Did you know that there is a pre-historic animist religion called Kalasha -  a religion still practised and cherished by the Kalasha people of the Hindu Kush valley? Are you also aware that the Kalasha people don’t even have an option to choose their religion in the ‘religion box’ endorsed by the National Database and Registration Authority (NADRA)? Nadra came under scrutiny when it refused to rectify typographical errors it had made of a Christian MPA Rana Mahmood that identified him as a Muslim on his national identity card. The issue drew a considerable amount of attention from both the media and human rights activists, who criticised Nadra for various violations of fundamental rights. Following the criticism, Nadra issued an official statement apologising for the error made. The statement reads:

[A] High level inquiry was ordered by the authority to investigate the matter as to why such inconvenience was caused to our honourable MPA… [I]t was revealed that a Nadra data entry operator had mistakenly put his religion down as Islam because of his Muslim-sounding name.

We didn't have any option to have our religion on our identity cards like everyone else, even though our religion is the oldest of all, so we brought the matter to the attention of MP Bhandara (MNA elect for minorities), when he visited the Kalasha Valleys. He made an effort to convince the authorities to include the Kalasha religion in the list of religions but they didn’t register Kalasha instead they included ‘others’ in the list of religion as an option.

Pakistanis would view Kalash culture with disapproval but nevertheless many, mostly men, still flock to the valleys from around the country to experience the liberation the festival offers. The Kalash use the blanket term "Punjabi" for the Pakistani men who suddenly show up in the village staring at women, trying to "chat them up", and making many feel uncomfortable. They do not consider themselves Pakistani. In fact, they call anybody from elsewhere in the country "Pakistani" - as if that term would not cover themselves as well.

As a rejected son, how do you celebrate Mother’s Day? Who enjoys the breakfast tray? Who receives the flower bouquet? That’s my story. But it’s not my biological mother who rejected me. It’s my motherland – Pakistan. So on this Mother’s Day, let me have a heart to heart talk with you - my motherland. You don’t want to accept my love; that’s your choice. I have learned to deal with that. But please answer my questions, for I have lots of them. Why did you abandon me? Why did you institutionalise hatred against me in schools, workplaces and houses of God? Why did you throw me at the heap of your putrid, discriminatory legal system? Why did you exhume my people and not even shed a tear? You were not my step-mother; then why did you treat me like Hansel and Gretel? Only because I remained resolute to call myself an Ahmadi M _  _  _ _ _ ? See, you cannot even handle a hint of my identity. But isn’t it true motherland, that the father of our nation, Quaid-e-Azam, promised all children of Pakistan equal status and equal rights when the nation was born? As for me, despite the fact that I moved to a foreign land, it was hard to move on. For days, I couldn’t eat or sleep well. For months, I worried about your weather. For years, I dreamed of your streets. And for over a decade, I pulled all nighters to watch your cricket matches, frantically praying for your success. I argued with my Indian friends – yes, there is nothing wrong with having Indian friends – how Pak-pride was not a fallacy. There was an element of fallacy though, I now realise. Like other nations, you also served us the soup of patriotism, mixed with indoctrination. How you indoctrinated the nation to forget about the Munir commission report of 1953, how the textbooks programmed us to believe that we won the 1965 war, and how generations were brain washed in believing that a National Assembly has the right to copyright Islam. Just a few weeks ago, I gagged on that soup when I claimed that we won the 1965 war. After reviewing history books, encyclopedias, and YouTube clips, I threw up the contaminated ingredients of the soup. We did not win the 1965 war. The facts were clear. But who cares about facts in Pakistan these days? Facts are dry. Propaganda is juicy. It is juicy to blame everything on a conspiracy theory. Go ahead. Blame me for being an “agent of the west who got an American visa on a plate.” Never mind the two decades of my hard work at school. Never mind the more than two million Pakistani Ahmadi residents, with no prospects of getting a visa, who are still facing daily rejection at your hands. Motherland – I understand. You don’t appreciate this conversation. You are hurting too. So here is an analgesic; I still remember you. The Rockies remind me of Swat and the meat balls taste nothing like the koftas (remember, the secret nickname of my high school chemistry teacher was also kofta!) The Main Street brings flashbacks of Lahore’s Mall road and Jersey shore is not the same as Clifton. You are 65-years-old motherland and I recognise you need me. You need the millions of Pakistanis who were shunned to distant shores, many because of religious differences. We could be helping your systems, building your institutions, treating your patients. And we would love to. But your preferences are weird motherland. You release convicted terrorists and arrest Ahmadi students. You embrace politicians with fake degrees and reject scholars with Nobel Prizes. You glorify the charlatans but nullify the bona fide. Don’t worry about me; my adopted mother has treated me well. I don’t fear discriminatory laws. I don’t fear mob attacks. I don’t fear a National Assembly telling me how to define my faith. Vindicate yourself motherland. Take some bold decisions. Come out of isolation. Instead of converting to Mullah’s radicalism, revert to Quaid’s Pakistan. Espouse true Islam by cherishing the values of equality and absolute justice for all. Don’t allow politicians to use religion as a wedge issue. Come to the 21^st century as a pluralist country committed to standing shoulder to shoulder with the modern world. Whenever that happens, you will find me holding a breakfast tray and a flower bouquet. Whenever that happens, I will say, “Happy Mother’s Day.” Read more by Faheem here, or follow him on Twitter @FaheemYounus

Just like any thriller, the sequence of events surrounding the Olympics visa scam, leaves one completely dazed. First came the not-so-shocking revelation that one can get a fake Pakistani passport and if you can dole out more money, even a spot in the Olympic squad, as the British tabloid, The Sun recently insinuated. Countless counter-allegations and some multiple arrests later, National Database and Registration Authority (Nadra) has now come out saying that the whole scam episode is in itself a scam altogether. However, there are still many unanswered questions hanging in the air. Some quarters immediately started saying that this was an attempt to malign the Pakistani contingent, and to hollow down their hopes of acquiring gold. A peak down history lane is a must to answer this specific criticism. Let’s look at the country’s past performance at the Olympics; The best Olympics we have had were way back in 1960, when we won just two medals. The last medal we ever won, which wasn’t a shiny gold one mind you, was at Barcelona in, not surprisingly, Field hockey back in 1992, where we won a bland bronze medal. And that is where the sorry tale ends. This short bout of history should be enough to silence any conspiracy-courting jesters. Coming back to the scam, a number of things need to be pointed out. Nadra claims that The Sun correspondent was himself present for the renewal of his expired CNIC, as opposed to The Sun's claim that it was someone else’s identity that was being hijacked. Even though Nadra has one of the best systems in the world right now, this episode highlights the need for red-flagging for unusual requests i.e. renewal after quite some time or renewal for someone based outside Pakistan. If such systems are already in place, then they ought to be made more stringent. In all honesty, fake visa scams are not something completely new to us. We know there are dodgy people out there, who are willing to compromise national sovereignty and respect for some lowly green-backs. Having said that, the visa process has become more and more complicated now, as host countries continue to become aware of these wrongdoings; proactive steps have been made by all visa issuing authorities to curb this illegal activity. The British tabloid, however, alleged that a politician with links to the sports board acted as a liaison in potentially getting a visa. This needs to be thoroughly investigated and severe repercussions need to be meted out to any culprits involved. Most importantly, this whole scenario should serve to highlight the plight of the athletes in Pakistan. With hardly any resources at their disposal and almost no state support, the system is going quickly redundant. No wonder then, that the situation is dire, and there are hardly any Olympic-level athletes. Pakistan’s squad this time around includes 23 players and 16 officials. This includes the wildcard entrant long-distance runner Rabia Ishaq, who is one of the nation’s two female athletes. Rabia has gone on record to say that her participation is symbolic and dedicated to the deceased female sprinter Mubeen Akhtar. And with the disarray and controversy surrounding hockey in the build-up to the Olympics, any hope for any medal whatsoever would indeed be a miracle. And as a nation, we tend to forget that miracles happen to honest and sincere people, not visa-scamming artful dodgers. Read more by Dr Rai here or follow him on Twitter @MAliRai

“What’s so special about this special Computerised National Identity Card (CNIC)?” I asked.

