Jibran Nasir, A lawyer, activist and an independent politician. In 2013, he was listed by the Foreign Policy Magazine amongst three Pakistanis doing inspirational work against sectarian violence. He blogs at theindusripple.blogspot.com and tweets @MJibranNasir (twitter.com/MJibranNasir) This is the story of an average Pakistani. I lose my temper at the drop of a hat and end up saying really nasty things to my friends and family. I also back bite a lot about people who support me, employ me and are my friends. I use a lot of swear words and do not think twice before spitting pan, throwing trash or even taking a leak in a corner in public. I am usually the first one to point out other people’s faults and mostly the last to admit my own. I have pronounced my grandmother dead seven times; the first four times I wanted a day off from school and the other two times, I did not want to go to office. The one last time she actually did die. I have made a lot of my female friends and peers uncomfortable because of my sexist views and I most certainly have also objectified women. But then again, I condone a society which accepts a rapist as its own more easily as opposed to a rape victim. In fact, I cannot say for sure if any woman besides my own mother and sister feels safe trusting me. I do not think my wife has the right to decide how many children she should have or whether she should study or work after marriage. While shivering in this chilly winter, I judge the intentions of the half naked child begging for money claiming that he is hungry. I hate the fact that my boss does not get that I need leave because my mom is unwell and I really do not get why my driver also has to take a leave because his wife is unwell – he must be making an excuse just to chill at home. I also need to give gifts to my new friends on their birthday but I am sure my cook – who has been taking care of me since I was a child – can use my dad’s old clothes. I condemn the corrupt government and bureaucracy, but am the first one to suggest the Traffic Police to take bribe whenever I run a red light, which appears to be a national hobby. I hate all politicians, but I will vote for the one who either belongs to my ethnicity or my sect. I never have and most probably never will read his manifesto. Similarly on religious issues, I associate credibility to the gentleman with the longest beard and who prescribes to the same conditions of loving Allah (SWT) and the Prophet Muhammad (pbuh) and his companions and his family members as my father does. I never really read the whole Quran or any of the books on Hadith with translations. Maybe I did when I was under ten years of age, but when I actually grew old enough to form personal views and perspective, I did not bother reading it again. Accordingly, I love calling the other sect Kafir because that automatically makes me a Momin. I also hold a personal grudge against certain ethnicities without any cogent reason, even though I continue to make friends with or be employed by people belonging to those ethnicities. I refuse to live or even learn to live within my means. I love using the word “haram” for everyone driving a more expensive car than mine. I proudly declare myself a citizen of a country which made all laws subject to Islam and enforced it in such a way that it made minorities scared to even question these laws without fearing for their lives. I raise havoc on the streets, seeking justice for Aafia because she is a Muslim and I celebrated the murder of the man who wanted to protect Aasia because she was not. I publicly love abusing America and the West for their drones and conspiracies, but I do not even secretly protest my country’s dependence on their aid and goodwill; in fact, I want an American passport and I do not want Americans to stop supplying us F-16 because we need them to take down India. I love vandalising public and private property whenever I am enraged, even if I am angry because the public is suffering, which ironically is mostly the case. In every aspect of my life, I myself insult your memory but still I proclaim that:“Namoos-e-Risalat per jaan bhi qurban hai.” Dear Prophet Muhammad (pbuh), I would love to die for your honour any day but strangely I am not willing to make an effort to live like you for a single day. I hope you still keep praying for your Ummah; God knows we need it.
The Express Tribune