AstanoshKhan
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A book written by Imran Khan ''Imran Khan Pakistan''.
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PTI | Imran Khan's Political Desk.
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AstanoshKhan
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IK was in Peshawar yesterday, where Ex. City Nazim Town III Mr. Yaseen Khan Khalil joined his party. Bravo...
AstanoshKhan
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The one to his left is Yasin Khan Khalil.
AstanoshKhan
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Omar Cheema , Information Secretary PTI , denied the news about ALLIANCE WITH JAMAT-E-ISLAMI . He further said PTI is not making any alliance at this moment and news aired was a propaganda and has no reality.
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I was really worried, and it worried us all, as it would have been a political disadvantage and not good for PTI independent reputation that it has established among common Pakistanis.
I hope they dont do alliance with JI or any other, and win solo.
AstanoshKhan
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IK is not idiot but the lobbyist are busy (in some sort of propaganda) to make PTI do an alliance with JI in KPK. Let's see how it goes, interesting and tough times are ahead for PTI.
There're speculations that IK is conducting a Jalsa and Mazare Quid in Karachi on 25th December? The speculation comes from AwamiPolitics.com, no official statement from PTI so far.
AstanoshKhan
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Photograph from the Chemical Company tour in China carried out with high ranking Chinese officials
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What Imran Khan Achieved In Lahore And Why
By Dr Moeed Pirzada
Published on Wednesday, November 02, 2011 – Daily Times
Imran Khan did not have the charisma of Zulfikar Ali Bhutto or the oratorical skills of Benazir, but what he had, in his simple straightforward words, was something different
“Bliss was it in that dawn to be alive,
But to be young was very Heaven! O times...”
Is this not how Englishman William Wordsworth had once summed up his feelings about the French Revolution? But forget about the English and the French, and let’s be honest for once, let’s put those pretensions of cold logic and those million cautions aside and let’s admit: is this not how most of us felt when we saw thousands and thousands of young fearless Pakistanis, stretching as far as the eye could see, waving and singing and dancing along with Shehzad Roy and Strings in PTI’s rally in Lahore? You may not like to admit it but let me admit: this is how I felt; tantalising, tingling sensations of love and joy travelled along my spine; there were moments when I uncontrollably laughed and there were moments when I helplessly cried. But these tears rolling down my cheeks were tears of happiness and relief for the whole of my life from pre-school days till now was flashing and dancing in front of me. And for the first time in many many years — I have lost count how many — I felt that we in Pakistan are neither idiots nor zombies and nor some forgotten children of a lesser God with limited imagination but part of the living humanity of this beautiful blue planet and we have hope!
Imran Khan — whom our mentally challenged liberal elite, in their thinly disguised desperation to appease Washington, had often referred to as ‘Taliban Khan’ — now slapped them with a political rally that made all the difference. It had young men, it had beautiful Pakistani women, it had innocent children and it had music. And these men and women and children entered the historic Minar-e-Pakistan not as bonded or captured Kunta Kinte slaves of Alex Haley transported in commandeered and hijacked public transport forcibly seized by the factotums of the Punjabi bureaucracy but walked on their feet, with poise and discipline, as free humanity. Before and after the American Civil War, researchers and the captains of industry found out that free men are more productive than slaves. The electric enthusiasm of these Pakistanis drawn to the message of a cricket captain also made it clear that they were there for they believed in something; perhaps it was their revulsion to sickening corruption, perhaps it was their desire for national self-respect or perhaps they just wanted to break the cancerous inertia of Pakistani politics, but one thing was clear: these baby boomers, children of Pakistan’s demographic dividend, want change.