“It will give you small privileges over the rest of the people.” “Such as?” I asked, curious. “You won’t have to wait in any long lines, for instance, and all of your work will be done on fast track.”

The May 11, 2013 elections were historic for Pakistan. The eyes of the world as well as the hopes of the country were pinned on them. These elections deserved the full attention of officials who were responsible for their execution. However, the fact that inaccurate software was used is inexcusable. All software used to decide the fate of a country should be state-of–the-art and the best possible available, not technology that has been discarded as being inaccurate, for what is the point of even having elections if the date is not correct? On October 7, 2013, the National Database Registration Authority (NADRA) submitted its report of thumbprint verification for NA-256 (Karachi) to the election tribunal. Few weeks ago, Nadra also submitted a similar report for NA-258 (Karachi). Data on both reports showed substantial irregularities in both constituencies during the May 11 general elections. The data for both constituencies (NA-256 and NA-258) looked distinct at first glance but, when subjected to a thorough analysis, the similarities became obvious. The results from NA-256 and NA-258 are shown in the Table.

“Increase capacity has been achieved through Automated Fingerprint Identification System (AFIS) software development by Nadra’s own engineers.”

NICOP and Smart NICOP facilities were started by NADRA in an attempt to assist overseas Pakistanis who send a considerable amount of their income to Pakistan and invest in the country despite the deplorable situation here. Here is the sad story of my pursuit to get this card.  My first attempt:  On October 20, 2013, I made my first attempt to acquire the Nicop. For that, I went to the Nadra office at Deans Trade Centre in Peshawar. After having spent two hours waiting in the queue at the token counter, I was told by the officer that the Nadra Dean Centre office did not accommodate applications for the ordinary Nicop and that I would have to apply for the Smart Nicop for which the fees was Rs7,300. Since I had already been waiting so long, I could not fathom going all the way to the Gulbahar office and enduring the agonising wait again. Instead of wasting that time and energy, I just decided to apply for the Smart Nicop and continue with my application here. By this time, it was 12:30pm and the office was scheduled to have a lunch break. I was told that work would recommence after the break which would end at 2:00pm. The office was set to close at 3pm. Rather than sitting idly at the office, I decide to walk up to the market next door and get something to eat. I was back at the office at exactly 2 o’clock and there were over 20 people already standing in line. This time, however, I only stood in line for half an hour before reaching the front. At the counter I was asked to produce my identification card and passport; both were thoroughly checked before I was told that the fees for the Sweden Nicop was Rs9,700. Irritated at the fact that this price was higher than the one previously quoted, I told the person behind the counter that I would like it to be standard delivery, to which I was told that ‘that particular office’, once again, only dealt with executive applications. I was to receive my Nicop within 10 days. Blaming my own bad luck and with no other option left, I told the officer to go ahead and process my application. After all of this, I was sent to the photograph and finger printing section. The officers there seemed to be in the foulest mood and did not have any qualms in venting their anger on the applicants walking in. Having committed the crime of being an innocent applicant, I too had to undergo rude behaviour from the attendees. Breathing a sigh of relief after ending that part of the process, I was sent to the data entry section. It seemed the office staff suffered from a general disgruntled disposition. Ill-mannered employees filled the space and I was unfortunate enough to encounter another rather discourteous lady behind the data entry counter. In a somewhat crass manner, the lady asked me for my Swedish passport – which, unfortunately, I had not taken with me – I showed her my Swedish ID card instead in an attempt to prove my identity. Apparently, that was not enough and I was told that the application could not be processed without the passport. Seeing that my bad luck had caught up with me again I had no choice left but to cancel my application, take my money back and return the next day with the rest of the required documents. My second attempt: On October 23, 2013, I went back to the same office as a second attempt to get the Nicop. Following the same procedure, I waited in queue for a little over an hour before I made it to the front. All the formalities were the same - as were the modds. I was greeted, yet again, by uncouth staff members who took some sort of pleasure in making people wait. Finally, after a three hour struggle, I received a printed form that I was meant to take to the manager who would further scrutinise and sign it. The general disposition of the office seemed to rubbing off on me as well and my patience was wearing thin too. The crude manager asked for me to get the forms attested by a gazetted officer or local government office bearer and come back. Frustrated with the fact that a computerised ID card and passport was not sufficient enough to prove my identity and an unnecessary formality was being thrust upon me for which I could not come up with any reasonable logic. I tried to reason with the gentleman and explain, that as my passport and ID card were both computerised, getting my documents attested would be a redundant and time consuming procedure. At the demand for still producing an attested copy of the form and I hung my head and walked out the office. What I hadn’t realised at this point was that I was not closely connected to any government personnel who could attest my documents and in Pakistan, you need one of those. I asked the person at the information desk if there was any other option I could avail and explained that I was going to be travelling to Islamabad that same day. He said the only option I did have was to cancel my form, get my money back and come another day. He said regardless of when I come, however, I will have to get the form attested. Since there was nothing else I could do, I spent another hour reversing the entire process. I cancelled my form, got my money back and winced at the thought of another day in the company of uncivil Nadra employees. Key takeaways: During the two days I spent making rounds of Nadra, I witnessed and learnt a lot. I observed ordinary citizens being given VIP treatment because they seemed rich. I saw uniformed personnel being given royal treatment by the same employees who were often rude and impolite to me. The ill-mannered manager was seen ‘hosting’ a charade of VIP’s who were told to relax and sip their tea while their work was conveniently being done by the Nadra staff. Bribes were being offered and taken by most, whilst the others were busy ‘name dropping’ to get their work done faster. These ‘connections’ were used by many to violate standard procedures and others were made to wait until ‘their turn’ would come. What bothered me most was the sight of ordinary people, much like you and me, who had been waiting in line for hours like responsible citizens. But what did we get out of this wait? What I came to realise was that while I was putting up with ill-mannered officers and uncivil staff, there were people who were still getting their work done - much faster than me! Those people, who threw their money or connections around managed to get their work done within no time and leave the premises satisfied with their accomplishments. I went there twice and returned empty handed. It makes me wonder, should I really have been an honest person? Apparently being a law abiding citizen here doesn’t count for anything.

It has been 65 years since Pakistan’s independence. During this period, Pakistan has seen a lot of transition. From Ayub Khan’s industrialisation to Zulfiqar Ali Bhutto’s socialisation, to Ziaul Haq’s Islamisation to Musharraf’s enlightened moderation and war on terror, we have had our fair share of ideologies and doctrines. Being a 22-year-old, average Pakistani guy who hasn’t seen most of these periodic transitions, I can naively (and safely) assume one similarity between all of them – the class divide in our society has remained unchanged throughout these six and a half decades. Every now and then I come across drawing room discussions where people, in their own interpretation of patriotism, talk about how countries like India still have caste systems which are driving their lower income groups into the ground. To be honest, the class system that thrives in our own country is far worse because unfortunately, we do not even acknowledge that it exists. It is a silent hollow gap in society that persists without anyone noticing, or paying attention. Where can this class divide be seen you ask? The NADRA office in Defence, Karachi -- an upscale neighbourhood -- is a good example. It is an executive branch boasting air conditioning and vastly better and faster services than those of their counterparts. Or visit our passport offices, where they have a system of what they call ‘urgent passport renewal’. Let’s be honest, anyone who has applied for urgent passport renewal knows that it takes more time than the period specified. I have applied for early renewals two times so far, and have never received my passport in time. So you want your passport renewed in time? Just fork out money and the date of renewal is guaranteed. The passport office gives a clear cut message -- if you have the money, you will have your issue resolved in no time. If you don’t, well then, tough luck – wait in line and pray. People who are privileged get a better system. The difference of quality between private and public education is another, astounding discrepancy. It is common knowledge that teachers in public schools are paid next to nothing, are ill-trained and have no interest in their work. Due to this attitude, the quality of learning suffers, and this is just one of many issues plaguing public schools. Most of my family members live abroad and send Zakat frequently for the purpose of educating children, but the money always comes with a disclaimer: please spend the money on private education for underprivileged children. You can clearly see the irony here. There is no faith in public education, yet that is the only affordable option available for the vast majority of Pakistanis. The most mind boggling instance of  the class divide that I have encountered is in luxurious clubs, such as those in DHA, one of which has a sign that states: ‘servants not allowed’. Such a sign is such a straightforward example of the class divide that I actually appreciated their (ugly) honesty.  It did however remind me of what I see in pre-partition movies about British clubs in the subcontinent, putting up signs like:

‘Dogs and Indians not allowed’

"There should be four children born in slums to maintain the standard of one child born in your house."

