Monday, April 20, 2015

My dream world ravished

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 41.                      My dream world ravished 

Before the US entered the region with its lies that the Taliban were the enemies of civilization and attacked Afghanistan and Iraq with its false claims that the latter country had Weapons of Mass Destruction , Pakistan was an ideal country to live . Before the US entered the arena , the USSR waged a ten war against the unarmed Afghans to be badly defeated . Again the American invasion of that country turned out to be a dream gone sour  .It stands disillusioned from its claims that the invasion would be welcomed . However , It was the great game once again . The region and particularly Pakistan will never the same because of power rivalries . How I wish this place becomes peaceful again . 

After Partition , we settled down in Rawalpindi because my late father worked in the GHQ . I and my children grew up in that city . Rawalpindi was an ideal city , very cold in winters and very hot in summers . My children and I studied in the same schools . In winters , we enjoyed sitting in the sun and eating dry fruits which were meagerly priced . In summers , we ate mangoes , melons and water melons . Pakistan prided in having some of the highest peaks in the world eg K2 , Nanga Parbat . 

My first house in Rawalpindi , near Islamabad , the capital of Pakistan , was a small one situated in a big ground near the Government Degree College , before my father built a new house in Satellite Town . It had three rooms . This house and the house adjacent had a well . We shared the water . The well was twenty
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four feet deep . Water supply from it never ended . The water was very cool in summers and warm in winters .After every six months , we used to put potassium permanganate for water treatment . The well was the chatting place for my mother and the lady living in the adjacent house . 

Then Rawalpindi was a sleepy little town . Its fame rested in having the army headquarters . Life was very simple and easy . Each person cared for one another in the neighbourhood and was not self centred . The prices were low . Food was plenty and very cheap . A bag wheat flour could  be obtained at Rs 40/ per maund ( then the unit was a maund which had forty seers ) , mutton was Rs 2/ a seer [ the butcher would ask the customer to indicate the portion and the former would happily oblige the latter ] , apples , mangoes were priced at Rs one a seer . One could travel from one end to another in one anna ( the decimal coinage was introduced in the early 1960s) . Chickens could be bought at Rs 1.50 or two and the price of eggs a half anna in summers and one anna in winters . In summers , we had a feast of mangoes occasionally. My father would buy five or ten seers of mangoes . We would dip them in cool water from the well in a bucket . On the occasions of Eid , my father would buy a goat for Rs thirty . 

Tonga was the mode of transport by the high and mighty and the middle class . the poor classes would walk . However , on main roads buses plied . My greatest pleasure was a trip to the cantonment with my parents for shopping for a pair of Naughty Boy shoes for yours truly . The trip ended with a cup of coffee . On the roads , there were hardly motor cars . Army officers upto
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the rank of brigadiers rode bicycles . 

My first introduction to current affairs was when Father Macain , our English teacher , gave a lecture on “ Communism” and then asked the class to write an essay on it and to submit to him the next morning . Father Macain was apparently upset by the creation of Pakistan and used to take revenge for the loss of the British ‘heavenly kingdom’ in India by a good use of cane which were freely applied to the bottoms of the boys . By then I had been admitted to the Cadet College , Hasan Abdal , I told my father that I would go to the new college and not to the previously school . I escaped punishment . However , till today I wonder what made Father Macain to discuss ‘communism’ in a class  of  the ninth class students. 

Modernity came with the introduction of taxi cabs and coca cola . We were very thrilled . The biggest joy was to ride in a taxi cab or have a drink of coke . Children of wealthy families used shampoo after hair cuts . 

The Government devalued the rupee in April 1972. Previously , the exchange rate was $ 1 dollar to Rs 4/ .After devaluation , the rate became $ 1 dollar to Rs 11/ . Successive devaluation coupled with high inflation rates set up a spiral which seems to be never ending . 

