Quiad

Quaid-e-Azam Muhammad Ali Jinnah

It’s farewell day! Woo! Dazzling women, men and completely confused can seen here, there everywhere. Everyone’s wearing their best possible kapray. Gupshup har koi kar raha hai. There’s a sense of satisfaction in the air since preparations for the upcoming Federal Board exam are already complete.
Lovely atmosphere!
“Bacho! Everyone get seated! We have two special guests today! Chalo shaabaash, undar jaaein saaray. Good children”
Students choose their seats. Gupshup har koi kar raha hai. Hustle bustle. Hulchul. Etcetera.
“OK! Keep quite now. Hushhhhhh!”
Silence gradually envelopes the hall.
Some random student comes up on the stage. He’s the host I guess.
“Respected Faculty, meray bhaiyo aur of course bheno! Salaam! Today we are going to give a splendid farewell to our 10th grade students”
Hooting.
“Yes yes, we know how happy you are to be leaving this weirdo institution” (looks at Principal) no no, I’m just joking! Or maybe not. Or maybe yes. But that is a debatable matter that we will not get into”
He continues,
“Anyhow before my boring classmates start boring you, I would like to welcome three extremely special guests. These are the kind of guests that demand that you stand up to welcome them. Shaabaash, stand up now. Here they come.”
We all stand up, waiting for the supposed three very special guests. In they enter,
IT’S QUAID-E-AZAM? And who’s accompanying him? LIAQUAT ALI KHAN? What’s happening here? ALLAMA IQBAL? Girls are screaming in high-pitchedness, so is Awais (which doesn’t imply I’m a girl… OR DOES IT?). Nobody gets how three dead men are in moving around right in front of our very eyes.
The honorable statesmen get seated on the stage. The table in front of them has a mic. Jinnah adjusts the mic,
“I see you are all stunned. Me, Iqbal & Liaquat really aren’t here. It’s just your inner passion speaking out. Believe me, the Quaid you see here is a figment of your imagination. You may as well be hallucinating.”
Liaquat turns the mic to himself.
“Yes students. Jinnah is right. If you really check my body, the bullet that got me assassinated is still stuck where it hit.”
Some girl shouts,
“LET ME CHECK IT SIR!”
Laughter.
“You may as well beti, but we don’t have time for that… All we have are a few minutes”
They stand up. All eyes are locked onto them.
“The fact is: Pakistan is in distress. And you, the student body needs to stop observing the shameful situation, and do something about it. You, only you can save the country. This is not what I, Iqbal & Liaquat dreamt The Land of The Pure to be…”
One can just feel the junoon pumping up across the entire hall..
A group of students passionately speak out,
“Pakistan ka matlab kya!? La illa ha ill Allah!”
Iqbal speaks,
“There is no doubt that Pakistan is based on that naarah, but that naarah must not be left to wither in the air as words. You must all stand up for your opinion.
Iqbal continues,
“Pakistan is more than just a strong idea. It must become a reality. The strong idea requires strong people. And that must be you. You, and only you my friends. I know that in the field of life, obstacles will tend to stop and scare you, but life is a game of moving ahead inch by inch. These inches are everywhere, you just have to grab the opportunity and move ahead with them”
A wave of emotion sweeps the crowd. I stand up. Someone chants,
“We will reach the other side. WE WILL REACH THE OTHER SIDE! WE WILL CHANGE THE COUNTRY!”
Everyone stands up. Even the Principal stands up. Naareh-baazi everywhere. Everyone runs out of the hall. Someone’s doing the “Zindabad!” naarahs, others the “matlab kya?” ones.
Will you?
—-
The day is past. The students have all walked back to their homes. I sit still in the empty hall. In comes Jinnah. He’s alone this time. His coat’s gray, pant’s crease could have shaved someone’s head off, wrinkles and signs of weakness can be seen on his face
Jinnah takes a seat right besides me. We sit there in silence for quite a bit of time. And then,
“You really inspired them, son”
I turn around,
“Well guess who inspired me, Sir?”
Jinnah smiles. Stands up. Leaves out the door. To my surprise he innocently winks on the way out.
I run after him. Only to see that the hallway behind him is completely empty. He was gone, probably forever. Maybe, I think, he will come back someday to inspire someone else. Because we, as a nation, really need it.

Pakistan. May you live forever.

This article was published in today’s (14th August 2009) Us magazine. Awais Imran wrote it! (yep, that’s me!)

School Farewell!

It’s farewell day! Woo! Dazzling women, men and completely confused can be seen here, there and everywhere. Everyone’s wearing their best possible clothes. Gupshup har koi kar raha hai. There’s a sense of satisfaction in the air since preparations for the upcoming Federal Board exam are already complete.