Being a twin has not been easy for me, especially living in Pakistan. We’ve been stopped at restaurants, airports and even in the middle of the road by well-intentioned but annoying strangers. Some would ask us if we were twins (as if it wasn’t obvious) and would marvel at our likeness when we confirmed it while others preferred to waste our time by playing ‘spot-the-difference’ and bombarding us with irrational, overly-personal and clichéd questions. At the passport and driving licence offices, our National Identity Cards (NIC) have even been locked repeatedly because the computer detected one of us as a ‘suspect forging another identity’. Of course, that should have been expected since the National Database and Registration Authority’s (NADRA) inefficiency never lets anyone down. While growing up, I have come across so many senseless questions that I often end up laughing at how unintelligent people can be. Here are a few of the most common and irritating questions and comments I have been subjected to so far. 1. Are you two twins? (I am asked this question at least three times a day).

Nah, she’s just my stunt double.

No, but if I punch you, you’ll definitely feel it.

Ummm… no, calm down.

No, you probably wouldn’t, trust me. So, don’t even bother thinking about it.

I cannot begin to tell you how much these questions annoys me. On the one hand, people can’t stop gushing over how identical we are or how much our personalities match but when it comes to being smart, pretty or clever, they expect us to be complete opposites. I really don’t know where these stereotypes of ‘good versus evil’, ‘smart versus dumb’ and ‘pretty versus ugly’ came. Maybe it has something to do with the media’s portrayal of twins. You know… Cody is smart, Zack is stupid or Cody is reserved, Zack is outgoing. Even Mary Kate and Ashley are apparently polar opposites. But people need to understand that not all twins are opposites.

In the last 18 years of my life, I have never completed a single sentence of my sister’s. Although I love JK Rowling, the image of twins she’s portrayed through Fred and George is simply wrong!

I have now stopped even trying to control myself from rolling my eyes at this one. I mean, really? You’ve got to be kidding me!

No, we wear name tags at home so that they know which one they are talking to! Any other stupid questions you need answers to?

Yes, very often I wake up with no knowledge of who I am and then, I to look at myself in the mirror and try very hard to figure out if I’m myself or my twin.

Does it really matter?

Yes, because that’s what twins do. They marry other twins and that’s how the phenomenon of ‘twinhood’ continues in this world. How illogical can you be?

Please, please read a biology book.

Um no, we’re not. Not even close. We’re us.

Sigh…

Um... what?

How would I know? We don’t have a natural GPS system installed inside us.

No, you probably won’t; not unless you are four-years-old or something.

Yeah sure because I have nothing better to do.

This was asked by an exam invigilator and believe me, it took a lot of self control not to scream at him because we were in the middle of an exam.

Please, please ask my parents.

This is the one question that actually does make sense but even this is asked with such repetition that it’s enough to make me run away screaming.

