live in a country where rules, regulations, bans, orders and restrictions are only applicable to one segment – the masses; everyone else is above the law. Sindh Special Home Secretary Collin Kamran Dost has emphasised that except for barriers installed in the proximity of foreign missions, all others are illegal and the town administration cannot allow residents to place obstructions. He forgot to mention about the fate of barriers erected in front of Rangers Headquarters at Dr Ziauddin Ahmed Road, which causes traffic jams and creates trouble for the public. Is the ultimatum issued by DG Rangers not applicable to himself? Which places should be exempted? Removal of barriers has troubled religious and educational institutions, which are under severe threat of being blown up by banned outfits. While other precautionary steps were taken by school administrations after the APS massacre, barriers were also installed at some places to ensure safety. Despite this, at least three schools have come under hand grenade attacks in Karachi and several religious places (including mosques, imambargahs and churches) are bombed throughout the country since the beginning of the year. Instead of exempting those who already have a heavy contingent of police and personal guards to protect themselves, high-risk locations such as schools, media houses and places of worship should be exempted from this order. Who will be responsible for the security then? Are the government and law enforcement agencies providing any alternative to meet the security challenges and concerns of people? If not, who will be held liable for the loss/ theft of residents’ properties, belongings and lives? While removing the obstacles from the metropolis, authorities should also provide effective solutions to help insecure citizens. I too demand the complete removal of obstructions from public places but does anyone dare to take our responsibility and guarantee our security?

They walked quietly together, letting the traffic build conversation for them. The streetlights flooded the roads but they still found it difficult to see. The cars zoomed past them without a care in the world. The tall apartments in the surroundings made them feel miniature, like two toys in a room filled with giant furniture. Beneath these towering buildings were shops lined up together, from wall to wall. People went in and came out from these shops like ants. Life unfolded around these two, as they walked silently on the side of the road. Their uniforms faded and their ties loose; their backpacks hung over their shoulders like prison shackles. They walked with great pride and equal exhaustion. The more that life surrounded them, the more tired they seemed to be. Two young boys were already fed up with what life had bid for them.

“Did you get any offers yet?” asked Faizy.

“Yeah I have actually. You?” Ahmed looked at Faizy with great interest.

“Ones you don’t count. Locals, sure. I haven’t heard from the internationals yet.”

“Where’d you get in?” “Locally or internationally?” Ahmed questioned while Faizy’s eyes widened. “You got into the international ones?” “Yeah. Toronto and Windsor, both in Canada.”

“Ahmed, that’s great yaar! University of Toronto? That’s the dream man, that’s the dream!”

“Yeah, that’s pretty cool. Too bad I’m not going.”

“Why aren’t you going?” inquired Faizy, trying to follow Ahmed along as he began skipping to catch up. “We can’t afford it. Baji’s wedding is coming up in a year. I know for a fact that my parents will not be able to pay my tuition fees and afford her wedding all at the same time.”

“I know if I tell Papa and Mama about my acceptance, they’ll make it happen. But I know how it’s going to be.” “How is it going to be?” “Papa is going to ask his friends for a loan. They’ll give it to him. Papa will retire this year and won’t be able to pay it back. Either he’ll be forced into selling the house, or he’ll have to work five more years until I graduate, get a job and am able to pay my dad’s friends back.”

“Do I want that Faizy? I’m not that selfish. I know my parents will make it happen. But I don’t want them to.”

“It’s cool,” Faizy managed to say.

“The loneliest moment in someone’s life is when they are watching their whole world fall apart and all they can do is stare blankly.”

“I didn’t say it, F Scott Fitzgerald did.”

“C’mon old sport, it’s time we walk down this mammoth bridge. It’s not safe to be up here at this time,” Ahmed said while trying to work out the best impression of Jay Gatsby he could do.

“Empty your pockets, boys,” said the driver of the motorcycle.

“It’s the only phone I have man! Please let me go this time. You already took my friend’s phone.”

“I said empty your pockets fool, before I blow your brains out!”

“Fine, okay,” Ahmed said as he reached for his phone in his pocket.

“Run!” screamed Ahmed as he directed Faizy.

“Talk to me Ahmed,” he said repeatedly.  “I won’t let you leave me like this. Damn it, you fool! Why did you do that?”

NA-246 was left vacant when Nabeel Gabol, under mysterious circumstances, stepped down and separated his ways from the Muttahida Qaumi Movement (MQM). The move, back then, was dubbed as a strategic one by the once blue-eyed boy of Pakistan Peoples Party, in order to escape the much-predicted military crackdown on MQM. And while the MQM Rabita Committee kept convincing the media about their close ties with Mr Gabol, he issued statements otherwise. The NA-246 constituency comprises of areas in Karachi that have been the epicentre of political power for more than two decades now. This constituency has a number of heavily populated concentrations of Mohajirs (Urdu-speakers) who, from 1953 onwards, started converging to these neighbourhoods. Most of the population within this constituency belongs to the middle and lower-middle income groups who also boast of the highest literacy rate in Karachi, besides being politically aware and active contributors to the electoral process. Ever since 1988, right after its inception, MQM conveniently won each and every election held in this constituency and this trend actually began during the 1987 local-bodies election in Karachi. Even though the Urdu-speaking community heavily dominates NA-246, there are some Pukhtun and Sindhi pockets as well. The candidates Kanwar Naveed Jameel (MQM): During his tenure as the mayor of Hyderabad, he performed exceptionally well. He has also served as a legislator both in the provincial and national assemblies. Imran Ismail (PTI): He is not very well known to the residents of Karachi. He originally belongs to the business community and his claim to fame is his loyalty towards Imran Khan and the fact that he is amongst the founding members of Pakistan Tehreek-e-Insaf. Rashid Naseem (JI): He is a non-controversial figure who is more famous for his lectures on the Holy Quran and Sunnah than for his politics. He was also one of the candidates in the general elections of May 11, 2013 from the same constituency and has been serving the people in different capacities. Jamaat-e-Islami has served the people of Karachi with dedication and commitment during the mayor-ship of Naimatullah Khan, therefore JI is kept in high regards in some of Karachi’s circles. PTI’s bold entry After the raid on 90, the arrests of party workers and the chain of events that followed, MQM went on the back foot and took a plethora of media vitriol head-on. During these testing times, the Rabita Committee tried to keep things in order despite revelations and confessions by some former and current party workers that opened up a new Pandora box altogether for them. PTI was fast to respond by announcing its candidate, Ismail, as a contestant in the by-elections, hoping that this vacuum will be filled with the help of their ever growing popularity in the metropolis. To me, this seemed more like a calculated move with the help of the “establishment” in order to dent the popularity of the MQM in its own stronghold. PTI’s plan seems more like giving a tough competition – just to prove a point – rather than a clean sweeping the elections. Where did PTI go wrong? Ismail committed the biggest blunder of his political career when he started roaming around in a luxury vehicle as part of his election campaign, in an area where a majority of the voters use public transport or two wheelers to commute to work and back home. That move ended up in bad taste and all the rage and fury was unleashed on Ismail’s land cruiser followed by an early departure by the candidate. PTI should have done its homework before sending in its candidate for public support. The residents of the NA-246 constituency have, habitually, campaigned only for someone they are familiar with and their vote has always gone to a political party that keeps its doors open to its voters. PTI has brought forward a candidate who belongs to the upper crust of society for a constituency that consists of middle and lower-middle class voters. This will create a great deal of disparity which may not go in favour of the party. With no connection with the general public of NA-246 and a negligible street campaigning up till now, PTI still claims to create an upset on election day. That is yet to be witnessed. The reason behind MQM’s popularity In its majority areas, MQM has been serving the people of the constituency since the last two decades. Their popularity graph sky-rocketed during the time of their mayor-ship and Mustafa Kamal’s hard work gave a new dimension to public service. The MPAs and MNAs of the MQM are readily available to listen to the complaints of their voters at the party headquarters almost on daily basis, which actually creates that required bond between the public and its representative. MQM is therefore more comfortable and confident about winning on this seat with a wide margin. PTI’s edge PTI has been successfully turning the tide in its favour since day one. Imran Khan’s charisma and the element of “change” have given PTI a competitive edge. The last elections gave MQM a reality-check, as they had not anticipated such massive voters’ turnout in favour of PTI and were caught off-guard on many fronts. The recent revelations by Gabol have given another twist to the entire polls-rigging story – that made rounds during the PTI dharna in Islamabad – and his statements have not only given some strength to PTI’s electoral campaign but paved way for the veteran Baloch politician to grab a position in the PTI hierarchy, which seems highly possible. Another possibility is a last minute alliance with JI (which enjoys a considerable following in NA-246); this can give an instant boost to PTI’s election campaign. Recipe for success? NA-246 comprises of educated and politically aware voters who can’t be lured into voting for a specific group just on the basis of general perception or popularity. The people of this constituency demand performance on ground. With such a deep-rooted connection between the voters of NA-246 and MQM, it won’t be easy for PTI to change minds and make a clean sweep. They will have to put forward an agenda that can click with the general masses. Their claim to cleanse Karachi of terror and fear won’t necessarily earn them any sizable votes but some out-of-the-box thinking and creation of a strong bond with the residents might tilt the result in their favour.

