© All copyrights belong to StarsAndMoon1447 on Wattpad

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Watan: homeland, nation, country.

Everyone is welcome to read this story! This story promotes love and peace, and no hate or war.

THIS IS A ONE SHOT, SHORT STORY

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Yeh watan tumhara hai, tum ho pasban iske. 

*This land is yours, you are its' guardians.

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Written in honour of 14th August, Pakistan's Independence Day! 

This story is a romance, but the other major theme is the love for your homeland.

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I was not attached to my homeland, but my soul still was.

I had no interest, but my heart still led me there.

My birth had been in a nation afar, but my blood pulled me back.

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Sara Abrar

Loud rambunctious laughter startled me and I turned my head.

My father was loudly talking about his childhood memories with his brothers and cousins, as they sat in chairs on the roof of Dado's (my paternal grandmother's) house. 

I had come up here because it had been too hot downstairs, and I was hoping to catch some breeze up here, but nothing. I had no idea how my family was having such a good time here, including my younger brother, Usama. 

Eighteen-year-old Usama, normally tech obsessed, had now even forgotten the lack of Wi-Fi as he played cricket in the street downstairs with our cousins.

I felt desperately homesick, missing the comfort of our four-bedroom, semi-detached London home. Yet Baba and Mama were both fitting right in, loving being back in the homeland. After moaning for the first couple of days, even Usama had adjusted.

"Ohhhh!" A collective, exasperated cry filled the air as the lights went out. 

Load-shedding.

Just what I needed right now. I rolled my eyes.

Coming to Pakistan was an annual thing. Baba visited at least twice a year, sometimes more, but the whole family visited in the summer holidays. Initially, it was because of school for me and Usama, but now I was done with education, but my brother was still in Sixth Form. 

"Sara!" Mama called out. 

"Yes, Mama?" 

"Come downstairs to help with dinner preparations!" 

"It's dark, Mama! There's load shedding!" I sensed a hint of irritation in my voice.

"The light is gone for two hours, as per routine. We can't wait for dinner that long, can we?" She replied back. "Chalo aao."

*"Come."

I used the light of my phone to head downstairs, almost stumbling on the uneven steps. The smell of boiled rice made me stomach growl with hunger. My Phupho had cooked daal today, along with the boiled rice.

*Daal: lentils.
Phupho: paternal aunt.

"Sara, beta, just get the cold drinks from the fridge, please." Gulshan Phupho told me.

I headed to the room where the fridge was placed and took out the two-litre bottles of cold drinks. The coolness of the bottles gave me slight relief from the heat.

"Sara!" My cousin Ruqaiya grabbed my arm. "Will you be coming to the park for the fourteenth of August celebrations tomorrow?" 

I shrugged. "I don't know." 

"It's going to be so much fun! You have to attend!" She said.

"I'll think about it." I said, dismissively, having no intentions to think about it. Tomorrow, I was going to beg my parents to let me stay in my air-conditioned hotel room all day.

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"You have to go." Mama said firmly, when we had returned back to our hotel for the night.

My parents had been more than happy to stay at Dado's house for the duration of the stay, but Usama and I had moaned and complained so much about the heat and lack of Wi-Fi that Baba had begrudgingly agreed to book a hotel. I knew that both of them were embarrassed in front of our relatives that we were staying in hotels, but what could I do? I was feeling unwell due to the heat already, and the one night that we had stayed at Dado's house, I had been unable to sleep.

"Mama, why?" I asked.

"Because you're not here to spend the whole day at a hotel!" She said. "We'll go as a family...and Retired General Hamid's family is going to be there as well." 

I froze.

Retired General Hamid Shamshad was my father's childhood best friend... and also my father-in-law.

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THIRD PERSON POV

14th of August (Independence Day)

"Pak sarzmeen shaad baad.
Kishwar-e-haseen shaad baad.
Tu nishaan-e-azme aali shaan,
Arz-e-Pakistan
Markaz-e-yaqeen shaad baad.

Pak sarzameen ka nizaam.
Qouwat-e-Akhouwat-e Awam.
Qaum mulk saltanat, painda tabinda baad.
Shaad baad manzil-e-muraad.

