A bullet that whisked and a bullet that hit

“Cowards die many times before their deaths;

The valiant never taste of death but once.”

— William Shakespeare, Julius Caesar

The day breaks.

You open your news feed not just for headlines, but for the next episode of the human drama on planet Earth—a show in which we are all unwilling actors. The stage is vast, the script unseen, and yet every morning we tune in.

Did I just borrow from Shakespeare? Perhaps. But the play is real.

This episode begins with a headline: Charlie Kirk is shot.
I had never heard of Charlie Kirk. A few minutes on Wikipedia gave me a sketch of who he was. Then I opened Twitter—and there it was: his execution, broadcast to millions. It felt ritualistic, almost ancient—an echo of the Mayan sacrifices Mel Gibson captured in Apocalypto.

A shot is fired.
Charlie Kirk’s body slumps, lifeless, as a fountain of blood erupts from his neck.

Watching this unfold in real time, a thought crossed my mind: Now Americans may glimpse what Palestinians endure daily. For them, it is not just a single bullet—most of the ammunition dropped on Gaza weighs over 500 pounds, raining down day after day.

Returning to the image of Charlie Kirk, I reflected more on his life and who he was.

Today marks the fifteenth day since his death. And since then, I have often thought of Donald Trump. He, too, could have fallen, but for him the bullet merely whisked by, brushing his ear like a ghostly kiss.

I am convinced that the same forces stood behind both moments—the one that struck Kirk and the one that spared Trump.

For Trump, the near miss was not random chance. It was a warning: This is what awaits you if you persist with your pre-election defiance.

But let us walk back down memory lane and remember those for whom the bullet did not whisk away:

• Abraham Lincoln

• John F. Kennedy

• Martin Luther King Jr.

And beyond America, Benazir Bhutto in Pakistan.

The truth is, leaders who carry agendas capable of shaking the system often face the bullet. Obama also spoke in superlatives…about freedom about change…gave people hope but he was a coward. As the saying goes he must have been shown the video of Kennedy…Obama was not made of the mud that Iqbal mentioned in his Jawab-eShikwa . 

Tarbiat Aam Tau Hai, Jauhar-e-Qabil Hi Nahin
Jis Se Taamir Ho Aadam Ki Yeh Woh Gil Hi Nahin

betrayal of Obama brought us Trump…in his first term they just never let him work…it was Russia gate and that’s it…Trump at that time turned out just another dumb rich realtor who didn’t have good answer for anything…they brought a half dead guy to replace him…the 2nd time just to make sure and cut to the chase Trump had to made understood where things stand and who is the Boss. And so a bullet grazed him, and that was enough. The fire that once made him dangerous was extinguished. He surrendered to the line he once resisted.

In the end, the bullet is not only a weapon—it is a test. It asks whether a person values comfort more than conviction, survival more than truth. Those who fall become immortal, their light carried forward by history. Those who bend live on, but only as shadows of what they might have been.

The human spirit is more lethal than an assassin’s bullet. It is the same spirit that defies empire—not only on battlefields, but in moments of personal courage. Muhammad Ali embodied it when he refused to be drafted to kill “yellow people halfway around the world,” declaring that his conscience would not serve an unjust war. His defiance made him greater than any victory in the ring.

The Palestinians remind us of this every day. Their courage shows that even in the face of overwhelming force, the human spirit can burn brighter than any weapon. To take the bullet is not to die, but to prove that life’s essence outlives the body.

“You give but little when you give of your possessions.
It is when you give of yourself that you truly give.”
— Khalil Gibran

Kingdom of Earth

A few weeks ago, YouTube’s mysterious oracle (a.k.a. The Algorithm) decided that my intellectual diet needed a new flavor: Professor Jiang. Fair enough—given the kind of content I usually consume, the algorithm wasn’t wrong. It read my mind, served me his videos, and said, “Here, this guy is basically you—only with better lighting and a fancier accent.”

