The Silent Heroine

Heroine no more?

At a point in time when the world seemed bleak and plagued with cowardice and injustice, Aung Suu Kyi showed me that heroes still exist, even in the 21^st century. But the woman whom I see as an emblem of peaceful resistance, the harbinger of solidarity, the savior of the oppressed, Burma’s Nelson Mandela, has disappointed many due to her silence over the Rohingya ethnic violence. And one can do little but wonder- why?

After more than a decade of inconsistent house arrests and persecution, Aung Suu Kyi stood in parliament for the first time in April 2012. In a historic speech on 25^th July, she stressed on equal rights for all ethnicities and how that is pivotal to the materialization of a “truly democratic union”. Ironically, as the woman addressed rows and rows of politicians in the flamboyantly royal parliament house, ethnic strife continued to bubble between religious groups in Western Burma.

Despite escalating tensions in the region, Aung Suu Kyi has been avoiding the issue of the Rohingya Muslims for long.

The national reaction to the Rohingya killings has been shocking- the media has fuelled and supported the expulsion of Muslims from the country, the apparently peaceful monks have called for suspension of humanitarian aid to the Rohingya community and even the President has asked for a ridiculous resettlement of over 1 million Muslims to a third country.

Every segment of Burmese society, from the lowest ranks to its echelons, seems to be bathed in a shroud of extreme nationalism- or xenophobic jingoism- which has sparked a hateful disapproval of non-Burmese (and some would say, non-Mongoloid) races. The origins of this prejudice go back to the ruler Ne Win, who denied citizenship rights to the Rohingya and practically brainwashed the population into a paranoid sense of cultural superiority.

Aung Suu Kyi is a nascent leader in a highly unstable, transitional democracy, so she might have reservations over addressing such an emotionally intense issue directly. Defying what seems to be the common mindset in the country could not only damage her image but also prove to be catastrophic for her party in the 2015 elections.

Secondly, it is important to remember that it has only been a year since Kyi has been granted political freedom and just 5 months since she first stepped into the Parliament. The President is still closely associated with the military junta-which dominates the parliament- and it is hard to assess how far the new leadership will pursue democratic reform. Moreover, the President still feels threatened by the media magnet, Aung Suu Kyi.

Consequently, absolute political power still lies in the hands of the general-turned-president and his military. The quasi-civilian government has also sought to keep Kyi away from ethnic politics and even barred her from the initial discussions about amnesty, with various ethnic groups. Any outspoken condemnation of the Rohingya killings could seriously sabotage Aung Suu Kyi’s relationship with the current leadership and thereby her chances of playing an active role in national reconciliation.

But it’s not all gloom and doom. The reasons above seek to explain, and possibly justify Suu Kyi’s silence over the matter. Being a staunch admirer of the lady, I believe there is still a reason for optimism.

Aung Suu Kyi is a national icon and a global celebrity. Many Burmese worship her as the instigator of a new era of stability in their troubled homeland. The moment she steps out of her house, dozens throng around her as if she’s performing a magic show. I firmly believe that if she chooses to speak out against the ethnic violence, she will garner a lot of support and greatly influence public opinion of the Rohingya community, regardless of their historical grievances. As for her clash with the military, a woman who has so fearlessly questioned the military in the past will not be afraid to do it again. The woman still stands strong despite handling a multitude of hardships in the past- years of house arrest, her inability to meet her dying husband and son due to her activism and the brutal attack on her in 2003. Indeed, she has always stood for the subjugated, and the Rohingya Muslims are no exception (hopefully).

Will the peacock, a symbol of resurrection and renewal mark a new era for the
minorities of Burma?

Aung Suu Kyi is an opportunist. She will wait for the right opportunity and act against such violence, for she is the daughter of Aung San, a man whose vision was a united and compassionate Burma. But can she beat the odds and fulfill her father’s noble dream? Or will her actions be too late to prevent the irreversible damage? Only time will tell.

Trafficophobia

Bedazzled? Try standing in the middle
of that road.

If you’ve ever seen the roads of Karachi at night, it does live up to its reputation as the City of Lights. The lines of glimmering, yellow street lights, the glowing windows of towering buildings and the roads- the roads with the endless array of shiny cars speeding across the landscape all create this unique ambiance of subtlety. I spewed in every piece of my vocabulary to plant that image into your mind because it is truly a spectacle to behold, if you look at it from the car window. But if you’re a desperate pedestrian trying to cross those cars raging across the road at blinding, bullet-fast speeds- not so much.

It was only a few weeks ago that I realized that I had serious ‘trafficophobia’. Since then, I try me best to avoid crossing roads, even if it means taking the longest routes, the most desperate rides, or the shadiest shortcuts. I believe the origins of this fear can be traced back to my childhood when my dad used to carry me in his arms while we crossed those ferociously fast cars. It used to be enjoyable at that point in time- all I had to do is cuddle up and grab my dad tightly. I used to close my eyes and wait while my dad hastily crossed the road- I remember hearing the blaring horns, and the shiny headlights that flickered across my closed eyes. I treated it as an amusement ride, failing to realize the patience and caution needed for the task.

This habit lived on, and even when I grew up, I would ask my father to carry me across, even though I was capable enough to walk by his side. He would hesitate but carry me anyway, feeling that it would be safer. But as I grew up, I became taller, older and heavier. It was then that my mother drew the line and told my dad to stop complying so willingly to these pesky requests and make me a bit more independent. We both obeyed reluctantly- after all, arguing with mom was equivalent to provoking an endless tattler.

I feel like this on the road.

Clearly, mom’s strategy didn’t exactly work out. My hesitation to cross roads myself has spiraled into this fanciful, irrational road-phobia. I have been forced to cross roads at times though and I have failed miserably every time. My friends often laugh at my apparent inability to cross roads and how frequently I’ve put myself in the brink of road accidents. It is pretty funny though, if you look at from their perspective. But imagine your nose at an inch’s distance from the cold, metallic surface of a high-roof car. Imagine intercepting a speeding car in the middle of the road, which suddenly stops with an echoing screech. It stuns the entire body for a moment, and you look ahead at what just happened, while the car driver drives away, abusing and screaming at you at the same time. You feel angry at yourself for your hastiness, your indecision, your recklessness and your lack of judgment. But after all this, you feel a blissful sense of relief, as you realize the potential consequences of being hit by that car.

Even today, I dream about being tossed around or being run over by large, flashing vehicles. The roads still confuse me- I try to cross them and then suddenly return to the footpath again. If I intercept a car, I go ahead but then, I move back again, soon realizing that I’m actually oscillating on a road with many impatient, careless drivers. It actually seems amusing if you picture it. Oh, and there's an actual word for it- agyrophobia, or something? I'll stick with my own word.

I won’t give you a melodramatic story about how I overcame this fear, because I haven’t. But as sad as this post seems, it wasn’t supposed to be. Why?

I have a car and I aint afraid to use it, bitches. :D