Pakistan: a victim of perception or reality?

During my time in university in the UK, international batchmates often asked me if cows and snake-charmers thronged Indian streets. Well, they did (and still do) in some parts, but what alarmed me was the stereotyping of a country or culture based on hearsay and media reports.

Three years back when I returned to Mumbai after visiting Lahore and Karachi, I was inundated with the same questions as the ones I was before my first cross-border trip.

Do Pakistani men have long beards? Do they all have multiple wives? Do the women roam around in burqas? Do Pakistanis party? Do restaurants and coffee shops exist? Do bomb blasts, assassinations and abductions take place every day?

These, and more, are the typical questions that still get thrown at me. Pakistan isn’t everything that people think it is but some of the image isn’t far from the truth either. There’s never smoke without fire and the country has done little to salvage its global PR.

My answers to some of the questions invariably debunk the myths in people’s minds. They are mostly gobsmacked when I tell them that urban Pakistan isn’t far behind urban India. So there are no bars and nightclubs but that hardly deters Pakistanis from living it up inside their homes or in their cars. They create their own fun — plenty of it. Women are chicly attired, eateries abound, and much of the educated young generation in cities is in fact progressive and critical of the age-old beliefs, taboos and norms dogging them. They don’t like their country, they love it. There is immense national pride. They want a wind of change to turn it around. Yet instability and uncertainty is a constant backdrop to normal life. With the traditional elite in cities, armed guards at their houses are standard. They do not move around without a driver or bodyguard. Some of them travel in inexpensive cars to avoid getting kidnapped for a huge ransom.

People are amused when I claim that Pakistan has much to offer — food, monuments, heritage, hospitality, breathtaking scenery, but the good that the country has, is overshadowed by incompetent, inefficient and dishonest governments, which, over the years, have looted the national coffers, turned dependent on external capital flows, squashed welfare and infrastructure, and swiftly converted the country into a breeding ground for religious radicalism.

Corruption exists the world over but in Pakistan the fish rots from the head down. The disease pervades every level; from the boss to the sweeper. Decision-makers in the government are lazy fuddy duddies with no accountability. Despite the vigour of the army (seemingly, the only saviour of the country), extremist madrassas and militancy of every conceivable denomination thrive. The proposal of an anti-democratic Cyber Crime Bill, rampant sectarian killings and daylight attacks on scribes and free thinkers, have harmed the country’s international reputation. Can one really blame an outsider for viewing it through the prism of terrorism?

I find it both tragic and ironic that the land which harbours pure white sand deserts, azure blue-water rivers, and vast, rolling, untouched countryside in Neelam, Hunza, Swat, Kaghan, Murree, Shandur and Ziarat, is ranked among the most dangerous in the world. If this paradise was ever consumed by the world, there would probably be as much love and adulation for it as what exists for the Himalayas and the French Alps. It is painful to see such natural charm go unwept, unhonoured and unsung.

Not surprisingly, several Pakistani businessmen have either migrated overseas or have moved a substantial portion of their business interests to safe havens like Dubai and London. Those who haven’t, worry about their future and that of their children, but patiently await a messiah to rid the country of its woes. After all, hope and optimism is what is left to live on.

Published in The Express Tribune, April 30^th, 2015.

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