Are you better than me?

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You make fun of me because I have many Gods, some in forms of animals.
You have one divine God without a face and yet you all have nothing but hatred for each other.

 

You tease me for I revere the cow and call me disgusting that I (few) drink its urine.

You hide it that you drink camel’s urine and even wash your hair with it.

 

You mock the statue of my God in my car.

You have a big Allah sign with diamantes hanging from your car’s rear mirror which dances to the loud music blaring from your radio.

 

You badger me that I don’t eat meat, how physically weak  and ‘unmacho’ that makes me.

You slice the necks of your helpless animals, making death slow and painful and hang them to drain the blood in the name of purification. Macho?

 

You say you are tolerant and accepting of everyone.

You don’t even let your shia daughter marry a sunni man.

 

You say I don’t belong in your country and should’ve have stayed in the country next door.

You, your grandparents and your ancestors are from that country. You watch their movies, copy their clothes, and even marry the way they do. And I should go?

 

You say that you are not treated fairly anywhere in the world.

You burn my holy temple on my day of celebration.

 

And you say you are better than me? Are you really better than me?

 

You say God teaches you to be kind.

You say I am dark skinned and refer to me with derogatory names; names that have now become my identity.

 

You say you preach love.

You don’t let me drink from the same glass as you. For if I do, you throw me in jail. I cook my own food there lest someone poisons me to punish me further for that drink. I live in isolation fighting insanity every day.

 

You say one who saves a life is like one who saved all mankind.

You deny me medicine on my deathbed until I recite your holy words and accept your God as mine.   To save me, I must believe in your God?

 

And you say you are better than me?

 

You want me to wish you on your special days to show you that I think it special too.

But you will not sit with me, have a meal or wish me on my day.

 

You tell me to convert, as it will protect me.

You let a girl set herself on fire because you let her rapists roam free.

 

You say to cover my face is to be beautiful.

You brought no justice to the woman who had acid thrown on her face and now has to cover it because you shame it.

 

You scream that I may wear jeans and maybe show too much arm.

But you let that little child marry that old man without a whisper.

 

You declare you respect women, hold them in high honor.

You rape and then parade a woman stripped naked of her clothes and dignity in front of everyone.

 

You snap at me and use the word vulgar to describe me.

You marry 4 women (at times kids) at the same time.

 

You say in death, only God knows the truth and will decide.

You break my tombstone.

 

You stress how important education is.

Your kids ask who is Abdus Salam.

 

You advocate that to know your scripture is to know the right way.

You throw me in jail for blasphemy because I touched your holy book to know the right way.

 

Are you really better than me?

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You know you are from Karachi (Muggarachi) when:

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  • At the traffic light, red mean ‘slam on the accelerator and vroom vroom off’ while Green means ‘look both ways slloowwlllyyy before moving.’  The mysterious function of the yellow light continues to baffle Karachiites on a daily basis.

Red light could also mean ‘Take pics of yourself.’
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