At first, I gave him a polite two-minute hearing and moved on. Nothing personal against the man, but I’ve been overdosing on geopolitics lately. And honestly, my predictions about where things are headed have already been confirmed. Once you see the pattern, watching someone else spell it out feels like re-watching last week’s weather forecast.

But then my eldest sister—the nerd trifecta (history, literature, architecture) and proud Alaskan exile—forwarded one of his videos to the family WhatsApp group. Nice of her to share feeding the whole family with a regular dose of intellectual thought. That my cue: I sat down, clicked “play,” and gave him a real listen.

The gist of his point was: Iran will lure the U.S. into a ground war. To which I replied, before even watching: “Nope, not happening.” But hey, I didn’t want to be that guy who dismisses something without giving it a fair shot. So I listened. And yes, the conclusion remained: Iran will somehow seduce America into marching an army across its borders. I don’t even fully remember the narrative of that first video, but then came this bright Sunday morning. I made two parathas, two eggs, and poured steaming tea into a made-in-West-Germany thermos I thrifted at Value Village (thank you, unknown family). 

While sipping chai and chewing parathas, I opened YouTube. Because I had actually subscribed to the professor after my sister’s recommendation, YouTube kindly served me this gem: 

This video pushed me over the edge and forced me to write this blog. To record my ideas not just for myself but for future generations who might need a reminder that yes, some of us were smart enough to call the nonsense out. (Okay, I’m joking, but only partly.)

The problem is that Professor Jiang builds his predictions on eschatological fairy tales. Because in his view, according to “game theory,” fanatics call the shots. And so he sticks to predictions that don’t hold up.

In this video he again starts with Iran luring America into a ground war. Cute. Problem is, that era is over. America’s ground war days ended with Iraq and Afghanistan. The math doesn’t work anymore, invaders need three times the troops of defenders, which means even a million-strong army wouldn’t cut it against Iran. Add in Iran’s ability to sink carriers and America’s complete lack of appetite for another endless quagmire… this whole “Iran baiting” prediction collapses faster than a Jenga tower at a toddler’s birthday party.

But sure, let’s humor it for a second according to Jiang the U.S. takes the bait, loses badly, and spirals into civil war at home. So wait if losing to Iran was so “evident,” does he really think Americans are foolish enough to start such a war in the first place? Apparently, yes. Because nothing screams “sound strategy” like launching a disastrous invasion abroad just to come back and tear yourself apart at home. Brilliant. Truly 4D chess.

Then he hops to Ukraine: Russia will encircle Odessa, NATO will heroically intervene, and—wait for it—Europe will finally revolt against its own governments. Apparently, France and Germany, who can barely mobilize enough soldiers for a parade, are going to stop Russia’s industrial machine. LOL. Here’s reality (my take): Russia is outproducing the entire NATO bloc in weapons and ammunition. NATO troops in Europe? A few divisions at best. Ukraine’s fate? Grim but simple—Russia keeps moving west, takes Odessa, takes Kyiv, until Ukraine finally accepts reality. No “saviors” are coming. Russia will leave the rest of western Ukraine—the real Nazi crackpots—as a European problem. They were never part of the Russian Empire; Stalin only added them after WWII.

Jiang moves on and describes a cherry on top: in this process, Turkey is destroyed, and Moscow revives the Byzantine Empire with Greeks marching back to Constantinople. Excuse me! While I thank him for this free comedy routine.

By the 35th minute, Jiang solemnly predicts the U.S. bows out of the Middle East, Greater Israel emerges as a new empire, and Putin steps in to unify religions. The man delivers this with the seriousness of a surgeon—not even a smirk! Meanwhile, I’m sitting there thinking: how is this not stand-up comedy? Gog, Magog, Mehdi, Putin as global spiritual leader—It’s like the History Channel’s ‘Ancient Aliens’ thought it was too far-fetched, so he dumped it on YouTube instead.