Lovely atmosphere!

“Bacho! Everyone get seated! We have two special guests today! Chalo shaabaash, undar jaaein saaray. Good children”

Students choose their seats. Gupshup har koi kar raha hai. Hustle bustle. Hulchul.

“OK! Keep quite now. Hushhhhhh!”

Silence gradually envelopes the hall.

Some random student comes up on the stage. He’s the host I guess…

Read the full story, after the break.

“Respected Faculty, meray bhaiyo aur of course bheno! Salaam! Today we are going to give a splendid farewell to our 10th grade students”

Hooting.

“Yes yes, we know how happy you are to be leaving this weirdo institution” (looks at Principal) no no, I’m just joking! Or maybe not. Or maybe yes. But that is a debatable matter that we will not get into”

The Special Guests

He continues,

“Anyhow before my boring classmates start boring you, I would like to welcome three extremely special guests. These are the kind of guests that demand that you stand up to welcome them. Shaabaash, stand up now. Here they come.”

We all stand up, waiting for the supposed three very special guests. In they enter,

IT’S QUAID-E-AZAM? And who’s accompanying him? LIAQUAT ALI KHAN? What’s happening here? ALLAMA IQBAL? Girls are screaming in high-pitchedness, so is Awais (which doesn’t imply I’m a girl… OR DOES IT?). Nobody gets how three dead men are in moving around right in front of our very eyes.

Inspiration

The honorable statesmen get seated on the stage. The table in front of them has a mic. Jinnah adjusts the mic,

Liaquat Ali Khan

Liaquat Ali Khan

“I see you are all stunned. Me, Iqbal & Liaquat really aren’t here. It’s just your inner passion speaking out. Believe me, the Quaid you see here is a figment of your imagination. You may as well be hallucinating.”

Liaquat turns the mic to himself.

“Yes students. Jinnah is right. If you really check my body, the bullet that got me assassinated is still stuck where it hit.”

Some girl shouts,

“LET ME CHECK IT SIR!”

Laughter.

“You may as well beti, but we don’t have time for that… All we have are a few minutes”

They stand up. All eyes are locked onto them.

“The fact is: Pakistan is in distress. And you, the student body needs to stop observing the shameful situation, and do something about it. You, only you can save the country. This is not what I, Iqbal & Liaquat dreamt The Land of The Pure to be…”

One can just feel the junoon pumping up across the entire hall..

A group of students passionately speak out,

“Pakistan ka matlab kya!? La illa ha ill Allah!”

Iqbal speaks,

“There is no doubt that Pakistan is based on that naarah, but that naarah must not be left to wither in the air as words. You must all stand up for your opinion.

Strong Idea

Iqbal continues,

“Pakistan is more than just a strong idea. It must become a reality. The strong idea requires strong people. And that must be you. You, and only you my friends. I know that in the field of life, obstacles will tend to stop and scare you, but life is a game of moving ahead inch by inch. These inches are everywhere, you just have to grab the opportunity and move ahead with them”

A wave of emotion sweeps the crowd. I stand up. Someone chants alongside me,

“We will reach the other side. WE WILL REACH THE OTHER SIDE! WE WILL CHANGE THE COUNTRY!”

Allama Muhammad Iqbal

Allama Muhammad Iqbal

Everyone stands up. Even the Principal stands up. Naareh-baazi everywhere. Everyone runs out of the hall. Someone’s doing the “Zindabad!” naarahs, others the “matlab kya?” ones.

Will you?

—–

May the Force be with you, Pakistan

The day is past. The students have all walked back to their homes. I sit still in the empty hall. In comes Jinnah. He’s alone this time. His coat’s gray, pant’s crease could have shaved someone’s head off, wrinkles and signs of weakness can be seen on his face

Jinnah takes a seat right besides me. We sit there in silence for quite a bit of time. And then,

“You really inspired them, son”

I turn around,

“Well guess who inspired me, Sir?”

Jinnah smiles. Stands up. Leaves out the door. To my surprise he innocently winks on the way out.

I run after him. Only to see that the hallway behind him is completely empty. He was gone, probably forever. Maybe, I think, he will come back someday to inspire someone else. Because we, as a nation, really need it.

Pakistan. May you live forever.

—

Note: This was dreamt quite a few months into my 10th class session. Only a handful of months away from Board exams. Allah has been very kind and has blessed me with A+ grade :) Alhamdolillah!

Note #2: This article was published in today’s (14th August 2009) Us magazine.