City lights

INTROSPECTION

I have come to believe that beauty lies in the intricacies of the mundane. It is like when you take the same route to school every single day, always in a rush. But then, one day, you have the opportunity to pass by that same road on a weekend. It is then that you notice that line of bare trees in the sunset, red leaves scattered all around. You’re mesmerized. You pause for a second. Time stops for just a bit, and you can truly appreciate the grand view that was there all along.

The orange of the setting, crimson Sun bleeding out and eventually fading; the serene chirping of the birds in the background; the crunch that reaches your ears as you step out of the car and onto a pile of dead, scarlet leaves. You feel like this is life’s way of repaying you. A moment captured in time, embedded in your mind forever. Like a still picture. Or a shot from a movie. In that instant, several thoughts flood your mind – happy thoughts. Realization hits you as you think of how life is transient. Ephemeral existences will eventually stop existing, but while they are alive, they are beautiful. I have had one such experience as well: a memory that stuck with me. It was during my walk home, back in early November, several years ago.

Islamabad had many great things to offer: traffic, small spaces, greasy food, and greenery all around. It had been just a couple of months since I moved to Islamabad from a more far-flung, non-urban area. Little did I know that accepting it would mean surrendering my freedom and energy. Overall, Islamabad was certainly an experience. I would often take a stroll in the evening. The walk there was eventless. I encountered the occasional group of friends laughing and enjoying themselves and I got a faint taste of homesickness. My headphones played loud rock and I walked in silence, distant from everyone else; and perhaps even myself.

There were people there – entire crowds. It was odd how peaceful I felt among the thousands of strangers present there at the time. Smiles, laughter, and elation could be seen, heard, and felt all around me. Even then, I craved more. I wanted the beauty to last just a moment longer. There was something peculiarly poetic about the entire affair.

Everyone that was present that day had lived a very different life. Yet, life had brought us together to share that one vibrant moment together. Everyone was busy with their own affairs, but a strange sense of harmony lingered about. I felt like a part of something bigger than myself. Bigger than all of us, in fact. For we were all out living life.

To another, it might have simply been another busy night at Beverley Centre in the F-6 Sector of the city. To me, however, it offered a sense of belonging. My view of the city changed almost instantaneously. The once pallid outlook was now nigh non-existent. All that remained were feelings of warmth and acceptance. Those city lights were truly magnificent. I could sense everything in that moment. It was cathartic. In the end, maybe Islamabad was worth calling home after all.