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Disclaimer: This story is totally a work of fiction. The characters in this story do not exist in reality and any resemblance of the characters with anyone living or dead is purely coincidental.
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"Waris can you please
give these files a look? I have calculated the estimated quantity of beverage
we are going to sell this year. My brother has arrived and I need to leave
now"
Umer asked, with that innocent face
that he always made when he wanted Waris to do his part of the work. Usually
Waris would just make an excuse but not today. Waris was really happy, for his
boss had finally given him an increment of Rs. 15,000 in his salary after 10
years of his service to the company. "Alright I will do it", replied
Waris with a smile."Man you are life saver! Thank you!" said Umer,
sounding relieved, while packing his bag, "See you tomorrow". Now
back to his work, Waris just couldn't concentrate. He was so excited that he
couldn't wait to tell his mother and his wife about the great news. His father,
Chaudhry Ghulam Rasool, had died a year ago of a heart attack. It was a great
setback to the family, for Chaudhry sahab, as people would call him, was
the main bread earner for the family. With his pay and the mere Rs. 20,000
Waris brought home from his work as an accountant, things were going pretty
smooth. But after his death, things changed and the family was in a big
trouble. Waris, a hard working fellow, worked extra hours daily for over a year
to keep things at home running. Happy with his work, his boss finally gave him
this increment that he was really excited about.
Waris finished his work fast and
started checking the files Umer had left for him. It took him about an hour to
complete the work after which he was finally free to leave for home. He packed
his bag, said good bye to his colleagues and headed for the exit door. The
weather outside just couldn't be better. It was eight at night and a cool
breeze was blowing, the night sky of Lahore was very dark because of the clouds.
Waris took a deep breath, inhaling fresh air and headed for his bike. As he was
about to get on his bike his mind struck with a great idea. Smiling, he reached
for the cell phone in his pocket to call his wife. "Hello?" answered
Ali, his youngest son, in his sweet voice. He was just 8 but was really
talkative and always answered the phone himself. "Assalam-o-Alaikum Ali!
How are you son?", replied Waris. "I am fine baba. When are you
coming back? I am waiting for you. Baba, Rashid is teasing me and isn't letting
me use his colour pencils.” complained Ali. "I am on my way son. Don't worry;
we'll get you new colour pencils! Now ask you mother to talk to me.", replied
Waris smiling. After a while his wife, Maimoona was on the phone.
"Hello?" said her. "Assalam-o-Alaikum. Maimoona don't cook
dinner. I am getting something to eat from the market today.” answered Waris.
"Really? Why? ", replied Maimoona a bit confused. Maimoona couldn't
even think of the last time they had something to eat from the market since his
father-in-law's death. They couldn't afford expensive foods. "I will tell
you when I get back. I am on my way home. Allah Hafiz". Waris just
couldn't imagine the glee on his children's face when they would find their
father holding tasty food for them.
With his head buzzing with
excitement, he kick-started his bike and headed for the nearby market. Riding
his bike, heading towards the market, Waris started thinking of what he was
going to do with his increment. He thought of his mother's kidney problem. He
could now save money every month and could get her mother operated that the
doctor said would cost them 50,000. He thought of his elder son, Rashid. He
could now admit his son in a good reputed school of the city. Waris always
wanted his children to have good education but with the sky rocketing fees of
these schools, Waris could only imagine something like that. His wife, Maimoona
was a really simple woman. She never asked him for anything and was contented
with what they had. Waris thought of buying her and his mother some new suits.
He didn't think of himself. Just like his father, Waris was really
down-to-earth and simple. Honest, good at heart and a true believer of Allah.
His bike was old and badly needed a replacement but he just kept his desires at
a distance and worked for his family and family alone. Preoccupied deeply in
his thoughts, in no time he reached the market. he parked his bike and headed
towards the nearby stall of BBQ.
Mouth-watering chicken with chatni. He loved the smell. Ordering some
kebabs and tikkas, he stood there. Waiting for the man at the shop to
pack the stuff his eyes found a small stall having multicoloured bangles.
Asking the man at the BBQ shop to pack the stuff he decided to buy some for
Maimoona. "She would love them" he thought to himself. He bought the
ones in red and yellow, Maimoona's favourite colours. He paid and left the
shop.
Just as he was about to turn around
and head for the BBQ shop many things happened at once. The man at the BBQ shop
called him from behind, a man passing close by accidently hit Waris's shoulder
and the bag containing bangles slipped from his hand and smashed on the ground.
Just as he was about to lean to pick up the bag, he witnessed a bright flash of
light through the corner of his eye followed by a loud bang. Waris was lift
from his feet and hit the opposite wall with such a force that he could feel
the excruciating pain of his ribs and elbow crushing. Not aware of his surroundings
and the shrill sound in his ear, Waris couldn't see anything. His head hat was
seriously injured and the wound bleeding badly. Helpless, he knew what was
coming next. Lying there he could now hear people crying for help, men
shouting. He tried to open his blood drenched eyes, but all he could see was
bright light. He closed his eyes again. He tried to move but he couldn't. The
world around him seemed to move away. He was blacking out. Closing his eyes he
thought of his sons Ali and Rashid, his wife and his mother. How happy they
would have been when they would have found out about his increment. His mother
was not going to have a surgery, probably never. Feeling nothing else, he felt
a water droplet rolling down his face.
All of a sudden two strong hands
held his arms tightly and pulled him up. He was raised off the ground and was
laid down on something soft while someone was telling him to keep breathing.
But he could hardly take air in. He tried hard to but all in vain. It was too
much blood loss and he just couldn't make it. Lying on the same stretcher, he
breathed his last.
This is just a story of a man who
never existed but with the situation present today in our country, this can be
a life story of any common Pakistani. Have we ever considered the fact that how
helpless we are in these conditions prevailing in our country? A life down if
not just a mere death, it is a death of a family. A family falls with the death
of a man. Killings are so common that we don't even react to anything like this
now. Is this our new state of mind or are we just getting used to it? Compromising
we call it. This is not what we Pakistani Muslims got freedom for. We as a
nation are now dead, dead from the inside. A nation with the force of unarmed
men when united can do wonders and we have seen it in history. Don't be dead,
feel like you are alive. Feel for your fellows, your countrymen, your brothers.
No one is going to help us from the outside; no angel is
going to descend from the heavens. It is we and just we who can put a stop to
it.
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