The primary assumption of Pakistani politics since the 1980s is that the Pakistani public and voters are some sort of pre-Neanderthal idiots; the secondary assumption is that they will always remain so. It is this duo of assumptions around which the politics of ‘notables’ and ‘electables’ is built. A smart, mature, wise Pakistani politician is thus one who firmly believes in this and preaches the opposite. He knows that elections have to be won by managing a system of petty spoils, biradaris (clans), pirs (holy men) and sajada nasheens (hereditary pirs) and that is why thanedars (policemen), patwaris (land record officers), superintendents of police and district officers are so important to him. This is why a typical winning politician has no need to invest in developing any systematic view of public welfare at the national level. And this is why today none of the major parties has any political message, any national narrative, any idea worth appealing to anyone whose IQ is more than 40. In short, since the 1980s Pakistani politics has no defining ideas that can connect almost 200 million people divided across barriers of age, education, awareness, ethnicity and sectarianism.
This is where Imran Khan’s speech at the Minar-e-Pakistan becomes a turning point in Pakistani politics. I could feel that he did not have the charisma of Zulfikar Ali Bhutto or the oratorical skills of Benazir, but what he had, in his simple straightforward words, was something different. He did not spend much time in blasting Nawaz or Zardari, whom he referred to as leaders of the past. Instead, he used his rather brief speech to hint upon a politics of ideas and issues. No doubt abolishing the patwari system or reforming the police are easier said than done, but he has laid the ideas or their seeds on the political table. The absence of usual demagoguery was also remarkable. Pakistani politicians, bereft of overarching ideas, have always gone overboard when they talk of Kashmir, of India, of the US, especially when a pulpit is set in Lahore. But Imran chose his words carefully; no liberation of Kashmir, no befitting responses to India, and no demonisation of the US either. On every issue he said something measured, which made sense and resonated with the demographic dividend spread all around Minar-e-Pakistan and those countless millions who were connected through television screens all across the world like one single organism.
What will happen? Electoral politics does not change overnight. For the PTI and Imran Khan, and Pakistan’s baby boomers, there is many a slip twixt the cup and the lip. And they have lots of genuine learning to do. The Lahore power play was an effective demonstration of the innate appeal of their message, their ability of strategic communication and their administrative skills, but much more is needed, for the task to rid Pakistan of the politics of non-sense is humungous. Those piranhas of Pakistani politics whose teeth are deep into the flesh of the Pakistani people and their pockets will engineer anything conceivable under the sun to woo their vote banks to maintain their stranglehold on Pakistani politics and the economy and this moment in Lahore has shown them the ‘nightmare trailer’ that will now kickstart a new behind-the-scenes campaign to contain Imran Khan and his demographic dividend.
But one thing is certain: politics will change. The PPP may be able to manoeuvre and shield its safe vote banks in interior Sindh and the Seraiki belt from this new wave in politics but what about the PML-N? Whether Nawaz and Shahbaz have realised it or not, after this PTI power play in Lahore, PMN-L stalwarts are standing in a Turkish hamaam (steam bath) without towels. For three years they had chosen careful rhetoric to painstakingly build an identity around anti-Zardari sloganeering, against corruption and for hyper-nationalism, but the practical demands of politics and repeated compromises drained all credibility from their strategic communications and now a new untainted entity has emerged representing all what they had stood for. Today the PML-N leadership stands upon a dead heap of old loyalties and expectations of the spoils, but in weeks and months the emerging sense of change will trickle down across the Punjabi towns. Shahbaz Sharif’s recent mantras of Habib Jalib and his inability to understand that he does not fit into Jalib’s revolutionary context only showed how seriously disconnected they have been from the emerging reality around them. It is time for Pakistani politics to pause, readjust and reinvent itself. This is what Imran Khan and his followers have achieved in Lahore.
The writer is a political analyst and a TV anchorperson. He can be reached at director@media-policy.com
What Imran Khan Achieved In Lahore And Why - Dr Moeed Pirzada > Pakistan Tehreek-e-Insaf > Insaf Blog
---------- Post added at 11:36 AM ---------- Previous post was at 11:33 AM ----------
I, Pakistan
For those few hours, I felt my ethnic, provincial, and even professional identity being subsumed by my national one. It felt good to be a Pakistani
You just had to be there. I was. And I stood there, on top of the 16 foot container, and looked at the sea of people shouting, clapping, laughing, dancing and waving flags.
It was mesmerising. It was electrifying.