Developing nations need financial assistance to develop the country’s infrastructure . Having dealt with the World Bank , the
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ADB and the donor agencies for a number of years , I have a fair idea how the system develops . The interest rates may not be high , but the conditions to the loans or credits may be tougher . Since the economy of Pakistan had reached a certain stage of development , the conditions became tougher and tougher coupled with cross conditions which meant that a group of countries or donor agencies set up a common conditions . The receiving country has to meet all conditions of all the donor countries/donor agencies . To illustrate the point further , if Pakistan seeks a loan in the energy sector , all the donor countries/donor agencies will have common conditions attached to their loans/credits . Grants are worse : in the grants , everything is imported from the grant giving nation. The Children Hospital in Islamabad is a example . Even the nuts and bolts and the covers for gutters had been imported from Japan. A reading of John Perkins novel will illustrate the point further . 

I spent a week in ‘Communist’ Poland : three days in the company of my guide . I put him very searching questions. Besides , I observed the place very minutely .If the ‘Communist Bloc’ was as bad as portrayed by the west and by Father Macain , why are hordes of American and others investors coming to Poland . In Warsaw , I dined three nights in a row in a restaurant famous for having a group of folk singers come each night . This restaurant was frequented by Americans who came in groups . In Krakow , I stayed in the Holiday Hotel of the American chain . However , the more I read of the interest of big powers the more I get lost in the ‘Byzantine’ game of ‘ cloak and dagger’ intrigues being played by
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the big powers particularly in the Middle East , Iran , Afghanistan and Pakistan . 
With the breakup of the Soviet Union , people in Pakistan began to ask one another about NATO and the stockpile of weapons in Europe . Invariably my reply was that they would be used against Muslims . 

Before the Russian invasion of Afghanistan in December 1979 , Pakistan had no idea what the great game was . The Punjabis , the Pathans , the Sindhis and the Baluchis lived side by side . There was love among the people of every place . Inter marriages were common . True , it is strategically located . It is surrounded by China , Russia , Afghanistan ,Iran and India . During the Russian invasion and after ,Pakistan has been under a great deal of pressure . But it had no case of bombing or a mass scale killing . Now ,however , scarcely a day passes without reports of suicide bombing , killings in Karachi , Quetta , Gilgit and Baltistan , Khyber Pathunkhwa and the FATA . The parents and the children are afraid of going to school . Wives are afraid that their husbands may never reach home . Whether one believes it or not conspiracies theories afloat as to who is responsible for the mayhem . The latest reports are that the US has legalized attacking through drones the areas in the Middle East and the Tribal Areas (FATA) of Pakistan . Drones have been used in the FATA regions without legal sanctity . Drones bring with it a colossal damage of people and property .
 