Recently I had the opportunity to visit Bannu district, where the majority of the 500,000 plus Internally Displaced Persons (IDPs), primarily from Mir Ali and Miranshah in North Waziristan Agency, have moved to escape the military operation called Zarb-e-Azb (apparently) against the terrorists who continue to threaten the people of Pakistan. This is not the first displaced population I have seen or engaged with close up, but the feeling of being overwhelmed never fails to leave. As one enters the garrison town of Bannu, visibly under the control of and closely monitored by the military, roadblocks line all entrances of the town of approximately one million (Pakistan has not had a census in 15 years). Hence, it is difficult to ascertain exactly how a sleepy forgotten town has suddenly become the centre of attention, it is palpable. The streets, which are single lane dirt roads, badly paved, potholes all over, are crowded with the new male residents, sitting on the roadsides on charpoys, broken walls, huddled in groups all over town. Some of the smaller distribution points, of relief goods, from the world food program, are recognisable by the haphazard lines of turbaned Waziris crowding around an area for the relief goods. There is no sign of women, local or visiting, North Waziris in these public spaces. The only women I saw in public were in the clothing section of the main bazaar. 10-15 shops where shuttle cock clad women were shopping for the upcoming Eid, browsing through bangles, reams of cloth for their Eid outfits or buying henna, heaped on carts, to decorate their hands in celebration of the end of Ramadan. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="441"] Photo: Nilofer Qazi[/caption] The collected data, to date, suggests that over 75% of the internally displaced people are women and children. So naturally, one wonders where the women and children in this small town are. More importantly, is the relief effort targeting women and children? If these women are not visible, is the effort seeking to find them? I was informed any attempt of the displaced women to access the distribution points is met with aggressive denial, both by the local Bannu elders and the Waziri men; they object to women directly receiving relief goods or standing queues alongside ‘others’ publicly. Hence, after (apparently) a few violent incidents where men were seen beating women out of relief goods queues, the army issued a public notice that no women would be allowed to come into the main distribution point at the sports complex. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="441"] Photo: Nilofer Qazi[/caption] The problem with this is obvious; since there is absolutely no way to ensure women and children are receiving the relief that is their share; we have no way of knowing if goods and services are getting to the most vulnerable. Furthermore, there are many (the numbers of whose are unclear Khwande Khor has an assessment of 90 families in February, 2014) women -headed households, widows, single women, women with elderly men/unwell men/young male children, who are unable to access these goods or services on their behalf. This was an assessment they made before the operations started, but the first wave of IDPs had started to come to Bannu. There is an inter cluster (UN multi-sector assessment underway), which is supposed to provide a better idea of needs across sectors which includes vulnerable families. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="441"] Photo: Nilofer Qazi[/caption] In the searing heat thousands lined up (men only), like sardines in tight lines, under a thin straw canopy outside the Bannu sports stadium. Guarded and monitored by the army, these displaced citizens wait for days on average, I am told 24 hours to three days, to go through ‘security’ before they are let into the sports complex, where the largest of the five distribution points of both food and non-food items are stored. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="441"] Photo: Nilofer Qazi[/caption] The following is the procedure of verification for the internally displaced: 1. Go to NADRA office to share your CNIC card, proving you are from NWA, and receive a blue (if from Peshawar) or Green (from Bannu) card providing you eligibility for relief goods. 2. If you do not have a CNIC card, you will have to prove you are from NWA. This proof is established at the District Coordinator’s office, where two ‘maliks’ from NWA (I assume they are from Mir Ali and Miran Shah), who question you and ‘authenticate’ your credentials of the claim you have come from NWA. Once you have the verification card you may go to the distribution points to receive goods and services. 3. The sports complex is the largest distribution point where WFP and various relief charities have set up camps to give relief items. If you cannot access the sports complex you are unable to receive the total available relief goods offered to IDPs. 4. Inside SRSP managing the NFI for WFP who also give another separate receipt, once a package is handed over, monitoring the family member’s entitlement of receiving a monthly package for three months. This data is uploaded in a database. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="441"] Photo: Nilofer Qazi[/caption] I saw separate distribution tents for each ‘agency’ donated by different agencies/government officials/non-governmental organisations: 1) UNHCR/World Food Program, managed by Sarhad Rural Support Program Army or armed forces: food packages and water [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="441"] Photo: Nilofer Qazi[/caption] [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="441"] Photo: Nilofer Qazi[/caption] 2) Army or armed forces: food packages and water The armed forces packages are food item [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="441"] Photo: Nilofer Qazi[/caption] 3) Best, a non-governmental organisation [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="441"] Photo: Nilofer Qazi[/caption] 4) Government of Punjab: food packages and water 5) Government of Azad Kashmir 6) Zong/UBL: distributing cell phone Sims and separate counters for cashing the transfers once activated [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="441"] Photo: Nilofer Qazi[/caption] 7) Registration desk of SRSP on behalf of Fata Development Authority to register IDPs and register in the Database of WFP of the number of NFI distributed to the families to avoid duplication. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="441"] Photo: Nilofer Qazi[/caption] 7a) Two women SRSP registration officers in a separated tent to facilitate women [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="441"] Photo: Nilofer Qazi[/caption] 8) Lone social welfare official: responsible for assisting and facilitating children, minors, ‘orphans, lost from families, traumatised or drop out from schools’; this activity and department is currently ‘supported’ by UNICEF and will be further strengthened by the induction of SRSP support staff. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="441"] Photo: Nilofer Qazi[/caption] [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="441"] Photo: Nilofer Qazi[/caption] A very obvious observation is, since it is next to impossible to enter the sports complex unless you are male who has a CNIC card with a registration card, you cannot access the relief goods or services on offer. Thus, in light of the following constraints: 1. Televisions are not common in Bannu; hence, public messages are difficult to share. I did not see any loudspeakers or public screens giving relevant public information targeting the internally displaced families. 2. Radios are also uncommon amongst most families. 3. Since the host shelters primarily consist of the 600 schools across Bannu, there are no public information message platforms from which these people can access information. 4. I did not see NADRA mobile units or any messaging from them in public spaces. It is very clear that children, and many of IDP men and women, especially women have no identity cards. The cultural barriers of limiting women have not been overcome and this is highly problematic. Both, for human rights and security reasons, the state cannot allow ‘cultural’ reasons to continue to deprive women from their basic right to have an identity card, which is a tool through which they can independently access relief goods and services. 5. The Sim card scheme is not accessible to women either. They aren’t allowed to enter the sports complex (where this service offered), nor can they avail this option. Once again, the cultural barriers limiting women from having a ‘phone’ has denied them the cash transfer of Rs7000 from KPK, Rs8000 from Punjab and Rs30,000 Ramadan package from the federal government. I am not sure how the majority of the IDPs, who may not have CNICs, B-forms for minors, or do not have the physical capacity to stand in line for days, are accessing relief? 6. If you are a minor or a young adult, there is no way of accessing the social welfare services on offer inside the sports complex to register your grievance. I spoke to the officer inside the complex and asked him how he expected children to get to him? He was visibly embarrassed and agreed, but said someone from outside lets him know there are children who need assistance and he brings them in. He shared some data; thus far, since July, 2014, 1400 children had been ‘registered’ as missing from parents, orphans, traumatised, dropout from schools’. The services they offer are restricted to counselling as they have one psychiatrist. There is also assistance for reunion with parents through the help of the army. I asked if providing them with a B-form from NADRA was on the menu of services. The answer was non-committal. 7. Since women cannot enter the sports complex, their only access to any services are at the other smaller distribution points which excludes the charity relief packages, including the Zong Sim card cash transfers: Rs7000+8000+30,000=Rs45,000, thus far. Outside of the Sports Complex There are 600 schools in Bannu that have become shelters for the internally displaced families. These are also the centres in which non-governmental organisations are allowed to operate in Bannu to provide direct services, carry out surveys of needs and provide some relief to women and children who are barred from public spaces and the sports complex distribution point. For example, SRSP has a mobile truck service, which visits several ‘school/shelters/hosting areas’ daily, dropping off NFIs and providing information otherwise unavailable. Thus far, out of the 600 schools 250 have been visited. The problem is, if the IDP has no green registration card they are unable to receive relief goods. Thus one hopes the SRSP develops a list of these individuals/families, so that NADRA can visit them in these specific sites to rectify this gap. Another relief organisation, Khwendo Kor, also has made the rounds of these ‘school/shelters/host families’ to gather information and develop lists for the relevant authorities to bring them into the net of the official data. The cultural challenges have hindered efforts to access them and develop self-help coping strategies and mechanisms. This will be a huge challenge to overcome in the coming months when ‘friendly spaces’ are being designed to assist women to help themselves. One more huge challenge, as a result of the ‘cultural norms’, has been in the health sector. Because of the intensity of purdah, women are unwilling to go to or allow medical professionals to assist them. On the other hand, there are next to no health facilities in Bannu which are functional. The basic health units, district health units and the public hospitals are primarily without health care professionals and have little or no medicines. There are several case studies where Panadol was the only medicine offered for a variety of ailments. The barriers, as a result of the cultural norms, will have to deal with any design intervention with women and children. This will be a huge challenge. Women have no or little concept of self-help, self-esteem or idea that they are able to seek or develop skills to cope in this current crisis. The psycho-social assistance will need to be designed at a very basic level to introduce the idea of self-help. I had the opportunity to observe the following; these schools are in pretty bad shape, are hosting multiple related families, and the water and sanitation situation is dire. The challenges of not being familiar with the importance of hygiene, knowledge of use of sanitation facilities and non-functional facilities available are huge. At the end of August these schools are required to be available for the children of Bannu. It is quite clear these facilities will need to be revamped, in a serious effort to restore them to some functional standard. The educational assistance for the IDP children will need to be aware of the following factors: the IDP population is primarily illiterate; it doesn’t matter if they are children or adults, men or women. The literacy levels are in single digits. Thus, any emergency educational intervention has to keep this in mind and have multi age/gender sensitive literacy programs. In fact, many told me (including Waziri children) schools in NWA have been closed for the past 12-18 months anyway. I do not see Waziri families allowing their girls to go too far for educational services either. Hence, the new abode in which they will be transferred, too, will need to be close to ‘schooling’ facilities if girls are expected to attend. Alternative models of home schooling can be developed if the local teachers or NGOs are allowed to operate in Bannu. Access to Bannu Very few organisations are allowed to operate inside Bannu; without an NOC from FDMA PDMA (cleared by the armed forces), no organisation is allowed to operate. Foreign organisations are banned from operating in Bannu, this includes most UN agencies except WFP and UNHCR who also operate through partner organisations and operate from Kohat or Peshawar. SRSP, Khwendo Kor and Sabayon are one of the few local organisations who have offices and are present in Bannu. Camp management/lack of IDPs in camp The message that the IDP have chosen not to live in camps because of cultural reasons is a myth apparently. The reason IDPs have not shifted to camps is because the state of the camp management and facilities are abominable. The camps have very low quality shelter, water and sanitation facilities which are disconnected from shelter facilities and infested with dangerous creepy crawlies with no shade for miles. Furthermore, the armed forces refuse to allow professionals to set up or manage campsites. Also, camps have been set up in inaccessible areas where movement inside and outside is highly restricted. These restrictions will have to be lifted (alongside management of camps and developing better facilities) before schools open and the current residents are transferred to alternative shelter arrangements. I would highly recommend cash-for-work options, developed for multiple services including developing camps for IDPs moving out of the 600 schools, to keep Bannu clean and for community watch or security arrangements. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="441"] Photo: Nilofer Qazi[/caption] There are too many young Waziri men doing absolutely nothing. This is undesirable for many reasons. They lack basic life skills and this crisis will further exacerbate the situation. In the bazaar There was normal activity in the bazaar, indicating the local economy hadn’t been disrupted. There were no relief items being sold, which was a good sign that goods weren’t been overly distributed. Although, I later heard from Bannu cousins, that in the outer smaller bazaars some relief items have begun to be seen in the shops. I did not see this myself. Media or on ground verification is necessary for this. Nevertheless, food items are not in shortage. In fact, there are a lot of food items, which have been stored by the government. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="441"] Photo: Nilofer Qazi[/caption] There is a curfew in Bannu most of the day, hence, shopping is done at specific timings and those allowed to leave their homes are all busy buying before they are back under lock and key. The food stalls were full; fruit vegetables were available in plenty. There were many chemists’ shops; thus basic medicines are available if you have the money and some knowledge of what to take. Khwendo Kor meeting [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="441"] Photo: Nilofer Qazi[/caption] [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="441"] Photo: Nilofer Qazi[/caption] They are doing excellent work and probably the only organisation present in all 49 union councils of the Bannu district. They have networks of women and men, therefore, are an excellent platform for training and accessing locals and IDPs. They have been operating in Bannu since 2003. Recommendations: 1. Lift restrictions on women accessing direct relief goods and cash transfer SIM facilities. 2. Increase the distribution points. The current number is too few to cater for such a large number of families. 3. NADRA has to increase mobile facilities and activities to seek women and children, to provide them with CNIC/B Cards. This will have to be accompanied with innovative public information campaigns, keeping in mind information barriers in Bannu. 4. Cash-for-work programs need to begin immediately. There are too many young male adults, out of school and work, just doing nothing. With the restrictions on NGOs/INGOs from operating in Bannu, there is no reason why this potential workforce cannot be mobilised to both help and self-help. 5. Partner with Khwendo Kor, who is present in all 49 union councils in the district of Bannu through their women organisations and men organisation networks. They have developed trust with the local families and have the ability to access places others cannot. 6. Multi-sector programs need to be developed which targets the regressive, restrictive and destructive cultural norms preventing women from helping themselves. Life skills, both income/non-income generating, and hygiene have to be introduced. Many of the barriers are cultural, hence, (whether education, hygiene, skills, access to information) all of these facilities will have to be designed keeping in mind and designing programs to ‘bring out’ the women. These programs will naturally have to first target the men or elders and the decision makers/army, to convince them that these programs, designed to encourage women to participate, are necessary for the wellbeing of the family, community and purpose of Zarb-e-Azb! 7. Programs, which will target families with local host families in Bannu, will have to include those host families. Whether it is about food stipends or any other direct services, this step needs to be taken to avoid friction and discrepancies between IDP-host families. 8. Emergency education programs will need to be cognisant of almost 100% illiteracy, amongst all age groups and both genders. Children haven’t attended school in either, at least, 18 months or ever. 9. Currently the size of the family is considered to include husband, wife and approximately six children. However, the reality of NWA average family is 13-15 members, with multiple wives. This discrepancy excludes registration of more than one wife and the size of the ‘family packages’; both in terms of cash transfers and food/non-food items. 10. Consider relaxing the NOC for relief organisations, especially those who can manage ‘camps’ and work with women and children. These steps will help bring a certain standard of living for these people - God knows they deserve it.

