MAYBE some of you have heard this poem in Punjabi doing the rounds on social media. It is an ode to a corrupt politician that might leave you stunned, despite the fact that ridiculing the like ceased to be a shocking exercise in the land a long time ago.

The verse draws on a tradition of sarcasm wrapped in everyday idiom as it goes about mischievously reporting on an imaginary ironic conversation between two sahelis or friends: One mockingly tells the other about what ‘vices’ her match must possess — dishonesty and an ability to rob, to cite but just a couple of them.

The ideal man that emerges — made up of all that you wouldn’t want to see in a decent soul — definitely takes the daring damsel’s legendry infatuation with the local tough to a level where the Maula Jatts and the Noori Natts of our folklore appear to be novices unworthy of the infamy. This is a national level tough, confronting the listeners with all the powers he is renowned for.

The poem, told with sentiment bordering on contempt, is peppered with references about how the ironic hero of the girl in question is someone the robbers looked up to for guidance. It is rounded off with the poet revealing the name that combines all these reverse qualities that this (young and presumably adventurous) woman is looking for in her prospective partner.

A Punjabi poem that ironically celebrates the bad qualities associated with the most infamous politician is the kind of propaganda that takes time maturing.

Naming names here would be a waste of time, really. You must have all guessed that the poem is inspired by the most vicious and the most documented among the gang of politicians.

Time and again, the vilification of the politician does bring out the angriest reactions from Pakistanis who advocate a more measured approach to judging everyone else. As one shared the above mentioned poem with friends, one strong response warned the sender against the dangers of falling — yet one more time — into the trap that sought to leave the captives with guilt whose effects no amount of convincing would wash away. How could one allow oneself to fall for this propaganda? The more aware, at least, should be able to spot and shun it.

The truth is that, with time, it has become impossible not to be affected by this ‘truth’. There was a time not long ago when it was possible to say that putting all the attention on corruption of money and power was a ‘conspiracy’ to deny the people an opportunity to debate other real issues. That seems a far cry now in a country where an entire government is busy discussing nothing but the corruption of their predecessors.

Once it was easier to discuss the strange ways history moved. The process whereby the robber duo of Changa and Manga escape notoriety and graduate to a level where an entire village is found to have been named after them would be an intriguing one to follow. Closer to the present day, it is quite remarkable how leaders rejected by the masses of people in one instance return to recapture power on the back of a popularity wave. These may be good, reassuring and much-needed cushions to fall back on for those on the run. On the other hand, it would not hurt anyone if an attempt was made to confront reality here and now. To those interested in studying how attitudes are shaped, it may be worthwhile to find out just how deep the sentiment ran for it to have been conveniently exploited by a local bard surrounded by an approving audience.

A Punjabi poem that ironically celebrates the bad qualities associated with the most infamous politician painted corrupt from head to toe, told to a nodding, live audience… this is the kind of propaganda that takes time maturing. Not just what it alludes to but, in its rugged tone and the way it addresses the subject, it is indicative of just how convenient it has clearly become for anyone to take certain groups or parties of politicians to task.

The tone has changed from the one in which Ustad Daman — without going into comparatively how more skilful he might have been at his trade — nudged Zulfikar Ali Bhutto, reminding the politician that he was going a little off line. Perhaps it is unjust to compare that poetry with the verse that forms the basis of this comment piece here, but then again many would agree that the friendly cajoling of those times has, in this case, by and large been replaced with the acrimonious chorus that has won over the crowd to its side. It begs the question: what has the other side — the maligned side — been doing all this while to fight this propaganda?

We need not name him for the sake of fairness, but the maligned politician’s response to this reality doesn’t quite betray the alarm that he should have felt. He is still unwilling to rise above the level where he plays the habitual victim to a badly shrunk audience of his own, choosing to fight his battles in the intrigue bastions of power rather than by the people on the street.

He promises that the old cycle will continue and there will be protests. And then he flashes the side to him that he obviously considers worth showing off... He says they are after him since he has so much money. This statement of truth — something that is said to come naturally to him — accompanied by a wink, is his way of endearing himself to the public but, but sadly for him, the numbers don’t match up to the tall tales that describe his powers to persuade and win over people.

The writer is Dawn’s resident editor in Lahore.

Published in Dawn, May 17th, 2019