Mahfooz ur Rahman
 
Islamabad
 
February 07 , 2013


My Contribution to society

              
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 40 .                                          My Contribution to society
I have been a pen pusher  for most of my adult life . Firstly I had been associated with the Government as a civil servant and an officer from 1969 till 2005 . Secondly , after retirement , I have been writing and mostly espousing the problems faced by the marginalized segment of the society . It is true that no  major newspaper ,except the Pakistan Observer, has picked up my writings for policy reasons perhaps . But I have found way out by using emails and Facebook , whether they like it or not ,to spread awareness . I have written about 150 essays in this period of eight years covering 4000 pages . I dare say that despite my best efforts to become a Robert Fielding or a Thackeray or a Hardy , I failed to elicit interest in my essays .However, I am a poor imitation of Voltaire , Mills  ,Carlyle or Ruskin of Europe .I am still writing in the hope that perhaps , my children may find a publisher to print them after I have gone .  .  
I  moved to my new house in Naval Anchorage , a suburb of Islamabad, when it was  completed in September 2005 . Surrounding the colony , there are tiny villages . Nearby is the area which is called  Sihala . The inhabitants of this locality and the surrounding hamlets are poor but proud : so proud that they do not let their women folk to work in others’ houses .
During the past eight years since we moved , I have engaged some of them in doing odd jobs in my house eg painting the house  or  tending my   garden as gardeners . Now that the cold weather has set in , these people have no proper clothing to face the severe cold . My milkman came to deliver milk to my house today dressed  only in his shirt  while it was drizzling . My gardener comes wearing a very thin sheet of cloth . When anyone from among them falls ill , they have no or little money for the treatment . Naturally , they go  to cheap charlatans , soothsayers or  go to tombs of the holy people . Resultantly most of become stoics .
I have asked many of those people about their education . Almost everyone is as school drop outs . They have the same story to tell , poverty .
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Often I  come back home by a taxi cab when my son drops me and drives off to work . Sometimes their stories are heart rending that they are not the owners but they drive another’s car or they are  in debt after they had obtained the cab .Once  a cab  driver told me that he had  earned no fare all day and no money to feed his children including an infant . It was eight at night . I was moved to tears . I paid all the money I had . It was triple the usual fare .
In another part of Rawalpindi (Rawalpindi is the city sister of Islamabad ) where Dr. Farzana Niazi (an old friend’s sister ) runs her free dispensary established after her son ,Khurram Sami khan, met with  an unfortunate accident about twenty two years and became handicapped. She attends to thirty five women daily . Sitting  with her for two hours as a great experience  and listen to their moving stories would melt the heart of the most obstinate man or woman .These are the poorest of the poor .
Or visit Bhabra Muhalla and its labyrinthine   streets in the inner city of Rawalpindi .  The houses there were built by the Hindus over  the past centuries . Most of the houses were allotted to the inmates during the rehabilitation process of the 1950s and 60s . Those are three storied and very fragile .Most of them are very poor  or they are not eager to move . But mostly they have become stoics .When I was the Deputy Secretary (World Bank) in the Economics Affairs Division , I convinced the Bank to appraise it for the World Bank funding .But unfortunately I fell ill and  was on leave for nine months . Subsequently  the project was never included for the Bank’s financing .
These places and the people who live there are “ vermin of the earth “ insignificant  to be anxious. Be it the ‘democrats’ or the ‘military rulers’ , they work according to their agenda . In fact , the ‘democrats’ behave like big or small potentates  like Emperors Akbar , Jehangir or Shahjehan . In reality , they are . For eg . the PPP wanted to build a mausoleum for the assassinated Benazir Bhutto . They are advised by their advisers from the politicians and the bureaucrats . Whenever the army comes to power , they are pressurized by the world powers to switch to democracy . And each time , they associate the  ugly politicians into power . The politicians’ way of thinking is confined to their self interests the world over . Here , in Pakistan , we have been  brought in believing “  simple thinking and high living” .  
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However , in the west the governing principle is “ the greatest good of the greatest number” . Gone are days of the Mayor of Nottingham and Robin Hood . Most in the west have their needs fulfilled through policy making . Things available to kings and emperors in the past  are available in most of the houses  through advanced technology .. If not , the complaints are speedily redressed .
One of the  female  members of my family was shown in a picture wearing an university’s convocation  academic  dress . I envied her .I  began to think what was and is wrong with us . Despite the fact that we teach our generations that Islam and the Holy Prophet (Peace and Blessings of Allah be upon him ) laid great emphasis on education , male and female , an overwhelming majority of us are unlettered . The donor countries/agencies have been extend financial aid in the shape of very  easy credits or grants (Remember John Perkin’s book ‘ Confessions of an economic hit man ‘) . But these ends into unseen pockets .As an illustration , the World Bank has twice given IDA Credit for Primary Education ie 1986 for about US$ 450/ million for the four provinces and Azad Jammu and Kashmir and recently about 2002 or 2003 IDA Credit 1200/ million for the same purpose.                             
I wish every male and female child  of Pakistan and of the entire Muslim world be educated . There shall be no school drop outs .Without quality education  the dream of advancement will be a dream only.
MAHFOOZ UR RAHMAN
ISLAMABAD
NOVEMBER 07 , 2013
   