They came in waves, and kept on coming. Men, women, teenagers, children, families, almost every demographic one can think of. They were all there. And they were pumped up. Seriously pumped up. A teeming multitude that blended into one massive, pulsating kilometre of synchronised humanity. As daylight morphed into twilight, then dissolved into brightly illuminated darkness, Minto Park ignited into a maelstrom of deafening roars, thunderous drumbeats and booming motivational music.
The air was infectious, the mood contagious. The atmosphere was surreal — and political. This was like no other jalsa. And it has shaken Pakistani politics, and politicians, to the core.
Today Imran Khan elicits sniggers no more. Those five hours on October 30th in the city of Lahore, under the shadow of the Minar-e-Pakistan, have transformed the struggling dreamer into a political rock star. He is the man to beat, because suddenly he is driving the national political narrative.
“But wait,” say traditional politicians, “this was a good jalsa, but it was just that, a jalsa. It is not like he has won the election.”
True. There is a long, snaky and tortuous road ahead for Khan and his Under-19 team. What he pulled off that night was remarkable. But sometimes remarkable is not good enough. Imran may rise and rise from here on, or he may crash and burn at the hustings, slain by the cruel sword of constituency power politics, rooted in kinship and patronage. Predicting outcomes would be a waste of space.
Which is why analysing the Lahore rally in terms of eventual political outcomes would be to misread what exactly happened there that evening. What I saw, and what I felt, went deeper than that. And it epitomised something that is bigger than Imran Khan, bigger than his party, and bigger than all the politicians and their agendas put together.
On that cool and balmy Lahore evening, standing atop that container, I imagined a future draped in colours of hope.
No, this hope was not borne of partisanship, or political loyalty, or even an after-effect of the right words spoken the right way. This hope, perhaps, was an amalgam of a kaleidoscope of emotions, visible in the form of a collective yearning. A yearning for a better life; for justice; for peace and for a society in which every man, woman and child enjoys equal opportunity. A yearning for equality before law and an end to exploitation. A yearning for dignity, for tolerance, and for the protection of the weak.
For those few hours, I felt my ethnic, provincial, and even professional identity being subsumed by my national one. All my internal conflicts, contradictions, acrimony, cynicism, sarcasm, antagonism, despondency, bitterness and rancour seemed to melt away, and I experienced a warm glow as happy emotions welled up.
It felt good to be a Pakistani.
Can you imagine this feeling? Every living moment, we Pakistanis are bombarded with negativity. Terrorism, nepotism, corruption, injustice, exploitation, bigotry, intolerance, topped off by the devastating effects of a collapsing economy. In Quaid’s country, life has been, and is, nasty. Wherever we go, the world pours scorn on us, and the green passport sparks off red alerts. We crib, we moan and we indulge in self-loathing. We envy India, we hate the US and we grovel in front of the Saudis. As a result, we are made to feel like we have no self-respect.
This hurts. It feels bad. We feel angry, bitter, vengeful, and generally negative.
But not that evening in Lahore. That day we felt good. I felt good. Tens of thousands of fellow Pakistanis, together under one huge green and white flag, dreaming of a better tomorrow, as Strings belted out emotional lyrics about a Pakistan where “roti hogi sasti, aur mehangi hogi jaan” (bread will be cheap, but not life). I saw Pakistanis crying as they waved flags, swayed to the tunes and yearned for a shore that glimmers on the horizon. They cried for the broken promises, for lives ruined and for a future that their kids deserve but may not get. But they also laughed, danced and screamed because they felt one, bound together by a failed past, and a hopeful future.
This was beyond politics. This was nationalism not seen outside cricket stadiums. This was about being Pakistanis, pure and simple. I, Pakistani. Nothing else mattered. This was a resounding message for all those who say Pakistan is a failed state. That evening, Pakistan the concept, was right there in front of the whole world, living, breathing and screaming.
Yes we are. Yes we can.
All Imran Khan can do is channelise this emotion. He did not create it. He did not even fan it. All he did was dust it off the shelf and assemble it. It does not belong to him. It certainly does not belong to the traditional political parties. This raw Pakistaniat, if it gains momentum, will drive politics, not be driven by it. Asif Zardari and Nawaz Sharif can only ignore it at their own peril.
