"I would not exchange the sorrows of my heart for the joys of the multitude."- Gibran

The people living on the floor above ours have decided to hang every possible wall hanging they possess...today. Hammering away relentlessly, theirs is the only noise which disrupts my otherwise perfectly quiet surroundings. That and the serene lapping of the Thames’ gentle waves as they hit the shore, right in front of my balcony. Ofcourse I do not mind the latter...who would? As i snuggle deeply into my couch, relishing these few snatched moments of utter bliss when there is no three year old tagging behind me, demanding to be played with; no dishes to be done, food to be cooked, grocery lists to be made and re-made, phone calls to be answered...my thoughts start drifting off to a place they should’nt...not now...atleast. In the deep recesses of my mind lie buried, safely buried,  images of a land I deeply love...

If I close my eyes just now I can hear the faint tinkling of a Kulfi wala as he trudges along hot dusty streets in the quiet of a July afternoon. I can smell the delicious smell of pollution which engulfs your senses as soon as you enter Saddar. I can taste the papery, sandy-card board-like, divine papads that you can get only at sea view and no where else in the world(well, you do get papads elsewhere but somehow they just don’t taste as good!). I can feel the rhythmic din of the National Stadium in the middle of a cricket match and the thunderous applause and elation at an Afridi Sixer. I can feel my blood curdling at the sight of torn limbs, the gruesome images of innocent men and women being rushed off to hospitals after  frightening bomb blasts. The heart breaking videos of angelic children fighting over pieces of bread.The shameless floggings, the target killings, the ugly politicians, the maimed, mutilated, crippled awaam.

Fortunately or unfortunately(?) my quiet time alone comes to an end. As my little chatter box sleepily trudges into the room he asks, “Mama what are you doing?”  I am stumped for a while. What should my answer be? Sweetheart I was day dreaming? Beta i was just sitting and wasting my time? Wasting my time thinking about a country which is no longer what it used to be...a land torn apart by  hounds, where the smell of blood is forever in the air...where Fear is a tyrant who rules with an iron fist. Instead I just say  “Zoii, Mama was missing Pakistan.” My little one looks at me lovingly and says “Oh I know what we’ll do, we will sing Dil Dil Pakistan and you will feel better.” I stare at him, stunned, simply nodding my head because the tears wouldnt let me speak. “Yes beta, Dil Dil Pakistan, Jaan Jaan Pakistan!”