Lord of flog

(An interview with so called Pakistani Taliban)

NFP imagines how a journalistic interview might go…

Salaam, Jamat Bin Jihad Bhai
Walaikumaslam!
How are you today?
Why do you want to know?
Just asking, sir.
You ask too many questions.
But I’m here to interview you!
No, I will speak and you will listen.
But …
Shut up, damn fool man!
But …
Quiet, or I’ll have you beheaded!
Gulp!
What?
I gulped.
Gulped what?
Err … air perhaps?
I thought I told you no questions!
But …
Keep quiet, you kaali chapati!
Kaali chapati?
Yes, that’s what you insects eat in Karachi, don’t you?
Do we? And what do you guys eat?
Is that a question?
Gulp!
You gulped again.
Yes.
Are you drunk?
No!
I think you are. I’ll have you flogged.
But …
Shut up, infidel! 80 lashes for you!
That’s not fair!
Okay, 75.
But …
Keep quiet. Now tell me, why did your newspaper send you here?
We want to know why your people have been flogging young girls?
Stupid question.
How come?
That’s now two stupid questions. Back to 80 lashes!
But, sir, why are you always lashing and flogging and beheading?
Stupid question number three. 101 lashes!
So be it!
Really?
Yes.
Okay, 79 lashes.
But why?
Because we are Muslims!
So are we in Karachi.
Nonsense! You all are pagans and women!
Women? That’s a gender.
How dare you! 109 lashes!
Huh?
Is that a question?
No, I mean …
Shut up, damn fool man! There is only one gender. Male!
How can you say that? God made women too.
1,000 lashes!
But why?
For committing sacralige.
But I didn’t!
You said God made women too.
But he did!
Quiet! 1,070 lashes!
Huh?
Another stupid question.
No it’s not.
Is so.
Is not.
Is so.
Is not.
Is so.
Is not.
Is so.
Okay, is so.
What?
I said, is so. I agree with you.
It’s a sin to let an infidel agree with you! 3,000 lashes!
But it’s your sin!
I am sinless!
But you kill, destroy, spread mayhem, behead, lash and flog!
Thank you.
You’re actually proud of this?
Just booking my place in paradise. You should too.
Really? How?
Here.
That’s a suicide jacket.
Yes. It’s cold up here. Wear it.
But I already have a jacket on.
Yes, but it doesn’t have the heavenly warmth of dynamite.
But I’ll die if the dynamite explodes.
Sure, and so would many other people around you.
But why should I kill them?
Because you are a true believer.
Oh, for heaven’s sake!
Exactly.
Can we get back to the girl’s flogging issue?
Wait a minute. Here, you see this goat?
Yes.
This is an educated goat.
Excuse me?
We are replacing girls’ schools with schools for goats.
But goats are animals!
So are women.
Oh, for heaven’s sake!
Exactly.
But why are you educating goats and not girls?
Because goats don’t talk back and aren’t immoral.
But men can be immoral too.
They can?
Of course.
I think you are trying to distract me with secular philosophy.
Tell me, what’s an educated goat like?
Like this one, here.
Yes, but it’s like any other goat.
So what should a goat look like, a dog?
I mean, how is she educated?
Educated goats eat less grass.
That’s crazy.
That’s a scientific fact.
Since when are you into science?
Oh, I know all about science. A djinn taught me.
A djinn taught you science?
Yes.
Can I see him?
He’s gone to Karachi. He does a TV show there.
A TV show?
Yes. He knows all about the conspiracies being hatched against the Muslims.
Really?
Yes, for example, recently he proved how the rays coming from the pyramid-eye on the dollar bill are creating earthquakes and the energy crises in Pakistan.
And you believe that?
Of course. Don’t you?
No.
Infidel! 19,000 lashes!
But I thought you were against watching TV.
I am.
Then what is your djinn doing on TV?
Educating goats.
Oh, for heaven’s sake.
Exactly.

Backyard bullies!

