The Problem of Choice

There’s a line in Tim Burton’s 2010 film adaptation of Alice in Wonderland that very aptly describes the nature of my complicated relationship with this country I call home, “There is a place. Like no place on Earth. A land full of wonder, mystery, and danger! Some say to survive it you need to be as mad as a hatter – which luckily I am.”

I have a confession to make: I have never really voted. Ever. I have had the opportunity to vote twice in my life, but I never have. Yes, I have been this naïve, and more. I am one of those sad people who would never take part in the political process of their country and arrogantly declare that they couldn’t care less. I have been one of those people who are naturally averse to politics, thinking that it is something quite beneath them. This cold attitude has started to disturb me now.

I have given quite a lot of thought to this peculiar issue of mine in these last few months, I have. This weird indifference to the system could be my natural reaction to the forever -adverse state of affairs in this land of pure. It could be a sheer lack of enthusiasm due to a general lack of interest in politics or plain old laziness. Who knows, even I don’t. Whatever it is, it has kept me from voting.

But this time, I have decided to go for it.

I shall vote, not because the country needs me or because some ‘change’ shall miraculously occur in the system just because one fine morning I decided to vote, or because I’m a die-hard fan of this remarkable person or that dazzling person, and certainly not because as a citizen of Pakistan it is my duty. This emotional rhetoric does not work on me anymore. Sad, but that’s how I am.

I shall vote because this is perhaps the only real occasion where my opinion really matters, if it ever does, that is. If I opt to laze around at home, glued to my smartphone instead of going out there and making my otherwise docile voice heard; I quintessentially lose my right to criticize anything in those drawing-room discussions that I so fervently take part in.

I have been in a dire state of confusion on who to vote for. My folks are staunch PPP supporters, since my father belongs to the generation that saw the rise of Bhutto. They still can’t get over that phase, and I don’t blame them. Most people around me are inclined towards this supposed tsunami of change in the shape of PTI, which has arguably devoured the sanity of everyone. I don’t blame them either. To each his/her own, I’ve been taught— I’ll just stick to that.

But this voting confusion has turned into a bit of an existential dilemma of late. To tell you the truth, I am just sick and tired of everyone trying to manipulate this nation that has a natural penchant for extreme emotionalism.

I do not want ‘this’ Pakistan or ‘that’ Pakistan; I just simply desire an environment without the elements of fear and uncertainty. I want everyone to respect everybody else’s point of view and just let everyone breathe; and I want to be able to see that in my lifetime. Having said that, I am pretty certain that the much-touted ‘change’ is certainly not happening anytime soon. What matters right now is that the egalitarian progress in the country should not falter, however slow it may seem. Stability needs time – nothing that is insanely abrupt can prove to be effective in the long run. Well, according to my meek view of things, at least.

I am still undecided about what I am going to do with my vote. None of the candidates in my constituency catch my fancy. And I do not see a single reason, which would justify my voting for any one of them. Disappointing I know, but this is how it appears to me at the moment.  Sometimes I feel that I might just end up casting a protest vote, can’t really say.

But vote, I definitely shall, yes. No doubts about that now. And so should you – just to put it out there. Because that is the only way by which you probably ever can.

That reason alone should be sufficient.

(Originally published at pakvotes.pk)

 

Nightmares

To wake up haunted by a couple of grisly nightmares and eerie headaches has become a routine for me these days. I should probably think less and definitely lesser about whatever I consume my overworked mind with. I do not remember the last time i woke up and sprang out of bed to greet the day with vigour. I do not wish to be aware of whatever that’s happening to me. I think I finally am losing my mind that I so successfully managed to keep in one piece for such a long time. Or has this negative thinking gobbled up my entire being? I need to get out of this despondent attitude. This obsession of trying to make everybody happy shall be the death of me. Or perhaps it probably has killed me already, I don’t know.

