Dearest Sis,
A simple task of just putting captions on my photos was not so simple after all. One must chose the right words to describe what the photo represents. And last night was the night when I thought I could do it in few minutes but miserably failed to do so. I felt that something was missing so I turned off my computer, took a bath, and filled a mug with milk, and then lay down on my bed.
It was 2:00a.m. but my mind was alert and it was putting pieces together—I recalled the details of the entire day—how I went to Independence Square where historic Minto Park and the Emperor’s Mosque are situated. Minto Park has a very special place in Pakistan’s history. This is where for the first time, a resolution proposing the separate state of Pakistan was presented on March 23, 1940; and this resolution became the heart and soul of millions of Muslims on the subcontinent. On that very spot the minaret Minar-e-Pakistan was built to salute those who struggled and sacrificed for a separate homeland.
Ordinary people like Sufdar the mason with the slogan on his face (I LOVE PAKISTAN). I asked him if he really meant it and he gave me a straight answer, “Yes I do love Pakistan. Many young men of my village went to Middle Eastern countries for better paying jobs but I stayed back because I love my country and my parents are buried in this soil.”
A young vendor, selling Chana Chaat (a savory dish made with garbanzo beans, potatoes, spices, etc.) in white cups with green spoons in it caught my eye. I asked why he chose these two colors and he answered back, “It is Independence Day and these are our national flag colors; it is my way to celebrate independence.” Many people, especially young men who came from different small towns and cities just to celebrate Independence Day in Lahore were dressed in colorful clothes and their painted faces added an interesting presence in the crowd. I saw a youth standing beneath Minar-e- Pakistan and watching it with fascination, he was almost in a dream-like state. I quickly took his photo, he smiled back, and went away.
A few steps away I saw a couple of kids and a man were standing with Pakistani flags raised upside down. I rushed towards them and asked them if they were aware that the flags were upside down? And the man, Zaheer Hussain, an ex-Pakistani telecommunications worker in his early 40’s who lost his job a few months ago, but was soon going to be reinstated, said he and his family were protesting against the high prices of food, poverty, and the unstable situation in Pakistan and how it was affecting us.
“So we have raised our flags upside down to protest peacefully against these issues,” he said. I was surprised to hear that but, there where also people who sacrificed and were bearing it all like the Pakistan band Live! that came all the way from a small town on the outskirts of Lahore to perform on Independence Day. They had saved money for travel expenses and to rent some of musical instruments for their small show, to just entertain people, not to make money out of it—only to cherish our independence.
When I came out of Minto Park I saw a small tent and board saying School of Clay Doll—a term used for a man in Punjabi Sufi Poetry. It means that man is a fragile and very small entity in this universe and should be very humble and benevolent to his own kind and others. But if he is doing evil things, just a slap from Mighty God will shatter him into bits. Only those who have a kind heart and their deeds are good are worthy of calling themselves men, otherwise they are just empty shells, dolls made of clay worth noting.
School of Clay Doll is small group of poets and intellectuals trying to help the common man by giving him lessons on various social issues, but not as preachers, rather helping them realize their status as a benevolent and humble human beings.
As I was leaving for home I saw a rusty cart with empty bottles and a Pakistani flag on it, with the green part that represents Pakistan’s Muslim majority ripping away exactly from its white part that represents Pakistan’s minorities, standing on dusty rough path, unmanned, with glorious Baadshahi Mosque behind it.
As I turned around with a heavy heart I saw a child standing in front of me and I felt he was asking me a question, “What sort of Pakistan are you making for us?” I slowly took his photo and turned off my camera and looked at the setting sun.
The day was ending, but it had changed something inside me, inspired me, and also fascinated me. This day taught me that I was not seeing a meaningless crowd. All these faces have stories which I was unable to see and appreciate before. These photos were never meant to be great pictures or perfect by professional standards. They are only moments that I saw, felt, and learned from. Only my fascination made me capture these photos and their memory will always stay in my mind to remind me who I am.
Long Live Pakistan!
