Before that you or other readers jump into Marxism, something needs to be pretty cleared. Do not be a Pakistani Marxist, be a German Marxist! As Pakistani Marxists seek attention of naive students by throwing unknown terms and theories to catch the butterfly, but on the other hand, German Marxists solve the ground work by being involved in a pragmatical world. They do hand on activities. They love dialectics, not discussion!
And far as I am concerned, I have stories and questions to manipulate the scenario, not theories or nomenclatures to catch the butterflies (The word ‘butterfly’ is a metaphor used here to implicate beautiful girls and boys, particularly under intermediate)!
Here it goes like this. . .
Don’t they dream or they are reluctant to tell their dreams? Whether they are afraid to share their dreams in sense that the landlords or gods of some sort trample on their dreams! Or they may snatch their right to live! Or shouldn’t they become an obstacle to breathe!
One day I asked those whom the landlords or the elderly people call their slaves_ those who also work in our homes_ that is why I often ask this question_ “What will you become when you grow up or what dream do you want to fulfill?”
They raise their heads and look at me in such a way that I cannot meet their eyes. I thought I might have asked them something wrong. And they bow their heads in shame.
I asked them again, “Do you have any dream? I mean like, do you want to become something someday?”
And don’t, I mean, educate yourselves! They just smiled at me but did not say anything!
I quietly nodded and left!
And one day again I asked, “Tell me, what will you become when educated?”
That was the question that bothered me the most. I needed an answer to this question. I had to do something to get this question answered.
Then they said with great ease, “We will work when we grow up, as we are working now, and we will always work like this.”
I was shocked and there were tears in my eyes. “Don’t they have dreams?” I exclaimed with a sigh and tried getting calmed, could not handle though.
I did not find peace and contentment in their response. It was an answer of no human instinct.
Someday, I went to my mother and sat down and asked her. “Mom, have black people been enslaved by Allah Almighty, forever?
“No honey.” responds my mom. “They are not our slaves. Look at Obama. He is also black, but he is a king, not a slave. And there are a lot of people who are black but no one is a slave.”
I left quietly again and just wondered that Balochistan’s black people are slaves. Don’t they have dreams?
Or are they afraid to dream? Don’t they have the right to live? Are they just here to benefit others?
Aren’t the ones working for us among us? Don’t they get tired of the work they do? Or don’t they get irritated of our rude and cruel behaviour? Is our society doing right with them?
In situation like the COVID19, no servant comes to work in our houses. We are working ourselves. Are we dying by working ourselves?
They should be educated instead of working ruthlessly. Cannot we do anything to improve a life or two? Are we ashamed to talk to them about this distinction? Aren’t they human? Is not their God and our God same? Don’t they have the right to live like us??? “Don’t they dream?”
It needs immediate contemplation! Every life matters.