THE TERRORLAND - Habib Sulemani Blog

Netizens & Poetry

2023-07-07T18:01:00.008+05:00

By Habib Sulemani

A poem becomes a real poem when the poet breaks all rules of poetry.

A poem becomes a real poem when the poet demolishes the wall of meter.

A poem becomes a real poem when the poet gets rid of rhyme and rhythm.

A poem becomes a real poem when the poet challenges grammar policing.

A poem becomes a real poem when the poet comes out of the gravity of dictionaries and stylebooks.

A poem becomes a real poem when the poet publishes on social media platforms.

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If you find rhyme, rhythm, meter, syntax and stanzas in your poem, then throw it into the trashcan of a musician.

If you find a speaker that uses sound devices, themes and figurative language in a given structure, then give your poem to a literary critic in charity.

If you find classic lyrical tone, symbolism, allegory and other elements of poetry, then fling your poem into a classroom so that professors could carry on their unprotected jobs.

If you find nothing poetic in your poem, then publish it in the form of a book and use the book as a business card.

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Poetry was poetry when men were citizens of a republic and women were subjects of a kingdom.

Now they both are netizens of the same cyberspace where poetry is reality and reality is poetry.

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July 7, 2023. (0451PM)

Vitiligo

2023-07-06T22:27:00.002+05:00

By Habib Sulemani

It was a rainy Rahim night.

I wanted to enjoy monsoon sleep as if tripping cognac, but the spies-on-duty kept me awake all night, working in mathematical shifts.

Time, space and commanders change, but the criminal tactics of the Khaki Caliphate remain unchanged.

What a suicidal junta, yar!

I started frying a poem in the creative pan.

It became clearer than my windows (hit by onduty spies and siblings at the top of every hour).

The sleeptorture is more painful for my elderly parents who hear less and feel more.

They see their younger children torturing their eldest child on khakiorder, but they can't tell the truth in the face of tyranny for the safety of their younger chicken.

Day and night, they keep silent on the issue and shed river of tears in sheer helplessness. They pray for survival of the ISI divided family and polarized country.

They know their younger children aren’t torturing their eldest sibling on their own, like the Brothers of Joseph, rather state machineries force them to do what they do for individual survival.

Even then the spooked spooks publicly compare my siblings with the Brothers of Joseph.

What a double game, generals!

---

July 5, 2023

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Dialogue Before Arrest

2023-07-06T22:25:00.006+05:00

By Habib Sulemani

Call him a madman directly.

Call him a madman indirectly.

Call him a madman in his presence.

Call him a madman in his absence.

Call him a madman by narrating parables.

Call him a madman in whispers to others.

Call him a madman on his face,

and then wait for his fall from grace!

Tell others to do the same in public,

if they want to live in the Khaki Republic!

Ullulla! You’re so poetic today. Wawa!

It wasn’t poetry. I was reading the Order Of The Day from the Golf Road.

Ullulla! I got it. You're talking about the place in Rawalpindi where, on one side is Murree Brewery and on the other side are Iftikhar Arif, Ahmad Javaid and other tehzibi poets, amusing the Mughal Mirza and Kayani Raja!

Yes, yes, yes!

Ullulla! Maybe poets (in the service of the Army House and its surrounding encroached houses of retired generals) have scribed it in lyrical Urdu?

Maybe, yes!

Ullulla! Wawa! What a poem, Lala.

You're not in a mushaira, nor am I reciting a damn ghazal. I’m here to tell you: do it!

Ullulla! Do what?

Call him a madman on his face until he falls from grace!

Ullulla!

Do it if you want a real heaven in this real world. Just do it to get a luxury apartment on the DHA Tower, or a mansion in Bahria Town!

Ullulla! What else I’ve to do to get the real heaven in this real world? Tell me directly, Lala!

He should be publically recognized as a madman. Period.

Ullulla! But why, Lala?

It’s necessary for maintenance of the Order, not just in Gilgit-Baltistan but all over Pakistan!

Ullulla! What a difficult task, Lala! Despite the inhumane circumstances, miraculously, he’s healthy physically as well as mentally. He behaves intellectually. How would the public believe us in declaring him a madman? Tell me directly, Lala!

That’s the real issue, beta! After declaring him a madman, the state has spent money, time and other resources to turn him into a stone-throwing real madman, but still he’s a normal man. Succeeding regimes have been proved liars, but we want to do it successfully this time. We’ll prove the state true against an individual!

Ullulla! What a difficult task, Lala?

It isn’t that difficult now. We’ve already isolated him in the whole world...

Ullulla! You’ve isolated him in the world, still he’s not falling in the galling pitfall! Some of his tormentors are dead, some have just vanished, some are fatally ill and others themselves have gone crazy. Why’s he still alive and healthy? Why’ve we all gone lazy?

Yes. It seems a miracle!

Ullulla! What a miracle, Lala!

But, you’ve to turn this miracle upside down to go higher on the growth ladder!

Ullulla! Are you drunk, Lala?

No. I’m as much in my senses as much is officially allowed in this armyrun Islamic Republic!

Ullulla! Wawa, Lala!

Be serious and act upon the Order Of The Day. The Golf Road wants to see him in a sanctuary if not in a grave in Gulmit, Rawalpindi, Islamabad or elsewhere.

Ullulla! How can we do it to a cool, calm and composed guy in this digitalage? Tell me directly, Lala!

We’ve systematically dried financial options for him inside and outside his family! Make the social circumstances so horrible that he loses his cool. And—and, if not in a sanctuary, lands inside a penitentiary! Tikey?

Ullulla! What a satanic task, Lala!

ISI and MI provocateurs under the guise of governmental, nongovernmental and religious officeholders have already started angry encounters with him—it’s your turn to provoke him!

Ullulla! His exhibition of anger is actually a strategy to make a point to those moronic spooks who bluntly reject his reasoning. They wanted him to become a moronic conformist—a blindfolded follower of the regime, instead of the constitution of the country, but he rejected all offers with solid reasons!

Yes, we’ve no reasoning power. We've just the state power.

Ullulla, o Lala, ullulla!

I confess: His charismatic personality, knowledge and wisdom flabbergast those who meet him for the first time. Moreover, he's a patriotic and lawabiding citizen.

Ullulla! Then how can we declare him an antisocial madman, Lala?

That's the actual issue, but you've to do your part of the psyop! Tikey?

Ullulla! Why these costly psyops and psywars against a gentleman, Lala?

His personality, thought, approach, speech and writing make him the most dangerous man on land! We've to eliminate the danger! Tikey?

Ullulla! You're kidding me, Lala!

No. I'm dead serious.

Ullulla! I thought you were fighting against antistate and antidemocratic elements, Lala!

But he calls the generals corrupt and has declared the premier spy agency a terrorist organization. He calls General Mirza Aslam Beg the greatest enemy of Muhajirs, Pakistan and Islam. He calls General Ashfaq Parvez Kayani the god of mega military corruption. How can the state tolerate such blasphemies?

Ullulla! Is it really blasphemy?

It's more than blasphemy!

Ullulla! Help us, Allah!

Who can go to a police station to bring godlike army generals to justice in Pakistan? Only a lunatic! Tikey?

Ullulla! Is he lying about the generals?

No.

Ullulla! Then what is the issue?

He tells the civilian truth which belittles militarily truths. Who else than a madman can do so in this militarized world!

Ullulla! Thirteen years ago, he was a lone voice in the Garrison Capital. Today every patriotic citizen is as crazy as is Habib Sulemani! How many of them you - I mean - we'd be able in declaring madmen and madwomen? Tell me directly, Lala?

So you've joined him, like others!

Ullulla! Ullulla! Ullulla!

Why're you advocating for the devil?

Ullulla! Constitutionally, I'm advocating for an angellike citizen. You're on the side of real devils! Ain't you, Lala?

Be ready for the treatment what that lunatic and other mad people are facing right now! Tikey?

Ullulla! What else can I expect in a psycho state where psycho statesmen in uniforms rule as the last tyrants on land!

Arrest him, comrades!

Ullulla! Down with the Khaki Republic.

Ullulla! Down with the Brewery Republic.

Ullulla! Long Live the Islamic Republic!

---

July 3, 2023.

---

(This rapidfire prose-poem is for those family members, neighbors, friends, acquaintances, government officials, spymasters, social, religious and political characters whom ISI & MI use against me on orders of the gang of generals and journalists.)

Chinacut

2023-07-06T22:24:00.000+05:00

By Habib Sulemani

Pakistan is facing chinacut since the first military dictator, General Ayub Khan, took over as the President!

He bribed the last Mir of Hunza with the title of honorary major-general and compelled him to gift parts of Khunjerab and Shimshal to China...

Poor Wakhi shepherds lost their precious pasturelands as a result humans and livestock suffered chinesely!

Instead of making Gilgit-Baltistan a constitutional part of the country, the dictator took two maps of Pakistan and China in hand, cut Shaksgam Valley with military scissors ergonomically and pasted it to China with apricotgum!

The chinacuts allured India to try an indiacut on mainland Pakistan...

Consequently, we lost Bengal when the second military dictator, General Yahya Khan, was running the country on clutches of wine and women...

Then we lost Siachen Glacier when the third military dictator, General Zia, was particularizing political sloganeering into Islamization...

He hanged the military-groomed first elected Prime Minister and left the republic in static disequilibrium!

When General Musharraf took over as the fourth direct military dictator, he derooted our country and left power with a final "goodbye" to the apparently crumbling republic...

Today, the hightreason-case-facing absconded military dictator is dead, but the republic lingers on!

Soon after the Atabad Disaster, the indirect military dictator and Army Chief, General Ashfaq Kayani, visited Gulmit to handover Gojal, including entire Khunjerab and Shimshal, to China, to get the mantou of Zhuge Liang, and become a Sun Tzu on the media strength of Major-General Athar Abbas' copycat journo brothers!

When I wrote about the bruised land, minds got healed and stood against the Army Chief's perfidious plan...

They snatched his swagger stick and didn't let him paste another major part of Gilgit-Baltistan to the map of Sinkiang for the patty pie without knowing the Pie!

The Terrorland blog stopped a big bang!

The katakat chinacut continues even today when we’ve lost a big chunk of our beloved country!

Now, ISI undercover agents are making locals mentally ready for another chinacut as the China-Pakistan Economic Corridor has become a parallel scam to Kayani Brothers' Defense Housing Authority!

Spies are building a new narrative on the same moronity:

“Pakistan can come out of financial crisis by selling Hunza to China...”

Oh, you loser khaki mind!

People of Gilgit-Baltistan and Karachi hate chinacut whether it's through ISI or it's offshoot MQM!

A cut is a cut whether it’s on the body of enslaved citizens or hostagetaken countries!

O you traitor generals under the guise of patriotic soldiers!

Stop further cuts on the body of our country.

People want to heal all military cuts on their souls, bodies and country!

The nation is ready to stop further cuts of the khaki Patwari and red China on the green Pakistan!

The suicidal gang of generals is standing against the public and republic...

Let's see who wins!

June 30, 2023

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Maynining

2023-07-06T22:21:00.006+05:00

By Habib Sulemani

The generals have declared poetry dangerous for Pakistan;

dangerous than a nuclear attack from the neighboring Afghanistan!

That’s why they don’t let me write poems peacefully.

They fear poetry because, after the murder of justice, citizens seek poetic justice in the Islamic Republic!

All days and all nights of all years since my incarceration,

the tagteam of spies and siblings keeps me awake systematically...

It's a punishment for writing poems about the gods of corruption in the khaki.

The systematic sleep torture along multidimensional propaganda about my mental health isn’t just a criminal conspiracy to kill a poet indirectly,

but also a moronic strategy to slay poetry...

Amidst Abid's sleep abuse,

last night I wrote a poem while lying in bed sleepawake...

My head was heavy due to sleeplessness still my mind was miraculously clear.

But my tortured torturer was facing hallucinations...

(I pity my civilian torturers and their military handlers equally.

They do it at gunpoint.

They commit crime for their own survival in the errorland!)

Every night, Abid’s mind gets divided and travels down to his knees,

as he waits for the next call of his ISI handler.

I see both guilt and fear in his eyes.

Sometimes the guilt of torturing his "angellike" elder brother dominates his mind.

And other times, I can see a reflection of ISI-grave in his sightless eyes!

Tonight’s sleep torture, however, gave me a new pain, creatively!

After years of observing the pathetic mental condition of my tortured-torturers and their terrorized handlers from ISI, MI and special branch,

I want to write a new poem that no poet has even thought about...

I want to use poetry as a missile against the acquired institutional ignorance of unimaginative generals.

I want to stop those suicidal army chiefs who do nothing but planning versions of May the Ninth while strolling between the Golf Road and National Park Road…

(They’ve made maynining a key part of the Compulsions of Power, constitution of the Brewery Republic, which exists within the Islamic Republic!)

I'm trying to defuse the suicidal generals and their intellectual terrorist brigade.

That’s the difference between a peaceful poet like Habib Sulemani, and a violent general like Ashfaq Kayani.

As the poem becomes clearer on the digital page, the door of my room shatters...

It appears as if the devastating Kashmir Earthquake is on a visit to Gilgit-Baltistan!

But it isn’t earthquake.

It's an attack on poetry.

But the poem survives!

Now, I’m firing the rapidfire poem into cyberspace…

Generals, it's your turn to fire a missile into space...

People are anxious to check the power of poetry and weaponry.

They want to see the fight between tangible data and intangible emotions!

Hey, what are you doing?

Oy, oi, oy!

Can't believe it...

Poetry wins!

Subhanallah!

---

June 10, 2023.

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Brewery Republic

2023-07-06T22:17:00.006+05:00

By Habib Sulemani

General Beggar, General Killer and General Bargainer have encroached on the Army House in the Garrison Capital of Rawalpindi.

Considering our country their breakfast egg, these generals want to break it from outside through doctored inflation and engineered terrorism.

That's why starving people die in stampedes during distribution of ata, and pious people perish during bomb blast inside mosques.

(Humans have become trash and wheat flour sacks are preserved as bullions of gold in Pakistan.)

The suicidal generals want to break the country into further pieces so that their racketeering families – with grotesque desi mindset and lavish Mughal lifestyle – rule each piece as a nuclear fiefdom.

(Nuclear and thermonuclear fiefdoms are the best way for rogue military and civilian dictators to take the freer world as a hostage.)

In the presence of lapdog media, the generals believe, nobody would blame them for breaking the country as they’re officially retired, and their broomly groomed serving generals would keep quiet for fear of their families...

As a watchdog, I can’t refrain from barking to alert the country and global community.

That’s why, when the whole world is silent, I speak through prosaic poems and people listen to me silently, digesting every single word with its old and new meanings.

My poems have blocked the copycat brinkmanship and moronic Fifth Generation War of suicidal generals.

That’s why they’re trying to clear the blockage by persecuting me indirectly and torturing my siblings directly.

If something happens to me or my family, its immediate and longterm consequences wouldbe death beyond the dead for the criminal generals, their partners-in-crime families and other characters!

(They don’t realize it at this intoxicating moment when the blackmailed civilian government is smaller than the godlike army generals.)