Today is The Express Tribune’s five year anniversary and while it is a jubilant moment for the whole publication, it is one that is also tinged with reflection.  The publication started as the first Pakistani newspaper which, partnered with the International Herald Tribune initially and the International New York Times now, offered a mix of domestic and global news to the masses. It provided a different perspective by allowing blogs from ordinary individuals on its website, opening up a whole different field of “online” or “citizen” journalism. Additionally, Express Tribune has greatly utilised social media like Twitter and Facebook to spread the news and this has mushroomed its influence in Pakistan, with other English language newspapers now following suit. The publication is a true trendsetter. Although The Express Tribune has revolutionised the way news is dispatched, it has been a difficult road and one that has been hampered with sadness. Pakistan is one of the most dangerous countries in the world in which to practice journalism due to prolific attacks on media personnel and The Express Tribune is no stranger to courting controversy. On January 14, 2014, the media group’s van was ambushed resulting in the death of three of its workers – driver Khalid, technician Waqas and security guard Ashraf. Prior to this attack, The Express Tribune office in Karachi was targeted twice, in August 2013 and then again in December 2013. Gunfire and bombs were thrown at their offices in an attempt to sabotage operations. Although no fatalities were reported, a security guard was injured in the first attack and an aura of fear developed. However, despite working under such threats, the newspaper has thrived and will continue to stand tall in the face of repression, terrorism and censure. My first interaction with The Express Tribune Blogs came in October 2013 when I wrote about the difficulty of travelling if you are a Pakistani and how airlines behave with such blatant discrimination towards Pakistanis. This was received with praise by the staff at The Express Tribune and it ignited a fruitful relationship with the newspaper, which continues to this very day. I now have a resourceful avenue to air my thoughts on any particular point of interest. Some of my blogs are controversial, like the one I wrote on “Why do Pakistani men have a roving eye?” to more thought provoking pieces, like my blog on “10 situations which highlight why educating women is vital in Pakistan”. No matter how people opine, the point of such blogs is to ignite a debate and make us stretch the limits of our thinking beyond societal constraints. No other publication encourages such freedom to think like The Express Tribune and in a conservative society like Pakistan such revolutionary thinking is desperately needed to break the chains of unquestioned acceptance of the status quo. My impression of The Express Tribune will always be positive and I am very impressed with the professionalism the staff has shown in their dealings with me. I wish the newspaper and its hard working staff the very best and, here’s to another five years of great stories, suspense and a whole lot of drama! Congratulations to The Express Tribune! The whole team should be very proud of itself.

“The biggest struggles we face exist within ourselves.” 

“It must be the bus,” she thought.

“Ali kahan hai? Subha mulaqat nahin huwi meri us say,” he said. (Where’s Ali? I didn’t get to meet him today) “Haan, woh puri raat bahar tha. Usko promotion mil gayi hai centre mei. He now manages 20 other employees in the call centre. Toh, aaj ke din he had to stay late. Aap chale jaate hain jaldi. Woh wapis hi nau bajay aaya tha. Aaj university bhi nai gaya. Abhi tuition parhanay gaya huwa hai” she replied. (He was out the whole night. He got promoted at work; hence, he now manages 20 other employees at the call centre. You leave early, because of which you missed him. He returned at nine in the morning. He didn’t even go to his university today. He’s out to give tuitions right now.) “University se yaad aaya, maine uski fees pay kardi hai. Subha bus choot gayei thi, toh mujhe rickshaw laina parha. Bank kareeb hi tha, toh mai wahin utar gaya tha. Account mei ab Rs980 parhe hain. Ajeeb baat hai, 65 saal ke hogaye aur thodi si bhi saving na hosaki.”  (University reminds me; I managed to pay his fees. I missed the bus in the morning, so I had to settle for a rickshaw. The bank was nearby, so I got off at the branch. The account now has Rs980. It is perplexing that, even at 65-years of age, we don’t have any savings.)

“Aap pareshan na hoyein. Humaari kamaayi Ali hai. Yeh uska last semester hai. Yeh aapki mehnat ki wajah se hua hai sirf. Kal ko humara baita aik bara admi bannay ga. Karachi ki subse barhi university se parha hai usne. Ali hi humaari saving hai. Aaj hum sub ke saamne fakhr se kharhe hosakte hain. Khud sochein. Aap itni mehnat kiske liye karte hain? Humne itni mushkil kiske liye uthaayi hai? Khuda ka shukar hai ke woh samajhta bhi hai yeh sub. Warna aaj kal ke bachay toh...” (You must not worry. Ali is our wealth. This is his last semester and we have made it this far because of your hard work. In future, he will be a successful man. He studies in one of the most prestigious universities in Karachi. He is far better than any savings account. We can stand with our head held high. Think about it, for whom did you work so hard? For whom did we bear such hardships? Thank God that he understands our struggles, otherwise you know how children are today.) “Phir bhi. Khair, yeh kya baat hai karne wali. Yeh batao halaat kaise hain?” (Anyway, why are we pondering over bygones? Tell me, how’s the condition in the city?) “Karachi hai. TV pe dekhte hain,” she replied. (It’s Karachi. Lets watch the TV)

“Shukar hai. Sheher mei sukoon hai. Ali ne kia kaha tha kab tak wapis aayega?” he asked, his eyes focused on the screen. (Thank God, the city is peaceful. Did Ali give any time for his return?) “Aap ko pata hai uska tuition kaafi dur hai. Aajaye ga, pareshan na hoyein,” she replied. (You know his tuition is quite far. He’ll be back, don’t you worry).

