by Qandeel Shaam
What is patriotism but the love of the food one had as a child – Lin Yutang
There are many questions I struggle to solve – for instance, does the soul weigh 28 grams, why 72 virgins and why not just 1? Is Lichtenstein a country? Why do the Brits call private schools ‘public’, why is the green tea pink? How does Kamran Khan always manage to look like a very sad and cynical koala bear?
But there is one question that has persistently sat like a shrapnel in my mind: What does it mean to be Pakistani, what is Pakistaniat?
I’ve yo-yoed between Pakistan and Europe all my life, and with the passage of time this question has come to mystify me more and more. Moments of reflection over what your national identity is, and what it means, usually occur when you’re not in your home country. Maybe it has something to do with being labelled a “Pakistani†or feeling like an outsider, but living in the West can really intensify one’s ethnical awareness. This often results in an exaggerated sense of national identity where you see Pakistanis in the West acting more Pakistani-like than those living in Pakistan! For a brief time I was also overcome with a disposition to jingo, but then I moved to Pakistan….
Now you have to understand: for a Pakistani to move back to Pakistan after having proudly performed a stint of patriotism in the West can be quite a shocking experience. Whatever you thought was Pakistani can very quickly evaporate into the coiling miasma of confusion that shrouds our country. The contretemps first jolts and then disillusions you, because you slowly come to the realization that Pakistan is positively mired in an identity crisis.
You have the Western-wannabe’s and the religious extremist-wannabe’s. An extant grey zone that falls in between is either too small or too muted to buffer these two extremes. The Western-wannabe’s are primarily concerned with being liberal without embracing liberalism: for example, aunties who mull for hours when deciding just how deep they should let their plunging necklines plunge before it starts to look too inappropriate for a charity fundraising event to help emancipate the poor. The same aunties are also dedicated to ensuring that the only ‘liberty’ their maids ever see is a market in Lahore.
On the other hand you have the religious extremist-wannabe’s. Their narrow, retrograde interpretation of Islam creates new lines – and intensifies old ones – of demarcation based on belief, sect, creed, even beard length (!). It preaches Islamic unity but is practiced on the paradoxical premise that intolerance (even violence) against people with differing isms is condonable.
Western- and religious extremist-wannabes have their own sets of insecurities and prejudices and view everyone through such a discriminatory prism. These groups and the forces they exert deserves exclusive attention, but for the purposes of this article it is suffice to say that the dichotomy of Westernism and religious extremism in Pakistan has caused more friction between Pakistanis, propelling the drift away from a core Pakistaniat, a sense of oneness.
So when I moved back to Pakistan I found that oneness to be lacking; after years of living up to the facade of a “Pakistani†in the West I found Pakistan itself to be devoid of any such identity. I think that generally speaking Pakistanis have always had a clique mentality, but it’s augmented and intensified. So you see now multiple little groups all bopping their heads against one another.
And yet we speak of being Pakistani and Pakistaniat. We don’t just speak of it we feel it as well. When I am in Europe I again feel Pakistani. How can we feel something that doesn’t really exist?
The article opened with a quote from the Chinese writer Ling Yutang,
“What is patriotism but the love of the food one had as a childâ€
. I interpret this as memories of our childhood and the nostalgia they bring, and how it’s from these memories and nostalgia that there emanates a sense of self identity. So if I’m in Europe and eating samosa chaat or listening to a Pakistani song or qawali that was popular in my youth, it will almost always invoke a warm feeling of nostalgia that reminds me of where I come from. I’m not sure whether I should consider it a tragedy that the only vestiges left of the Pakistaniat I used to feel and know have become hazy reminisces, or whether I should feel glad that the feeling is not lost all together.
Photo Credits: Photos for this post are taken from flickr.com
Viqar Minai,
You are God Damn right, !!! man !!
Adnan Ahmed,
I would request you, and if it does’nt bother you,
can you please put Gulzar’s Ghazal completely ? I know
Lata ji sang this sublime piece of art,
Hum nay Dekhi hey inn ankhon ki chamakti khushbou
hath se choo key inhain rishton ka ilzam ne do.
hav’nt heard since 33 years and was looking for it.
which film was it ??? thanks.
I think we Pakistanis make our lives unnecessarily difficult over the question of our identity.
We do have the examples of the US and Canada or NZ and Australia, which are culturally very similar but still, Canada and NZ are easily seen as separate countries from their neighbours without any identity problems. This is the case even though they have the same language, ethnicity, religion etc, so they don’t even have the logic of a separate religion the way we did. Yet we don’t see people questioning the justification for these countries.
Having said that, we do need to understand that there are some reasons why Pakistanis feel more confused about their identity.
When Pakistanis went abroad in the 1950s and 1960s, very few people even knew that there was even a country called Pakistan. The generation of our parents had to answer basic questions about where Pakistan was and how it was separated from India.
Over time, people abroad have gradually come to know that Pakistan is a country. However, Pakistan is still a young country and we have not yet developed the sense of confidence about our own national existance to look people in the eye and say that we are Pakistanis and have a separate country from India and that’s what matters today, just like what matters in the context of Canada and the US is that they are separate countries, not whether it could or should have been otherwise.
Our identity crisis is also enhanced by the fact that Indians have still not fully come to terms with partition. Hence whenever one comes across an Indian, and the discussion drifts into politics, there is always a strong likelihood that the Indian will explicitly or implicitly express his nostalgia about partition, and in some cases, express the hope that partition can be undone. The legacy of issues like Kashmir, the very irritating arrogance of the Indians about their country and patronizing tone towards Pakistan, and the fact that India has been doing well recently all add up to confuse Pakistanis further.
It is also important to note that the term India historically covered Pakistan, India as well as Bangladesh, but after 1947, India has taken up this name. So even when people talk about the indus valley civilization, they often use the term ancient India without necessarily clarifying that it may in reality be referring to parts of Pakistan.
It is in this context that we must understand the contrast between our confusions about Pakistaniat and the relative confidence enjoyed by the Indians. Indians were not generally asked silly questions about their country the way our parents were when people abroad did not even know where Pakistan was. Even today, noone asks Indians why India exists or why it is a single country (instead of 15 or so ethnically distinct countries in its place, which might have been more natural than an entity artificially united by colonial rule).
India started the post-1947 period on a confident note without any doubts about its viability or threat to its national existance from a neighbour that did not want it to be. For Pakistan, the situation was clearly different. We did not inherit an administrative center like India got Dehli and had to build one from scratch. The way we were robbed during partition (on Kashmir as well as the share of assets) and issued threats about the flow of irrigation water was obviously bound to make us feel insecure. The break up of East Pakistan also did not help matters.
Having said all the above, I think the solution is for us to chil out about the obsession to define Pakistaniat and instead focus on getting some basics of politics and governance right. Almost all other countries (including India) have no solid justification for their existance and yet, they are not pre-occupied with justifying their existance. There is no need for us to single ourselves out. What matters is that we have a country today and we need to make it a success. That will give us some pride and confidence in ourselves and we will be able to face others with self assurance.
Baber: I can really understand your dilemma. A man can’t even choose to go to hell if he doesn’t like the company of the opposite sex since it appears that most of women are destined to populate it. Demography of both sites seems to be working against aurat-bezaar men — unless, like most rational persons, one does not believe in the fairy tale of yore, which started with Zoroastrian
Oh MQ the smarter one,
I get the point but why 72 and not 52 or 35? Is there a choice like say I want only 2 but not virgins, I prefer mines experienced.
Or say I don’t want women at all in heaven. One women as made my life like hell on earth and then 72 in heaven won’t be heaven for me then it would be a hell lot of hell.