Today (well, technically yesterday, since it’s past 12) is Pakistan’s Independence Day. I personally felt no extraordinary zeal or zest for the land of the pure. Is it my lack of patriotism (sun), my anxiety about belonging (moon), or rising sedition? (Please pardon my astrological metaphors; recently learned from a friend.)

I never—of course, I am exaggerating; that’s what poets do anyway—felt much for my own birthday. Perhaps I am still unable to grasp the importance (or the dread and brevity) of the flow of time.

If time is creativity unfolded, I don’t feel progress. If it is a movie playing with no rewind, I still lack the desire to go back.

Continue reading Faiz, Subh-e-Azadi, and Pakistan’s 78th Birthday: