I remember reading the final book of the Potter series with this dread in my heart. Of course, it was all down to it being either Voldemort and Harry, everyone knew that but how it would end was anyone’s bet. The more pragmatic deemed that reality demands that Voldemort wins- because happy endings belong in fairy tales. But secretly everyone rooted for Harry. Prayed for him to defeat the sinister evil. Cheered on the Order of the Phoenix, cried at the sacrifices and remained resolute in the basic belief that, eventually, however long eventually takes, good will somehow, by the sheer combined power of belief and bravery win over evil.
With Pakistan having “elected” its Voldemort, I cannot shake the same dread. That feeling of impending doom and despair that nothing will ever be right again. That we will be led by evil forces against our will, be forced to be a party of things we don’t support and be helpless in the face of a labelling the world over- with a label we do not identify with, with a label that doesn’t stad for a lot of us. And as the day closes over what is probably the blackest day in the history of Pakistan, we try to go on with life, also mourn and then pray and then plan some, waiting for our Harry to show up.