MORE ON EASY MONEY

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39.                    MORE  ON EASY MONEY
"He who is without sin among you, let him be the first to throw a stone at her." Jesus.
In Islam , who bribes for his work to be done commits a greater sin than who takes the bribe .
 Corruption is a topic much discussed in the world . However , in Pakistan,we have sufficient time to waste rather doing work that is constructive which yield fruits for humanity . This does not mean that I am absolving ‘Corruption’ and ‘wickedness’ .
 Pakistan is considered a large pond of filth where each person goes about naked . . The older generations sowed ‘corruption’ like other evils . We are reaping the fruit sown  by them . We cant pick up apples from barley fields .
 The situation in each is going from bad to worse while a sham democracy had been installed. In Karachi , there is a daily dose of killing when the democratic,  and not a bureaucratic , government  ‘governs’ Sind . Rumours are in abundance of the alleged misdoings of the current Government not only in Sind but the entire Pakistan. The situation in the rest of the country is no better .
I am not saying that the country’s bureaucracy is without any blemish . However , some people cross all limits of decency  in their observation in the media or on the social networks . My objection is their making  sweeping statements using harsh words as ‘rats’ , ‘dogs, and ‘pigs’for bureaucrats. Never use big words . Big words mean little .
Please avoid abusing the  honest ,hard work of numerous Government servants . They put their heart and soul into their
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work . They worked selflessly . My late father was one such example . 
 I wish to the readers that in this putrid atmosphere , there are many examples which  shine on the country’s firmament and make the country proud . My JS in the Ministry of Commerce , Dr. A.K. Tanveer , was one such example . He , the late Mr. Rafiq Inayat Mirza (who lived in Rawalpindi and worked in Islamabad) , the late Mr. Maqbool Ahmed Butt  never used staff cars when they were entitled to do so. They used to come by public wagons while plied between Rawalpindi and Islamabad . Mr. Javed Burki and Mr. Khalid Mahmood Cheema used bicycles while coming to the office.  
I saw the working of  those scions of high officials of the past , Javed Burki , Javed Talat , Meekal Aziz Ahmed . It was a pleasure to deal with them . 
From among the bureaucracy , there were Justice A.R. Cornelius , Justice M.R.Kayani . Judges speak from their judgments . Simultaneously  , we heard that lawyers and judges play bridge together and the former lose to the latter on purpose.
A military bureaucrat , Air Marshall Asghar Khan, moved the Supreme Court in the case of distribution of the funds amounting Rs 140 million to the politicians . The bureaucracy was not the beneficiary but the politicians were .
 The bureaucracy was not the gainer of the  much abused NRO . If  there were any bureaucrat in the list of NRO beneficiaries, there were insignificant names .
A bureaucrat , Roedad Khan , atoned himself for his alleged ‘misdoings’ particularly when he the Principal  Secretary to President Ghulam Ishaq Khan , was instrumental in filing a writ against the NRO which he subsequently won .
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No bureaucrat is guilty of tax evasion . Their taxes are deducted at source .
 A young female bureaucrat named Ms Anita Turab , moved the Supreme Court and won its judgment against the mighty ruling People Party in the case of Waheeda Shah who slapped election officials.
Mahfooz ur Rahman
Islamabad
November 12 , 2012


