To me Pakistan means the cold wisp of Abbotabad. The roads of PMA. Cadets running in the morning....
HEART TO HEART
Dear Daughter,
To me Pakistan means the cold wisp of Abbotabad. The roads of PMA. Cadets running in the morning. Saluting my dad. Us running around in the lawn with our neighbour kids. Going on drives with Ali Haider's cassette playing. The misty mornings with going to places in winters and listening to Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan. Going to my first Army Public School. Moving to Karachi in the 2000s. That humid breeze still etched to my brain. The almost palpable heat. Watching my dad wear a white navy uniform this time. Going to Bahria College for primary school. Discovering the green coconut. Listening to Hadiqa Kiani and Haroon. Replaying videos in our living room. Going out to play in the evenings without fail. Making sand castles on the beaches. Evenings tasting of salt and mornings tinged with calmness. Moving to Lahore. Remembering the greenery. The richness of the food. The sweltering heat. Going to Garrison School. First time living in an Askari colony home. Spending days on the balcony showering in the monsoon rain. Listening to Abrar ul Haq and Jawad Ahmad. Flying our very first kite in basant. Surrounded by acres of agricultural land.
Visiting the historical Badshahi Masjid, forts, Allama Iqbal’s mazar and Minar e Pakistan. All in the after hours of Lahore city. When it's quieter and more peaceful. The winters creating a cloak over the city's beauty. Enhancing it like a poetic love story. Wrapping it in the aromas of the Food Street. And waking up to years of our hometown in Rawalpindi. Living in our grandparents' house. Being away from dad because he was at the border. Never feeling alone because of how well our grandparents took care of us. Going through grilling years of schooling. Moving to Muzaffarabad. The sound of the river still echoes in my dreams. The water flowing so unapologetically, cutting through mountains. Discovering the peace and tranquillity of Kashmir. Learning about different dishes and imbibing the rawness of this place. Experiencing the tragedy of earthquake and just as much strength of human writ. Moving back alone once again to our grandparents' place and our dad providing relief who later was awarded for his efforts. This time posted in air force. Seeing my dad in his blue uniform. Discovering a new chapter in our life at an air base. Experiencing the peaceful Rawalpindi evenings.
The bustle of markets. And then continuing our stay here for many formative years. Our dad retiring. Us permanently living with our grandparents. So uniquely bonding with them through all these years. Them being super proud when I became a doctor. Sharing with them every happiness and loss. Them passing away so quickly. Missing them on the day we got married. And more so when we became parents. And then growing within our hearts, the love for our parents. Watching them age so heartbreakingly. Wishing time would just stay still.
These eternal moments that the universe bestows on us are what make my country for me. The people that live here make Pakistan. My family is made by Pakistan. For Pakistan. And that is my identity. For better or for worse. Embracing every shortcoming and still surviving and keeping afloat. That is real beauty. That is home. And I hope to rediscover it once again with you. In sha Allah.
Love,
Mama
