Munir badnaam hua, darling kiske liye

Paani re paani tera rang kaisa, jisme mila do lage us jaisa; paani re paani o paani paani re paani o (O water, what is your colour, whatever you mix it with, it looks like that; O water)', rendered so soulfully by Lata Mangeshkar and Mukesh in Shor (noise), suddenly appears apposite because of the ebb and flow of India-Pakistan ties in the aftermath of the Pahalgam terrorist attack.

Since independence, the relationship has been so porous that camaraderie and hostility have come to the surface every now and then. A steady stream of emotion has always been missing. It has been either a high tide (a rarity) or a low tide (quite the norm). The remaining vestiges of connection had snapped over the past decade, except that terrorists kept seeping in and India responding in equal measure. Then popped up General Asim Munir.

Looking to swim against the tide, the Pakistani General forgot that India was in complete control of the sources of paani (water) feeding Pakistan. With New Delhi deciding to turn the tap on or off according to its needs after the terrorist attack, Munir ended up swimming in a dry riverbed, receiving bruises here, there and everywhere.


Men prize the thing ungained more than it is, said the bard. Instead of turning Pakistan's fortune, the General started eyeing India's crown and in return received enough to turn moist-eyed. But Munir (a word of Arabic origin which means bright or shining) hasn't learnt his lesson. Rather than illuminating the horizon, he has been the reason for blackouts on both the banks of the porous border.

As things stand, it appears that Munir-baazi may not end soon and raise its ugly head intermittently. If this trend continues, Pakistan's resources may dry up overnight just like the beds of the Indus river system. Eventually, it's upon the Pakistanis to make a choice - whether they want a life dictated by a Zia-inspired General or a life that can flow with the stream.