Humiliated, Betrayed, Undervalued

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HUMILIATED, BETRAYED, UNDERVALUED.

The following is the most devastating indictment of the ouster of Imran Khan by the Pakistan Army.

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It's been a long time since I've argued with anyone. I used to be opinionated and vocal, but life's push and shove has taught me that neither am I all knowing nor is it worth my time to insert myself into confrontations. I have opinions, but now I keep them to myself - in fact mostly I wonder if I'm even right about anything.

The last week has tested my resolve to avoid confrontation. I'm not stooping to disrespect but I admit I've been uncharacteristically vocal. Exhausted, I am forced to question myself: Why? Why this intense need to express, defend, sometimes attack. Some introspection has brought me to this understanding; I must not stay neutral, I can not afford to exclude myself anymore, and it's really about one tiny thing: how this scenario has made me FEEL.

I was speaking with my dear friend Ruby Saleem today. We are both PAF brats, brought up on "PAF ration" as my dad would proudly say. Ruby's husband, also a PAF brat, used to quip "Hamarey baap ki Air Force hai!", literally. Ruby's father Uncle Siraj and my dad served together for many years. Her mother who died young taught my mom, a new PAF bride, how to stitch and crochet. My father was awarded Sitara e Jurat in 1965 and is celebrated as a PAF hero. All their lives, our parents enjoyed a warm and loving relationship. Ruby's generation and mine nurtures boundless love for the Pakistan Air Force. When we think family, we conjure up the "Blue": PAF is family.

Ruby's husband Saleem Nawaz and my Razi attained shahadat together. She was left with four children as was I. Saleem Bhai and Razi were buried on the same day, next to each other, in Islamabad. Common citizens lined the streets from Chaklala to Islamabad as their janaza passed, many crying openly. There were upwards of 75,000 people at the prayer, someone said; unknown people who had nothing to do with us. Someone said, "We buried our Chief, Mushaf Ali Mir, in Lahore and here we bury two future Chiefs - Saleem Nawaz and Rizwanullah Khan - together. What a loss, what a sad day for PAF".

Thus, Ruby and I have a bond beyond friendship, into shared history and extreme tragedy, and I imagine we will find a way to die together.

Ruby is livid, and I'm pretty sad too. I asked her "Rubaji, I didnt feel this helpless when Razi left me. Did you, when Saleem Bhai went?". "No Seemi" she said confidently. "They were soldiers, shahadat was their desire and destiny. We married them knowing this, didnt we? And we are shaheeds' wives, not widows - wives. Why would we feel helpless? Allah has promised to look after our children, shaheed ke sadqey". And look after them Allah has - all 8 of them happy, strong, good human beings living their lives not seeking pity or favor, holding their heads high because their fathers served with pride and died honorably. "A good death is its own reward" someone said. Ruby and I, and hundreds of others like us, have attained Sabr through this philosophy.

So why this angst, this helplessness, this desperate feeling of being cheated, being defrauded, being utterly and permanently humiliated, now when our qayamat has passed and we have survived? We should be content and relieved now that the azmaish is nearly over, and whatever disgusting, miserable events are coming to pass, what does it matter to us? We are protected, physically and spiritually.

I have tried to deconstruct the emotional upheaval I am experiencing and I've arrived at the great Maya Angelou's wise words.

Losing the most beloved beings in our lives, our children being orphaned, our parents devastated and our lives uprooted had a direct bombing like impact upon us. We were destroyed and reconstruction seemed impossible. The air crash could have been due to any reason - pilot error, machine malfunction, inclement weather, a conspiracy to kill - it didnt matter. We blamed neither God nor the PAF; we were content that theirs was a good death, and that they had tasked us to bring up their children. We were on a mission and focused on our true north - becoming worthy of the sacrifice they were honored with. We were dukhi - permanently, but we felt cheated - NEVER. The FEELING prevailed, circumstances just existed, inconsequential and non threatening. We have lived our lives proudly as shaheeds' families, have not considered our situation a favor to the nation, and we are better human beings for it.

Then this week came to pass.

#PrimeMinisterImranKhan was not a perfect leader and is not a flawless man, even if Ruby and I (and crores of others) believe that he was the best we could be blessed with. Much can be debated about his achievements (or not). Here's the thing; never once did he make us feel that our loss was insignificant or forgotten. What he said didnt matter, what he did didnt matter - how he made us FEEL mattered. We felt we mattered, and that's a powerful feeling for shaheeds' families.

We wouldve accepted his ouster in an election, through any lawful, transparent, non-conspiratorial process. Let us go a step further; we may have even accepted that such unethical, illegal stuff happens; no matter, oust him and call an election and let him contest fair and square. This would be frustrating, not humiliating.

We are now left with murderers, money launderers, liars and thieves, rapists and pretenders, cowards who have no empathy with the nation. Me saying this is one thing, records and evidence tell us this. Criminals are sworn in to the highest offices of Pakistan on the day they were to be indicted. Convicted murders are welcomed back with garlands and facilitated by government officials. The cowardly Nawaz hustles back to Pakistan while he ran scared earlier giving false witness. The honorable courts throw their doors open for criminals in the middle of the night while they never wake up to people's plight. What Armageddon is this?

And the heartbreaking rumors that my beloved institution, the one that has fed me and protected me, that I have held dear all my life, the one that I stoically entrusted Razi to - the military - may have engineered this? I don't believe it, its beyond my wildest expectations, I would rather die than believe this. Is it so? Tell me its not!

Ruby cries profusely, and I admit I've been crying a lot too. We hold unwavering faith and trust in #ImranKhan - he is incorruptible and his heart beats for his people - us. He's a courageous man and doesn't need our concern and protection. Maybe his destiny too is shahadat; we give him in Allah's protection.

But the rest, we can not forgive. We are cheated and humiliated, and more so if our own colluded to bring this upon us. Saleem Bhai and Razi, my hero father and my PoW father in law, Mushaf Ali Mir and Rashid Minhas, Sarfaraz Rafiqui and so many other beautiful souls wasted their lives in service. They should have lived so that we could remain whole, so that my 3 year old son could remember his father and my 17 year old son not be burdened with responsibilities, so that my daughters could rush back to their father every time the world tried to hurt them.

So that Ruby and I would not have spent the best part of lives alone, in love with dead people.

I imagine the same reason has riled up the nation to the unprecedented groundswell that we are experiencing, unexpected and shocking to the evil unholy alliance. It doesn't matter who did what when and with whom; it matters how they have made us FEEL. .

Humiliated, betrayed and unvalued.