Parcham-e-sitara-o-hilal
Rahbar-e-Taraki-o-kamal.
Tarjjuman-e-mazee shaan-e-haal,
jaan-e-istaqbal
Saaye-e-Khuda-e zuljalal.

Pakistan national anthem meaning:

May the blessed land remain happy and prosperous,
You are the emblem of majestic resolve,
O Land of Pakistan!
Blessed be the citadel of faith.

The order of this sacred land,
is the might of the brotherhood of the people,
May the nation, the country and the state,
shine in everlasting glory!
Blessed be the goal of our ambition.

The flag of the crescent moon and star,
Leads the way to progress and perfection,
Interpreter of our past, glory of our present,
inspiration for our future.
In the Protection of God, the Glorious and Mighty!

The crowd stood in unity, their hands over their hearts as the National Anthem of Pakistan was played.

Retired General Hamid Shamshad stood at the front, along with his family, his pride for his country reflecting on his face, even as his expressions remained neutral. His wife, Waheeda Hamid stood beside him, elegant and classy in the emerald green saree.

On the former Army General's other side was his eldest son, Shahrez Hamid. Natasha Hamid, the middle child and only daughter of Hamid Shamshad stood beside her elder brother, a dupatta draped over her head. Last, but not least was Sameer Hamid, the youngest sibling.

The family had been invited to this local park in a community where Hamid Shamshad had grown up.

"Thank you so much for coming, Hamid sahab! We're proud to have someone who has served our country with so much dedication, attending our small function!" An elderly man shook Hamid's hand.

"It is my honour to be here, celebrating Independence Day in my old neighbourhood." Hamid smiled.

There were stalls set up with food, games, and fun activities. Other shops sold traditions outfits, jewellery and souvenirs. 

Shahrez walked over to the stall that displayed historical photos of Pakistan, as well as photos of its monuments and famous places. He had a deep love for his country, and had followed his father's footsteps into the army, until he had been forced into early retirement due to his leg injury. He looked down at the walking stick that he had to use to walk long distances. He had no regrets for the injury itself, as it happened while serving his country. His only regrets were that his service had been cut short.

His younger sister, Natasha, joined him. "You're overthinking again."

"I'm not."

"You are still a hero, Bhai. You still fought for your country." She placed a hand on his upper arm.

"I wanted to do so much more, Natasha." He briefly allowed himself to dwell deeply in the shadows of self-pity. Normally, he brushed off all this negativity, and reminded himself  that whatever happened had a benefit for him that he currently couldn't see, but would eventually realise. That's how the plans of Allah worked. Today, however, surrounded by the celebration of independence, he was reminded once again that he could no longer do what he loved.

"Abrar sahib!" His father's loud and delighted voice made him turn.

Abrar Farooq was making his way through the crowd towards Hamid Shamshad and his wife. 

The two childhood friends greeted each other warmly, hugging each other while laughing.

"Jis mulk se azaadi payi, udhar hi jaake bas gaye ho." Hamid told Abrar.

*"The country that we got independence from, you moved there."

"Bas, Hamid. Us waqt jo theek laga, wohi kiya." Abrar replied.

*"Alas, Hamid! We did what seemed right at that time." 

Abrar sahab's wife, Zareena was a nurse. When they had moved to London, she had still been a nursing student, and the demand for nurses had increased greatly in the UK. Meanwhile, Abrar sahab was a Mathematics lecturer, and now taught at a renowned university in London.

Shahrez then spotted Sara Abrar, the girl who was in his Nikah. 

With long chestnut brown wavy hair, and light brown eyes, Sara was a beautiful girl. However, Shahrez had a feeling that she was a bit of a 'nakchadi', as in arrogant and snobbish. 

This was the traditional case of arranged marriage, almost a cliché in desi society: the children of two childhood friends getting married. He hardly knew her, and vice versa, yet here they were tied together in this powerful relationship.

She wore a lawn off-white suit white pink and green floral embroidery over the kameez. The shalwar was also plain off-white, and the dupatta with pink chiffon with green leafy patterns.

"Assalam Alaikum." The families greeted each other. 

Sara's mother nudged her, causing the latter to walk over to Shahrez. "Assalam Alaikum." 

"Walaikum Assalam." He replied, glancing down towards his stick. He still had a sense of insecurity because of it. He wondered, despite himself, how she felt about the fact that he couldn't walk without limping, or without using a walking stick.

