One of my
strongest childhood memory remains setting an alarm for 6am to welcome the
morning of 14th August. My family would be settled comfortably in the living
room, enjoying the TV transmission that began with the Parade at Mazar-e-Quaid
and led into many colorful and patriotic songs and programs. I would look out
the window at the big flag hoisted a week earlier, along with small buntings,
at the roof top, swaying to the songs of freedom.
I would
sometimes march through the house, sharing my sentiment on equal rights to love
and protect my country’s name. I would secretly create a picture of self as a
soldier amidst fire and enemy, carrying out the impossible. And that love would
finally find its destiny at 10pm when PTV would air the great Nishan-e Haider, a
long play, showcasing the sacrifices rendered to safeguard the sovereignty of
our country, Pakistan.
It was a
day to celebrate, reminisce and as a child, it did reinforce a strong sense of
identity. Sometimes my grandmother would be visiting and she would tell tales
of the partition, being a very young woman with many daughters, migrating to
Pakistan. I remember the tears in her eyes and her shaking voice as she said,
“Early morning they would call out, Bibion (Ladies)…Qafla tayyar hey (the
caravan is ready),” and then she would cry. As children, we really couldn’t
grasp on to that intense emotion, but it spoke a lot about sacrifice, and a
relinquished life.
At night my
parents would take us all out for a fun drive through the city and we would
witness the national institutions all decorated with lights and flags all
around. Young boys would be seen on their motor bikes in large groups holding
flags and singing songs. There was a sense of togetherness and oneness.
I’m 42
today and have been living in the UAE for the past 26 years. With Allah’s
grace, many summers have been with family, in Pakistan. And what drove me to
write this piece, are the many realizations that have come to light through the
growing years.
What was
that ‘Junoon’ that made me set an alarm for 6am to watch that dignified parade?
Why was a flag not enough to express the love and solidarity? Why did we spend
an entire evening decorating the roofs, chatting with neighbours alongside?
What made the impact of patriotic songs and plays so lasting? How come, there
was always someone to share the journey with us. And no matter how crowded the
streets were, it was impending that we witnessed the unanimity of love and
cohesion.
And the
more I think about it, the more I realize that ‘Parents’ and the ‘Efforts’ that
they make towards instilling a sense of pride and strong identity in you, are
integral to that spirit of Being Pakistani.
As a child,
I only heard and saw good things about Pakistan. There were few arguments
related to politics and were mostly aimed at viewing global impact and there
was always space for improvement. I was never suffocated with talk shows and
24/7 news updates. My parents never expressed any regrets, anger or abuse at
the country or Politicians.
Today, as a
parent, I feel content that all my holidays are spent in Pakistan, and my
children have developed a sense of belonging and identity in the process.
However, I feel that so much more is missing. And I too, like many parents,
tend to be careless and ignorant with words when expressing myself. Much too
often, it is alright to say, “They will never change”, “It’s beyond repair”, “What
do you expect from them”, “It’s a waste of time,” and sarcastically, “welcome
to Pakistan”.
How do our
children react to these casual remarks? They hear them all around, from people
they look up to, and believe. They are passive and sometimes active listeners. They
are growing up with this negativity. What sense of pride are we instilling in
them? What efforts are we making towards solidifying their identity? Why have
we accepted 14th August, as a mere holiday?
For the
past two years, we as a family, made a conscious effort to stop at a roadside
stall to buy little pin flags, green caps, glasses, bands and a big flag. The kids
were excited but more than them, we enjoyed the much direly needed expression
of love. The gratitude of having a homeland, a place of belonging.
Maybe, the
secret picture of myself as a soldier amidst fire and enemy, carrying out the
impossible today, truly represents the need to renew my faith in my country and
the need to make a conscious effort to awaken a sense of pride and strong
identity in my children.
To all the
Parents out there…..Pakistan Zindabad!