Masud saheb

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   38 .                                   Masud saheb
Through a strange coincidence , I was coordinating the exercise of the redesigning of civil awards in the Cabinet Division as the Deputy Secretary concerned . It would be interesting to learn how the application form  for civil awards was reduced from the original  four pages to a quarter of a page . I was asked by the Additional Secretary to have a look at the form .  I saw plenty of things irrelevant in so far as the Federal Government  was concerned  for eg. religion ( it does not occupy any place for awards ) or  clearance of the DCs . And lo and behold my amendments were approved by the Cabinet Secretary .
The Cabinet Secretary conveyed to the Additional Secretary and myself the dislike of President Zia to  the designs of civil awards  .  We asked the relevant agencies like the National College of the Arts , Lahore , Pakistan National Council of the Arts etc to furnish their designs by a given date . They did that . I discussed the designs with the Additional Secretary and dismissed them because they had no vision .
The Cabinet Secretary asked me to find out how the previous designs were made . Through my research , we found that those designs were prepared by an English firm M/s Spinks and Sons . The Cabinet Secretary wrote to the firm .  I coordinated his two visits .   Mr . Spinks came to Rawalpindi twice and had a series of meetings with the late President , the Cabinet Secretary , the Master of the Pakistan Mint  Syed Mahmood Shaukat  etc. The first was to make him understand the task in hand . The second was hand over the designs that his firm had made .
I ordered  M/s Ghazanfar Ali and Sons , Rawalpindi to prepare a special leather  bag for carrying the designs , for the presentation to the President . In the initial meeting held opposite the Murree Brewery and attended by the President , the Cabinet Secretary , the Mint Master  yours truly made the presentation   .   
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Later on the bag was meant to carry the medals from the Cabinet Division to the Aiwan e Sadr and back .
Regards

Mahfooz  

MARYAM MAHFOOZ: A FATHER FONDLY REMEMBERS


MARYAM MAHFOOZ: A FATHER FONDLY REMEMBERS

For the last months since her second death anniversary on the October 16 ,2000, I have been wondering whether to write to you because it seems odd for a man who is 56 and who is in the twilight of his life to write to a teenage magazine and that, too, after a lapse of two years. But the words of the Editor of this Magazine, when she learnt about her death, were, indeed, very moving and come to my mind again and again. Indeed, they were the finest tributes and which acted as a balm for me and my family, Maryam’s mother and father and for her brothers and sisters. Now after two days Eid is due and her memories are coming flooding back
She was our favourite, not only for me but also for the entire family. Everyone who knew her, uncles, aunts, neighbours and friends of the family loved her. Her uncle Naeem had made a point to donate blood to her every now and then because she was suffering from Thalassemmia Major, a fatal disease of the blood. But later on, more complications developed which led to her death. Not only did he donate blood but he left special instructions with his wife, a very noble soul herself, and his sons to donate their (sons) blood, whenever needed. Shortly before her death, Naeem’s older brother, a PIA pilot, had arrived then from New York and was visiting his under construction house and when he learnt that Maryam had been hospitalized in the Children’s Hospital in Islamabad in a very serious condition, he, at once, rushed to donate blood to her. He sat with Maryam for two hours till I finished office, amusing her by telling hilarious anecdotes and stories. Indeed, this cousin of mine is a great friend of the children. But for Maryam, he had a special liking and this liking was mutual. Once her doctor, Naila Yaqub, advised me to acquire a sportsmen helmet for her to be worn at all times as a precaution against hurting herself on the head because after her brain surgery, she developed epilepsy and her fits were so bad that she often fell down and hurt herself. Because of these fits, she stopped going to school two years before her death. I mentioned to Captain Zabih, her uncle. On the third day, Zabih brought a helmet for her. Such was great love, which the uncle and niece shared.
She was a patient child. Whenever we or anyone else enquired about her condition from her, her only reply was that she was fine and invariably thanked the enquirer even though she was in pain. Mrs. Nighat Nasar, the wife of the M.D. Caltex, great family friends, often came to see her whenever she was hospitalized and invariably asked Maryam what she wanted. But the only answer Mrs. Nasar got “No, Aunty, thank you. I don’t need anything”
She was a very loving child. She used to remember the birthdays of her parents and her friends. Even towards the end of her life when her going had become restricted, she would ask her family to bring birthday cards, get well cards as the case may be. A couple of months before her death, she asked me one evening to accompany me to the market. But, all the while, she kept the reason of her going out to herself. We went to a ready-made garments shop and bought a shirt for me despite my great dissuasion.
She had a premonition of her death. She told her friend that the latter promised to come and see her but the friend would come only when she was gone. She also confided in her friend that her late grandfather i.e. my father, came to fetch her to a land of happiness where they would play. Her friend told us the day Maryam died.
Maryam was my father’s favourite although he loved my five children alike. But she occupied a very special place in his affection. Both of them had many common traits. Both of them were born within two days of each other, of course, in different years, or rather eras. And both are buried within yards of each other.
But we as Muslims have faith in the Almighty Allah and in His Graciousness, His Mercy and in His Benevolence.
Mahfooz-ur-Rahman
Father of the late Maryam Mahfooz
House no. 409-B, Satellite Town,
Rawalpindi.
Mahfoozur_rahman@hotmail.com
.
P.S.
The finest tribute to Maryam was paid by dear friend ,Maria Ramzan Akhtar , when she named her new born daughter Maryam .
Dear Editor,
Enclosed please find a copy of an article entitled ‘This is what I go through’ by Maryam Mahfooz which was published in your magazine a couple of years back.
I am writing this letter to inform you, and through you your readers of your magazine, that my daughter, Maryam Mahfooz, died on 16th October, 1998 at 12.30 a.m. from various complications like brain hemorrhage, pneumonia and meningitis.
For the last seven years she had been calmly battling against her illnesses. She had been in and out of the hospital.
When her article appeared in your magazine many of your readers wrote to her and she found a great many friends, particularly Miss Maria Ramzan Akhter, who became her very fast friend. It was Maria who made my daughter very happy and who came to Maryam’s last rites. May Allah Bless Maria.
I also take this opportunity to thank her various doctors particularly Dr. Naila Yaqoob, Dr. Ghazala Sultan, Dr. Jai Krishan who went out of the way to attend to her. May God Bless all of them.
With regards,
Yours truly,
Mahfooz urRahman
Dear Mr. Mehfooz,
If there were words to express the sorrow that I felt upon reading your missive I would write it down but the fact is that it’s so deep and so troubling, for me at least, that I am unable to register the fact truly. Maryam was one of our very arduous readers and wrote very well. To lose so much to God seems so upsetting and yet, we cannot deny God of taking one of his very beloved and keeping her safe with Him. I am sure that I will be voicing our readers’ thoughts when I say that I wish you courage and fortitude to go on in life even with the loss of your daughter and in time, bless you with hope and happiness for surely this sweet, loving and pristine Maryam, like her namesake, is chosen to be cherished forever. – Editor.
M


