I was never raised to vote. I was never encouraged to vote. I was never motivated to vote.
Once I started thinking for myself, and I must confess that it was very late in my life that it was possible to do so, I thought to myself, "Why stand in long queues in scorching heat and elect the same set of corrupt and incompetent people". All that was till we weren't given an option. The option to choose and elect someone different, someone who might or might not be able to meet our expectations or really try to turn things around, but nevertheless different! It was worth a shot. And then ofcourse the fact that kept pinching me that what sort of a Pakistani am I if I am not willing to go out there and do my bit. It's not just my right to vote, it is also my duty to vote. To sit at home and complain about the system being corrupt is not the solution. To go out there and vote for a change IS!
It was a somewhat eventful day; one that taught me many things about myself and people in general, and one that brought a unique experience with it. I work for Karachi. I work for my people in my own capacity. I work to preserve and restore our cultural and architectural heritage from the platform of a Social Entrepreneurship and Equity Development company - SEED. The heritage preservation initiative 'Reimagining Karachi' was initiated by Faraz Khan, CEO SEED. Working on this project gave me a new perspective. It encouraged me to explore those parts of Karachi that we don't frequent. Faraz's passion for his country, city and people motivated me to get out of my shell, live the tough life, walk on foot, go to densely populated areas of the city, and it brought a revolutionary change in me. Heat didn't matter, congested roads, traffic, smoke from the vehicles, unkempt buildings; nothing mattered anymore. What mattered was the story behind all of these stone structures. What mattered was the welfare of the people, the progress of the project, dreams that were to be fulfilled, a better Karachi, a better Pakistan.
May 11 started for me quite early. Unfortunately the day began with me spraining my ankle while working in my balcony garden. But the pain and the slight limp did not dampen my spirits. I chose to still go and vote. I stood in a long queue for four hours surrounded by a huge crowd because it was my duty to vote. I did not complain or feel infuriated by women pushing me or elbows jabbing me or constant chatter. You know why? Because out there I saw elderly men and women waiting to vote. I witnessed young girls dressed in tees and skinny jeans handing chilled bottled water to complete strangers out of goodwill. I was amazed by a really old, frail and completely hunched lady still coming to vote. My eyes were delighted at the sight of enthusiasm reflected in elderly people on wheel chairs trying to be part of the change, by young mothers with babies in their arms acknowledging that every vote counts, by young boys and girls volunteering to help those who did not have their serial numbers, by the number of people present. And also because I have no right to be striving to save the architecture and heritage of my city and country if I do not want to cast a vote. I'm still young and energetic; just a sprained ankle and my discomfort in large crowds is no excuse when people had come all the way from North Nazimabad to vote and when elderly women who could barely walk were there so full of excitement and patriotism.
I chose to vote because this is my Pakistan, our Pakistan!
Naya Purana Jaisa bhi, Hamara Pakistan! Sirf Hamara Pakistan.
Hum Sindhi nahi, Punjabi nahi, Pathan nahi, Baloch nahi, Mohajir nahi!
Hum se milye, hum sirf Pakistani hain!
