And here I lay to rest another friendship.

But proper respect should be paid before the actual burial. Or should it. Is it even worth that?

To try and recall all the memories, the good memories, the time spent believing this was forever; why? Why put myself through more anguish than you already have. No I’ll pass on that.

As I put a final nail in the coffin of our friendship, I realize something; there are many headstones beside this new one that just grew in my heart, but there is something a little different about this one. For on this one is not just the name of our friendship but every other that I was going to have in my life. Yes, with the leave of this relationship, died the hope of any other I’d ever have.

Yes, I’m officially done with friendship. I’m just stupid and naive to not do this sooner like everyone else.

For once in my life, I’m not going to blame myself for this casulty. Because for once in my life, I’m 100% sure that I had nothing to do with killing this one. For once in my life, I know I was nothing but good to you. This is good though, because it proves that for most people, love is not enough or even what they need. Why, all this time, was I expending so much energy loving people who’d rather not “complicate” things with love?

How foolish I was. How trusting.

Today, for the first time, I feel grown up. I’ve learnt an important lesson in life today. Today, I’ve had to severe a part of myself that I’d considered sacred. From today, I’ll never be the Mari I was.

There will be “friends”, yes but they will be only a little more dispensable than the furniture in my living room. They will adorn my life and fill my days but my heart will remain empty.

Never ever again will anyone see the inside of this heart. What was good and beautiful once is ugly and sordid now and for that, you will stay away. And that’s the only forever I will associate with friendship again.

…when nothing I tell myself will alleviate the dull ache in my heart.  When all I want is to just fly across all those cruel miles in the blink of an eye. When all the festivities here seem painfully fabricated and forced. When I can’t shut out those images of happy pre-Eid times when I went shopping with my family; trying to find the perfect outfit; Papa and Mama so earnest about me getting exactly what I wanted, no matter what the cost. And no matter if we spend the entire night scouring each every store in Islamabad (and Pindi). Ah, that just made me smile.

Memories.

Sigh.

I’m just gonna come out and cry right now.. ok? Haven’t done it in a while, anyway. Been too busy being brave n all. So excuse me while I feel sorry for myself and have a darn good cry.

*Ten minutes later*

Alright. Done. Still feel crappy. Oh well.

Well, you have a good Eid, anyway and who knows, perhaps I will too, inshaAllah. God is kind. Very kind. He listens.

Lately, I’ve stowed away Pakistan and everything related to it in a part of my brain that is rarely accessed. I’ve discovered that I can’t talk to most people here about my true feelings for the country that raised me. If I want to be accepted, I have to keep my love for Pakistan at bay. However, it is always there, tucked away safely in the deep recesses of my heart. And from time to time, I like to remember why I love this land of heathens so much. Why greener pastures have not won me over. Here’s a story that might give you a glimpse to the answers you so searchingly ask.

It’s a beautiful winter afternoon in Feburary 2003. I’m enjoying a free period in my Univeristy with my friends. It’s a day like any other day in my carefree life. Until I see my brother approach me with a grave look and pull me aside. What he tells me stuns me into silence for a moment. I can’t believe it. This can’t be! I suddenly realize I have to be the bearer of this terrible news to a darling friend of mine. How will she take this? What will she do? This is horrible!

I stall for a while but eventually realize I have to do this. So I seek out Samna. She’s having a class upstairs. I gingerly knock on her classroom door and ask her professor if I can please talk to her. He gruffly tell me, after class. I’m forced to walk inside and whisper the terrible news. The shock registers on the Professor’s face. He abruptly tells Samna she is excused. Samna has witnessed the change of expression and tone on her Professor’s face. She knows something awful has happened. She grabs her stuff and rushes out of the room with me.

“What is it, Mari? What happened?”, she says.

I can’t get the words out. I don’t know what to say.

“Is it Papa?”, her eyes implore for an explanation. ”Did he have a heart attack? Is he gonna be ok?”

Tears well up in my eyes and I choke on the words. I can’t say it. I can’t.

*********** Rewind 7 years *********

I hate walking outside alone. I wish I had a friend who lived close by and we could walk together and have delicious gossip-sessions. Oh, who’s that? It’s the girl from next door. She looks terribly guarded. Why couldn’t she have been friendlier? She’s about my age, we could have been great friends. Our dads hang out often, so do our moms, come to think of it, so do our siblings, why can’t she and I connect? What’s her name anyway?

Oh here she comes. What do you know! Is she coming to talk to me? Delivering a message for her mom, perhaps?

“You’re Mari, Neelum aunty’s daughter?”, she says.

“Yes, and you are…?”

“Samna, your next door neighbor.”

“Ah yes, I’m aware. Nice to meet you.”

“Same here. You mind if I join you in your stroll?”

“Oh! Not at all!”