MARRIAGE OR TORTURE

                                 MARRIAGE OR TORTURE


The Holy Prophet (Peace and Blessings of Allah be upon him ) said the Muslims should solemnized Nikah so that his followers would be greater in number and give him a chance to feel proud . In Islam , the Nikah ceremony was always very simple . But no longer . It has been converted into a torture however noble the intentions are ,

We attended a marriage last night . The invitation card said that the Nikah would be at 8 PM ( it was at 11.15 pm) and the dinner would be served at 8.30 PM . The bride’s family arrived at the wedding hall after 10 PM and the baraat arrived at 11 PM . My family and I were allowed to leave the torture chambers at 12.45 AM. We reached home at 1.15 AM . This morning , I got up at 5.45 AM .  Naturally we offered qaza Fajr  prayers .

 Talking about ‘torture chambers ‘ reminded me of an incident that took place in Krakow (Poland) . On  field trips , the programme  included visits to churches and museums only : I found the former very boring and devoid of education . While visiting the grand cathedral in Krakow , I ‘innocently ‘asked the Course Director ‘ where are the torture chambers ‘ . His faced reddened  and I could see that he was trying hard  to control his anger .

Many useless and odious things have crept into system and are becoming  compulsory  rapidly. There were times when invitations were written in  a fine handwriting on Postal cards worth one anna ( the previous currency till it was replaced by Decimal Coinage in 1961). Once  in the 1990s ,we got an invitation card from  an overseas friend containing twelve pages . Marriages were simple affairs and not torturous affairs practiced nowadays . Marriages were also long lasting : divorce was considered a taboo .