The godfathering retired army chiefs take beer from the nearby Murree Brewery, get blind drunk and talk about global jihad while strolling on the encroached Golf Road at nights when sleep goes farer than death.

The civilian masterminds of military treacheries have gone crazy, and so are their handlers from the lazy spy agencies.

Soldiers on duty of the highest security zone have heard a jihad-exporting salesman general mumbling to his pseudointellectual journalist partner:

“What does Habib Sulemani want of us?”

Let me tell the general and his bootlickers:

I want spontaneous breaking of your egg from inside so that a fluffy chick hatches out!

(The generals may not understand the egghatching allegory as they’re familiar only with hatching conspiracies and assassinations.)

In the layperson lingo, exservicemen say:

If the cartel of corrupt former army chiefs isn’t dismantled by the military from inside, then angry citizens of this repeatedly rapped republic would break it from outside, dragging the blackmailing generals with godlike disposition out of the Golf Road to taste the juice of justice at the Ayub Park Military Museum!

(Therefore, the castle of khaki corruption must be seen crumblin' down.)

Injustices have turned our Islamic Republic into their Brewery Republic as the army chief’s encroached official residence and brewery company are in the same alcoholically intoxicated neighborhood where the gods of plunder get every luxury at the expense of taxpayers even after retirement.

Break the castle of khaki corruption.

We’ll rebuild our country from the debris of the castle.

We'll give our beloved country a real democratic shape where justice, peace and prosperity would dance hand in hand.

We’ve seen enough tango of the criminal gang of generals and journalists.

It’s time for a thrango of justice, peace and prosperity!

There’s a big difference between the approach of poets and generals.

But, nowadays, the whole nation has gone poetic.

Inhumane military tactics have forced people to demand with one voice:

“We want liberation from the tyrant generals of our nation!”

The democratizing digital age has given birth to antiterrorism virtual squads.

(And the clumsy generals want to destroy them with their outdated guns and bombs.)

Try to understand it, you dummy dumbs!

“Generals have never won a war,” people say in the streets, “yet their military ego is ballooning—it may explode like the Little Boy and Fat Man...”

Oh, no!

We don’t want to see our beautiful Rawalpindi and Islamabad appear like the warera Hiroshima and Nagasaki!

Let’s save our cities to save the country!

April 9, 2023.

---

Rudaki

2023-07-06T22:15:00.004+05:00

By Habib Sulemani

I go and start tickling him

He starts giggling amidst a strong wave of anger

Who’s this sucker

He asks redfacedly

I keep silent and do what I’ve been doing since long

Gullible of the global village gather around us

Some are amazed others are amused

He’s baffled and tries to catch me

I escape by changing sides

What an impolite journo

(I hear a boy talking to a girl)

He’s making fun of a visually impaired man

Yep

(The girl replies sullenly)

We must respect the white cane

Words of the boy and girl dry my naughty brain

I slow down and he hits me with his white cane

I forget my pain and hug him

I knew it’d be you

(He says calming down)

I tickle him again

This time he giggles happily

As he used to do when his eyesight was better

I go to the onlooking boy and girl

Sorry guys

(I tell them in whisper)

He's my friend

We became friends after taking flights in diverse literary directions

He lost his eyesight in the middle of the journey

But he didn't end the journey

He's a real brave man

He maybe a blind man to others

But for me he’s as normal as he used to be

Together we’ve seen the naked world with our naked eyes

That's why we're naked today

He’s a blessed poet

He used to write love songs for beautiful girls

Though the songs weren’t as beautiful as were the girls

But today they remind aging women their lost beauty

Don’t consider him blind

He used to see beauty even with closed eyes

He’s a visionary person

He's fighting for survival heroically

If poets lose eyesight like Rudaki

Still their poetry can show things to the sighted

Just two eyes ain't enough to see the whole universe.

---

August 23, 2022

George Hayward

2023-07-06T22:13:00.002+05:00

By Habib Sulemani

Hey, Hayward

I didn’t know you live on the Treasure Road in Gilgit City

How are you doing, young man

O come on

Don’t mind frankness of the new millennium

I called you a “young man” because you died young

(At the tender age of thirty—just thirty years)

People don’t grow in their graves

Did you grow older in this 150 years old grave

When I read your unfathomable story in school

It felt like reading stories of Jesus and Hussain

While mourning for your tragic death

I decided to change the attitude and behavior of suspicious rulers

While ameliorating those heartless rulers

Who cruelly killed you on July 18, 1870

I’ve come of age

But you're still a young man

Still you’re remembered as a scholar

But your killers got killed by history

You’ve left an intellectual trace

But your killers have no trace

They’re an endangered race

---

Yeah

I know it

The watchman has just told me

People come and cry at your graveside

But I’m not crying

As a teenager

I’d shed streams of tears

(Which got diluted in the Gilgit River)

Now, at your graveside

(Beneath the Force Commander's residence)

I've no tears left in my eyes

I’ve no pen in my pocket

That's why I’m writing this poem on my smartphone smartly

I wish you'd a smartphone

Today I’ve nothing to add to your tragic story

Even then I'm feeling:

Gilgitis must mourn the death of your youthful dreams

---

You became a victim of the Great Game

The rivalry between the British and Russian colonial empires over Gilgit-Baltistan made you a scapegoat

They ignored literature and intellectual relations

And used military intervention and diplomatic negotiation as weapons

To acquire the mountains of gold in Gilgit-Baltistan

But they failed

Leaving a lesson behind for those regimes

Struggling to be suzerain of other regions.

---

Note: I wrote this rapidfire prose-poem at the graveside of George Jonas Whitaker Hayward (1839-1870) during my first visit to the Christian Cemetery in Gilgit on October 1, 2021. Mr Hayward is known as a nineteenth-century English explorer and a Gold Medallist scholar from the Royal Geographical Society of London, United Kingdom.

Gilgittrap

2021-03-02T13:59:00.001+05:00

By Habib Sulemani

"Why do you..."

"Stop, stop. Stop right there!"

"What happened?"

"No more journalistic questions."

"Just one."

"Uh-uh."

"Just one, yar!"

"Nope."

"Please!"

"Okay, then."

"Why do you call yourself Jutni?"

"Not Jutni, oy," she shouts.

"Then?"

"Kindhearted Jutni," she adds, softly.

"Thanks for the correction."

"You're most welcome," she says, grinning.

"So, why do you like to be called a kindhearted Jutni?"

"It's none of your business," she snubs.

I'm dumbfounded for awhile. Then I try to recollect my shattered courage to ask the question I've never asked anyone so far in my life.

"Would you marry me, kindhearted Jutni," I ask, hesitantly. "I need a brave woman in my life."

"Marry you?"

"Yep!"

"Hehehe." She laughs, subfamily.

At first, I'm embarrassed. Then anger subdues my embarrassment.

"Why are you laughing," I ask, agitating.

"You're a fool," she replies, laughing. "But I'm not that foolish brave of a Jutni you've seen in the old movies!"

"What do you mean?"

"You're thinking about marrying a peaceful woman in the middle of the war, and right in the middle of the battleground!"

"What... war...?"

"You're fighting the corrupt-generals-with-nukes-on-their-belts," she says, gesturing quoteunquote for using my phrase. "It's an unending war, dude! I mean, you'll remain in battlegrounds for the rest of your life."

"But..."

"In other words," she cuts me short, "you're a deadman!"

It falls on me like a thunderbolt.

I become silent.

She keeps talking in broken monologues: "Women marry the living ones... not the dead ones... yes, we do... we do, except for the haqbakhshwan brides of Sind, where feudallords marry their women to the holybook, calling them holybrides... you know... yet another unholy tradition... there is nothing Islamic in our selfstyled Islamic Republic... everything is unislamic... we persecute truthful ulema and present singers, actors, cricketers and undercover spies as ulema... preachers go against their own teaching... yes, yes... that's the fataltruth... but why the tribesmen marry off their women to a book? um... it... probably... it's an effort to avoid giving their women dowry... dowry," she questions herself. "No, not really," she replies to her inquisitiveself. "Actually, it's a masculine act to keep the feminine out of family inheritance... yes, it is so... it's so, yes," she adds, looking at me. "Am I right?"

From my silence, she realizes that I'm listening to her no more.

"Hey, dude, are you alive," she asks, shaking me by the shoulder.

I come out of my deepthought. "Yea, look," I reply. "I'm very much alive. Shukar Alhamdulilah."

"But for how long? Soon you'll be a deadman!"

"How can you say such a brutal thing to me, yar, when I've just proposed you on this Valentineday?"

"It's a universaltruth," she claims. "A person, holding grudges against godlike generals, can't survive in this militarized world of almighty generals, who've stolen even this era from the common people while hiding behind the media..."

I keep silent.

"No way out for you, dude," she adds. "Sooner or later, you are gone!"

I see tears at the corners of her eyes. It puzzles me. 'Is she in love with me,' I ask myself. 'If she loves you, then why'd she torture you with her bladesharp words,' echoes from within me. I remember her humiliating laughter at my proposal of marriage. 'It's time to take revenge of that stabbing laughter at this tearful moment,' I decide, mischievously.

"Hahaha," I laugh out loud, suddenly. A faked laughter, indeed.

She stares at me contentiously, as if I've gone crazy, like the brainsick generals in command.

"Why are you laughing, silly man," she asks, offendedly.

"Coz you're crying!"

"I... am... crying," she says, stopping a teardrop with her indexfinger as it was rolling down her rosycheek. "I'm crying because... see... through sleeptorture, the generals have made your life worst than hell, and yet you've no sense of it! Better you were left rotting in a safehouse of ISI, or a prison of the Punjab Government."

"Oh, my goodness," I say, painfully. "Why this unwomanly behavior, yar! I know you ain't hoydenish at all... but... but why do you say such vicious things to me on this day?"

"Because life is less torturous in torturecells and prisons as compared to life at your home!"

"In the Age of Coronavirus, the whole world has become hell, yar!"

"No. You've the Covid19 plus hell," she says, cleaning her eyes with a white tissuepaper. "ISI twisted the arms of your family members, neighbors and friends, using them against you. The spymasters can easily do the same to your wife, using her against you. That's how spyagencies work, dude!"

"What to do then," I ask, finally.

"Better you leave this terrorland."

"What the...?"

"Yes. It isn't too late yet, Mr Habib R. Sulemani!"

"No way," I reply.

"Why?"

"I didn't go out of this country then! Why now?"

"Why not now?"

"Coz now I'm a gilgitipunjabi citizen of Pakistan."

"Uf, Allah!"

"I'm a constitutional citizen. My political status is no more in limbo, nor am I living in the wild Karakoram mountains!"

"You're a stubborn hillbilly of the city."

"Hahaha."

"Listen," she says, breaking my fakelaughter.

"Say whatever is on your mind, kindhearted Jutni?"

"Those with the badge-of-service consider it their badge-of-patriotism, and they're feeling uncomfortable in..."

"Why," I interrupt.

"Because you show the constitutional differentiation between the two!"

"No, no," I say, beaming. "I think, like you, they're also uncomfortable due to my foolish laughter."

"No, your presence in Pakistan makes them uncomfortable. They feel, using the constitution as a weapon, you're snatching their weapons of loot, plunder and murder. They feel the ground beneath their boots of terror is slipping away!"

"What can I do to make them feel normal," I ask, shrugging. "You see, I'm helpless. I can't take them out of the ocean of crimes against humanity. Only they can help themselves out by stopping committing crimes, and saying goodbye to the testosteronedriven bloody militarylegacy!"

"Let them help themselves in whichever way they want," she says. "You just help yourself in going out of Pakistan."

"No way. Never."

"Why?"

"The over three decades of stay in Punjab has cemented me with the Punjabi-spirit-of-resistance!"

"At least, go out of Rawalpindi."

"No."

"Why?"

"I'm a pindiboy now!"

"You ain't a pindiboy, dude!"

"Then I'm a pindiwal," I say, winking.

"How?"

"Coz the over-two-decade-stay in Rawalpindi has turned me into a real pindiwal."

"Many real pindiwals, like Anand Bakhshi and the Sahni Brothers, have earned fame out of Rawalpindi. You can also go out and become a famous son of Rawalpindi."

"Sorry, yar, I don't want to experience the pain of expulsion from my beloved city as poet Anand Bakhshi and others did. They suffered coz then Rawalpindi's GHQ was in the hands of the Britishraj. Today sons-and-daughters-of-the-soil run the Pakistan Army from the same GHQ. I'm sure the current military leadership won't repeat the bloodygames of the colonialera generals and their desi clones!"

She shakes her head in disappointment.

"Therefore," I announce, sternly, "I'm gonna stay in this Garrison Capital of Pakistan."

"Try to understand, dude!"

"I do understand it all!"

"Your presence has blocked affairs of the state."

"Affairs of the state," I repeat, surprisingly.

"Um," she stumbles. "Actually... I... I mean... the interrelated corruption and terrorgames of the generations of cloned generals, their families, friends and partners in crimes."

"O come on, girl!"

"Really. They feel their existence under threat. You've made it a sort of Tolstoyera!"

"I'm an invalid bohemian. I'm a threat to nobody, yar! You know well that. I'm a peacemaker."

"The threat comes from whatever you've written or do write."

"Who cares for my bohemian writings?"

"The silenced world," she replies with shining eyes as if proud of me. "You're a spokesman of the terrorized and entangled silent public."

"Hahaha," I laugh, genuinely.

"Why're you laughing, dude?"

"I'm laughing at your sleazyjoke."

"I'm deadserious, dude!"

"You tell a lie beautifully, my kindhearted Jutni."

"Not your Jutni, oy," she shouts at me.

"For the first time," I say, smiling, "I'm witnessing the fairsex under grip of testosterone!"

"It's my style," she replies. "I'm free from the influence of men and their fucking testos and testicles!"

"Feminist, eh?"

"Don't call me names like that, oy," she cries at the top her voice.

The louder sound of her voice reminds me the Urduspeaking Sultanrahi of Punjabi movies.

"The age of feminism is gone," she declares. "Now feminism is nothing but politics of the moron. We're living in the age of collectivism where people of all sexes have joined hands to collectively struggle for equal rights. It's the era of collective struggle for building a just world in the universe."

I frown.

We both are silent for some time.

"Listen," she breaks the silence.

"Go on, please."

"Your written words really make the criminal policymakers uncomfortable within their natural and official skins."

"How?"

"Your developed narratives and strategic arguments have gotten attention of global thinktanks."

"Another joke, eh?"

"It's a serious issue, dude."

"Hahaha."

"Digitalage folks in every field-of-life follow you secretly!"

"Hahaha," I laugh again. "I've only 196 followers on Twitter. My scary bio - A journalist, poet and writer on ISI hitlist - keeps people away from me."

She shakes her head emphatically.

"Do they fear my 196 followers on Twitter," I ask. "By the way, most of them are with fake IDs. Some of them are undercoveragents from the ISI, MI and twentysix other spyagencies of Pakistan."

"Oho..."

