Our freedom fighters gave away everything for us. What did we give them?

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We can’t even imagine what our ancestors had to go through in order to get us this country. How many lives were lost. How many desires were sacrificed. How many mothers held the slaughtered bodies of their sons in their hands and still didn’t weep but looked at them with pride. How many people, even who were well settled, left their homes and everything behind just to make an independent country; just for the mitigation of their coming generations. Their wishes, property, respect, dignity, families, EVERYTHING was thrashed. We just simply cannot imagine. Because if we could have we wouldn’t have been wasting our freedom like this.

  MILLIONS of poor Muslims from all over India rushed to the new homeland of dreams when British imperialism announced the partition of India in August 1947. The Indian subcontinent was divided on a religious basis, which made way for hatred and communal violence between Hindus, Sikhs and Muslims in which around two million people were killed. Millions of people migrated to Pakistan for a better life for them and future generations. But their dreams have been shattered by the parasitic ruling class and successive governments. Chronic poverty, unemployment, hunger, super-exploitation, repression, injustice, police brutality, religious extremism, military domination, and the rotten capitalist and feudal system, are the everyday realities faced by the masses after 67 years of independence. The majority of the population is still living without proper healthcare, education, sanitation, clean drinking water, housing and transport. The masses feel betrayed by the ruling elite, the majority seeing no future. Feelings of disappointment and desperation are running high. IS THIS WHY OUR ANCESTORS SHED THEIR BLOOD FOR? They did it all for us and we gave them noting but disappointment. Imagine someone who gave away their life just to fight for independence or Quaid-e-Azam seeing this country, Pakistan -the country of dreams- in the state it is now? Won’t they be hurt? ‘Hurt’ is quite a small word. Won’t he be disappointed see the youth today? The country, that was made on the name of Faith, has totally forgotten Islam. The youth today is influenced by the West and are going after their practices and lifestyle. Admit it! History is repeating itself. WHY DON’T YOU SEE IT? Angraizon ki ghulaami se azaadi paai, aur ab khud chale jaa rahe ho unke ghulam banne.

 Tell me about the last time you thought of doing something for Pakistan? I bet, you can’t remember. That’s because we never did a thing for it. We lack the spirits our freedom fighters had when they were young. We lack the heat rushing through their veins for independence. And you know why? Because we got a free country for ourselves without any struggle; without any enslavement; without any assassination at the hand of non-Muslims. It’s high time. We need to do something for this country and fight for our pride so that we don’t lose the independence we got 67 years ago after the loss of so many lives and so many struggles. THIS COUNTRY IS OUR PRIDE, OUR IDENTITY, OUR FREEDOM AND WE ARE THE FUTURE LEADERS. And as he said,

“With faith, discipline and selfless devotion to duty, there is nothing worthwhile that you cannot achieve.” ― Muhammad Ali Jinnah.

Happy Independence Day, to you all.

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Good art is pain, aggression and gratitude.

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Being a good artist can be the easiest yet the hardest thing in life. Look around you. Everywhere you see all the best and most successful artists of all times have a story behind them. Be it a writer, a music artist, a poet, or an artist or anything.

There are a billion writers, poets, singers, artists, in this world but a very few get somewhere. And an even fewer amount of them are remembered by the coming hundreds of generations. The very few that are remembered for ages must have had three characteristics: experience, talent, and passion. But the main essence in an artist’s art is ‘pain.’ Pain gives away experience, nourishes the natural talent and induces the passion. More the pain, better the art.

There comes a point in almost everyone’s life where you have gotten so hurt that life holds only two options for you: self destruct or build up a new life. The decision is totally in one’s hand to choose.

Majority goes with the first one, considering it the easier one and destructs themselves. They live and depend on different sorts of addiction and drugs. Of course, the devil has a bargain for addiction. A short term good feeling in exchange for the steady melt down of one’s life. They despair and wait impatiently for the absolute end to their destruction. But little do they know, more you run away from your fears, the nearer they get.

The rest of the people go with the latter option. They have been hurt, burnt, thrashed and discarded too. But they decide to live a new life. A new life that revolves around a clutter of pages and the ink of a pen; or around the beats of drums, a rhythm of strings and the melody of his own voice; or around a canvas and psychedelic paints.

A writer escapes his pain through words;

An artist lets out his agony by screaming it out through colors;

A singer gives away his distress by singing his heart out;

The best and most successful artists writings, poems, songs or any kinds of art have an outburst of emotions present in there even if the producer is unaware of it.

The same way the best and most successful artists are the ones who never did it for fame, money or even success. They are the ones who didn’t even have success, money or fame anywhere near their thoughts when they first stepped down on the road of art. They wrote, sung, painted because they themselves wanted to. Needed too. They had to let out their emotions some way and they find art as their way.

Honestly, the easiest to write is when you are feeling real low or real high, let’s sum it up by saying when the emotions are way too intense and hard to be kept in. If that’s when you write, not a thing can make your writing less perfect.

“Do you think I have potential?” She once asked him.

“I think you are talented and passionate, my dear. More than you think and less than you expect. But there are a lot of people with talent and passion, and many of them never get anywhere. There is only the first step for achieving anything in life. Natural talent is like an athlete’s strength. You can be born with less or more ability, but nobody can become an athlete just because he or she was born tall or strong or fast.  What makes the athlete, or the artist, is the work, the vocation and the technique. The intelligence you are born with is just ammunition. To achieve something, with it you need to transform your mind into a high-precision weapon.”

“Why the military metaphor?” She frowned. 

“Because every work of art is aggressive, my love. And every artist’s life is a small war or a large one beginning with oneself  and one’s limitations.  To achieve anything you must first have experience, ambition and then talent, knowledge and then finally the opportunity.” He told her.

As for what my experience tells me, being an artist isn’t an easy task. All them artists you see showered with fame are not what they seem like. They have a whole lot of secrets buried in their hearts. They are the ones who have the most psychotic lives and minds yet appear to be the most civilized people you have ever come across.

‘I should be a traitor to my art if I were to borrow my sitter’s eyes. The face is a marvelous mirror that reflects most faithfully the inner most of the soul; the artist’s business is to see that and portray it; otherwise he is not fit to be called an artist.”

Hence, it is not the clothes he wears or what he looks like that tells you about him. It is the art he produces that tells you the most about him.

Author’s note: Just a philosophy of mine, I posted. Others might have different opinions, but oh well. I hope you like it. And yes, I took that extract from The Angel’s Game, most certainly one of my favorite books. Thank you so much for reading. Feedback would mean the world to me.