By: Nadeem F. Paracha in Featured Articles for Dawn

It was 1991. I'd just quit the University of Karachi and joined a weekly magazine as a feature writer. My office was on the fourth floor in a building on the I I Chundrigarh Road. I headed down to get myself a pack of cigarettes and a saada-khushbu paan. The moment I stepped out, my way was politely blocked by three young tableeghi jamaat recruits.
'Aslaamulalaikum,' said one of them in a swallowing Arabic accent. 'Walaikum,' said I.
'Jinaab,' he said, ever so courteously, 'it is time for Asar prayers, why aren't you at the mosque?'
'Well, why aren't you?' I asked.
'We will be, but we are already doing a naikh kaam (good deed),' he said.
'I see. What makes you think that I am not doing a naikh kaam as well?' I asked, equally politely.
'I'm sure you are,' he said. 'Par lagta hai aap namaz kum parh tey hein,' (it seems you do not pray much).
'How do you know that?' I replied, 'Kya namaazioon key parr hotay hain?' (Why, do praying people have wings?).
'Jinaab, if you don't want to go to the mosque, why not give some charity to it,' he said, still smiling.
'Charity for a mosque?' said I. 'Merey bhai, mosques are all that Zia-ul-Haq ever built in Pakistan. I think you people will please Allah more if you gathered charity for schools and hospitals instead!'
The guy smiled again, 'wo tho bohat hain (there are more than enough).'
'Acha. Yeh kab hooah? (Really? When did that happen?)' I laughed.
He shook his head, smiled, half-closed his eyes and said, 'Allah aap koh hidayat dey aur ….'
I interrupted: ' … Aur aap koh aqal!'
He didn't look very pleased, and without shaking my hand, walked away. Not smiling anymore.

__________________________


It was 1994. I was an assistant editor and columnist for an English daily in Karachi, on a visit to our Lahore office. I took a break to check out a book store at Liberty Market. There I was approached by kid in his late teens.
'Hello. You are NFP, right?'
'Err … yes.'
'I am Danish.'
'Hello, Danish.'
'I read your stuff,'
"Great.'
'It's very interesting. Keep it up'
'Thank you, Danish.'
'Okay. Nice meeting you Mr. Paracha.'
'Nice meeting you too Danish.'
Danish turned, paused, then turned to face me again.
'Mr. Paracha?'
'Yes, Mr. Danish.'
'Have you read the Koran?'
'Err … yes Danish I have.'
"In English?'
'Yes, Danish, in English.'
'How did it change you?'
'Why Danish, do you think I should change?'
'I was just wondering.'
'I see. Are you surprised that I have read the Koran?'
"Actually yes.'
'Well, Danish, will it also surprise you if I told you that I have also read the Bible, the Torah, the Bhagwat Gita, Karl Marx's Communist Manifesto and Hitler's Mein Kamph?'
'Right. But wasn't the Koran better?'
'I'll tell you what was better, Danish. Nirvana's third album was better than it's second. And I always thought Rocky I was better than Rocky-III.'
Danish was still. Almost expressionless. Then chuckled: 'Mr.NFP. Always trying to be different.'
'Yes, Danish. And so should you,' I said, handing him a Batman comic.
__________________________


It was 2002. I was working as a Creative Group Head at an advertising agency and sitting with the Creative Director who was a woman. A young female employee came into her office and complained that a male colleague of hers, a bearded man in his thirties, was constantly advising her to wear a duppatta.
The Creative Director kept her cool, sent the lady back to her seat and called the man.
'Why are you going around saying this to women?' She asked him.
He remained quiet.
She continued: 'I'm sure a lot of people do not like your beard, but has anyone over here ever told you to shave it off?'
The man was shocked. He looked at me and then the Creative Director. Then a weepy, squeaky 'sorry' appeared from deep down his throat.
'End of jihad,' I thought.
________________________________

It was 2006. I got a call from an agitated man on my cellphone. He was angry about a few articles of mine.
'How can you defend France's laws banning hijabs in public schools?' He asked, agitatedly.
'They've banned Sikh turbans and the wearing of Christian crosses and the Jew Star of David as well,' I told him.
'Yes, but the law is really against the Muslims!' He insisted.
'No,' said I. 'The law is against exhibiting overt religious symbols in public. France is a secular country and it has every right to do so. What if a European woman appears in a mini-skirt on Zainab Market? You will say, since you are an Islamic Republic, you have the right to ban such attire in public, wouldn't you? I think they tolerate a lot more hijabs and turbans in their country than we can ever tolerate crosses, shorts and skirts is in ours!"
'You are just against Islam!' Saying this, he simply dropped the line.
___________________________


It was 2007. My apartment building had run out of water. I accompanied the building's president to check the situation. The president called the chawkidar and said, 'Yaar, ever since you have come, we have started to have this water problem.'
The president then turned towards me and in all seriousness announced: 'Nadeem sahib, this chawkidar of ours does nor pray regularly.'
I nodded.
'You know,' the president continued in all earnest, 'the chawkidar we had before him used to pray right here over the water tank and ma'shallah we used to have tons of water!'
'Aab-e-zam-zam?' I asked, jokingly.
But the president remained serious. 'This guy should start praying here!'
'Right!' said I, slightly irritated. Then turning towards the embarrassed chawkidar I told him, 'You better start praying over the water tank. Who knows, this time we might even strike oil!'