Tuesday, 8 December, 2020
06 COMMENT
Who am I?
Opposition should be brought to negotiating table Denying it the right to hold rallies won’t help
Some thoughts on identity
T
oDAY the top leadership of the PDM meets to consider its strategy after the December 13 rally. The address to PML-N’s media team by former PM Nawaz Sharif and PML-N vice president Maryam Nawaz was meant to prepare party activists for the struggle ahead. Ms Maryam Nawaz again hinted at PDM parliamentarians tendering resignations en masse. The decision will only be taken if other parties in the alliance also agree to the move. Another important PPP leader maintained that even resignations by over 100 MNAs would force the government to hold general elections instead of going for disputed by-elections. This shows that PDM could call on its MNAs alone to resign not requiring this from its provincial assembly members as was done by the PTI in 2014. Another proposal is to march on Islamabad and then hold a prolonged sit-in. Presumably the ongoing nearly two week long dharna by Indian formers outside New Delhi has inspired some of the PDM components. There has also been talk about a ‘jail bharo movement’ in PDM’s ranks. Today marks exactly the beginning of the third month of PDM agitation. Those who matter need to realize the dangerous implications of a prolonged and increasingly heightened confrontation in the country. on Monday the NCoC was told that the national positivity rate had been recorded at 9.71 per cent as Covid-19 cases across the country continue to soar. Within 24 hours 3,795 cases had been reported in the country— the highest since July 2 with thirty seven mortalities from the virus in the same period. The national economy is already in bad shape as shown among other indicators by the number of return filers declining by 23pc for the tax year 2020. The increase this year in cross LoC hostilities reveals increased Indian aggressiveness. PTI government has repeatedly insisted that it will not enter into a dialogue on an NRo which it claims is all that the opposition wants despite vehement denials by the latter. The situation on all the three fronts-health, economy and security- could worsen if the opposition is forced into further confrontation. A way out needs to be found to resolve the issues raised by the opposition through talks.
HASAN AFTAB SAEED
This is the manuscript for a lecture originally prepared to kickstart an interactive session with engineering sophomores as part of their community service course. The session could not be held because of scheduling difficulties.
W
ho am I? As a fundamental question, this ranks right up there with Shakespeare’s ‘To be or not to be’. Descartes’s cogito assures one of one’s existence, but it gives no clue as to what one is. Bulleh Shah’s ‘Ki jaanan main kaun’ raises the same question, but Bullah then proceeds to list all the things he is not. Being a poet, he can get away with being rhetorical. This is a luxury the ordinary mortal does not have. So which aspect – your work, your body, your thoughts, your associations – is your ‘I’, your identity? This ‘you’ is not something static; it is constantly changing. heraclitus informs us that you can never step in the same river twice, because it is not the same ‘you’ on the second occasion. So, who is this ‘you’ that continually keeps evolving into something else? This question about identity, which has been
Criminal negligence KP hospital deaths should not go unpunished
W
INTERS tend to overwhelm hospitals even in the most common of circumstances with the flu season leading to complicated respiratory diseases that affect the most vulnerable, leading to a higher than usual demand for oxygen. Apart from this, the country is currently facing a destructive second wave of the Covid-19 pandemic at the moment, a virus which violently attacks the lungs causing severe pneumonia and as such hospitals would ideally be expected to maintain a more than adequate supply of oxygen. The death of seven patients, six of whom were suffering from the coronavirus, at Khyber Teaching hospital (KTh) in KP due to the unavailability of oxygen is therefore an unforgivable case of criminal negligence. That a government is on one hand advising the public to observe Covid-19 protocols and on the other cannot even guarantee an uninterrupted supply of oxygen at a public hospital that could save a critical patient’s life, is quite shameful. As is typical in such instances, the administrative staff of the hospital has been suspended with no action at the ministerial level. Prime Minister Imran Khan is on record, speaking after a train crash back when he was in the opposition, demanding the resignation of then Railways Minister Saad Rafique, stating how had it been the UK, the minister would resign and an inquiry would be launched. By this standard, shouldn’t the KP CM demand the resignation of the province’s health Minister Taimur Khan Jhagra for such an avoidable tragedy? Rampant hypocrisy across the board will of course not allow that to happen. The oftrepeated excuse that the government has not been in power in the province for long enough to bring about considerable change does not apply here as the PTI has been running KP for seven and a half years straight, which is longer than any other party in the history of the province. The role of the PM’s cousin Dr Nausherwan Burki, tasked with reforming KP’s health system comes into question. Apart from the obvious nepotism, there is clearly a level of incompetence that has become a trademark of the PTI. Although an inquiry has been ordered, it remains to be seen if any meaningful action is taken against those at the top who should also be held accountable.