And then comes the kicker: if it’s all such an “open secret,” why don’t the Anglo-Saxons (his words) do something? Because, according to him, they’re too busy enjoying their wealth. At this point, I realized something: maybe Jiang isn’t just spinning yarns for fun. The video had 177,000 views. Imagine 10,000 people tossing him $1 each. That’s $10,000 for narrating fairy tales with a straight face. Huh. Maybe I’m in the wrong business.

Let me take a detour. Recently, while geeking out with my daughter over historical maps (4000 BC, 3000 BC, etc.—yes, we’re that kind of family), I stumbled on an answer to a question that’s haunted me: why don’t prophets appear anymore? The answer was obvious. Humanity used to need prophets because we were too scattered, too dumb, too illiterate to figure things out. Prophets were walking encyclopedias. Today, we have the internet. We can copy each other’s mistakes and good ideas without divine messengers parachuting in. In short: no prophet is coming. No Jesus 2.0, no Mehdi, no Putin uniting religions like it’s a Marvel crossover event.

We’re on our own. Say it again until it sinks in: we are on our own. So when the good professor drapes his predictions in eschatology, Gog and Magog, and mystical third Romes… it’s just a distraction. Nice bedtime stories, but no thanks.

So here’s my bottom line: forget the eschatology, forget the prophets, forget the mystical third Romes. Israel is fighting for survival. Palestinians are already winning in ways that matter. Three powers remain—the U.S., China, and Russia. There will be no world-ending war, just endless maneuvering. Call it “strategic escalation.” There won’t be a “big war.” If you like the word war, we’re already in one.

The focus should be Israel is fighting for its survival, not Palestinians. Palestinians are winning. Palestinians will win. The only country reckless enough to initiate a nuclear detonation is Israel… but Israel is nothing without the U.S. And behind the U.S. stand the Anglo-Saxons. Which brings me to the title of this blog: they believe they hold the “kingdom of the earth.” And they’re losing it. They will lose it. The world is going multipolar, with Russia and China steering it in that direction.

How? Through strategic escalation maneuvering. They will never escalate things to the point of apocalypse. Take that to the bank.

And to think—this whole train of thought started because I made parathas, poured chai into a thrift-store thermos, and clicked on one more Jiang video.

Trump and Putin date in Alaska

Trump and Putin are meeting in Alaska… yes, Alaska, the frozen ex-Russian territory that Tsar Alexander II sold to the U.S. in 1867 for $7.2 million, which, if you adjust for inflation, is roughly the cost of a Miami penthouse now owned by a Russian oligarch’s cousin.

It’s like an awkward real estate reunion — the current landlord meeting the previous owner who sold the place for pennies. Alaska, once Russian America, now hosting its old ruler for tea and maybe a little casual land-bartering. Next thing you know, they’ll be swapping maps like baseball cards.

Of course, everyone wanted to be part of the invite list.

The wannabe Sultan, Erdogan has mastered the art of being a frenemy, so nobody trusts him to bring more than drama.

The Emir of the UAE? Let’s be honest, in this league he’s like the kid who shows up to an F1 race with a bicycle.

The party is in Alaska, and it’s discreet no Sultan or Emir trying to get into spotlight… Discreet as the two leaders with nuclear arsenals can be. Well better yet a wanna be Nobel laureate and the other armed with Oreshniks. In a quiet corner of the world that could soon become arctic suez route A gathering where Russian oligarchs and American billionaires clink their champagne glasses over one shared goal: keep the money machine running. The formula is simple: America stays the world’s big boss, the dollar remains king, and nobody rocks the yacht. Ironically, the biggest threat to the U.S. dollar right now is… the U.S. itself and that's a story for another time.

Russia, oddly enough, has an interest in keeping the American empire afloat, not out of goodwill, but because a collapsing America would be chaotic in ways that could hurt Russia’s own position. Better the devil you know than a free-for-all where unpredictable new powers rise.

