The roots of Punjabi culture (Way of life) are linked to a thousands-of-years-old civilization and culture. In the everyday life of Punjab, the Manji (cot/charpoy) held great importance; for this reason, the Manji has been used in many idioms and metaphors. Regarding the Manji, the most famous phrase was the humorous sentence from Ahmed Rushdi’s song in the movie Jaidar, “Yes oye, where should I lay my Manji (Manji Kithe Dawan)?” Later, in 1974, a Punjabi comedy film was also made in Pakistan by the name of “Manji Kithe Dawan”; its cast included Munawar Zareef, Rangeela, Sangeeta, Saiqa, and Ishrat Chaudhry. Since culture includes civilization, thought, intellect, and daily experiences, many hidden meanings are concealed within these Punjabi phrases, idioms, and songs. These phrases are important, but the importance of any phrase keeps increasing or decreasing according to specific circumstances. Let us try to understand the changing circumstances through phrases and idioms connected to the Manji.
In recent circumstances, the popular idioms (on everyone’s tongue / buzzwords) are “swiping a stick under the cot” (Manji thalle daang pherna) and “thumping/fixing the cot” (Manji thok dena). In politics, the worst condition today is that of the rulers. Every other day, their “Manji” is being “thumped” (fixed), but they appear so helpless and powerless that despite being “thumped,” they are unable to even cry out loudly. It clearly seems that they are hiding their tears. The common custom is that only the opposition’s Manji gets thumped, while the rulers remain seated on secure, safe, and comfortable cots. But this time, a strange tradition has started: for the sake of the reset plan, a stick is being swiped under the cot, and in this process, even if their own people’s “Manji” is being “thumped,” no one cares. The rulers become immune to pressure and emotions; whether someone is their own or an outsider, an ally or an opponent, it is not important—the agenda is important. In this, whether someone’s “Manji” is lifted (Manji chaki jaye) or their “Manji-Bistra” (bed and baggage) is rolled up, they neither have any concern with it nor do they care about it. That is precisely why they are the rulers, and all the rest are the oppressed.
In Punjabi culture, along with Manji, “Daang” (heavy stick) and “Soota” (baton) are also very meaningful words. Both Daang and Soota mean a stick. Daang, however, is larger and longer than a Soota. A famous Punjabi proverb goes, “Jidhi daang, ohdi majh”—that is, “Whoever possesses the stick, the buffalo belongs to him.” In Urdu, this very proverb is famous and well-known regarding “Might is right” (Whose stick it is, his buffalo it is). In the politics of creating provinces taking place at this time, stick-and-baton violence will occur, but the rulers do not care about this fear of the oppressed. An admirer of the rulers said that for the improvement of the system, the sacrifice of fifty or a hundred lives is not a big deal. It seems as though the “Daang” has been raised (preparations for a fight are underway), and an intention to straighten everyone out with the stick alone is being expressed. On the other hand, the oppressed are also sitting ready to “receive the stick blows,” although the future condition of the governmental Manji does not look good.
In the urban and elite life of Punjab, the role of the Manji has now diminished because bedrooms have beds, or the rich use bedsteads. In the life of the common man, the Manji was important before, and in rural life, it remains the most important even today. God’s creation, human beings, fall ill, and human creation, the “Manji,” also breaks down many times. Just as when a human catches a cold and flu, taking a pill or drinking a hot herbal brew brings relief, similarly, often the “Dawain” (tightening rope at the foot) of the Manji becomes loose, and when it is tightened, the Manji becomes “healthy” again. Most people thought that only the Dawain of the system was loose, and if it were tightened through empowered local government institutions, the system would start running. But it was announced that the system is not loose, but rather has “collapsed.” If the Manji is severely ill or damaged, in Punjabi, it is called “Kaanr” or crookedness. If the Manji gets soaked in rain, it becomes slanted and lopsided. Its method of treatment is that a heavy weight is placed on the Manji or charpoy to straighten it out; but if the weight is removed from the Manji immediately, the Manji becomes crooked again. However, if the weight is maintained, the Manji restores back to its correct and old state. The leaders of major political parties thought that there was a Kaanr in the system’s Manji—that is, the Manji was lopsided due to an imbalance in the powers of institutions; if democratic and political weight was maintained on it for a few years, the system’s Manji could be restored back to a correct state. But their impression turned out to be wrong. When it was revealed that despite 18 hours of hard work by the Prime Minister, the system could not be fixed, the delusion was dispelled that there was a Kaanr in the Manji, because a Kaanr is correctable. Before the “Manji breaks,” the symptom of the disease that manifests is called the shaking of the Manji’s “Choolain” (joints)—that is, the structure becomes weak due to the weakening of the charpoy’s joints. Sitting on it produces sounds from within, and many times it feels as though the Manji’s side-rails and legs (Baaiyan and Paya) are about to break. The rulers feel that the joints of the charpoy or Manji have shaken; that is why the carpenters and joiners of the system are bent upon cutting the arms and legs present within the system using planers and saws.
Every structural component of the Manji or charpoy is important: the leg has its own importance, the side-rail has its own, and the joints have their own. But the most important of all is the “Baan” (woven string/rope), with which the charpoy is woven. Sitting on it becomes possible only because of it. If there is no Baan and weaving, the charpoy is merely a frame; Baan is the flesh and blood of this frame. In the system’s Manji or charpoy, the Baan is actually the public or the oppressed, whose name is used a lot, but they are only used. No one even thinks about their need and utility. The limit is being reached where, through the assemblies formed under the very elections conducted in 2024, thoughts are being given to conducting a referendum by rejecting provincial legislation—as if these assemblies are not representatives of the public, and public opinion can only be known through a referendum. If this principle is truly operational, then a referendum should be held on every constitutional amendment first, and only later should it be passed by the assemblies. A Manji or cot looks good if it is straight and large. The way talk is taking place by departing from the constitution, law, and established principles and rules, a fear has arisen in me that while fixing the joints of the system, inexperienced carpenters might overturn the cot (Manji) altogether. Just as getting an operation done by a quack doctor is dangerous, fixing the system’s Manji through quacks of politics is not wisdom. If the ‘Manji’ is repaired with the consent of the household, the agreement of the Baan (public), the support of the side-rails, and the help of all four legs, then the cot (Manji) or system will remain standing; both the common people and the elite will continue to benefit from it. If the cot itself turns upside down, the rulers will suffer the greatest loss.