Avoid falling in love MoHAMMAD KHAliD BHATTi
W
hAT makes me sick more than talk of studies, exams, passing and failing is the talk of falling in love...Fortunately there is no dearth of heartbreaks in the world, so, I rejoice when I get to know that I’m not the only one who has this disposition of avoiding this subject at all costs. Love is such a popular subject for debate that authors and playwrights never find it difficult to talk at length about two lovers destined to fail, or about the society that is hell bent on making these two miserable wretches’ life more miserable. The deplorable lives of Romeo and Juliet hardly need a mention as both ultimately died when their families wouldn’t allow them to live as one. Not trying to sound sarcastic, but they actually died! occasionally, society pushes a character to the point where he turns into what is now referred to as an ‘anti-hero’. heathcliff from Emily Bronte’s Wuthering heights’ is another failed lover. There are far more books of failed lovers than actual success stories that fill the dilapidated ‘Romance’ section in libraries; just another reason why one should avoid this stingy genre. Before I proceed, one should keep in mind that there is no age of falling in love. one can be quite young, in the bloom of youth, or even on the deathbed when he confesses his desire for a significant other (Adolf hitler got married some 12 hours before his planned death!). Love is like a cool breeze that can come out of nowhere and hit you hard. It could reach you when the sun is at its zenith or during the wee hours of dawn. It could hit you during your job or while you’re a student. For me, it was the latter. I was in Class 4 and was burgeoning with enthusiasm at the ripe age of 9. I was part of the student council and she was the class monitor; ideal match. We used to gossip about Disney characters when we weren’t discussing our homework. Unlike my good grade in English, her grammar wasn’t very good. Needless to say, this grammar deficit brought us closer. She wore a red
Arif Nizami Editor Umar Aziz
Asher John
Joint Editor
Executive Editor
Deputy Editor
Lahore – Ph: 042-36300938, 042-36375965
I have a feeling many of you will feel that I have said a lot about what your identity is not and not nearly enough on what it is. Well, it is not my place to decide for anybody else what his identity is, or ought to be. I am afraid this is one question you must grapple with and answer for yourself. And no, ‘borrowing’ it from the guy seated next to you will not do either.
A juvenile love story
Dedicated to the legacy of the late Hameed Nizami
Aziz-ud-Din Ahmad
puzzling man from the earliest philosophers, is still very much a current issue today, at least as far as thoughtful men are concerned. It is not at all easy to answer. An anecdote will best illustrate the difficulty: A friend (let us call him Z) who works for a major media corporation (let us call it G) was introduced by one of his friends to a group of guests in these words: ‘This is Z. he works for G.’ Being a perfect gentleman, Z was civility itself while the guests were there; but afterwards he told his friend in no uncertain terms that he was not impressed with the way he had been introduced to the strangers. Was his affiliation with this organization all his friend could think of by way of his identity, he wanted to know. ‘What if I quit my job tomorrow? Would that leave me with no identity?’ he demanded. The hapless friend (who is not much of a philosopher) had no answers to these questions. on a different occasion a few months later, another friend (who was present during the earlier episode) had the onerous task of introducing Z to somebody. he had already said, ‘This is Z. he…’ before he realized that mentioning the employer would be a bad idea. After hesitating for a moment, he completed the sentence: ‘… he skips lunch and does not believe in God,’ regaining control in spectacular fashion. The person to whom these immortal lines were said apparently had a sense of humour. ‘I get the not-believing-in-God part, but what do you have against lunch, sir?’ he quipped. The day was saved thanks to some quick thinking, but the story illustrates the difficulties one encounters while thinking of identity. What are we really, stripped of all these sundry layers corresponding to the different aspects of our lives (occupation, associations, etc.)? According to one view, these layers are all that
I
Karachi – Ph: 021-35381208-9
I
we are. That trying to take them off, one by one, with the intention of seeing the real ‘I’ is akin to peeling away the layers of an onion to try and view the ‘real’ onion inside, because there is no onion left after all the layers have been removed. This makes a lot of sense, but so many of the things usually thought to be associated with one’s identity have more to do with happenstance: language, traditions, ancestry, etc. When we refer to identity in a narrow sense (as we are doing here) it implies something unique to the person, and which is not a chance occurrence. You do not inherit or chance upon your identity. Moreover, identity is certainly not the same thing as celebrity or public recognition (as is often thought). Although your identity includes how others see you, it is more about how you see yourself. I have a feeling many of you will feel that I have said a lot about what your identity is not and not nearly enough on what it is. Well, it is not my place to decide for anybody else what his identity is, or ought to be. I am afraid this is one question you must grapple with and answer for yourself. And no, ‘borrowing’ it from the guy seated next to you will not do either. The most that can generally be suggested regarding your identity is that whatever else it may be; it is inexorably intertwined with your creativity, for your creativity makes you unique. It is a common error to associate creativity with geniuses alone. one does not need to be a Newton to be able to exercise one’s creativity. Each one of us is creative by birth, and every field of vocation as well as avocation offers plenty of opportunities for most everybody to express his creativity. Failing to be creative, then, is surrendering a major part of one’s identity. Iqbal probably had this in mind when in Javid Nama he goes as far as labeling as unappreciative ingrates those who choose not to lay claim to their share in man’s creative potential.
