2070

We are in LUMS. The year is 2070. The best culture has won. Everyone speaks English, wears Gucci belts and blazers, carries apple mac books, and eats chicken sandwiches. There is harmony in everything. All the disciplines are the same. History is the history of the Culture. Literature are the stories of the Culture. Everything is from the lens of the Culture. SDSB trains you to be resourceful to the economy. The engineering school focuses on maximizing the utility of human body through science. Our motto is earnest creation of labor for the world’s market and economy. For the global good. It is only through standardized quality, technological advancement, and specialized labor that the doors of development and progress can be opened.

The Pakistan I was born was entrenched in chaos and anarchy. Angry men took to the streets, burnt tyres, destroyed automobiles and chanted slogans in the name of national liberation. The speeches that were aired on television comprised of sentiments that aimed to protect the Pakistani culture which, according to the men, was being replaced by the Western culture. I remember my first day of school. It was recess time. I was sitting in a circle with my class fellows, and eating lunch. Our teacher was called to the principal’s office. When she came back, she had an expression of frustration and weariness on her face. She grabbed us by our arms, and took us to the basement. We stayed there till dark. She told us that bad men were outside so as long as people stayed inside, they were safe. That day, a fear settled in. I grew up praying that the men would disappear from Earth. Why did they want to burn shops and hurt people? What did they want to preserve? Their idea of food and those weird clothes? What they frequently called “pakistaaniyat”? Why did they hurl abuses at English medium schools, western attire (my attire), office jobs and recreational life? Why did they warn the country to reject Western ideas or we would lose our freedom as a nation?

These questions remain unanswered till today. In what they rejected, I saw success. All successful men of the past that I studied about in school dressed up in pant suit, wore oxford boots, and carried laptop bags with them. My rich friends’ fathers also wore the same clothes, spoke the same language, and lived the same lifestyle. The country’s Prime Minister, President, and ministers were the same. These men lived a life of happiness, luxury and ease. They were always on a vacation in Europe or the States, ate European cuisine, played soccer and golf, and listened to American pop music. Young boys wanted to grow up to be just like them.

Standing in the PDC counter queue, I know what I will be having for dinner. There is no unnecessary city wars about food; about how the Kashmiri chaye isn’t authentic, or how the biryani tastes like pulao because Lahoris can’t differentiate between the two. I will watch a soccer match at the Student Lounge after dinner. There is no hustling due to a loud and charged crowd of students for a Karachi Kings versus Lahore Qalandars match. On the weekend, LUMS will host a rising singer with a British accent for a concert which I will attend. No one bats an eye about why Coke Studio’s renditions continue to destroy classic music, or how tabla and raag should be taught in schools. Everything is standardized. All people agree with each other. There are no arguments. No one feels the need to dress a certain way, or eat a certain cuisine, or speak a certain language for the purpose of identity, culture, or resistance. None of it matters, because everyone is the same. The world is a simple and harmonious place to live in.