دیسی ڈونلڈ ٹرمپ

ٹی وی، میگزینوں، اخباروں، روزمرہ نشست و برخاستوں اور سوشل نیٹ ورکز پر روز ڈونلڈ ٹرمپ پرپریشان کن تبصروں اور تجزیوں کے باوجود، آپ نے مجھے ٹرمپ پر کبھی تبصرہ کرتے نہیں دیکھے ھونگے. اسکی وجہ میرا "دیسی لبرلزم" یا "پردیسی مصلحت پسندی" نہیں، بلکہ اسکی وجہ وہ ھزاروں "دیسی ٹرمپ" ھیں جسے ميں بچپن سے، ھر روز سنتا، دیکھتا چلا آرھا ھوں. آج، ایسا ھی ایک بظاھر پڑھے لکھے اور بظاھر لبرل "دیسی ٹرمپ" کو میں نے اس لیے "ان فرینڈ" کیا، کیونکہ موصوف فرما رھے تھے کہ بلوچستان کی پسماندگی کی وجہ ھزارہ کمیونٹی ھے اور جب تک اس کمیونٹی کو مٹائینگے نہیں، اس وقت تک بلوچستان ترقی نہیں کرسکتا ("ان فرینڈ" کرنے کا مقصد، نفرت کو ریڈ کارڈ کرنا ھے ).  حقیقت یہ ھے کہ چند گلیوں پر مشتمل ھزارہ آبادی والے مری آباد اور ھزارہ ٹاون میں، اگر کچھ پکے مکانات بنے ھیں وہ صوبائی يا مرکزی حکومتوں کے فنڈز سے نہیں بنے ھیں، بلکہ ان ھزاروں جوانوں کے پسینے کے کمائی سے بنے ھیں جو اپنے پیاروں سے دور، پردیسی ملکوں میں مزدوری کرنے پر مجبور ھیں.  

شاید کچھ دوست یہ سوچھے کہ میں ری ایکشن دکھا کر، نہ چاھتے ھوئے، انٹرنیٹ پر نفرت پھیلانے والوں کے لیے لاوڈ سپیکر کا کام کررھا ھوں. ان دوستوں کے خدمت میں پیشگی عرض ھے کہ یہ نفرت بہت پرانی اور گہری ھے. ان نفرتوں سے چشم پوشی کے وجہ سے یہ ایک ناسور کا شکل اختیار کر چکا ہے. مثالیں دینے کےلیے، میرے پاس ایسے سینکڑوں واقعات ھیں،  جن کا میں چشم دید گواہ ھوں. ان میں سے ایک واقعہ پیش خدمت ھے؛

1998 کے گرمیوں کی بات ھے. اسوقت کوئٹہ امن کے نخلستان تھے. لوگ اپنے اپنے چھوٹے بڑے دنیاوں میں گم تھے. والدہ صاحبہ کے طبیعت ناساز تھے اور میرے چھوٹے دنیا کے سب سے بڑی خواب یہ تھی کہ میں کسی دن اس قابل بنوں کہ والدہ صاحبہ کی بہترین علاج کرسکوں. بہر حال، جتنے ھمارے وسائل اجازت دیتے، کبھی والد صاحب اور کبھی میں ڈاکٹروں اور ھسپتالوں کے چکر کاٹتے رھتے. ایک ایسی ھی چکر میں، میں والدہ صاحبہ کو ایک سرکاری ھسپتال لے گیا. حسب معمول،  ڈاکٹر کے کمرے کے باھر مریضوں کے ایک لمبی قطار لگی ھوئی تھی. ھم بھی، ھسپتال کی پرچی اور والدہ کی لیبارٹری ٹیسٹوں اور ڈاکٹروں کے نسخوں کے پلندے ھاتھ میں لیے، قطار میں کھڑے ھوگئے. گئی گھنٹے، کھڑے کھڑے انتظار کے بعد آخر ھمارے باری آئے. ڈاکٹر صاحب اپنے چند مہمانوں کے ساتھ خوش گپیوں میں مصروف تھے. میں نے سلام کیا. ڈاکٹر نے ھمارے طرف دیکھے اور کچھ کہے بغیر پھر بھنڈار میں مصروف ھوگئے. دروازہ کے قریب ایک بوڑھا ھزارہ کھڑا تھا. میں نے ان سے خیریت دریافت کی تو بوڑھا شخص کپکپاتی آواز میں کہا کہ  اسکے نمبر بہت پہلے آیا تھا، لیکن ڈاکٹر نے یہ کہتے ھوئے اسے معائنہ کرنے سے انکار کیا کہ، "جاو، افغانستان میں اپناعلاج کرو. یہ ھسپتال بلوچستان کے ملکیت ھے." اس بوڑھے شخص نے یہ بھی بتایا کہ میں نے جب ڈاکٹر کو اپنا شناختی کارڈ دکھایا تو ڈاکٹر غصہ میں  کہا کہ میں تو اس کاغذ کے ٹکڑے کو مانتا ھی نہیں. جب میں نے ڈاکٹر سے درخواست کی کہ وہ اپنے پیشہ کا احترام کرے تو ڈاکٹر صاحب، سیاسی نعرہ بازی پر اتر آئے.

