Pakistan Today
By Rabia Ahmed
By Rabia Ahmed
Monday, 22 Apr 2013
It’s all about being a superhero
The Kaptaan does have an enormous following in Lahore. In the rural areas however, he has but a dim presence (mind you, given the load shedding, nothing is bright any way). The rurals are likely to vote for whoever they are commanded to by the landlords.
Most people you see have no idea of what their electoral duties are. Or if they do, they’d rather vote for the more expedient candidate, one who shares an interest (however slight) in the uplift of their area, and in the people who live in it. But then no one has an idea of what their duties are. Why else would Mr Sethi, as interim chief minister, be trying to restart Basant, or the judiciary interfering so much in what doesn’t concern it?
Each person is acting to a self image, something akin to a superhero.
In Imran’s mind’s eye he is a patriarch with an interest in cricket, a role fostered by being the only brother of several sisters. Had he not been interested in politics he may have run the local cricket club and in time become balla chacha, the white haired owner who pats kids on the head and gives them candy if they do well, a paddling if they drop too many catches. Unfortunately in his mind’s eye the patriarch also presides over the village jirga. I’m not sure what should be done about that propensity, but maybe wisdom will come with time.
There’s Shahbaz Sharif, who perceives himself astride a roaring lion vibrating between many different projects, the lynchpin without which all those projects would fall apart. Sometimes he sees himself teaching the local populace how to mount and dismount escalators, and every time he goes up one side of the road and comes down the other side via escalators that work, the citizenry rushes forward to garland him, trampling over paper mills and reducing them to dust in its eagerness.
Nawaz Sharif almost always sees himself in the same role, which privately rather annoys him: he sees himself issuing sweeping orders to close down all cricket clubs in the country, threatening to come down (heavily) on anyone playing the sport. It is an inexplicable role for someone otherwise so passionate about cricket. Otherwise, though, he sees himself as a marble statue, also astride a lion, one pudgy hand out flung and pointing in the direction of Ittefaq Hospital. Oh and on his head he wears a halo, which on close inspection proves to be a mushroom shaped cloud composed of tiny circling electrons.
Altaf Bhai automatically sees himself (and he can’t explain why) either as a marshmallow, or a spider in the centre of a large, sticky web. Otherwise he imagines his face plastered on every wall, dimple side foremost, one hand held up like a dike against which a wall of Taliban has flattened itself. Most voters like this last image best unfortunately they also see him as sitting on a slightly gruesome pile of persons holding aloft an automatic rifle.
Asfandyar Wali Khan is aka Wally because as one does with Wally people are wondering where he is at present. But times are tough and they have been particularly tough for Wally considering his anti-Taliban rhetoric, so perhaps he will surface in time and play a greater role with his party in future, preferably without his current partners.
There are other bit players, and one of them is of course Mr Musharraf, whose role sadly landed him in greater trouble than he bargained for. He saw himself exploding through a VIP lounge, whilst a grateful populace wept and shouted in welcome. It didn’t. It is unclear whether his detention at his farm is meant to serve as a punishment or a public example but from where the bulk of Pakistan’s population stands it is neither; how can it be, with a home like that with free food thrown in?
The simplest role is that of Asif Ali Zardari nee Bhutto. It’s odd because although he has never read Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland he sees himself most often as a Cheshire Cat. He dreams of the day when he can safely replace the roti kapra makaanmotto with, ‘It doesn’t matter which way you go, so long as you’re paid for it.’
When questioned about it, he vanishes, then reappears again and this time vanishes quite slowly beginning with the tail and ending with the grin which remains some time after the rest of him is gone.
‘Well! We’ve often seen a cat without a grin,’ we think, ‘but a grin without a cat! It’s the most curious thing of all!’
Which kind of describes the PPP without Benazir, but that’s another story altogether.
The Kaptaan does have an enormous following in Lahore. In the rural areas however, he has but a dim presence (mind you, given the load shedding, nothing is bright any way). The rurals are likely to vote for whoever they are commanded to by the landlords.
Most people you see have no idea of what their electoral duties are. Or if they do, they’d rather vote for the more expedient candidate, one who shares an interest (however slight) in the uplift of their area, and in the people who live in it. But then no one has an idea of what their duties are. Why else would Mr Sethi, as interim chief minister, be trying to restart Basant, or the judiciary interfering so much in what doesn’t concern it?
Each person is acting to a self image, something akin to a superhero.
In Imran’s mind’s eye he is a patriarch with an interest in cricket, a role fostered by being the only brother of several sisters. Had he not been interested in politics he may have run the local cricket club and in time become balla chacha, the white haired owner who pats kids on the head and gives them candy if they do well, a paddling if they drop too many catches. Unfortunately in his mind’s eye the patriarch also presides over the village jirga. I’m not sure what should be done about that propensity, but maybe wisdom will come with time.
There’s Shahbaz Sharif, who perceives himself astride a roaring lion vibrating between many different projects, the lynchpin without which all those projects would fall apart. Sometimes he sees himself teaching the local populace how to mount and dismount escalators, and every time he goes up one side of the road and comes down the other side via escalators that work, the citizenry rushes forward to garland him, trampling over paper mills and reducing them to dust in its eagerness.
Nawaz Sharif almost always sees himself in the same role, which privately rather annoys him: he sees himself issuing sweeping orders to close down all cricket clubs in the country, threatening to come down (heavily) on anyone playing the sport. It is an inexplicable role for someone otherwise so passionate about cricket. Otherwise, though, he sees himself as a marble statue, also astride a lion, one pudgy hand out flung and pointing in the direction of Ittefaq Hospital. Oh and on his head he wears a halo, which on close inspection proves to be a mushroom shaped cloud composed of tiny circling electrons.
Altaf Bhai automatically sees himself (and he can’t explain why) either as a marshmallow, or a spider in the centre of a large, sticky web. Otherwise he imagines his face plastered on every wall, dimple side foremost, one hand held up like a dike against which a wall of Taliban has flattened itself. Most voters like this last image best unfortunately they also see him as sitting on a slightly gruesome pile of persons holding aloft an automatic rifle.
Asfandyar Wali Khan is aka Wally because as one does with Wally people are wondering where he is at present. But times are tough and they have been particularly tough for Wally considering his anti-Taliban rhetoric, so perhaps he will surface in time and play a greater role with his party in future, preferably without his current partners.
There are other bit players, and one of them is of course Mr Musharraf, whose role sadly landed him in greater trouble than he bargained for. He saw himself exploding through a VIP lounge, whilst a grateful populace wept and shouted in welcome. It didn’t. It is unclear whether his detention at his farm is meant to serve as a punishment or a public example but from where the bulk of Pakistan’s population stands it is neither; how can it be, with a home like that with free food thrown in?
The simplest role is that of Asif Ali Zardari nee Bhutto. It’s odd because although he has never read Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland he sees himself most often as a Cheshire Cat. He dreams of the day when he can safely replace the roti kapra makaanmotto with, ‘It doesn’t matter which way you go, so long as you’re paid for it.’
When questioned about it, he vanishes, then reappears again and this time vanishes quite slowly beginning with the tail and ending with the grin which remains some time after the rest of him is gone.
‘Well! We’ve often seen a cat without a grin,’ we think, ‘but a grin without a cat! It’s the most curious thing of all!’
Which kind of describes the PPP without Benazir, but that’s another story altogether.
