A Letter To My Country

On December 16th 2012, my family and I had migrated to Canada. 

This year is my second anniversary in Canada, and it was welcomed with a rather sad incident in Peshawar. 

For it, I decided to write my sentiments and leave a letter to Pakistan, the country that gave me more than it knows.

This goes out for the victims of the Peshawar massacre on 16th December 2014 and their families, for it is the families that are the real victims. 

Dear Pakistan,

I’m sitting in a chair in the Pickering Public Library, with a laptop on my lap. Its quiet. Too quiet. I hope you still remember me, for I haven’t forgotten you for a moment. Even though some time has lapsed since we’ve met, I still remember you. Quite fondly if I say so myself. 

You’ve taught me a lot my dear country, more than many of my teachers have. More than the education I’ve acquired or the lessons I’ve learned. You’ve taught me something that is unteachable, you’ve taught me how to hope. 

When Pakistan cricket team was on the edge of defeat, I hoped. When a suicide bomber attacked a market, I hoped. Whenever a corrupt politician stole from your helpless treasures, I hoped. Maybe I was naïve, or maybe you’re just that much important to me. But I hoped every time you went through something difficult, because that’s all you could give me. 

You taught me faith too. In a land where people kill in the name of religion, you taught me that my religion isn’t to blame, it’s the people that live it for their own means. If today in Canada, I wake up and go to the mosque everyday, it’s because of you. It’s because I still imagine the time when the Adh’aan resonated in your atmosphere and you told me to stop playing and worship my Lord. 

You taught me brotherhood. You gave me a family within my friends and friends within my family. You taught me how hard it is to find good friends, and how to keep them close once I do. You taught me to forgive them if they made mistakes and you taught me to apologise if I was wrong. I am envious of my friends today. They get to see you more often than I do. But I also feel sorry for them. They take you for granted, as I always did. They will know once they leave your luxuries, like I did.

You gave me so much, but I gave you nothing in return. My people and I have left you helpless. We bloody your soil everyday, we spit on you, litter your gardens, curse you, damn you and think of new and inventive ways to hurt you. But you still stand. Your flag still hoisted upon our helms, you stand. You’re unconditional love for us is like a mother’s for a child; it  gives more than it receives. 

For all that, I will always be indebted. 

Two years ago at this very time I was boarding a plane to leave you permanently. My eyes were still damp from the goodbyes and my heart was still aching. Two years later, I sit on this table, eight thousand miles away from you feeling the same way. The ruthless oppressors have yet again left your garden bare and stole the roses from your bouquet. I am helpless, as I always was. 

But I still haven’t forgotten your teachings, my dear country. I still hope for a better tomorrow. I still pray for your prosperity to the Lord you introduced me too. I still tell my friends to respect you the way you respect them. Because, if we don’t then who will? 

I am currently very far away from you. I’m entering a house I call home only from the tongue. Because the home is where the heart lies, and my heart is still with you. 

I will make you proud one day. I promise.

Love,

M. Nazar Syed

Twitter: @itsNazar
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