Let Us Go to the Carnival!

This allegorical story captures the poignant journey of a seventy-year-old man, Mian Muhammad Bakhsh, as he sits in a park watching children play while the tapestry of his entire life unfolds before his eyes. From the innocent laughter of childhood and the bittersweet deceptions of youth to the practical anchors of marriage, his memories reveal a world teeming with opportunistic "well-wishers." Infused with profound Urdu and Punjabi poetry, the narrative beautifully transitions from a sharp satire on human hypocrisy into a deeply moving Sufi philosophy, concluding with a serene acceptance of life’s eternal, ever-moving carnival.

أَعُوذُ بِاللّٰهِ مِنَ الشَّيْطَانِ الرَّجِيمِ

بِسۡمِ ٱللهِ ٱلرَّحۡمَـٰنِ ٱلرَّحِيمِ

In the name of ALLAH, the Most Gracious, the Most Merciful

Come, Let Us Go to the Carnival!

(Original Title: Chal Mele Noon Chaliye!)

The faint, golden sunlight of late evening filtered through the ancient banyan tree, scattering across the ground. In a quiet corner of the park, on a weathered wooden bench, sat seventy-year-old Mian Muhammad Bakhsh, silent and still. His face was a complete volume of lines written by time, and his frail hands firmly gripped an old wooden walking stick.

Directly in front of the bench, on the lush green grass, a few innocent children were playing, their laughter filling the air. One was on the swing, another was chasing a butterfly, while some were building tiny mud houses. The carefree laughter of these children touched a deep chord in Mian Bakhsh’s heart, and he slowly began to sink into the fog of the past—a realm from which there is no return.

A vivid scene flashed before his old eyes—the innocence of childhood, when the world was nothing but a playground and the heart was entirely free from deceit. Mian Muhammad Bakhsh remembered his childhood companions, those with whom his golden years had passed. Oh, what glorious days those were! In the mist of those beautiful memories, two faces stood out vividly—friends whose companionship lasted a lifetime. Through school, through college, and even as they wandered from city to city, country to country, those two sincere friends always stood side by side. Yet, so many others were scattered by the ruthless waves of time, and so many tragedies befell everyone along this long journey. But Mian Bakhsh remembered well that no matter how much the companions of that era fought or laughed, they were never hypocrites. There was simply no room for malice or cunning in their hearts.

Slowly, the memories drifted into the golden days of college; the vibrant cafeterias echoing with loud laughter, the strolls to various teashops with friends, and the hours spent sitting together in wandering, carefree conversation. It was during this era that friends’ new love stories would begin, and Mian Bakhsh, in his sheer innocence and simplicity, would involve himself in everyone's tales, helping them out, only to end up being made a fool (Mamoo) himself every single time.

Then, the final threshold of adolescence was crossed, and he entered the passionate realm of youth, where every man fancies himself the hero of a movie. Mian Bakhsh remembered how, in that era of madness, he too was possessed by the ghost of love. Ah, those night-long conversations, those fragrant letters, and those sky-shattering promises of "I cannot live without you"! Good heavens, hearing them at the time made it feel as though if separation happened, the next breath would simply refuse to come.

But time is a cruel healer! On one side they separate, and on the other, look at the irony of life—man does not die; instead, he learns to live by being made a fool. And to top it all off, where is man not made a fool? His first love—his Reshmaan—also left him duped in both the literal and figurative sense, settling down with someone else. Mian Bakhsh took a deep breath and thought: In reality, it had to happen that way. The choices of youth are often of the same age, and long before boys can stand on their own feet and earn a living, the girls get their hands stained with henna and are wedded away, leaving behind nothing but unfulfilled promises. Look at the tragic irony of time—that Reshmaan is no longer even in this world today. Yet, whenever her grandsons and granddaughters meet him in the neighborhood, they call Mian Bakhsh "Grandfather." Hearing the word Grandpa now brings no pain to his heart, but rather a strange, calming acceptance of time's ultimate indifference.

However, after that era of youth, new friends, self-proclaimed well-wishers, and relatives in the marketplace of worldly affairs continued to arrive under the guise of love and solace, only to leave him duped at every turn of life, just like that song from the Bollywood movie Munna Bhai M.B.B.S.: "They went ahead and made a fool out of me!" A bitter yet faint smile played upon his lips. In this overwhelming surge of memories, Mian Bakhsh recalled a couplet by Aamir Usmani, which he had once written in his old diary when pushed to his limits by these relentless blows of life:

“Neither do I have the strength to restrain my grief, nor the audacity to shed tears,

This is a strange state of mind—neither peace nor restlessness.

Your life-elevating promises, when did they ever deceive me?

It was my own quickness to trust that came to your aid.”

