Suhail Warraich
This is a tale from ancient mythology entirely fictional, though you are free to believe what you wish. When a charismatic princess began to travel in a remarkably beautiful and comfortable flying chariot, a storm of envy and jealousy erupted. The flying chariot had become a necessity of the times, and so, everyone from the significant to the insignificant was seen piloting one. The princess, however, truly needed hers, and her standards had always been higher than those of others. Those driven by envy and hatred concocted many false tales; at times, they questioned the legitimacy of her flights, and at others, they spread misleading rumours about the companions who accompanied her. Yet the powers in the heavens raised no objection to her flying chariot in fact, they were among those who envied it. The chariot’s reach extended across the seven seas. When the heavens are on one’s side, princes and princesses walk the earth with an air of haughty pride. In mythology, a mere nod from the gods could enable Achilles to single-handedly pile up heaps of the slain in the Trojan War; likewise, with the favour of a king, even a courtier like Ghalib might carry himself with a flourish. Something similar unfolded here: when the flying chariot became a subject of contention, the response was, “It has been acquired so be it!” as if to imply that since it bore a divine (or celestial) sanction, who else would dare to object?
Nevertheless, the fame and the opposition surrounding the flying chariot did not wane. The heavens remain unperturbed when clouds drift across them, but should lightning begin to crackle, the sky itself shifts its hue. And so, it should, for the heavens must keep track of everything happening everywhere, while ensuring that everyone remains satisfied.
There is no hidden political allegory in “The Flying Chariot and the Sky” but then again, what can one do? When Jonathan Swift wrote “Gulliver’s Travels”, the court of the Lilliputians was interpreted as a reflection of the sycophancy found in the British royal court. Similarly, when Alexander Pope penned the mock-epic “The Rape of the Lock” ostensibly about a mere lock of a woman’s hair critics interpreted it as a satire on the unbridled freedom, excessive fashion, and moral transgressions of the women of that era. In short, “everyone has their own tune to play.” When Waris Shah composed the tale of “Heer Ranjha”, the Sufis interpreted it as an allegory for the soul and the body; revolutionaries saw it as an act of rebellion against the *mullahs* and “qazis” (religious and legal authorities); and the common folk understood it simply as the romantic story of Heer and Ranjha. “The Flying Chariot and the Sky” is likewise a simple, old-fashioned tale; no matter what meanings one chooses to project onto it, it remains, at its core, nothing more than a work of fiction.
A pivotal turn occurred in this centuries-old tale when the clouds unleashed a storm of rumours, turbulent winds, and transgressions. Lightning flashed across the sky, causing the flying craft to lurch; the fierce gusts made its flight path erratic. As lightning struck amidst the winds, the craft sensed an alarm for a single warning flare is enough for the wise to take heed. The sky, while guiding the craft onto a favourable course, also took measures to counter conspiracies and rumours, the foreign pilots who once operated the craft were replaced by pilots from the heavens themselves. Now, the craft can no longer perform reckless, dangerous manoeuvres, as its flight remains secure under the watchful eye of the heavens.
Previously, the craft’s movements were easily discovered by its adversaries its very design and elaborate trappings, along with its distinct appearance, identification number, and codes, made it simple for those who manufacture rumours and manipulate technology to track it. They would exploit the information they gathered, weaving it into conspiracies and fabrications to spread misinformation. Now, however, under the protection of the heavens, the craft’s identity has been transformed into something celestial. It will become difficult for conspiratorial technologists and purveyors of propaganda to exploit it, as its very signature its defining mark has been altered. According to the ancient legend, the craft continues to be piloted with great splendour by the miraculous queen; yet it now rests under the sanctuary and vigilant guardianship of the heavens. The storyteller recounts that the charismatic queen was not only delighted by this celestial oversight but, in an act of thanksgiving, offered voluntary prayers and provided a public feast for her subjects for several days.
Sceptical historians, however, ever prone to doubt and theories of conspiracy claim that following this event, the flight of the queen’s aerial chariot lost its lustre, and its wings were effectively clipped. And God knows best the truth of the matter.
History contains all manner of stories. Some are profound, concealing multiple layers of meaning that gradually reveal their secrets over time; others are entirely superficial. The story mentioned above falls into the latter category it possesses no inherent meaning, nor does it yield any significant conclusion. It is akin to the poetry of Ustad Imam Din Gujrati and should be read and interpreted in that same light. It does not possess the “subtextual irony” found in the works of an incomparable dramatist like Shakespeare where a line such as “all that glitters is not gold” invites deep reflection nor does it resemble George Orwell’s *Animal Farm*, where the assertion that “all animals are equal, but some animals are more equal than others” serves as a critique of both communist and fascist systems. Oscar Wilde a favourite author of Ratti Jinnah, the wife of Quaid-e-Azam—once remarked, “The truth is rarely pure and never simple.” Furthermore, this is not like the “Masnavi-e-Manavi” of Maulana Rumi, which, while