“Hello?” “Jee aap ka baita Ali hai?”  (Is Ali your son?)

“Jee bilkul. Kiya hua?”  (Yes. What happened?)

“Uncle aap Abbasi Shaheed Hospital aasakte hain? Aap kay baite ko goli laggai hai.” (Can you come to Abbasi Shaheed Hospital? Your son has been shot.) 

“Chalo mere saath.”  (Come with me.)

“Breaking news: We are hearing reports of a firing in Nazimabad. One casualty has been reported so far. The victim is a 24-year-old university student whose identity has not been confirmed as yet. Eyewitness accounts state that he was caught in a shootout between two rival gangs. We will provide you with more updates as and when we receive them.”

“My son was not affiliated with any political party. He had no personal enmities that we knew of. He was everything I had. These hands raised him with love and care. I taught him how to walk and talk. I saw him grow before my eyes. He was the light of my eyes. I have tried my hand at writing a diary, and I have failed miserably. Today marks his third death anniversary. This is a father’s tribute to his slain son. This is the voice of a broken man. We have developed a close bond with pain. Every day, it reminds us that we are still alive. It tells us that we still feel. Ali is, and will always be my hero. He was the realisation of my dreams. He was a cherished son, a loving man and a devoted student. He was a man with goodness in his heart. My son was wronged. I do not seek vengeance. I do not seek closure. Three-years-ago, I lost everything I had. While I pray that nobody gets to feel what I feel every day, I know that is not possible. How does a father explain what his son meant to him? Man has not created a language powerful enough to express such emotions. I do not know what he did wrong. I do not know our fault. All I know is that somewhere in the heavens above, angels cried the day my child was murdered.”

The non-issuance of visas to India continues to irk thousands of Pakistani Americans as the former remains hell bent to grind an axe with Pakistanis, regardless of borders or their new nationalities. At the moment, there are an estimated 500,000 Pakistani Americans in the US and the rate of their continually burgeoning numbers makes them the second fastest growing group of Asian immigrants in the US. According to the Pew Research Centre, the entire population of Asian Americans, which includes Pakistanis, is among those in the highest income bracket as well as the best educated in the country. However, despite all the good check marks Pakistanis have in front of their names and despite their coveted blue passports, India continues to trivialise their backgrounds, denying them visit visas to its esteemed land only because they are expats born in Pakistan. It is absurd for India to assume that no Pakistani would ever want to visit India at some point in their lives. Everyone still has relatives, ancestral homes, ties, backgrounds, and memories of childhood visits to the country even though they themselves were born in Pakistan. The migration that occurred with the division of the country in 1947 was the greatest mass human migration in the history of mankind. Do the Indian authorities seriously assume that simply on account of being born in Karachi or Lahore, a man’s ties to his entire history could be severed and his whole slate of reverence for the land of his forefathers could be wiped clean? Even if one removes the emotionality from the picture, the whole situation reeks of brazen, glaring discrimination, not only on the part of India, but also the US authorities by reason of being perpetrated against as US citizens. Why do these people want to go there? I am pretty sure it is not with the intent to bomb Mysore or raze the Taj Mahal to the ground. The majority only wishes to visit family, gaze at the homes of which they have heard stories of all their lives, visit the monuments built by the Mughal rulers and reflect, sadly, at the preserved relics in the museums which tell the tale of one of the greatest empires in human history. The fact of the matter is that the soil of India has the roots of the millions of Pakistanis who immigrated to the new country in 1947. As per the rules on the Indian visa website, the visa processing time for US citizens born in the US is one to three days, whereas the time for people of Pakistani origin, it is six weeks. Even this time requirement is just a scam; visas are not issued at all even after the person has waited for six weeks. According to the US Code Title 42, Chapter 21 of civil rights,

“Discrimination against any person ‘based on age, disability, gender, race, national origin and religion (among other things) in a number of settings—including education, employment, access to businesses and buildings, federal services and more’ is prohibited.”

“Daarhion ne phir marwa diya hai” (The beards [bearded men] have gotten us into trouble again)

“Nahi hai na-umeed Iqbal apni kisht-e-weeraan se Zara naam ho tau ye matti bari zarkhez hai saaqi” (But of his barren acres Iqbal shall not despair, A little rain and harvests will blossom, O Winebearer!)

Ever since the last two devastating church attacks in Peshawar and Lahore, the pressing issue of minority rights has received increased attention. The government’s futile attempts to provide a safe haven for the state’s minorities have been all in vain. In the wake of this pursuit, yet another effort is being carried out to assure that the minorities are considered equal inhabitants of this country. A 140-feet tall cross is being constructed in one of Karachi’s oldest Christian cemeteries, which is also claimed to be the largest across Asia. Financed by the Henry Gill family, the construction work is supervised by Parvez Henry Gill himself. The cross is expected to be completed in the next three months under the supervision of the architect Musa Gill.

“The image of Pakistan, as far as minorities are concerned, is really tarnished. We are trying to tell the world that there are good people here too,” says Parvez. “We are trying to tell the world that there are good people here too.”

