Long Way from the Royal Courts

Kiran Fatima

ISLAMABAD

On November 14, 2016 a transgender, again, was made a victim of brutality in Sialkot. For the most part, gangs operating in many parts of the country collect extortions from the members of these communities; failing to pay up results in physical assaults and rape.

The incident came into the limelight after the video of the beating went viral on the social media. Which was followed by a video of a transgender Julie, begging the government for protection and appealing for the formation of laws for their rights and security.

Amidst lack of laws and government cooperation, the tormented transgenders prefer to flee to some other part of the country. Left to their own device, a transgender run organization, SAFFAR (Shemale Association For Fundamental Rights), has been set up by a transgender, Nadeem Kashish, to fight for the rights and to provide shelter to the distressed transgenders.

The assaulted transgenders, Julie and Shinaya have also taken shelter at SAFFAR after escaping from Sialkot. Others are also reported to seek shelter there in times of distress, but this organization is not funded. Hence they have to make ends meet.

On Thursdays Nadeem Kashish also hosts a two hour radio show at Power FM99, in an endeavor to address and educate the masses about the social stigma around transgenders, and provide insight that is beyond the claps, beggary, and dances.

“There are two major divisions amongst transgenders. One, the direct descendants of the transgenders from the Mughal Era. The other are from the ordinary families. The beautiful ones become sex workers while others are left to beg on the streets,” explained Kashish.

“It’s a cruel joke of nature. When they aren’t accepted by their own families, and are disowned due to their odd behaviors, who would fight for them when their own families don’t own them, there’s no psychological or emotional help available for them either, leave alone legal coverage,” said Ismat Aman, a lawyer based in Peshawar.

“But we need some laws and representation in the parliament. We understand issues in our communities and we need to help in policy making related to us. Plus, there are elections coming up, and they still haven’t made a separate gender category for us. Lawmakers should ‘at least’ pass a law that would let the transgenders get education till 18 years,” added Kashish.

Officials provided a counter narrative that members of this community are not altogether innocent. They have to run their businesses and consent to anything for money. But they are not given any training or shelter to support themselves either. Government should set up shelter homes for them.

The lack of awareness and failed attempts to make peace with these fellow humans is an eye-opener. In this part of the world, they have transitioned from struggling to revive their former status to finding a respectable human status in the social spheres.

This Fall's Must Dos

Must dos this fall:


1. Read in a quiet corner

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2. Write.

Fall is then best season to get the inner writer surface. grab hold of a pen/paper/parchment, to jot down the prose
oozing out.

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3. Nature walks

Connect. Reflect. Evolve.










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4. Take pictures
Grab your Camera Equipment and hit the road. The best pictures in your portfolio will be from fall.

5. Get crafty: knit.
Sit in the Sun, and start weaving. Sweaters, beanie, mufflers.

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6. jump in a pile of leaves

unleash your inner child

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7. have a weekend fling with the mountains.

Because you must. Period.

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8. watch movies.

take a break from life, step back and relax

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The Seed

Oh what excruciating pain it was. It was dark, and I was buried and breaking. Every cell rupturing. Giving up after kicking countlessly, I felt myself drowning, and like a boat with sails stretched, I let myself go. When suddenly a bright light blinded me, growing accustomed to the rays, I opened myself up. And behold! What fine fingers caressed my petals, and what fine smile met my gaze. Ecstatic!

I will always remember your smiles and your innocent dreams, promise

This day marks a whole year now, I don't know how survivors are coping, or families bearing. I am lost for words, for no phrase comes close to describing the pain, loss, and grief.
Let me share something personal with you:
I was away for two years, a kid who lived next door went to this school. He used to play outside his place each day. When I would pass by he would greet me, smiling and waving, his eyes a little squinted always twinkled from afar. Now, his framed picture hangs in his uniform at the same exact spot. I couldn't bear his absence when my feet traced the same path. The thought of him gone wrenches my heart, even though I never got to know his name. I can't even begin to imagine hundreds of more innocent little ones lost forever, I can't imagine what their parents are since then, going through.
It moved Peshawar, it moved the entire world. And I bet the heavens too cringed during those cursed hours.
I pray we all realize the pain behind each bullet that found a kid. I pray we all feel the vacuum that's left till the end of time. I pray that the realization guides us in putting their pain and sacrifice before everything else. 