“I’m going for a sleepover at Salman’s house.”

“Sleepover, ammi.”

“Jee, everyone is getting together right now, please, midterms just ended today.”

“Nothing, I want nothing. What are you doing here at this time?”

“Can I sit down?”

“No, I know what you are thinking, I am not drunk. I just want to sit here and talk.”

“I know. Talk about anything. I have nowhere to go tonight.”

“What is it that makes you continue living?” he asked her, and the bluntness of the question failed to appear in front of him.

“Because people despise you, children taunt you, women are repelled by you, and some men try to touch you to satisfy their unfulfilled desires.”

“I can predict it from how society treats you.”

“Falsafe, sacchai?”

“Just like that?”

“Are you?”

“That’s tragic.”

“Well, your ID cards are now being made.”

“So, are all of you born this way?”

“Nah, the world is alright, only the people are incredibly strange.”

“I have always been told the opposite.”

“I am going to go; maybe someday we could meet again here, at the same time.”

“I have you for that. Why do you bother with these desperate people anyway?”

“What do you mean?” Maida asked, surprised to see Sughra in a philosophical mood.

“What’s the matter? You’re talking sense today.”

With another showdown between the government and Imran Khan on the horizon, it is important to revisit the root of the current strife; rigging in the general elections of 2013. While much has been said about this subject, we still appear to have people who are not correctly informed as to what happened, or is alleged to have happened, and what are the evidences to support such allegations. The crux of the arguments from the disinterested, misinformed commentators boils down to what I came across in an op-ed around two months ago. Basically that the agitators have neither,

“ 1) A theory of how the (election) process could have been hijacked; and (2) evidence that the process was indeed hijacked in the manner suggested”.

Pakistan’s recent policy of repatriating illegal Afghan refugees from its soil, as a reaction to the Army Public School (APS) attack in Peshawar, is being appreciated in many circles around the country. Many believe that this step would lead to a decrease in the wave of militancy that is currently gripping Pakistan. These circles believe that Afghan refugees have injected the so-called “Kalashnikov culture” in Pakistani society; that they have introduced heroin and other drugs in Pakistan, which has destroyed millions of young lives. To these people, the root cause of every crime in Pakistan is these refugees. To them, these refugees are directly or indirectly involved in terrorism, and their repatriation to Afghanistan would mean peace for Pakistan. They believe that the same would hold true for the tribal people of FATA and they seem to have exempted everyone else from these crimes. But these circles could not be more wrong. While I do agree, to some extent, that such views might have been built upon legitimate grounds, blaming an entire group of people for the actions of a few is downright unjustified. Pakistanis, of all people, should understand that. People need to realise that Afghan refugees are not the sole reason why terrorism is rampant in Pakistan – there are numerous other factors which have led to this state. Every society has good and bad people, but we cannot simply expel one ethnic group just because everyone else is treating them as the scapegoat. The Afghans, who have lived in Pakistan since 1979, have contributed to a lot of positive things. There are many Afghan businessmen who are running successful enterprises, thus helping the country’s economy. These businessmen pay their taxes to the exchequer and have also employed thousands of people, thus providing economic relief to the masses. Many Afghans have been born in Pakistan, who have received good education and are now serving Pakistan on different forums. While talking to these Afghans, I came across many riveting stories. But the one thing that I found common in them was their love for Pakistan. They find this land dearer than Afghanistan – because it is in Pakistan that they have grown, received an education, developed businesses, gotten married, established their families and homes, and have created a social group for themselves. Why would they want to return to a land where they have no business, no home, and no relatives whatsoever? Most of these Afghans have married Pakistani citizens – if they are expelled now, their spouses might not agree to go to Afghanistan with them. Who will be responsible for their financial and domestic woes then? Asking such people to simply leave everything – their property, their businesses and their families – and move back to their land is unfair and unacceptable. The Pakistani people cannot just ignore all the good that these refugees have done for the country. Alongside this, such a decision might become detrimental for the provincial government as well. If they are forcing the refugees to go back to “their” land, they might bring up the issue of the disputed Durand Line, according to which the area of Peshawar till Attock Bridge is considered as Afghan land. The refugees might push for this debate to happen in the international arena and this may open Pandora’s Box for the federal government, which it certainly cannot afford right now. Since most of the militants have fled to Afghanistan after Operation Zarb-e-Azb came about, one can insinuate that these repatriated refugees might take shelter with these militant groups and their anti-Pakistani sentiment might be exploited against Pakistan. This policy can backfire for the government on multiple levels. Keeping these points in mind, we can understand that forced repatriation is not a viable idea for Pakistan. We need to act smartly with regards to the issues at hand. First of all, we need to stop the police from harassing these refugees and badgering businessmen to leave their businesses or pay them a hefty sum. Secondly, we need to scrutinise and separate those Afghans who are involved in terrorist activities in Pakistan from those who are honest, hard-working, innocent individuals. Secondly, the repatriation process needs to be made in affiliation with the United Nations. Those who are willing to go back to Afghanistan should be shifted to refugee camps and properly registered under the UN. Their Pakistani CNICs, which they have procured illegally from NADRA officials, should be cancelled. Those who are married to Pakistani citizens may be given Pakistani nationalities – like it’s done in the United States. Also, those who have businesses in Pakistan should be exempted from process.Those businessmen who do not pay their taxes should be dealt with according to the law, just like any other business owner. Lastly, the government should call for aid and funds for education and health from the international community, for those Afghans who are not willing to go back but are becoming a financial burden for the provincial government. If this issue is not dealt with sensitivity to the existing refugees, it might lead to further deteriorating ties between Pakistan and Afghanistan – and this may be used by other forces to pit the latter against the former.