"I've reduced my Facebook list of friends from fivethousand to around onethousand," I cut her short. "And I'm  aiming to take it further down to fifty. Yea, only fifty friends on Facebook. I hope this tiny cyberspace gathering won't be a threat to the generals with millions of followers on Twitter, Facebook and other socialmedia platforms."

"You don't use socialmedia for the sake of money, views, subscribers, followers, likes, comments, retweets and shares. And this thing makes you a real threat to the generals!"

"Then what to do, kindhearted Jutni?"

"The agencies will not let you do any kind of job or business in Pakistan," she says. "Go out and start business in the freemarket economy. Your presence in this generalsrun Islamic Republic is good for none. That's it!"

I shrug it off.

"Listen," she whispers into my ears by lifting the hood of my woolen coat. "The Armychief and his top spymasters are pushing you out of the vast plans of Punjab to enchain you in the narrow mountains of Gilgitbaltistan. General Bajwa has served in Gilgit as Force Commander Northern Areas when his guru General Kayani was the armychief. So, they know well how to deal with a messy musha!"

I frown, thinking: 'Does she really consider me a messy musha?'

The journalist, poet and novelist within me come in conflict with each other!

On seeing me lost in deepthought, she touches my knee softly. I don't feel tickled. However, I come out of my thoughts instantly. That's how the female touch does to a male! 'Am I a halfnaked fakir at the Lohedandi shrine,' I ask myself, doubtfully. 'Is she a veiled murid of the Margallas!'

"The gang of generals and journalists wants to entrap you in your native mountainous den for a final blow," she reveals, using my phrase for the hegemony of the junta and media. "Don't you see how people are killed in Gilgit and Hunza, and then portrayed it as suicide in the ISPR-run mainstream media and ISI-run socialmedia?"

I don't reply.

"Tell me, dude," she demands with a hiccup.

I'm silent, trying to understand whatever she's just revealed.

"Kayani and Bajwa want to kill you in the nomansland so that nobody blames the generals of Punjab," Jutni says. "Dude, go out of Pakistan before the gilgittrap!"

---

World on Ventilator — A Covid Lovestory

2021-03-02T13:57:00.002+05:00

By Habib Sulemani

Prologue

Wingas is a fitmom

—first-time-mother.

(A humanistic assumption

amidst mishaps and miscarriages

as no mary is left virgin

and mangroomed bloody maries rule boogers

and boogers run our world

where humans burn at stake like kebabing bird.

Ma!)

I've seen four generations of her diligent family.

They worked from dawn to dusk

to survive in the militarized world

where Mr Survival lived without Madam Mercy.

Barbarous!

Observing a generation
(from early days to adulthood)
was cock-a-hoop experience for me.
But I became sad when a generation disappeared.
Then the next generation was gone.

They all disappeared mysteriously

like the missingpersons of Balochistan.

Pooh pa!

Where did the lost generations go?

My journalistic suspicion made a hypothesis;

poetic evocation gave me the address eventhen

I couldn't trace the lost generations from my terrace.

I failed to find the missing ones coz

I was a caged man and they were free birds.

Chewchew!

(Birds?

Yes.

You heard me correctly.

I'm telling you the story of a housesparrow

—chewchew.

Not a desi housewife

—aihi!)

Wingas

(remaining member of the fifth generation of her ancestry)

is a greybrown sparrow

—rather a sheparow.

She's hatched chicks with the help of heparow.

(Sheparow is a caring mother and heparow is a responsible father)

The juvenile-with-pink-bills have yet to gain plumagebeauty

but heparow and sheparow are a beautiful young couple.

Heparow's shining whiteblack feathers have brown markings

yet sheparow's dull but delicate features are more appealing.

Wahow!

Nature is sweet to females.

But we males are often rough to our females.

Curse the testosterone

—satan of all times.

Uhuh!

The ageold rhetoric is in the cervix of society.

Genderequality is still a political hypothesis.

The maledominated redworld is a harsh reality.

Sorry to the subjugated goddesses of all species.

(Men may call me a blacksheep for this apology)

Tabu toba!

Part 1

Wingas with her smart family lives in a luxurious nest.

To woo her greatgrandmother

her greatgrandfather had constructed the early version of it.

Coming generations made it a deluxe nest beneath the lintel.

The nest's outerlayer is made of stems;

the middlelayer contains hay, paper and strings of broken kites;

the innerlayer has silky fabrics from dustbins and broken feathers.

Feathers of their lost ancestors are kept as souvenirs.

Plumes of other birds are there as trophies!

It's a fivestar nest of the Garrison Capital.

A crow or hawk would've seized it

if they were trimmed to fit in this sparrownest

as generals clipcrop people to fit in Parliament!

Buntings, finches and wrens from Kashmir and Hazara

plus migratory birds from the Margallas and Banigala

they all are fond of pilgrimage to this Rawalpindi nesta!

Siberian pilgrimbirds on the way to India

don't forget visiting this Pakistani nest coz

(unlike the houseowners of our polluted metropolis)

housesparrows don't use plastic bags as mackintosh.

Birds of frair are careful about ecology than humans of fromy!

Standing on my terrace

I've been observing nestful activities of generations of birds.

(Without feathering my own nest, like rulers of the Islamic Republic)

I've seen unmated males displaying to females as spring sprang.

They spy on bedrooms, court on balconies and hatch in the nest.

Musical chicks come out in season before going out of sight.

I enjoy nester ablactations even in the silence of the night!

Starling, woodpecker and other broodpredators

often come to eat eggs and babies of poor sparrows.

Some sparrowraised chicks turn into cowbirds and cuckoos.

Brutal broodpredators and clever broodparasites are at work.

And so are the innocent housesparrows.

Sparrows bring up every generation happily

with the hope for a happy new world!

As a novelist

nester lovelife makes me curious.

I'm not ashamed of those birds

which make love in the desiworld.

It doesn't mean that

(like other sexstarving desimen)

I also am a tamashbin

—with lecherous gleam!

O, come on, yar!

Neither the lovebirds are exhibitionists nor am I a voyeurist.

Yes!

No!

Yes!

However

while sipping a mug of gilgitichai

I often ask myself:

Why do some houseowners consider housesparrows nothing

but a symbol of dirt, vulgarity, lust and potency?

They do so in the flow of birthcontrol or there's something deeper?

Journos can't. Poets and fictionists can explore the hidden desimind!

(By the way

birds know nothing

about the prepossessed believes of humans.

If they come to know our prejudiced thoughts

about the animalkingdom

certainly they'd do to us the same thing

what ababil had done to the elephantarmy of Abraha!)

 Part 2

When I saw her for the first time
Wingas was just a featherless chick.
I was on my terrace and she was inside her nest.
Though the nest was above the torturecell window

but I could see her from my rooftop.

She made me forget the years of ISI torture.

The tiny bird gave me a broader window to look at life!

Out of love
I called her Wingas.
I didn't want to turn the hatchling into a poem or novel
but the Wakhi-name-for-sparrow sounded very poetic.

I started singing:
Wingas o my sweet Wingas

Wingas o my unseat Wingas

Wingas o my Indus Wingas

Wingas o my wingless Wingas!

A strange incident happened later on that day.

(It was a beautiful afternoon of the colorful spring

before coronavirus ate our seasons and colors

as a result our rhythm, rhyme and poetics changed.

Metrics were no more versification but pure physics:

a value equal to the distance between them.

Art and literature became mathematics

—a decimal unit of measurement.

The new metricsystem traded art in numbers

poems in kilograms

fiction in meters

and journalism sold at per second!)

In the absence of her working singlemother
the wingless Wingas had fallen down on my terrace.

She was crying desperately

—probably calling for help:

chew, chew, chew...!

The eyes of Wingas were yet closed.

Though she couldn't see the cat

(that maneuvered from terraces to rooftops

in search of boozy lovebirds to prey on)

but the avian hunch had alarmed her.

All she could do was twitter.

(not tweeting like President Trump)

Cheeping...

Chirping...

Chirruping...

Her twitters made tweedles to get help of

kindhearted humanbeings.

Chew, chew, chew...!

Before the cat had sent her into the depths of his gut
my alert ears led my keen eyes to the helpless chick.

I observed the wingless bird for a second

but that second had the intensity of an hour!

My kindheart said Wingas was a sheparow.

My criticalmind pointed out:

"She’s nothing to cover her nakedbody from nakedeye men."

On finding no bellyacher around

I wanted to make truce between the two jihadis within me!

"That's okay, guys," I told my heart and mind.

"Birds have no religious obligations as yet.

Birds are free of the painful emotion we call shame.

Birds don't make judgments like our moralless society.

Akto!"

From bill to tarsus

Wingas appeared ghastly naked to my naked eyes

like slaughtered chickens hanging at a dhaba.

O nah!

A closer look at her made me think:

'This naked chick on the floor

looks like an ultrasound image of fetus

in the womb of my beloved wife.

Bivi!'

My footsteps shocked her.

On sensing untimely death approaching

the wingless Wingas peeped for life.

'She can't hire a drone to fly back home,' I thought.

'A wingless bird is the picture of sheer helplessness.

She wants nothing from life but three springs.

Yeah, at least three years with open eyes and wings!'

(That was the average lifespan of a sparrow in foggy cities.

It was also the dream of octogenarians in many countries.

Then the global pandemic struck like a snake.

It killed hope of the elderly before death!)

Wingas' mother returned to the scene immediately.

The mother and her baby cried in sheer helplessness.

But I was no more a helpless cageman...

I felt godlike powerful and airlike free.

I was ready to play as a goody god among devils!

"Don't worry maparow," I said, looking at the mother.

"I'll be the wings of your wingless chick, o childbearer!"

Maparow had wings to fly and eyes to see the lurking danger.

But she'd not the physical means to take her baby back home.

She wanted to rescue her baby but not at the cost of her own life.
She came to Wingas frantically and flew back frenetically.

Chew, chew, chew...

Chewa chew, chewa chew...!

"Phew," I gasped, observing the mother and her baby.
"The story of a mom seems the same in every species."
I picked the soft chick from the hard floor.

"O, poor, wingless Wingas," came out of my mouth.

"You're in a safehand now.

Baby, it's time to say: Wow!"

The fearful mother flew away

as if I was going to swallow her chick alive.
"I'm neither a cat of the plains

nor a crane of the marshes.

Don't be afraid of me, o blest!"

I left the chick back in the nest.

The wingless Wingas became calm.

Gone into meditation on getting new life.

"Beta, don't be so adventurous

unless you've eyes and wings!"

On seeing her chick back home alive

the mother couldn’t believe her eyes.
She watched me in disbelief from a rooftop.
I tried to read her mind

—the mind of a bird.

O it was damn hard!

In a country where the rich roasted tiny birds

(to enjoy the callous cancellous culinary culture)
and the poor caged them

(to get few bucks as price of freedom)
my kindness was a unique incident for the mombird.

Tweeting of other sparrows indicated that

a man's kindness had become breakingnews of the birdworld!

Before I started feeding Wingas with seeds and grains

her hardworking mother fed her with flies and worms.

When her eyes were closed

her mouth remained open to be fed contiguously.
As soon her mother touched the nest
Wingas would open her beaks mechanically.

The mother would hastily pour all into her leftover chick's bill.

Wingas would've swallowed her mother's tongue

if maparow had become blithe!

The mother's bodylanguage would tell me

she regretted whatever escaped into her own stomach.

'Maparow dumps ration in her beloved chick’s bill.
Wingas swallows everything unchewed.
To slowdown in this reckless world

birds need to develop teeth!'

 Part 3

When Wingas touched adulthood and started flying
(liker her father and other lost family members)

her mother also disappeared somewhere. Or nowhere.
Did maparow meet the fate of her partner, paparow?

I know no knot!

Wingas became alone.

She appeared sad in her inherited nest.
I tried to play small tricks to bring her out of gloom.
Some of my smart tricks worked.

She was happy again!

Maparow had survived attacks of starving cats.

She'd also fled traps of potbellied hunting men.
Then what happened to her on that luckless fall?
Where did she fall?
She became a victim of the bellymanship terrorism of cats

or brinkmanship terrorism of humans?
I've no clues!

The father of Wingas had disappeared long ago.
With the disappearance of her mother
she came even closer to me.

I kept feeding her as if she was my own child!

While sipping tea
I'd place grains for her in a stainless steel plate

placing it on the boundarywall of houses.

But there was no boundary between us.

There was no wall between Wingas and me!

Wingas enjoyed watching me sipping tea more than eating her grains.

She appeared in a psychedelic condition on watching me sipping tea.

"Look, Habib," I told myself once. "This foolish bird is longing to be a human.

She wants to sit across the table and enjoy tea at the cost of her freedom!"

Part 4

One evening

Wingas landed on my grainful hand.

"You don't fear me," I asked, bringing her closer to my eyes.

"Why, yar, why?"

Silence.

She kept picking grains from my hand.
"Silence and staring are your answers to my odd questions!"

I tried to convince her:
"I may've acted as one

but I'm not a god.
I'm a humanbeing.
Actually, I'm a testosteronedriven man.

Stay away from men of the khaki caliphate.
Never trust a man if you're a female of any species.

Oh, still this silly bird trusts a man like a typical woman!"

Then Wingas became a mother herself.
Three chirping chicks kept her busy all day.
She forgot her own mother.

Other family members had forgotten her!

Our mutual bound grew even stronger.

She trusted me more than her fellow birds.

I trusted her more than altered humans and cloned sheep.

I don't know whether she's a humanbeing

or I'm a bird without wings.

O wingless humanbeing!

Part 5

Wingas enjoyed my teasing games.
When I put grains on my lips while sitting in my armchair
she set on my chin to pick the grains from my lips.

No. It wasn't kissing!

One day people saw Wingas picking bajra from my lips.

They blew whistles from their rooftops

as if the bird wasn't picking grains from my lips

but kissing me vulgarly...

Kissing in public!

Wingas’ partner watched me suspiciously.

Heparow wasn't a typical possessive husband.

But cheerful rooftopers of the gloomy neighborhood

gave him the appearance of suspicious husbandhood.

I didn't feel the burning smell of jealousy

but the seventh-male-sense alerted me of his masculine pain!

"O, come on, heparow," I sad, empathically.

"I respect monogamists, yar!

"I'm not a paramour but a friend-in-need.

I'm not a heartless thief to steal your partner

and die a regretful death long before ceasing.

I'm here to bless both of you as an author!"

Heparow never came near me.

He watched me from the capstone enviously.
He didn’t protest with frantic chirping. Not even tweeting.

Innocent Wingas didn't see smoldering embers in the malehead.

She kept picking grains from my lips and hand.
'Maybe,' I thought, 'he's tolerating her flirtation with me coz

I feed their hungry family in deep depression!'

I damn care for what people say.

Still heparow made me ask myself stupid questions:

"Do the pearlmillets appear to him per minute lust?

I didn’t chokehold sheparow even then heparow feels cuckold?

How to say: I don't chokehold the cuckold!"

Swinging between her openbeak chicks and me

Wingas seemed dancing.

She actually danced

though there was not much to dance.

Still she danced coz

she was feeding her chicks without hard labor!

'Is heparow silent for the sake of his hungry chicks?