Ali* was on bed 16. He was 10-months-old and critically sick. According to his mother, Ali had been quite normal when he was taken to a neighbour’s house by the neighbour’s daughter a few days ago. This was not the first time the neighbour’s child had carried Ali to her house to play with him. However, what was different this time around was that the child brought Ali back comparatively earlier after taking him, presumably because he was fussy. That, in itself, could have been a red flag for the parents to suspect something. The parents, unfortunately, let hours pass assuming that Ali was just colicky. When Ali went from being fussy to lethargic, his parents panicked and rushed him to a nearby clinic. The facility was far from optimal to take care of the infant, given his critical condition, hence the parents decided to bring Ali to the emergency room (ER). Ali was rushed directly to ‘resus’ (resuscitation or shock room). He was gasping periodically, and there was hardly any movement in his body or his eyes, which were ominous signs. Ali was immediately intubated and moved to the CT-scanner, where the results revealed massive bleeding in his brain and infarcted (dead) brain tissue. Could the bleeding in the brain and subsequent coma be explained by trauma of some kind? Yes, it could. Could it have been an accident? Yes. But what was more concerning was the trauma inflicted on Ali, although no obvious signs of bruising or swelling were evident on his body or scalp. My years of practice in the paediatric ER have made me realise that as a child advocate, I must automatically assume violence has been inflicted on the child, especially in situations where brain imaging reveals bleeding. There might not have been any way to prove that Ali had been abused, but as his ER physician, my index of suspicion remained high. What concerned me more when I questioned Ali’s parents was that in between the 18 hours, they had still not interrogated their neighbour’s child regarding what exactly had transpired. Over the course of my ER shift, I observed Ali very closely. He was being bagged – a nurse was forcing oxygen into the baby’s lungs through the tube that we had placed in his wind pipe. A better situation would have been putting him on a ventilator. However, in a developing country like ours, ventilators are a costly luxury in the Intensive Care Unit (ICU) and the paediatric ER is way down on the pecking order for those devices. Ali did not move at all during the time I observed him. His vital signs, heart rate and blood pressure were precariously maintained by medications that we had him on. He urgently needed a ventilator but there were none available in the ICU of the hospital. We were certainly not doing the child any favour by bagging, adding insult to injury because of the trauma to the lungs through such a primitive process of managing Ali’s breathing. But what else could we do? Though, from another perspective, Ali did not need that ventilator. The lack of oxygen, bleeding and dead tissue that had already occurred in the brain was likely going to put Ali in a vegetative state. The ventilator was simply going to prolong the inevitable. By then, Ali had been seen by neurosurgery, neurology and critical-care department, and a consensus had been reached, a grim outlook that had already been discussed at length with the parents. Ali’s parents seemed to be in denial. More so the mother. I was surprised that she was quite convinced that the baby would miraculously recover soon, which is why she had refused to sign the ‘Do Not Resuscitate’ (DNR) form. She validated her decision to maintain full life support for Ali because her religion and her God would not allow her to do otherwise. It is great to have hope, but I believe a rational approach to hope must be exercised, especially in the ER, given such humongous odds of poor outcomes. I felt frustrated by the status quo and it was then that I took the matter into my own hands, and approached Ali’s mother. In my anglicised Urdu, I explained to her, with as much objectivity that I could muster, Ali’s poor prognosis. I told her if Ali were to survive the ER stay and be admitted to an ICU on a ventilator, chances were his development would be impacted. I also mentioned the substantial costs of ventilator usage in an ICU setting. She told me to go away and return when Ali’s father was back. Ali’s father was on a wild goose chase to find a ventilator in a credible paediatric ICU in some other hospital in Karachi which would prove to be a tall order for him. I did return to Ali’s bedside once his father was back and repeated all my long-term concerns for Ali. I didn’t expect much ‘success’, as had been my general experience with parents in the ER I used to work in while I was in the US. However, when Ali’s father reported he was waiting for Ali’s aunt, a physician, to get to the ER to make a decision, I felt hopeful. It is strange that I strongly felt like advocating for Ali by not escalating his care; by discouraging placement on a ventilator, primarily given what the future for him looked like. In my five years in the ER in the US, I had never spoken to parents about DNR status. I had never seen a patient die in the ER there during my shift. That was my gauge of success. Resuscitating every critically sick child and placing them on ventilators, regardless of likely outcomes, favourable or unfavourable. Here, in Pakistan, for the first time in my life, I was cognisant of what I, as a medical practitioner, was doling out and it was not always in the patient’s best interests. Ali’s aunt came, took stock of the situation, upheld my thought process and made the decision to not have Ali moved elsewhere. She convinced Ali’s father to sign the DNR forms. Amazingly enough, she convinced Ali’s parents to extubate (pull out the breathing tube), stop all cardiac support medications, and to let Ali die. I was even more amazed when Ali’s parents consented. I felt an intangible optimism. Perhaps an inappropriate feeling given the situation, but I could not help it.

“Will he struggle to breathe prior to dying,” asked Ali’s mother. “I don’t know,” I said, while I frantically hoped that he would not struggle. “How long will it take?” asked Ali’s father. “I don’t know.” I replied, hoping that it would not be a protracted process.

“What resistance were you really expecting?”

“Give him a chance; he might live through this and what happens next is really not for you to worry about,” said my inner voice.

“Why is he still on the monitor? Take him off,” that inner voice chimed in again.

While doing my undergrad in Lahore – one of Pakistan’s most beautiful cities which is rich in cultural heritage and offers the best food you can find in the country – I remember getting into a rickshaw at night and taking a bumpy 30-minute drive to the famous Coffee Tea and Company (CTC) for their distinguished rich, moist and chocolatey lava cake with a scoop of vanilla bean ice cream. We always ended up ordering order two or three and would share it amongst the eight or nine of us. Although each person would only manage to get just six bites between the girly chatter and giggles, that lava cake was the bomb. It kept bringing us back to it almost every two weeks and they would always get it right. I had a friend who once had such a bad craving for it that she started crying because it was too late at night to go to CTC on a rickshaw. After moving back to Karachi after school, I tried lava cakes at three different places, but none of them were close to the one CTC served. They were either very floury or not quite moist. There also could never get the taste of the chocolate right; they tasted more sweet rather than chocolatey. After unsuccessfully searching for the perfect lava cake in Karachi and now in the Bay Area, I decided not to give up and try to make it myself using a recipe from a magazine I came across and tweaking it to my own liking. The key to getting a perfect lava cake is to use high quality baking chocolate and to grease your ramekins or custard cups well. Also, you can add a little piece of white chocolate in the middle of the ramekin before baking to achieve a white swirl in the middle of your lava stream. Ingredients: (Serves eight ramekins or four custard cups) Ramekins – 8 (6 oz – or 4 standard custard cups) Semisweet chocolate - 8 ounces (chopped coarsely - I used Ghirardelli) Unsalted butter - 8 tbsp Eggs -5 large (Use 4 and use only the yolk of the fifth one) Granulated sugar - ½ cup Vanilla essence - 1 tsp Salt - ¼ tsp Flour - 2 tbsp Icing sugar- for dusting Method: 1. Adjust the oven rack to the middle position and heat your oven to 400F or 200C. Grease the inside of each ramekin generously with butter and then dust with flour or cocoa powder and set aside. 2. Melt the chocolate and butter in a heatproof bowl set over slightly simmering water until smooth (stir only occasionally). Once it is smooth, set it aside. 3. In a separate bowl, using a whisk or stand mixer, whisk together the eggs, yolk, granulated sugar, vanilla and salt. You will need to whisk on medium to high speed for five minutes till the mixture lightens in colour and becomes smooth and thick. 4. Pour the egg mixture over the chocolate mixture or vice versa, and add the flour. Using a spatula, fold all of the ingredients together until they are mixed well. Pour the batter into the ramekins so they are almost full. 5. Stick the ramekin into the oven (placed on a rimmed baking sheet/tray) for about 13 minutes or until the cake has risen to about half an inch above the rim. You will have to adjust the time according to your oven, so keep checking after every 12 minutes. 6. If the top has a thin crust and the cake jiggles in the centre, they are done. 7. Run a thin knife round the edges of the ramekin to loosen the cake and then invert each cake onto a plate and let it sit until the cake releases itself. This might take up to a minute or two. 8. Do not shake it to release. You can dust the cakes with icing sugar and add strawberries or raspberries on top with a scoop of your favourite ice cream on the side. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="600"] Photo: Zainab Khan[/caption] [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="600"] Photo: Zainab Khan[/caption] I hope you enjoy baking and eating this delicious chocolate lava cake! Do not forget to share this recipe with your loved ones – they will love you for it. This post originally appeared here.