The rally is over but its hangover hovers in the air. Soon it too will dissipate. Politics may soon flow back into its old biradari (clan), thaana/katchery (police station/courts) patronage grooves. Imran may become a victim of his own idealism as traditional power structures squeeze him like an enraged python.
But that flash of emotion I felt for a few hours that evening, standing atop a container in Lahore’s Minto Park, will keep burning a small but intense flame inside of me, a reminder that there is a dream called Pakistan.
And it is still very much alive.
The writer hosts a primetime show on a private TV channel. He can be reached at fahd.husain1@gmail.com
By Dr Moeed Pirzada
Published on Wednesday, November 02, 2011 – Daily Times
Imran Khan did not have the charisma of Zulfikar Ali Bhutto or the oratorical skills of Benazir, but what he had, in his simple straightforward words, was something different
“Bliss was it in that dawn to be alive,
But to be young was very Heaven! O times...”
Is this not how Englishman William Wordsworth had once summed up his feelings about the French Revolution? But forget about the English and the French, and let’s be honest for once, let’s put those pretensions of cold logic and those million cautions aside and let’s admit: is this not how most of us felt when we saw thousands and thousands of young fearless Pakistanis, stretching as far as the eye could see, waving and singing and dancing along with Shehzad Roy and Strings in PTI’s rally in Lahore? You may not like to admit it but let me admit: this is how I felt; tantalising, tingling sensations of love and joy travelled along my spine; there were moments when I uncontrollably laughed and there were moments when I helplessly cried. But these tears rolling down my cheeks were tears of happiness and relief for the whole of my life from pre-school days till now was flashing and dancing in front of me. And for the first time in many many years — I have lost count how many — I felt that we in Pakistan are neither idiots nor zombies and nor some forgotten children of a lesser God with limited imagination but part of the living humanity of this beautiful blue planet and we have hope!
Imran Khan — whom our mentally challenged liberal elite, in their thinly disguised desperation to appease Washington, had often referred to as ‘Taliban Khan’ — now slapped them with a political rally that made all the difference. It had young men, it had beautiful Pakistani women, it had innocent children and it had music. And these men and women and children entered the historic Minar-e-Pakistan not as bonded or captured Kunta Kinte slaves of Alex Haley transported in commandeered and hijacked public transport forcibly seized by the factotums of the Punjabi bureaucracy but walked on their feet, with poise and discipline, as free humanity. Before and after the American Civil War, researchers and the captains of industry found out that free men are more productive than slaves. The electric enthusiasm of these Pakistanis drawn to the message of a cricket captain also made it clear that they were there for they believed in something; perhaps it was their revulsion to sickening corruption, perhaps it was their desire for national self-respect or perhaps they just wanted to break the cancerous inertia of Pakistani politics, but one thing was clear: these baby boomers, children of Pakistan’s demographic dividend, want change.
The primary assumption of Pakistani politics since the 1980s is that the Pakistani public and voters are some sort of pre-Neanderthal idiots; the secondary assumption is that they will always remain so. It is this duo of assumptions around which the politics of ‘notables’ and ‘electables’ is built. A smart, mature, wise Pakistani politician is thus one who firmly believes in this and preaches the opposite. He knows that elections have to be won by managing a system of petty spoils, biradaris (clans), pirs (holy men) and sajada nasheens (hereditary pirs) and that is why thanedars (policemen), patwaris (land record officers), superintendents of police and district officers are so important to him. This is why a typical winning politician has no need to invest in developing any systematic view of public welfare at the national level. And this is why today none of the major parties has any political message, any national narrative, any idea worth appealing to anyone whose IQ is more than 40. In short, since the 1980s Pakistani politics has no defining ideas that can connect almost 200 million people divided across barriers of age, education, awareness, ethnicity and sectarianism.