No. He knows a man can't rape a sparrow.

Sparrows ain't scandalous domesticated birds.

They ain't molested ducks and chickens of the darkweb!'

 Part 6

All was going smooth

when Covid-19 struck the whole world in 2020.

Within no time

the mysterious coronavirus flu became the worst global pandemic.

It confined the public but let the generals free

as if a loose tongue in the widemouth of a puppet politician!

Humans are under quarantine until vaccinated.

I avoid meeting fellow humans.
Humanity has lost its face as humans wear masks.
Nobody knows who's who?
Nobody knows who's sick?

Anybody can send you to a scandalous hospital

where ventilators kill...

Ventilators kill to cash the covidera!

Hundreds of thousands of humans have lost their lives.

Millions have lost their jobs across the globe.

But some got an opportunity to loot with boots!

We're now in the Age of Coronavirus.
Living persons are horrified thru the media

before sending them to the CCG

—covid commercial graves.

Hanji!

During the phases of coronavirus lockdown

legal businesses came to standstill
but illegal businesses of the junta jumped the gun.

Thud, thud, thada thud...!

Corruption has become the ultimate law.

(A general looted even the pandemic relief fund)

Indexes of corruption are bullish.

Indexes of stockexchange are sluggish.

National economy is clinically dead.

The puppet politicianrun state is falling apart.

Longlive the generalrun clandestine state!

 Part 7

Is it the Age of Coronavirus

or Age of Clandestine Governance?

Probably, both

—as they trip the light fantastic toe.

The public can't do anything coz

the generals have cuckold the republic!

What really is going on in the world?
Nobody knows. Not even the journos.

The media repeats dictated lies

until they become accepted truth!

As Covid-19 crossed 2020 and entered 2021
fear and hunger dance hand in hand.

The horrible covid tune goes on nonstop:

Dum lapi dum dum...!

Part 8

From my kaleidoscopic terrace

I watch humans, birds, cats, dogs and cattle.

During phases of strategic lockdown

they all suffered in their own ways.

But housesparrows have suffered

like inhabitants of their host houses!

Today humans and animals fear each other more than before.

They fear each other for their assumed reasons.
Though I'm still intouch with Wingas

but life isn't the same as it used to be!

Somehow we both fear each other in this fearful era.
We meet on my terrace regularly

but keep physical distance.

I use mask, gloves and sanitizer.

Wingas is surprised at my changed behavior!

She can't say "what the fuck" on my masked face.

And I can't tell her the gory story of Wuhan animalmarket...

Wingas picks the grains from the plate on the boundarywall.

Love is no more love. Friendship means physical distancing.

Not just a poem. Novel coronavirus disease needs a novel treat!

When you touch someone in the absence of sanitizer and gloves

you wash your hands with soap for twenty seconds.

And keep an eye on yourself for the next fourteen day:

even if you've no fatigue, fever, cough and breathing difficulties;

even if you've no loss of smell and taste, and other covid symptoms

still fear of the unknown follows you.

Curse the socialmedia hustlers!

 Part 9

After the first Aprilfool lockdown

on a gloomy and empty Sunday

Wingas refused to take my grains
but kept watching me sipping tea.

Inlong she saw my unmasked face.

She seemed in love with my realface!

She looked at me with a mixture of love and curiosity.

She never feared me but refrained from going closer to

my torturers who mathematically deprive me of sleep!

"You've a vision how I'd snatched you from the cat, eh?

Do you consider me an outgrown parent?

But this sort of brood parasitism isn't true, my dear Wingas.

I'm just a friendly man of the unfriendly garrisoned world!"

Wingas kept staring at me silently.

Probably she understood whatever I uttered

or liked the musicality of English

the only language of the world!

At that silent moment

I felt so emotional.

No word but a hug could've expressed it.

But hugging has become a dream in the covidera.

That's why people feel suffocated even on ventilators.

Ventilators have turned into annihilators!

I'd have hugged Wingas if we were of the same size.

'A man can't hug a sparrow.'

This feeling made me so helpless.

Only a pathetic ghazal could've verbalized my situation.

But I don't write pathetic Urdu ghazals.

Woy woy!

"I wish, , my dear Wingas, we were of the same size.

I wish we could have hugged to beat the callous coronavirus.
I wish we could've held each other tightly until emotions cool down.

We'd have crushed the coronavirus during hugging.

We'd have held each other tightly until felt vaccinated.

I want to hug you, yar," I told Wingas recently.

Silence.

"Okay, my dear Wingas. Got it.

A sixfoot man can't hug a sixinch bird!"

Zooming in Wingas, I said:

"We'd have hugged even in this era of physical distancing

if we were of the same size.

I'd have hugged you not as a lover but as my child.

I'd have hugged you even if you were of the size of ostrich or goose.

Alas, a sparrow is neither an ostrich nor a goose.

Not even a hen!"

Part 10

C for covid has cuckold H for humans.

It's cuckold even G for government and...

It may cuckold the A for animalkingdom!

Covid is suffocating humans and sparrows.

It's strangulating domesticated animals.

It's also affecting many other organisms.
If healthcare, peace and prosperity ignored

and the wild military race continued

Planetearth may go on ventilator!

Say goodbye to militarization plan of planets.

While saving the outdated jobs of tribal generals

you may go out of the solarsystem...

You may go straight into a blackhole...

A blackhole is the crematorium of planets.

Instead of parts, plan to save the whole planet!

Religion, science and pandemics are the new global trinity.

What happens to religion and science?
Would they fight each other

or join hands against pandemics and other global threats?

Clergypersons and scientists are silent like Wingas.

And coronavirus is silently replacing God!

Epilogue

I'd lost my job long ago.

I can't afford to lose my life.

I've survived. Amen.

Here the "I" stands for all humans!

During the suffocating lockdown

I'd managed ration for Wingas and her smart family.
They also have survived.

They're lucky unlike their unlucky ancestors.

We've become a story of survival.

Here the "we" stands for all living organisms of the world.

Hurrah!

Milgod

2021-03-02T13:55:00.003+05:00

By Habib Sulemani

(1)

Military has become God.

And God has become Milgod.

(The lower "m" of military has gone up

and the upper "G" of God has gone down)

God is just a ritual to survive in a society.

Milgod is worshiped to survive in a country.

The uniformed gods are everywhere.

Today Milgod is the realgod on Planetearth.

What happens tomorrow?

Even Milgod doesn't know!

In the hands of godlike generals
our militarized world has become a laboratory.
Elected or selected
governments are now stooges of generals.
Traditional constitutions have given birth to sham governments.

Sham governments work shamelessly.

They work in the name of punchball politicians!

Constitutions are dealt as women are treated in the militarized world.

After raping women (in or outside the uniform)

dickhead generals tear pages of their constitutions

to clean the semen from their dickheads!

Nobody dares to change the outdated constitutions in the changed world.

That's why the changed world has stopped changing.

Eventhough babies are born but they grow no more.

Life has become standstill yet Planetearth revolves around the sun.

The almighty generals may stop it, too!

What the constitution says?

Hell with that bunch of sacred papers!

The generals revolve the globe in whichever direction they want.
And we all move accordingly

especially when the drillmaster announces:

"Aboutturn!"

People are fighting each other for food, clothing and shelter.

Generals eat the entire budget on the pretension of fighting people's war.

Actually, generals run businesses via nukes and play golf with guns!

Politicians pretend running governments.

But I found them dancing at the gates of cantonments.

They dance like the dervish at the mausoleum of Rumi.

The whole world seems Turkey!

(2)

Since Mirza, Kakar, Kayani and Bajwa became generals
(with the help of domestic stooges and foreign collaborators)
they've turned the world into a barbwire-wrapped-garrison!

Now, from Asia to Australia
Europe and Africa to the Americas
the whole world has got entangled in barbwires.
Planetearth has become the terrorizing Garrison Capital of the Universe!

In the Garrison Capital of the Universe
hardcore criminals are made barbwires to entangle the innocent public.
Some of the entangled ones get freedom...
But most of them get entangled even after getting freedom...
The good guys and bad guys have become companions.

They're companions like day and night, or peace and war!

(3)

Alas, Ma’am!
In the last days of your long life
you got entangled in this garrisoned world...
They made you restless and let sleeplessness kill you.

And you died helplessly in front of your own children and their children!

I'm so sorry, Ma'am!

I didn't know about your presence till the last!
Before I could speak to you a word or two
you'd gotten relieve from life in the torturecell!

O, you
(one of the heavenly mothers)
if you see mothers of the generals somewhere in paradise
tell them that
(to hide trillions of militarycorruption)
their armed sons have made the world a real hell for the commoners!

(January 16, 2021)

Sleeptorture

2021-03-02T13:54:00.001+05:00

(A poem for the suicidal generals and spymasters)

By Habib Sulemani

What's he doing right now, boy-1?

Sir, he's in the kitchen.

Using the kitchen as a toilet?

No, sir!

Then?

Sir, I can hear him listening to the radio.

Throw your ears inside his kitchen like grenade!
Don't let your ears explode, let them work like eyes!

Okay, sir?

Good, boy!

--

Sir, sir!

Go on, boy-1.

Sir, I can hear shwatshwat sound from his kitchen!

Is he doing sex?

No, sir! He's alone.

Then?

He's making roti, sir!

Good, boy!

Thanks, sir!

I'll make a good agent out of you!

--

Sir, now he's in room-1.

Wait for ten minute.

Okay, sir!

Then your opendoor must sound like an exploding bomb!

--

Sir, after slamming it, I can see cracks in my door!

Is there a crack in his nap?

Yet no indication, sir!

Break your door and make a bill for ten doors!

--

Boy-2, where is he?

I don't know, sir.

What the fuck!

Sir, we banged doors, hit walls but there's no response.

Oh, my God! What to tell the boss now?

Sir, he maybe dead!

He won't die before us!

Then what to do, sir?

Go and fuck yourself!

Sorry, sir!

Shut up, you bastard!

--

Yes, agent-1, on groundfloor?

Sir, honking horn, silencerless bike and slamming doors didn't work.

Where did this fuckedup journo go?

Even the team of chirping girls didn't work, sir!

Oho! Is he a real man?

I have seen his bald head, sir, but never gone between his legs!

--

Agent-2, you get him out of topfloor!

Sir, I used K&K formula.

Did he react?

No, sir! The kids are tired and all kites are tornoff.

Phew!

Besides banging doors, windows and buckets,
even the backstreet firecrackers and gunfire didn't work!

Call the C-130 to fuck the shit inside him!

--

Yes, agent-2?

Sir, the C-130 is hovering over his house.

It flies so low, eh?

Yes, sir. Windows of his house are shattering.

Tell everyone to use their eyes and ears vigilantly.

I fear, sir, the aircraft may hit the minaret of the mosque!

Don't worry, agent! Brinkmanship needs selfdestruction!

--

Photo by Habib Sulemani

The Poet Primeminister

2021-03-02T13:52:00.004+05:00

By Habib Sulemani

Oh!

Poetpolitician A B Vajpayee is gone

But poetry and peace can't die!

Today the world sees tears of India only

Try to see the tears of Minare Pakistan, too!

Long live poetry and peace

Rest in peace
Poet Primeminister Vajpayee!

(August 17, 2018

Baby Hiba of Kashmir

2021-03-02T13:52:00.000+05:00

By Habib Sulemani

No!

It's a lie!

Pellet wounds in your eyes

can't deprive you of vision

as sleeptorture can't deprive me

of my creative senses!

Just open your eyes, honey!

See!

I've something for you!

It's a teddybear, Hiba! 

Cool!

Conflicts die!

Babies survive!

Get well, beta! 

---

Note: On seeing a tweet, I wrote this rapidfire poem in the comments section on November 26, 2018.

Photo by the Mirwaiz

Peace will Make Peace

2021-03-02T13:50:00.003+05:00

By Habib Sulemani

It’s too much, yar!

Let's confess to each other:

the pain is fiftyfifty!

Let’s stop the killing sprees!

Let’s clean stains of old and fresh blood!

Let’s make peace,

real peace is still possible, yar!

If we don’t make peace today,

peace will make peace tomorrow!

---

(February 5, 2018)

Drawing by Habib Sulemani

Jamicanda

2021-03-02T13:49:00.001+05:00

By Habib Sulemani

Neither I'm from Jamaica

Nor have I been to India

Eventhen today

I feel jamicanda!

Ms Kamala Harris sworn in

As the first woman Vicepresident of

The United States of America

And President of the American Senate.
Wawa!

Generations of Americans have been waiting
To witness this once-in-a-lifetime moment
And the gluing American history recorded it today.

Jamicanda!

Congratulations, Madam Vicepresident!
You've made history
Or history made you!

I hope
As the Vicepresident of America
And President of American Senate
You'll do what no man has done since 1776!

It's time
To change
The culture of 
Testosteronedriven
Political decisions
So that
There's peace and prosperity
For everyone on Planet Earth!

And everyone is jamicanda!

---

(January 20, 2021)

Pic by @Brklygrad

Justice in Terrorland

2021-03-02T13:48:00.000+05:00

By Habib Sulemani

The poem had ended there
The prose goes on!
General Kayani repeats crimes of General Beg
Terroristkid Naveed follows Targetkiller Suddle:
Divide the family,
kill the brother when his sister is Prime Minister,
then kill the sister to bring an end to the Bhuttos!

Sharif Brothers are being divided,
as if a birthday cake!
The Zardari father & son are being scattered,
as if threshing wheat!
If this is the condition of the ruling politicians
who am I?
An invalid journo and his poor family's suffering
never get counted in today's militarized world!

I repeat what I'd said at start of my incarceration in 2010:

Let's bring those people to justice
who use religion, race & nationalism
as weapons against humanity,
and those criminal minds
who want to make Planet Earth
a terrorland in the universe!

---

January 19, 2018 (Rawalpindi, Pakistan)

Warriorpoet of Punjab

2021-03-02T13:46:00.000+05:00

By Habib Sulemani

Faiz Ahmed Faiz
Ustad Daman
Habib Jalib
and today
another warrior-poet from Punjab is gone!

Munnu Bhai leaves Pakistanis behind
to carry on his war
to bring the cult of criminal generals to justice!

We'll win!

--

Note: I'd written this rapidfire poem on the death of journalist-cum-poet Munnu Bhai, publishing it instantly on Facebook. As usual, the ISI cyberwing hackers changed the second last line, changing the "cult of criminal generals" into "cult of criminal enerals". They often show their smartness to me!  
JcttiaSnuoapounrsy 1o9nreteelan, l20tfi18edn  

I rejected Pakistan Army Chief's demands & my life is in danger

2021-01-24T19:44:00.026+05:00

By Habib Sulemani

General Qamar Javed Bajwa

In response to my application to Pakistan Army Chief General Qamar Javed Bajwa, a team of armymen from the Adjutant General's office at the General Headquarters (GHQ), came to my house in Rawalpindi on December 1, 2020. They were two well-prepared but cautious guys: the over-six-foot Syed Arsalan Bukhari and a stout man who refused to tell me his name.