Having worked in newsrooms for nearly three years, I find it increasingly difficult to ignore a certain self-congratulatory attitude among Pakistani journalists. Every now and then, a chief justice takes notice of a rape story and our inboxes are flooded with emails of colleagues congratulating the hard working reporter who broke the story. Once, we even did a feature on how our story helped a rape victim get justice. It was so smug, it set off a round of emails critiquing such editorial decisions and such a feature thankfully never appeared again. Don’t get me wrong, it’s crucial that good journalism be recognised, for it connects us to a broader issue. Each news story on rape points to a pervasive culture and the comments underneath offer us a glimpse into societal attitudes about gender and sexuality. If by merely reporting it, someone helps a victim get justice, he/she should be appreciated. But then there are stories like that of Sharbat Bibi’s, McCurry’s Afghan girl. Bibi became a recognised face world-over when National Geographic photographer Steve McCurry captured her portrait at the Nasir Bagh Refugee Camp in 1984. When he found her again 17-years-later, he offered us a look into the life she had lived in Afghanistan and Pakistan during a tumultuous phase in both nations’ history. She is not a rape victim. But when she hit the headlines recently – with TV and newspaper reporters all clamouring to claim credit for breaking the news that she was living on a CNIC issued to her “in violation of rules” – very few remembered that she is a victim of war. By gleefully pointing at her “illegal” status in Pakistan and bunching her name with statistics of thousands of people who use the same illegal method to obtain CNICs, Pakistani journalists turned her ID card photo into a portrait of our anti-immigrant attitude. Indeed, she is no different from the millions who were uprooted from their homes back in 1980s. Their experiences form a narrative that should have, by now, been embedded into the discourse of the war – a war shared by people of both Afghanistan and Pakistan. In National Geographic’s Afghan Girl: A Life Revealed, it was told,

“[Her husband] lives in Peshawar… and works in a bakery. Her asthma, which cannot tolerate the heat and pollution of Peshawar in summer, limits her time in the city and with her husband to the winter. The rest of the year she lives in the mountains.”

“Repatriation should be voluntary — keeping in mind that without peace in war-torn Afghanistan, the refugees may not want to return.”

“People have been known to take money offered by the UN, leave for Afghanistan and soon find their way back to Pakistan. Additionally, there has been no coherent refugee policy at the national level, which is hampering efforts to effectively address the problem.”

Aashi, a transgender who is Faiq by day and Aashi at night, says,

“Living a discrete life is not everyone’s cup of tea.”

“I was raised in a conservative family of five in Nazimabad. My father was a government employee and was ashamed of my existence. Since childhood, I had this natural inclination towards floral prints, dolls, jewellery and the likes, and used to imitate famous female celebrities. My family, which included my parents, a younger sister and brother, had initially ignored this tendency in me and considered it as part of growing up. However, it was after the age of 16 that they realised that something was wrong which was now obvious through my accent, the way I walked, my gestures and some unusual biological changes that had started to occur. This created panic in the family and the very next day, I was standing in front of a doctor who after examining me thoroughly, took my parents to a private room nearby and whatever discussion took place was never revealed to me. All that I remember was that my mother came out with tears in her eyes and my father with a frown on his face, who grabbed my hand and without saying a single word, drove us back home. Everyone in the family was told to keep quiet about it, and I was told to wear baggy clothes and avoid any kind of socialising at school. I was lucky I was allowed to continue my studies, which I did and managed to graduate in psychology from a college in Karachi and later on a certification in hotel management. By that time, I had grown up into an adult with some obvious biological changes and that’s when my life took a U-turn.”

“I was asked to leave my home. The same home where I was born in, grew up, played with my siblings, spent some of the best years of my life, and here I was being asked to leave this abode just because I was becoming an embarrassment to the family. I did not even try to reason with my parents because this was a reality that I had to live with and this was just another phase of my life where I had to be strong and ready to take the challenge head on. With a heavy heart, I left my home and my family and rented a small apartment in a commercial area of Defence. For the initial six months, my father supported me financially and occasionally visited me to make sure that I was doing okay. Each time he visited me, I greeted him with a smile on my face and never displayed any kind of anger or pain that was literally eating me up from inside. After retirement, his income trimmed down to a pension and that was when I stepped out in search for a job. After a month long search, I ended up securing a position at the commissioner’s office in the administration department. Initially, there was plenty of resistance by the staff but then I made an effort to win them over with my no-nonsense attitude and commitment towards my work. There are plenty of transgenders who are working at homes as domestic help, working for the government availing the two per cent job quota and providing services in the fashion industry.”

“I met this man named Wajid Sheikh who visited as a customer but slipped his business card to me and asked me to call him for he had an excellent proposition for me. Willingly or unwillingly, I did place that call and took his offer. I was to first get in touch with a similar group of transgenders through Mr Wajid and get briefed up on some part time work that they were all involved in. I met Ms Komal, the manager of the discrete community that Mr Wajid was running, and was introduced to a totally new world where I was to use my ‘special features’ and my sexual orientation to satisfy a certain segment of the society which was running into hundreds if not thousands. I was to go with a pseudonym ‘Aashi’ and establish a network of clients through social media and word of mouth. I became a dancer who used to entertain men at different gatherings and parties. This was initially hard on me for I had belonged to a conservative family background but the pay was really handsome and I gave in. There was no looking back and I quickly reached great heights in this entertainment segment. I now am Faiq by day and Aashi by night. My father and brother have completely broken all ties with me for which I can’t blame them. However, it’s my mother who often calls me to inquire about my health and to see if I’m doing fine. I chose this path myself and will face the consequences accordingly. I still miss my home though and I know for a fact that from what I have become, they will never accept me back so why fret about it. Financially, I’m independent and will even be willing to help them out if they ever need my help.”

“Had the government and the civil society worked towards incorporating us into this society with equal opportunities for people from our community, I wouldn’t have been selling myself to make both ends meet and live a discrete life. I have to think a thousand times before visiting a doctor during illness and in public places, mothers distance their young ones from us, isolating us further and making a mockery out of our orientation. I have no other way but to use my skills to survive in this jungle of intolerance and narrow mindedness.”

Last week, Islamabad High Court judge, Justice Shaukat Aziz Siddiqui ordered the removal of illegal settlements in I-11 area of Islamabad. The judgment summarised that the Capital Development Authority (CDA) had allotted plots in the I-11 Sector, and therefore the settlements established there were violating the rights of the land owners and resultantly had to be removed. Strangely enough, however, the voters list of 1985 had the names of the inhabitants of the Afghan Basti (settlement) as eligible voters while the plots were allotted a year later in 1986. How could Afghans be registered voters? Well, it seems that the name is a misnomer because the population in the basti is mainly Pakhtun which had settled there from parts of Khyber-Pakhtunkwa (K-P), FATA and FANA. The people in the basti have valid Nadra issued Computerised National Identity Cards (CNICs), many have spent their entire lives in the basti, working as labourers in the nearby Sabzi Mandi (fruit and vegetable wholesale market). [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="600"] Children from the I-11 Katchi Abadi sitting on top of their roofs prior to the operation. Photo: Muhammad Nawfal Saleemi[/caption] The CDA started to mobilise and coordinate with other departments including the police, Rangers and the fire department so that a successful operation could be launched and the area be cleared. The usual rhetoric was used to justify the operation by claiming that the basti was the hub of illegal activities such as drug trafficking and smuggling, as well as being a hideout for criminals and terrorists. However, no evidence was presented to prove any of this, but then again, who needs proof when fear mongering will do the trick to sway the public opinion. A large contingent of the police force in riot gear along with CDA staff shadowed by excavators and bulldozers gathered opposite the basti in the driving ground next to Metro Super Market on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday. The locals, along with workers of the Awami Workers Party (AWP) had a standoff with the administration on all of these three days. Finally, on late Wednesday, the media started to report that a major operation would be launched on Thursday and the administration started to close the roads leading to the settlement. The CDA staff, numbering in hundreds, was backed by a heavy contingent of Islamabad Police, Anti-Riot Units as well as Rangers. A couple of influential locals, Sartor Khan and Mufti Abdullah, after apparent negotiations with the CDA decided to voluntarily take down their own houses after which the CDA would leave the area. After the negotiations, Khan left the scene. Interestingly enough, no representative from the AWP was invited to these negotiations, even though the party has a significant support base in the basti. The demand of the locals was simply alternative housing and resettlement, yet the CDA did not entertain nor offer any such settlement. As the operation began, two houses were demolished; the police started to order the people who had gathered there to disperse simultaneously issuing warnings of arrest. The giant bulldozers started to move forward and several more houses were demolished, while the locals helplessly witnessed the devastation of their shelters right in front of their eyes. However, a few resisted with the only thing they had, rubble and stones. Soon, clashes erupted and the police responded with sheer brute force. It was a barbaric sight: Women and children were dragged out on to the street, while their homes were being demolished, tear gas was being excessively used, and homes were directly shelled. The cries of hapless women and children choking from the tear gas echoed through the entire basti. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="600"] A view of the I-11 Katchi Abadi during the Police Shelling. Wooden fruit crates were set on fire by the locals to counter the effects of the excessive tear gas shelling. Photo: Muhammad Nawfal Saleemi[/caption] After a few hours of clashes, the locals all but retreated, and by sunset, the CDA had demolished more than a hundred homes, leaving people scrambling for their belongings amidst the rubble. Many could no longer locate where their homes once stood. The tears and the sheer hopelessness on their faces was a reflection of the state’s failures to care for its people and the collective disregard for humanity that plagues this country. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="600"] A man searches for his belongings amidst the rubble following CDA’s operation in I-11 Katchi Abadi. Photo: Muhammad Nawfal Saleemi[/caption] The basti was a shelter of the most basic kind; the houses were made of mud, straw, wood and left-over materials that the locals had been able to procure. The homes were constructed by the residents themselves. There was no running water, natural gas, hardly any electricity, no health care facility and a sheer absence of any real education infrastructure. Open sewers and open defecation along with unclean water meant that it was a hotbed of disease and illness. It could hardly be deemed liveable but it was all that they had – it was their shelter. It was the only protection the impoverished had, the protection they had built with their bare hands, when the state had abandoned them. Will the administrators and the elites think about these homeless souls when they are comfortable and secure with their own children in luxury gated communities? I think not. Why should they since we can simply categorise them as illegal occupants, land mafia and terrorists and this does justify the rulers sleeping comfortably with the air conditioners at 16 degrees.

