THE Americans have achieved almost everything under the sun, what they could not achieve they procured and if there was anything beyond their achievement or procurement, they simply grabbed it by force in the name of freedom and democracy. Even then they are a frustrated lot because they have not been able to own a royalty, a superfluous distinction which even a minor principality like Monaco can boast of.
Their frustration is such that they start worshipping even Jacqueline Kennedy as a queen — a famished and undernourished lady of ordinary looks whose thin body could only serve as a hanger for all the designers clothes which she wore without any grace. Even Jack Kennedy had achieved the status of an unofficial king.
So the Americans are all the time desperate to have some sort of royalty. When they can’t find it, they create it. Sports legends, actors, singers, fashion models, television hosts, millionaires, chefs, firefighters, and even Nike shoes are their royalty. Billboards, newspapers and magazines are plastered with the images of these queens and kings but a real royalty does exist in America. There are genuine kings and queens i.e., old and handicapped people, children and dogs. Amongst this royalty the dogs have the bluest blood of them all.
A handicap person is a real VIP around here, enjoying such privileges which even the president can’t dream of, although some of the presidents could easily apply for these privileges without any fear of being rejected. They have special seats in the public transport and reserved spaces in the parking lots. Upon seeing a wheelchair or a person with clutches, the bus driver will immediately leave his seat and practically carry the person and his or her wheelchair lovingly in the bus. A wheelchair on the streets of New York is like a president’s cavalcade (our president’s), on all kind of traffic stops, people give way and the traffic lights hold their breath. It is a wonder that Al-Quaida never thought of it, instead of blowing up the twin towers and loosing two whole countries in the bargain, they, all the 19 hijackers, could with immunity cruise into the Pentagon or White house on wheelchairs and do the needful. If a handicap person feels that he cannot travel far on a bus or a wheelchair, he can request for a special van and it will be on his door step in no time with a smiling driver. I personally know two handicapped gentlemen, staunch diehard revolutionaries of the old guard who went to America and were converted to capitalism. According to one of them, they were not shunned by the public as lula langras and apahaj like at home in Pakistan, but were treated for the first time in their life as human beings, and privileged ones at that. Then there is the royalty of children. No matter how insolent and unbearable brutes they are, you cannot even touch them, if you do that and your neighbours report this brutality to the police, you can be arrested and even the children can be snatched away from you because you are not fit enough to raise them.
If on a busy street without rhyme or reason the traffic starts slowing down and then comes to a sudden halt, it must be the children going to or leaving school. The kids, in general devoid of any manners, cycling, on skates, chewing gum, listening to their MP3 players, can be seen bully around like princes. If you run over the President of United States, you may get away with it but if the bumper of your car even touches a kid, then only God can help you.
In this regard, I would like to narrate an incident which recently took place on the tarmac of Karachi airport. An international flight arrived from New York, amongst the passengers were a father and son. The father, a bearded and docile gentleman, and the son, a teenager, in swanky and trendy clothes chewing gum. A soon as they alighted from the plane and steeped on Pakistani soil, the bearded father grabbed his darling son and started beating him, the son totally shocked by this sudden attack tried to escape the wrath of his father but the father won’t let go shouting all the time “You scum of the earth, you nalaiq bum, now call the police and have me arrested, I will see who comes to help you here. We are in Pakistan.”
When the amused public finally rescued the trembling teenager from the clutches of his father, who had tears in his eyes the story was unfolded by the grieved party, the father. “You know we live in America and like a good father I use to pull his ears or slap him once in a while just to build his character and one day he called the police, and I was arrested and locked up. Afterwards he always chided me ‘Abbaji, won’t you like to slap me please’. Well I was waiting for my chance, this is just the beginning, he will know what a real father is like in Pakistan.”
On my way to Liberty Island to pay homage to the American god, the Statue of Liberty, I came across a harrased gentleman who was chasing his kids all the time. One was about eight years old and he was making the life of every passenger on the ferry miserable by running around, grabbing their legs or just pushing them to make way. The other wild one was a 12-year-old girl who was sulking all the time, or pulling violently the tie of her miserable father who, with a forced smile, was trying to humour her without any success.
I could see that the gentleman was trying his best to control his anger, whispering in her ears perhaps some threat but to no avail instead the girl gave a loud shriek and started crying. This attracted the attention of some passengers who glared threateningly at this monster of a father who was responsible for the misery of this poor child. The girl, so encouraged, banged her foot on the toe of this poor wretch who in turn shrieked louder than his daughter. But his howl was received very approvingly by the ferry passengers as he deserved it. I believe that a slight slap or two would have produced amazing results but this was America.
It so happened in Orlando that my daughter left me near her car to look after my grandson Noffel while she could shop with ease and serenity in a mall. Noffel was fast sleep in the back seat of the car and while standing away on some distance I lit a cigarette to smoke away the time. In the meantime an Afro-American lady of gigantic proportions parked her truck nearby, came out of it with considerable labour, looked at me puffing away then peeped in to Anni’s car and said, “That baby there is yours?”
“Yes.” I said proudly, “That there is my grandson.”
“You are a horrible man, smoking near the baby, you should be ashamed of yourself, you are jeopardising the health of this cute thing.”
I believe she would have attacked me if I had not extinguished the cigarette immediately.
“That’s like a good grandpa,” she smiled approvingly and walked away like a faulty road roller.
THE Americans have achieved almost everything under the sun, what they could not achieve they procured and if there was anything beyond their achievement or procurement, they simply grabbed it by force in the name of freedom and democracy. Even then they are a frustrated lot because they have not been able to own a royalty, a superfluous distinction which even a minor principality like Monaco can boast of.
On my way to Liberty Island to pay homage to the American god, the Statue of Liberty, I came across a harrased gentleman who was chasing his kids all the time. One was about eight years old and he was making the life of every passenger on the ferry miserable by running around, grabbing their legs or just pushing them to make way. The other wild one was a 12-year-old girl who was sulking all the time, or pulling violently the tie of her miserable father who, with a forced smile, was trying to humour her without any success.
