My younger brother "Khaab", now aged 14 , had a habit of asking stupid questions when he was a child. Once, his school teacher invited me to discuss his study progress. I went as scheduled to discus his progress report. I was happy to learn that he was doing well, however his teacher showed her concern that Khaab hardly ask questions. I asked my brother if he had any problem in asking questions, he revealed that he had none, however, he would ask questions if his school teacher wanted him to ask.I only managed to smile. Khaab was 7 years old then.
Next day, he asked his teacher;
" Madam, why in words,brought, taught and caught, alphabits 'gh' are silent"?.Poor teacher hardly convinced him. Next day she told me, that Khaab didn't need to ask questions regarding his topic as he was only a trouble maker. Khaab is grown up now and has become my good friend as well. He shares with me whatever he learns in the school from his teachers, the books and the newspaper he reads, the TV programme that he watches on , and above all from "Baba" and "Moor"( my father and mother, the company of whom I miss badly).
Yesterday, I got a message from him, I don't know how on earth does he write these messages and what drives him so!. I am indeed a bit concerned after reading his text message.Is he in love at this young age? or does love mean differently to him like everyone else?. Let me share with you what he texts me;
" Lala( brother), What a pity that in life we only get our lessons when they are of no use to us, what if I fall in love with a girl who happens to be my teacher, strange na? what if she thinks that I am too young to love?Take care, I know, weather in London is getting cold but still hot in here in Pakistan, that's why our emotions are warm and cordial. Yours brother , Khaab".
Khaab intriguing text message left mixed reactions on my face.It reminds me of my childhood, when on my first day into school, I asked my teacher, if she wanted to marry me now or do I have to wait to complete my study first.I only can laugh, for now she has four children, first one aged 10 now.
What is love? how does it feel, when someone is in love? what makes people fall in love with other people....so different yet so similar?. Is that necessary for love to have a language like any other language of communication? If not, can we really express the deepest of deep feelings without words? and above all when we feel something for someone do they feel the same for us or otherwise?
I always tried to answer these questions, but the problem is that the more you think of a suitable answer the less you get a simple conclusion which is important in a logical inquiry. Otherwise, the answer becomes complicated, unlike its question. I will tell you a story of one of my childhood friends- Shahid.
We grew up in the streets of Mohmand Abad, a small but a peaceful village in Peshawar. We both came from the same Pashtun tribe called Mohmand Tribe but different clans. He was Isa Kheil and I was Attamar Khel clan of Mohmand tribe.Pashtun society is tribal in its nature, democratic in spirit and traditional in its living.
Pashtun live a simple and tough life in the mountains of South East of Afghanistan and the North West of Pakistan's tribal areas bordering with Afghanistan,and relatively comfortable life in the rural and urban areas of the province and elsewhere. Since we were born not in Mohmand Agency but in Peshawar, which is the capital city of the province so we had a good access of education and other facilities of life that is necessary to a child in any environment.
Cricket was the game we played most often than any other sports.Every child of my village like others, wanted to be the next Imran Khan or Wasim Akram or Waqar Younis, who were great cricketing heroes of the country. We had a nice cricket team of our village. Cricket was a game of pride for us but above all it always integrate us against other local teams, who were equally good. In summer we used to swum in the stream called "Sheikh Wala", our village was at the bank of the stream. We used to dive into the water in the scorching heat of hot summer, had a nice time in swimming and comes out lying on the sands to give warmth to our bodies, but making sands balls from the sands of the stream was most fascinating.
Swimming makes you hungry and thirsty, we were no different.An empty stomach is far cruel and more active to think of bad things, but when you are child and naughty.....then, no comments.We used to run after chickens in the fields in hot noon when people may not know what we were doing. We used to catch the chicken by throwing grain to fall them in our trap and then roast in the fields with the fire of woods or dry leaves the smell of which goes far in the air.In the evenings, mum used to tell me that the coloured chickens or hen is missing, we used to show our sympathy with poor missing chickens, though we knew , where were they now.