لوگ صرف مولویوں کو نفرت کے پرچارک کے طور پر دیکھتے ھیں. کاش صرف مولوی "کنوینیئس کے مسلمان" ھوتے تو ھمارے غم آدھے ھوتے۔ بدقسمتی سے ، ھمارے ھاں  "دیسی ٹرمپ" کی کوئی کمی نہیں، جو بسا اوقات اپنے " کنوینیئس کے لبرلزم" کے احسانات بھی جتاتے رھتے ھیں.

نفرتیں اتنے عادی ھوگئے ھیں کہ لوگ یہ سمجھ بیٹھے ھیں کہ اپنے قوم سے، دین سے، اور نظریات سے محبت کے اظہار کا صرف ایک ھی طریقہ ھے، اور وہ ھے دوسروں سے نفرت. حالانکہ حقیقت یہ ھے کہ اپنے لوگوں کے لیے دشمن کمانے والے، اپنے لوگوں کا خیر خواہ نہیں ھوسکتے.   

The Fattening Of A Mind

When I was at high school, my obsession with learning went too far to an extent that I got almost disconnected with most of my friends and their world of interests. It peaked when I started working at a woodwork factory after the school hours. At the factory, I mostly varnished the chairs and sofa sets. My work clothes and shoes had turned into armored shields by multiple layers of varnish coatings and I felt like an arthropod inside the clothes. In short, I went through a daily metamorphosis, beginning in the morning when I dressed into the dark-sky-blue school uniform (which turned into light-sky-blue after weekly washes by the end of the school year) to the afternoon, when I wore varnished-work-clothes and to the night, when I became myself in the casual dress. While the life appeared to be the repetition of the same acts weeks after weeks with no end at the sight, I felt like to be in the Alice’s wonderland. And that wonderland was the world of the words;

Early afternoons, when I went to work, the other workers had already left for the afternoon siesta. Occasionally, the factory owner’s youngest brother visited the factory to supervise our work. Once we went to the same school and were in different grades. He was couple of years younger than me but at the factory, I went to work and he was the boss. While, I varnished the chairs, he held a fat Oxford dictionary and walked back and forth of the hall to memorize the dictionary. I wanted to learn the language too but I had neither the time, nor money for the dictionary. So, I sorted out the used English newspapers from Russian newspapers that we used for packaging (also laid on the floor while varnishing) and hid them. I put a paper on the floor while working and looked for the words that either I could easily memorize or looked interesting to me and asked the meanings from the young boss. He liked the practice and often shared the vocabularies, he thought were interesting. My vocabulary was growing fast and parts of the English papers started making sense to me (Those were my greatest joys). I knew that kind of encyclopedic and chance-based learning equipped me with a kind of worldview, full of holes that enabled me only to have patchy views of the worlds that fell outside of my town. Still, each new word, each new piece of information, each new concept made me feel that I was growing up in those still days and nights. I believed that if I had plenty of time and a dictionary, I could have attained nirvana. 

I had a year of gap after finishing high school and that was a heavenly gift to me. I had plenty of time (I worked till noon and afternoons, I went for a mechanic course, which was for three hours and as I had no homework, so I could afford to spend time reading whatever, I could get my hands on) and well for the first time an English to Urdu dictionary (and that was the first non-textbook that I bought for fifty rupees). I went crazy with translating entire pages of newspapers (well, not the way interpreters translate but by writing Urdu meanings under each English word). I didn’t attain nirvana but it had greatly boosted my confidence level. 

When colleges’ admission opened, I and my youngest maternal-uncle went to the college for admission. The students wings of the political parties had set up reception desks to guide (attract students) and help students in their college admissions. Holding the admission forms, we went to the desk of Hazara Students Federation. Three senior students of the college represented the party. 

“What do you want to study?” A young man who had thick curly hairs and square face asked.

“Science.” I replied.

“Pre-medical or pre-engineering?”

“Pre-medical (which meant biology instead of mathematics)”.

“Could you guys afford coaching classes?”

“No.”

“Then, I strongly recommend that you take arts subjects, instead. Without coaching classes, you won’t be able to pass the exams.”

We thanked them and left. We knew, they were right but we were determined and took admission in pre-medical. College textbooks were in English but I had dictionary and time, so I translated my Biology, Chemistry and partially physics textbooks….

So, why did I feel to the need to tell this story?

