S Tariq As each Fourteenth Day of August approaches and then passes, I sit and stare at a photograph that adorns my study. This picture shows our Founding Father addressing the nation on Independence Day. I watch the Quaids countenance change from satisfied anticipation to sadness and remorse, as he watches his dream lying in a blood-stained heap on the altar of corruption and moral decay. The other day, a friend driving at the prescribed speed limit on the M2 was overtaken by two cars. The first vehicle had a covered flag post on one side and circular green number plates with a metal logo depicting the 'scales of justice. The second car belonged to the motorway police and was in all probability escorting its charge. Both cars must be doing at least 160km per hour, as they whizzed past traffic in utter disregard of the speed limit set for all citizens of this land. My friend caught up with the vehicles at one of the rest areas and crazy as he is, walked up to the driver of the one with the green plates and asked him as to why he was violating the law. He was stunned when the driver brazen facedly retorted that he was authorised to drive at any speed because of security. My friend then looked at the vehicle and saw that the number plate was in contravention to all rules of the road - it was circular and illegible because the registration figures had been written in a triangular sequence on both sides of the official logo. I was pained to hear this story, more so because the vehicles in questions belonged to those that were sworn to uphold the law - a law that is blind to expediency, rank or position. The other day, sitting at another acquaintances home, I heard that the staff in a well known and oldest government hospital in Islamabad were demanding large sums of money from affected families to hand over medical reports related to grave offences of child abuse. I could not comprehend as to why victims were being asked by the police to obtain such reports, when it was the polices duty to do so. I sat through the narration in dismay seeing nothing, but the shattered remains of what my Founding Father held most dear - honesty and dedication to duty. Driving to attend an iftar in suburban Islamabad, I found that the road which served a large rural community was almost un-negotiable because of rain damage and neglect. On arrival at my destination and commenting on the condition of the road, I was told that a ruling party luminary living in the same area had contrived to get the road to her house resurfaced recently. The same luminary, I was told had got gas to her residence on emergent basis through a specially laid pipeline many months before such connectivity was officially opened to the public. I recently had the opportunity to visit Lahore to see an ailing relative and returned half mad with anger and frustration. The traffic was a chaotic mess, there was no electricity and the storm drainage was non-existent. I found traffic wardens standing one legged under shops and in one case sprawling on a chair, oblivious of the fact that cars, vans, buses and of all things donkey carts, were locked in a traffic snarl beyond description. In another case, I witnessed a spectacle where the motorcyclists and car drivers were blatantly violating one-way rules right under the noses of two grey clad cops, one of whom was busy talking on his cell phone, while the other had his ear next to the instrument trying to get a piece of the action. It appears that morons sit in high places that provide services to the public such as the National Highway Authority. I fail to understand as to why cant these blinkered individuals comprehensively check the annoying phenomenon of idiotic drivers bulldozing their way into lines of vehicles waiting at toll plazas. My grandson provided a perfectly good answer to this question, when he turned around to me and said: These people should channelise vehicles into lanes by putting up concrete dividers starting a kilometre short of the toll gates and going right up to the booths? Well why not, for Gods sake? Perhaps, my grandson is too young to understand that no amount of pen waving will have an effect on the ones who can change things and bring relief to the simmering millions in this 'land of the pure. Comfortably, ensconced in their air conditioned offices and cars and enjoying perks at the cost of the taxpayer, these individuals have sold their souls to the devil and in doing so have betrayed the blood and sacrifice that made Pakistan possible. The writer is a freelance columnist.