Throughout my life, I have been prone to injuries. I even got injured playing snooker when an errant wooden splinter decided to find its way into my palm. But in a trade-off, I am better off than people who are prone to making absurd decisions and choices. This may not get me far in case of any political ambitions that I may harbour, though, as it seems that being clueless about decision-making is a pre-requisite to success.

As all leading dictionaries toil day and night to update their definitions to somehow reflect the current government in their explanations to ‘ridiculous’, rumour has it that the ruling party’s ruling party (a state within a state, anyone?) are all anxiously sitting by their telephones waiting to hear the good news: that their actions define ‘ridiculousness’. During a tea break, a source confirmed that two of the persons had forgotten what news they were waiting for. There was laughter, some remarks were shared about how one didn’t forget to accuse the other of money laundering but forgot this, some high-fives, and back to waiting for the call. Come what may, the government deserves at least this: they are aiming to set the gold standard for ridiculousness.

In support of their claim to be rewarded with international recognition, I presume the following information was submitted.

In the Lahore summer heat, the government initiated a new police training exercise. The opportunity arose when during a game of 20 questions, Mr. Tahir ul Qadri cheated his former ‘murids’ by thinking of himself when the category was ‘known and relevant political forces in Pakistan’. Angered, the efficient police force was sent with this directive: ‘break all the barriers guarding his house, like we used to break the wickets when we got out playing cricket’.

As this simple task turned that little bit violent, the CM while witnessing it on TV covered his eyes (leaving a gap between his fingers so he could still actually see), turned to his aides and said, “I have not seen this!” The aides were mesmerised! Such brilliance, such…ridiculous brilliance!

A week later, as Mr. Qadri was returning to do something nobody still understands, the King’s men got together to discuss what ‘political acumen’ meant, and in particular what ‘acumen’ meant. One of them jumped up and said, “Gents! How about we divert an international airline at the last minute?”


“No reason, it just sounded like a good prank. Wouldn’t an April fool prank work even better if it’s not on 1st April?”

Wide-eyed and taken aback, everyone slowly rose to their feet. It appears it started with slow applause, leading to a crescendo of “Kitna maza aye ga! Tee hee hee!”

Mr. Imran Khan started the famous dharna sit-ins against election rigging, but the ‘Go Nawaz Go’ chants were taken as encouragement: the dharna was in support of the government, to go on and continue! When asked if the claims of rigging were true, the reply was, “We would have won anyway, but ‘dhaandli’ is such a cool word! Just hear yourself say it. Who wouldn’t want to do ‘dhaandli’?”

One night, the King wanted to play ‘chor police’, and someone said, “There’s only six of us. How about we tell our police to play the game with the dharna-ers?” Exhilarated by the idea, excited calls were made to the SSP Operations, Mr. Ali Nekokara, who informed them that this ‘game’ might lead to another Model Town like incident.

All eyes turned to Mr. Nekokara. Hands got fidgety, nervous excitement made legs tremble. “Really?” they asked.

“Yes,” he said.

“That is awesome!” they said.

As Mr. Nekokara watched in disbelief and sighed, high fives and slogans of ‘oye hoye hoye!’ went around. And so it was, the game of ‘chor police’ ended with no apparent winners but countless injured ‘chor’, while Mr. Nekokara refused to play. He gave his reasons for it, which both legal and civil service experts find cogent. But the government knew: he didn’t play because he did not want to be ridiculous, and that was something they could not tolerate.

Six months from then, the Government revived its claim of being ridiculous beyond ridicule. The final play was to dismiss Mr. Nekokara from service for ‘inefficiency and misconduct’. Inefficient in that he did not organize the ‘chor police’ game, misconduct in that he did not play. Now, his appeal is pending before the PM, with no decision in sight.

I am impressed. This is as good a resume as it gets. No stones have been left unturned. Countless nights have been spent discussing innovative ways to garner such interest. The government deserves all recognition that it gets, and nobody can take that away from him. The ‘dhaandli’ claims are also bearing fruit. While the matter is still before the Supreme Court, it appears Imran Khan was right. Mr. Hamid Khan was definitely right, and Mr. Saad Rafique most definitely wrong.

If any of the you King’s men read this, I would urge you to look at the word ‘satire’ in the dictionary and realise that these are not actual achievements. The people of Pakistan deserve at least some superficial show of respect. Mr. Nekokara is a learned man and an honest and upright officer. Your complete lack of diplomacy and this constant urge to one-up every other person in the room is going to derail you before you even know it. Justice will hopefully prevail when this matter comes to court, and I would not be surprised if the word ‘ridiculous’ is used in judgments against your actions.

People are prone to shooting themselves in the foot. But with each action, you are clasping another lock into the suicide vest that will blow up your political career. The clock is ticking, there is still time, try and take the vest off and hope that people forgive and forget.