It was in this sea of memories that the most powerful moment emerged—the moment that changed his entire life forever. He remembered vividly how, just as he was barely trying to recover from the illusions of this "magical city of stones" and the shocks of being repeatedly duped, the greatest and most unexpected turning point arrived. One day, his respected parents, with immense solemnity and seriousness, placed a hand on his forehead and said, "That is enough, son! You have wandered enough, now settle down." And then, through the mediation of his parents, Mian Muhammad Bakhsh was respectably, honorably, and grandly tied to a "hitching post" (marriage). And that hitching post proved to be so strong over time that, truth be told, it never allowed Mian Bakhsh the slightest chance to wander or stray. It bound his feet in such a way that his wandering heart belonged to one place forever.

Yet... it was only after being tied to this strong post of marriage, when the harsh, burning sunlight of reality appeared and the heavy yoke of domestic responsibilities settled on his shoulders, that Muhammad Bakhsh truly understood what the poet meant by saying:-

“In wandering, one should cross all limits,

But every now and then, one must return home.”

Life in marriage taught Mian Bakhsh the priceless lesson that true peace is found only and exclusively within the home. The moment one steps outside those four walls, the entire world is filled with opportunistic well-wishers hiding in every corner! Now, sitting in the peaceful sanctuary of his home, whenever he recalled those old "benefactors" over whose false promises his soul had once wept, it only brought a smile to his face. He realized that Mian Muhammad Bakhsh (the legendary poet) and Munir Niazi were quite limited in their weeping, as they only mourned over unfaithful friends, whereas in reality, the entire system of the world was teeming with such characters!

The manipulative well-wishers at the offices, the cunning opportunists waiting in business, the demanding relatives from the in-laws, the clever shopkeepers in weighing goods, and the government officials handing over heavy utility bill forms every month—it was then that Mian Bakhsh deeply realized that the sorrows of the past, the grief of separation, and the romantic heartaches of youth were actually luxuries born of idle, pampered days. The real test, the harsh sunlight, and the ultimate truth of life began only after marriage, in the arena of these practical responsibilities!

Aamir Usmani was right; our quickness to trust kept serving us well, otherwise, given the number of deceptions we swallowed under the cloak of "kindness" since childhood, anyone else would have lost their mind long ago. When a person finds themselves surrounded by this opportunistic crowd, the poetry of Munir Niazi comes to mind, a lesson he had read and taken to heart back in his youth:-

“If dying is our ultimate destiny, why run away from it?

Why entangle ourselves in the web of the world just to forget it?

Why make false and true friends just to pour our hearts out to them?

Why not just sit alone at home and laugh like madmen?”

If death is inevitable, what is the point of running away? In this very pursuit of standing his ground before the world, he took a heavy beating from these "kind souls." After every setback and every wound, his heart thought that perhaps it would have been better to run away by wrapping himself in the same blanket of deceit as these opportunists. But it was in this very hustle, this struggle, and this marketplace of deception that he also learned to distinguish between true and false friends.

Today, as the evening of life approaches and old age weighs upon the body, sitting alone at home or in this solitary corner of the park, whenever he recalls all those faces—their deceit, their cunning, and their "kindnesses"—he genuinely feels like bursting into loud, mad laughter all by himself, realizing what a magical land of illusions he was searching for truth in! The timeless verses of Mian Muhammad Bakhsh naturally came to his lips:-

“A companion who is of no use in times of ease or hardship,

It is better to be alone, my friend, than to have such a fruitless partner.”

The sun was now fully setting, and darkness began to envelope the park. The children had returned to their respective homes, and the carnival was coming to an end. Leaning on his walking stick, Mian Bakhsh stood up from the bench. He looked up at the sky where the first evening star had appeared, and the Sufi verses of the universe's first carnival began to echo from his lips:-

“In the end, we must go and die,

Come, let us go to the carnival...

The first carnival was celebrated by Adam,

The angels bowed their heads in prostration...

And Satan burned with envy from within,

Come, let us go to the carnival...”

When the ultimate destination is to mingle with the dust, why complain about these worldly opportunists and selfish "well-wishers"? The first carnival of the universe was celebrated by the father of humanity, Adam, where the angels placed their heads in prostration, and Satan, burning in the fire of jealousy, was rejected forever. Envy, cunning, and hypocrisy have been a part of this carnival since that very day.

Mian Bakhsh brushed off his clothes, planted his stick firmly on the ground, and walked with slow, deliberate steps toward the park gates. Now there was no grievance in his heart, no complaint. He smiled and whispered to himself, "Leave these true and false friends behind! In the end, we must return to dust. So let us walk toward the true carnival of life and immerse ourselves in the colours of its Creator!" Walking away, Mian Muhammad Bakhsh deeply realized that this carnival of life would probably go on forever just like this. New people will arrive, play their designated roles for their given time, and one day quietly depart just like him—but the carnival itself will never end.