Truly messed up

DECEMBER 1996 - The last time I ever heard anyone at a dinner discussing anything other than the sordid state of affairs in the country was so long ago that I cannot even begin to remember it. Of course there was a time when civilized people could gather of an evening and talk about things that matter and lend meaning to our lives, but that time has sadly passed away into oblivion and all we are left with is a nation that doesn’t know where it’s coming from or where it’s going, and more importantly, doesn’t care either.

Most dinner parties, big or small, now have nothing to talk about other than the national confusion that reigns supreme. In fact so long has this state of affairs lasted that it is not possible to recall when were we not confused. Most evenings now open with ‘what’s going on?’ and since there is never any concrete and solid answer to set doubts at rest, this opener merely heralds another evening of chasing shadows and elusive ghosts. There are those who nod their heads at whatever comes their way. They are not fazed by any disclosure, be it the latest ‘who blew Zia ul Haq’s C-130’ theory or ‘is the baby girl Imran Khan’s daughter from Sita White’ (what else could she have been ? Brown ?). They usually have nothing to add to whatever they hear, except to give an almost bored, I-know-it-all look or just as often, so-who-cares look. The listeners at the parties run into various categories, other than the ones above. There are those who will always negate whatever is being said. It is customary for them to always let you know how wrong you are and how false your ‘scoop’ information piece is, because didn’t you know, they know best and they know it all. So if you, or anyone else who reside in the living rooms of the chattering classes, should come up with the latest on where the Khan’s funding is coming, be prepared to hear the inside, inside dope on that question. Somehow these people know everything, most often their information being far more knowledgeable than that of the person directly concerned. This great knowledge is shared with the gathering with cool disdain and an air of nonchalance.

Most parties where the country’s blighted finances and its utter and total moral degradation are discussed between sips of the stuff that cheers, are infected by another variety of Pakistanis who thrive on the fine art of innuendo (which believe me is not the Italian translation for suppositories). This lot will drop a bombshell without batting an eyelid and move away leaving you gasping for breath or lying on the floor in a heap. Somehow they are always in touch with the very people who control the destiny of this nation and are therefore always in a position to tell you exactly what happened and where. Their lodes of information gems are spiced with, ‘and then I said to Farooq (Leghari): surely you don’t mean that Farooq and he said of course I do and I said that is nonsense and Farooq said you know you are right.’ After that onslaught it would take a very brave man or woman to counter anything that is said. Name dropping is not an art with these people. It is a trade. So ‘I told BB what the hell are you doing. Get a rein on to Asif. He has gone too far,’ and she said, ‘I know yaar but what to do,’ and that takes care of you for the rest of the evening. It would be a foolish person who would dare to ask, ‘how do you know BB?’ because that would be unthinkable. The same people will tell you that they were talking to BB one minute before the army took over the PM’s house on 4th November and ‘would you believe it she didn’t know a thing.’ You better believe it.

There are other varieties of super-informed Pakistanis who throng dinner parties and make sure everyone within earshot (and beyond) hear what they are saying. It is, as you may guess, the last word on any subject, and it usually entails the comings and goings of foreign diplomats and the geo-political shuffling of factors about which only your kind speaker knows anything. Thus, if Malik Meraj Khalid is inaugurating Pakistan’s first donkey-driven carts (yellow donkeys -Mian Sahib or green donkeys-Benazir) aimed to create job opportunities for the unemployed (99%), your dinner guest will be able to put it in the right perspective by reminding you what Henry Kissinger said last month about Pakistan while talking to the European press in Brussels. They will also be able to collate with absolutely no effort, most local events that make no sense by simply fixing international tags to them. Thus, corruption here is linked with the geo-political shift of the US government in this area now that they are far more interested in Bhutan. Similarly, the latest Indian advance in Sindh’s border areas is easily explained because the Chinese are pushing the Indians in Ladakh. Yes ? Of course.

Gone are the days when you could spend an evening talking about the new novel Le Carre had written or the new version of Wuthering Heights you had seen or the Indian’s marvellous tele-serial on the life of Ghalib. No music can be discussed any longer except perhaps the most trite and no fine arts can be talked about. None of that is relevant or in fashion.. Instead it is the most commonplace doings of nincompoops that rule most evenings. As the chaos grows and as the election dates get closer, the irrelevance mounts. There is no escape from it.