Women in the village thought that some cruel dogs or cats prey their chickens and hens and we always made them believed that we would hunt down those dogs and cats if fall in our hands who were culprit of hunting those innocent creatures... but the story was different. We were far diplomatic and political at our young age than our school mates.Sometimes, during the moonsoon, because of excessive rain the water level of the stream used to rise to such an extent which could easily take us away with its flow, but we we were crazy, and craze always take you away...though you may never know, it will. Lately, I experienced that love may take you away from oneself,like flooded water.
Anyway, Shahid was a cheerful person and less sensitive.He was bold and courageous, he had a future vision to make it big, but he never planned how to make it big. After doing his BA, he intended to study for his LLB, that meant we were together again in the same University. I do remember when first time we established Human Rights organisation in the University, many people round the Campus including administration feared direct involvement of the students in politics, that meant less study and more politics in the campus.Though we proposed 5 points objectives which had little to do with the politics and much to do with human rights issues yet the administration perceived otherwise.
General Musharraf was in power those days, intelligence agencies were more than active in the politics of the country and the opposition forces were literally scattered if not fully banned in the country. It seemed that everybody was a friend to Musharraf and his perverted vision of enlightened moderation, which was neither enlightened nor moderated. Musharraf made the west believed that he was a moderate, a person with a vision that may help them in the war against terrorism, and unfortunately the west believed in these misleading assurances from a person in uniform who himself misguided his own people.
The killings of dozens of innocent people in the Bajaur Agency bordering with Afghanistan at the hands of US helicopters forced us to plan a protest. We convened an emergency meeting within the university to condemn the attacks and to go out for a strike next day in Jinah Park which we planned will go out from the Campus. The administration after knowing the plan, asked the police to arrest me and those who were part of the plan. It was 4:30 AM, three of the police men banged on my door in International Hostel and asked me not to move.
"Are you Farid"? a stupid police man asked having a big torch in his hands.
"yes, I am" I rubbed ny eyes.
"we are here to arrest you", a bulky police officer came in front , showed his anger as if I was the only person, the arrest of whom would give him a quick promotion.
"You are here to arrest me, would you tell me the reason of my arrest"?
"No,we are not suppose to reveal that to you", the police officer became angry and voice was growing louder.
"You don't need to scream or show your heroism to arrest me and disturb my fellow students in other rooms, who are in their deep sleep, I am going with you, but I need to give a call to my father to let him know, where I am going" I replied.
"Don't worry you will do that tomorrow morning", his voice was now a bit low.
I was told that I was a security threat to the administration in general and the peace of the city at large, which was beyond my understanding. Policemen asked me so many question on the way, none of which I considered worth answering.
By late afternoon ,same day, they arrested few of the members, who were later on released when they denied any involvement in the plans. Shahid, who wasn't there in the committee meeting in the campus plan, came to see me in the prison cell.
"What have you made of yourself Farid? , you think that it is easy to change the face of the world with your activism? who cares yaar"?
"Shahid, it is only a small thing, I will be released soon", I smiled.
"I know you getting used to it, but, look yaar things are different, young people at our age focus on their career not other people lives", he was angry but upset.
When quiestioned by the prison officer if he was my friend and also part of the plan, he agreed to that. I asked the officer that though he was my friend but wasn't the part of the plan, and that it is inappropriate to harass him. Shahid was after all my childhood friend and a daring Pashtun, how could he see his childhood friend suffering alone in the prison.
"Yar, why should you suffer with me, when you were not with me in the committee meeting"?, I asked.
"Look Farid, didn't you hear that a Pashtun likes to go with his friend to the hell if he knows his friend is loyal to him, and may refuse to go to the paradise if he feels dishonesty in his friend"? , he continued, " I am your friend yaar, we spent good time of our childhood together, how can I leave you alone like this ....when you are suffering alone", his voice was convincing but down.
