Written on the 14th August 2005:
Yawm-e-Azadi PakistanIt seems so strange to think that one year ago to this day, i was stringing up rows of paper green-white flags around a marble-floored balcony.
We were competing with the neighbouring haveli across the dusty road. A rivalry had started up between the kids and their neighbours (one that the neighbours were most likely blissfully unaware of) as to who would be the first to decorate their house with the widely-known signs of Pakistani patriotism. Since the neighbours had decorated the house on the night of the 13th, and there was no sign of the kids having lifted a lazy finger by the time that dusk was about to fall on the 14th, the rules of the competition were quickly changed; which house would be decorated with the most splendour and zest. The kids thought they had this covered, as they brought out reams and reams of plastic flags, paper flags, flags of cloth, and the crowning glory, the piece de resistance; a parcham so gigantic in size that it could have easily doubled up as a parachute off the balcony. This really was the daddy of all daddy flags.
Once everything was in place, and we all stood back, tired, hungry and increasingly sweaty in the gathering humid heat, but looking at our handiwork with admiration. The competition with neighbour ji had almost been forgotten in the process of working together and laughing together. But hold on! the final touch was still left to be made; as we struggled to hoist up the huge jhanda upon a make-shift flag pole (a hastily stripped tree branch). Finally, triumphantly, we stepped back with huge grins, hands on hips, as the flag slowly rippled in the summer evening breeze, gradually morphing into a silouette against a breath-taking eastern sunset.
In different moments throughout that evening, surges of belonging, of fierce belonging, washed through me. I realised then that whatever happens, wherever i may end up in this world, there will always be something connecting me, tugging me back to this earth, whether i like it or not, whether i acknowledge it or not. Just as a part of me will always find peace and contentment only here, something of this land will always belong to me, and no human being has the power to take that away.
I unexpectedly found a missing piece of the jigsaw that is ‘me’.
And just for the record, we totally whooped neighbour ji’s ass when it came to expressing pakistani pride
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