I am at thought, a thought of an old man, or a young man or of a child, I dont know. I just feel an agony, an unbearable pain and a heap of fears. I feel myself maimed and I m lingering towards no direction. The question of identity stings me that who I am? O Come, before this that I forget myself totally. I want to tell you that I am a Pakistani thought. A unified Pakistani thought full of dark, deep fears, drowning in the ocean of my own blood, finding no shore to survive myself. Let me share, what my fears are about? Whenever it rains, it seems to me that huge tides will come to destroy my fields and my home. I feel the pangs of cruel hunger in my stomach after that expected famine. I feel myself homeless in anticipation. Really I know no rainbow, no soothing effect of rain, no songs of nightingale. I can see only rising levels of water in my muddy streets, threatening to cross the boundaries of my home. I experienced dark rainy nights in my suffocated room without electricity because I am that creature who is habitual of bearing horrible energy crises. I have rainy seasons but that water is not being used to solve energy crises rather having no boundaries it becomes merciless and bring destruction. I feel the end of motivation, the end of urge to touch the sky. I feel myself switched on and switched off with electricity. I fear to go back towards stone ages. I am pushed back forcefully and I fear to fell down in blind wells of failure forever. I have to spend this dark, suffocated night under my weak roof because I fear to go outside. Another wave of fear is rising to become a part of me, telling me about dengue monstrous. May be those natural blessings are not for me, the open air to breath and blue vast roof to sleep. And nature is forcing me to become a rat running among dead bodies. I am not T.S .Eliots waste Lander because my theological state promised with me for a good future and fulfillment of my all ambitions but that wasOnce upon a time. Now the fear of bullet and blast is a throne in my flesh and I bleed. Yes I am a Pakistani thought, experiencing a death before time, a living death and dont know who is responsible for that. But listen sometimes my conscience stings me and ask me if it is my individual corruption which is responsible for that I am being punished by my Allah like Namrood and Pharaoh? Allah is not merciless rather its my own deeds, my own wrong choice of path which dragged me in terra firma of fears and horrible darkness. The need is to pull my own reins towards Sirat-e-Mustaqeem which is a path of Falah and leads towards ultimate success. The need is to get rid of stuffed and hollow values and replace it with those practical teachings of our religion which are not mere theories rather implies all utilitarian aspects of the life of 21st century and even for all times to come. Yes he is not merciless I believe and this belief forces me to wait for health, peace, completion of my dreams, luminous evenings and bright mornings free of fears because if winter comes can spring be far behind. The writer teaches at government College Sahiwal.