Sunday, September 6, 2009

Hard Times


“Now, what I want is, Facts. Teach these boys and girls nothing but facts….Stick to Facts”.
What is a Fact, but the wrecked refuge of Fancy? What is the principle of Fact, but profit and inequality? Why stick to Facts, and shun fancies and sentiments?

Most of us condemn the materialism around us, leaving no space for human expressions and sentiments of love and empathy. Dickens’ Hard Times is also a didactic criticism of the system of education based on Facts and reasons that paved the way for profit-oriented capitalism and utilitarianism. He draws out a plot and characters that we can easily relate to in our own society today.

Capitalism is the new raging phenomena. Dickens exposes its harsh and demoralizing effect on humanity. He laments about the inequality and exploitation of workers. In the wave of Industrial Revolution, the factories got flooded with workers. Though, this brought prosperity to the owners, the ‘Hands’ producing comforts worked in extremely appalling conditions. While it carved out new cities, those humans-turned-robots only breathed denser smoke under the rusted chimneys, engulfed by the ‘serpents of smoke’.

He laments that the owners remained oblivious to the sufferings of the workers and the perils in factories. As we learn that when Louisa went down into Coketown, she was baffled by the ghastly scene it presented. Paradoxically, the utilitarian economists make a never ending list of calculations, trying to maximize profits, through any means possible. They can shrewdly tell ‘how many hands in the mill or how many steam power horses are needed for hundred units of production’. But, these vertigo causing calculations of National Treasury are impotent of measuring the capacity for good or evil, for love or hatred, or for the corrosion of virtue into vice in these oppressed souls.

This is the ruthlessly selfish side of market-spurred capitalism.

However, the owners and the bourgeois have turned a blind eye to the injustices and disharmony of the system. They zealously pursue the education system which promotes it thus, perpetuating the vicious cycle of ever-growing inequalities and reinforcing the status quo. The ‘ologies’ they study day in and out strictly focus on the statistics that leave their minds enervated of affections and sentiments.

Thomas Gradgrind is the founder of education of reason and Facts. He is described as ‘eminently practical’ and he sees things by way of practicality. Sentiments and Imagination are considered delinquency. Dickens has shown this education system to be dehumanizing and bound to collapse. It is against the grain of fanciful nature of mankind. His children are strictly raised under the same system. Gradgrind reproaches Sissy for indulging in fairytales. He proceeds in life with the formula that two by two is four. He tells his students to ‘settle everything by addition, subtraction, multiplication and division, and never wonder!’

He considers things statistically and value by how much profit they can reap. Thus, he statistically makes viable the marriage of his daughter to his friend who is thirty years senior and whom she is incapable of loving. Human nature is a mixture of different sentiments and desires. The happiness of the soul is not only in the material, but in the intangible expressions of sincerity and love. However, this was obscure to Gradgrind who taught complex calculations only and converting them into money.

He formed a mind of rules and lines. But, the heart devoid of humanity! He envisaged a society, where things are ‘settled by the law of supply and demand, where wheat is pinched when it becomes dear’, where fortunes are made at the plight of weak. Thus, the rich gets richer and the poor gets poorer. This is what happens in the pursuit of statistics, of seeing progress in terms of only rates and percentages.

This education made Louisa rebellious while Tom became wayward. Both are extremely dissatisfied with their lives. Tom makes sense of things in a mathematical way. He indulged in gambling and squandered his life away.

However, Louisa is always in search of the one with whom she could share her fancies. While she is at her father’s place, she gazed at fire for long hours morbidly. She was forbidden to yearn for any kind of amusements. Her father makes the marriage proposal of Josiah Bounderby, whom she loathes. When she questions him if she could love Bounderby, Gradgrind draws out all the utilitarian aspects of the marriage. He never quite understands her soul desires. He is more inclined to abide by his devised system. This shows the barriers in Louisa-Gradgrind relationship. The people who had exhausted all their lives and energies cramming Facts could not learn the essences of human relationship. With his unbending utilitarian mind, he asserts the prospects of wealth, name and status, but forgets the imperative i.e. love.

Tom is portrayed as a mercenary. He is derisively named as ‘whelp’. He makes Louisa marry Bounderby so he can get his money through her not valuing the enduring love that she has for him. The feminist world will sue him or simply ram him up the wall when he says to Harthouse that a woman can be married off anywhere, regardless of her will. Her wishes can be sacrificed at the whims of man. When Louisa was no more able to embezzle money from him, he irately disowned her.