My refusal to grow up is either my deepest mistake or my greatest achievement. I do not know what i have done to deserve to be like this. Everyone around me is changing. But i just do not know how to— i am not even sure if i really want to. But it is a curse. To be the same forever, to be stuck for an eternity in a self you’d not want to let go of, but still despise. To be confined to a specific era while the world around you moves on. Everyone you know changes, leaving you alone in a world that no longer exists. And the misery is more so if you think it should not, too.

People around me know better. They’re moving on…. They’re doing the right thing too. To think the way i do is a curse and i would not wish it upon anyone. Anyone at all.

Questions

One reason of my eternal unhappiness is the existence of a parallel world inside of me, a world that has a life of its own. It contradicts, confuses and attacks the ideologies that i have to confront in the real world. It’s like a constant battle that’s going on deep inside of me.

My difficulty is my own. Created by my very being. And it has been a part of me ever since i’ve become aware of myself. I need to look around me to see (im)perfect examples of people who are now well-adjusted to someone else’s idea of their lives. Why can’t i be one of those? Why can’t i just compromise, close chapters neatly, move on and never look back? I have been living this imaginary life of yesterday for too long now. Nostalgia, regret, could-have-beens… What is my life but a sum of all three of these?

Questions i ask are numerous and often inane.

Stubborn

Stubborn, I have become, these days. This attitude is something that defies my entire existence, or whatever it is, for I have not known myself to be stubborn ever. Perhaps it is the result of middle age– that menace, slowly sneaking up on me, and the resultant repercussions. Or perhaps it is just me, changing, or adjusting, or deteriorating, like we’re all supposed to but hope never to.

Change, as someone wise once said, is the only inevitable force we have to deal with in life—nothing else comes even close. I want to change; I do not want to change. It is this constant contradiction I face that almost defines my whole life. It is natural to develop insecurity when I  notice the urgency with which time is strolling towards the end of my stay on this planet. That continuous voice at the back of my head, that my chances to ever be able to achieve anything worthwhile are becoming dimmer and dimmer with each passing minute.

I stop for a moment, remind myself of all the joys that life has bestowed upon me, but it is not enough, it’s never enough. This loss of faith in oneself and one’s own abilities, this complete downtrodden feeling, this constant torture in one’s self-created hell and to wrestle with it on a daily basis must be enough to crack anyone.

The sudden realization that perhaps, this is it. Perhaps, I was born to do the mundane, perhaps I was destined to be one of the many who’d be lost in the crowd. I have never been satisfied with my life and it is a curse. I have always wanted more. What? I don’t know— a definite curse. But what if in the anticipation of more I have left myself incapable of enjoying what I already have at the moment? What if this is exactly who I am supposed to be? What if…? A number of what if’s actually.

I seriously do not know how to end this post. And perhaps tomorrow, I’d even curse myself for writing and posting it. But I’ll let tomorrow take care of that. I have work that needs to be done, deadlines to be met, procrastination that needs to be dodged, yet again. I am just tired of this constant phase of dreaming… and trying to work… and procrastinating, and trying to work. And not wanting to do it, but still doing it. And wanting to do it, but not knowing exactly what. Devastating.

And it is such a tough job, dealing with this illogicality, on a daily basis— such a bloody difficult job.

Written on 7th January, 2013

Today, at the breakfast table, I had the most interesting conversation with the 9 year old. She was inquisitive about why most of what we do in life doesn’t revolve around us despite it being given to us as our own. Her case was simple, if life is what we deem it is, we must make the most of it— that is with the share that we supposedly have, without being overly concerned about the judgment of people around us. But this simple argument of hers left me wondering about much more than it apparently suggests. I did not know what to say really. Life, I wanted to tell her, is not as simple as it may appear to a child. But i didn’t, because i was not sure of it myself. I have never been sure of what life really is. Perhaps life is as simple as a child would like to think of it, but as we grow older we tend to complicate it, like we tend to complicate everything else associated with it. I don’t know. I never will. I think.

My children; how they bewilder me at times with their seemingly innocent questions.