O Brother Where Art Thou: An Open Letter to the Chief of Army Staff

I wrote this for the Express Tribune’s sunday magazine and they published a much shorter (“mutilated”, according to the editor dude) version.

The Chief in all his glory. (Image courtesy random google images search.)

General sahab,

I have been a silent admirer of you and your methods for a long time now. You have impressed all and sundry with your charm, your cool, your foresight and your prudent outlook on matters of great importance. You have admirers in the motherland, in the Enemy Nation across the border, the Great Red North and the Imperial Kingmaker, a hard feat that even your charismatic and skilled predecessor struggled to achieve. And yet, respected sir, I have a major bone to pick with you:

Where is my military coup?

With the predecessor, looking sharper than him. (Image courtesy random google images search)

I have waited with bated breath for you to step up to the plate and provide deliverance to us measly Pakistani and rid us of this corrupt, ineffective, incompetent and unpleasant dispensation, and put the country back on the path of progress and unbridled nationalistic fervor. I have bit my nails at odd hours and during moments of crises, waiting for you to appear on national television looking your usual dapper self, with an inspirational picture of the Quaid in the background, announcing the wrap-up of this nonsensical farce that has been running for two years now. And yet, you have not lived up to my expectations. I only have one question on my parched lips:

Where is my military coup?

I sat through many hours of the trudging Long March hoping you will seize the moment and send home these misguided champions of democracy and people power, only to see you display a reverential-yet-frustrating measure of restraint. I was on the edge of my seat, laddoos ready, during all of December 2009 hoping your friends and admirers in the media will finally convince you to heed their prophecies and put in place the ingenious and admirable Minus-One Formula. And yet again, you displayed your characteristic self-discipline. Watching Geo News every day, I cannot help but wonder:

Where is my military coup?

You went to the United States and were wined and dined by the most fashionable members of the World Capital’s foreign policy apparatus. They fawned over you and listened to your every word with wide-eyed wonder. You rather cleverly got your Boy, Mr Foreign Minister, to schmooze with the former First Lady and get cute pictures taken together that were mocked the world over, while you got down to the real business of deal-making with the powers-that-be. What a skillful move that was, General sahab – I must say I was left rather awestruck and dazzled by your aura. You also went to Europe and charmed our NATO allies with your great acumen and insights into the War and our nation’s crucial rule in its endgame. And all I could think was how a son of the soil was telling the world what rightful place our great nation deserves in the galaxy of global powers. People listened to us and respected our opinions – for the first time in an era, if ever, I might add – and you were our worthy voice. I saluted you then.

After Mumbai, when the Enemy Nation sent its fighter jets over for a brief reconnaissance mission, you scrambled our boys up in the air and drove the Enemy jets back over the border. You took pictures and nonchalantly passed on this message to the offenders: “Next time we will bring them down.” I felt proud to be a Pakistani that day, realizing you were guarding not just our physical borders, but also keeping watch on our much-maligned and always-threatened ideological frontiers, a task that the current dispensation, with its motley crew of misguided, traitorous, anti-Pakistan separatist loonies, is ill-suited to accomplish. And when the journalist from across the border wrote a two-part piece on you in The News, profiling you in great depth and showing reluctant admiration, I fawned with him. Finally, when Ayesha Siddiqua wrote her piece in Dawn, calling it you a man of destiny, I found a kindred spirit. My resolve was permanently strengthened and I vowed that day to support you in this noble endeavor that you are, as she implied, destined for.

And yet, General sahab, you are disappointing me. Your time at the helm is running out, and I am afraid that you will not grab at the opportunities that are presenting themselves. Please, for the sake of my nation and its ideologically motivated and endlessly frustrated citizens, I implore you to reconsider this restrained approach. You rid us of the monsters in Swat, and you can do so with those in Islamabad as well. I urge you to step up and claim what you are destined for. Make amends, sir, and take the throne that is rightfully yours, so that no other dispirited man like myself can longingly ask the question:

Where is my military coup?

Making your American airport experience more pleasant despite the baggage of the Green Passport

Update: This has been rendered useless as soon as it was written. After Times Square case, forget it: you’re in for it at airports.

We Pakistanis complain, and do so often, about the treatment meted out to us by security personnel at U.S. airports. After accounting for the general penchant of our countrymen to complain incessantly, there is no reason why this issue should miff them so much. Instead, it is far more productive for everyone to put up and make the most of this rather ‘unpleasant’ situation. In this piece I offer some practical tips regarding this matter to make your American travelling experience more efficient and comfortable.

Having travelled extensively on airplanes throughout America for the past two years, I feel confident enough to assert that I have mastered the delicate art of dealing with stringent checks and unpleasant security personnel. For your own sake, you are advised to listen to me.

First, smile a lot. Do not look mad. No one likes looking at a pissed-off Pakistani. It reminds everyone of Pervez Musharraf, and Americans don’t want to be reminded how he played them like a flute. Instead, show your bateesi like our current President. Smiling widely will help you ingratiate with the security guy, and will make both him and you feel more comfortable. You are also advised to exchange pleasantries; this is your chance to show off your newly acquired knowledge about U.S. sports and your local team.

Second, dress sharp. Wear a shalwar kameez to an airport at your own risk, no matter how dapper you think you look in your uber-desi attire. Preferably, wear a suit, especially if you are going to another big city. Everyone knows suits make men feel more confident, and this swagger is much needed at airports if you want to get through the security check faster. Americans tend to be a sucker for confident types, so utilize that to your advantage. Also, do not scratch down there, as that will make you look ridiculous at best and suspicious at worst. And we all know you don’t want that.

Third, and I say this with a very heavy heart, do not crack jokes at any point inside the airport. Remember that Qatari diplomat a few weeks ago who was smoking in an airplane toilet and then made a joke about lighting his shoes on fire when he was confronted by the flight attendant? Yeah, such flamboyance will only get you deported. And what will you do with only five hours of electricity? So, do yourself a favor and leave your funny side at home. Mind you, this is easier said than done: it is exceptionally hard to subdue your temptation of cracking a joke after all that confidence you have already built up by following my earlier advice of smiling and wearing a suit. It is indeed a fine line you will be expected to tread between flair and solemnity, and there will be significant pressure on you. But then, if we’ve learned anything from our national cricket team, it is that Pakistanis perform exceptionally well under pressure in an environment charged with sky-high expectations. You are in good standing, my fellow countryman, so stand proud and charm the pants off that mean-looking security dude.

Finally, and most important: despite this charm offensive, even if you randomly selected for extra screening, do not throw a hissy fit like some of our FATA senators did a few months back. Instead, feel proud when asked to stand inside that machine that reveals everything to everyone. It is important to know that the picture is being seen by one single person sitting in a different room. Enjoy the moment while it lasts; after all, this is probably the only chance you have as a desi man to get a gori to see you naked.

If all of these tips and tricks fail to satisfy you, just man up and get a U.S. driving license. You probably are over twenty-one years of age. (If you aren’t, well, you’re probably too young and irresponsible to be alone in this country in any case, and thus any harassment at airports is probably justified – stop getting drunk at college parties and go home to join daddy’s business.) Just go give a driving test (doesn’t it suck that they don’t accept bribes in America for this purpose?), get an I.D. card and use that to visit airports. Leave your green passport-to-hell at home, and pretend you’re an American. So, unless you really screw up like that Afghan idiot Najibullah Zazi, chances are your air travel will be free of hassles and discomfort.

I wrote this for the Express Tribune newspaper’s Sunday magazine. A slightly edited version appeared in it.