allthatschai: LETS EMPOWER OUR MEN !!!

allthatschai: LETS EMPOWER OUR MEN !!!: The 23 rd March parade of Pakistan Armed Forces was finally celebrated after a hiatus of seven years. To say that it was an emotional mome...

LETS EMPOWER OUR MEN !!!

The 23^rd March parade of Pakistan Armed Forces was finally celebrated after a hiatus of seven years. To say that it was an emotional moment for the Pakistani nation going through its most turbulent time would be an understatement.  Paying the actual price of the war on terrorism and being slaughtered by Taliban and abandoned by erstwhile friends, we are fighting a strange war with no beginning and no predicted end. Like the proverbial drowning man, we have clutched onto the “ Show of Force “ of our Armed force on 23^rd March and have flooded the social media with images, videos and songs from the day.

It’s difficult to say what was more powerful , the image of the SSG Commando impulsively kissing the flag before handing it to the President or the Present Chief of Air staff leading the Fly-past.

But, ladies and gentlemen the picture below was the icing on the cake for me. Let’s not forget that I spend a better part of my childhood harassing my dad on the lines, “Why can girls not join the army?” Why can I not fight a war?” It was a proud moment for all of us and brought tears of joy to my eye previously brought on when the women cricket team won the Asia Cup , when Sharmeen Obaid Chinoy won the Oscar and when I look at the smiling face of Ayesha Farooq.

   

However, the purpose of this blog is not to extol the numerous achievements of women in a country known for its patriarchal overtones ridden with male dominance and misogyny. My point is where do we go from here? Can we expect other major changes in our society or not ? In their individual houses, in-laws and general society would these officers be treated even different from the rest of the highly-educated female middle class intelligentsia?

  

 I would really love to know what will happen when a Typical Pakistani man (a mard) will tell these captains with swords and guns that their place is in the kitchen . Trust me the moment will come, it has happened so far to all the brilliant surgeons and physicians I have known and if it’s not going to be a man who says it, random and remotely related women in their life will definitely judge them on their life choices. I know enough about the double standards and hypocrisy of my society to know that this will surely and definitely happen. Even if it’s not as bluntly worded as above, the subtle overtones are always there, that a woman’s prime responsibility is her House  and Husband and who can she juggle both these things with a fulfilling career . The “Women’s place is in the Kitchen “ theory is so well ingrained in the society that no one dare questions or challenges it at all.

I sincerely hope that these dashing officers marry much more enlightened members of the male species.

The predicament is that Pakistani Society has in some ways undergone a complete metamorphosis in the last generation or two and it has left the Pakistani Man stranded helplessly in the past. The modern Pakistani man cannot help being attracted to the women of today, vivacious, well educated, well-spoken, the girl who is independent financially, holds her own in board meetings and ward rounds, what is not to like ? The problems start when the same highly educated woman refuses to bow down to centuries old traditions and refuses to turn into the proverbial doormat. She may run a department very well but ironing shirts in the morning and making that perfect omelets may prove a struggle for her or she may just be totally disinterested in housework. And that is a very bitter pill to swallow for men.

My mother and aunts who were daughters of senior military officers in 1960s and 1970s were well- educated , no one would have frowned if they wanted to pursue professional qualifications but there was no pressure to go looking for careers. The assumption still was that men earn and women run the house.  Women at that time were still confined to the dual profession of teaching and medicine. I remember meeting only one female banker when I was growing up. Now, you walk into any bank and more than half of the time you will be inundated by females.

Mine and my sister’s childhoods in the 1980’s and 1990’s were very different. Suddenly, fathers wanted their daughters to do more. We were taught to be more competitive and more ambitious. Girls started topping more and more board exams and with the introduction of open merit in the medical colleges in Punjab, girls soon started outnumbering boys .  When I joined my public medical college in 1998, the female to male ratio was 3:1. And by the time I graduated, the military had finally opened its doors to having women in administrative wings, public relations and technical fields.

My point is that recently Pakistani women have changed so much. In most middle class houses, there are equal breadwinners. On an international level, we have brought back Oscars, Grammies and even won the Asian cricket cup. We have ran countries, joined armies, flown planes, hold CEO positions and  are  professors of medicine and humanities.

However this price of empowerment has a cost: it has led  to numerous domestic conflicts as our men suddenly find themselves stranded in the past, trying to follow their dad’s a s a role model, not realizing that the women have so moved on.

It would be naïve t o expect a modern Pakistani woman of today to provide the same kind of house-making services which her stay at home mum and mum- in -law did even one generation back. While men are nowadays interested in getting married to working women as a means  of  increasing their own statuses or even giving the family finances a boost ( no harm in that), they also foolishly expect this wife to be domestic goddess or more like a beast for domestic labour.

