Pakistan, every time, without fail, leaves me with a crap load of inspiration. We live such privileged lives in the West. I’ve never appreciated central heating as much as I do now, believe me. We all accept the fact we have privilege, but live a week without it, it’s a whole other level of appreciation of your privilege.
Pakistan seemed so much more beautiful this time, not sure what it is. It hardly cleaned up, like.
Let’s start with the sky. It’s way bluer and clearer than our skies. Maybe it’s cause we blew a hole through the ozone layer or something. The sun hits you in the eye, and it’s almost not unpleasant. It doesn’t feel fake and processed. There’s no rain filled clouds waiting to hit you at your worst, it’s kind of a rarity. Instead, there’s a constant smog in the air, also probably something to do with pollution, I bet.
Then there’s the ground. It feels firmer, untouched almost. Safer. If there’s concrete, it feels newer, reflecting the developing nature of the country post years of colonialism. There’s lush green trees all around, used for shade – a well integrated member of society. The grass is unaltered – no extra saturation, trodden on and merged with the world.
The life, the lifestyle. For us in the West, it’s become second nature to keep one eye constantly focused on the clock. Our lives are dictated by the never ending itch of the second hand, getting stuff done on time and moving to the next stuff.
In Pakistan, life is in a steady swing with the elements, slow and steady. You don’t rush, chai breaks are plenty, meals are appointments to be kept and like the elders in your community, to be respected.
There’s a sense of ambition – much like the West. Hard workers are born and bred here, the Nation rose from their beads of sweat and fruits of labour. I think Pakistan just needs to find out what for again. The Modus Operandi is intact but without motive, the case of Pakistan is defunct.
(Pictures taken by yours truly, unedited.)