The long march used to be called a procession; then it gradually adopted the new and modern names of protest, rally, and long march. When there is a long march, the idea of a crowd comes to mind. If you look at history, slogans, noise, and then batons, guns, teargas, tanks, and armored vehicles come to mind; now containers and nails have also been included in this dictionary. But if politics and protest are to be described in the language of love, then the old terms of the lover, the beloved, and the rival are recalled. If power is the beloved, then in the fight between the lover and the rival in past eras, daggers, swords, knives, and blades were the terms of competition.
Several types of knives/blades are well-known: the blunt knife, the sharp knife, the sweet knife (meethi chhuri – a wolf in sheep’s clothing / deceitful weapon), and the Chhappan Chhuri (56-stab blade). The sweet knife is used by allies against each other, whereas the Chhappan Chhuri wounds the adversary without even striking a blow. Chhappan Chhuri was actually the title of Janki Bai Allahabadia. Born in Banaras in 1880, Janki Bai’s mother was Manki and her father was Shiv Balak Ram. When the family’s financial condition deteriorated, the mother and daughter reached Allahabad, where they underwent training in classical music to become part of the kotha (courtesan) culture. Janki Devi, like Gauhar Jaan, was a famous singer after the arrival of the gramophone (the talking box). Janki Devi was twelve years old when a constable named Raghunandan attacked her with a knife. Raghunandan wanted a sexual relationship with Janki. Upon her refusal, when he attacked her with a knife, Janki received many wounds on her body and face, which were later said to be fifty-six (56) wounds. From this, Janki Devi earned the name Chhappan Chhuri. Janki Devi had knife scars on her face, which is why she used to sing from behind a veil. Time passed, and the real Janki Devi was forgotten; now the metaphorical idiom of Chhappan Chhuri refers to a lively and captivating woman who strikes with her beauty, charm, and style. Fresh news has arrived that the long march scheduled for September 27 has been postponed to October 4, as if the tormenting September will now rise in October. The strikes of the long march were like those of a Chhappan Chhuri, while the government’s arrangements were like a blunt knife. In idiomatic language, slaughtering an adversary with a blunt knife means causing them more pain and letting them die a slow, agonizing death. Jamaat-e-Islami was dealt with through a sweet knife, although normally in a battle and competition between lovers, a sharp knife is used because it finishes off the opponent and rival immediately. And if the rival is eliminated, then acquiring the beloved or the ‘Laila of power’ becomes the easiest task.
Lest we forget, at one time Wazirabadi knives and blades were famous; I personally received such a sharp edge from a Wazirabadi knife that to this day a deep mark remains on the first finger of my left hand. My late father in Gujrati (Gujarati language) always used to call a knife chaqqu. The strikes of a Wazirabadi chaqqu were straight and direct; the wounds from its edge drew blood, but they healed. Today’s Chhappan Chhuris’ strikes and edges leave no visible wound, nor is there any question of them healing. These blades inflict wounds on the heart, and then these scars are never forgotten; their pain and anguish remain forever.
If we try to untangle the knots of practical politics, the long march was actually a matter of political life and death for the current leadership of the PTI, because the YouTubers and the ‘Omarani Sisters’ were putting intense pressure on them to come out for Imran’s release, or else leave the Chief Ministership and the leadership. From the day Pakistan Tehreek-e-Insaaf started efforts for the movement, the guns of the sisters and YouTubers have gone silent, even though they always have blunt and sweet knives ready at hand. The long march is that charming Chhappan Chhuri which, through its gait, graces, and pressure, wants to prove that it can show some magic.
On the other hand, the government’s blunt knife, “Karachi-wala,” wants to show that magic in which the London and Pakistan factions of the MQM were formed. In the statements of Chief Minister’s spokesperson Shafi Jan, where the government was challenged, the YouTubers were also told in a meaningful manner—while twisting a sweet knife—that they should either come from abroad and lead the long march themselves or send some of the millions of dollars earned in Imran Khan’s name to run the movement. This is a clear indication that signs of rebellion within the party against the use of the sisters by YouTubers are prominent, and now if a single matchstick is lit, the fire will blaze up, and thus PTI’s Pakistani leadership will openly and completely rebel against the narrative, strategy, and criticism given from outside. It remains to be seen whether the party’s division is the very thing with which the government has signaled to silence the Chhappan Chhuri forever using a blunt knife, or if another new pigeon will emerge from the government’s magic hat?
Shakeel Adilzada of Sab Rang wrote a serialized story named “Baazigar” (The Juggler/Gambler). The central character of the story, Babar Zaman Khan, alias “Laadla” (The Pampered One), was an expert in knife-fighting. In that story, it was shown that a vast network of knife-fighters ran a parallel government. The regional hideout of the knife-fighters was called a “Paara”; the leadership of the Paara was given to the one who was most skilled in knife-fighting. Generally, the knife weapon used for competition was called a “Rampuri knife”; its blade was longer than that of a Wazirabadi knife. It seems as though Tazadistan (the land of contradictions) is a large Paara, and instead of knives, its rivals have acquired blades in their hands. Every Babar Zaman Laadla wants to capture the Paara by showing off his blunt knife, sweet knife, or Chhappan Chhuri. On the other hand, Tehreek-e-Insaaf’s internal fight is the same one that arises from despair and frustration within an opposition. As long as a political party is achieving successes, sweet knives are drawn to attain positions; and when failures occur in opposition, internal fights increase out of despair, and both sharp and blunt knives are used against each other. The misfortune is that those apparently walking together are declaring each other party traitors in their absence. Mostly, these fights are not fought out in the open; the battle is fought through conspiracies and rumors. This couplet by my teacher Khurshid Rizvi reflects the internal situation of Tehreek-e-Insaaf:
Jo khuli khuli thi’n adawatein mujhe raas thi’n
Yeh jo zahar-khand salam the mujhe kha gaye
(The open enmities suited me fine;
These venomously-smiling greetings were what consumed me.)
Whether Tehreek-e-Insaaf’s march happens on October 4 or gets postponed, the real question is that the march reaching Islamabad is next to impossible, and even if it does reach, the possibility of Imran’s release is zero. Will the situation change due to this pressure? Apparently, no such possibility is visible. In this fight of knives and blades, the real loss belongs to the common man; if roads are closed, the economy will be ruined even further. It remains to be seen whether the long march will truly be PTI’s last long march, or if any new movement will be able to run from this long march?