Tag Archives: zab

The Zardari Pinata

D. Asghar’s latest post for PTH:

Lately in many discussions, about various events which have unfolded in Pakistan, it appears that Pakistanis in or outside Pakistan, find only one person responsible, its President Asif Ali Zardari. To clarify, I reside in the US, have no affiliation with him or PPP. As a teenager, when I was in Pakistan, I admired ZAB, but according to my analysis, the ideals of PPP died along with ZAB on the ill fated day of, April 04, 1979.  Even late BB, failed to impress me as she made some huge blunders, and used ZAB’s name to advance her political career. There is no denying of this fact, that till this day PPP, uses ZAB and now BB as well to tap into the vote banks. It is the sheer charisma of ZAB, which still resonates with the masses.

Getting back to our infamous President, the blogospheres are on fire chastising him for almost any and everything. Whether it is the bomb blasts, floods, mob lynching or cricket betting scandal, he seems to be the target of everyone’s scorn. Undoubtedly, AAZ has a questionable past and his actions subsequent to taking the oath are definitely worthy of criticism, but definitely not worthy of any military intervention. Continue reading

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Filed under Democracy, Pakistan, Politics

A short walk through the rarified atmosphere at the crossroads of sirat-al-mustaqeem and the path of Tao

here by the bye
stoking the fire of courtship
among the many court-appointed courtesans
are the portly courtiers
with their ornamental pokers
wielded with a lack of
an imagination stunted at birth
and later jettisoned
in favour of the kind of rhetoric
often associated with machetes at dawn
or cantonese elegies for late chairman mao
whose face in partial silhouette adorns
the four-by-four centimetre analogue
that clings to my flat-screen monitor

he tells me that it’s nine thirty-ish
am or pm
looking past my shoulder into the middle distance
perhaps fondly recalling pir papa doc of na-pak sarzameen
and the last time they met in the old town of peking
way back when in the seventies
just before the one of them kicked the bucket
and the other returned home
with one foot in the grave
and the other in a jet-black jackboot
with the words pak-cheen dosti zindabad
stitched into the supple leather in
red white and green nasta’liq

minos – january 2008

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Filed under poetry, Politics, Theatre