Harthouse manages to gain trust of Louisa. She finds him tender and someone who has a luscious heart of feelings. The relationship reaches a near tryst. However, she refrains from going further down the ‘moral staircase’. Here, she cries in distress to her father and blames his system. At last, Gradgrind saw ‘the pride of his heart and the triumph of his system lying, an insensible heap at his feet.’

Conversely, we are filled with sympathy and awed by Stephen and Rachel. In the midst of materialism and hypocrisy, we find these two utterly compassionate beings. Though, fortune is relentless with them. The reader is on the verge of tears at finding Stephen fallen in a mine. Yet, their lives were ornamented with true love, sincerity and sentiments. They stand in stark contrast from those whose souls are cold and impoverished of romance.

In the end, the triumph is of Fancy i.e. Sissy Jupe, who absurdly remarked that she would carpet her room with flowers. The world is not to be ruled by digits and rates. Let’s color it with beautiful emotions and fancies. Let’s wonder and learn about human nature, passions, hopes and fears, struggles, triumphs and defeats, joys and love. Let not the humanity turn into the serpents of smoke!

Saturday, May 2, 2009

Sunburnt


The sun burnt roses in the unmarked streets,
Walls stained with revolutionary graffiti,
and the dark legends of the heroes worshiped.

The child wails in the broken cradle,
Soaring humidity and parched tongues
Hands flail in the shadows,
Plead to end the suffering.

And slowly the sky trickles,
Earth resounds with the rain drops,
Rising conflagration in the hearts,
Search the sky for the fulfillment of promises.

Power lines quiver uncontrollably,
Nail box rattles
Cat’s eyes glowering beneath the rusted Foxy.

Soon, the rain wanes out,
Windows perched yet again,
Eye lids collapse
the world left with commotion...the harsh music.

Saturday, April 18, 2009

Professional Beggary


From the advertisements of the black soaps, to the red Vitz driven by male chauvinists, the low network rates to the long marches, the uncontrollable suicide bombings and to the incessant protests on flogging of Chand Bibi, we survived the uncertain times. Sometimes glad, sometimes gloomy, gleeful, awed.

And sometimes frustrated! How many a times have we stopped our car and found ourselves swarmed by beggars. The whole troop escort you to the shop and then back to ride. You term them as not so needy, good for nothing, and snub them Nasso, but they obstinately stick. Most of us deem them professional beggars, who are just draining their lives and intently not working.
Begging has become nation’s way. The headlines read “Pakistan is Promised $5bn”. Wow, a handsome cheque, most of our nattily dressed politicians are seen gaping. It is beyond Islamabad’s expectations. Rosy days are back. Yet, I felt embarrassed. The President cladding Armani suit, Tissot diamond watch and boots, that makes even the best French designers gush with awe, is begging. What do you call it, Professional Beggary, huh?

Some people say that we carved out this nation solely for economic reasons. At least, this is our revived ideology founding the two nation theory. Now, where is our free and autonomous economic system? That dream has come to ruins with the replenishing of our beggar’s bowl. Being independent economically is what makes us a sovereign nation in the true sense. Otherwise, we are just the puppets. Our strings in the hands of IMF, World Bank, and Friends of Democratic Pakistan, yet another on the list.

Let’s mull over the disastrous and humiliating clauses that we will be obliged to be the beneficiaries of this aid. The conditions that subvert the writ of the state, as done by the terrorists, we rant. We are wheedled to letting it go by the offer of monetary aid.

This aid will cease the day we mistakenly owe our brothers and sisters in Swat and FATA. The day we clamor against the injustices inflicted on them. The day we put our foot down against the drone attacks. The day we react as vehemently against the countless women and children maimed in Swat as we did in Chand Bibi’s case. But no, we are paid. We thrive on it. We will hail the present trend to restock our bank accounts.

Once again, we as a nation are cashing in, as we cashed in on Afghanistan War. Now, we are capitalizing on our own brothers and sisters. At least remind those at the helm of the affairs the selfish slogan “Pakistan First”. What will our next patriotic slogan be “Punjab First”?
Moreover, how much of this aid will actually proliferate to the masses after the profligacy of those who receive it. Or will it be spent on only lavish parties, Rolce Royce, decorating the palaces and trips abroad?

This is avaricious. An Embarrassment and Indignation. Yes, our economy might be inflating but our souls are dying. There maybe more street lights, but our hearts will steep more into shadows. There maybe more luxurious and topnotch gadgets being imported into our country, yet our manners will remain like those of pagans.

