The extinction of dinosaur was always eminent yet still we prayed in evolution, and now on his death bed he whines of a great country he could have been. A great nation he was meant to be but never achieved. He remembers how he somehow was able to free himself from the jaws of the Hindu nationalists and saved his brother as well. He still wonders if the rift between his brother and him could be resolved. Maybe it was his pride that lead to the separation, yet still he hopes for better of his brother who now shines in his mightiest health.
Born in 1947, the beast it was supposed to be turned out to be a shadow of the expectations of the world. The problem he had faced was not from outside but from inside. Drenched by provincial autonomy and nationalistic agenda , he just wonders what more he will have to see. Tough he is only 64, yet still he cant take it anymore. He now hates Iqbal and Quaid for putting him through this torture. His 4 children’s and 3 adopted ones look to make more children of his dynasty and that pains him to bits and pieces. Yet still he hopes that these younger will bring peace and prosperity but his optimism is limited due to the torture he has faced in 64 years. More children mean more problems and he realizes the struggle he will have to go through to keep his family united.
He just wonders how no political party is presenting an agenda on him and concentrating on his children instead and some on the unborn as well. It would have been fine for him to take the back seat, but his children’s differences are too wide and varied, and their constant nagging and complains just rubs salts to his wounds. He looks towards the heavens and wonders his purpose, when he is owned by no one and appreciated by none at a time when nationalistic and provincial agendas prevail. He cant go on and pass away the power to any of his sons since that would mean breaking his empire, his thought and subsequently his family. None of his children display brotherhood and sincerity and rejoice on their nationalistic approach .
He weeps in tears at his helplessness because his death is eminent and so is the death of Iqbal's dream so is the end of Quaid's Sadqah-e-Jariah. Suddenly his sons rush in with announcement of three new children and he gasps in air and suffers a heart attack . He is still not dead yet still his sons unite for once just to bury him alive. In his grave he weeps in bloody tears of a nation he could have been.
Pakistan is dying and it’s a harsh reality. Pakistan is not dumb to realize that how provincial autonomy , promotion of culture and some political agendas is damaging and demeaning him. Its high time its loyals stand up and own him and disown all those involved in burying him alive. I ask you to deown any nation any province you belong to and OWN PAKISTAN FIRST.
I PROUDLY OWN PAKISTAN