I am glad that the first post I will be writing here will be about one of my trip within Pakistan. Those who aspire to travel spend a lot of time planning trips to foreign lands. But what they don’t know is the fact that the same time can be used to explore the unique worlds that exist within Pakistan. I got such a chance this March, when I joined a small group of travel and photography enthusiasts led by Jibran from Tangerine Media and Sanam from Funverks on a day trip to the out skirts of Thatta. This entailed a combo of visits to Makli and Bhambore, both of which are situated near this small city. Makli is one of the largest necropolises in the world, which is also a UNESCO world heritage site. It is approximately a two-hour drive from Karachi and is perfect for a day trip where you can go early in the morning, see the place and get back home by evening. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="594"] Hundreds of years old it looks mostly like a desert but a closer look reveals many beautiful monuments and structures weathered away by time. Photo:Urooj Hussain[/caption] I had no idea that such a famous site existed in my very own backyard. The place, although being mostly dry and barren, is very serene and peaceful. Essentially, one is hiking through what in simple terms is a very large and ancient graveyard; the open roads and clear landscape make up for a very calming experience. I don’t know if it was the weather that day or simply just the way that place was, but the light scattered everywhere in the most beautiful way and it helped me take some really good photographs with just my camera phone. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="594"] An ancient tomb in Makli. Photo: Urooj Hussain[/caption] Look at the man in the turban sitting in front of this tomb in the picture above. He was just sitting there motionless with no expression. He looked pretty awesome to me. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="599"] Walls intricately carved with Quranic verses hundreds of years old. Photo: Urooj Hussain[/caption] [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="599"] The remains of a beautiful wall? near the tomb of “Mai Makli’ the female after whom the necropolis is apparently named after. Photo: Urooj Hussain[/caption] The open landscape was just breath-taking here. The winds were so strong that at times, they would not even let you walk in a straight line (or maybe it was affecting me so much because I am kind of tiny). A word of advice, take the ‘scenic’ route and walk through the cemetery rather than driving through it. It will be a bit of a walk but it is definitely worth it. Just make sure you go during a time when it is not too hot. Once we got through this area, our tour bus took us to see the famous Shah Jahan Mosque  in Thatta. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="594"] I took this picture while hiding behind a pillar. I thought he might get offended if he saw me taking a picture of him while praying. Photo: Urooj Hussain[/caption] [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="599"] Inside one of the many domes. Photo: Urooj Hussain[/caption] Our last stop was Bhambore, an ancient city now in ruins, near the bank of the Indus. Being closer to the port, it was also near to where Muhammad bin Qasim had arrived in the subcontinent. The ruins themselves are quite interesting remnants of forts and mosques. Sadly, it is not as well preserved as it deserves to be. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300"] Photo: Urooj Hussain[/caption] The last bit of the trip was a small traditional boat ride on the creek. We had to take off our shoes and walk through the clay-like mud to sit in the boat. It was a great experience. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300"] Photo: Urooj Hussain[/caption] [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="300"] Photo: Urooj Hussain[/caption] [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="594"] Photo: Urooj Hussain[/caption] By the end of the trip, I was badly sun-burnt, had walked about 16,000 steps (as per my iPhone pedometer), had gotten a bad cut on my foot, and had also – accidentally – eaten a bug or two; but for all the beauty that I came across in this trip, these problems were worth it. I saw some amazing artifacts of history and it made the experience awe-striking. Not to mention, I had some really fun people to travel with. The dos and don’ts I learnt from this trip were: - Take lots of pictures - Take a mini first-aid kit (pain killers, bandages – but nothing too heavy) - Sun-block (it is a must) - Wear proper walking shoes - Take an extra pair of socks - Take sunglasses - Take some chocolate or candy along to keep your energy levels up while walking - Keep a small bottle of water – just enough to keep hydrated - Keep a tube of lip balm and a tiny bottle of lotion – it can get a bit dry out there - Take a scarf to cover your head (some places are sacred – it can look disrespectful) - Don’t drink too much water (you will not find a good and clean bathroom in the middle of ancient ruins) My trip to Thatta was very rewarding and I look forward to visiting more such hidden treasures in Pakistan’s culturally diverse landscape. This post originally appeared here.

Peshawar, the capital of Khyber-Pakhtunkhwa (K-P), is gearing up to host the region’s largest gathering of techies, entrepreneurs and designers – the Digital Youth Summit 2015 (DYS). First organised in 2014, it is a joint venture of Peshawar 2.0, World Bank and the Khyber Pakhtunkhwa IT Board. Popularly known for its hospitality, Peshawar is one of the oldest existing cities in Asia. This tells the story of its resilience, and its ability to survive and stand tall even in the most testing of times. However, this is an age where the most likely cities to survive and remain on the global map would be the ones who can innovate fast and leverage knowledge and technology. Apart from rebranding Peshawar as a city of technology, design and art, there are three big motivators which compelled the organizers of DYS to choose Pakistan for their conference. One, a huge chunk of Pakistan’s population is between the ages of 18 and 30. Two, with increasing unemployment, there are not enough jobs available to most of the young people in the country. And lastly, most of these young people do not have marketable skills for 21st century careers, let alone essential skills required to build a successful start-up. All great ingredients for a conference like DYS, which brings the spotlight on online work and tech entrepreneurship. The organisers of DYS took these challenges head-on and pushed the youth-led movement of technology, innovation and entrepreneurship in Peshawar to the next level. And what better way than bringing together all the digital innovators from both within Pakistan and from abroad under one room to share their expertise, experiences and ideas. It has not only inspired local students but is also helping to stir a revolution of entrepreneurship and innovation in the region. The first edition of the conference in 2014 had almost a thousand attendees – from Gilgit to Karachi – and 66 speakers – from Singapore to Silicon Valley – who shared their views and expertise during the panel discussions and workshops. The conference was able to create a lot of buzz on social media, leading its official hashtag to trend on Twitter, thus reaching a far greater number of audiences online. Not just this, DYS was able to create a lot of positive news about Peshawar in both print and digital media. The first edition was a success because it was able to inspire the student community of the city by providing them the opportunity to listen to success stories of local entrepreneurs. The conference also gave them a chance to listen to talks and panel discussions related to some of the most important trends in the digital industry. It also touched upon some of the most important aspects of starting one’s own venture, from conception of ideas to incubation and funding sources. Another positive development to have come out of DYS 2014 was the ownership of the conference and its objectives by stakeholders from the academia, private sector, government and the development sector alike. All three organising partners are very serious to give the city a new image and to rebrand Peshawar as the most hospitable city to techies, entrepreneurs and start-ups. Progress on the ground is bringing us all closer to that goal. This year’s DYS would build on the previous year’s success. Scheduled for May 7^th to 9^th, 2015, this year’s DYS is dubbed ‘bigger and better’. The organisers of the event hope to attract more number of participants, start-ups, experts and speakers from across the country and beyond. Also, it wants to reach a far greater number of audiences through both print and social media. For an old city such as Peshawar, with its image tarnished by security issues and meagre law and order situation, what’s better than reinventing and re-branding itself by opening its arms to technology and innovation?