This is where Imran Khan’s speech at the Minar-e-Pakistan becomes a turning point in Pakistani politics. I could feel that he did not have the charisma of Zulfikar Ali Bhutto or the oratorical skills of Benazir, but what he had, in his simple straightforward words, was something different. He did not spend much time in blasting Nawaz or Zardari, whom he referred to as leaders of the past. Instead, he used his rather brief speech to hint upon a politics of ideas and issues. No doubt abolishing the patwari system or reforming the police are easier said than done, but he has laid the ideas or their seeds on the political table. The absence of usual demagoguery was also remarkable. Pakistani politicians, bereft of overarching ideas, have always gone overboard when they talk of Kashmir, of India, of the US, especially when a pulpit is set in Lahore. But Imran chose his words carefully; no liberation of Kashmir, no befitting responses to India, and no demonisation of the US either. On every issue he said something measured, which made sense and resonated with the demographic dividend spread all around Minar-e-Pakistan and those countless millions who were connected through television screens all across the world like one single organism.
What will happen? Electoral politics does not change overnight. For the PTI and Imran Khan, and Pakistan’s baby boomers, there is many a slip twixt the cup and the lip. And they have lots of genuine learning to do. The Lahore power play was an effective demonstration of the innate appeal of their message, their ability of strategic communication and their administrative skills, but much more is needed, for the task to rid Pakistan of the politics of non-sense is humungous. Those piranhas of Pakistani politics whose teeth are deep into the flesh of the Pakistani people and their pockets will engineer anything conceivable under the sun to woo their vote banks to maintain their stranglehold on Pakistani politics and the economy and this moment in Lahore has shown them the ‘nightmare trailer’ that will now kickstart a new behind-the-scenes campaign to contain Imran Khan and his demographic dividend.
But one thing is certain: politics will change. The PPP may be able to manoeuvre and shield its safe vote banks in interior Sindh and the Seraiki belt from this new wave in politics but what about the PML-N? Whether Nawaz and Shahbaz have realised it or not, after this PTI power play in Lahore, PMN-L stalwarts are standing in a Turkish hamaam (steam bath) without towels. For three years they had chosen careful rhetoric to painstakingly build an identity around anti-Zardari sloganeering, against corruption and for hyper-nationalism, but the practical demands of politics and repeated compromises drained all credibility from their strategic communications and now a new untainted entity has emerged representing all what they had stood for. Today the PML-N leadership stands upon a dead heap of old loyalties and expectations of the spoils, but in weeks and months the emerging sense of change will trickle down across the Punjabi towns. Shahbaz Sharif’s recent mantras of Habib Jalib and his inability to understand that he does not fit into Jalib’s revolutionary context only showed how seriously disconnected they have been from the emerging reality around them. It is time for Pakistani politics to pause, readjust and reinvent itself. This is what Imran Khan and his followers have achieved in Lahore.
The writer is a political analyst and a TV anchorperson. He can be reached at director@media-policy.com
What Imran Khan Achieved In Lahore And Why - Dr Moeed Pirzada > Pakistan Tehreek-e-Insaf > Insaf Blog
---------- Post added at 11:36 AM ---------- Previous post was at 11:33 AM ----------
I, Pakistan
For those few hours, I felt my ethnic, provincial, and even professional identity being subsumed by my national one. It felt good to be a Pakistani
You just had to be there. I was. And I stood there, on top of the 16 foot container, and looked at the sea of people shouting, clapping, laughing, dancing and waving flags.
It was mesmerising. It was electrifying.
They came in waves, and kept on coming. Men, women, teenagers, children, families, almost every demographic one can think of. They were all there. And they were pumped up. Seriously pumped up. A teeming multitude that blended into one massive, pulsating kilometre of synchronised humanity. As daylight morphed into twilight, then dissolved into brightly illuminated darkness, Minto Park ignited into a maelstrom of deafening roars, thunderous drumbeats and booming motivational music.
The air was infectious, the mood contagious. The atmosphere was surreal — and political. This was like no other jalsa. And it has shaken Pakistani politics, and politicians, to the core.
Today Imran Khan elicits sniggers no more. Those five hours on October 30th in the city of Lahore, under the shadow of the Minar-e-Pakistan, have transformed the struggling dreamer into a political rock star. He is the man to beat, because suddenly he is driving the national political narrative.
