Since then, he has announced an austerity drive, vowed to cut the expenses of the Prime Minister's House by 40 per cent, forcing ministers into 1600cc cars, and other measures that he and his partners think will start to pull us out of this economic mess we are in. There is a story doing the rounds that just before the swearing-in Mr Zardari asked Mr Gilani to remove his luxury Rolex and smacked a Swatch watch on his wrist. He did the same with the ministers-to-be.
Did that really happen, and was it another much-needed step? Will wearing a Swatch watch melt the layers of pompousness that afflicts all those who are part of the VIP tribe? There is talk of banning ministers and the like from flying the Pakistani flag on their cars, removal of those "No Fear" boys in their black 4x4s cutting through traffic like a hot knife through butter as they ride on the heels of their VIP masters.
Someone said we are back to one-dish affairs and other austerity measures are waiting to happen. It has also been suggested that the PM's nine military, naval and air force officers be removed because, firstly, he doesn't need them and, secondly, when he has civilian staff, what are these boys doing other than cooling their heels and having a hell of a good innings at the taxpayer's expense? And so on.
The issue, of course, runs deeper than this and already is being argued. Many of us feel that while these small crumbs of simplicity are welcome in a society where materialism is everything, they don't even begin to address the deep-seated malaise that afflicts us from one end to the other.
This business of VIP culture is not simply confined to a cavalcade of siren-screaming luxury limos that break all traffic rules with impunity as they transport very small-minded men from one meaningless meeting to another, while thousands and thousands of ordinary people stand like mute animals waiting for rude and aggressive policemen to remove the barricades.
We all know far too well that long before any "VIP movement" is to take place, the busiest of roads – doesn't matter where or in which city – are simply sealed off. It takes the cavalcade of nobodies less than a minute to fly past these blockades, but such is the power of this cancerous culture that traffic is held hostage long after the VIPs have departed, because this is their "security" – another disgusting word that is now part of our everyday existence.
The disease is in the mindsets, and that will not go by removing a watch or by having one dish at an official dinner. We are not simple people leading simple lives. We preach simplicity, quote the Prophet's own humble existence – he had hardly anything to his name, but that is just gospel meant to pass the moment. Neither the speaker who extols these virtues means a word of it, nor does his somnolent audience, who are bored to death, believing a word of it either.
This is a ritual that has now become part of our very thinking. We cannot exist without showing off what we have, almost always got through means that are anything but legit. Most Pakistanis feel absolutely no compunction in bribing their way through any problem that they might have. This can range from small sums of money doled out to avoid the consequences of a traffic offence or far larger parcels to secure licenses, tilt rankings, obtain concessions, and so on. Neither the giver nor the receiver has the slightest remorse. This spreads across all spectrums of our land and gives greater credence to its efficacy. Those few who do not subscribe to this practice fall by the wayside and are the butt of jokes because they are such pathetic failures. It has come to a point where honesty is now regarded as something akin to an infectious disease, and those carrying it are kept at a distance.
In our social setup there is no longer any censure of those who are the scum of the earth by any standards. In fact, they are the pillars of society, the ones who inaugurate projects, launch schemes and plant trees and who pray to the Almighty with their eyes fervently closed, swayed by the very act of communion with their Lord.
It is therefore no surprise to find that there are hundreds of the country's leading lights, those whose sermons have been forced down our protesting throats ever since Pakistan began, who have indulged in the most serious financial crimes and simply escaped any accountability. With minds as devious as they have, they make their moves through the right people at the right time and emerge winners.
Every government has, for its own ends, written off enormous amounts of public money – money for votes has long been a well-honed and rewarding philosophy. Having made a fortune without any effort whatsoever, these are the same people who intone in voices dripping with piety that they have achieved success only because the prayers of their respective mothers helped them along the way. An Umrah is dutifully undertaken and more piety is displayed, preferably with a cameraman in tow so that the beatific heavenly smiles can be transmitted back home.
In such prevailing falsehood and false worship, how can any virtue, any quality or any standard survive, let alone flourish?
If the new government – many of its members thriving today thanks to another gift of convenience given to this country, the National Reconciliation Ordinance, really wants to make austerity a sweeping, powerful wave that starts to clean this dirty society, it will have to do far more than exchange watches at ceremonies. It should also stop shouting about its resolves and simply start doing what it thinks it should be doing, now that it is in power.
Too many people have robbed Pakistan and got away with it – crime does pay – and serious across-the-board dry-cleaning is necessary. This is no small task and is most likely going to fail, but I think the time for cosmetic changes has long gone.
Please wear your Rolex watches, drive your 7-series BMWs, import your royal designer shirts and suits, wear $10,000 shoes and flash your wealth. We can live with that. But when it comes to cleaning up this infested land, roll up your sleeves and remove the Guccis and plunge in. Nothing else will remotely make any difference whatsoever. Oh, by the way, why don't we turn the Governor's Houses into five-star hotels? India has done it with Maharajas' palaces. Why can't we, with the commoners who loll about in them?
The writer is a Lahore-based columnist. Email: masoodhasan0@gmail.com