Who bags NA-246 and which party stands victorious tonight makes little difference. What matters is that today’s election will put an end to the environment and politics of fear prevalent in Karachi for years. Active campaigning by other candidates in Muttahida Qaumi Movement’s (MQM) stronghold, polling agents standing brave at polling stations that were once no-go areas for all political parties and candidates except MQM and fearless voters walking into polling booths with the intention to not vote for MQM, and then being able to walk out and go home, are all a breath of fresh air for Karachiites. This by-election is little about a seat in the Parliament; it has been more about creating political space, and room to breathe in Karachi’s once suffocating air. Tonight will reveal only one victor, but many claimants. In their statements, everyone will be a winner. One can only predict these statements, but one can also add a tinge of presumed honesty to his predictions. Pakistan Tehreek-e-Insaf (PTI) may be the first to claim credit for ending fear. They have been doing so well before the Election Day. They may state,

“Winning the NA-246 seat was never our objective, the real aim was to eliminate fear from the voters' hearts and minds, and in that we have succeeded. It is PTI, and PTI alone who is responsible for the fearless environment that we witness in Karachi today. We intentionally did not attempt to rid Karachi of this menacing fear in the 2013 general elections. It was always our plan to fight this battle in a by-election. The fact that Rangers had already done what we claim to be doing is yet another anti-PTI propaganda”.

“It is the PPP that deserves credit for improved law and order situation in Karachi. After ruling Karachi for over seven years, we suddenly decided it was time to clean this city of all that is evil. Under the guidance of our sab pe bhari Zardari, we decided to nod in affirmation to everything the rangers say or do. The fact that we did not have a choice has nothing to do with our consent to the Karachi operation.”

“For every press conference by Imran Khan, there is an equal and opposite press conference by Pervaiz Rasheed”.

“Imran Khan jhoot boltay hain (Imran Khan lies)”, following his set format for opening press conferences.

“Karachi owes its improved law and order situation to no one but the honourable Prime Minister and his government. The army and rangers sometimes tell us what they plan on doing. Sometimes they tell us after they have done it. The fact of the matter is that sometimes, we are told and informed. Karachi operation is one of such planned and done things. And the government may or may not have been told; nevertheless it is the government and thus deserves credit for anything good going on in the country. Anything bad though, is a conspiracy against us hatched by Imran Khan in connivance with anti-Pakistan elements. I would like to end my statement by saying that Imran Khan aik ganda bacha hai (Imran Khan is a bad boy).”

Dear Mr Sharif, There is no doubt that you have heard about the murder of Sabeen Mahmud. Other members of parliament and politicians have extended their grievances. And I’m sure that even as I write this, your PA is vigorously typing out your official response; one that will attempt to soothe the flaring tempers of the people who knew her and those that didn’t. But Sir, haven’t we been here before? Someone beloved and irreplaceable gunned down because they said something that upset someone more powerful than them, and everyone condemns their murder via an official channel. What more will you do Sir, as the prime minister of a country home to those brave enough to say that which you cannot openly admit? Isn’t it strange Sir that you, the ‘democratically’ elected leader of a nation 18-crore strong weren’t a threat, but Sabeen, a humble woman running her library-cum-coffee shop from a quiet part of Karachi would threaten factions strong enough to silence an uprising that broke Mohandas Gandhi’s world record? You’ve never lived in Karachi, so I don’t know if you’re familiar with Sabeen or her work. She was incredibly sweet. When I was 17, I was involved in a student NGO. We had big dreams and no money, and Sabeen was one of the five people who agreed to help us. My friend and partner went to visit this lovely lady, recovering from a knee surgery, who humoured the ‘I want to change the world’ sentiments of a teenager. She invited Karachi’s public and its intellectuals over for coffee and conversation, keeping the spirit of community alive and vibrant. And most recently, she took a stand against oppressive elements and agreed to let the gaping wounds of Balochistan use her tiny ‘second floor’ as medicine. Please don’t misunderstand me, Sir. I am not advocating her case to you. Her genius does not need your endorsement. Her bravery does not need your medals. But as a Karachiite, I need you to understand what has been taken from us. I need you to understand what we have lost. She was more important than your campaigns Sir, because she never had to claim to understand our grief, feel our pain or value our opinions. She never had to pretend to be one of us; she was one of us! And I know that just like before, her murder will be dismissed with a brief ‘condemnation’. But it cannot stop there. You cannot let her death end what she had the courage to start. You cannot let the Balochistan cause disappear into the abyss once again. Before this, there were few who spoke about the atrocities in Balochistan. Many tried in vain, and were silenced. And now there are reports that Sabeen too was threatened. But she went ahead with it sir. At the risk of her own life, she went ahead with it. The least you can do is honour her sacrifice. If a single woman with little power, and lots of knowledge, could raise her voice against this dangerous subject, then the most powerful man in the country should have the gall to ensure that death does not silence her cause. I will not condemn this country; because I have lived in Pakistan long enough to know that it is a brave and resilient nation. I know that the children of Pakistan value the lives of others more than their own. I know that the mothers of Pakistan can recover from the massacre of their children. I have lived in Karachi long enough, and have met enough of its people to know that in some circles Sabeen wasn’t the exception, she was and will always be the norm. But sir, neither you nor I can ignore that the government has failed this brave nation one too many times. Since news of the tragedy broke, I have heard the voices of naysayers. I have been told that Sabeen’s example wasn’t that of inspiration, but of a warning. That there are some aspects of civilian rights that must remain anonymous. And I’m sure that you would caution me in the same way. Why am I even writing this? I suppose these are the outpourings of one who is truly powerless. I suppose they are the confusions of the child in me, who saw Sabeen’s little space and said,

“I wish I could do that!”

The by-elections in the much hyped NA-246 constituency was a day of infamy for Karachi and its citizens, and I feel the federal and provincial governments owe an apology to us, the citizens. This constituency managed to gather an unprecedented interest as the by-elections were announced in the wake of the Rangers’ raid on Muttahida Qaumi Movement’s (MQM) headquarters and a controversial ‘confessional’ statement issued by Saulat Mirza behind bars. The entire media, including political parties, sat in judgment to defame the party and created a frenzy predicting the coming of doomsday for MQM. I am in no way remotely linked with MQM, yet I am convinced that the entire focus was aimed at ridiculing middle-class educated Karachiites. Surprisingly, it was as if our citizens were experiencing such an incident for the first time. Focusing on the elections, it seemed to me as if a fight was going on between David and Goliath, or a messiah was coming to liberate us from the demons, or as if we are living in under tyrannical occupation and the only way out of this mess was Imran Khan, our saviour. The battle lines were drawn between the proletariats and the bourgeoisie. Predominantly it was a matter of class and racist behaviour. In any case, this turned out to be the finest hour for MQM, since the myth about bogus voting and over stuffing of ballots was shattered completely. I beg to differ on the praises being heaped on the authorities by the press as to how peaceful and democratic the elections were. The overwhelming presence of law enforcement agencies in and outside the polling booths is a sad reflection on the incompetence and shrieking of responsibility on part of the Election Commission of Pakistan. It is baffling as to why no one is giving an explanation concerning irregularities in the voters’ lists. At some polling stations, the polling staff was definitely not ready for voters, which delayed the process and extra time was not allowed either. Furthermore, some of the voters who by chance had brought their mobile phones despite the ban were asked to leave and denied the opportunity to vote. If a benign attitude had been adopted by the security agents, a person would have been designated to collect the mobiles and could have handed them back once their vote would have been casted – no big deal. The decision of polling on a working day is incomprehensible; instead of a Thursday it should have been held on Sunday – hell would not have broken loose. Did officials in the decision-making process not realise that this particular constituency is mostly comprised of lower-middle class and self-income generating professionals? They had to be in at work by 9am and the delayed polling process ended up excluding quite a large number of voters. As has been reported in a section of the press, an MQM candidate was denied his constitutional and lawful right of visiting polling stations in his constituency. Now, an important question which requires an unambiguous answer is will the Karachi election process model be replicated for the entire country, and if not, why was it thrust upon Karachi? Are the masses in this particular section rowdy or unruly? Or was it the extraordinary law and order situation which warranted such measures? The democratic process does not allow anyone to hold elections under the shadow of bayonets and repressive methods. If the policy-makers are really sincere in restoring peace and tranquillity to Karachi, they need to adopt a Delhi-like model with a separate chief minister and cabinet for the city. The divisive lines drawn on ethnic basis can only be quelled if all stakeholders are earnestly involved in the policy-making of the city. Otherwise, we should brace ourselves for a very bloody election next time.

