A choice of palliatives

What or who do we turn to for solace during these dark days of economic distress and political uncertainty? The point is that we need some form of a sedative to ease the pain that we have to bear, living in these difficult times. But the problem is that even the most potent palliative would lose its effect in a short time and the reality would reassert itself with a greater force.

One option, potentially suicidal, is to find the escape of a drug addict and forsake reality. We are told that this kind of addiction has increased in our society and one minister of the present cabinet had recently quoted horrendous figures about its prevalence among college students, including girls.

In any case, we all have to find our ways of coping with the prevailing circumstances. And there are a few distractions that, unlike a pill, genuinely enhance your capacity to bear the pain of living in these times at an emotional and intellectual level. Such as cultural, artistic and literary pursuits.

Gratefully, there has been a steady growth in cultural and literary festivals and the quality of discourse at these events has improved. This weekend, for instance, we have the second edition of the Adab Festival in Karachi. It is a large enterprise and a veritable gift for the city’s intelligentsia.

Last week, I was in Islamabad to attend a national dialogue, sponsored by the Pak Institute of Peace Studies, that covered a wide spectrum of issues. It underlined the grave issues that we confront and in that sense left the concerned audience in a more dejected state of mind. Any serious contemplation of the reality of our existence is likely to leave us with sad thoughts.

So, a literary festival or a cultural performance is also a palliative the spell of which lasts for a while. But this is the kind of intellectual and spiritual relief that we need to raise our spirits. Spectator sport engages a vast number of people and we have cricket as a more popular distraction.

Now, it is not just cricket that I could use as a peg to talk about the innings that Prime Minister Imran Khan is playing. His flamboyance on the political pitch is something that sometimes surprises you and sometimes it becomes a source of amusement. It is good that he does not read from a script when he makes his speeches.

But ruling the country without a script is another matter. Here, I am not alluding to his endless U-turns. One problem is that you do not know when he is serious and when he is not. In this confusion, the message is usually lost or is fairly diluted.

For example, why did he have to embellish his recollection of how an apparently opiate injection had affected his senses by bringing up the image of ‘hoors’ with reference to nurses. It seemed to be a story he would occasionally tell in the company of close friends. It was a magical drug that quickly relieved him of a severe pain when he was injured during the election campaign in 2013.

Expectedly, a lot of fun was made in the media, particularly social media, of the ‘teeka’ administered to Imran Khan by a doctor who refused a second dose even when the big leader was demanding or pleading for it. That clip naturally became viral.

I want to use this wisecrack in a metaphorical sense. When we are in pain, we too want some relief. An ordinary palliative -- a rosy promise? -- will not do. Yes, we do try to manage our pain and our distress through our own devices. Denials and delusions tend to help. Many of us find solace in our personal relationships.

By the way, one remedy that Imran Khan may have offered in another context is worth trying. The advice is: don’t read newspapers and don’t watch television. In other words, disengage yourself from the mainstream media and you will be spared of all the news of derelictions committed by the functionaries of the government. I confess that I feel a little better when I do not watch the talk shows.

There is little doubt that we are all very worried about the current situation. Imran Khan himself has certified this state of affairs by saying that some of his ministers have that gloomy look on their faces. The message here is obvious. Don’t worry, “mein hoon na!”.

It has been suggested by one of Imran Khan’s ministers that merely his presence in the cabinet meeting or a gathering can be therapeutic. I am referring to a clip from a television interview of Minister of State for Climate Change Zartaj Gul, responding to a question that the situation must have been rather unnerving for her.

Starry-eyed, she said in effect that “when we see Imran Khan smiling, we forget that anything is wrong”. She explained that the world knows about his “killer smile” and praised his body language and that the ministers are often inspired by the way he walks. After all, he is the finest charismatic man.

This is not something to laugh about. A leader’s charisma certainly casts a spell. And Imran Khan is charismatic, though much of this charisma may now be wearing off. But if it still holds for his diehard followers, they are lucky to have some means of emotional sustenance. The rest of us, sadly, are deprived of this medicine.

This is not the occasion to expound on the uses of charisma in the midst of a crisis that has overwhelmed Pakistan. However, it seems important to note that Imran Khan had earned his glory as the captain of Pakistan’s cricket team and later as a great campaigner and fund-raiser for his dream cancer hospital.

Politics is a different ball game. It is becoming obvious that he is not playing it well. His admirers may still be comforted by his ‘killer smile’. But it surely brings no cheer to the common man on the street. The writer is a seniorjournalist.

Email: ghazi_salahuddin@hotmail.com