The losers in this arrangement are Europe’s political elite, the Zionists, and the U.S. deep state. They’ve been daydreaming about a big, “cleansing” war, the kind they imagine will wash away their domestic problems and, in their more sinister fantasies, slow or reverse Europe’s demographic shift. 

Europe must stay white, and for that wouldn’t the best way to stop the “browning” of the continent be to send the brown and immigrant populations to the front lines. It’s straight from the colonial playbook, and they’ve got centuries of experience in writing these bloody scripts.

My prediction, Putin will smile, Trump will smirk, and they’ll leave Alaska with a handshake deal that doesn’t make the news but quietly freezes (pun intended) the war plans. The oligarchs will toast to another year of status quo. China will keep winning. And the war hawks in Europe and D.C. will have to go back to the drawing board, sighing over their untouched maps and unrealized war budgets.

History would rhyme and laugh at its own jokes.

When Beards and Bros-in-Law Run a Country

A few days ago, our national drama minister—sorry, Information and Broadcasting Minister—Attaullah Tarar blurted out that India will attack Pakistan in the next 24 to 36 hours. Yes, you heard it. This isn’t a leaked military memo or an intelligence briefing—it’s just Tarar channeling his inner doomsday prophet on national TV, probably after binge-watching too much Bollywood espionage thrillers.

Today, I see none other than Ishaq Dar meeting with Sergei Lavrov, Russia’s actual grown-up foreign minister. And I just stood there, blinking at my screen like, Wait, what? Are these the clowns who will now play diplomats in a potential war scenario?

Let’s be honest—in regular life, if you ran into either of these men at a dinner party, you'd actively avoid the table they sit at. You’d struggle to hear two coherent, logical sentences from them without wanting to tear your ears off. I don’t know them personally, thank God, but they radiate the unmistakable aura of dishonest backstabbers who wouldn’t hesitate to sell national interests for a nice seat at the power table and a new Audi.

Tarar, with his mystical beard and comically tragic air of superiority, screams of belonging to a sect that believes women should be in a burqa. Misogynistic, sectarian, and with all the rhetorical grace of a screaming wahabi Islam, is the face of national security hysteria.

Then there’s Dar—whose only credential is being Nawaz Sharif’s brother-in-law. That’s it. No charisma. No degrees in diplomacy. Just a comfy chair at the family dinner table. A man so vanilla, so painfully bland, that the Russians must’ve wondered whether they were meeting a state representative or the account manager of a failed microfinance bank.

And now he’s out there—representing Pakistan in meetings with Russia to mediate peace between us and India. Dar, whose understanding of global diplomacy probably ends at "Sir jee, dollar gir gaya hai", is now deciding the fate of 240 million people.

The current hybrid regime of Pakistan, is a lovechild of greedy capitalists and power-drunk generals—a regime more interested in moving files for business deals than in national sovereignty. They don’t care who’s really in charge (spoiler: it’s not them), as long as their personal bank accounts keep getting fatter and their Swiss vacations uninterrupted.

So here we are: a country in perpetual crisis, led by men with zero charisma, zero credibility, and zero comprehension of history, philosophy, or geopolitics. Watching them lead diplomatic meetings is like watching toddlers try to defuse a bomb with crayons.

God help us all. Or at least send someone who knows the difference between foreign policy and foreign chicken tikka.

What if Sethi is right?

The latest episode of Najam Sethi’s Argument isn’t just more talk-show noise—it’s a rare moment when someone says the quiet part out loud. Sethi, in his signature tone of weary realism, suggests something that sounds almost heretical in today’s hyper-nationalist echo chambers: maybe the Pakistani deep state didn’t do it. Yes, maybe this time, for once, Pakistan’s military-intelligence complex isn’t the author of a cross-border provocation. A laughable notion to some, but not if you consider the strange alignment of geopolitical signals blinking in the background.