I knew my friend so I better thought not to argue with him. He stayed the whole night in the cell with me, we couldn't sleep because of insect bites and also of hot weather. We talked of our good old days of childhood, the making of sand balls on the bank of the Sheikh Wala stream, we made jokes of stealing's of money from our homes, and roasting the chickens in the fields ...the smell of which could catch the attention of the people in that small village and may easily knew who were the culprit of their missing chicken and hens in the scorching heat of the day.
Next morning, we were released after it was revealed to my family members that I was in the prison cell for the whole night. But it never stopped us to speak our hearts when it was much needed.Shahid was always there when I needed him. Activism in my country is not appreciated and is risky as well, but he never feared his personal safety for me.
A year ago, he let me knew that he plans to come to study in the UK, which I highly appreciated. But I was unhappy with the choice of his University which was outside London, which meant that though we might live in the UK but will hardly see each other. On the Heathrow Airport, we hugged and laughed. I guess, few might had presumed that we were gay when he hold on my hands firmly and put his hands on my shoulder...but I thought otherwise...he was like my brother, my childhood friend... my friend of good and bad times.
After few days, he moved to Hertfordshire University and enjoyed much of his time there. He met a girl from an Eastern European country and lived up together. I don't like to mention her name and her country for ethical reasons.I always wished them best in life , for I knew that life would bring tough challenges to these love birds. I asked Shahid quite a few times, what his future plans were and that he should also let her knew what he thought of her. He went on to an extent that he faced growing pressure from his family members over the issue of his relationship. His parents feared that though he loved her but there is every possibility that the might leave him and might become the talk of the town back home in Pakistan. His father requested me to advise his son, however on the other hand, Shahid asked me to convince his parents.Literally I became a middle man or a person who is there to reconcile between two generations. I did exactly that.
I knew the fact that Shahid was a caring person and that he had gone to such an extent where he can't imagine a life without his love. When they first met in a cinema to watch a Hollywood movie, he made a call to me on the next day and told me that he had fallen in love with a girl....
"How do you feel, if that is love?" I asked.
"It was strange ...very strange feeling yaar, I will let you know when I would come down to visit you in London", he replied with a laugh.
Every second day we spoke over the phone, he expressed how deeply he loved her...and I trusted him, because I knew my friend better than he knew himself.
A week ago, few of my friends were down to visit me. I invited Shahid as well... which he happily agreed. On that evening, my Pashtun friends shared different things from the politics of the country to the taste of the music and food we ate. We sat around the fire of the wood with little light of the bulb and much of the moon in which we only can see each other faces, though not clearly. One of my friends suggested that every one of us would talk of issues that affect us. We agreed to that. The first topic he put forwarded for a free discussion was " what is love and that how does it feel when we know that we are in love".
"Is that more important than the current judicial crisis, political violence and growing inflation in the country ...yaar? " I asked with a laugh.
"Yes it is", replied my cousin who was sipping a cup of green tea.
I noticed Shahid was quiet. I asked him if he was feeling well.I knew something had happened but hardly had any clue. My friends were talking in growing voices, and Shahid left the discussion and went to my room. I was now convinced that something had happened, after all I saw rolling tears in his eyes when one of my friends asked "how does it feel when one is in love"?
"Shahid, are you ok?", I asked.
"Yes yaar, I am fine", he replied.
"Then why you left the garden, when everybody was up for a laugh", I enquired.
"Nothing yaar, I just don't feel good", he complained.
"Don't feel good of what?, there is something that you don't want to tell me. Look at me Shahid!" I tried to know.
Shahid was reluctant to look at me and to say what he wanted to say.
"Hows is uncle and aunt back home and the rest of your family members, are you in touch with them", I asked.
"Yes I am , they are fine and happy".
"That is good to hear yaar. Did you personally spoke of your girl friend with your parents that you both plan to marry?"
"Yes, I did".
"So how did they reacted".
"Not positively yaar, they don't like what I am going to do now, they asked me to get a nice Pashtun girl marry in Pakistan, who may live with me forever. It seems, they are an obstacle for me now. how can I leave a girl alone who lived with me for more than a year. After all, how might she think if I leave her like this . I am a Pashtun yaar, I can not absorb if someone call me faithless. I am no child, I can decide what is best for me.You know what, I can not think of a life without her. I just love her yaar".
