I promised myself that this time around, I was going to write about something truly deep — immaculate sentences of joy with carefully phrased anecdotes, and analogies that shed light on the turbulence in our country and our courage in the face of them.

Cue patriotic, copyright-free track.

But not really. When the vaccines rolled out, I had begun — albeit foolishly — to imagine a new dawn. Anxiously clinging on to renewed hope that change was right around the corner, and that we as a nation would finally emerge from this pandemic. But alas, fate had another card up its sleeve. It turns out that this card is my CNIC; an undying testament to the fact that as long as you’re a Pakistani, all that you’re doing feels probably wrong even when (sometimes) done right. And if quarantine was a physical entity, it would’ve definitely started by first and foremost vaccinating itself against us.

But I have to begin somewhere. The recent fiasco surrounding a Nobel laureate? Well, if I was to make my feelings obvious I might also probably get shot. And my friends and family can guarantee you that even on my dead body a peace prize is the furthest accolade that I would be bestowed with. A repost, at best. But please, no hashtags. Although, if you insist, go with #IStandWithTheDead. (Helping you smile even on my death bed.)

Oh wait! I know what we all love to read about — celebrity gossip. It doesn’t matter if it’s premature, as long as there’s loads of it, we’re satisfied. And before anyone decides to create a signboard about my callous use of phrasing, do remember that I’m not the one directing the virality of these sick happenings, popping up every day at a rate faster than newborn babies in this country. That’s all due in equal part to algorithms and culture. You can cancel the former by simply signing out, but for the latter the only hope is immigration. And guess where Pakistanis get cancelled the most? You got it!

Move over Texas — we don’t do exes; we do consanguineous marriages. (Google it.)

What about the hard news? I can try but it’s kind of hard keeping track of who is getting picked up, beaten up or ridiculed.

This is starting to sound like some family trauma baggage so I’m going to talk about this with my therapist instead (who is yet to reply). In the meantime, has anyone checked the weather lately? There’s enough torment as it is, right! Sure, I’m privileged, chilling in a temperature-controlled environment 24/7. But I’m burning up on the inside for all the empathy I have for the less privileged.

Every day, I put out water on my balcony for the crows. It really helps them to rehydrate and shut the hell up. Because noise pollution is not a joke. As for pollution, watch out world, because we’re about to save this planet.

How?

Well, with a tree.

Just one?

No, we’re not as poor as we’ve led you to believe. We’re going to turn this environment upside down with a billion trees!

That’s right. A billion trees. And if you’re confused then don’t be apologetic about it; join the club. Population — the environment and our environment friendly citizens. Proudly choking the atmosphere with fossil fuels still unknown to scientists and guzzling away gung-ho with toxins that enable the sun to shine down upon us with furious, deep-frying love. I bet the billionth tree cannot wait to get planted. With so many anxiously waiting to watch it grow to full health, so that it could finally be chopped down.

Let’s not be so quick to pass judgment. I suggest we do it together as a nation, as we normally do all things. Problem solved.

Despite all these paradoxes, we’re still somehow persevering. I have no clue as to how. I remember being taught a lot when I was a child about the unexplored potential of our land and the people that live upon it. And as much as I would like to track down that professor in these times and manifest a confession through any means necessary, I will nevertheless relent. Because I’ve learned to embrace it. Not because I agree with any of it, or believe that any concentrated effort could still fail to change things for the better. I have 100 percent faith that all that can be done can be done. But most importantly, if it has to be done for the better, then the cynic inside of us has to make its peace with any intended action of the world outside, irrespective of our perceptions about it.

Criticism hardly ever arises in a vacuum of silence. As it is a direct consequence of triggering conversations taking place that in turn prove beneficial towards progress, which is slow, confusing and often overbearing. But as long as we’re listening to one another, it all just might get endearing, with time.

Cue, nap time.

The writer works in advertising as a creative. He posts on Instagram @tahakhan10