Shock. Rage. Gloom. Despair.
The phases I went through during the weekend as the flogging of the 17-year old girl and related opinions were being aired over and over on TV channels.
Shock, that such a thing has been allowed to happen. Shock, that the people's government we have elected after years of dictatorship, a democratically elected parliament with a record majority - this 'people's government' signed the 'peace accord' with the militants that allowed this incident to happen while hundreds stood by and watched.
Rage, that no one could dare to stop it while it was happening. Rage, at the complete helplessness of the woman screaming for mercy. Rage at the utterly sick minds of the men flogging her. Rage, that the Taliban spokesman interviewed felt the punishment was justified and was being made into a big deal unnecessarily.
Gloom, that there are so many others who support this punishment. That some people still believe the tape is 'doctored'. That some feel it is an attempt to jepoardise the peace accord.
Gloom, that there are people who still want to find excuses.
Despair.
At what we have become as a nation.
At where we are headed, if headed anywhere at all.
Someone in the office very rightly said, we should use our nuclear bomb on ourselves. Better to die once and for all than watch our collective soul die bit by bit each passing day.
Monday, April 06, 2009
Friday, February 06, 2009
Sugharean Sath
It's amazing how strongly nostalgic the sense of smell can be sometimes.
Today I went to ada Arshad's (my lawyer cousin) office in Saddar for some informal advice on a corporate issue. As I went inside the building, just beside the stairs some people were unloading stacks of a new magazine issue - that smell of freshly printed magazine paper transported me to over 15 years ago when my mother and aunt got together to launch Sugharean Sath - a Sindhi magazine on women empowerment. For about a year and a half my house was a makeshift office and a storage area for the magazine.
This smell is associated with hard work and courage - the frequent meetings that they used to have with various stakeholders, the constant running around to gather material and pick up articles, endless writing, editing and proof-reading sessions late into the night, letters and mails from readers all over Sindh, the constantly brewing tea, sales and marketing efforts, and towards the end of it all, the tension around the ethnic riots that impacted operations, the ensuing lack of funds and the final stop to the publication work as they ran out of the money they were putting in themselves to sustain the effort.
I would love to be associated one day with a publication - or a similar worthwhile effort with a cause.
Today I went to ada Arshad's (my lawyer cousin) office in Saddar for some informal advice on a corporate issue. As I went inside the building, just beside the stairs some people were unloading stacks of a new magazine issue - that smell of freshly printed magazine paper transported me to over 15 years ago when my mother and aunt got together to launch Sugharean Sath - a Sindhi magazine on women empowerment. For about a year and a half my house was a makeshift office and a storage area for the magazine.
This smell is associated with hard work and courage - the frequent meetings that they used to have with various stakeholders, the constant running around to gather material and pick up articles, endless writing, editing and proof-reading sessions late into the night, letters and mails from readers all over Sindh, the constantly brewing tea, sales and marketing efforts, and towards the end of it all, the tension around the ethnic riots that impacted operations, the ensuing lack of funds and the final stop to the publication work as they ran out of the money they were putting in themselves to sustain the effort.
I would love to be associated one day with a publication - or a similar worthwhile effort with a cause.
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