It is time that we build ourselves financially, but on our own terms. Our foremost focus should be the subsistence level of the population and reducing luxury goods ,to say the least. We should rely more on our local products. Though, this demands immense sacrifices but this will make a profitable and autonomous economic structure in the long run.

This is a time of reform, of breaking the old chains, the old bigotry and the corrupt and fraudulent practices infested in our country. It is time we think not as individuals but shift our paradigm to country level. Think with Self Respect!

Monday, March 30, 2009

What Bothers Me?


Aggression is in the name of Salvation,
False is leading the world,
Rights of poor violated and trampled,
Down is the dark despair and above is the Supreme forgotten.

This is what bothers me.

Little hands toiling hard in the sun,
Children are suffering dreadful starvation,
You call it cruelty and it is true,
But there is nothing we will do.

This is what bothers me.

Life is short and time is running out,
Lofty expectations pinned to me,
The hidden face behind the mask,
And the procrastination before the last mile.

This is what bothers me.

Destructive criticisms are dampening my spirit.
The sacrifices that went in vain,
If you were made my Protector,
Then why did I suffer the most by you?

This is what bothers me

Our silence is tyranny,
Our faith is hypocrisy,
With it, the realization that nothing will change,
The scattered glass marbles reflecting my life!

This is what bothers me.

Friday, February 27, 2009

Hushed Melody


The strings plucked, the lyrics of our hearts in symphony,
Rhapsody in our thoughts, scraping the repressed memories,
The unfilled space in the canvas of my life,
Screaming for more strokes, some permanence in forms,
The palettes in our eyes still to be painted,
But, the bow soon fades the ecstasy away….
The melody dies on the altar of compromise with times.

The curious eyes glaring at the split shadows,
The silhouette of broken love, secrets and promises,
Now, the sword is dropped, and the hues are diluted,
Roaring laughter, resounding applauds, scathing the wall,
The questions forming ripples in my eyes,
The head bowed down, wishing the sky blushes,
It was never so hard to admit I am crying!

Monday, February 23, 2009

Quakes and Hopes


An apocalyptic roar,
And the rebellious earth,
Laid in front of me,
My past shattered,
My dreams in debris.


Am I alive? Why this agonizing pain?
Is it the pain that the cries are distant,
But only dead silence at home
Or is it my hand disfigured?
Vanquished with it the fate engraved on them.


The dwellings turned into graves,
The jewels forsaken, the shops abandoned,
No buyers, no sellers,
Just the bargain for life,
………….A lose-win deal.


Wish I was on my amma’s lap
But, maybe she was a dazzling star in the sky,
The Ultimate grief,
The Wounded soul,
And the Paradise lost.


A cutting pain, tears streaming down
Isolated from my hand,
Reckoned as worthless,
I felt Handicapped.
Now who will caress the lost loved ones?


But, I will survive,
I will put together the debris,
And build a castle
The paradise of my fathers,
Wherein will prosper generations.


If the tectonic plates had an extra aggression,
There is an extreme verve in me
If a moment can ruin it all,
The Moments together can turn it into a Paradise,
From the ashes, shall rise the Phoenix.

Saturday, February 14, 2009

What is Red?


I see thrill in the eyes. I hear people discussing different spots to hangout. Suddenly from the talk of Gaza war, we are wondering about love. From the scenes of dead bodies in Al-Jazeera, we are talking about movies pictured in Cinepax. Baffled……..Oh it’s the Valentine’s Day, that has yet again brought us in the midst of red. Red dress, red lips, red rose, red cards, red hearts, red candies and red balloons. Red continues to be in the air, from the gore red to the joyous red.

Red which stained the concrete, a remnant of a frightened kid who hid behind his mother in vain to shield himself from the air raid. Red, that is proudly worn by a damsel experiencing life. Red was once carcasses, counted and callously overlooked. Red is now endeared and prized. Red was depicting silence and fatality. Red is in the midst of noise and laughter. Red was bleeding profusely. Red is being painted happily. Red was causing tears and wrenched hearts. Red is worn to be envied and appreciated. Red signified the end of life. Red is flaunting life.

This gamut of red shows the stark incoherence among us. How indifferently can we enjoy without our thoughts fleeting on the wretched fraternity across the globe. In this day of love, care and admiration, we are sure to be stripped off Humanity.

This time we are entangled in the different threads of red. While some are mourning red, the others will be celebrating red. The paradox haunts me.