There was a noisy debate about my writings and the "national-interest" of the Islamic Republic of Pakistan. The journalist, poet and novelist within me didn't care about the sugar-coated threats and generous offers of the armymen...!

I answered their political questions with examples. When asked, I gave suggestions to resolve political crises within the parameters of the Constitution of the country... They became satisfied with my replies but they couldn't answer when I asked basic questions. Before leaving my house haphazardly, as ISI agents with armed goons had gathered outside, the GHQ team agreed that I was on the right path but it wasn't their path!

Lt-Gen Faiz Hameed

On December 3, 2020, the Adjutant General's team from the GHQ, led by Syed Arsalan Bukhari and a new man who also refused to tell me his name, called me at a restaurant. Since then I've never heard from the military leadership as I'd rejected two key demands of the Pakistan Army Chief'.

Before revealing the rejected demands of the military leadership, let me tell you the background of my meetings with the GHQ team.

After the attack of General Ashfaq Parvez Kayani's son Sarosh Kayani, I went to the police station from where I was taken to hospital for treatment. However, the police refused to register a case against the son of the former army chief of Pakistan, suggesting me to go to the military because the police department was unable to bring generals and their civilian family members to justice in the current Pakistan...

Therefore, I decided to contact the military directly. I wanted to raise the issue of depriving me of sleep first with the top spymaster of the republic. So, on August 27, 2020, I went to the ISI Headquarters in Islamabad. I formally registered a complaint against the premier spy agency's ongoing sleep-torture and other persecutions that I'm facing for over ten years. Through an application, I requested ISI chief Lieutenant-General Faiz Hameed to bring an end to the decade-long persecutions, started in 2010 when Lieutenant-General Ahmed Shuja Pasha was ISI chief. The following is my application:

Neither the ISI chief replied to my application nor the ongoing persecutions stopped. As some of the persons being used against me have been given employments at the GHQ. Also, a person claiming to be an officer of the Military Intelligence (MI), had attacked me, so I wrote another application and went to hand it over to the MI chief Major-General Azhar Wiqas, whose office is inside the GHQ.

I've just returned from hospital. 4 hours ago, at 11 PM (May 31, 2020), Gen Kayani's son Sarosh Kayani with his team attacked me at home. They broke my laptop & cellphone; beat me brutally, targeting my spinalcord. Police sent me to Holy Family Hospital, where I got treatment...
— Habib Sulemani 🌲 (@HabibSulemani) May 31, 2020

However, the people at the reception of the GHQ refused to receive my application, because it was against a former army chief. The following is my application:

By then ISI sleep-torture had intensified via Javed Awan, his sons Haroon and Ibrahim. Policemen again told me to contact the GHQ as the Javed Awan and his sons were part of the ISI team being handled from the area commander's office at D-474, Satellite Town, Rawalpindi.

Unfortunately, my application to the Pakistan Army Chief was rejected at the reception of the GHQ. I was told to submit it to the Army House in Rawalpindi. And so I did on September 23, 2020. The following is my application to the army chief:

In response to the above application, the aforementioned GHQ team held meetings with me in December 2020. During the meetings, I rejected the Adjutant General of Pakistan Army's demands to give them the manuscripts of my unpublished novels, The Terrorland and The Peaceland, especially the ones I'd written during my eight years of incarceration in the Garrison Capital of Pakistan. I also rejected the Adjutant General's demand of selling out my Rawalpindi house and going out of Pakistan...

Thus the ISI has increased its ways of persecutions, especially depriving of sleep through the bunch of employed neighbors, undercover agents and hired hooligans. The most shocking thing is that ISI officers keep my neighbors -- especially Javed Awan, Haroon Awan, Ibrahim Awan, Saad Zeb, Shoaib Kayani and their poor families -- awake so that they can do things to deprive me of sleep under different guises and pretensions...

Right now -- on January 24, 2021 -- the 24/7 nonstop sleep torture from all sides of my house is going on... I've not slept even for an hour during the last two days... Therefore, I'm thinking to going to protest outside the GHQ to sensitize soldiers and officers of the Pakistan Army to stop the years-long systematic ISI sleep torture.

I need the silent prayers of the whole world.

--- 0 ---

Related Blog Posts

1- Pakistani police reject case against General Kayani, Sarosh Kayani & others

2- Police can't stop ISI from subjecting me to sleep-torture

3- 15 evidences of ISI sleep-torture

4- Sleep-torture kills lady; water, power & internet being blocked

5- GHQ silent after meetings, ISI sleep-torture worsens

6- ISI office becomes center of organized crimes in Rawalpindi

7- My gasline blocked for a year; Govt & SNGPL are silent spectators

8- My Application to Police to Register Case Against General Kayani & others

9- General Kayani's son Sarosh Kayani attacked me

10- Muhajirs vs Indian Generals of Pakistan Army

My gasline blocked for a year; Govt & SNGPL are silent spectators

2021-01-23T23:01:00.052+05:00

By Habib Sulemani

After my socialmedia posts about a general of the ISI, the Sui Northern Gas Pipelines Limited (SNGPL), Pakistan's largest integrated gas company, illegally blocked the gasline to my house in Rawalpindi, the Garrison Capital of Pakistan. SNGPL officials did it on the order of the premier spy agency of the Islamic Republic. I have gone to the offices of the company, wrote to the Oil and Gas Regulatory Authority (Ogra) and complained to the Prime Minister's Performance Delivery Unit (PMDU) but nobody is taking the risk of annoying ISI. A year has passed and I've no gas at home.

Let me show a glimpse of the ongoing persecution through my letters and tweets so that you can get a glimpse of the deep-state that has taken the actual state hostage in Pakistan. First of all let me show you my email to the Ogra.

To,
The Registrar,
Oil and Gas Regulatory Authority (Ogra)
Plot # 54-B, Fazal-e-Haq Road,
Blue Area, Islamabad,
Pakistan.

Sir,

I am a journalist, poet and writer. I have worked for the daily Jang (largest Urdu language newspaper of the world) in Lahore and Rawalpindi. I have been a member of the editorial team of daily Dawn (a leading English language newspaper that Mr Jinnah had founded before founding Pakistan) in Islamabad.

I am residing in D-Block, Satellite Town, Rawalpindi, for nearly 22 years. Though I was born in the erstwhile Hunza State and went to school in Gilgit-Baltistan, but I have been living in Punjab for the last 32 years. Therefore, I call myself a Punjabi-Pakistani of Gilgiti heritage.

I am a law-abiding cool, calm and composed citizen. I have nothing against anyone in the world. I endorse democracy, civil liberty, rule of law and equal justice under law. Instead of traditional jingoism, I want negotiations between challengers, especially Pakistan and India.

As soldiers of the Pakistan Army, three generations of my family have given sacrifices for the country. My grandfather Snober was part of the 1947-48 war, my elder uncle Akbar fought in the 1965 war, my younger uncle Amirullah fought in the 1971 war, and my 21-year-old brother Ajaz courted martyrdom during the 1999 Kargil War.

The warworn history of my family and country has made me a firm believer in peace. I think peace and prosperity for all is necessary to evolutionary grow as a respected nation-state of the world. That is why I speak my mind fearlessly when there is an issue of national-security and political-economy. Consequently, I am facing systematic state-persecution.

Sir,

Javed Awan is seen with Talat Rauf & Afzal Ashraf of SNGPL.
They changed my original gas meter with a doctored-meter
on November 14, 2019.
After my social-media posts about those elements within the Inter-Services Intelligence (ISI) who abuse their power, Director ISI Research and Analysis Wing Major-General Ahmed Mahmood Hayat, through his “men” inside the Sui Northern Gas Pipeline Limited (SNGPL), secretly installed a doctored-gas-meter outside my house which has blocked gas supply to my house and runs nonstop (without using gas). Despite my repeated requests to the SNGPL (personally as well as through telephonic calls), it is the third month and they have not change my gas-meter. SNGPL officials first said there was an internal leakage. So, I called plumbers of Rawalpindi-Islamabad but they didn’t find any internal leakage. Now the SNGPL officials say that it is a work of ISI office at D-474, Satellite Town, Rawalpindi, and the SNGPL can not do anything without ISI order, because it is not only a meter of their jobs but lives, too!

Therefore, I request you, sir, to use your legal power and change the doctored-gas-meter outside my house and correct my inflated gas bills. I live alone and rarely cook, and it is obvious from the history of SNGPL bills for the last one year.

Sincerely,

Habib-ur-Rehman Sulemani
S/O Suleman
SNGPL Account ID: 68481030002.
SNGPL Bill ID: 684215534204.
Address: NW 318/B, D-Block, Satellite Town,
Rawalpindi, Punjab,
Pakistan.

February 15, 2020.

There was no response from the Ogra. The SNGPL cut my gas line without even informing me. They took away the doctored-meter when the bill went beyond Rs 40,000. How it all started, let me show you a history of this persecution through my tweets.

I called @SNGPLofficial Emergency: 1199, went to nearby office, my gasline is still blocked.

In my absence ISI goons entered my house destroyed my laptop, geyser & UPS.

Is it a doctored gasmeter to punish me with inflated bills? Next bills will reveal it! #ISI #Persecution pic.twitter.com/zAqJj00ujj
— Habib Sulemani 🌲 (@HabibSulemani) November 14, 2019

No gas leakage, no home-appliance running inside my house & yet ISI-doctored new gas-meter runs like this outside. I went to @SNGPLofficial office but nobody dares to stop ISI goons from interfering in their affair. This is Gen Kayani-run terrorized Pakistan in 2019. #ISI #SNGPL pic.twitter.com/Hsj6m06N6b
— Habib Sulemani 🌲 (@HabibSulemani) December 16, 2019

ISI has become agressive. Cuts my waterline and fills it with dirt. #ISI #Persecution #Pakistan pic.twitter.com/VBeCMd61Z3
— Habib Sulemani 🌲 (@HabibSulemani) December 16, 2019

Sources claim that @SNGPLofficial is under great pressure from ISI to restore my gas connection. "Even @PakistanPMDU can't do anything until Maj-Gen Ahmed Mahomood Hayat gives a signal!" See the continuity of this thread in a new thread: https://t.co/6i2wCw8l0H #StopISI #SNGPL
— Habib Sulemani 🌲 (@HabibSulemani) November 4, 2020

Maj-Gen Ahmed Mahmood Hayat has blocked my gasline for over 7 months, internet blocked for over 3 months, water blocked today. Sleep torture & stalking go on. #ISI #persecution
— Habib Sulemani 🌲 (@HabibSulemani) September 27, 2020

Izhar Shah & team from @SNGPLofficial came to me today. Untill now rogue guys under the guise of SNGPL employees used to come in my neighborhood! Today's team was the first polite professionals in uniforms. Hope they'll restore my gas after 8 months of illegal blockage. #SNGPL
— Habib Sulemani 🌲 (@HabibSulemani) October 13, 2020

Right now I'm in SNGPL's Rawalpindi regional office, opposite Bahria Town, ISI guys are following me. Wherever I do go inside the building, the concerned officers either refuse to cooperate or just disappear! What to do, @SNGPLofficial, @PakistanPMDU?
— Habib Sulemani 🌲 (@HabibSulemani) October 20, 2020

Phew! Mazhar sent me to Adnan who referred me to Haider of sales section. Haider isn't at office & is expected in an hour. So I'm waiting outside the @SNGPLofficial regional office in Rawalpindi. pic.twitter.com/va1ULsITs2
— Habib Sulemani 🌲 (@HabibSulemani) October 20, 2020

Last night @SNGPLofficial permanently sealed my gasline. And again today armed guards didn't allowed me to meet SNGPL GM Javed Iqbal Khan or his subordinates in regional office Rawalpindi. What's this @PakistanPMDU?
Cc: @ImranKhanPTI @OmarAyubKhan @OfficialDGISPR #SNGPL #StopISI pic.twitter.com/VxwrDuGF4H
— Habib Sulemani 🌲 (@HabibSulemani) October 23, 2020

Instant punishment! Sui Northern Gas cut my gas line permanently after my video about ISI. How today I wasn't let to meet @SNGPLofficial Rawalpindi region's General Manager Javed Iqbal Khan or his subordinates? Watch my Facebook live video:https://t.co/Mv0mVHBbVL #StopISI #SNGPL
— Habib Sulemani 🌲 (@HabibSulemani) October 23, 2020

Instant punishment. Sui Northern Gas cut my gas line permanently after my last night video. Again today I wasn't let to meet SNGPL General Manager Javed Iqbal Khan or his subordinates. #StopISI

Posted by Habib Sulemani on Friday, October 23, 2020

On this day last year, ISI forced @SNGPLofficial to block the gasline to my home. SNGPL officials are ready to restore the gas supply after correcting bill of ISI-doctored gasmeter, but they're fearful of ISI. #StopISI, @ImranKhanPTI @OfficialDGISPR.https://t.co/Lz0hzKaMho
— Habib Sulemani 🌲 (@HabibSulemani) November 14, 2020

On January 12, 2021, SNGPL announced on its Facebook page that as a digital-age company it was ready to help its consumers through the socialmedia platform. "O really? Let me try it, too," I wrote on the comments section of this post before inboxing my complaint.

"Sir, would you correct my bill and restore gas connection? Thanks. Account ID: 68481030002 Cell: 03..." I inboxed this message and got the following instant response:

معزز صارف، ہم سے رابطہ کرنے کا شکریہ۔ ہمارا سوشل میڈیا نمائندہ آپ سے جلد ہی رابطہ کرے گا۔
Dear consumer, thank you for getting in touch with us, You will be contacted by our social media representative shortly.

When there was no response. I wrote this on SNGPL page, taging the Pakistan Army and chief military spokesperson:

After inboxing you basic information, a week has passed but I've not heard back from you, Sui Northern Gas. What happened, sir? Again ISI not allowing you to restore my gas connection, cut off illegally, eh? Please, Pakistan Army and DG ISPR, protect SNGPL officers against ISI threats and restore my gas connection. Thanks.

Sleep-torture kills lady; water, power & internet being blocked

2021-01-19T01:19:00.008+05:00

By Habib Sulemani

Today I found that the ISI guys have broken the waterline to my house again, for the fourth time in a year. The Water and Sanitation Agency (WASA) can't do anything to stop the undercover agents from the ISI safehouse at D-474. Last time when it was blocked, I'd said on Twitter:

ISI stops WASA from opening my waterline. Officials say: "We'll open it tomorrow." That hasn't come yet rather they cut water supply to my neighbors to deny my ongoing persecution & generalize it as a water crisis. Tubewell & purification plant ruined.

Residents were saying that WASA was not opening the waterline due to fear of ISI. In the following Facebook Live interview, my neighbor Javed Awan had exposed the way our waterlines had been blocked.

Meanwhile, ISI blocks my power whenever I write something about the premier spy-agency or the generals, especially the gangs of General Ashfaq Parvez Kayani and General Mirza Aslam Beg, who've become godlike figures in the Islamic Republic of Pakistan.

