The Naaka: made for our security and designed to sabotage, or at least stall, a terrorist attack in some shape or form. I was stopped. At first, I felt violated and harassed, I mean wasn't it torture enough that I had to stand in queue as some moron decides to cut to the front of the line, with a dozen other morons to follow? All this after I crawl through rush-hour traffic with a migraine inched on by the smoke screen created by my boss (no I'm not being poetic, his room is just that, a smoke screen with his frail self playing Puff the Magic Dragon behind it all).
As I was halted at the check post and asked to show identification, the policeman walked past all windows of my car, peering in through the darkness that had set in just after five. With nothing but a dimming flashlight, he directed his all-embracing gaze at my drivers license, then flashed the remnants of the flashlight in my face before he stared at the license once again. Puzzled, he asked for my "digital CNIC" because clearly I was a scam. As I rummaged through my purse, he kept his gaze affixed on me and I felt guilty, for what, I didn't know. Having satisfied himself with indeed both forms of identification, he waved me on with his now-dead-flashlight, asking that I turn down the headlights while driving through a Naaka. Now I do.
It may sound like I'm complaining, which initially was what I was doing. However, I am showing appreciation and calling attention to our daily disturbances. The check post does indeed continue to be the bane of my existence, but seeing the job thoroughly executed, made me grateful to those poor men who stand out in the cold and bear the brunt if all frustrations cast their way. All I ask is that you give the guy a real torch, preferably with batteries that work. Thanks.
Pakistan, paindabad!
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