Standing on a dusty street as a hot dry wind rolled through, pulling all the moisture from wherever it lay, I talked to a phal-wallah (fruit seller) standing next to his cart as he tried, generally in vain, to protect his produce from an army of flies.

While earnestly staring at me, his eyes filled with frustration and anger, he asked me, “You know what, smarty-pants?” and continued to explain his analysis of life for Pakistanis at the bottom of the economic and social hierarchy.

I sell fruit. Bananas, oranges, apples, apricot, plums and grapes on a pushcart along the main, broken road in a town. The sewerage system is damaged and the drains leak, so I wade through gutter water every day. This road is always crowded with people and flies. Flies are everywhere: On my nose, on the fruit and even in the water that I use to clean the fruit with. It feels as if there is a decent and acceptable nexus among eatables, customers and insects alike.

He continued, “Anyhow, what counts most is the price of the fruit, the cheaper the better!"

And yes, it’s not a lucrative business; I will never be filthy rich. I go to the Sabzi Mandi (vegetable market) early morning and stand behind a circled group of people, peeping over their shoulders looking for an affordable price to buy some cartons of fruits.

Also read: Official apathy, extortion go together in Sabzi Mandi

Then, I sell it all day long until either the fruit is gone or the sun has set. Often, the sun sets earlier than the bulk of my fruit is sold. There is hardly any profit except that thankfully, I am able to feed my family to survive till the next day. They will simply starve if I don’t work even one day.

Never mind for strikes, protests, rallies and closures.

I have been selling fruit since I was five years old. First, I assisted my father and now I have my own cart. I pay rent and commission for this spot - in kind, as well as cash.

Since the day I started to work, I have been listening to clichéd risks and the same old rhetoric of the bleak situation and melancholic discourse that ‘Pakistan is facing an extremely existential threat’. ‘It is a matter of now or never’. ‘Do or die’. It is appalling and nerve racking, but you know what, fella?

Nothing happens.

No one does anything, poor people die every day here and then, the next incident occurs. We are used to it in the same fashion as a fly sits on fruits and the consumers don’t mind consuming it. It is usual, normal and nothing out of the ordinary.

Look, we fought wars with India, big and small, and the latest was Kargil. It was an existential threat. During Bangladesh’s war for freedom, we lost miserably and it was also a matter of saving Pakistan. During the 80s, fighting a war as an ally of America was also an endeavor to keep Pakistan safe. And, it was a state of now or never when Pakistan conducted the five nuclear tests.

During economic sanctions, people were told to maintain 'high self-esteem' as the country was going through tough times. While taking over the country by casting out elected Prime Ministers, dissolving constitutions and banning political activities, the dictators told people that it was the only solution as the country was experiencing rampant incompetency, corruption and internal, as well external threats.

During 9/11, it was so common to hear from almost every politician and columnist that this was the real existential threat as America announced war on terror.

Now, our genuine home grown picture is this. Religious extremism has devastated the roots of civilisation and shattered the concept of a dreamland for Pakistanis as forecasted by its founders.

Also read: An open letter to Quaid-e-Azam, on Minorities Day

Ahmadis are not safe. Doctors, teachers, businessmen and even small children are killed in broad daylight. Witness the recent horror of Gujranwala, for instance. Look at Gojra! Can you imagine such a shock? Houses were set on fire and human flesh was roasted.

Christians live in Pakistan as alien denizens. They fear for their lives and their churches are bombed. Anyone dare to speak is killed, be he the governor of the province or the federal minister for minority affairs. Not to talk of Hindus. Temples are blazed; Hindu businessmen are harassed and kidnapped for ransom while their young daughters and sisters are forcefully converted.”

Have you seen the writing on the walls? It’s not funny. I am serious.

It’s not like graffiti art as decorated in western countries. Instead, it reads ‘Shia Shia, kafir Shia’, inscribed on walls in towns and cities. Look at the Hazaras and the way they are massacred in Quetta. You must know many people who protest against these killings, describing them as the Shia massacre?

All of that? It is just the tip of the iceberg.

Nineteen school children died in a van due to a gas cylinder blast in Gujarat. Two brothers were beaten to death and then hanged at the water tank for public viewing in Sialkot. Cannibals ate the flesh of deceased people in Bukhar. Children are auctioned to pay off the family debt.

Twelve innocent people died in the Model Town tragedy. The police and Gullu Butt enjoyed the death celebration, while dancing and embracing each other. Thirty-five young boys lost their lives while swimming at a beach in Karachi. Women are stripped naked, buried alive and killed in the name of honour across the entire country, and, last but not the least, Balochistan is a land in Pakistan less known to its own country fellows. Killings, dumping of bodies, disappearances are the order of the day.

A young, metrosexual and imported outfit-wearing man like you must be worried about how Pakistan is going through yet another existential threat but the situation on ground is far worse. There is even more hue and cry now; pseudo promises and the relentlessly ruthless treatment of ordinary people because of the bottomless bellies of our corrupt politicians. We endure the pain of living every day.

We can’t commit suicide but dying once is much better than seeing this part of the soul die every day.

Also read: The making of Pakistan in view of its identity

Look at me, boy and look at my goad (traditional Sindhi fabric worn around the waist). Can you see the age of the cloth? Its color has faded. It is torn at all the edges and has holes in it. I wear it everyday, cold, hot, humid or raining. I can’t afford to buy a new one; I would much rather buy a dress for my wife and daughter, if I could.

Who is responsible for what has happened, is happening, or will happen in Pakistan?

Who is responsible for the majority of its poor people who live miserable lives?

This is a century that people most cherish for the human developments and technological achievements. Where does Pakistan stand?

This is what I think. It’s my point of view, which I share amongst the fruit sellers, brick kiln workers, street sweepers, donkey cart riders and daily wage labourers. We are the majority and we are in a miserable and unenviable condition.

You may be thinking what the PTI ‘Azadi’ March or the PAT ‘Revolution March’ will bring? Will it derail democracy or create yet another existential threat?

We have nothing to lose except the daily wage.

We expect to get nothing, but may starve until the market is open after the Tsunami or inqilaab come.

This is our fact.