Let’s start with India. Narendra Modi’s star is fading. The economy limps along, dissent brews among farmers, and the once-hypnotic appeal of Hindutva politics is growing stale. But if there’s one trick Modi still knows well, it’s the ancient art of distraction. War, after all, is the oldest unifier. A border skirmish, a convenient terrorist incident, a spike in patriotic news tickers—it all fits the playbook. And who better to play the villain than Pakistan, the eternal bogeyman? Modi’s need for a narrative shift is palpable, and what better way to rally the nation than to light a fire on the frontier?

Now bring in Sethi’s own claim. He hints that people in the know—maybe voices from inside Pakistan’s deep state—are whispering denials. That they genuinely had nothing to do with it. Coming from Sethi, a veteran journalist with his own network of sources, this isn’t a throwaway comment. If true, it raises an uncomfortable question: if Pakistan didn’t orchestrate the incident, then who did? Or rather—who needed it to happen?

This is where the silence from Washington becomes thunderous. Historically quick to condemn Pakistan or cheerlead India, the U.S. reaction this time is strangely muted. No harsh rhetoric. No overt alignment. Just careful, diplomatic hedging. Could it be because Washington is already mapping its next military theater—and needs Pakistan stable, compliant, and on-call? If the U.S. is indeed gearing up for confrontation with Iran, who better to subcontract some of the dirty work than Pakistan’s battle-hardened army, long familiar with the art of war-for-hire? From the Gulf to Yemen, Pakistan has quietly sold its services before. Why not again?

In that light, blaming Pakistan for a border provocation it didn’t actually commit could disrupt backroom deals and risk losing a critical regional asset. Better to play neutral, keep the channels open, and let India fume alone. And while the U.S. plays the silent partner, China is anything but quiet. Beijing has publicly backed Pakistan, not because of brotherhood, but because of cold, hard infrastructure. The China-Pakistan Economic Corridor isn’t a goodwill project—it’s a strategic artery. Pakistan’s destabilization is a threat to Chinese ambitions, and Beijing is making it clear: this partner comes with protection.

So where does that leave us? Possibly in one of the few moments where the truth is more inconvenient than a lie. If Najam Sethi is right—and the deep state didn’t do it—then the world has to wrestle with the idea that Pakistan is not always the villain in its favorite narrative. That perhaps, this time, it’s not about who crossed the line of control, but who needed the headlines. Maybe it was Modi’s electoral calendar. Maybe it’s about American plans for Iran. Maybe it’s all of it. In South Asia, the truth has always been the least profitable story. In a world where loyalty is manufactured and facts are massaged for optics, the idea that “we didn’t do it” may just be the most subversive act of all. And in that case, maybe—just maybe—Sethi is right.

Metallic Greed

Metallic Greed
A Sad-Sarcastic Ode to Capitalism, Cramped Seats, and the Death of Rock Reverence

It was 1993. I was studying at Bauman University in Russia—where hope was in short supply but Metallica was carved into every desk and chair like some desperate prayer. In a time of uncertainty, in a country being economically and spiritually gutted, there it was—Metallica, scratched into splintered wood as if Lenin himself had approved the playlist.

The 90s in Russia weren’t just hard; they were catastrophic. A collapsing economy, vanishing jobs, and national pride swirling the drain. Meanwhile, across the ocean, America was The Story™—complete with high-octane Clintons, shiny cruise missiles, and a musical invasion force of pop, rock, and every other overproduced genre that could be exported through MTV.

Russian scientists were fleeing to MIT, figure skating coaches were defecting to train future American Olympians, and the youth? They were hypnotized by American rock. That’s where I found Metallica—or maybe, Metallica found me. My Russian friend told me when Metallica performed in Moscow, over a million people showed up. A million people, just to scream their angst in unison. Ah, the sweet smell of freedom… and body odor.

Ever since, I had one humble dream on my bucket list: see Metallica live.

Flash forward about three decades. 2025. Toronto. The Rogers Centre. Metallica was coming. Still touring, still singing, still surviving the death of CDs and the Spotify streaming pennies. I, now a veteran of capitalism’s slow soul-crushing grind, decided to check that box on my bucket list.