Imran Khan had sought investigation in four constituencies to ascertain whether the General Elections 2013 (GE 2013)were rigged or manipulated. Election tribunals have ruled in favour of Pakistan Tehreek-e-Inshaf (PTI) in three out of four ‘sample’ constituencies handpicked by the PTI chairman. Imran also demanded for the formation of a Judicial Commission (JC) to probe rigging in the GE 2013 on an overall basis. A JC was formed and no rigging or manipulation was proven. In its report, the JC rejected all allegations of planned rigging but pointed out grave irregularities by the Election commission of Pakistan (ECP). Of the three election tribunals that ruled in favour of PTI candidates, one has held the winning candidate guilty of illegal practice, NA 154, where the degree of the independent winning candidate has been found fake. The other two tribunals have declared elections in these constituencies void as a whole on the basis of large scale irregularities on part of the ECP and NADRA. It is pertinent to note that a total of 411 election petitions were filed in different constituencies all over Pakistan. Of these, around 24 remain pending, while all others have been adjudicated upon by the election tribunals. Of these, only 49 petitions were accepted.  A total of 138 election petitions were filed against Pakistan Muslim League-Nawaz (PML-N), of which 20 stand accepted. Against PTI, 30 petitions were filed, and four stand accepted. In addition to election tribunals that adjudicated upon reservations regarding elections in individual constituencies, the JC inquired into the GE 2013 on an overall basis. The trend visible in 49 tribunal decisions where petitions were accepted, coupled with final report of the JC leads to two conclusions. 1. PML-N or any other person’s involvement in a conspiracy to rig and manipulate the GE 2013 has not been proven. This assertion has failed to acquire the status of a fact and remains a speculation or an allegation, although the number of believers in this speculation has not changed despite JC’s report. 2. The ECP largely failed in fulfilling its constitutional obligation under Article 218(3). There were irregularities and shortcomings owing to the ECP, returning officers and other election staff. In many cases, the ECP staff failed in their pre and post poll duties which has put a huge question mark on the GE 2013 and mandate acquired thereof. Post JC report, PTI was pushed to a defensive position. Tribunal verdicts in NA-122 and NA-154 have been used well, with some help from the media, to once again put PTI on the front foot. Now it is PML-N’s turn to respond. Opting for by-elections instead of applying delaying tactics by going to the Supreme Court seems to be a wise decision on PML-N’s part. All three constituencies are from Punjab where PML-N rules. PML-N has fared well in the Cantonment Board Elections recently and there are indicators that PML-N is still ahead of PTI when it comes to popularity among the masses.  JC disproving PTI’s allegations and PTI’s internal turmoil have brought PTI’s popularity down a notch. PML-N knows that PTI is capable of regaining lost ground and thus the sooner by-elections are held the better. PTI, on the other hand, seems unsure of its fate in by-elections. The party faces internal rifts, which have dimmed out owing to two consecutive victories in tribunal decisions. However, by-elections, nomination of party candidates, and election campaigns may re-ignite the dying flames of internal turmoil. But the fact that PML-N rules Punjab can and may work to PTI’s disadvantage. If by-elections are held, it is absolutely crucial for PTI to bag all three seats or at least two of three. A loss in two or more seats from the constituencies that Imran alleged were snatched from him through rigging, coupled with a loss in the local government elections may end the hopes of a victory in 2018 General Elections for good. So while going for by-elections is a wise move by PML-N, PTI’s wise move can be to not go for by-elections. PTI does not have the option of going to the Supreme Court like PML-N, so what options do they have? They will probably boycott the by-elections and perhaps the local government elections too. PTI claims to have lost all confidence in the ECP. Imran has demanded resignations of the four ECP members from four provinces in light of JC’s final report and dissatisfaction over ECP’s performance therein. Pakistan People’s Party (PPP) is also towing PTI’s line; this may be owing to completely different reasons that have more to do with the Karachi operation than reservations regarding GE 2013. Nevertheless, PPP along with PTI makes for sufficient pressure on the PML-N government. PTI along with other political parties may take a justified stand for the reformation of the ECP and implementation of electoral reforms before any by or local government elections. For the first time in decades, Pakistan’s electoral shortcomings and irregularities have been brought out in the open; it would be criminal to hold another electoral exercise without having addressed them first. One cannot predict with certainty the winner of fair by-elections in NA-122, NA-125 and NA-154, but PTI needs to be certain of its victory before jumping in. It would be interesting to see whether Imran jumps in with his trademark overconfidence, or does he opt for keeping his chances alive for the next General Elections.

The arts being an unconventional career choice in a society that still views the holy trinity of business, medicine and engineering as the only acceptable professions, artists are more attuned to the plight of those struggling against stereotypical expectations. Perhaps that is why the recent initiative taken by the National College of Arts (NCA), Rawalpindi, to employ members of the transgender community at the college, has been received with such warmth by students and faculty alike. People are recognised in society by their professions. Pursuing the career of your choice can be a priority over a vocation with better financial remuneration. Veena, a young transgender, who now works as an administrative assistant at the fine arts department at NCA, used to be a professional dancer. However, she has chosen a modestly paying desk job over a highly lucrative dancing career. She made a choice to live life on her own terms, and has no regrets. Director of NCA’s Rawalpindi campus, Nadeem Omar Tarar, explains how the idea of employing Veena came about. He says,

“In a discussion with Usman Mughal, who was conducting his thesis on employment problems of the transgender community, and his supervisor Dr Abu Bakar, we agreed that the gender role of transgenders as sex objects can be redefined by giving them opportunities of performing regular jobs. I asked Usman if we could find an educated transgender person to hire.”

“Most occupations have nothing to do with gender. Encouraging the transgender community by giving them opportunities of choosing from diverse career options will eventually empower them, which in turn will make them an acceptable part of our society.”

“I made myself comfortable by accepting that the reason of my discomfort wasn’t them, but the way I saw them,” says Abeera, a third year student at the National College of Arts, Rawalpindi.