Whenever I go live on Facebook, either my internet service is blocked or the light of the whole neighborhood is cut off for three to eight hours. That's a routine for years now. Here I'm showing you an old post from my Facebook. Before starting the video, I'd written:

DHA (Defence Housing Authority) scam, threat of Kayanis and power blockage! After a Facebook post about former army chief General Ashfaq Kayani and DHA Valley Islamabad corruption case, power to my house has been cut off for about five hours. The IESCO (I call it WAPDA as we used to do in Lahore) is helpless and often punishes my entire neighborhood to generalize the issue (as loadshedding) and reject the impression of persecution. If you see my timeline, this kind of torture lasts for five to eight hours and is a routine since 2010.

The other day, unfortunately, an elderly lady in my neighborhood died due to the ongoing sleep-torture that was aimed at me from the house she was staying in. This is what people of the neighborhood say in hushed whispers. While she was ill, ISI undercover agents forced her family to carry on the sleep torture tactics next to my bedroom. As our houses are so close to each other in the alley, therefore, her conditioned worsened. The 24/7 sleep torture killed her on January 14, 2021. She was the mother-in-law of Javed Awan and maternal-grandmother of Haroon Awan and Ibrahim Awan. I was so upset that, besides writing poems, I went live on Facebook. First they cut my power. Then blocked the internet. See the incomplete live video with the following caption:

Inhuman act of ISI kills nextdoor lady. Pakistan Army fails to stop ISI goons from torturing my neighbors, especially Javed Awan, Saad Zeb and their families.

Then in the comments section, I wrote: Sorry I couldn't continue because my internet service was blocked by the nextdoor ISI officer Khursheed Ahmed Khan.

I recorded a video and uploaded it on Facebook on the next day with this caption: "My appeal to Pakistan armed forces: Pakistan Army, Pakistan Navy and Pakistan Air Force -- ISI marathon sleep torture killed Javed Awan's mother-in-law on January 14, 2021. Even then Khursheed-led ISI team continues depriving me of sleep, day and might. If something happens to my family, neighbors and me, Army Chief Gen Qamar Javed Bajwa, CJCSC Gen Nadeem Raza & other generals would be responsible."

"In the history of intelligence agencies, no victim has survived systematic sleep-deprivation this long as Habib Sulemani," a source close to Lieutenant-General Naveed Mukhtar quotes the former top spymaster of Pakistan as saying. "It's miraculous to remain alive, healthy and productive in such a miserable condition. That's why, besides top agencies of the world, doctors, psychologists, sociologists and anthropologists are doing research in this regard... It's the only failure of my career as ISI chief!"

---

Also see: Application to police against General Kayani

Muhajirs vs Indian Generals of Pakistan Army

2021-01-13T19:19:00.073+05:00

By Habib Sulemani

General Mirza Aslam Beg (left to right), General K. M. Arif
and General Rahimuddin Khan.

Before breaking the secret story of the "Indian Generals of Pakistan Army," let me tell you briefly about an interlinked topic: the Muhajirs of Pakistan.

When I hear the word Muhajir, immediately the sacrifices of millions of people come to my mind. When I hear the phrase Urdu-speaking Muhajirs, images of highly educated, civilized, urbanized and intelligent people come to my mind.

Actually, Muhajirs were those multiethnic, including native Urdu speaking, Indian Muslim immigrants who came to Pakistan when it broke off India and emerged as an independent republic in 1947. The Muhajirs included some ambitious men in their twenties. They'd migrated to Pakistan with the highest expectations and got the status of immigrants as compared to those millions who'd been declared refugees. Due to their elitist background, or connections in the corridors of power on both sides of the newly-created border, these young men were instantly commissioned in the Pakistan Army.

However, some ex-servicemen claim that the immigrant officers refused to assimilate with the native officers of the Pakistan Army. They considered themselves educated, urbanized, civilized and elitist and kept a mental distance from the native officers, thinking that the locals were from less-educated, tribal-rural and uncivilized backgrounds.

According to sources, one of these immigrant officers, who rose through the ranks as a fourstar general, had actually been commissioned in the Pakistan Army on a recommendation letter from Jawaharlal Nehru, the first prime minister of the Republic of India. During the first war between Pakistan and India, some of these immigrant officers were actually fighting against their family members on the other side of the border. One high-ranking officer in the Pakistan Army was fighting against his brother who was a high-ranking officer in the Indian Army.

General Asif Nawaz Junjua died mysteriously

Other immigrant cadets also became generals, some of them serving as Director General of the Inter-Services Intelligence (ISI), Chief of Army Staff (COAS) and Chairman Joint Chiefs of Staff Committee (CJCSC). One of these lucky men was former COAS General Mirza Aslam Beg.

General Beg is accused of many crimes, including being an Indian spy in the Pakistan Army. He reportedly played a double-agent, especially during the fall of Dhaka in the 1971 war and the Siachen conflict in 1984. In the first incident, India had partitioned the country into the remaining Pakistan and Bangladesh while in the second incident it (India) had captured key part of the Siachen glacier.

The Terrorland (in a thread of investigative-tweets, considered a new chapter in digital-age journalism) had reported the following in 2015:

The current military leadership is helplessly silent, but a retired ISI chief has responded to our post: Google +.

He says: Yes, there were some foreign-spies who entered Pakistan Army & reached to the top due to a foolish strategy of Gen Ayub Khan. Unlike Indian agent, Ravindra Kaushik, who worked in the Pakistan Army as Major Nabi Ahmed Shakir, the agents at the top escaped laws! President Ayub had allowed some Pashto, Persian & Urdu speaking military officers to work for Afghan, Iranian & Indian spy-agencies. Among them was Mirza Aslam Beg who as an SSG officer had even visited India, apparently clandestinely. It was a strategy after 1965 war.

Gen Ayub & his son's action against Urdu-speaking people in Karachi made the younger Aslam Beg angry & vengeful than jealous. In the 1971 war, a senior officer had expressed serious doubts about Aslam Beg but Gen Yahya had ignored it.

Dhaka's fall was ignored, but after Siachen's fall, a general doubted Aslam Beg's loyalty to Pakistan. However, Gen Zia retired the complainant. Using his flowery-language, Aslam Beg became a fourstar general; made a pair with Hamid Gul & started the killing game of Pakistanis & Muslims.

As army chief, Aslam Beg's first action was obstruction to justice, dictating Supreme Court of Pakistan, to make way for his dream: MQM.

Aslam Beg systematically worked to make Karachi a separate country; he cunningly used Hamid Gul. Through networks of his kin & kith, Gen Aslam Beg ruined every institution, making successive army chiefs his intellectual-stooge.

No govt, court or army chief could hold Gen Aslam Beg accountable; even Gen Musharraf failed.

You mean: Pakistan Army Chief Gen Mirza Aslam Beg actually worked for India?

"Yes, it's in our records," the spymaster replied.

15- Gen Mirza Aslam Beg is RAW agent. ISI ex-chief seeks legal action. https://t.co/EqsNiwZA2E @ISPR_Official pic.twitter.com/WY7ER0DVij
— THE TERRORLAND (@Theterrorland) September 3, 2015

In a Facebook Live video last month, I told my friends a story. It was about an ex-serviceman talking to another on the backseat of a public vehicle. The guy was, probably, in his seventies, and had served in the Pakistan Army when General Ziaul Haq was Chief of Army Staff and President of Pakistan, General Rahimuddin Khan was Chairman Joint Chiefs of Staff Committee, General Khalid Mahmood Arif (popularly known as K. M. Arif) was Vice Chief of Army Staff and General Mirza Aslam Beg, as a three-star general, was the Corps Commander of Peshawar. General Rahimuddin and General Beg are still alive and soon would be centenarians.

General Beg is the one, considered the backbone of the socalled military establishment, which has taken Pakistan as a hostage since 1987, the year when General Beg replaced General Arif as the Vice Chief of Army Staff, and a year later took over as Chief of Army Staff when General Zia, along a dozen other generals, died in mysterious aircrash.

"Those men, who weren't born on this land but become generals, are determined to ruin the remaining Pakistan," the ex-serviceman told his younger companion, painfully. He named the aforementioned generals, saying that he'd worked under their command during his quarter-a-century service in the Pakistan Army. He used the phrase "Pak Fouj Key Hindustani Jurnail" or Indian Generals of Pakistan Army.

I used that phrase, Indian Generals of Pakistan Army, in quotes on socialmedia, making an appeal to the current military leadership, COAS General Qamar Javed Bajwa, to stop the policy of state-sponsored-terrorism in the name of brinkmanship, which General Beg reportedly considers his specialty. Here's my Facebook Live video.

I didn't stop there. On December 16, 2020, I requested the Pakistan Army leadership on Facebook in the following words:

Please, Pakistan Army, save the remaining Pakistan from the shenanigans of the "Indian Generals of Pakistan Army," General Mirza Aslam Beg, General Rahimuddin Khan, General K M Arif, Lt-Gen Talat Masood (and their native stooges like Let-Gen Asad Durrani, his protege Gen Ashfaq Pervaez Kayani and gang). They'd partitioned our country on this day in 1971.

Journalists of 1960s & '70s feel sorry for not being brave enough to tell the truth of the time to the public, as a result Pakistan disintegrated on December 16, 1971. That's why I'm writing the truth today under ISI sword!

Pakistan could've been saved if free flow of information was made possible by Gen Ayub Khan and Gen Yahya Khan.

It's time to stop the Kayani-Beg-led gang of retired generals from using race, religion & nationalism as weapons against humanity.

Stop new wave of planned terrorism to send home Prime Minister Imran Khan, and break the remaining country.

On December 25, 2020, the indirect answer to my appeal came from the Pakistan Army Chief in the following words: "No power on earth can undo Pakistan. 'Nation celebrates Quaid’s anniversary with great reverence and commitment upholding his message of hope, courage & confidence. Faith, Unity and Discipline shall always remain guiding principles of our great nation,' COAS."

No power on earth can undo #Pakistan. “Nation celebrates #Quaid’s anniversary with great reverence and commitment upholding his message of hope, courage & confidence. Faith, Unity and Discipline shall always remain guiding principles of our great nation”, COAS
— DG ISPR (@OfficialDGISPR) December 25, 2020

Saleem Samad — Bangladeshi award-winning journalist and Reporters Without Borders' correspondent — responded to my Facebook post in the following words:

"Nothing could have saved Bangladesh from getting its independence. No Hawks in Rawalpindi to could have stopped the bifurcation. Bangladesh independence was imminent today or tomorrow."

Besides intellectuals, policymakers and policy-implementors, my socialmedia posts sensitized the common people, too. I got many direct and indirect messages. As my name is on the ISI hitlist, therefore, they don't want to communicate with me publicly.

"Sleep-torture, kidnapping, enforced-disappearance, money-laundering, land-grabbing, mega corruption, organized terrorism, assassination and abuse of Islam in the name of brinkmanship are a legacy of the Indian Generals of Pakistan Army. Sadly, their groomed local stooges are carrying on the antipakistan policies in the Islamic Republic of Pakistan."

This is what another ex-serviceman says in a long message, mixture of Urdu and English. Calling himself Allah Ka Sepahi, he further explains the phrase, Indian Generals of Pakistan Army. I want to summarize his message so that you can use it as a key to understand the current pathetic condition of Pakistan and the Muslim World.

General Aslam Beg groomed General Kayani (left) through
his "stooge" ISI chief Lieutenant-General Asad Durrani (right).

When General Asif Nawaz Janjua was Army Chief, he wanted to break the powerful network of his predecessor, General Aslam Beg, but failed in doing so, because he got killed before completing his tenure.

General Beg wasn't ready to leave the premises of the Army House in Rawalpindi. There was a cold-war between the two generals. General Beg had publicly declared himself an Urdu-speaking Muhajir but in his close circle of FRIENDS (organization), he'd declared himself the Turkic Mughal King of the 20th century. He'd nicknamed the native generals of the Pakistan Army as DG or Dungar Generals (cattle-generals). This had made General Junjua angry, and he'd publicly shown pride in his Punjabi inheritance.

14) "Gen Aslam Beg in his close circle calls generals from Punjab DG or dungar (cattle) general & boosts himself as founder of MQM."
— THE TERRORLAND (@Theterrorland) August 4, 2015

"It was none other than former Army Chief Asif Nawaz Junjua who'd coined the phrase 'Indian General of Pakistan Army' for General Aslam Beg," the ex-serviceman claims. "It led to General Junjua's assassination. General Aslam Beg killed both his predecessor and successor through ISI. Then started the era of stooge army chiefs, who kept bowing to General Beg until his groomed man, General Ashfaq Parvez Kayani, dethroned him (General Beg)... But the selfstyled Mughal King is still active through networks of his family, FRIENDS, proteges and the ISI..."

General Beg used and abused ISI chiefs, especially Lieutenant-General Hamid Gul and Lieutenant-General Asad Durrani. According to the ex-serviceman, General Beg groomed General Pervez Musharraf through Lieutenant-General Hamid Gul and used Lieutenant-General Asad Durrani to groom General Ashfaq Parvez Kayani...

"General Beg used and deceived General Gul before killing him, too," he adds. "Actually, General Beg had accused General Gul's great-grandfather of provoking Syed Ahmad Shaheed for the Battle of Balakot before fleeing to Sargodha. This kind of mental torture caused brain hemorrhage to the self-respecting General Hamid Gul..."

A photograph of General Mirza Aslam Beg and his wife,
published for the first time. Pic by Abdullah Gul.

Actually, the ex-serviceman claims that Lieutenant-General Hamid Gul had said that General Asif Nawaz Janjua was right in declaring General Aslam Beg an Indian Generals of Pakistan Army. Someone gave its recording to General Beg who called General Gul and commented about his family background which mentally tortured him, General Gul.

I contacted Lieutenant-General Hamid Gul's son Abdullah Gul in this regard who used three phrases: "just nonsense", "utter nonsense" and "wrong information".

Meanwhile, a former office-bearer of the Pakistan Ex-Servicemen Association has claimed that, as an undercover agent, General Beg had an agreement with the RAW, India's external intelligence agency, to destroy every Pakistani institution from within by using ISI, MQM, FRIENDS and other networks, so that the Islamic Republic collapses under its own weight. As a reward for this catastrophic plan, the Indian Congress Party leadership had agreed to bring General Beg back to India and elect him to the office of the President of India (like Dr Zakir Hussain who was the uncle of General Rahimuddin Khan, Pakistan's Gentleman Cadet One and former boss of General Beg). In a message, the former office-bearer says that General Beg's dream of becoming India's President got shattered when the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) took over power.

I went to meet General Mirza Aslam Beg, not just for an interview but also for condolence as his wife has reportedly passed away. However, armed military men didn't allow me to meet him. Someone told me to go to his confidants — former COAS General Abdul Waheed Kakar or former ISI chief Lieutenant-General Nadeem Taj — but the military men on duty didn't allow me again.

If the generals mentioned in my blog, or their families, want to give their point of view, I'm ready to publish their "correct information" without any bias. As an independent journalist, with focus on politics, I respect all of them even if I don't agree with their points of view.

