Day One

On Day One the wide expanse of the rest of the year gently unwraps its three hundred and sixty-five folds. Each fold holds promise, hope and a generous sprinkling of excited anticipation. There is so much to look forward to, so much to say and do and achieve, so much to surmount and surpass and perhaps even transcend.

On Day One the crisp winter air reeks of freshness and endless possibilities. The mind reboots to the tune of best intentioned plans and well-meaning resolutions. It’s the day when everything is possible, doable, and achievable; when the road ahead promises the comfort of scheduled predictability and the trepidation of unforeseen eventualities. It is today that habitual sloth gives way to resoluteness; when passive thoughts are replaced by determined ones and when fear of the unknown dissolves into the bright chirpy confidence in tomorrow.

On Day One the sun shines brighter and the breeze blows cooler — even if it actually doesn’t. For just a brief time there is a bit more joy in laughter and a bit less gloom in despair; a bit more promise in hope and a bit less anxiety in fear. The sky is bluer even when it’s not; the birds are chirpier even if they aren’t and the grass looks greener even if it isn’t.

On Day One school means a new class is across the bend, new projects are in the pipeline and new tournaments are ready for the winning. On this day the office means a possible promotion and a raise, perhaps a new job with intriguing unknowns and fascinating targets. On this day the hunger for improvement matches the thirst for progression.

Progression is what may define the state of affairs in this country of ours as 2017 yawns and stretches itself awake from its cosmic slumber. On Day One as we peer ahead into the thick foliage of eventful weeks, it is not hard to detect the contours of stability crouching in the shadows. This year then could possibly denote the political lull before the electoral storm of 2018. From the vantage point of Day One the landscape that presents itself in living colour is dotted with steady indicators. Yes indeed the agents of delicious turbulence are still lurking around but the wares they sell will be different. They will be different because upheavals of years past are slowly transforming into a rhythmic high and low motion of fairly predictable less-than-perfect political storms. All know the big game in town will not be in town till next year. All know to win this big game requires a certain “time-out”; that an outbreak of enforced peace is mandatory to prepare for the battle that lies ahead. This is the time to ready for that battle.



On Day One the Man from Punjab gazes across the battlefield and smiles to himself. He likes what he sees. The plains are adorned with signs of his victories in skirmishes large and small. A network of alliances and affiliations stretches across this fertile land reinforced by the steel bonds of patronage. There is much political and financial capital to expend and a whole year to do so. The Man experiences deep satisfaction borne of the realisation that he is in control. On Day One he can see his mega projects all coming to glorious closures and hitting his opponents like punches in the gut. Today he has much to feel good about.

On Day One the Man from Khyber-Pukhtunkhwa (K-P) gazes across the battlefield and wishes the year had more than three hundred and sixty five days. He has much to do and not much time to do it. The final battle glowers down on him ominously and he feels the heat of the glare. He knows he has some fixing to do: fix his province, fix his party, fix his cadres, fix his grassroots structure and perhaps more important that all these, fix his priorities. Perhaps this year the Man from K-P may convince himself that demolition is part of a strategy, not the strategy itself. With the alarming danger of an outbreak of stability, the space for street turbulence will be squeezed. For him there is much to do other than rocking the landscape. In these fertile plains, the Man from K-P can only reap well if he sows well. A year is a long time, but often not long enough. Pressure always brings the best out of him but today on Day One he wears a grim look. Or is that renewed determination?

On Day One the Man from Sindh gazes across the battlefield and chuckles to himself. He’s back in the game because he realises the circus needs a Ringmaster. In the last battle he had been vanquished well and proper and yet like a phoenix he rises again from the ashes of his political humiliation. The fertile plains stretch before him like a minefield of opportunities. Why sow when you can reap other peoples’ fruits of labour? The Man knows the art of the possible. The Man practises the Science of the Impossible. He knows his victory lies not in a frontal collision but through a series of wily manoeuvers that spin a web around his opponent. On Day One the Man from Sindh scans the arena and twirls his moustache. There is work to be done and a web to be weaved.

And so as Day One dawns across this fair land, the sights and sounds of life compose a tune of hope, anticipation and aspiration to do better, go faster and fly higher. In homes big and small in towns rural and urban, Pakistanis prepare to move on along as the sun rises to shine on yet another year in the life of a nation yearning to break away from the shackles of its past and dive headlong into the glorious uncertainties of a future being sculpted day by single day.

Let’s start. Again.

Published in The Express Tribune, January 1^st, 2017.

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