09.12.08
Agar Tujh Pai Jaan Ho Nisar (If I laid my life for you…)
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…”
Refugee said,
October 7, 2008 at 9:17 pm
Heart touching tale. I went to PAF College Masroor and those were one fine days.
Marigold said,
October 7, 2008 at 11:20 pm
Thank you, Refugee, and welcome to my blog
ashar said,
February 13, 2009 at 5:59 am
it is again that time of the year wherein some very brave sons of the soil laid their lives for our beloved motherland as per the highest traditions of this country’s armed services. i cannot describe how honoured i feel to have such seniors in our ranks setting examples for us to follow, motivating us to do the same whenever demanded. i tell u mari that embracing this shahadat in the line of duty, for the love of this country is something every single person in uniform dreams about. those including these 17 brave men, who have already sipped this taste, are fortunate as they are being treated in the most prestigious manner not only in this world but in the other one as well. and now, since they rest with Allah Almighty, we are assured that He must be treating them better than we could, had they still been with us. they are not dead. they are alive n shall remain so forever. for the families, i must say that they deserve to be paid the highest mark of respect as these mothers, fathers, wives, children, sisters n brothers prepare these men to make the prime sacrifice without any fear. So why wouldn’t these families cry? does this in any manner imply that the mother doesnt love her son? the sister n brother doesnt love her brave brother? or the wife n children dont need their loving husband n father. naaa… the answer lies in what aunty said n u mentioned that they did it for their country and this must have caused them great joy. lastly mari, we remember these brave men, we remember them now n they shall be in our hearts n our minds till our own very end.
Salutes to the Shaheeds n Salutes to their Families.
sadi said,
February 21, 2009 at 8:34 pm
Thanks for sharing this. Alot of us who were raised in pak go through this and I wish the best. However, Pakistan should be close to your heart as it is and must never be stowed away.
SOme of us can never do it.
I have respect for every man who wears the uniform of Pakistan Armed Forces. May the great men rest in peace and those who are serving a thankless nation, remain steadfast! For Allah is with the steadfast.
Thanks for sharing such a poignant piece. I hope random encouragement from people brings you solace and reaffirms your faith that you are not alone.
Bilal said,
February 23, 2009 at 11:55 am
I am the proud friend of “Abdul Rab”, its been a while since this accident has been happened, but I am still unable to forget my old friend, he is Shaheed mashALLAH but I can feel his love, I feel he is still with me and will remain with me forever.
I can see his face smiling, but whenever i see his face smiling my eyes become wet.
I miss him a lot, still after a lot of years I still miss him.
ashar said,
February 24, 2009 at 11:59 am
sadi, thanks very much for sharing your thoughts. a buck up surely revives the energy n one’s belief in a cause. However, i beg to contest with the word “Thankless Nation”. you see an individual is the unit of a society or, for that matter, a nation. n there are good individuals n the bad ones. now im not talkin here about whoz in majority. wat i mean to highlight is that by using such words, we may discourage those good ones, who are sincere to this country, even if they are in a moniroty of no comparison. i believe that even one single individual can reform the whole society. imagine, how sensational it feels to catch sight of a single blooming flower among of a bunch of clumsy odd bushes. i think we should project n promote the good n hide the ugly bad. i think with a very little contribution of every person, even if it is limited to a few words of encouragement, we can bring a refreshing change in the fate of this nation.
thanks again for the nice words u said about the servicemen.
ashar said,
February 24, 2009 at 1:00 pm
halo bilal, he surely was a great man. a gem of a person indeed. you are one lucky person that u know him better than i do n that he was ur good friend. or must i say still IS ur one good friend. to tell u the truth, i happened to meet him only twice though i did get a chance to talk to him on phone at a few occasions afterwards. it so happened that on my way back from my office in islamabad, my car developed some mysterious problem n i had to pull it over by the side. i was only thinking about how to deal with this one when an airforce van stopped by and a very smartly turned-out officer wearing sqn ldr’s ranks stepped out n asked me “Sir is everything all right?” n i said “doesnt look that alright sir”. the tone of my answer must have amused him i guess n with a smile, he looked at my disgruntled vehicle n said “leave it over here sir. ill drop u at ur place n u can bring sum mechanic along in the evening to take care of ur car”. convinced with his suggestion, or was it an order… i dont no… , i locked my car n boarded the van alongwith him. in say about 30 minutes or so, i learnt so many things about this officer whoz name was sqn ldr abdul rab. he was such a lively person who was larger than life. he talked so authoratively that i never dared submitting anything in contrary. the reason was not that i was a Lt n he was a sqn ldr. it was rather, whatever he used to say was so convincing, logical and always made sense. anyways… watever little chance i got to know him, i found him a man of honour, a man of his words, a man of a good heart and soul. someone who was always ready to extend his help. someone who loved flying so passionately that i told him “sir you shouldve had played Maverick in the Top Gun instead of tom cruise”.
upon hearing about his shahadat, the very first thing that struck me was that he has got what he wished n prayed for.
i wish i knew this person more. but whatever little i do know about him assures me that he would be at peace and Allah Almighty would be takin care of him in a manner even beyond mine or your imagination. n remember, smiles are always returned with smiles n not tears. right? ur tears might be hurting him isnt it???
so from today onwards when you see him smiling, return him with your own smile n u’l see how comfortable does that make him.
n one last thing, we miss only those people who are taken away from us. for people who live inside ourselves cannot be missed. right bilal???
he is not dead as i said earlier. this star is here with all of us n forever shall be.
hope to hear from u again.
Marigold said,
February 26, 2009 at 4:35 am
Thank you, all, for your kind comments and sweet anecdotes.