A Conversation…..
He sat there, alone, listening to
his favorite songs and visibly lost in his own thoughts. Occasionally checking
his phone to see whether he was missing out on anything, but according to him,
he really wasn’t. All the guys at this new university he had enrolled in, were
great, but somehow they seemed to have this certain aesthetic short-coming that
was always prominent to Hamza. That in no way meant he was a loner or that he
didn’t enjoy their company, he was a person tolerant enough to not only bear
with them but also have a few great moments. On the other hand, his own company
was something that was invaluable to him. Sometimes to other people, he looked
like a shy or maybe a lonely boy, but there was a whole lot about him that
nobody at this institution knew. That was okay, he was bound to make his mark.
Pakistan had been a country in a
multi-dimensional crisis since the past decade and a half, or as one of Hamza’s
favorite artist liked to say, ‘Pakistan
tareekh kay aik nazuk mor se guzar raha hai’, a phrase he’d heard an
uncountable number of times in the 21 years he’d been alive. The situation
seemed to confuse him to an uncomfortable extent, but it didn’t seem to bother
the rest of the nation. Even though everyone was aware of the problems the
country faced, almost no one seemed to be bothered enough to do anything about
it. On that May afternoon, he sat and he came to the conclusion that either his
countrymen were too shortsighted to know the consequences of their actions, or
they were selfish enough to know the consequences and still chose to act the
same way out of personal interest. He gazed around the park yet his thoughts
were still stuck at the same place, even though they’d been there for a long
period of time. Another honor killing, another acid attack, another corrupt
politician defending his lust of money and power, was there an end to all this?
The line of thoughts came to an abrupt halt when his phone started vibrating
next to his thigh. He picked it up and shaded the screen with his hand to see
who it was this time. Ah, Umar, that chap.
For a moment, Hamza thought about
putting his phone back and retreating to his cocoon of worried thoughts.
Something deep inside him persisted and he picked up the call. ‘Kaisay hou desi-aristotle?!’ He let out
a cheerful laugh and continued with the conversation. Hamza had always felt a
vibe from Umar, the one you get and you know you should talk to this person,
there was something about him, even other than his sense of humor.
10 minutes later, Umar walked
towards him with two cups of tea and a pack of Benson & Hedges. Soon after,
the small talk about university, assignments and quizzes was starting to
transform into something else. It was just about to get interesting for both of
them. The discussion turned towards politics and national affairs and what not.
In that moment, Hamza saw an opportunity. He saw an opportunity not only to
test Umar but also to let his own thoughts out and see what kind of a reaction
he would have. No doubt, Umar was a politically well-informed lad, the question
was, was he equally intellectually
well-informed? Hamza’s intention was not to start a debate but after he saw
the type of passion with which Umar talked about politics and national affairs,
there was bound to be some. They sat there and while they sipped their tea and
lit their cigarettes, the discussion became more and more intense as Umar
mentioned the recent developments regarding Panama Papers, the current
government and the political scenario. Umar on the other hand, he was more
concerned about the social aspect of it all. Corruption was a variable that was
prominent no matter in both aspects, political and social. These were both
sides of the same coin and hence could not be separated.
Although both of them agreed and
even Hamza was impressed by Umar’s knowledge about his country, not only the
recent developments inside it but it’s history aswell, as he highlighted
certain blunders in our history that he knew nothing about. ‘Admittance of one’s mistakes, hmm, nice.’,
Hamza thought. Being an avid reader of eastern literature including Iqbal and
Sufi Mystics with the likes of Bulleh Shah etc, there was another perspective
to this whole struggle, in Hamza’s opinion. These circumstances, they were
starting to show a bit more than just political incompetence, to him, they
depicted certain short-comings in the upbringing of not only a generation but a
nation. Unfortunately, the Muslim of today was nowhere near being a Shaheen of Iqbal. Around this time, the
discussion had transformed into a full-on debate between political-correctness
and what appeared to Hamza as the reasons behind the downfall of not only
Pakistan but the entire Muslim Ummah. The opinions of the two boys sitting on
the bench weren’t totally contrary but they had reached a mutually unspoken
understanding that they were to talk regarding these things because their
respective opinions and perspectives interested each other.
Umar was now beginning to bluntly
blame the leaders of the Ummah for the condition they were in today, and that
was adding fuel to fire because Hamza had recently begun to read and become
aware of self-awareness. He was of the opinion that all things, good or bad,
were out of one’s own self. It was a matter of mere perception that one knew
some things to be bad, and others to be good. Yes, there was a line between
these two concepts but it would not have been there if it were for thought and
awareness. The awareness in discussion was not a usual one, it summed up
religion, society and politics all in one. The
awareness in discussion was enlightenment. If you were enlightened enough,
all other things fell into their respective places. The concept of good and bad
merged into what your soul felt was true. Umar listened, quite in awe, as Hamza
explained these concepts to him, with his unintentional hand gestures and the
look in his eyes, it was evident he believed in each word out of his mouth,
with all his heart.
A simple expression of opinions
was now almost a speech with the amount of passion involved. Both of them knew
this was the start of a great friendship, as Hamza muttered these last few
words, almost out breath.
“Yesterday I was clever, so I
wanted to change the world. Today I am wise, so I am changing myself.”
This was a journey that started in one’s self, continued within one’s
self and ended there. All that you seek, is within you.
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