For the current military leadership, especially CJCSC General Nadeem Raza and COAS General Qamar Javed Bajwa, I've the same advice which I'd posted on my Facebook years ago:

ISI ex-chief Gen Ziauddin Butt recently told TV that the current breed of generals in the Pakistan Army is far better than his generation of generals. He declared some of his former colleagues "Jahil Gernal)" or ignorant generals.
Gen Butt's statement is now part of public debate!
Aslam Beg & Ashfaq Kayani are ignorant-generals but why current generals are better?
Probably, it's due to the digitalage revolution!
Also, efforts of Gen Raheel Sharif, Gen Qamar Bajwa & Gen Hidayatur Rehman as IG Training & Evaluation!
Gen Butt's statemnt has provided an opportunity for Pakistan Army leadership to go through self-accountability intellectually!
Generals must get out of horrible shadows of Gen Mirza Aslam Beg & Gen Ashfaq Parvez Kayani!

GHQ silent after meetings, ISI sleep-torture worsens

2021-01-02T04:25:00.003+05:00

By Habib Sulemani

In response to my 15 evidences of ISI sleep-torture, the generals have gone crazy. ISI undercover-agents used to hammer my house-walls at the top of each hour. But now they're doing it multiple times during an hour when I'm sleeping at night or taking a nap in the day. The situation aggravated when I responded to political tweets on the variegated Twitter!

In a tweeted video that appeared on my news-feed, Member National Assembly Khawaja Asif demands for accountability of the godlike generals while speaking on the floor of the Parliament. He names two former army-chiefs: one is dead and the other lives in exile. So, I tweeted: "Khawaja M Asif stopped it at harmless Pervez Musharraf, didn't dare to name Gen Kayani & his gang! Who will do it in Senate of Pakistan & National Assembly of Pakistan, or outside? Do you Imran Khan, Nawaz Sharif, Bilawal Bhutto Zardari, Maryam N Sharif?

@KhawajaMAsif stopped it at harmless @P_Musharraf, didn't dare to name Gen Kayani & his gang! Who in Pakistan will do it in @SenatePakistan & @NAofPakistan or outside? Do you @ImranKhanPTI @NawazSharifMNS @BBhuttoZardari @MaryamNSharif? #StopISI #JusticeForAll #KhwajaAsif
— Habib Sulemani 🌲 (@HabibSulemani) December 30, 2020

Hours later, when the ISI agents on both sides of my house didn't let me sleep, I went on Twitter and responded to a tweet of a member of parliament. "Prime Minister. Allah-willing." This caption in Urdu was with a picture of Maryam Nawaz Sharif, daughter of three-time disgracefully deposed prime minister Nawaz Sharif. I responded in these words: "...And then face the same humiliation from Gen Aslam Beg & Gen Kayani gangs... That's what Benazir Bhutto & Nawaz Sharif faced as prime ministers... Remember this Maryam N Sharif, if ISI replaces you with PM Imran Khan! You too, Bilawal BhuttoZardari!"

...And then face the same humiliation from Gen Aslam Beg & Gen Kayani gangs... That's what Benazir Bhutto & @NawazSharifMNS faced as prime ministers... Remember this @MaryamNSharif, if ISI replaces you with PM @ImranKhanPTI! You too, @BBhuttoZardari! #StopISI
— Habib Sulemani 🌲 (@HabibSulemani) December 30, 2020

The sleep-torture has became worst with the arrival of 2021. As it's become a useless exercise for me to go to the local police station or call the Police Helpline 15. So, I publicly informed the authorities in what situation I was on the last night of 2020. I tweeted: "First it was hourly, but after the publication of my blog, the hammering has become multiple times an hour... Hammering continues... Where to go? Rawalpindi Police can't stop ISI.. GHQ is silent after two meetings..."

🔨 continues... Where to go? @RwpPolice can't stop ISI.. GHQ is silent after two meetings... #StopISI #SleepTorture @OfficialDGISPR
— Habib Sulemani 🌲 (@HabibSulemani) December 30, 2020

As my house is in the middle of the houses of Javed Ilyas Awan, Syed Jawad Abbas Kazmi, Manzoor Ahmed Kayani, Saad Zeb and others. So, ISI uses their houses and abuses them while depriving me of sleep. The four-story "rented out" house of Syed Jawad Abbas Kazmi, a police officer, has become the center of sleep-torture. ISI undercover-agents Khursheed Ahmed Khan, Asghar and Ghazanfar control the building and inhabitants, especially the ones living on the ground and first floors. In the following video I'm showing how ISI uses the houses around my house to deprive me of sleep.

After dinner and lunch, ISI uses different kinds of tricks to not let me sleep. It was midnight when some street-urchins were brought outside my room to play the role of hooligans under the guise of playing cricket. In the following Facebook live video, watch them and listen to my appeal to the military, from sepoy to army-chief, to stop ISI from torturing me, the brother of a martyred soldier of Pakistan Army.

15 evidences of ISI sleep-torture

2020-12-29T20:42:00.066+05:00

By Habib Sulemani

Scorching summer or freezing winter, the sleep-torture schedule of the Inter-Services Intelligence (ISI) remains mathematical and unchanged. This year, the fasting of Ramazan met the lockdown of coronavirus. But nothing stopped the sleep-torture that I'm facing for years in Rawalpindi. Rather it got intensified as ISI agents used sleep-torture to damage my immune system so that, after the earlier coronavirus attack on me, I become vulnerable again...

In the previous blog, I'd written about the systematic ISI sleep-torture in detail. I'd presented copies of my applications to the police and their rejections. In another post, I'd shown with evidence how helplessness the police are to take legal action against those powerful generals and intelligence officers who abuse their power by torturing an independent journalist, poet and writer, like me.

In this post, I'm providing 15 evidences of the ongoing sleep-torture that I'm facing right now in the Garrison Capital of Pakistan. These evidences are some of the irrefutable Facebook Live videos that I'd recorded for the police, as nobody is ready to stand witness against the godlike generals and ruthless officers of the premier spy-agency of the Islamic Republic.

In these videos, my neighbor Javed Ilyas Awan is a key character. People call "ISI Chief" in the neighborhood. He's strong "connections" in the ISI Sector Office at D-474, Satellite Town Rawalpindi. So, I interviewed him live as he mentioned Captain Khurram and other ISI officers, who lived in his house as "tenants" or came to "talk" to him about me...

Using bugging and other ISI-given devices, Javed Awan (along with his sons Haroon Awan and Ibrahim Awan) monitors me day and night inside my small house in the narrowed alley. Whenever I'm sleeping at night or taking a nap in the day, the ISI team applies sleep-torture tactics on me. The main timings of sleep-torture are soon after lunch and dinner (It's worth a separate blog).

ISI Director Research and Analysis Major-General Ahmed Mahmood Hayat supervises the sleep-torture from the ISI Headquarters in Islamabad, with technical input from former ISI chief Lieutenant-General Naveed Mukhtar... Captain Khurram commands the torturers from D-474. Undercover agents, including Khursheed Ahmed Khan, Asghar and Ghazanfer of Khoshab (who live next-door as "tenants" of police officer Syed Jawad Abbas Kazmi) do the job on ground directly...

ISI uses my poor neighbors against me at gunpoint in this regard. After Javed Awan and sons, Saad Zeb and Shoaib Kayani are being used as key weapons for depriving me of sleep. Here are the evidences:

Evidence 1: Hammering Walls & Roof

If you're familiar with my social media posts, especially Twitter and Facebook, you may have seen me talking a million times about hammering! What's hammering? Here's the practical answer. Just listen:

It was 4:48 AM when this hammering started outside my bedroom. I started Facebook Live so that police officers can see it practically what I'd been explaining to them verbally. Similar disturbing sounds I hear routinely at the top of every hour at nights, especially from Javed Awan side as his son Haroon is kept awake all night to give report to the ISI safehouse via WhatsApp.

Hammering my wall, roof, gasline or door is the most favorite sleep-torture trick of ISI operatives on both sides of my house in D-Block, Satellite Town, Rawalpindi. Some nights beating drums and slamming doors are used as alternatives to hammering. Slight but ictic tic-tic sound goes on outside my bedroom throughout some nights. Now, just imagine! What would happen to you if you faced this kind of systematic sleep-torture day and night for years?

Evidence 2: Gunfire

Like in this live video, thudding guns at night are often soon after my tweet or Facebook post about General Kayani's son Sarosh Kayani, or the gang of retired generals that's taken the whole country hostage, including Pakistan Army and ISI. Sometimes the neighborhood looks like a battleground when ISI and Kayani Youth Force goons take control of the rooftops in the houses between Alfurqan Mosque and D-474.

Evidence 3: Firework

The firework tactic was started in 2015 by General Kayani's old friend Ashraf Shah and sons in the backstreet. (People say that, after the Kayani Youth Force, personal militia of General Kayani, Ashraf Shah runs the strongest ISI network in the neighborhood) Since then use of firework, normally after 10 PM, is also a routine trick of ISI sleep-torture, as seen in this live video at 11:07 PM. Firework can be used in the day and night when other tricks don't work for the given time! I'd written during this live video:

Today the day-shift of ISI sleep-torture started at 6:45 AM with Javed Awan's cab-door slamming and hammering my door from Jawad Abbas' side (to make an illusion of the two). All day the ISI-handlers kept Javed Awan and his sons Haroon and Ibrahim busy to not let me rest as they monitor me 24/7 and report to Maj-Gen Ahmed Mahmood Hayat of ISI. Around 10 PM ,the night-shift started with gunfire from the side of D-474. Then Haroon Awan's silencerless bike came into action. Then Javed Awan's honking horn began at 11 AM. Plus bucket-banging as pretentious late-night washing starts. Now the firework along gunfire has started, see Facebook live. I don't know when it'll end? Captain Khurram of ISI leads the night operation. Poor Awans are being abused at gunpoint. Stop it, Pakistan Army, if you are powerful than Gen Kayani-Hayat brothers!

Evidence 4: Earthshaking Waterpump

ISI operatives use this empty water pump as a tool of sleep-torture. When they make it sure that I'm sleeping at night or taking a nap in the day, this water-pump runs next-door, shaking my house, terrestrially. It was started in 2017 by ISI veteran Asadullah of Kohat and his undercover sons Samiullah and Kalimullah.

Evidence 5: Children Abused

ISI abuses children, aged three to 12 by using them as tools of sleep-torture. Usually it's done from 10 PM to 2 AM. In the following Facebook live video, I'm talking to an ISI handler of the poor children who are crying as they've been taken out of bed to make noises. The ISI guy says that he's not afraid of the police!

Evidence 6: Carpentry & Repairwork

Pretentious carpentry and repairwork outside my bedroom, especially at late-nights, is a key part of ISI sleep-torture tactics. This trick goes on until the persons, who monitor me, are sure that I've awoken to the sound of carpentry. They make it sure when I go to the bathroom or kitchen. Or ISI Cyberwing sees my online presence!

Evidence 7: Honking Horn & Slamming House Doors

The ISI sector commander at D-474 has given silencerless bikes and noisy cars to some of my younger neighbors. They're told to use them outside my house when the guys, who monitor my activities inside my home, are sure that I'm resting. So, honking horns and slamming doors are favorite sleep-torture tactics of ISI.

Evidence 8: Slamming Car Doors

It's 1:13 AM. The neighbor at the corner bangs the doors of the "strategic car" in his possession! This Facebook live missed the early huge bangs. This is a routine at nights. It can happen once or many times a night. The neighbor does it whenever he gets orders from the ISI duty-officer (via smartphone). Each time he comes out of his home with sleepy-eyes, opens and closes the car-doors for five to 10 times, as the ISI officer watches him from the third floor of Jawad Abbas' building.

Evidence 9: Slamming Iron Gates

It's 1 AM. My lights were off, internet off and I was in bed ready to record the next step of sleep-torture. Thinking me asleep, the ISI guy on duty slammed the next-door iron gate. When I went live on Facebook, it stopped as the Cyberwing of ISI informed him. The iron gates of Javed Awan, Saad Zeb and Jawad Abbas are key tools of ISI sleep-torture.

Evidence 10: Policeman's House is Torturecell

It's 1:30 AM and ISI hooligans in the next-door house of police officer, SHO Syed Jawad Abbas Kazmi, are busy since 10 PM. They stopped making noises as I went live on Facebook. Actually, they're shopkeepers from the nearby Rabi Center. As they come home tired to take rest, D-474 sends the hooligans who take control of the house.Through a Subedar of Pakistan Army, ISI uses innocent Pashtun businessmen and students as hooligans in my neighborhood. They have been brought on both sides of my house, on the ground floors of the houses of Javed Awan and Jawad Abbas.

Evidence 11: Torture Team Flees

Lights off. Internet off. Thus, considering me asleep, ISI torture team on bikes arrived in my neighborhood. I went out on my terrace and started this Facebook live. D-474 called them and they ran away immediately, as seen in this video. But an hour later they were back, slamming, banging and doing hullaballoo to not let me sleep.

Evidence 12: Javed Awan's Testimony

It was nearly 1 AM. Considering me asleep, the hooligans in the building of policeman Jawad Abbas had gone crazy! I went out to talk to them on Facebook Live. But they fled away. However, Javed Awan, who was still awake, talked to me live from his terrace, saying that his "tenants" were silent tonight, but the "tenants" of Guddo (mother of the policeman) were making noises every night.

Evidence 14: Loud Music & TV

Loud music and TV shows all night are one of the sleep-torture tactics of ISI. The officer on duty keeps my neighbors awake with loud music or television. They don't stop until D-474 orders them via WhatsApp.

Evidence 15: Auto Workshop, Scraps & ISI Officers

On getting orders from Captain Khurram of ISI, who has lived in his house under the guise of a tenant, Javed Awan often starts an auto workshop outside my room in the alley. For this purpose, he uses his cab or any of the two bikes of his sons. He's also collected auto scrapes on the first floor of his house, just a couple of feet away from my bedroom, and uses them to make loud noises day and night.

Here in this Facebook Live, I talk to Javed Awan in my polite way and he talks roughly, as he's forced to do by his ISI handler Captain Khurram. Mr Awan refuses to answer why he's being called "ISI Chief" in the neighborhood. However, he declares me a "lunatic" and accuses me of walking against Pakistan Army and ISI, threatening me of ruthless action! He says ISI officers visit him and ask about me (the author of this blog). Watch it now:

If you've watched it, now read my first application to the police to understand the whole scene, especially the way ISI has taken Javed Awan and his family hostage! They remain at home all day and night. Investigators ask me about their sources income and foreign tours etc... I advise them to ask the Awans or the ISI directly.

Now read the letter here.

Police can't stop ISI from subjecting me to sleep-torture

2020-12-26T22:03:00.027+05:00

By Habib Sulemani

ISI uses the inhabitants of the houses on both sides
of my house in this alley to deprive me of sleep.

My family members couldn't bear the systematic torture. So, they silently took refuge in the wild mountains of Hunza and Gilgit. But I refused to leave the city and country. Since 2018, I'm living alone in my family-home in Rawalpindi, the Garrison Capital of Pakistan.

