By Anas Khan.
The world of today seems to be a replicate of the past. Today the advertisement of material has taken the world by storm and the trend gets acceleration with the inevitable fact that this net has circulated each one of us. As human evolved, the ways of replication also got pace as nothing is there which might have escaped from being crafted out from its original face. For instance the way a lady has to apply the layers of colours on her face.
“she doesn’t know that everything is on sale in the city, the faces, the shades and even the beauty”
Yet, far from this world, there exist valleys. One of the valleys is named as Fairyland which stands for Kelash. Their world is centuries back in contrast to the cities we live in. Hence, their society is to be the world that we leave behind. Their today is ought to be our yesterday. Our instincts, our inner voices and our faces are kept alive by those valleys. Because our faces today are curtained by the colours, that are to be bought in the bazaars of Delhi or Lahore. Those colors are used to fade away the real faces and are to be found in the beauty-saloons of Karachi or Mumbai. But a girl of the Fairyland has not learnt that those colours are the replication of the colour she possesses. She doesn’t know that everything is on sale in the city, the faces, the shades and even the beauty. The cut-paste culture has enveloped the sapiens in the way as snail mail.
“the Kalashi girl is dancing in the breeze while jumping in the fields. She sings a local tappa glorifying the city and yet she knows nothing that town is on sale”
Her face is mesmerizing the dark mountains of Chitral and is lightning the dress she is wearing while her teenage is as drunkard as her vivid eyes. The Kalashi fairy on the onset of evening looks towards the city and think of the day when she would be setting in a beauty-parlor and asking for a shade to be enveloped on her face. Yet, that would not be the face, she possesses but that is the curtain for sale. The Kalashi girl is dancing in the breeze while jumping in the fields. She sings a local tappa glorifying the city. Yet, she knows nothing that town is on the sale, the shades are unreal, the faces ought to be faked and the city has having layers on sale for the masses’ faces. Yet she might lack the make-up sets, her home might lack the light she had seen in the city whilst she has no lockers filled with colored clothes and she lacks the fluency to speak the language of Paris and London. She has her own distinct culture and not the replicated culture of England. But she has no clue that the culture that dances in Lahore is a lie, that the language spoken there is copied while the hypocrisy running in the blood is learnt.
Alas! She knows nothing but the colours and the beauty parlors. She thinks if she could fly off to the city but she knows nothing that city is where thoughts are the roads made up of charcoal and are sold out, where friendship is to be treated as a rainbow of the sky, where family is treated in a net of selfishness and where beloved is of the layers of a make-up set. Where faith is on the sale, where films and faces are to be sold out by a note of five-hundred rupees. Despite that the city is on the sale, the fairy is obsessed to go there and to have the shades on her face. Alas! She doesn’t know that city is amassed of hypocrisy, the face bought through the cash and the colors that are to be applied by the ladies are not theirs.
Anas Khan is learning International Relations at National Defence University, Islamabad. He bears keen interest in geopolitics, diplomacy and Afghan war. He has been working on the project, “Towards Jinnah’s Pakistan”.