The judicial commission set up to investigate the legitimacy of the votes casted in NA-125 has decided that there shall be a re-vote in the constituency. Shah Mehmood Qureshi deems this as one of the first steps towards a Naya Pakistan under Imran Khan. After the revelation, Khwaja Saad Rafique was found defending himself in front of reporters and journalists, blaming the returning officers of the seven polling stations where the irregularities in vote count were found. While these politicians blame each other face front, their parties have already begun deciding candidates for the empty seat. The war between Pakistan Tehreek-e-Insaf (PTI) and Pakistan Muslim League-Nawaz (PML-N) began the very day the results for the 2013 general elections were announced. PML-N defended itself as PTI and many other major parties like Pakistan Muslim League-Quaid (PML-Q) and Pakistan Peoples Party (PPP) accused PML-N of having rigged the elections since the establishment in Punjab was already in their support. As the days progressed, videos of rigging from within the polling stations began circulating throughout social media as PTI started planning to begin its campaign against the ruling party. After months of urging the government to start a commission against the four seats where rigging instances had been spotted, PTI decided to launch its significant long march. Eventually on August 14, 2014, PTI began its long march to launch a commission against the rigged elections and also to make the prime minister resign. However, after the Army Public School attack took place, Imran and Nawaz decided to work together to handle the situation and the march came to an end. Towards the end, Imran let go of most of his demands and focused on the creation of a judicial commission to check for irregularities in the 2013 general elections. This judicial commission came into existence after PTI and PML-N signed an official agreement through a presidential decree, and focused its concerns with four constituencies – NA-125, NA-122, NA-110 and NA-154. Just days ago, PTI lost badly in the cantonment elections across the country and lost many seats, some even to members of underdog parties, like in Karachi, and independent candidates, like in Attock. After their humiliating defeat, people had widely started to speculate PTI’s demise, thinking that the party’s decline was inevitable, especially since it lost the NA-246 by-elections. However, these speculations died down after the commission proved that PTI’s claims were correct – partially at least. Now, PTI hopes to fight forward and win the re-polling in NA-125. Nineteen candidates competed for the seat in 2013 and 11 in 2008 and both times the candidate of PML-N (Khwaja Saad Rafique) won by an astounding margin to the runner-up. This is the final make or break point for PTI as it has another chance to win in the NA-125 and PP-155 seats. If PTI takes the election in the area by a compelling margin, they can easily get back to a stronger position to blame PML-N for rigging but if PTI loses to PML-N again or to any other candidate, the repercussions could be severe and dangerous for Imran’s party. One can easily predict, if PTI loses this by-election, people will largely start doubting Imran’s capacity as a leader. Having said that, Imran will still have the support that youngsters have to offer since they have been blinded by the reputation and bold personality of the World Cup-winner but as proven by several surveys, he will have to wait a few years before they get their turn to vote. If PTI wins NA-125, any other seat that opens up after the results from the judicial commission will be a possible win for the party. And that would increase the trust people have in Imran’s capability. By keeping itself in the limelight and maintaining itself as the centre of attention, PTI is making sure that people know that it is here to stay. And hopefully this would help them in the 2018 general elections. For now, it is up to Imran Khan to select his best candidate and set him/her up to compete in NA-125. If he manages a win, there will be hope again but if he loses, things can definitely go south.

