Chapter VI: On the nation's forgotten hero

The first time I heard Aziz Bhatti Shaheed’s story was around 1989 and I just fell in divine love at our national hero’s sheer kickassinism. Interestingly, I was in this Indian school in Qatar at the time and us minority Pakis often had political quarrels with the majority Indians (yes, I was only in the 1st grade but the patriotism and passion were already intense). And I don’t mean physical brawls, I just mean really silly verbal and often musical exchanges like “Hindus eat cow potty” followed by elongated eww’s or hawww’s, or some fantastic song which went something like “tum kachray ka dabba ho, yay kachra tumhara hai".

Now naturally we never argued in front of the teachers because we would get in serious trouble if we were ever caught (I’d like to say that the teachers, who were all Indians, sided with Indian kids and punished us Pakis, but that never happened. They were disturbingly unbiased, which was upsetting because an unbiased, good Indian was a paradox). So these heated debates usually took place around recess or lunch when the teachers were away and we were free to be in our true Machiavellian states.

I vaguely recall us exchanging the same kiddy blows over lunch one day when Tariq (don’t remember his real name) decided he couldn’t take anymore crap from the Indians. It was quite a momentous day for us because he took the fight to an entirely different level and the Indians were just not ready for it (btw, a quick reminder, I’m still talking about 6 year olds here). After a comment from some Indian kid about some war he had heard of happen between Pakistan and India in which India had defeated Pakistan (probably 1971), Tariq went into a brilliant story-telling mode and began the wondrous tale of Aziz Bhatti Shaheed. Our world changed that day because the Indians were in almost the same awe as us Pakis, and we were all just in tears at the pure awesomeness of this one man. I mean we were bawling with huge smiles, overcome with an insurmountable feeling of love and pride, while the Indians were crying because they had probably realized their soldiers were lollypop thieves in comparison. I don’t remember what the teacher’s expression was when she entered the class to find every single one of us weeping but I imagine it must’ve been quite a sight for her. The story has had such a profound impact that it is impossible for me not to state his complete name when speaking of Aziz Bhatti Shaheed. We even had our own triple-hit combo shout on his name that involved a left jab, right jab and a roundhouse kick. In telling you the story of this demi-god, I am going to try and maintain that childhood spirit and pride that Tariq brought out when he introduced us to our nation's only true hero.

Aziz Bhatti Shaheed was the epitome of what legends are made of. He was born in Hong Kong at a Shaolin temple to a Rajput family and later moved to Gujrat before partition. Now Rajputs have been known throughout history to have brought the pain in asskicking since the time the British invaded and left weeping back to England to drown their humiliation over gallons of sherry. The Bhattis, however, were in a class of their own. In spite of a very simple, non-elitist background, the Bhattis excelled in being the masters of whatever they aspired to do yet showed humility and respect to friends and foes alike. Not surprisingly, Aziz Bhatti Shaheed’s father was known in the oriental world as ‘the Master’ for his incredible wisdom and knowledge of the universe and unarmed combat. He had travelled far and wide to teach his ways in Asia and was revered as the founder of the way of the warrior. In fact, China’s age-old alliance to Pakistan is singly attributed to the respect she has for Master Abdullah Bhatti and all that he had taught her people.

In addition to his superior wisdom and martial arts, Master Abdullah Bhatti was known for his uncanny ability to produce children with super powers. For instance, Aziz Bhatti Shaheed’s eldest brother, Bashir, is known as the first person from the subcontinent to have impregnated Japanese men during World War II. In a last desperate attempt to stop the madness and humiliation he had brought to the empire, the Japanese, upholding seppuku from their bushido principles of honor, nuked themselves in Hiroshima where he had been rending Japanese buttholes. Even though the bomb landed a few meters from where he was 'goating' a Japanese soldier, Bashir survived the fallout and fled to Nagasaki to continue his reign of destruction. Three days later, the Japanese nuked Nagasaki and though he survived that attack as well, God decided the world was not ready for Bashir’s awesomeness and had him beamed up to heaven, where the angel Mikael suffered a black eye from Bashir’s fist when he foolishly asked the soldier to relieve his sidearm.

Aziz Bhatti Shaheed was on a completely different level of awesomeness. It was reported that in 1926 when Aziz Bhatti Shaheed was born, a state of emergency was declared in Hong Kong when tremors sizing 13.2 on the Richter scale rippled through the region. The event was never documented because no casualties or damages were reported. Aziz Bhatti Shaheed’s birth doctor, Dr. Sum Ting Wong, described the birth as follows: -

“When I first see uterus, bright light come from inside. I say wow! I was a so scared. I go through same experience when other Bhatti kids born but this light was a more bright. At first I tell a Bibi Amna, I no do birth. But then wata' break and light go brighter. Then WHOLE building shake! But I good docta', so I reach in and tell mother to push. She push and building shake harder, but baby no come out. Then my Chinese vase fall and break and then I more scared. But I keep trying. Finally I see head and I take baby out. I hold baby and big light fill entire room. I don’t see anything. Then shaking stop and baby peacefully smile like he da man. I say to Bibi Amna, 'That's it, ok? I no give birth to your children no more!'”