“But wait,” say traditional politicians, “this was a good jalsa, but it was just that, a jalsa. It is not like he has won the election.”
True. There is a long, snaky and tortuous road ahead for Khan and his Under-19 team. What he pulled off that night was remarkable. But sometimes remarkable is not good enough. Imran may rise and rise from here on, or he may crash and burn at the hustings, slain by the cruel sword of constituency power politics, rooted in kinship and patronage. Predicting outcomes would be a waste of space.
Which is why analysing the Lahore rally in terms of eventual political outcomes would be to misread what exactly happened there that evening. What I saw, and what I felt, went deeper than that. And it epitomised something that is bigger than Imran Khan, bigger than his party, and bigger than all the politicians and their agendas put together.
On that cool and balmy Lahore evening, standing atop that container, I imagined a future draped in colours of hope.
No, this hope was not borne of partisanship, or political loyalty, or even an after-effect of the right words spoken the right way. This hope, perhaps, was an amalgam of a kaleidoscope of emotions, visible in the form of a collective yearning. A yearning for a better life; for justice; for peace and for a society in which every man, woman and child enjoys equal opportunity. A yearning for equality before law and an end to exploitation. A yearning for dignity, for tolerance, and for the protection of the weak.
For those few hours, I felt my ethnic, provincial, and even professional identity being subsumed by my national one. All my internal conflicts, contradictions, acrimony, cynicism, sarcasm, antagonism, despondency, bitterness and rancour seemed to melt away, and I experienced a warm glow as happy emotions welled up.
It felt good to be a Pakistani.
Can you imagine this feeling? Every living moment, we Pakistanis are bombarded with negativity. Terrorism, nepotism, corruption, injustice, exploitation, bigotry, intolerance, topped off by the devastating effects of a collapsing economy. In Quaid’s country, life has been, and is, nasty. Wherever we go, the world pours scorn on us, and the green passport sparks off red alerts. We crib, we moan and we indulge in self-loathing. We envy India, we hate the US and we grovel in front of the Saudis. As a result, we are made to feel like we have no self-respect.
This hurts. It feels bad. We feel angry, bitter, vengeful, and generally negative.
But not that evening in Lahore. That day we felt good. I felt good. Tens of thousands of fellow Pakistanis, together under one huge green and white flag, dreaming of a better tomorrow, as Strings belted out emotional lyrics about a Pakistan where “roti hogi sasti, aur mehangi hogi jaan” (bread will be cheap, but not life). I saw Pakistanis crying as they waved flags, swayed to the tunes and yearned for a shore that glimmers on the horizon. They cried for the broken promises, for lives ruined and for a future that their kids deserve but may not get. But they also laughed, danced and screamed because they felt one, bound together by a failed past, and a hopeful future.
This was beyond politics. This was nationalism not seen outside cricket stadiums. This was about being Pakistanis, pure and simple. I, Pakistani. Nothing else mattered. This was a resounding message for all those who say Pakistan is a failed state. That evening, Pakistan the concept, was right there in front of the whole world, living, breathing and screaming.
Yes we are. Yes we can.
All Imran Khan can do is channelise this emotion. He did not create it. He did not even fan it. All he did was dust it off the shelf and assemble it. It does not belong to him. It certainly does not belong to the traditional political parties. This raw Pakistaniat, if it gains momentum, will drive politics, not be driven by it. Asif Zardari and Nawaz Sharif can only ignore it at their own peril.
The rally is over but its hangover hovers in the air. Soon it too will dissipate. Politics may soon flow back into its old biradari (clan), thaana/katchery (police station/courts) patronage grooves. Imran may become a victim of his own idealism as traditional power structures squeeze him like an enraged python.
But that flash of emotion I felt for a few hours that evening, standing atop a container in Lahore’s Minto Park, will keep burning a small but intense flame inside of me, a reminder that there is a dream called Pakistan.
And it is still very much alive.
The writer hosts a primetime show on a private TV channel. He can be reached at fahd.husain1@gmail.com
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