And thus began a long and wonderful friendship that would endure the trying tests of time and much more. A friendship that would have many beautiful moments, and not a single one of regret. Incidentally, she had three siblings just like myself; a brother an year younger than herself who was friends with my brother, another brother who was again friends with my other brother and our two sisters were the first to befriend eachother and that too, when they were barely out of diapers.

It was simply our biggest joy that we were next door neighbors; there was no end of fun and mischief as all us siblings contrived to make the most of it. Half the time we were living out of each other’s homes. The other half time, we were planning daily excursions around the complex (we lived in a PAF complex). Our parents were forever comparing notes over our mischieves. It was simply grand.

The best part was that our parents’ were best friends because it meant every time we visited the others’ home, our parents were so engrossed in their adult chatter that they paid little attention to our antics. Even when we were no longer neighbors, the friendship only strengthened and Samna’s family would visit us often and when my Dad left the Air Force and started his own business, Samna’s dad and my dad became business partners. Needless to say, they were more like our family than anything else.

****** Fast Forward to 20th Feb, 2003*****

Samna looks at me questioningly. By now, she knows something is horribly wrong.

“Mari, tell me what it is??!! If it’s Papa’s heart, he’ll be ok, he alreay had one bypass and survived.. he’ll be ok..”

I have to stop her and say the dreaded words, “Samna, honey…… he won’t be.. he won’t be ok….. he died… in a plane crash this morning!!!!!!”

The color drains from her face and she whimpers like a wounded kitten that it can’t be her Papa. No, not him. Not her beloved father. But it’s true and as she falls in my arms, my heart breaks for her and for the wonderful man her father was.

The Fokker F27, S. no. J-10254, crashed into the Cherat mountain range in a remote region of northwestern Pakistan near Kohat, killing all 17 people on board. The control tower at the Kohat Air Base lost contact with the Fokker-27 turboprop aircraft shortly before it was to land. The plane had been airborne for only 17 minutes. Those killed were identified as Air Chief Marshall Pakistan Air Force Musaf Ali Mir, Messers Musaf Ali Meer Begum Balqees, Air Vice Marshall Abdul Razzak, Air Vice Marshall M. Saleem A. Nawaz, Air Commodore Syed Javeed Sabir, Air Commodore Rizwan-ullah Khan, Group Captain Aftan Chema, Wing Commander Syed Tabasum Abbass, Squadron Leader and Plane Captain Ahmed, Squadron Leader and Assistant Pilot Abdul-Rab, Squadron Leader Mumtaz Kiyani, Senior Technician Khan Mohammad, Senior Technician Ashraf, Senior Technician Ghaznaffar, CPL Technician Fiyyaz, CPL Technician Khoosh Qada Shah and CPL Technician Amjad Shamil. The Air Force chief was on his way to Kohat from Islamabad to conduct an annual inspection of the air base when the plane went down.

This is where my story ends for no words could do justice to the immense heartache that followed this incidence. But I can tell you that I did not budge for the next two weeks from my friend’s side. I stayed up with her all the nights that she cried herself to sleep. I forced her to eat a morsel of food each day so she wouldn’t starve herself to a skeleton. I consoled her mother and begged her to shed a tear and not be so frightfully quiet. I held my friend firmly as they put her father’s body in a coffin and she tried to stop them. I stood by the grave as the officers of Pakistan Air Force paid this man a beautiful tribute before lowering him to his final resting place. And I can never, ever forget those images or the pain I felt so profoundly for my friend and her family.

Amidst all this anguish was the one hope that this man had died wearing the Uniform; the Uniform that represented his devotion to his country. That he was such a revered man in the Force he served. That he had an entire wall adorned with medals that were a tesatment to his skill and bravey.

I could never stop thinking that this could have been my father. I never stopped thinking that my father wears this same Uniform and stands tall for this country. And how fondly, how easily he says, if I could lay my life for my country, I’d feel I’d served my purpose.

And the one last thing that I can never forget is my friend’s mother; her reslience, her fortitude and her immense strength. When I asked her why she hadn’t shed a single tear in a week of her husband’s death. She said to me,

“Beta, his heart was weak yet he never feared dying from it. He always told me to be strong if his heart failed him but in the end, it wasn’t his heart that took him, it was his country. That must have caused him great joy. There is no need to cry…”

I’m far from what You’d hope from me but I just wanted to tell You that I’m happiest when I stand before you with my fellow worshippers; the Imaam’s words washing over me like crystal waters, cleansing my soul, refreshing my being… I know this is where I belong.

I’m sorry for all my qualms but even in my weakest moments, I’ve never doubted You. I’ve felt your presence, always, even when I ventured a little far from You, I could remember You and feel You, watching over me, waiting for my return. Patient and Kind as always. Thank You.

Yes, I’m far from what You’d hope for me but I know one thing; I’m happiest when I’m close to You.

Forgive me and have mercy upon me for I do…

Love You Always,

Your humble servant.