If we, the Pakistani women have upped our game so much, here are a few pointers for the modern Pakistani men if they still want to be in the run:

1.       Life Skills:

Every human being should know how to fix a simple meal for himself. It is a skill which has led to our survival through the pre-ancient times. Making a cup of tea is not rocket science, has never been, will never be. You make a fried egg by cracking an egg in a pan full of hot oil. Maggie noodles has saved a lot of lives, instructions are printed both in Urdu and English on the packet. Every Pakistani freezer has kebabs in it and since K& N have started their range of kebabs and koftes, lots of aunties are also using them, so can any male. Every nook and corner has a tandoor which gives you fresh roti till late at night. Please learn basics so you are not dependant on the women folk of your life.  Why am   I saying all this? Because only last one month as I finished a 12 hours grueling night shift filled with cardiac arrest and trauma calls, I was asked by my husband if I can get him a cup of tea as I am back home now? I do not think any man has ever been asked something on similar lines.

2.       Washing and Laundry:

Here is news for you: Women did not win the exclusive contract of washing clothes for the household, ever. Just like greatness is thrust upon some people, laundry has been thrust upon us. We don’t necessarily like doing it.

Dirty clothes go in and clean clothes come out. If you are not color blind there is no excuse to mix pink and reds with white and even if you do it once or twice, the damage would have been to your dress shirts only. It’s a steep learning curve, it happens only once and you never mix colors again. I think it tough love but it has to be done. Once again not rocket science. If men can run big factories and industries, a few dials of the washing machine will be easy-peasy to learn.

3.       Get over the Gender Stereotypes:

Please, oh please, gender stereotyping is so last century. If we can drive cars and recently fly airplanes there is no place for the stereotyping role modeling of “Mummy does the housework and daddy does the work outside (“not really sure what that work entails).

This is where we all need to make an effort. If I see one more ad featuring a smiling, over made women frying unhealthy pakoras in gallons of oil, I will scream. Please break the mould, show us the real picture. After all, all the professional chefs in our five stars hotels are NOT women. Men can cook. Let them have their due.  There is one ad which runs in Ramaadan in which a smiling little girl helps her mum and grandmother in the kitchen making iftari while the three generations of men , do nothing much , sitting and smiling on the dining table, I guess just being men.. My three year old son has a brilliant kitchen set which he absolutely loves. Eyebrows have been raised but I have shrugged it away. He can be busy for hours, making cups of tea for everyone. On a similar note the washing powder ads can sometimes show men following the simple instructions in point 2 and washing their own clothes.

4.       A family helps each other :

A very basic lesson to learn. We all live in this house, we all look after it. If mummy is busy with work and is coming late after a meeting and daddy has been here before, he can pick up a few dirty toys and give the lounge a clean. I have yet to see a man die of housework but have seen a lot of women seriously burnt out , depressed and disillusioned by their life choices because the men in their household give them nil help. When you refuse to carry your own plate to the kitchen and persist in hollering for a glass of water every time you are thirsty, you are telling your kids that these tasks are not worth your time and you don’t respect your wife and their mother enough to do them yourself.

5.       Learn to think for yourself

You don’t become the first female fighter pilot in a male-dominated, patriarchal society with strong religious overtones by submitting to every tradition that is thrown at you. You achieve this by questioning every norm, cultural practice, rebelling against known traditions and folklore. Again and again, Pakistani women have rebelled and questioned the shackles binding them and have very slowly but surely made their place in a man’s world. This requires courage and intelligence. I think it’s time our men learn both of the above virtues. Your mum may not be happy with you making cups of tea for your over-tired burnt out wife, but so what? You need to be confident enough and stand by whatever works for your family and your happiness as a couple. As a society we need to start thinking more for ourselves and may less attention to ‘What people will think?”

I am not sure if many people will agree with what I have said, but here it is. I strongly feel the need for a social change and that is only possible if we start empowering our men too. Ladies! I await your comments and suggestions ?

Letter written after 16/12/2014.

Dear Bilal Khan,

I read your letter somewhere yesterday. My dear child,

Since yesterday I have not stopped crying. Yes! I have tried to get through my day, doing my chores, cooking, washing, cleaning, paying bills but not for a moment have I been able to put the tragedy of today aside. It is because Bilal, darling, its true adults do cry too, we also gets our hearts broken, we get hurt and then we cry bucket loads. And the 16th was one of the most tragic days in the history of our country and every adult I know has been crying , because our hearts have been broken beyond repair. I cannot even begin to imagine the grief and anguish your mother must be feeling right now. Will she ever recover from the trauma of losing you? Your clothes, your books, your toys which will even now be scattered in her living room and will probably remain like that for days as she will wait and wait , looking at the gate , hoping that by some miracle you will appear. She will be yearning to kiss you again, to hold your body against her in a hug, to never ever let you go away from her sight again, today is the first day of the rest of her life which she will  only spend in your memory, in a shell of a body whose heart has been plucked away prematurely. They say that if your child dies, you bury him in your heart and he only dies the day you die.

I first found out about the attack this yesterday as I checked my facebook while still in bed. I was still bleary eyed when I read the first post, and then it got worse and worse, waves of shock and terror followed each other.

