Whenever I pick up a newspaper with the intention of gaining knowledge, I am often disappointed by the sad reality that appears. This reality speaks of a world that is deeply split, not only by geographical borders, but by the different ways of living people are forced to adapt to. While one child gets ready for school, another child simply tries to get through each day.
For instance, while a fortunate child from Lahore Grammar School or Aitchison pays over 70,000 PKR every month for fees, an impoverished child sits on the pavement outside a shaky shelter, watching the world pass by with a pair of small dove-like eyes. Research conducted by Punjab University shows that around 10,000 street children wander the streets of Lahore alone, leaving out the children in other cities. These statistics are truly frightening.
That is why I think of Nazia, our fifty-four-year-old housemaid, every time I read such headlines. To me, Nazia represents the image we call poverty. If I look closely at Nazia, all I see is a worn-out face with a fungal infection on a nail that Nazia seems afraid to treat, and tired feet that carry a load no one would willingly want to bear.
Jaun Elia, the great Sufi poet of Sindh, once wrote,
” Woh mera khayal thi so woh thi, mein uska khayal tha so tha. Magar ab dono khayal mar chuke hain “
which roughly translates to
” She was a thought of mine, so she was. I was a thought of hers, so I was. But now, both thoughts are dead “
Perhaps Nazia was once a living thought drifting in the air with hopes and dreams. Poverty choked Nazia and buried Nazia deep inside her bones, turning Nazia into a person defined by wrinkles and tired feet.
Nazia has four children, and three of those children are still alive and stay with Nazia in the dimly lit room Nazia calls home or rather a shelter. Three years ago, Nazia’s youngest son Daniyal contracted an infection that later turned into pneumonia. In a country where private hospitals exist everywhere, a pneumonia case should be routine. The difference for Daniyal was the lack of money that kept Daniyal from receiving an antibiotic dose that could have saved the life of Daniyal. Daniyal died in the government hospital, where Nazia was denied admission because of the huge initial deposit demanded by the administration. Nazia waited for hours in an alley nearby, holding the feverish hand of Daniyal as the last breath of Daniyal slipped away, leaving behind a void in the broken heart of Nazia that will only heal when Nazia meets Daniyal again.
The other children of Nazia also show the wounds of poverty. The eldest son of Nazia, Imran Shahid , stopped attending school at the young age of eight to work as a local mechanic and earned a small amount that barely kept the family alive. The younger daughter of Nazia, Maryam Bibi worked in the kitchens of local people, helping Nazia earn enough for two meals a day. The youngest child of Nazia, Noor Zainab, wanted to go to school, but poverty asked her to wait for another year .
Each day, the life of Nazia is an equation balancing the rising cost of wheat flour and cooking oil against the next medical bill the family cannot pay.
The divide between Pakistanis grows worse because the rich want to keep the poor as far away as possible.
To do this, the rich go out of their way to choose roads that do not go through the katchi abadis that spread across the city. When the rich reach a traffic signal, the rich lower tinted windows, fasten seatbelts, and navigate through backstreets using navigation systems. The rich do this so that the rich do not have to see the sight of the poor, whose torn clothes cling to bodies like old gateposts of crumbling huts.
Seeing the sad faces of poor children begging for money makes the rich feel obligated to donate, but the rich give only a small amount compared to what the rich can afford. Poverty is treated like a bad smell, a visual nuisance that the rich avoid at all costs. By staying away from the poor, the rich turn distance into contempt, believing that the problems of the poor are not real problems until those problems affect the rich directly.
This divide reaches into every part of life, including major events such as weddings. In South Asian culture, weddings are massive events, and a daughter’s wedding is a celebration that lasts for weeks. Nazia, on the other hand, spends evenings worrying about the day when the eldest daughter of Nazia, Ayesha, will marry.
Although the family of the groom was relatively better off, the low wages of Nazia made it hard for Nazia to buy a bridal dress and gifts for the wedding. Nazia spent long nights thinking about local money lenders willing to give a loan at extortionate rates, which would keep the family of Nazia in debt for many years. Nazia did not know that fate had something better in store.
All these worries disappeared when my mother, seeing the distress of Nazia, gave Nazia a bridal dress that my mother had worn at her own wedding twenty-five years ago. The dress was a red color with golden zardosi embroidery that had been kept in a closet for decades.
The compassion of my mother was boundless as my mother handed this treasure to Ayesha.
According to the government, the poverty line in Pakistan is about 8,483 PKR per month and thirty-six percent of rural Pakistanis and forty-seven percent of the residents of Balochistan living below this very low level. These numbers fail to show us the true daily reality .For example,there are 34 katchi abadis in my neighbourhood alone .
When driving around Lahore, one is actually bound to see a wide gap between the rich and the poor people .Along the modern streets of Defence and Johar Town are landscaped gardens, upscale coffee shops, and other various expensive eateries. On the other hand, poor people live hand to hand .
To sum it all up ,while the rich enjoy comforts like generators and solar panels that keep blackouts and misery away, the poor people live in single rooms with no central air conditioning, waiting in long lines at public water filtration plants hoping to receive government assistance .
The dividing line between the rich and the poor people actually surpasses money; it also hurts the basic human sentiments.
For example, I once saw a woman whose body looked very thin walking on a street in Gulberg wearing only rags, with signs of drug addiction and mental collapse all over her. The woman was a living example of pain and mockery ,she moved in motion that actually broke my heart .
What shocked me most was the reaction of the people around the woman. The elite who sat at fancy and high end cafes at Johar Town had stopped to stare at the woman, while drivers tried capturing her sensitive pictures on their mobiles and cursed at the woman, humiliating the woman instead of helping the lady in need .
Some people pulled out cell phones and filmed the woman. Instead of giving the woman a cloth to clean the dirt or calling an ambulance, the people shouted at the woman, treating the woman like a show for entertainment.
When I saw this, a wave of grief and anger went through me. I was furious at the arrogant behavior of the rich toward the poor. The rich saw the woman as an annoyance, and the suffering of the woman was beyond their understanding.
Poverty made this woman invisible to everyone around her. I could not stand to watch any longer; I had to act and show a bit of kindness in a sea of people who had money but no desire to help.
I tried going upto the woman and tried my best to ask the woman, all while trying to assure her to come with me in my car .
That way, I could give the woman a sense of basic dignity that is actually a basic fundamental right of every citizen of this country .
The divide between classes is very wide, but we can bridge this divide. Let us look past the tinted windows of our cars and see the humanity in the poor, so that future generations will not see such terrible events again.
As tolerating such behavior is actually demeaning to oneself as well as to others from all walks of life .
Social classism is a societal stigma that has actually become one of the major problems of the country as well .
Judging people based on their clothes or cars or their purchasing power can lead to problems like depression and anxiety in the one person who is going through all this judgement all in the name of good classism .
To sum it all up,people who try to indulge in debates or arguments on class differences or even judge people based on them are accomplices of those who are in the wrong.
By: Zainab Ali
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