ribbon and I adorned a red tie (both were part of the class uniform). But for us, it was just one of the many traits that we shared. I lived in street 5 and she was in street 15. I always brought an extra pencil for her and she had the habit of bringing an eraser for me. Even while playing with other girls in the playground, she always kept an eye on me to check if I was flirting with the other girls. To put it succinctly, she was very possessive. At least that’s was what I liked to think... So, one day we decided to step things up a bit and bring our classroom romance to the playground. Both of us decided that we would meet during recess one day. The thing about love is that one just can’t get enough of the other. As Friday had a longer recess (by 10 minutes), we agreed that Friday was the day that suited us best. our tiny brains cherished every minute we spent together. hence, we decided that I would be the crisps and biscuits and she would bring the drinks (grape juice for me) and orange for her. The next few days were the longest days of my life. Every day we used to look at each other across the aisle and blush like a Worcestershire orchard before harvest. Then there is this fluttering sensation called butterflies in one’s tummy. Thus, those few days were very long for both of us. Again, that’s what I thought. Come Friday, it was D-Day. I walk very confidently to my class and eagerly looked around for her. She’s not there. She’s nowhere for that matter! The first thought that ran across my optimistic mind was that maybe she’s getting ready for the big day and would join me later. Giggling to myself and wreaking of half a bottle of perfume and one quarter of my father’s aftershave, I haughtily went towards my chair and sat down calmly. Maybe she was getting her hair dyed. She looked amazing with a golden streak and her pearly
Islamabad – Ph: 051-2204545
The author is a connoisseur of music, literature, and food (but not drinks). He can be reached at www.facebook.com/hasanaftabsaeed
white teeth (all milk teeth of course). Another possibility was that her mother (also a huge crush of mine), might be giving her the finishing touches for her big day. All the delightful scenarios made me euphoric and I went on with the regular classes. The bell rang and along with all of the boys, I went for lunch. Being raised the gentleman I was, I went to the cafeteria (it was more of a canteen) and bought the crisps and biscuits with my pocket money and began to wait at the selected spot which both of us had chosen. I was a stone bench under an old orange tree, right in front of the lawn. But, she was missing. The seconds turned to minutes and the minutes passed swiftly. She was nowhere to be found. half of the time I was looking at the clock and the other half, I was glancing at the gate. She never came. optimism turned to pessimism and this soon took form of rage. I even had a brawl with a class 3 student that day. That brawl ended when both us threatened each other that we’ll inform our elder brothers who will then take care of the matter (both the brothers were imaginary) If I had had access to a good bar at that time, I’d have spent the entire melancholy weekend over there. Instead, I gulped down chocolate ice-cream and a lot of Nestle cerelac. When I returned to school, I was a changed man (still 9 years old). With the characteristic slow gait of a Byronic hero, I entered the classroom and expected everyone to steer clear of my way. I had grown sulky, learnt a few good English curses (one rhymes with duck), and had adopted an indifferent demeanor. When I finally sat on my desk, a friend of hers came over and in a consoling fashion, whispered in my ear, ‘She has left the school, and has shifted permanently to the US.’ Since then, I have developed the propensity to stay away from love and I abhor, disdain and view with contempt any remote insinuation or even reference to love.
Love is like a cool breeze that can come out of nowhere and hit you hard. It could reach you when the sun is at its zenith or during the wee hours of dawn. It could hit you during your job or while you’re a student.
I
Web: www.pakistantoday.com.pk
I
The writer is a fourth year MBBS student and can be reached at mohammadkhalid1099@gmail.com
Email: editorial@pakistantoday.com.pk
