It is those from the nation of the unbelievers that ask God for signs. God, I'm not saying I want a sign, but a little clarity would help. These days I spend a lot of time being troubled by my own mind. Given the profession, time to reflect on what has happened, what is happening and what remains to be seen is very short, if there at all. But, God provides and a little time for reflection was at hand. Introspection, how I love thee.
My uncle was to arrive from Lahore to catch another flight to take him to Kabul. In between, there was plenty of time to meet up and have a little fun. Little did we know that PIA had plans of its own. The flight got delayed three times. We found ourselves at the airport at 1:00 in the morning. At this point going home was useless so I managed to convince my parents that they nap in the car and I'll stand guard, ready to wake them at the appropriate hour. You see, my uncle didn't know we were going to meet him and we had to catch him before he checked into international departures.
So, here I was. In the front seat of a Toyota Corolla, in the Islamabad International Airport parking area (I refuse to call it Benazir Bhutto International Airport), my parents asleep, and me staring out the windscreen. That cursed big blue sign bearing the incorrect name of the airport staring back at me. It was while I was playing tug of war with my eye lids that I realized, I was having fun. Just sitting there, watching people go by, almost as if I was invisible. They were all there, the concerned grandmother, the excited child, that guy who has literally the whole family there to see him off and completing the line up were the villagers who were confused with the whole airport experience.
What did I do with this time? What did I think of? Nothing at all. The only thing running through my mind was the calming track "From The Heart" by X-Ray dog (link). For a time, after a very long time, I felt content. I just needed the time alone. However, slowly, stray flashes converged to form thoughts in my mind. It was all that I had been through for the past two years. I find it strange that through it all I only remember the good things, never the bad. They are after all important. I only remember the important things. Always the important things. For once in two years I wasn't thinking about the future, I wasn't worrying myself to death. It was all just about where I was and who was here with me. Only the important ones. You know who you are.
Finally, my uncle arrived and we changed the venue from from the airport parking lot to the Front Page Cafe at the Rawalpindi PC. It was the only thing close enough at the time (@Sara: Exam Hall! :P). There we were, talking over sandwiches and coffee at 4:00 in the morning. What do you eat at time like that? Muhammad Asad writes of an Arabic saying about coffee in his book "The Road To Mecca" (Highly recommended read). The saying goes "Good coffee is bitter like death, and hot like love". Now I can't say much about the death part, but if love is anywhere as hot as this coffee, sign me up. It was that good, but at 4:00 AM, I guess everything is. There I sat, staring out the glass panelling of the hotel lobby, watching the deep ink blue of the night sky give way to the light azure of the morning. The first sunrise I had seen in a long time. The caffeine worked its magic and finally I made the transition from nocturnal to insomniac. This time, it was "Love Washes Over (Airwave remix) by Art Of Trance (link) that echoed in the cavern that is my skull. I imagine if I ever got high, this is what it would feel like (@Sara: calm down, I'm not going to get high. Ever.)
Now, I was thinking of everything. Clarity. I thought of the future. This time no worrying. It could just be the lack of sleep, but I seemed to have that optimism that I lost long ago. This optimism however had lost its taint of naivety. I thought of the reality I had seen in the past two years and how I had dealt with it. What I had to do, what lay ahead was clear. This time there was no confusion. There was nothing to be confused about. It's all up to me what I choose to do ahead. I even thought of the blog and the forum attached to it. As far as the blog goes, I know that the reason I make random posts is because that is the zone where I feel comfortable. I prefer to deal with the abstract, Sara does a better job at the concrete. I'm the dreamer, she's the thinker. I'm the idealist, she's the realist. I'm allegro, and she is vivace. Posts about nothing, yet kind of about something are my niche. I know that now.
As me and my mother stepped outside to give the brothers some time to talk, my thoughts switched to the forum. The pale light of dawn greeted us accompanied by the cold morning air. I was still playing in the recesses of my own mind as my mother and I talked. To someone else I may have appeared distant and uninterested, but my mother knew what I was up to, how could she not, and she knew not to disturb me when I'm like that. So, we walked, keeping the conversation going, me intermittently counting off the gun shots I heard in the distance and my mind thinking of the forum. I wanted to make a community, but I was wrong to think that it would just grow itself. It's going to take effort on my part. Anam, Sidra, Abbas and Osama, thanks for taking the time to comment on the forum. Omair, thank you for taking the time to actually read the entire blog and comment as well. I promise you I'll be participating actively in the forum myself from now on.
The whole experience ended with an emotional brotherly hug in front of the international departure lounge of the Islamabad International Airport (NOT the Benazir Bhutto International Airport) and with me writing this post at 7:00 in the morning. At this point I don't know if this was all a dream or not, but I guess I'll find out when I see the blog after I wake up.
Talha A. B.
