Freedom in Limbo (Part 7): Clipping of the Wings

Fight or Flight
Nov 7 · 6 min read

To get national ID card — the proof of Pakistani citizenship — in order to get my first full-time job, I had to go to a regional NADRA center in Karachi with my birth certificate and other documents. It reminded me of the day when I accompanied my father to a local union council in Karachi, to get my birth certificate, when I was 9 years old (yes — my father got my birth certificate really late). The clerk asked my father about my religion and my father said, “Ahmadi Muslim”. The clerk stared back at my father with disgust but remained silent. I was expecting that the clerk would just write “Ahmadi” but the day we went back to receive the birth certificate, I remember my father arguing with the clerk about why he wrote “Qadianiat”, instead of “Ahmadiyya”.

Eight years later, after living so densely surrounded by Ahmadis in Rabwah, I felt like being back in a jungle. On my way to regional NADRA center, I remember hiding my birth certificates and other educational documents which mentioned Rabwah or Chenab Nagar (the official name of Rabwah changed to offend Ahmadis).

Karachi is a city of almost 25 million so it was no surprise that even a local branch of NADRA was so full of people. However, that was making me extremely nervous. I was praying in my heart that no clerk inside would ask me about my religion. When I went inside on my turn, it was an open office with people going through different clerks in a line. My very first biometric (finger prints), then a signature and then I had to go to a clerk who sat infront of a computer with an empty form on the screen. He asked me for my birth certificate and filled in the computer form based on the information mentioned on it. When he reached to the “religion” dropdown on his screen, my heart started beating fast. Out of habit, he selected “Islam”. I felt frozen but as he moved on to the fill the next fields, I whispered; “Ahmadi”. He shouted back, “I didn’t hear you”. My heart skipped a beat and I again whispered, “Ahmadi”. I tried to keep my voice low enough so other people in the office won’t hear. He listened and repeated in a loud voice, “Ahmadi! You should say it then!”. I didn’t reply. He selected “Ahmadi/Qadiani” option from the dropdown. I was sweating heavily and I felt like others were staring at me but I had no courage to look anywhere. I just kept staring at the computer screen. My heart was beating really fast. I do not exactly remember if the photograph was taken first or at the end. Then the form was printed and another clerk asked me to get it attested by a government officer of 17-grade or higher. Fortunately, my maternal uncle was a doctor in a government hospital and also an Ahmadi so I had no issues with that.

Before submission of this form, there were a few signatures required on this form, except for one section titled, “Declaration in case of Muslim”. Signature in that section was only required if the religion mentioned on this form was “Islam” which means Ahmadis, Hindus, Christians, Sikhs or persons from any other religion are not required to sign it.

But what did that section say? It is an Anti-Ahmadiyya rant which every Muslim has to sign in order to be registered as a citizen of Pakistan. To me, Ahmadis agree with the first point, probably not so much with the second point. However, the third point clearly points to Mirza Ghulam Ahmad — the founder of Ahmadiyya sect — and calls him an “imposter prophet” and his followers as “non-Muslims”. An Ahmadi would never sign the third option.

Given the fact that almost 96% of the population in Pakistan is officially Muslim, it felt like a huge punch in my face that 96% of Pakistan actually believes that I, as a citizen of Pakistan, am a follower of “an imposter prophet”. Given the magnitude of this problem, I was really shocked. However, the world around me seemed normal. It was just another day being an Ahmadi in Pakistan. So no one bats another eye. Not even an Ahmadi.

On the other hand, as a fresh 18-year old, I was revisiting a time in my memory during my intercollege in Rabwah, where I was one of the organizers of Pakistan’s freedom day celebration event called, “Pakistan and Ahmadiyya Community”. Of course, such an event was possible because it was an educational institution run by Ahmadiyya community, situated in a Ahmadiyya majority town. I, along with other program organizers, visited the library and collected a lot of material about the contribution of Ahmadis towards Pakistan. I read about the first Foreign Minister of Pakistan and twice a judge of International Court of Justice, Sir Zafarullah Khan, who was an Ahmadi. I read about the first Nobel laureate of Pakistan, Dr. Abdus Salam, who was also the first Muslim Nobel winning scientist but not because Pakistan declared his group of faith as “non-Muslims”. I also read about the contributions of second Khalifa (the global head) of Ahmadiyya community, towards the creation of Pakistan. I read the stories of several Ahmadi armymen and officers who served in Pakistani forces and fought bravely in 1965 war. My heart was full of love for Pakistan so, alongside other organizers, I helped prepare and deliver four presentations at this event in our college. We played patriotic songs and that day got imprinted on my memory relating to the love for Pakistan as an Ahmadi.

Then I jumped back into reality and I realized that it was just a year ago when I was so full of love for Pakistan. However, looking at this application form for national ID card, I felt really confused about my feelings. Nevertheless, I ignored my feelings and just went on to submit the form as I had to be registered as a citizen of Pakistan and submit my national ID to the HR department of my new job. I was, however, relieved that my faith won’t at least be mentioned on my national ID card, but only in the national database of government of Pakistan.

I always knew that being an Ahmadi is not easy in Pakistan. However, I had lived my whole life in Pakistan. I had never even visited another country before to compare my situation with anyone else. It was just normal for me. It was just my life and I had learned that life is not easy so I accepted it and fought back against the life as a normal person.

If I look back in the time now, I realize that the day when I registered as an “Ahmadi / Qadiani” in the computerized database of Pakistani government as a citizen, is the official day when my wings were clipped. I was not even aware of it at that time because I was just excited to fly as a free citizen in my beloved Islamic Republic of Pakistan.

Disclaimer: Everything written here is purely the writer’s personal point of view and strictly personal opinion. It does not represent the views of any belief or community. Please do your own research to verify facts and do not completely rely for facts on what is written here. It is just the writer’s attempt to express what he experienced or felt.

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Personal diary of an anonymous asylum seeker who follows his dream of freedom with the very basic human survival instinct; fight or flight.

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