From that moment on, it became evident that Aziz Bhatti Shaheed was meant for greatness. After spending his childhood in Hong Kong teaching grandmasters the secrets behind levitation, telekinesis and catching bullets using one’s toes, Aziz Bhatti Shaheed moved to the village of Ladian in Gujrat district and enlisted in the Punjab regiment in 1950. To no one’s surprise, Aziz Bhatti Shaheed annihilated all military regimen records and though he was to be promoted from Major straight to Chief of Army Staff, Aziz Bhatti Shaheed generously refused the offer and claimed he would rather serve with his men on the frontlines than from some villa atop the Margala hills.

On September 6, 1965, the Indian army decided they had nothing better to do and invaded Pakistan by moving troops in through the eastern parts of Punjab. When news of India’s folly reached Aziz Bhatti Shaheed, he was filled with an immeasurable rage, a rage so intense that it caused a spontaneous genitalia change within the Indian army. Mounting his BTR-70 armored personnel carrier armed with twin M61 Vulcan cannons, Aziz Bhatti Shaheed blazed through the Punjabi countryside and joined his troops at the frontlines in the Burki sector of Lahore. The events that followed are still in the minds of every Indian soldier who was spared and when asked what happened to them that week, they put it simply as “it was like losing your virginity, only not fun”.

The Indians had been sending in their tanks wave after wave in an effort to penetrate through to central Punjab and would have been successful had it not been for Aziz Bhatti Shaheed. Upon arrival at his post, Aziz Bhatti Shaheed was told that the defense was weakening and that the Indians would be breaking through any moment. “Not on my watch”, he said with a frown so forbidding it would make Chuck Norris wet himself. Not a moment later, the roar of a thousand Indian M4 Sherman tanks shook the grounds of the Pakistani outpost. While Pakistani soldiers mobilized and manned their anti-tank artillery, Aziz Bhatti Shaheed fearlessly climbed the highest point to better gauge the enemy’s formation. Like a god commanding his troops from the heavens, Aziz Bhatti Shaheed strategically placed artillery at the weakest points and rather than holding his ground, ordered his troops to trudge forward as they gained ground. Stunned by the audacity of a supposedly weak army, the Indians laughed in the joy of an incumbent victory. Little did they know that the military was not being commanded just by anybody, it was under the command of Aziz Bhatti Shaheed.

For three days straight, the Pakistani army obliterated every tank that even considered moving forward. In fact, it was found that 70% of the Indian tanks were obliterated before the driver had even switched on the vehicle just because of the sheer magnitude and numbers of artillery fires that were dropping around the Indians like meteors from hell. Relentlessly commanding his soldiers from his higher ground without any sleep or food, claiming food was for pussies, Aziz Bhatti Shaheed continued to bring the destruction on the Indians despite their chaotic retreat. On the fourth day of incessant firing and exporting constipation-inducing fear on the Indian army, a commanding officer from Islamabad dispatched a note via the radio asking him to stop for a while. Though the soldiers under Aziz Bhatti Shaheed’s command had been filled with bloodlust simply by being in his aura and thus did not feel the need for food or sleep, Aziz Bhatti Shaheed realized that in spite of their unrelenting intrepidity, they were still human and ordered them to rest. When one of his fellow comrades mistakingly suggested that Aziz Bhatti Shaheed should do the same, he reprimanded the soldier at the absurdity of the question with a grimace that sent him into a temporary epileptic shock. Nonetheless, when told this was his wife’s request, Aziz Bhatti Shaheed reluctantly came down. Not a moment later, an Indian artillery turret made the fatal mistake of shooting down his higher post and while other soldiers jumped for cover, Aziz Bhatti Shaheed, unperturbed by the falling debris around him, stared out into the distance from where the shot had been fired.

“Mistaaaaake!” he shouted with a tone so foreboding that it caused mass defecation in the Indian army (It was reported that 3% of the Indian army died instantaneously from the defecation while another 7% succumbed to the dysentery that ensued from the ominous cry).

Jumping back up to the destroyed post, he brought what can only be described as ultimate and utter doom in its purest form. Giving off an aura that rendered his enemies impotent and gave his comrades the ability to shoot fusion bombs from their turrets, Aziz Bhatti Shaheed and his troops caused a hurricane of devastation so immense that the Indians who managed to survive had their heads dislocated from their vertebrae by the enormity of Pakistani firepower. In fact, the effects of that day still persist in the Indian people, for as you may have noticed, Indians can't nod and instead bobble their heads when showing approval.

On September 11, having brought the real 9/11 on the Indian army, Aziz Bhatti Shaheed’s awesomeness began to grow endlessly and his earthly body, unable to withhold all that power in one being, succumbed to its spirit. While it has been said that he died after a shell hit his chest, the truth has purposely been hidden from the West lest they try and use Aziz Bhatti Shaheed’s DNA for cloning and bioligical research.

Upon his death, the Indian army thanked their gods by consuming tons of cow dung. But what they didn’t know was that his spirit had imploded and gone into the being of every Pakistani. When the war finally came to an end, Pakistanis, rather than weeping at his demise, felt an overwhelming feeling of wonderment, for they knew that his spirit and awesomeness had actually been fused with their own souls and he had indeed been immortalized.

Author's Note: If you would like to contest the authenticity of this story, immediately consult your nearest physician for stupidity. Symptoms may include frustration, angry outbursts, inability to interpret humor and anal irritation possibly brought on by insufficient breastfeeding in infancy.