The mad in the mad house

It’s official. This country is full of crazy people, and I can’t help but fall wonderfully in love with this madhouse called Pakistan. They don’t make it like this anywhere else in the world, do they?

Consider this: A random man drives into a sensitive high-security area along with his begum, two children and a couple of high-tech guns. He over-speeds, fights with the traffic police and casually starts shooting in thin air. In seconds, the cameras get there, the uniforms get there, the public gets there and together they set a stage for a live performance that has the whole country riveted to the TV screens for hours.

The man is called Sikandar and he is ticked off with the government for one thing or another (Well, who isn’t?). He guzzles energy drinks smokes cigarettes and asks for the Shariah law to be implemented in the country. His begum, equally ticked off for some other reason, walks to and fro between the husband and the authorities and tries to negotiate for the possible implementation of the said Shariah. Her black abaya flutters with its white diamond pattern, and her children tag along, frolicking around the surrounding greens.

The media goes berserk with the ratings game and starts digging for the wedding pictures of Mr and Mrs Ticked off. They make crisp little reports on the shooting drama and play them again and again with dialogues from Hindi films supplementing every ebb and flow of the narrative. The good thing about Hindi films is that they have dialogues to go with every situation. There is a Muqaddar ka Sikandar dialogue, there is the 007 kind of music to go, and also the most important Shahrukh Khan dialogue “Don ko pakarna mushkil hi nahin namumkin bhi hai” (better not translated in English).

The social media comes into action and hashtag IslamabadDrama starts trending widely. The police bashing begins, the government bashing begins, the media bashing begins, and all in all the big circus gets rolling where everybody blames everybody else and media people sit on media to say bad things about the media.

In the meanwhile the energy drink-guzzler gives the first interview of his life live on TV and announces to the world how he can’t tolerate vulgarity in Pakistan and how he is going to show his holy intentions by shooting his gun some more. Surprisingly, nobody bashes him for taking the name of Shariah in vain and no allegations of blasphemy are made from the concerned quarters.

On the contrary, media people keep digging with their ridiculous questions and grill him about his future plans for the country. Contradictory information is circulated, some fruitless negotiations are attempted by unarmed authorities, and some emotional pleading is done by the media persons.

And when all else fails, somebody goes and complains to the in-laws. The in laws, consisting of an unperturbed father-in-law, shrug all responsibility and tell the media to take a hike. And while the climax is building in the most sensitive part of Islamabad, in part of the cyberspace, the wonderful, quirky, dark Pakistani humour raises its head like it always does in such circumstances.

Every spectator has a comment to make. There are mothers who want tips from Mrs Mad Shooter on how to keep children without a toilet break in adverse circumstances. There are serious thinkers who look for resemblance between the former interior minister of Pakistan and the Isloo shooter.

When Mrs Shooter asks for pen and paper to write down her husband’s demands for the police, people start tweeting their wish lists to be included in the inventory. Some want an end to loadshedding, while some want Rehman Malik back in power. Some want removal of excise duty on imported goods, while others want Imran Khan to be the prime minister. There are even demands for Sikandar to negotiate for the YouTube ban to be lifted.

Amidst all this, criticism on the police continues and getting sick of the incessant commentary, the police decide to hide Sikandar’s car behind a glittery tent!

Considering that Sikandar et al are still free to frolic around the greens, this brilliant attempt at creating private moments with the culprit are highly questionable. Also, the tent, the likes of which are used in wedding receptions to serve food, is quite a damper for those watching the drama live.

Feeling cheated at the prospect of being deprived of their voyeuristic rights, those complaining about the media start complaining about the police, and those complaining about the police start complaining about the media. Things get a little more confusing, until out of the blue, a miracle occurs.

The man of the hour, the ultimate PPP jiyala man Mr Zamurrad Khan aka the true son of the party-of-no-compromises, literally jumps in and steals the show.

So this is what the wonderful rescue operation looks like. A man with noble intentions and a hefty built walks onto the scene. As the nation watches, he shakes hands with the two kids, and lo and behold he jumps somewhere at the knees of Mr Sikandar the shooter guy and gives us reason to go ballistic emotional and bursting from gloating at the bravery of a true son of democracy (yes, that’s what).

In a blur of activity, jiyala jumps, jiyala falls, jiyala vanishes, and somewhere in the wilderness President Zardari smiles. Some more shooting happens, some screaming is done, and congratulations world, Mr Sikandar has been caught. Moral of the story: Although a little clumsy for my taste, Mr Jiyala is truly a brave man. There is no doubt about that.

The only problem is that if those were my children going five hours without a wee wee break and standing there in close proximity of a deranged man with a gun, I would punch the jiyala first and ask questions later.

I mean it’s a very brave thing that Mr Khan did, but anything could have happened out there! To him, to the children, to anybody else. Why are we so foolhardy that we don’t understand a simple thing like that? Wait a second, I know why. It’s because we are the nation that doesn’t believe in seatbelts. After all so far we haven’t died of driving, have we? So why bother?

We are the same people who send our leaders out in mad crowds despite confirmed threats on their lives. We put them on rickety lifters without thinking what if the lifter cracks. We do all sorts of dangerous things and hope for the best. If something happens we lament and cry and hold vigils, and if we are lucky and nothing happens then we gloat over our greatness and continue to be as foolhardy as ever.

I am sure everybody thinks of me as a spoilsport for my observations, but then who cares? All I know is that one more day will pass, and nobody will even remember the Isloo Shooter any more. It was fun while it lasted, but we are sure there is something better happening somewhere else pretty soon. Like the by-elections and all.

Till then it’s au revoir. The writer is a graduate student at the University of Oxford, and faculty at LUMS. She tweets @adiahafraz Email: adiahafraz@gmail.com