Pakistan through the looking glass

Photo by Mike Hanna, Al Jazeera English

Sitting in class going through the day as I normally would, my thoughts were violently interrupted by an ear shattering noise. The glass from the windows around me crashed to the ground. I was engulfed by complete chaos.

Stepping outside into the courtyard did little to help me put things into perspective. The crowd of scared students thickened and the rumours began to spread.

A naval college one block away from my university had been hit by a suicide bomber. The attacker rammed a truck-full of C4 explosives into a parade of naval cadets causing a blast so big it shook the foundations of the building I was in. Lahore had been struck by a terrorist attack again.

The definition of when a country is at war has changed immensely over the years. It no longer simply refers to armies engaging in battle far from civilian settlements; now war is amongst us. We cannot put a face to it as there are no discerning factors between the enemy and normal civilians; they hide, they blend and they destroy.

This is a reality most Pakistanis have come to terms with over the last few years and these drastic changes have disturbed the routines of millions all over the country. Checkpoints have been set up all across cities, grid-locking traffic for miles. Commutes that usually took twenty minutes now take two hours.

All this, together with the country’s failing economy and lack of basic necessities such as fuel, electricity and even sugar, has immensely frustrated the nation. Though there is little tolerance for any protest in the form of rioting, a lack of initiative means no proper measures are being taken to address the unrest. People who are worst affected by it all lack the power and representation to have their voices heard.

New horror stories emerge each day; teachers gang-raping a tenth grade student, at least forty people dying in terrorist attacks or violent civil disagreements in a line of four hundred people waiting for sugar.

These stories and other stories made me feel that the country I lived in is dying. Our society is diseased and eating away at itself from the inside. The ruling classes witness this everyday but have managed to desensitize themselves so much so that the bubble they live in gets stronger with each incident.

As the country declines further, more money and effort is spent by them to reinforce their bubble – whether it is generators that kick in automatically during a power outage or investments abroad that ensure a way out when the country finally implodes.

Before I came to London for my postgraduate, I, myself, lived in such a bubble. After setting foot here I slowly began digesting the new reality of a progressive world. A hole was pricked in my bubble and my whole world came splashing down around me. It is easy to wear blinkers in order to shield yourself from harsh realities but this only increases your ignorance of the truth.

Moving away from home was like taking a blindfold off. Living so far from home with all my loved ones being thousands of miles away in a war zone, I realize the magnitude of what is actually happening and the harrowing reality of it all. London became for me a world where initiative is taken by its people to implement a positive change when things seem to be going awry.

As a Pakistani I would love to list all of my country’s redeeming qualities – which it does possess. But the current quagmire my beloved homeland is sinking in should not be disguised. It is time for us to emerge from our bubbles face the reality that is knocking at our door. Only in this way, can we find the cure for the disease that is devouring Pakistan.