My tiny family-home is in the middle of the houses of Javed Ilyas Awan, Syed Jawad Abbas Kazmi, Manzoor Ahmed Kayani, Saad Zeb and others. Thus General Ashfaq Parvez Kayan (for exposing his corruption during his tenure as Pakistan Army Chief) turned my family-home into a torturecell for me. Since then General Kayani's son Sarosh Kayani and nephews along undercover spies of the Inter-Services Intelligence (ISI) are torturing me.

The ISI uses some of my neighbors to deprive me of sleep systematically. Working in three shifts, they deprive me of sleep seven days a week and twelve months a year. After failed attempts on my life, the premier spy-agency does it so that I leave the country. A colonel-led team controls the 24/7 shifts of torturers (via WhatsApp network) from the nearby ISI sector office at House No. 474, D block, Satellite Town, Rawalpindi.

You can't imagine how torturous my days and nights have become, especially in the Age of Coronavirus. However, here in this blog post, I want to give you an abstract idea of the years-long sleep torture. First, let me inform you about the last 24 house of my life at home.

Till 10 PM, boys were brought outside my house to pretend playing cricket but keep hitting the door...

At 11 PM, the family on my left made loud noises; then started the firework and firing from the ISI safehouse at D-474...

At 12 AM, the family on my right started beating drum...

At 1 AM the guy from the back banged the doors of his car 10 times while looking at his smartphone for next orders...

At 2 AM, the guy on my extreme left beat a drum...

At 3 AM, drum beating from my right...

At 4 AM, the same drum beating from the same side...

At 5 AM, same...

At 6 AM, same...

AT 7 AM, noisy cleaning work with banging of scrapes starts and ends at 9 AM...

At 10 AM, pretentious repair work starts in the next house and continues for two hours...

At 12 PM, I go to my terrace for a December sunbath and the repair work stops...

After lunch when I start a nap the repair work starts again at 3 PM...

At 5 PM, banging from time to time on the left and back sides...

At 6 PM, the boys start playing noisily, banging doors...

At 8 PM, fireworks and firing start...

At 9 AM, the operative-on-bike starts roaming the neighborhood...

At 10 PM, as I'm still awake and going to publish this blog post, the torturers are anxiously waiting for me to go to bed so that their satanic job begins...

The same hourly disturbances (with a little bit change) would be repeated even tonight and every other night again and again.... That's why I'd written on my Facebook page on December 16, 2020 at 9:36 PM:

My broadband & cellphone remained blocked last night as ISI teams around my house continued sleep torture all night and all day in shifts.

As the night gets darker, right now I can hear my torturers getting closer with their pretentious tricks. They're preparing to continue their routine job for which they get paid. (Some of them are ISI regular employees others are ghost-employees of Pakistan Army.)

"Today you've written a lot about the Indian generals of Pakistan Army and their native stooges on Facebook," says someone from my neighborhood. "Tonight Khursheed (next door ISI officer) wouldn't let us sleep along with you! Why are you torturing us, Brother?"

I'm so sorry for whatever ISI is doing to you all for being my neighbors.

Instead of Gen Kayani and his family, ISI wants to scapegoat my neighbors! My family is in Gilgit & my neighbors are my family. Don't touch them!

On the same night, before they blocked my internet and cellphone, I'd given this update on Twitter at 10:47 PM · Dec 16, 2020:

Firing starts from ISI area office street: D-474, Satellite Town, Rawalpindi. ISI teams on both sides of my house are waiting for me to go to bed to start their hourly banging. If my internet & phone ain't blocked, I'll update this thread. Good night, you lucky guys there.

E) Firing starts from ISI area office street: D-474, Satellite Town, Rawalpindi. ISI teams on both sides of my house are waiting for me to go to bed to start their hourly banging. If my internet & phone ain't blocked, I'll update this thread. Good night, you lucky guys there. 🌐
— Habib Sulemani 🌲 (@HabibSulemani) December 16, 2020

It maybe shocking for you! But this is my lifestyle! For being an independent journalist, poet and writer, ISI is subjecting me to physical and mental torture for over a decade. I've written about the physical torture in my previous blog post. Here I want to inform you briefly about the ongoing systematic mental torture in the form of sleep-torture.

ISI started the systematic sleep-torture with the beginning of my eight years of incarceration in 2010. However, when Lieutenant-General Naveed Mukhtar became the Director-General of ISI on December 11, 2016, the sporadic sleep-torture became a 24/7 warfare game against me. Besides neighbors, ISI also used some family members at gunpoint in this regard...

During the incarceration, I couldn't do anything. But after the end of it, I went to the New Town Police Station, Rawalpindi, many times but they failed to stop the systematic sleep torture of the spy-agency. Though the police had been reluctant to accept any application against army officers and ISI agents. However, I ignored the threats from ISI and submitted many applications to the police this year: 2020. In my first detailed application to the police, I'd written on April 14, 2020:

General Kayani’s son (Sarosh Kayani) is using sleep-torture as an assassination tactic and his teams has not let me sleep for the last three days. Please save my life.

My family is in Gilgit and I live alone in Rawalpindi. My house is surrounded by the houses of Jawad Abbas Kazmi, Javed Ilyas Awan, Saad Zeb, Manzoor Ahmed Kayani and others. So, I have become an easy target for ISI. Perpetrators hammer my walls, throw bricks at my roof, bang my windows, hit my gas and water lines, run empty water-pump to make noise at night, do pretentious repair-work at odd hours, slam doors, honk horns and start loud music when I am sleeping. They use hooligans, silencerless bikes, firecrackers, gunfire and do other nasty things 24 hours a day and seven days a week.

Officers from D-474 keep Javed Awan, his sons and “tenants” awake from one side while the ISI-Dawn team works from the other side to not let me sleep. They work day and night in three shifts. Some other neighbors are also forced to facilitate ISI actors round the clock. A couple of neighbors, including Javed Awan, were beaten brutally for not succeeding in given tasks…

How did ISI took control of the building next to my house and turned it into a torturecell? I'd explained it in the aforementioned application in the following words:

Under the surveillance of C-130 military aircraft, one day JKB Constructions (a company of the Kayani Brothers) forcefully took control of policeman Syed Jawad Abbas Kazmi’s building, extending it by demolishing the safetywall of my house. The four-story building was turned into ISI torturecell by encroaching on my terrace. Mr Kazmi was forced to attack me when I was attending my father who had just returned from the Combined Military Hospital after brain surgery. I did not react, knowing what the Kayanis had planned! So, out of frustration, Brigadier Amjad Kayani sent Mr Kazmi to jail in a fake case, and I was poisoned by the ISI Medicaldeath Squad (led by Mrs Babar Kayani, a doctor and sister-in-law of General Kayani).

Then General Kayani stationed his trusted ISI veteran (Asadullah with his undercover-agent sons Samiullah and Kalimullah) on the second-floor while General Kayani's strategic ally Zaffar Abbas brought in an employee of the Dawn Media Group (Farooq Tahir along with his young sons) on the first-floor of Mr Kazmi’s building-turned-torturecell.

When two horrifying plans of the Kayani-Abbas brothers failed, (on ISI Medicaldeath Squad's recommendation) the ISI-Dawn joint team started depriving me of sleep.

Director ISI Research and Analysis Wing Major-General Ahmed Mahmood Hayat (one of General Kayani’s protégés) invited some students (residing in my neighborhood) to D-474. First he used the stick-strategy to make them total-submissive and then used the carrot-strategy to provoke them to commit crime with patriotic zest.

“We have separated Habib Sulemani from his family and rest of the society,” Major-General Hayat told them, reportedly. “The traitor may face nervous-breakdown or starve to death in loneliness! To make our next plan successful, you must cooperate with our officers on duty in depriving him of sleep. If he complains, declare him a lunatic and people will believe you, because you are in a big number while he is all alone. Democracy must win, boys!”

A student quoted Major-General Hayat as saying: “Gather guttersnipes outside Habib Sulemani’s house and let them call him lunatic. If the word lunatic echoed in his ears from all directions, due to sleeplessness and hallucinations, he would certainly go crazy or do crazy things that would justify a fatal attack on him! If nothing like that happens then he may die of sleeplessness-related health complications. Sleep-torture is the worst slow-poisoning that destroys a person's immune system. It is also the safest way to get rid of the traitor without going to jail. You must do it, boys, to enjoy rest of your lives as heroes.”

General Kayani’s son Sarosh Kayani was also present on the occasion. He reportedly announced prizes for the students, saying: “If mission completed, you would get houses in DHA (Defence Housing Authority of Pakistan Army) and a wonderful visit to our family ranch in Australia, or my cousins will provide you immigrant visas to Canada...”

When undercover-agents, professional criminals and my neighbors couldn’t yield the desired result, Major-General Hayat appointed Captain Khurram, a uniformed ISI officer, as operational-commander in my neighborhood. Captain Khurram came as (next-door) “tenant” on the ground-floor of taxidriver Javed Awan’s three-story building. Captain Khurram fixed bugging devices to monitor me inside my three-story house and started systematic sleep-torture on me. He continued roaming the neighborhood with a smartphone in hand, giving and receiving orders through WhatsApp.

Captain Khurram took Javed Awan, his respectful sons Haroon Awan and Ibrahim Awan as hostages. The polite behavior of the Awans became truculent. People nicknamed Javed Awan as ISI Chief. After a brief disappearance Haroon Awan reappeared with the news that he was on a visit to the United Arab Emirates (UAE). A “tenant” said that General Kayani had sent Haroon abroad to meet his brother Major Kamran Kayani (who had fled the country to escape arrest in the DHA corruption case). Kamran Kayani repeated what Haroon had already heard in Pakistan: “Kill the traitor, and we’ll take you out of jail on grounds of drug and mental health!”

Then Haroon made the announcement of getting a “job” at the GHQ. “First he was made heroin-addict and now given a gun with an unconvincing job in the Pakistan Army,” a neighbor commented. “Haroon does not go to the GHQ and stays home day and night,” a man told me. “You openly write and talk about army and ISI officers—the ISI-wala maybe planning to use Haroon and his family against you—be careful—the secret agency works very secretly!”

General Kayani utilizes state and nonstate machineries against me as if I am an enemy state, not a justice-seeking citizen. Teams of uniformed officers and undercover agents around me change from time to time but ISI methods of persecution remain unchanged.

Unfortunately, the New Town Police Station neither registered a case against the named accused (General Ashfaq Parvez Kayani, his son Sarosh Kayani, his brother Major Kamran Kayani, his associates Major-General Athar Abbas and Zaffar Abbas of daily Dawn) nor stopped the ongoing systematic sleep-torture.

With the arrival of the Age of Coronavirus, the sleep-torture reached its climax. I'd survived a coronavirus attack of ISI in March 2020. But undercover-agents kept targeting my immune system by depriving me of sleep. After the Sarosh Kayani-led attack on me, sleep-tortured got intensified. I called the Police Helpline 15 a couple of times. They came instantly but couldn't bring the ISI operatives to justice. The policemen were surprised to see me, a single man, trying to stop the abuse of godlike generals! They showed their helplessness and went away while praying for my well-being in Pakistan!

On August 15, 2020, I went to the Station House Officer (SHO) of the New Town Police Station in Rawalpindi with this specific application:

Subinspector Khudadad Majeed called me at the New Town Police Station a couple of days later. I told him the whole story of sleep-torture. Then on August 25, 2020, I got this SMS of rejection from the Rawalpindi Police:

معزز درخواست دہندہ: آپکو مطلع کیا جاتا ہے کہ آپکی درخواست نمبری NT-8/15/2020-2803 آفیسر خداداد مجید SI 03455910126 کی جانب سے دی گئی رپورٹ جسکا مختصر خلاصہ سائل کی درخواست پر دریافت عمل میں لائی گئی ہے کسی بھی قسم کا جرم قابل دست اندازی کا نہ ہونا پایا گیا ہے. درخواست داخل دفتر کی جائے ہے،پر داخل دفتر کر دی گئی ہے.

On September 21, 2020, when due to sleeplessness I was near to collapse and die unnoticed at home, I submitted the following new application to the New Town Police Station.

The same day Subinspector Imran Mughal with a police team came to me. I showed them the neighborhood. I took Mr Mughal to each floor, showing what the ISI operatives do to deprive me of sleep. Mr Mughal held secret meeting with ISI officers Khursheed Ahmed Khan, Asghar and Ghazanfer. Then Mr Mughal told me that the police can't do anything in this case and I should go to a court of law.

An ISI undercover said that even courts can't do anything!

The next day, on September 22, 2020, I got this ambiguous SMS of rejection from the Rawalpindi Police:

معزز درخواست دہندہ : آپکی درخواست نمبری NT-9/21/2020-3254 آپکے مطمئن نہ ہونے پر SHO Javed Iqbal Mirza [03097770724] کو assign کر دی گئی ہے۔ شکریہ۔

Then I got a phone call from the New Town Police Station. I showed my disappointment as the sleep-torture had further increased. Then I got another SMS, saying that my case had been sent to the Inspector General Police (IGP). I was told to contact the IGP complaint cell at the given phone number: 8787. But that number never ever picked my call.

معزز درخواست دہندہ : آپکی درخواست نمبری NT-9/21/2020-3254 آپکے غیر مطمئن ہونے پر IGP PCC کو مارک کر دی گئی ہے مزید تفصیلات کےلیے 8787 پر رابطہ کریں۔ شکریہ۔

I'm continuously dialing @OfficialDPRPP PCC number. Whenever I call Inspector Genetal Punjab Police (IGP), as I was told by @RwpPolice, I hear a lady talking in Chinese.

I don't know China has inveded Punjab, or IGP has brought China under CM Punjab @UsmanAKBuzdar's domain!?
— Habib Sulemani 🌲 (@HabibSulemani) September 28, 2020

Unfortunately, the police (from the SHO to IGP) failed to help me. I was told that they can't do anything against the army officers, their family members and actors of the premier spy-agency.

Now, to give you a complete sense of the systematic sleep torture of ISI practically, let me show you some latest posts from my social media accounts. Please, watch the following Facebook Live video. I'm showing how a gang of generals and journalists deprives me of sleep in the neighborhood. On seeing the live video, an undercover-agent rushed to the neighborhood from the ISI Sector Commander's Office (D-474). I was able to catch him on camera and talked to him live! Since then I've never seen him in the neighborhood. Nowadays, ISI officers Khursheed Ahmed Khan, Asghar and Ghazanfer live in the building and control the whole neighborhood!

Since 10 PM loud music & hammering was going on from my neighbor Manzoor Ahmed Kayani's side. At 2 AM I called Police Helpline 15. Now I knocked at his door & his son Shuaib Kayani excused. It's 3:30 AM. #ISI #SleepTorture
— Habib Sulemani 🌲 (@HabibSulemani) July 26, 2020

Sleep torture of the night starts. There was a hammering from Javed Awan's side. I've registered yet another complain at Police Helpline 15. @Rporwp @OfficialDPRPP
— Habib Sulemani 🌲 (@HabibSulemani) August 14, 2020

During my 17 years stay in this neighborhood, I've treated my neighbors as aunts, brothers, sisters, sons & daughters. ISI wants to ruin it.
— Habib Sulemani 🌲 (@HabibSulemani) July 10, 2017