REVOLUTION!

Dear Pakistan,

I know how you are right now because I see it everyday. I know you are suffering from world’s most terrible illnesses and some of them may even take years to cure. But believe me, one day everything will be all right. One day, all these illnesses will be cured. Just hang in there buddy. Just hang in there a little longer till the youth comes in power. Hang in there long enough till WE BRING A BLOODY REVOLUTION TO CURE YOU! I will wash your streets with the blood of the corrupt enemies. And then wipe them clean with the heads of those who ruined you. Only then will you be cured! Only then will you prosper as was dreamt by our elders. There is no other way. There is no other cure. Only blood and blood only.

A revolution is inevitable. The stage is set, the props are up and the right mood prevails. All that is missing are actors and a director.

PAKISTAN WAS MADE WITH BLOOD AND WILL BE '”REMADE” WITH BLOOD!

With Love,
Syed Shehroz Hussain (Ozzy).

Identity Crisis

As I stand in front of the Devil-Box, I see our past, values, traditions and culture crumpling away right before my eyes. Our forefathers fought and sacrificed to preserve and protect these same values and traditions. But now we failed them. Disgraced their sacrifice. We threw away our culture, beliefs, norms, values and traditions into an abyss of void and blackness and then blindly followed the traditions and beliefs of foreign alien invaders. Witnessing this grieves me! Tortures me! Kills me!

We have forsaken our beautiful Shalwar Kameez for tight jeans and shrunken T-shirts. We have forgotten the true melodies of Sitar, Sarang, Flute, Rabab and Tabla for the foreign Head-banging so-called music which is all about screaming and Boom Booms. We have even started to prefer bland, fatty and disgusting burgers and pizzas over tasteful, delicious and healthy Makai Ki Roti and Saag or Chapli Kabab or Driver Hotel’s Daal with Naan. We would rather have those black or orange sweet and sickening drinks like Cola instead of more refreshing Lassi or Chai or Rooh Afza or Limo Pani.

We have an identity. Or we used too…

Our identity is what make us unique and special in the whole world. Driving madly in bad traffic is our identity. The unhygienic roadside ‘tikka’ and ‘chaat’ and ‘ganey ka sharbat’ is our identity and so is Shalwar Kameez with Chapliyaan or Khhoosey and Eid and Basant. Gossiping and colorful clothes with patterns and embroidery is our identity as well as heavy jewelry and glass bangles and boys kee ‘cheapness’ and girls keh ‘nakhrey.’ Not to ignore same gender hugging and gender segregation. If there was no gender segregation then what would be the fun in ‘Poondi’ and why would girls take hours to get ready to become the centre of all Poondi? This is Pakistan and this is who we are! This is “us” as a nation! The loud, annoying rickshaws and the heavily decorated darling buses with cheap poetry on the rear window, the constant abusing and cussing of politicians and the Friday Namaz when the streets get empty, the hooting and whistling in any social event, these are what define us and give us an identity. These are what give COLOR to our lives and culture! This is what adds SPICE in our lifestyle.

LOVE PAKISTAN. LIVE PAKISTANI.

Intro

Hello, Pakistanis.

I've seen people die. I've seen people losing hope. I've heard teenagers talking about leaving this country and hating the fact that why, WHY they were not given the choice on where to be born. I've seen young, active individuals-who CAN make some difference-complain about how bad things are in this country. I've seen mothers shattered on losing their sons in bomb blasts. I've seen fathers collapsing on losing their dreams. I've seen poverty. Hopelessness. Helplessness. Anger. Disgust. Hunger.

I've seen all of that. I am a Pakistani who has lost all hopes. Who is questioning himself on where did all that patriotism go. Those national anthems. Those national songs which used to give me goose-bumps. That energy vibe that went through my body-shaking up every single minute part of me-when I said the word 'Pakistan. Those moments of joy when Pakistani team won a cricket match. Those moments of depression when we lost few brothers and sisters in an accident thousands of miles away. That adrenaline rush when a Pakistan youngster got some award abroad. That feeling of joy when a Pakistani broke a Guiness record. That ultimate sense of belonging when I heard someone scream 'Pakistan Zinadabad' on top of their lungs.

Where'd all that go?

Why is it that I am becoming indifferent to these things? Why is it that I've lost hope. Why is it that even when deep inside my heart, I know that we'll rise above all one day, I don't see that day coming any time soon. What has made me believe that we are helpless.

When and why did I become a turncoat?

I want all those feeling back. When I waved the flag up high. When I bought flag pins and distributed them for free. When I decorated my house with small flags on 14^th August, even if knew it was gonna rain. When I loved that perfect blend of green and white and the 5 cornered star.

I want my patriotism back. My Pakistaniat. I want it.