Pass me the henna

OCTOBER 2002 - There is no end to bad luck is there? Just as one was beginning to get used to a life without Lt.Gen. Tauqir Zia and his merry men charging through the rank and file of whatever is left of Pakistan cricket, he is back along with the gang. Not that he really left in the first place but that break of 24 hours was a thin edge of hope in an otherwise hopeless scenario. Well at least he offered to quit. The generals and their lackeys who have brought Pakistan’s hockey to its knees and then further lower, are too busy unpacking their shopping to think of resigning.

It is a measure of Lt. Gen. Tauqir Zia’s philosophy of life that prompts loud mouth Shoaib Akhtar to arrive in Sharjah and bray about what he is going to do to the Australians. Can no one shut this arrogant stupid man? His skipper is no better and on the eve of the third test (don’t hold your breath to see a rejuvenated side) informs the cricketing world that the Waugh brothers are under considerable pressure. The pot calling the kettle black and in this case a very black pot excuse my rabid racism. No wonder Allan Border retorted saying that Pakistan could be thrashed by an ordinary Sydney cricket club. When the batting order of the test side is shakier than the Karachi Stock Exchange on a normal day and cricket trainers are hired as cricket coaches at Rs 300,000 a day (as if there is no ex-Pakistan cricket player to teach the louts who form the national side), what do you expect? You expect the occasional brilliance because cricket is such a game but by and large you should expect to see what you see all the time. The new solution to Yawar Saeed, Khawaja Mohammad Nasir (yes, the Kashmiri grid grinds on), is a man who would be well advised to keep shut. His latest salvo commenting on the 50 years of cricketing ties between India and Pakistan is a tribute to the man’s wisdom and maturity. He states that India is afraid of losing to Pakistan, which is why it refuses to play.There is no other reason he adds. This should do wonders for restoring the troubled ties that have marred cricketing relations between the two nations. The Brigadier has a history of misdemeanors and other equally injudicious statements that have caused problems far and wide. That he should be the manager makes perfect sense in a twisted world. As for the President’s faith in his buddy being the best man to handle cricket, well that speaks volumes as well. This is accountability in its most pristine (and starched since the khakis love that so much) form. As for the World Cup, which is another tournament, but given the status of the Holy Grail here, just forget it. This is a shaky, irresponsible and idiotic side given more to bragging and less to application, led by a board, which should have gone home long, long ago. But this is life which means they are here to stay and we are here to endure further humiliation and teeth grinding. Suck more sugarcane as the translation goes.

Cricket is a lost cause and so it seems is Pakistan. I am afraid that the sight of so much facial hair on the front pages of the nation’s newspapers is giving me the shakes. You can’t open any page without these very big men –and I mean really very big men, with massive growths that descend in waves to their massive and I assume equally hairy chests and all the way left, right and center, embracing other men with equally the same geography and geology. If they are not deeply entranced in bear hugs – an appropriate expression I must add, they are popping cholesterol-laden sweet bombs into each other’s cavernous mouths while more facial-hairs watch with grins wider than the Tora Bora caves. The sight of Prime Minister elect (ye gods have you no mercy?) Maulana Fazalur Rehman with his funky yellow-patch trademark headgear, grey-black streaky facial tresses, flanked by what seems to be a henna-streaked Maulana Shah Ahmed Noorani (with a ‘pan’ streaked mouth?) ‘holding’ a press conference together – mercifully the newspapers refrained from informing readers precisely how they were holding it, is a sight that inspires in much the same manner as watching a nuclear missile ready to go. While some of us may be stunned into silence, my driver, a man of few words who hails from Bannu, asked me what would Maulana Fazalur Rehman do as Prime Minister since he knows nothing about nothing. He added that it would have been best had he stayed put in his Madrassa since that is all he knows.

While we are promised good times ahead should the Maulana and his cobbled-together party lead the riot, what justice or visionary policies do you expect from people who still believe that the earth is flat? The Maulanas have promised all the rights for women under the Shariah but who will interpret the Shariah? Ha, ha, ha. In the end we all know that their brand of rights is not going to send women into raptures. They will firmly place women where they truly believe they should be – and since this is a family newspaper, one cannot go into details. Of course the country will be rid of the curse of interest while those who freely practice usury belong to the areas where the MMA finds its support – that is mere coincidence though. How we will run the country without interest is not a matter to worry about since the World Bank and IMF will be told to take a hike as we can manage quite well without them. This simplistic Stone Age thinking is the most awe-inspiring thing about the MMA - and the boys are just getting warmed up. In due course, we will also be informed that the English language being a tool of the infidels , will be banned – perhaps it is just as well that The British Council hightailed it while they still had the time. As for getting rid of other decadent and evil western ways, the MMA may find its first years full of hectic activity as they go about identifying western style WCs and urinals – these will have to go since you can’t stand and urinate just as you can’t sit and defecate. In the latter case, please squat and in the former, please sit. A trifle difficult to manage with a lounge suit, but the government – yes it is still here, has solved that just in time. As for toilet paper, perhaps the R&D boys in Packages might like to look into toilet-rolled stones in three sizes; mini, standard and jumbo. There is a new market emerging, mark my words.

The arrival of the beards in numbers and shapes that would have been dismissed last month as poppycock – an unfortunate word since its two halves have a lot to do with the party in question, is a direct consequence of the blighted thinking that mars the few grey cells that are still in existence in the national capital – I forget the name temporarily. At this time last year, the General was chasing the fundos all over the country and getting somewhere. A year later, they are chasing him and in the process, we who had no part in the first decision are lumped with a bleak future in which we surely will have no part. You can’t even run abroad any more because we are the pariahs of the world and this is while we are the staunchest supporters of that mad moron from Texas and his warped vision of terror and freedom. What will happen were to deviate from being His Master’s Voice is even more horrific than the beards. Of course when the S hits the fan, apart from getting distributed equally, it will still fall heavily on us because those who have made hay while the sun was shining would have long departed for sunnier climes and we would still be here roughing it out. Pass me the henna, Jeeves.