Alhamdulillah, I have witnessed one of life’s greatest marvels: growing up in a society whose people are, mashallah, one of a kind, or shall I say, ‘aura hi different hai’. Such people are the types who believe that the universe was created as a backdrop for their selfies and that “common sense” and “learning instead of preaching” apply to other people.
If you have ever stumbled across history and read how Aristotle discovered how the Earth revolves around the sun, you might want to fact-check your sources — not because you are wrong, but rather because he was. You see, Aristotle and all the scientists who subsequently followed him were unfortunately deluded by their ignorance. They clearly never stepped out into the real world. If they had, they would have realised the obvious truth: in our universe, it’s not the sun but rather our VIPs who sit proudly at the centre of the universe, just like in every gathering and conversation.
From early on, we ourselves are trained to follow in the footsteps of such holiness, even if it is as hollow as a drum echoing with self-importance, attracting every bystander to witness the applause we give to ourselves for doing absolutely nothing.
Every gathering, whether it’s a family dinner, a wedding, or a competition, silently oozes into the conversation. “Whose kid is better?” “Who got a 100%?” Who has memorised the most poems? It is like Kon Banega Crorepati, with the only reward being an ego boost for our elders.
You might have witnessed such a phenomenon yourself. You must have seen how women at weddings overdress just to make sure the bride is not the centre of attention, even though it is literally her event. I mean, this is true dedication and truly inspirational! Or you might have seen your phupoo, khala or your parents proudly announcing, “Beta, zara dance kar kai dekhao!” or “Beta, zara woh poem sunao”. And there you were, performing for an audience of critics more demanding than the judges of Pakistan Idol. It was here that you learned the first and most important rule of a successful Desi life: the spotlight belongs to you, even when it was never about you to begin with.
You see, as kids, we are naive and believe everything the adults tell us. When they told us, ‘You are important’, we took it literally. It was as if it blessed us with superpowers, which made our blood redder, our hair glossier, and our irrational tantrums more authentic and valuable. It is funny how almost every major city has its own franchise of VIP: Karachi’s “I own the road” types, Lahore’s “I know someone in the government” elite, and Islamabad’s “my silence is richer than you” brigade. But it’s not only the adults who teach us.
If you ever walk into a mall or an overly expensive cafe, you can spot the modern VIP-in-the-making. They have evolved with time.
These are the Gen Z prototypes: they consist of a matcha latte (or a Stanley cup) in one hand, an expensive iPhone in the other, loudly explaining — or rather ranting — to their friends how their parents are “toxic” and “just don’t understand their mental health” — one of the rules is to always be understood and never understand. Until, of course, those same parents gently catapult you into adulthood, you realise “kai ab bill kaun pay karega?” and you are enlightened about how pretentious the VIP culture is and is rather a trap to avoid accountability. Khair, that is all for later. Remember, you are important and that feeling is truly euphoric and irreplicable! Embrace it wholeheartedly!
For all those who wish to embody their inner VIP, don’t you worry! I got you!
Firstly, you need to know that VIP status isn’t age-restricted. Everyone, from toddlers to grandmothers, can qualify. The guide to achieving begins with a simple belief: the world always revolves around you. You just have to make sure that everything becomes about you- be it someone’s wedding or birthday!
Secondly, you’ll need a few essential accessories:
- The Sunglasses of Superiority Complex: Preferably fake, oversized and as cheap as possible. Should be worn both outside and inside to truly signal your importance, because truly nothing screams “VIP” more than blocking out imaginary paparazzi and standing out — even if others think it looks stupid.
- The Disconnected Phone Call: Always remember to speak loudly into it in public. Bonus points if you say, “Tension nahi laini, meri upar tak pohonch hai”.
- The Hand Gesture of Authority: Use it while driving — for the best results, pair it with “Tum jaante ho mera baap kaun hai?” if the police ever dare to stop you. As a Karachiite, trust me when I say it works like a charm. Most importantly, don’t stop there. Use it in every conversation, especially when it is not going your way. Nothing should come between your feelings of entitlement, even if you are wrong.
- The “Mujh se tou kisi ne poocha hi nahi” Attitude: Perfect for every family gathering. Inspired by none other than the “ghar ka damad” and phupoo, it is indeed the perfect way to weaponise desi victimhood and pretend that nobody is giving your presence value, even if it is a funeral.
Of course, this obsession with importance and this holy VIP culture is deeply rooted in our society. We have inherited it from the real VIPs, the kind whose presence can clear the road in a matter of minutes. We have all seen it: the highways being shut down, the busiest roads becoming red carpets for them, citizens waiting because someone special, perhaps one can presume a man ordained by God himself, must glide through undisturbed, for God forbid a catastrophe might strike. We act disturbed by it, but deep down, we admire it. We crave it. Haven’t you heard how you can ‘speed’ things up in a government office? We might act annoyed by it, but we all wish we had that power.
It is a known fact that we don’t learn from suffering. We would rather amplify it and replicate it in the name of prestige. The elites show us what power looks like, and we follow it. All because we want to be a VIP, even if it is nothing but a brutal display of power.
So yes, I am important. My phone might be the definition of noise pollution; my sunglasses might be from Sunday bazaar, and my “influence” might not extend beyond me interrupting everyone in a conversation just to prove my opinion as all-mighty and all-important, which in most cases is purely bullshit. But rest assured, in the theatrics of our society, I am and always will be the star.
After all, the world may not revolve around me, but it certainly does in spirit- every queue I skip, every time I am loud, every hand gesture serves as proof that the universe knows who the real centre of gravity is!