What concerns me most is a word. It is a simple word that is not heard on the lips of people in most parts of the world, but for me it is a word that desperately needs to be heard more often. Whenever I do hear this word, or say it myself, it stirs emotions that I cannot explain. I cannot do justice to the memories they evoke. That word is Balochistan. I have grown up around politics and in politics. For a daughter of a Baloch tribal leader and activist, politics and life are irreversibly intertwined. The need to understand the ethnic and national tensions that have plagued Pakistani society for decades is integral to how I think, and as important as the lives-and deaths-of family to these struggles. To understand what drives individuals, tribes and nations to do what they do is necessary to understanding this conflict. Although many people are unaware of this, there has been resistance from the Baloch people to Balochistan’s inclusion in the Pakistani state since its forced annexation in 1947, when the state of Pakistan separated from India. The Baloch people have always viewed Balochistan as a proudly independent nation, asserting their right to self-determination and the right to pursue their own wishes in their own way; to employ their own mineral resources without the wealth being exploited by companies owned and run by the Pakistani elite. This select few make up the Islamabad government and the military that underpins its pre-eminence. The tribal system in Balochistan has been strongly held culpable for Balochistan’s impoverishment and ironically, most of the Baloch tribal deities serve the government. My grandfather, Sardar Attaullah Mengal joined politics as an activist member of the Baloch movement. He served as the first chief minister of Balochistan and it was during his rule that the first university in Balochistan opened. Years have passed, governments have changed but the number of universities has not. He spent 10 years in jail only because he stood up against the tyranny that prevailed in Balochistan. It was during his revolt that his family was first targeted. My uncle, Shaheed Asadullah Mengal was the first case of a missing person in Balochistan in 1974 during Zulfikar Ali Bhutto’s regime. My family refused to believe he was dead because no evidence of his body was found. There was always a ray of hope of his return; a hope which died the day my grandfather named my cousin after him. That’s when everyone knew Shaheed Asadullah Mengal, who was only 19-years-old at the time of his disappearance, was gone. My maternal grandfather, Shaheed Aslam Jan Gichki, another advocate of freedom for the Baloch people, was murdered in 2002. Following his death, politics assumed new and frightening proportions. Our family was not only divided but hatred amongst us elevated for one another. The tactic of ‘divide and rule’ is one that I strongly believe the British planted for our agencies to adopt. Even though his murder is assumed to be the cause of tribal enmity, the ones who are aware of deceitful Pakistani politics know who is responsible for his death. The torment imposed on my family and the Baloch people, initially created a feeling of vulnerability, but as the atrocities within Pakistani society increased, my desire to understand why these things were happening, and to do something to combat them, increased. Our wounds had still not been healed when my uncle, Shaheed Hasan Gichki, was brutally murdered in Central Jail Karachi in 2006. Not only was he a father figure to us but a man with profound dignity. After Shaheed Akbar Bughti’s death, my father had become extremely vocal in Balochistan and instigated a wake-up call for the Baloch people. To hinder his cause, the agencies’ new target was us, Akhtar Mengal’s children. My siblings and I were being followed to and from school. For our protection, he left everything behind, only to be trapped in a game he did not know was being played. He was arrested as a consequence of ‘harassing’ intelligence militia. Agencies and police surrounded our house in Karachi, as if a leading terrorist, and not a champion of freedom for our people, resided there. My father was released after the Pakistan People’s Party (PPP) came into power. Luckily, he was neither killed nor tortured in jail but was kept in solitary confinement. Unluckily, his food was poisoned to such an extent that that he suffers to this day. After moving away in self-exile, my family thought things may get better but they certainly did not. Numerous Balochistan National Party’s (BNP) central workers were openly murdered on the streets. Shaheed Hassan Gichki’s father, Shaheed Nadir Gichki, was murdered in Tump allegedly by government authorities. My cousins, Shaheed Murad Gichki and Shaheed Zubair Gichki, were brutally murdered on the same day in Turbat. Many young Baloch brothers have gone missing and many bullet-riddled bodies have been found. We pleaded and knocked on every door there is in the name of justice. Yet, no one heard us. What have we received from the people of Pakistan except neglect and torment? The ones who are brave enough to stand beside us and hear our stories are targeted. Sabeen Mahmud was a fearless activist who not only stood up for what she believed in, but left a message which most of the intellectuals should make use of. If we, the Baloch, were ever considered a part of Pakistan, Sabeen would not be the only one debating. There is a growing and pressing need to come to terms with the issues of Balochistan so that we can calmly and peacefully address what really matters; the well-being of all people and how to make sure that repression and reprisal is turned into liberation, mutual benefit and cooperation. It is only through the means of political discourse and agreement between willing partners that this can be achieved. The state, with its immense resources (many of which are from Baloch sources) and institutions, continues encouraging disorder, disunity and fragmentation in the Baloch society. They use all possible resources to discourage any political and social opposition in the province-even those that are illegal and are opposed by western governments and human rights bodies. Both ‘pro-government’ and nationalist tribal leaders blame each other as causes of the problem, ultimately taking advantage of their power bases for their own selfish ends. They choose this, rather than working together for the betterment of Balochistan and its people. Fragmentation and disorder in Balochistan has adversely affected the political and social process. Disunity among both tribal chiefs and moderate political elements has encouraged the authorities to increase the ferocity of the promotion of their agenda with support garnered by military and the intelligence agencies. The Baloch society, awash with natural resources, has vital strategic importance as it borders the conflict hotspots of Iran and Afghanistan, but it is crippled by its low literacy rate, minimal communication resources, and worsening social indicators. What Balochistan requires is a change of perspective and to aspire to a visionary political approach to tribal leadership, to shun their minor differences and to work together to achieve lasting peace and bring prosperity to the traumatised Baloch population. There are many reasons why the current situation is as bleak as it is now, but the major cause of failure to achieve political progress is a lack of understanding and a lack of clear strategy to respond to the Pakistani establishment’s malicious and hurtful policies; put in place to subjugate the Baloch people in place of real negotiation. Each political party and group is responding merely to their own agenda, and Islamabad uses this to its own end. Baloch political groups need to come up with a plan to respond to Islamabad and create a win-win situation that benefits everyone. Whether this is feasible is arguable, the real sentiments that individual players in this scenario possess, is truly, anyone’s guess. On one hand, nationalists proudly assert their support for the oppressed Baloch, yet may only wish to keep hold of their power base and wealth that their feudal status confers. They accuse pro-government leaders of collaboration, yet they could be said to be as corrupt as their opponents given their refusal to step back from the tribal system that legitimises their territorial stronghold. Equally, those taking money from government contracts could be said to be the mirror image of their opponents. Indeed, the dividing line is often less than clear; many tribal leaders take advantage of the benefits offered by pro-government leaders despite their apparent disdain. Corruption in the Pakistani enterprise could be said to be endemic to the point where it cannot be avoided at some point without a resignation from power that both parties refuse to sanction. It will take something more than heated words from positions of privilege to effect change. What is needed in Pakistan and Balochistan is a real need to open up government to true democratic change that cannot happen under the current tribal and federal system, as selfishness is integral to running both the state and the opposition. Deeply entrenched as they are, it may be possible if the will to achieve real political change can take place. At present, this is a very remote possibility. The struggle of my people is why I wish to dedicate my life to the same goals as my family. To support our province, our people and achieve some degree of justice. But the status quo means I cannot do this alone, not until people as courageous as Sabeen Mahmud stand with us. The lesson of East Pakistan should have been enough for most Pakistanis to stand up against injustice but I do not blame most of you, most of you are not aware of our despair. I write this, not with contempt but because I implore you to open your eyes, to heed our suffering and help build a better future.

Last Friday, director Nida Butt’s little MAD School held its first comedy night and lovers of all things funny united in Karachi and showed up in droves. Now the excessive rush probably had a little sumthin-sumthin to do with ticket price being just Rs100! Most stand-up comedians were improv artists and were making their stand-up debut the same night. The line-up consisted of Hassnain Shah, Ehsan Yar, Umar Ahmed, Ali Junejo and Natasha Humera Ejaz, Faiza Saleem, Syed Osama Sami, Zuhaib Shaikh and Akbar Chaudry. Each comedian had their own unique sense of humour and style and surprisingly all of them were funny in their own way. But some were definitely funnier than the rest. Hassnain Shah, a stand-up first-timer, recently moved back to Pakistan from the US and had some good jokes about being a Pakistani in the US and how it is like coming back home. [embed width="620"]https://vimeo.com/126774439[/embed] Ehsan Yar had some adult-themed jokes that were controversial but hilarious. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="387"] Ehsan Yar. Photo: Saba Khalid[/caption] Umar Ahmed spoke about some mailas in Karachi, difficulties explaining Chartered Accountancy to his relatives and the controversial billboard of a telecommunication company. [embed width="620"]https://vimeo.com/126785744[/embed] [embed width="620"]https://vimeo.com/126777578[/embed] The duo Ali Junejo and Natasha Humera Ejaz did a completely improv bit on two people meeting for the first time and how the dynamics of their relationship change when the timeline is projected (one week, one month and one year) into the future. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="491"] Ali Junejo and Natasha Humera Ejaz. Photo: Saba Khalid[/caption] Facebook superstar Faiza Saleem got the crowd in fits with her jokes about the dynamics of her family, romantic relationships and rishtas in our culture. [embed width="620"]https://vimeo.com/126773285[/embed] Syed Osama Sami’s jokes were pretty funny on the very rich, the very fair, the skinny or the beautiful. [embed width="620"]https://vimeo.com/126888834[/embed] [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="302"] Syed Osama Sami. Photo: Saba Khalid[/caption] Zuhaib Shaikh had some funny bits about the fear of one of his body members getting wounded and how Pakistanis aren’t as judgmental as we think! [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="391"] Zuhaib Shaikh. Photo: Saba Khalid[/caption] And finally Akbar Chaudry, the improv extraordinaire, concluded the show with his hilarious contribution to the fun and laughter-filled comedy night. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="441"] Akbar Chaudry. Photo: Saba Khalid[/caption] With the success of this comedy night at MAD School, we do hope this becomes a fortnightly affair. Us Karachi-walay are comedy-hungry, and I’m sure we would not miss a single comedy night! PS: A word of advice to the open-minded comedy-loving parents… please use parental discretion and keep your 8-year-olds at home!