Pakistan Today, Monday, 31 Oct 2011
Thanks to the wonders of Search Engine Optimisation, the PTI’s cyber army (or the Insafians, as they like to call themselves), will make sure that the online version of this article is defaced, discredited and, incidentally, a hit! You see, I happen to know that nobody, and I mean nobody, reads my articles. This is due to the simple fact that I do not aim to deliver hard-hitting journalism, only mildly offensive toilet humour. This, I understand, is not everyone’s cup of tea. Therefore, it is a gratifying thought that if I put the words ‘I**** K***’ in an article, it will boost my audience by at least 400 percent. But I will have to resist that temptation.
With the US presidential elections just around the corner, jalsa fever is sweeping our country too, in a way never seen before. Last weekend was all about street power. The cycle began with a recitation from Habib Jalib, continued into an orgy of curious liberal fascist youths and uncles who wanted to relive their 70s glory days; and culminated in a solemn sit-down on the streets of Karachi. That none of these public gatherings degenerated into violence is a great victory for democracy indeed. But what is the ‘truth’, as many armchair pundits like to ask? What is really going on in the minds of Super Sharif Jr, Big Bhai and the wrathful Khan? Like many of you, I would also have to confess ignorance. But that does not mean we cannot speculate.
For a good two years now, the Super Sharifs and their cronies have been in the closet about their anti-Pee Pee Pee ambitions. From being a friendly opposition serving up lollipop full tosses to the likes of The Babar Awan Ballistic Missile, the Noon League has arrived at a point where they have made outright demands for the departure of El Jefe Zardari and his merry men. The Khadim-e-Ala himself led the Minto Park symphony orchestra in a tune that would’ve put a smile on the face of Abu Hamza bin Musharraf himself. Sharif Jr’s overtures hinted at a psychosis that manifests itself as thus: the land of the pure needs to be cleansed of the ills that afflict it; we have the cure and you are the disease. What the man fails to realise is that thanks to the countless ‘intelligent’ decisions his party has made over the past year or so, they are no longer even an all-Punjab party. This does not bode well for leaders whose delusions of grandeur surpass even their own appetites for desi food.
King Khan, on the other hand, most definitely stole the show with his Sunday brunch-cum-rally. The reason for his success is that his gatherings cater to all audiences possible. While only members of the Dead Poet’s Society could be seen at the Sharif jalsa, the PTI party was rocked by young men and women, uncles who had come to see what the young men and women got up to, enterprising food vendors and aspiring musicians who wanted to get noticed, and anyone else who was still ambivalent about whether to go cast their vote or not. Nobody (in their right minds) was there to actually see the man himself. But they definitely heard him coming. In one of the most succinct and coherent speeches he has ever given since the final of the 1992 World Cup, PTI’s spiritual leader showed the world that he was more than just a reverse swinger with a charm irresistible to women who had entered and passed puberty.
The Big Bhai convention, on the other hand, was business as usual. Bored out of their minds and eagerly awaiting the promised Rs 1000/head they were promised in exchange for wasting an otherwise unproductive Sunday, the hordes at Bhai’s khitaab were not all voluntary attendees. While the same can be said for nearly all of the other jalsamongers, it must be said that the spectre of an untimely demise did not really hover over those who refused to attend the PTI rally.
The political rally, historically, serves a dual purpose. While it is most definitely a show of strength and a flexing of muscles for both the newcomers as well as the old guard; it allows the sheep (who are the electorate) to decide which wolf they would rather sleep with. While the jury is still out on who had the best Wolf costume this Halloween, it is painfully obvious that the sheep are going to get eaten, either way.
Thanks to the wonders of Search Engine Optimisation, the PTI’s cyber army (or the Insafians, as they like to call themselves), will make sure that the online version of this article is defaced, discredited and, incidentally, a hit! You see, I happen to know that nobody, and I mean nobody, reads my articles. This is due to the simple fact that I do not aim to deliver hard-hitting journalism, only mildly offensive toilet humour. This, I understand, is not everyone’s cup of tea. Therefore, it is a gratifying thought that if I put the words ‘I**** K***’ in an article, it will boost my audience by at least 400 percent. But I will have to resist that temptation.
With the US presidential elections just around the corner, jalsa fever is sweeping our country too, in a way never seen before. Last weekend was all about street power. The cycle began with a recitation from Habib Jalib, continued into an orgy of curious liberal fascist youths and uncles who wanted to relive their 70s glory days; and culminated in a solemn sit-down on the streets of Karachi. That none of these public gatherings degenerated into violence is a great victory for democracy indeed. But what is the ‘truth’, as many armchair pundits like to ask? What is really going on in the minds of Super Sharif Jr, Big Bhai and the wrathful Khan? Like many of you, I would also have to confess ignorance. But that does not mean we cannot speculate.
For a good two years now, the Super Sharifs and their cronies have been in the closet about their anti-Pee Pee Pee ambitions. From being a friendly opposition serving up lollipop full tosses to the likes of The Babar Awan Ballistic Missile, the Noon League has arrived at a point where they have made outright demands for the departure of El Jefe Zardari and his merry men. The Khadim-e-Ala himself led the Minto Park symphony orchestra in a tune that would’ve put a smile on the face of Abu Hamza bin Musharraf himself. Sharif Jr’s overtures hinted at a psychosis that manifests itself as thus: the land of the pure needs to be cleansed of the ills that afflict it; we have the cure and you are the disease. What the man fails to realise is that thanks to the countless ‘intelligent’ decisions his party has made over the past year or so, they are no longer even an all-Punjab party. This does not bode well for leaders whose delusions of grandeur surpass even their own appetites for desi food.
King Khan, on the other hand, most definitely stole the show with his Sunday brunch-cum-rally. The reason for his success is that his gatherings cater to all audiences possible. While only members of the Dead Poet’s Society could be seen at the Sharif jalsa, the PTI party was rocked by young men and women, uncles who had come to see what the young men and women got up to, enterprising food vendors and aspiring musicians who wanted to get noticed, and anyone else who was still ambivalent about whether to go cast their vote or not. Nobody (in their right minds) was there to actually see the man himself. But they definitely heard him coming. In one of the most succinct and coherent speeches he has ever given since the final of the 1992 World Cup, PTI’s spiritual leader showed the world that he was more than just a reverse swinger with a charm irresistible to women who had entered and passed puberty.
The Big Bhai convention, on the other hand, was business as usual. Bored out of their minds and eagerly awaiting the promised Rs 1000/head they were promised in exchange for wasting an otherwise unproductive Sunday, the hordes at Bhai’s khitaab were not all voluntary attendees. While the same can be said for nearly all of the other jalsamongers, it must be said that the spectre of an untimely demise did not really hover over those who refused to attend the PTI rally.
The political rally, historically, serves a dual purpose. While it is most definitely a show of strength and a flexing of muscles for both the newcomers as well as the old guard; it allows the sheep (who are the electorate) to decide which wolf they would rather sleep with. While the jury is still out on who had the best Wolf costume this Halloween, it is painfully obvious that the sheep are going to get eaten, either way.
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