But it was recession season, baby. The economy was in the toilet and I hesitated like a man deciding between paying rent or buying a concert ticket. I chose Metallica. But just barely. I bought the cheapest seat available—strategically located in what I can only describe as the oxygen-thin atmosphere of the stadium’s nosebleeds. My seat was less a “seat” and more a 2'x2'x2' cube of existential discomfort.

Before Metallica, Limp Bizkit performed. Yeah, that Limp Bizkit. Surprisingly good. Nostalgia kicked in. It was like watching your weird cousin finally get it together. The rows beside me were empty, so I could sway a bit, even move my knees. Freedom! Or so I thought.

Then Metallica came on.

Suddenly, my neighbor seats were filled. Every square inch of that cube was now occupied—knees touching, elbows clashing. It was economy class on a budget airline, but with louder bass and no free peanuts. I tried to enjoy it, I really did. The music was good. But the experience? Not so much.

It hit me then: this was capitalism’s final encore. Maximize ticket sales. Shrink the seats. Charge you for air. Just like planes, just like housing, just like everything. Cramp the soul out of every good thing.

And honestly? Limp Bizkit was more fun. More people danced to them. Maybe because their beats didn’t come wrapped in a $300 nostalgia tax.

So here I am, thirty years later, bucket list checked—but with a side of buyer’s remorse. I doubt I’ll go see any more “big name” bands. Unless they start offering standing room with dignity.

Metallica was carved into the desks of despair in 90s Russia. Today, it’s carved into capitalism’s receipt paper. Greed wins again.

But damn... I still kinda love the music.

Wish there was less greed in this world.
Or at least more legroom.

On Your Knees, Generals

Ah, the Subcontinent — where nuclear powers are run like testosterone-fueled WhatsApp groups and diplomatic strategy involves more flexing than a gym selfie.

Let’s take a stroll down memory lane, shall we?

Remember that time when terrorists attacked the Indian Parliament and India, in its classic "yeh kabhi nahi bhoolenge"mode, mobilized a full military standoff at Pakistan’s border?
In the midst of all that chest-thumping, missile-rattling tension — boom — enters General Pervez Musharraf, Pakistan’s then-military overlord, suddenly discovering his inner dove of peace.

What did he do? The man basically slid into Vajpayee’s DMs, or rather his handshake, at the Agra Summit — while everyone back home pretended it was some diplomatic “win.” Spoiler: it wasn’t. His legs were metaphorically (or maybe literally) shaking, and he folded faster than a cheap lawn chair.

Fast forward to 2025.
Same region, same playbook, new cast.

After the Pahalgam terrorist incident, India’s Modi — never one to miss a photo-op with military might — has handed Indian generals the green light to “act as they see fit.” Which basically means: do something aggressive, but let’s keep it deniable enough to trend on Twitter but not start WWIII.

And now, cue the shaking boots on the other side.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, it’s Leg Day in Rawalpindi — not at the gym, but in GHQ. Pakistani generals are reportedly trembling, not from the cold or caffeine withdrawal, but from the PTSD of past standoffs where the only "honor" salvaged was in press releases.

But hold on — its bit easier this time
Enter the bloody civilian fig leaf.
Pakistan now has a “pseudo-democracy” in place, which means the generals still run the show, but instead of walking up themselves to shake hands or make peace overtures, they'll probably just nudge some poor civilian puppet forward:

“Hey Prime Minister... yeah, you — the one with no actual power — go wave that olive branch. We’ll be right behind you… about 300 feet behind you… in a tank… facing the other way.”

So now the real question isn’t whether the Pakistani military will get on its knees — but who will do it on their behalf.

Grab your popcorn. Or better yet, your Kevlar.
Because in this South Asian reality show, the plot twists are nuclear-powered, and the generals?
They're always just one press conference away from kneeling.