Doesn't Feel Like Twenty Fifteen

To begin with I would turn the leaf and wind the clock backward to what happened in Paris a while back. A renowned magazine, based in Paris, took to targeting the sentimental Muslim population not only in Paris but across the globe. The recent Paris killings have spread a new wave of islamophobia and given an incentive to the Non-Muslims to target the Muslims. How 2015 doesn't qualify in making people understand that no religion promotes terrorism or taking someone's life, in fact, teaching completely otherwise, is rather hilarious. The notion being a religion to be highly individualistic. After this many years of evolution, the minds should at least begin to register that the happenings in the name of religion are baseless.

Anyway. Condemning the Paris killings, I extend my sympathies and prayers. We have been through it time and again, and understand their pain in these trying times. It's about time everyone lowers their discriminatory flags and agree to at least live and let live, peacefully; Without planning to mischievously bring certain groups down to be on top and have the underhand doings surface after it's done and dusted.

Coming Home, a Grand Pleasure

Somehow coming home each time is almost always a grand pleasure. Now others may not seem to be affected. But the secret longing finally being fulfilled has no give or take. U decide when your schedule will allow you to escape from heaven even, just to be home. And plan ahead of time. Witnessing every mood of the unwinding road, luxurious n crappy. Comfortable n life sucking. Adding voluminous clippings to the depth of one's soul. Travel. I tell you, travel as much, travel as far n wide as you can. 



A Unique Case of "Jalaibee"

The rich sugary warm low hanging scent is well known to all the pedestrians, the magical patterns that are are weaved renders it’s luring capabilities fully effective, making every mouth watery, and no head unturned.  With over a quarter of the population diabetic, Jalebis are never taught to be selective in alluring. the sugar filled rings entices everyone into grabbing a few bites, its claws blinding people with desire. this is where it gets really dense. when fingers crawl for another ring, the head gives a halt call, so people instead indulge into a battle between craving and turning away. it’s borderline genius how nobody gets to think of making it soggy and finally making those crispy juicy crazy patterns fall into a straight line. After all it’s inviting and delicious to the eyes and taste buds, who has the heart to look into the doings of something so innocently sweet and toothsome. i wouldn’t at least think of what’s it made of, what it does inside, and how’s it acquired. who would choose to delve into the tubes of its components instead of munching away with a conscience as clear as a crystal?

Incoherent attempts at Love

An unstoppable tear-shed, thinking of all the times i was abandoned and yet i wasn't, to think of all the times i cried alone and yet alone i wasn't,  to think of all the times my wishes were granted and my attempts succeeded, the loving strokes His breeze carried.. to the poetry birds sung to the beats the oceans rolled, and notes hearts jazzed to. The mountains and leaves and valleys and rivers portraying the poetry i would too have expressed much similarly  had i set forth to paint His praise. The patience He exhibited against my timeless sins. Of knowledge He bestowed when of ignorance i hid my face. Of countless secrets He kept, of His support and security, of His watchful gaze, of all the pains i was kept safe from. Of my burdens He carried the larger share of, of times He overlooked my faults. And above all He let me be exactly the way i was. I didn't have to change for Him. A relationship with no pretense. The rarity!

Thus i came to know God;

God, have you left?

I write this, hoping that it'd reach you,

I remember the times when you used to be a prayer, a call or a cry away. then there were times when people would gather and make a collective call. Even that used to work. But none of it, in fact nothing at all qualifies anymore. You've sort of turned away far beyond anybody's reach, and now i think that the last chord has been cast away too.
I remember stating my issues when i'd come across warnings in your scriptures every now and again. it breaks my focus i'd say, i feel scared i'd complain. It terrified me. But now i'm beginning to register why - so man would refrain.
Turn back God, have mercy, we'll behave, help us, guide us.

Gone to conquer the heavens

four a.m and i wake up
to the sound of a mother's wail
the pain never to hold him again
i gasp and hide my face turning away
thanks God i have no share;