The Secret of Success: Humility or Arrogance

A man, holding his cap with one hand, rushes towards a shiny car parked under a shed and whispers into the driver’s ear. Immediately, the environment outside stirs into action. The sleek car, which was parked in the shade of the office just moments before, being meticulously maintained by the driver who dusted it regularly, preventing even a fly from landing on it, is now quickly brought as close as possible to the office door, fully alert. The driver steps out and stands respectfully, facing the office, waiting for his superior.

Soon, the door to the large office opens. A peon comes out, holding a briefcase and morning newspapers, followed by another man with files in hand. The back door of the car is opened by someone standing with a bowed head, while the files, briefcase, and newspapers are carefully placed on the seat. The seat next to the driver is pushed forward as much as possible, creating ample space in the back for the superior to stretch their legs comfortably. If it’s hot, the air conditioning is turned on twenty minutes before the superior leaves the office.

The superior emerges with an air of indifference. Those around instantly become still, conversations cease, those in dishevelled uniforms straighten their caps, and smokers hurriedly extinguish or hide their cigarettes. The rear door, opposite to the driver’s side, is opened by a person standing with head lowered. The superior takes a seat, and with a subtle gesture, the driver smoothly drives the car away, disappearing from the scene. Throughout the journey, the superior either flips through newspapers or, if a file seems important, reviews it. He avoids coughing as much as possible, and if he does, he appears deeply ashamed of this inconvenience.

In this entire journey, the driver’s role is no more than that of a cog in a machine. It’s as if the company has fixed him like a steering wheel, gear, or seat—merely there to listen to orders and execute them: “Stop here, take me there, wait for me here, I’ll be back in three hours.” The driver, like a robot, nods or responds obediently. This scene is visible outside any office or institution where a person of authority resides, whether governmental or private, be it a minister’s office, a secretary’s, a general’s headquarters, or a court. It could be the offices of a private company or the grand building of a bank—everywhere, the same seat is reserved for the powerful and influential. Wherever their car arrives, people rush to open the same door.

When I witness these scenes in Pakistan, I often wonder: why don’t these people sit in the seat next to the driver? Is it not comfortable? Does the air conditioning not work well in that seat? Does the view of the road, buildings, or people not appear clearly from there? But the answer to all these questions is negative. The front seat is just as comfortable, if not more, and the air conditioning is more pleasant in the front. The outside view is perfectly visible from there too. So, why does the front seat remain empty, or why is it occupied by a staff officer or personal assistant?

In truth, this story is one of contempt, and the tale is of arrogance, where the driver’s status is reduced to less than human, akin to those who once drove the grand chariots of kings and emperors. How could a person of high rank and stature possibly sit next to the driver, making it indistinguishable to onlookers who the officer is and who the lowly driver is? There was a time when these arrogant officers, ministers, generals, and high-ranking officials had to travel in small vehicles with uncomfortable and cramped back seats, but arrogance finds its way. The front seats were folded down entirely, and new methods were invented to maintain the distinction between master and servant. This behaviour has been prevalent in all nations that devised ways to enslave and oppress others.

In America, under the “Jim Crow” laws, black people’s seats on buses were separate from white people’s and were located at the back. If a black person dared to sit in the front, they could be shot, while a white person sitting in the back would face mockery and scorn. Even in London today, black taxis have a fixed glass partition between the driver’s seat and the passengers. The small window can only be opened by the passenger, determining the driver’s status, rank, and when to communicate with him. For centuries, the rides of pharaohs, emperors, dictators, and their small-time lackeys were such that they had no connection to the common people. These vehicles, raising dust, not only mocked the masses but also reinforced the divisions between humans—the law of master and slave.

Yet, there are also many scenes that one witnesses here which the eyes cannot forget, preserving them for centuries. A few years ago, a four-star General from Pakistan was travelling with me in the car. When the vehicle stopped at a traffic signal, I noticed that in the adjacent lane, the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom was also waiting for the light to change. I immediately invited my guest to look towards the other lane and said, “Do you know that the person sitting in the back seat of that car is the Prime Minister of this country?” As soon as I waved towards the Prime Minister, he responded by waving back several times, thanking me.

Just then, the traffic signal turned green, and we both continued on our way. My guest remained silent for the rest of the journey. I do not know if there was some sense of remorse in that silence, or perhaps he simply had no answer to my question.

In our country, the President and Prime Minister are usually distant from the public, but when they do go out, they are accompanied by a convoy of hundreds of siren-blaring vehicles. I have heard that even the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court travels with a squad of twenty cars. The Minister of Interior, who is responsible for the safety of the citizens, does not go anywhere without a heavy security entourage surrounding him. Nowadays, even junior ministers refuse to travel without security and siren-guarded vehicles.

In this atmosphere of arrogance, pride, and disgust towards the very people who serve them for hours, ensuring their comfort, I often find myself reminiscing about the past, and the noble standards set by our ancestors come to mind. When Muslims, wearing tattered clothes, conquered Jerusalem, which had been ruled by Christians living like Roman emperors, they awaited the arrival of the Caliph, Umar Farooq. The leader who was about to take over the city was the same Caliph Umar, the conqueror of Persia and Syria. He was travelling on a horse whose hooves had worn out, struggling to walk. The arrangement was that half the way the servant would ride, and the other half, the Caliph. As they neared Jerusalem, it was the servant’s turn to ride the horse, while the Caliph held the reins and entered the city on foot. The Roman Christians, dressed in their royal finery, could only say one thing: “Indeed, such a man is worthy of honour, and to such a person belongs victory.”

Even after hearing this historic statement, if someone asks me why we are disgraced and humiliated in this world, why we are without honour and support, I am not surprised!

Our Prime Minister is set to depart for the United Kingdom and the United States on 21st September, where he is scheduled to meet with global financial institutions. He has remarked that these institutions, after making us bend over backwards, will offer us loans tainted with the curse of interest.

May the name of my Lord remain, in whose hands lie honour and disgrace!

یہ آرزو تھی کہ ہم اس کے ساتھ ساتھ  چلیں

مگر  وہ  شخص تو ر  ستہ  بدلتا  جاتا ہے

وہ بات کہہ  ،جسے دنیا  بھی معتبر سمجھے

تجھے  خبر  ہے ،  زمانہ  بدلتا  جاتا ہے

This was our wish, to walk beside him,
But he keeps changing his path.
Say the words that the world, too, would deem credible,
Are you aware, the times are changing?