Falling Down

JANUARY 2003 - What is it that haunts our people? A death wish? A burning desire to annihilate themselves? What twisted ideology can explain say the sabotaging if the gas pipeline in far away Baluchistan that sent two of the country’s four provinces into a fit of gas-ping? Are such acts the right way to focus attention on what may be genuine demands? This global debate has been going on since 9/11 and there are as many opinions as there are people, but how can a poor and struggling country like ours, afford to allow such wanton acts? Such is the national indifference to the real issues at hand that the resumption of gas supplies will satisfy almost all the people and the enquiry (for that is what they insist on calling such things) into the sabotage, will remain confined to reports. Any ‘finding’ shall be immediately given a liberal coating of dust and consigned to the national archives of rubbish where such giants as Ojri Camp lie rotting. The heaters will come on and life will resume its wobbly progress.

Someone moaned that were we only to adhere to some of the most basic of principles that reflect the lives of the world’s advanced countries, we would be transformed. That may be a pertinent observation, but anyone who lives in Pakistan or its neighboring giant, will know that this is like asking for the moon and a few planets thrown in. The popular way of life in the subcontinent has been the philosophy of the short cut, which if you can understand it, will answer all the baffling thoughts that rush through your head daily. No one is ready to wait and no one has any longer the capacity to think of anything else other than what may be of concern to them at that precise moment. This will more than explain the action of the owner of a one million rupee car as he jabs the button that sends his automatic window hissing down and in one smooth motion sends out sailing cartons of juice, banana and orange peels, bags of ground nut shells and other such equally charming items, on to the public road that he is traversing with his brood. In his mind – and we should not mind the size of this little organ, there is only one subject that occupies it; the quick disposal of the plastic bag. His entire being is focused on that one ambition and therefore his body simply carries out the instructions to achieve that goal. Once the plastic bag has sailed out and crashed on the tarmac, disintegrating into dozens of pieces, not all of them biodegradable, his soul will be at rest and his mind would now be transferring all its energies into the next project on hand – overtaking from the wrong but faster side so that he can get ahead of the person in front of him. If not this, other equally sublime tasks will no doubt be churning in his head.

It is the same philosophy or way of living that explains the otherwise unexplainable motion of men and women who wander into main thoroughfares almost as if in a trance and then proceed to execute stunts that would leave David Copperfield breathless. Such stunts as crossing a road being driven upon by plastic-bag thrower and his tribe who too are on a destruction-of-mankind mission leave most speechless or give rise to such expletives that cannot be printed. These crossings are seemingly the work of sleepwalkers, men and women in a daze as they saunter casually into the path of hurtling buses, crazed wagons and other equally riveting examples of speed thrillers that abound. Not a trace of fear or tension mars their faces; almost in an exalted state of bliss they walk across thundering buses without hearing pressure horns screaming or hundreds of horses catapulting the structure towards them at speeds that are usually associated with racetracks. Most manage the great crossings - these journeys that defy explanation without losing a thread on their shirts or even a graze on their shins. Now and then metal and flesh meet and everyone is very puzzled. The millions who defy death and walk without looking right or left are not crazy. They are single-minded individuals who only have one task in mind; the crossing. In the far regions of what must be minds, a half completed equation has been worked out that places the responsibility of their action on someone else and thereby completely absolves them of any consequences. When you multiply such weird behaviour on a national scale, you have the resultant chaos and confusion that is now the signature of this part of the world. The fact that we breed like sex-crazed rabbits doesn’t exactly help the situation, but then what else can most people do after 6 pm? Go to the theatre? Not possible since most parts of the subcontinent have still to experience the pleasure of electric power and highbrow culture comes much later.

All of this would be acceptable were it not to have such horrendous after effects on our national lives. The absence of basic discipline – and this may be over simplifying things, is largely responsible for the growing mess we find ourselves in. Of course there are dozens of other factors – education , rather its complete absence, law and order, justice and its permanent absence, population, over-size and greedy armies, etc, etc but surely the structure on which we stand uncertainly, have no foundations worth mentioning because, above all we have no discipline. Where we exhibit this quality, we do wonders. We excel, we surge ahead, we pull off impossible things, but that is only in controlled conditions. Because of this great failing, we trigger off many more side effects and each one of them, in turn, cause more effects that leave our fortunes sagging and our morale sloping downwards. The subcontinent suffers from huge problems, not all of them of their own making, but if somehow we are able to start grasping the very basics and start applying them – even weakly, miracles can happen. People have to start understanding that no one can come and sort out their problems, that state structures, the inept and widely abused systems, the wanton destruction of codes and the erosion of value systems, will carry on unless and until they are willing to start coalescing and forming pools of public opinion that can make a difference to ordinary lives. In Pakistan, some swear that they saw this in the disciplined ranks of the common folk who make up the MQM but then the leadership of this party seems wedded to the use of drilling machines as civilized means of communication, so much of that public spirit goes down the choking national gutters. Elsewhere, we all know nothing like this happens.

So where are the miracle cures? They are not in heaven and neither is a celestial light going to shine from the far away galaxies and lead us into salvation and more meaningful lives. The answers have always been here and one small single step taken at a time can achieve great things. There is no patience for small steps here because we are disillusioned people, betrayed again and again by those we trust but collectively we can make things happen. The light will not come from our leaders. We all know who they are and what they are. Hoping that they will lead us is foolish. It is for all of us to start making a small difference. How does it happen? That car window should not hiss down, the right of way should be respected, the line at a bill-paying counter observed – these are small measures, but they can change fortunes.