Dear Nergis Darling, We are very happy to know that you have become super famous and that you were born in Karachi. In order to create a ‘usable’ past, we somehow distinctly recall that while you were growing up in Karachi, we were certain that teaching you sciences, and physics in particular, along with the rigors of the scientific method which is what we do best in the schools of Pakistan, especially, girls’ schools. Therefore, we would like to take full credit for your achievements, especially those that have made you famous. The rest we neither know nor care about. We are practically salivating here over the possibilities of marketing. Since we do not really understand what you have done and what the discovery of gravitational waves really mean for Astrophysics and humanity in general, we have setup a high level Judicial Commission to really tell us the truth. We expect this commission to provide the government a report within your lifetime, hopefully. Had you invented a vote-faking machine, the commission could have provided you a report within 24-hours. We value speedy administration of justice over here with quantum level accuracy. In fact, if you had solved our energy problems using water (like the Pakistani invention of the water-powered car); the Pakistani media and majority of the Pakistani government would have gone ballistic and would have been doing hundreds of interviews during talk shows talking about how great the invention is. Alternatively, in Pakistan, the prestigious Ruet-e-Hilal Committee are the experts in Astrophysics in their ability to observe, measure and predict astronomical events and the position of celestial bodies, therefore, getting a scientific explanation from them regarding your discovery would be the fastest and easiest for the government in order to make astronomical decisions affecting 200 million people. Regardless, before you get a Nobel Prize in Physics, we would like to make you an offer which you cannot refuse. We are prepared, after the competent authority’s approval, to offer you the post of girls’ volleyball coach in a government school. Darling, if Dr Abdus Salam (who is also a minority and who also won the Nobel Prize in Physics) had accepted a position as the boys’ football coach in a government college in Lahore we would have been able to accept him. Hence, you should just accept the position of team coach of the girls’ volleyball team. If you agree to serve your country of birth, let us know and we will start the requisite lobbying to get you appointed to such a coveted position. Have you applied for your Pakistan Origin Card (POC) from NADRA? If not, please do so as soon as possible to be considered a certified expatriate Pakistani and also be prepared for a six month waiting period while you go through the security clearance. The intelligence agency responsible might call you for directions after six months saying that they couldn’t find your address during their first attempt for POC verification. Once you get your POC, you can send us money via the official banking channel, which I am sure Darr uncle would be very pleased about. After all, so many Pakistani expatriates contribute in paying the bills which run the government over here. In fact, the expatriate remittances is very comparable to Pakistan’s total exports, but getting you voting rights would create legal and logistical problems, which we cannot solve at this time. Please keep sending us money though, if you still have any family left back in Pakistan. If not, we’ll give you plenty of other emotional reasons to send us money. But remember, before you get appointed to any government’s position, especially, in an academic institution, your degrees will go through a thorough and detailed verification process by the HEC. They will ask for your original high school records, even if they have to verify your bachelor’s or master’s or doctorate degrees. If you don’t have the required subjects (Pakistan Studies, Islamiat and Urdu), your high school record would be considered incomplete and therefore, all your subsequent degrees would become unverifiable and therefore, unrecognised in Pakistan. But don’t worry, we can use your fame, and hence, your ability to raise funds for your country of birth, in other ways. We invite you to visit us at our corporate headquarters - Lahore to discuss this further. You would be escorted by the Dolphin Force, if the competent authority approves, otherwise, you will have to take the Turkish cab. As a tourist attraction, we will show you our metro bus. However, I am afraid; meeting the appropriate personnel in the ministry requires careful planning, since they are intensely occupied with other important engagements. We don’t want you to suffer the same fate as your senior - Ashar Aziz - MIT graduate, billionaire, cyber security guru did, who despite having a scheduled meeting, could not meet the competent authority in the ministry in Islamabad. But I am sure you’d be in complete awe of our metro bus, such awe that you will never forget us and eventually decide to move back to Pakistan. Darling, don’t get overly excited yet with the options above, we have another one for you. We could ask an Ivy Leaguer, DHA resident person, to partner up with you and setup an NGO. This NGO can raise funds from foreign countries to educate our children and girls especially. Perhaps, a film-maker with a similar background can make a superb documentary about you or with you in it so that the NGO could generate more foreign funds. We think this would be your greatest use by the country of your birth. Just send us dollars! So don’t worry, sweetheart. We would be happy to welcome you back – after all, home is always home, right? With all my love, Your Step Mother (PAKISTAN) [poll id="438"]

Dear Express Tribune (ET), (or should I say Sexpress tribune?) Here I was, browsing the internet while feeling very offended that the government had passed a ‘Women Protection Bill’, when I came across your latest liberal agenda spewing blog, titled, ‘Why can’t Pakistani men stop staring at women?’ This article made me so angry. The last time I felt so upset was when I spent seven and a half hours on Sunday pouring over every image and video on Qandeel Baloch’s Facebook page. That day I was so livid, I left comment after comment on her posts, asking her to cover up and not behave so lewdly for the sake of Pakistan’s izzat. In fact, some of the vulgar videos offended me so much that I watched them six or seven times continuously. I only stopped when my mother knocked on my door, and told me to go buy more tissues as we had run out. But this blog was even more offensive. First of all, why did this young woman leave Pakistan to go to Turkey? How dare her family let her leave home in the first place? Why, just the other day I complained to my girlfriend as we walked in the park while I subtly pressured her for sexual intimacy, that my sister had gotten so bold; she wants to go to the mall alone. In response, my girlfriend simply yelled,

“Who are you? Why are you stalking me? Leave me alone or I will call the police.”

We’re all accustomed to that dreadful trip to NADRA that we’ve delayed for far too long. Why dreadful? Here’s a list to jog your memory. Stage 1: Mild panic You’re told that the B-Form you have used for the past 10 years is no longer valid; now you need the digital one. Or your ‘digital’ ID card is no longer digital, or your child is 18. That’s right, now you need to visit your nearest NADRA office. Stage 2: Determination You call the helpline and a polite customer services representative answers all of your questions in great detail. You begin to hope. You have all the required documents. You can do this! Stage 3: Trepidation Of course, ‘nearest’ is a relative term. It could mean anything from the same street to the next town. You locate the temple of bureaucratic doom and quail at how long the lines are. A notice says that today is only for female applicants, you are a little relieved, but then you realise that ‘female’ is also a relative term. It probably means people who can’t or don’t read notices. Stage 4: Resignation You walk in and are confronted by a man next to a token machine. You try to explain why you’re here (a digital death certificate carved on a piece of granite perhaps?) but he ignores you and presses a random button, gives you a token and pretends to be deaf. Stage 5: Slight irritation While you wait for your number to be called, you are treated to a display of littering, loud belching, extreme and unwarranted interest in your affairs from complete strangers; you name it. You might as well start making friends. Chances are you’re going to be here a long time. Stage 6: Extreme irritation then some smugness Your number is close, you get in line and someone decides that they need to cut in front of you. You ask them to please come when their number is called but they smile at you like they are above such things and insist that they’re in a hurry. Before you can ask them which member of the Obama family they have waiting outside, the man behind the counter, takes one look at their token (or lack thereof) and tells them to get lost. You smile. Stage 7: Mild confusion When you get to the counter, the zombie behind it asks for all the documents and photocopies that you know you needed. Then he asks you for documents that you didn’t know you needed. Thankfully, you had decided to play it safe and bring along every single scrap of your official and unofficial identity. He sighs (you’ve cheated him out of torture), charges an exorbitant amount of money because you’re in a hurry, gives you a receipt and waves you into the office’s inner sanctum. Stage 8: Complete bewilderment The next few hours are spent being shuttled between different tables; first a picture is taken (there is nothing that can make it less horrible), then one after the other various NADRA officials first open your bio-data on their computers, read it out to you for confirmation then open entirely new screens and begin to type out the same information afresh. Stage 9: Identity crisis You’re asked to confirm your date of birth, grandmother’s name, marital status (“You’re absolutely sure you’re married? Positive? Is that your final answer?”) favourite colour, childhood best friend’s name, etc.  You’re asked to produce all your documentation but your triumph lasts only five minutes because now they want you to produce your dead father, your sibling’s spouse, your pet cat and your neighbour’s gardener to confirm your identity. You stutter that that’s not possible. The official looks at you like they’re sorry they have to share the earth with such an ignoramus and ask you what you expect them to do now. Stage 10: Slight recovery You suggest that maybe you could bring your mother. The official sighs like he’s doing you a huge favour. You rush home to fetch her. Stage 11: Anger When you return, your mother confirms that you are, in fact, yourself. The official then informs you that they have no data on your husband so he can’t exist. You argue that he does. The official relents, and prints out a piece of paper with all the information that they just copied off their own servers that you must now, along with all photocopies, get attested. Stage 12: Homicidal rage You get to the very gates of hell where you have your information attested (you can now explicitly prove that you are you) and finally submit everything at counter number three. Stage 13: Nirvana You pray every day that nothing gets lost and that your documents are made on time. You have survived a baptism by the red-taped fire. Nothing can stop you now. Except another visit to NADRA.