How common it is to see Pakistanis from all walks of life complaining about the myriad convoluted issues they have to grapple with on a daily basis. Many have chosen to bail out, unwilling and unable to live in an increasingly dysfunctional set up. The good life attracts and seduces from afar, and the temptation proves difficult to resist. And who can blame them for wanting a better life for their children and themselves?
How ironic then to recall the time when our forefathers made the heart wrenching choice to leave behind their home and hearth, and head towards to this very land of hope and opportunity where they would be able to hold their heads up high. A country of their very own, with a dynamic leader at it’s helm, who had achieved the impossible feat of carving out Pakistan in the face of implacable opposition.
The destination for millions, hope sprung eternal in the breasts of those who trekked across the border, homeless and nearly destitute, but determined to defeat all odds. Men, women and children braved the trials and tribulations of the long and arduous journey to reach Pakistan. One of them was my father who left Azamgarh in UP, India for this new land.
A school student, he walked for days to reach his new abode, leaving behind his home, his older sisters and his friends. In this unfamiliar and hard country, his first loss was that of his mother who fell ill during the journey, but was unable to receive treatment in time. Her last words to Abba were: “Mein tumhara sehra lay kar aayi hoon, meri khawahish hai kay tumhe dulha banay dekhoon. Aik dafa pehan kay tau dekha do.” (I have got your wedding turban with me, I wanted to see you as a bridegroom, wear it for me just one time so I can see you in it.) Embarrassed by her tears, he held her hand tight but refused to wear the sehra. Lying on a hospital bed decades later, Abba said wistfully, “Now I think why did I not wear it for her? At least it would have made her smile before she went.”
At the age of 15, Abba found himself and his assorted family of siblings, cousins and other relatives living under a tin shed in Karachi. The heat, the flies, the rain and the mosquitoes were constant companions. Studying and working, he eventually found a job as a clerk in the Ministry of Education. His daily commute would take hours, because he did not have enough money to take the bus. He knew he could he do much better in life, but he had no resources. Abba soon came to realise that if there was one field in this new country that was based on merit, it was the civil service. The examination was rigorous and required a great deal of study but he did not let that deter him. Abba started studying at night under street lamps, and working during the day. His fellow clerks laughed at him, deriding his efforts to become an afsar (officer). But to their surprise, after many months of dedicated studying, Abba did pass the exam.
Now a new life stretched ahead and by sheer dint of perseverance and intelligence, he climbed one rung of the ladder after another. There were many rough patches when he clashed with senior officers and refused to do their bidding when it went against his principles. He was punished by being deputed to one hardship post after another, but he decided to take each trial as an opportunity to excel. His work with communities in backward areas and efforts to ameliorate their lives was lauded and he received commendations. Years passed by in challenging assignments, and then there came a day in Abba’s life when he entered the Ministry of Education as Federal Secretary. The very same clerk colleagues who had scoffed at his desire to excel were now awe struck to see him in this new avatar.
My father’s story is not the only success story from that generation. Countless others gave their blood, sweat and tears to give sinews and vigour to their motherland. There was a time when the Koreans studied our economy, because we were held up as a role model for developing countries. While our parents worked tirelessly to enable the country to stand on it’s feet, we were handed everything on a platter. Can we ever comprehend what sacrifices they made so we could have the luxuries we regard as necessities today?
How many amongst us today tend to take Pakistan for granted and treat it like a poor relative, to be acknowledged sometimes when needed but mostly shunted into a corner and ignored? Cocooned in our little bubbles, whither our sense of community initiative or desire to help others less privileged? We crib about politicians ad nauseum, but come election time we cast our votes for the very same people, irrespective of their dismal track records. As M.K Gandhi said, “Be the change you want to see in others.”
We have abdicated our responsibility towards our country, and let it fall prey to extremism and bigotry. The ubiquitous bickering, hostility and corruption permeating the length and breadth of Pakistan today is tarnishing the legacy of our forefathers. They had nothing, but that did not deter them in achieving their goals by sheer dint of hard work and willpower. They were extraordinary men and women whose sacrifices should not go in vain. Instead of incessant doomsday predictions, on this independence day we need to dwell on President John F. Kennedy’s sage advice: "Ask not what your country can do for you - ask what you can do for your country".
Maheen Usmani is a freelance journalist. She has reported on varied subjects, ranging from socio-political issues to sports, travel, culture and counter terrorism.