Beardos all over

I look for physical change in Pakistan every time I pay a visit there. I am aware that my superficial assessment is not an accurate measure for judging social and material progress, but given the little time and crippling heat I am faced with during my time there, I rely mostly on what my eyes could digest to see where Pakiland is headed.

This time: lots of cars... too many actually - hmmm, extra disposable income? Good for the economy, not good for a drive around! Or maybe a booming population? That's part of it. Or as a friend mentioned, a complete absence of any viable alternative mode of transportation? Uh oh, can someone please wake up the mass transit program!

Whatever the reason, I was setting new records in reaching the airport from my DHA residence.

And Mr. Mustafa Kamal, Sir, your signal-free Sharah-e-Faisal is not much of a help. There is something called 'congestion,' which we in America suffer from daily on the signal-free East Coast beltway. Time for a more innovative solution. Look to Bangkok's Skytrain, please, or perhaps even our beloved Delhi's Metro. If Calcutta can have a mass-transit system, then we Karachiites might as well jump into the sea not being capable enough of putting up one, or deserving one.

What else? The billboards were missing, thanks to the storm that struck a week before I arrived and blew up away the ugly metal sheets, which in turn struck many and tragically killed scores. Poverty? Ummm, not much difference. Mr. Shaukat Aziz needs new convoluted formulas to justify his fascinations on that one. New restaurants? That haute cuisine crowd seems to have moved on from the filet mignons to cocktail parties on Korangi rooftops. But I did enjoy the New Yorkish suave ambience during dinner at Limoncello and the sizzling brownies at Cafe Coffee Day, an Indian coffee chain. Perhaps the Indians will allow us a pass with a tiny Agha's Juice Spot in Mumbai soon. Sadly, that's all we seem to have to reciprocate with at the moment.

But most strangely, I saw a lot of beards. Tons of them, in all varieties. The impenetrable, thick, bushy ones; the scrawny and scraggy, seldom-shaved ones; the flourescent orange, henna-dyed ones; even the peach fuzz-turned-lint types that puzzle the mind on whether they can be called beards at all. Most of them, of course, came with the moustaches missing.

And dont even get me started on the burqas. Even 14th century Japanese ninjas allowed a wider eye opening in the interest of being capable of at least walking in a straight line. But flowing in long, black burqas - the expensive designer silk ones covered in heavily embroidered shiny sequins (so much for Islam's punch line for modesty in dress) - Pakistan's new found religious flamboyance seems to have taken the women for a ride too. And yes, how can one forget to mention the contribution of the Jamia Hafsa-Lal Masjid enterprise in this new raging fashion lineup. I am sure Paris would kill to know the secret from the Jamia ladies (or could there be men in those burqas too? Hey, you never know!) on how their captivating catwalks to massage parlors enamored (or scared) so many into adding a burqa to their wardrobes.

In any case, a 'holier than thou' competition seems to have been raging across Karachi this summer. And one can only keep wondering what is driving this pettiness. Varying interpretations of Islamic injunctions on dress notwithstanding, it is worthy that so many want to adopt a physical appearance that ostensibly brings them closer to God. But the problem lies in the hypocrisy that hides under the facial hair and black chadors. A simple test provides an insight: can I trust someone with a beardful and moustache-less display of religiosity that he would not cheat me, shortchange me or lie to my clean-shaven face? Would the modesty of a burqa eventually reveal in private a woman who is not bedecked in ill-gotten jewellery, heavy make-up and a relentless urge to spit some venom on her companions?

Granted that this question would likely return in the negative for a good number of the clean-shaven and sleeveless lot. But that lot at least does not present themselves as the epitome of piety to begin with. And this is exactly where the crux of the problem lies: these beard and burqas have become unchallengeable tools of mass deception by habitual cheaters, liars and scandalizers in presenting an outwardly appearance of humbleness and piety, when in reality there is nothing but an unworthy character lurking underneath that doesn't take too long to show.

I returned to New York this week thinking whether this tide of beards and burqas could ever be turned. Rather difficult it seems, I fear to conclude. This flaunting of artificial piety will continue until no one can deny the dark and hairy hypocrisy, and when the beardos have throughly discredited themselves. That realization might one day lead to a society that has not necessarily adopted the 7th century fashion sense but has instead learned that it is far more important to have a worthy brain, a good heart and an accommodating attitude than to masquerade in beards and burqas as someone who doesn't, in reality, deserve even a Muslim name.