A ray of hope in the darkness
Darkness had surrounded the people of Pakistan
All doors and shutters seem closed.
Lost and confused, wandering blindly in an unfeeling world, they looked for light.
While strong winds blew many of their lighted candles, knocking a few, some burnt, others melted, only one candle remained then, their only hope.
Hidden beneath the unsealed lid of a glossy white and green candle box, the people pull out the very last candle, fresh and unburnt. Standing tall, crisp white, it has a matchless fine wax than all its previously lit neighbours.
The last candle is ready to be lit.
It’s 18th August 2018, Aiwan-e-Sadr is decorated with flags and patriotic banners. As the National anthem plays, the slogan of change also echoes.
Yearning to burst open and sprinkle inspirations, the last candle stands in its appointed place. So upright, so clear, in perfect willingness to be of service.
Finally, getting the chance to live, the purpose of being. All that time, all that work, moulding into shape.
As the glowing teardrop-shaped flame rises, the people of Pakistan see an image of Imran Khan carved on the candle, with twinkling eyes, as dazzling as sparklers. Adjusting his white kameez collar and wearing traditional sandals, his every step appears a silhouette.
But before the spark, it begins with the sound of a matchstick striking. Dependent upon another source of power to provide its flame.
Is Imran Khan our last ray of hope, our only candle?
A dancing, fluttering flame, speaking of change, promising a ‘new Pakistan.’
Blackness begins to fade. The gloomy walls start to glow with its golden beam, reflecting off the closed doors and shutters. The sparkling light spreads across the dark like a symbol of hope. Sending rays of light in every direction, like sunrise on the most glorious morning of Pakistan.
Its amber to blue flare growing speedily, and with it, the heat, the heat so intense, burning out all the corruption. Driving away irregularities like a laser and challenging the absence of light. Each melting wax drip glides slowly from the wick, trying to find a spot, as if it means to plant a seed and form a tree, shaping into the Billion Tree Tsunami.
The kind warmth spreads, reaching up to the patriotic Overseas Pakistanis, creating magnetic opportunities in their path. An educational spark between the people and the book, helping to read and write as each word shimmers between the midnight-blue and the orange-hue. Like a good teacher, consuming itself to light the way of its students.
As the people of Pakistan get closer, a small light flickers over their face called faith.
They become shadows, flapping around. A desperate population trying to send messages to break away from the long, dark, drizzling night.
As they inhale, it fills their spirit with brightness. A gentle therapeutic tool, a healing technique, sending energies. Will it prevent all that is evil and that the lost people will make it home?
Although capable of revealing locations and showing the path, it may not be without its complications. Requiring protection, an open flame is no friend to the wind.
Cupping their palms to shield this last flame, the people of Pakistan are no longer insane.
This time, they will be watching the candles wavering flame, observing the power and elegance of this single flicker, testing it with speed of the winds. Indeed, a flame that is out of control, constantly flashing, or producing nasty smoky marks, should be extinguished.
Yet, if it is a clean, tall, high flame, generating curves of wax like a flower, it should be protected in a lantern clear and gleaming.
But, how long will this candle last?
Its strength shall remain if it shares its flame, lighting other candles. Each flame burns brighter. They all exchange light. Become one. Just don’t be setting Pakistan afire.
Turning into a well-organised system, that which links us all together.
And finally, when the sunlight begins to merge with this candlelight, only then there will be a Naya Pakistan, double sources of illumination.
Is Imran Khan the last candle in the dark?
Do you hear it say, “You are to come this way?” from KPK to Punjab.