Once a friend of mine invited my family and I to his son’s marriage in Lahore . We drove to Lahore  one day before the occasion. On reaching Lahore , I saw the invitation card again and carefully . The programme said that ‘ guests were assemble’ at 8 PM , ‘Baraat departs for the bride’s home/ hotel’ 9 PM blah , blah . I made a quick calculations : that we would not be able to reach home (  we were staying with my sister in law )  before 2 AM. The next morning , we planned to leave for Islamabad . We discussed within ourselves and made a decision to skip the marriage or torture .

Mahfooz ur Rahman
Islamabad

April 07 , 2013     

Saturday, April 18, 2015

Mama I want to go to school . Papa I want to go to school .

                                                                                                                                             117
35.       Mama I want to go to school . Papa I want to go to school .
Nadeem entered his son’s , Yusuf , bedroom at his shriek . The son had a nightmare . At almost the same time , Yusuf’s mother , Nasim, came . Both mother and father wanted Yusuf to tell them about the shriek . But he was too shocked to speak .  Yusuf went on crying . Between sobs ,the only word , his parents could catch was school . At last, the parents succeeded to calm their son down with parental love .  He told them that he had a bad dream in which his school was blown up by the terrorists  and all children were blown to bits  .
One day earlier when the children came home from school , they switched on the TV to watch their favourite cartoon programme  . But the channel they switched on had other things to show : graphic scenes of the aftermath of a blast that killed many people . Nadeem and Nasim tried to ensure that the children did not see the horrible scenes because as an educated couple they could visualize the traumatized impact on the children who were at an impressionable age .      
The family lived In Jehlum . They had two children , a boy aged 12 and his younger sister, Maryam , aged 10 . Both children went to the finest school in town . Besides education , their parents , particularly the mother , told stories of Muslim warriors like Hazrat Khalid bin Waleed or Salahuddin Ayubbi .  The father was a middle ranking officer . The family was very closely knit.  
Yusuf often dreamt  of  becoming a Physicist . He would often  tell them that he would do his masters and the earn a doctorate in Physics because both mother and father were highly qualified in their respective fields  . Once Maryam chimed that the brother and sister would become another Dr . Abdus Salam and another Malala Yousuzai . His father went into deep thinking : the former was declared a Non Muslim  by the Pakistani Parliament in the days of Zulfiqar Ali Bhutto when he was facing trouble and Malala had become the west’s darling . Christina Lamb  

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ghostwritten her autobiography  . She had put things  injurious to her native country .
All of sudden Yusuf thoughts returned to his school . He said “ Mama I want to go to school . Papa I want to go to school .” This simple sentence put his father to think   .  Being parents  they were naturally  upset by the series of murderous attacks  . As a father he  thought  about the future of the children . Were schools secure ?  The Government should have  removed their misgivings .
He thought that there was a time for thinking .There was a time for action . And the time for action was then  .
Yusuf was precocious and a bright boy . He was also an enfant terrible asking his parents questions which do not occur to any other boy of the same age bracket . It is said that wise questions constitutes  one half of the human knowledge . He asked them was there ever peace in Pakistan .   His question disturbed Nadeem’s thoughts .
Yusuf’s father began recounting the olden days . In the days of your grandfather and their days , Pakistan was a very peaceful country . Village life was ideal .His grandfather lived in Rawalpindi which was then a sleepy little town . His father used to tell him stories how they came on foot . They reached home at 3 PM whereas the classes were off at 1 PM travelling through the streets and ring bells of sundry houses all in fun  . The owners shared the boys fun . His father also told him that once he carried  his two year old cousin in his lap unannounced to the family and went for a four miles   without any reason . There was of danger either being killed or kidnapped .
His father did his masters in History while his mother did her masters in Psychology . Both his children grandparents and their parents academic life were full of usual pranks .
All of a sudden the idyllic atmosphere was turned into a nightmare as if a magic .
Mahfooz ur Rahman
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Islamabad
December 24, 2014