Azadi Mubarak Qaidioun

My identity is at crisis; there is blood shed everyday, done in dark rooms and the ones in open chowks. My identity is striving to make ends meet; some molecules dying of hunger or dying of diarrhea because the medication is not available or is expensive. My identity is lavish; among the most fertile soils of the world with hearts of gold despite the hardships. My identity is unequal and philanthropic. My identity is both cruel and kind. My identity is in a state of rebellion but I want a harmonious identity, I want that the needs of all its atoms should be met. But parts of my identity don’t even tolerate some parts being named, hence a part of my identity remains lost - la maloom. My identity is both scattered and united. My identity is both the oppressed and the oppressor. 

I am free to operate the best I can in this world, as long as I adhere strictly to retain my privileges. For many that is freedom because they do this everyday at their work, social and personal lives. To a few that's worse but those are also usually the ones who end up jailed. Another irony of this strange world - ‘..haqeeqat jab afsana ban jaye..’. 

سازشیں لاکھ اڑاتی رہیں ظلمت کا نقاب  

لے لے کر ہر بوند نکلتی ہے ہتھیلی پہ چراغ

As the internal and external wars continue and I operate without any breakdowns, that’s nothing short of a miracle. 

To the outside world, I am poor. And poverty sits as a common enemy of all seven of the devil's deadly sins that are the religion of the rich of the world. And hence the most deserving of the discriminatory behavior. Irony is that poverty was caused by the very powers that are now locking gates, after taking so much. 

But this 14 August, this is just difficult to process. 

We need to do better, be better. 

Azadi Mubarak! Pakistan Zindabad.