POiSON WORLD

Last week, I was part of a momentous, historic occasion. I was watching Tahir-ul-Qardri Revolution. And when our PM agreed on the terms.Almost immediately, the crowd went into raptures. People young and old hugged and kissed one another, started dancing, communists and Islamists began to engage in consensual copulation.

Now we will have CNG, Electrcity, Food for everyone ,Petorl rates will go down, We will now capture those NAA-MAALOOUM AFRAAD ( UN-KNOWN PEOPLE ) who kill people on streets , in rally by blast and then get disappears.

Oh no wait, that was the fantasy I concocted after reading what all of the Pakistani corner of the blogosphere had to say on the events in Islamabad.

Which is surprising, because the more appropriate Pakistani reaction to the event should have been “Been there, Done that.”

Yet it seems that all of us are afflicted with the sort of short-term memory loss which only a prolonged usage of opiates can bring upon.

But in either case, a simple visit to google would have reminded the Sons of Revolution that Pakistan has not only been always “with it” when it comes to global revolution fads, it has actually been ahead of its time in the latest version.

And yet, without ever considering these stone-cold events of reality, there are those complaining that Pakistan’s revolutions are fake, reactionary, chaotic, and futile.

Anyone making this claim seems to forget that traditionally, revolutions involve lots of blood shed, lots of chaos and violence.
Luckily nothing such happen and I am so much glad about it. There where women and children in serve cold with open sky on there head.

I would say the Revolution was not fake. But the way it turned and ended was seem to be fake and pre-planned.People were realy, there try was real, there hope was real. But it sort of got failed.

Have you seen another side of the revolution. The things favor in government nothing else.

What We want is justice.

Butstill, we Pakistanis act like the crazed Mom visiting Shaadi.com, convinced that someone better out there exists for their molly-coddled ideals of revolution and freedom.

So the obvious question is – why do we do this?

The answer lies in a t-shirt.

The one I wore in the prime of my youthful naivety, the one that so many others have also bought in similar moments. You know the t-shirt, the one with the black-and-white picture of a forgotten revolutionary looking really damn hot? You know, this t-shirt. The t-shirt we all bought believing that wearing it would somehow proclaim us as intellectual radicals, a t-shirt which would deliver us from injustices and a t-shirt which would redress inequity while still giving us time to party. The t-shirt which was little different from any other sold at Voo Doo Tees or Zainab Market, the t-shirt which allowed all of us to buy into a culture of heady literature, rousing rock, timeless slogans, and the t-shirt which allowed us to pretend that all revolutions were as simple, rewarding and comforting as the joy of wearing a cotton t-shirt on a warm day.

The t-shirt which would make us Che Guevara.

The irony being of course, that we all succeeded into turning in to Che, just not in the language we had intended to be.