I knew he loved her, for I can see his eyes full of tears that says much of the story.
"Does she love you , the way you love her?, look yaar!your parents always thought best for you since your birth to this date when you stand out as 26 years old man. If they thought best for you in the past, they of course will think good for you in the days to come." I consoled him to my best but little did console him. I tried to divert his attention to different things, but I knew where his mind was. Next morning he left for Hertfordshire.
Since then, I kept in touch with him more often than before. Yesterday, he made a call to me that he is going back to Pakistan and wanted to see me as well. I finished off working early, first since it was the month of Ramadan and second to cook for Iftaari. Shahid was already there at my flat talking with my brother. I was very pleased to see him. After Iftaari, we went out for a walk. I enquired of his sudden plan of visit to Pakistan. He told me that there was no special reason to share with me. Shahid had a habit of hiding things, only I know that. If he tells you nothing special out there to tell, he means otherwise. What happened to my friend was beyond my understanding since he moved to UK. He was after all a tough and brave man and I hardly saw any tears in his eyes before. To my surprise, he told me of how his girl friend left him alone with one text message.
"Did she!?", I couldn't believe, what I heard him saying to me.
"Yes yaar she left me"
"how come yaar"
"Last night....Yar last night, when she was out with friends, she texted me a message that she had found an old friend in a party night and that she plans to stop the relationship with me", he broke in tears and his eyes tell you the story.
"Look Yar, I always thought good for her, I loved her yaar",
He continued, "I made my family like my enemy, I stopped talking to my parents for her. I gave her love, care, attention, I gave her myself... Yaar. What else did she need? Look yaar what she did to me. She didn't even bothered to tell me! only a text message, lets put a stop to our relationship!this is what she sent, damn shit".
"Yaar, I always thought that she loves me like I did to her.But I was wrong. Look Farid, I still wish her best, though she will never see my face again", his voice was deep and down.
Late in the evening, we left for the Heathrow Airport. Though he was much hurt yet he wore a smile on his face throughout on our journey to the Airport.
"When you coming to join me Farid"? he asked.
"what?", I was lost.
"I don't know where you are Farid, I asked when you coming to Pakistan? village is quiet without us. We must make it happy again", he was broken but was trying to be positive.
"Soon Yar, I also plan to establish a small library in the village as well, where children will read books and old folks will chat on the the daily news of the newspaper, I would need your help yaar." I smiled as if he is the only one to help me.
"come soon yaar, little Khaab is right, people grown up in cold weathers have cold hearts, they can't feel what the poor men of our village feel with their big hearts." he meant something to say.
His flight number EK 003 was well on time, waiting for the passengers to make an entry. After the final announcement, calling for the passenger to make their ways to the Plane, I hugged him and asked to pay my regards to the villagers of my village, our friends, those old women and men who in the month of Ramazan might pray for us and my love to the soil of Peshawar...the land of proud but miserable Pashtuns. He smiled, and promised he will do exactly as I asked him to do.When I left the Airport, less than 15 minutes, I received a text message from his girl friend saying that she had found a boyfriend and that she wanted to change something in her life and that she hoped that Shahid would cope with that. I got another message, this time from Shahid, that reads;
" Farid Yaar, I might have done some mistakes, but I still love that girl, I wish her best, but pleased do me one more favour, if she needs any help, please do help her and yes my friend....one final thing, don't take long, come back soon to Pakistan. 'Allah Pa Aman'( Be in the safe hands of God), yours friend ...Shahid".
I was thinking of how much did he love that girl, and how worse did she treat him. I forwarded Shahid message to her, to which she replied with these words;
"he was crazy young man".
Her reply made me feel bad of her, but why shall I ? people think only of issues which suit their human nature, you can only think big and good for others when you are good inside. I am forced to believe now, after recent past that love is too big a feeling, don't waste on people who make a fun of that....for now I was feeling something, but why shall eyes suffer the most when hearts get hurt.
F.Gul
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