I have read that you were herded along with your class fellows in the auditorium and then the attackers asked ,“ Who amongst you are the children of army men?”, and none of you even thought of lying. Proud to be the son of a solider you stepped forward and said “ I am, my father is a major in the army.” and that was the last thing you ever said, he killed you then with a single bullet in your head. And that is why I am crying so much today Bilal, because long, long ago, I was a little girl studying in the same school, wearing the same uniform and also the daughter of an army officer. The only difference is that I was born in a different time, two decades before you but in a totally different era. I still remember the excitement of getting into an army truck which used to pick us up from our neat house in the cantonment. The crisp chill of a winter morning and the way our mothers would bundle us up warmly on countless bygone December mornings. The pride we took in our white uniforms, green blazers and polished black shoes: today I saw children injured and dead in that same uniform, nay murdered in their uniforms, in their classes .It must have been the end of the school term and the vacation would just be a few days away and you must have  been  so excited thinking about your coming holidays. They were good schools, these Army Public schools and Colleges, they have made me what I am today.

You must be thinking that adults always have solutions and answers and perhaps I will have an idea what happened yesterday and why it happened. But dear Bilal, we are all baffled , confused today, our core values shattered, we stand more bug-eyed than our children. The only thing I can say that something is very rotten in the state of Pakistan, something has gone very wrong in our country but how to fix it, I don’t have a single idea. That things can go so wrong, so quickly, we as a nation never predicted it. It was only 16 years back in 1999 when I was freely roaming the bazaars of Peshawar, trying out woollen caps and traditional jewellery. However, 10 years later when I was invited to go to Lady Reading Hospital in 2009 (the same hospital in which you were pronounced dead) to visit their emergency department and suggest design changes, my mother threw a proper tantrum that it was too unsafe. In only ten years, Peshawar had turned into a violent city of bombings and terrorist attacks which was not safe to step in. I naively asked my dad , if a military vehicle or escort will be safer and he laughed gruffly, “ You will never come back alive if you go into a military vehicle “. I made other arrangements but the trip never happened due to other reasons.

I had started studying terrorism and the medical response to terrorist attacks for my masters degree by the time. I remember , the horror with which I analysed the data from the Parade Lane bombing and the name of people whom I had known in  better times I had known appeared again and again. I tired counting the total number of civilians who were killed, the pattern of targeted locations and nothing ever made sense.  I submitted my thesis  and armed with a master in Disaster Medicine I made every effort to get involved in the disaster and emergency response in Pakistan but no venue ever materialized.  I was met with nepotism, incompetence and a complete denial whichever way I turned.

And then , something else happened, I became a mother myself and that changed me, for you see Bilal, not every mother is as brave as yours. It is indeed a brave woman who follows her husband into a war torn city like Peshawar, it’s a brave wife who sends her husband to fight in Operation Zarb-e-Azab every day and it was a very brave mother who send you to school that morning. I lost my nerve when I got pregnant. My years of dealing with bomb blasts, terrorist attacks, gun shots as an emergency physician and then writing up my thesis for my masters left me in no doubt of what we were dealing with.  The day I felt my son’s first kick in my belly was the same day, a seven year old boy was killed along with his mother in a suicide attack on a policeman’s house in Karachi. I had lived near that house just a year back. I then decided that I will take my child away. I am very sorry and very guilty but I could not live there any more. I know it’s our belief that whatever is written will happen and I still believe it, but I also believed that we had turned into a nation of monsters, selfish, short-sighted, trigger happy people who failed to see the actual problems. When I was your age, Bilal, we did not know the difference between shias and sunnis, we were never told to dislike ahmadis or call them non-muslims and to be honest to this day I am not sure what’s the difference between Deobandis and Barelvis. We are now so happy calling each other kafirs or non-muslims, that we have stopped being muslims ourselves, nay we have become inhuman ourselves and that is why beasts are coming and killing us and our children. It was not always like that, when I was your age , we were all Pakistanis and we were all muslims and we all thought we would live happily ever after. Who knows who the the first stone ? Who knows who created Taliban ?  There are no answers, just a lot of soul-searching questions.

Sorry Bilal ! I have tried to save my child by fleeing but not everyone can leave. I got tired and I left. I got tired of false promises of men, yes even men with big guns who promised to protect us and failed again and again. I got tired of people never issuing fatwas against Taliban and openly condemning them for their acts. I got tired of sitting in meetings in which “ no lessons were ever learnt”, where no operational debrief could ever take place because everyone was so busy lauding themselves and their agencies that they lost insight of what happened. I got tired of ambulance crews fighting with each other and ambulances of different agencies openly threatening each other. I got tired of what Pakistan and Pakistanis had become.

  And even though I have left, I still sit abroad and cry for what has become of my country. For you see, I carry Pakistan in my heart today, a very special part of my heart and I like to remember Pakistan as it was in my idyllic childhood. A green , green land with fruit trees, rushing streams, flowing rivers and stark mountains, the land which is now tainted in blood.

I cry today because dear Bilal, my generation has failed yours, we could not even give our children a childhood. And therefore, we will keep on crying till eternity. We lost our tomorrow for our today and therefore we must cry.

Love and Prayers for all the children and parents of Peshawar

Mother of Sher Khan.

A cover photo of a student, found on facebook, who got killed in the terrible school attack.

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