Recently, I heard two complains about myself (from friends and relatives), first, that I am living in Jungle (small town) and second that I rarely communicate. Well, if they knew a little about my past, they could understand that my mind have grown so obese that it barely wonders about large cities or becoming more social. Imagine that a boy who once believed that he could attain nirvana, if he had plenty of time and a dictionary gets the chance to order five books at 2 a.m. in the morning (and they only cost him two hours of his work) or he could stop at a thrift shop after work and buy five book just with an hour of his work, what would you expect him spending most of his time? He would literally bury himself in the books, right? He knows very well that, it is not a systematic way of gaining knowledge (or it is unhealthy on the long run but he never been able to live a healthy lifestyle) and he can’t help himself. If you are impoverished for years, your health is the first victim, when you have plenty. You can’t resist the urge of over-consumption, despite knowing the dangers. The access to fast internet and books has fattened my mind.

Conversations With An Afghan Teacher: Part 14

“I liked this interpretation of the history” I said.

“See once, Romans conquered all the olive producing Mediterranean basin and the wheat producing Egypt, the olive trade declined and so the philosophy and democracy with the trade….”

A tractor trolley loaded with foundation-stones roared, as it passed us. It was playing “adda-kona songs” (old bus station; there were music stores that sold audio-cassettes and played loud songs in the noisy traffic) to the loudest, as if the tractor's engine and its speakers were competing for the loudness. In the contest of the noises, I couldn’t hear what the teacher was saying. I kept nodding and smiling, pretending that I am hearing him well. He paused.

“Have you heard of the Darwin finches?” I asked the teacher, once the tractor’s noises faded in the distance.

“I know a bit about them.”

“Don’t you think the diversification, and co-variations of the economic systems and socio-political systems have very much in common to the developments of beak polymorphism in the Darwin finches?”

The teacher didn’t reply. He fixed his glasses and stared down the valley.

“As you know, thirteen (fifteen) finch species were recorded on Galapagos islands…”

“Balay”

“...And they are the well studied. Grants1 studied them for thirty years. They could observe and record the changes in finches as drought changed their food supplies…” I clarified further my question.

“Hmm” was all the teacher said.

I took that response as a sign of silent disagreement.

“Food supply played a key role in human evolution from other apes. One hypothesis is that ancestors of humans started using their hands for collecting food instead of walking like other apes. The freeing of hands made it possible to make tools and increasingly greater supply of food and also migrations to new lands…”

“Balay”

Apparently, my arguments weren’t convincing enough, as they failed to catch the interest the teacher. I felt that down in the valley, there was something more interesting than my arguments. I looked down to find out, what he stared at. Few lights were turned on. I expected the maghrib adhan very soon.

“The seven wonders of the ancient world were either the kings’ burial sites, castles and places of worship. Public buildings such as parliament, churches, mosques and temples were the most prominent buildings till very recent time. But we are witnessing that towers and skyscrapers, with their futuristic designs are becoming more prominent. These towers are the centers of financial activities and is not limited to particular region but are global phenomenon. Food collection and production shaped the ancient humans societies and economies are shaping our world…”

I paused to see, if the teacher had some comments. He was still staring down the valley.

“Are you thinking about something?” I asked.

“Yes.” the teacher replied. “As you mentioned the finches, I remembered an old question that I am still struggling with…”

“What’s the question?” I asked hurriedly.

“Have you heard about the brain’s reward systems?”

“Sort of.”

“Do you still remember our first conversation that I asked you, whether Eids and Wedding celebrations and likes make you happy or not?”

“Balay Ustad!”

“I have long struggled with this questions about behaviors that we enjoy and indulge ourselves into, often obsessively. Take the examples of the craze in football (soccer), cricket, boxing, wrestling, action, thrill and love-story movies, animal racing and fighting, gambling, politics and show-offs just to name few…”

“Balay Ustad.”

“Each of those obsessions have something to do with brain’s reward system…”

“Could have!”

“No, I mean it!

“Balay!”

“Our brain have connected pathways of neurotransmitters that reward us in the form of feeling good for behaviors that increase our survival and reproduction. But Humans have also learned to trick the brain in producing the pleasure chemicals….”

“I am not surprised!” I laughed.

“My point is, since cultures vary in their appreciations for different behaviors, and these variations existed for over hundreds and sometimes thousands of years, they have caused variations in the brain’s reward system. To make things simple, organisms exposed in different settings for long period of times evolve variations, like the evolution of the beak varieties in the Darwin’s finches …..”

Continued….

------------------------------------------------------------

Although, I was introduced to the theory of evolution in 1995-96 through biology class,  but I learnt about Grants’ works (who spent six months of each year on the hot and waterless island of Daphne Major for thirty (more than forty years) consecutive years to study finches) around the year 2000, in the third year of the college.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mcM23M-CCog