Justified in its meaning, the word patriotism is eyed to as love, affection towards one’s country and a sense of cautiousness about the fulfillment of responsibilities in response. The word disregards other nations but one in which the bearer is born thus bringing forth two visions of perceiving its embodiment: the one stated by Guy de Maupassant, "Patriotism is a kind of religion; it is an egg from which wars are hatched." that patriotism is all but a bigoted terminology of afflicting hatred and waging wars. You’d raise interrogations and the person hanged for the buffoon approach he just stamped in but there are libraries of histories of nations existing and those extinct supporting the prejudice. The world has seen mayhem.
However, there is still the optimistic approach many grasp onto: criticizing the nation’s government to virtually scissor the footings of red tap-ism. Related by Clarence Darrow, “Patriotism hates injustice in its own land more than anywhere else.” With the witty phrasing of the sentence, the melodramatic ‘light’ has the upper hand. There do exist, however people frustrated. Call it deepened thinking or spokes of a two-edged swords, these are the ‘citizens of the world’ –most inexplicably exempting themselves of unnecessary debating. What does keep them a subject still is their races to have been leading peaceful lives in the centre-of-gravity sort of countries rather than what drives the thought to a common spectator –an utterly obsolete life in third world nations. Now that’d hurt.
Only a few months back I came across a mate I’d talked less often with recently, and I though I gasped cause it was unlike an elite to have been complaining to a labeled class nerd not having to talk to her, I gave her the right to do so.
We chatted the whole day and I found her pretty interesting. Albeit there was one statement that crossed my mind ruthlessly and I blinked for I couldn’t start a lecture. She’d grinned on hearing how devoted I was to Pakistan and that I intend to implement so much. She submitted her enthusiasm by saying, “Oh you call upon a war between India and Pakistan. Me and my friends, we’d come full fledged alright!”
Really now, that raised a question in my head so dubious for the statement made sheer senseless an approach.
Does patriotism as a Pakistani necessarily imply we exploit protagonists by hating India?
Two completely distinct topics have become so remarkable compulsory to each other, mandatory enough that you’re considered an agent patronizing Hindus or that you’ve said something otherworldly wayward and unheard of.
It stings and disgusts how dying for one’s country means obligatory killing of five of the other side. That thirst of vengeance I’m referring to –the particular scenarios when war is unlikely and repercussions are obvious: news hits the headlines, pointblank conferences and addressing between concerned foreign affairs ministers of both countries, incurred hatred in the mass public, and ultimately the unrest is shifted to pulling up sleeves and waging cold wars.
Gingerly put, all this has been the case since. To an Indian in general and an Indian Hindu in particular, mother earth Dhharti Maa holds quite significance when eyed by the religious perspective –exploiting India and eventually winning over to section the country into two separate nations dawned upon the natives with toxicity. A patriot is highly unlikely to permit this scissoring of one into two. Here, we mustn’t let alone the fact that Pakistani nationalists create a chaos when thinking of how we may end up losing Karachi or to a basic level, creation of a Siraiki province and chanting ‘We are all Pakistanis. No Sindhi, Punjabi, Baluchi, Pakhtun or Mauhajir.’ Barging in the mainstream roads and deafened by their own drum beats on the same hand to the deprivation of voting rights in Gilgit Baltistan.
And if we still converge at painting hatred towards India a radical regulation to the meaning of ‘patriotism’ in Pakistan, I’d say I can only sigh. For a human, no matter how broad minded a lobby he clings to, his blood is pure under the coating. That blood links to the ancestral man who’d impose on himself a demarcation of love and loathing, thus he cannot escape what come together so staunch.
There are however, people who believe in the Aman ki Aasha, the hope for peace in the real essence of the word. It resides in itself a beautiful sentiment that embraces a thought I’d pour in the ink of my pen from mind: you can always be a patriot bearing love toward own people and not loathe the rest.