Fortunately, everyone was distracted by the sudden announcement over a microphone.

The flag, displaying its crescent moon and star, was raised up, as patriotic songs began to play. 

Shahrez felt goosebumps, and a smile appeared on his face as he stared up at the flag. For you, it was worth it. For you, my life.

*

Sara

As my 'husband' looked up at the flag, I looked at him. The love he had for his homeland was obvious, as also evident by the small smile on his face.

He was handsome, with short dark hair and a light beard. He had good posture, even as he stood with the aid of a walking stick. His army training was clear by the way he even stood... and by his built.

Music caught my attention and I glanced towards the stage, as people dressed up in different outfits from the four provinces came up on stage. 

"Apni hai ik pehchan, apna hai jispe iman, sab Pakistani milte hain to banta Pakistan." 

*"We have our own identity on which we have faith, when all Pakistanis unite, it forms Pakistan."

I wandered around the stalls, staring at the beautiful jewellery. I took some photos, intending to upload them on Instagram later.

"Have you tried the biryani here?" 

I jumped and turned to look at Shahrez. "Here?" 

He nodded. 

Almost instinctively, my nose wrinkled. "No! From the stalls?" 

"Sure, it's homemade biryani, and people have brought it here to distribute it amongst the people." 

I felt uncertain even now. Last year, I'd ended up with a horrid food poisoning, and I didn't want a repeat of that.

He must have noticed my expression, because he shrugged. "Fine, it's okay. I understand your hesitations." 

I could imagine him thinking: typical overseas brat. "No, it's fine. I'll try some." One spoonful shouldn't hurt, right? Besides, I had plenty of Imodium stocked up.

I followed him to the food stall, and I had to admit, the aroma made me feel hungry. It smelled absolutely delicious... the kind of delicious which made you want to risk even food poisoning.

The biryani was handed over to us in two plates placed on a tray, and I carried it to the table. Placing it down on the table, I sat on a red plastic chair. As he sat down opposite me, I noticed the Pakistani flag badge on his shirt. Then my gaze went to his walking stick, and I asked the one question that was causing significant curiosity inside me. "How did that happen?" I knew that it had happened while he was on duty, but I didn't know exactly how it happened.

"I was on duty." He replied, but he didn't go into details.

I suppose we were not even close to a friendship stage, let alone spousal one. 

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FLASHBACK

"I'm not marrying like that, Mama!" I argued.

"It's a very good family, they're good people, Sara." My mother replied, placing her hips on her hands, looking exasperated. 

"Given their army background, I don't think he'll be willing to move out of Pakistan." I said. "And I don't want to live there!"

"Sara, you'll live a much more comfortable live there." 

"I have a right to chose my own partner, and I will choose him when the time comes." I'd said, stubbornly.

However, in the next trip when I'd met the Hamid family, I liked the family. Well-educated, disciplined and non-judgemental, with modern thinking. I'd started to consider this alliance. I had decided to go with the flow, and let my parents decide. It wasn't like I had anyone in mind anyway.

I asked my parents for some time to think things through because obviously, marriage was a big decision. 

It took me a whole year to make the decision. I'd done my research on the family of General Hamid Shamshad, making sure that they weren't linked to any corruption. My parents had also found out what was necessary, and so our decisions were made.

*

Shahrez Hamid

I still couldn't sleep without having a nightmare about the situation at least once a year. 

I had been shot in the leg by a group who wanted a hostile takeover of one of the smaller cities of Pakistan. Even the police had feared the group, and things had become so bad that it had gained media attention. And once there was media attention, the Chief Minister of the province stepped in. Eventually, when reports of murders from the region had increased, I had been sent there along with a team of other undercover soldiers, to monitor the situation. The operation had been successful, the group leader had been caught and the group dismantled, but I had lost my future as an active soldier in the Army. 

It wasn't that I didn't want to tell Sara the truth. I just wanted ready to discuss it with anyone.

"I was a kid." Sara began. "And we were here during the holidays for someone's wedding. We were in a coach, a minibus, I can't remember, and we were heading out of city for the wedding celebrations. It was night, and all I remember was darkness. We were ambushed and robbed by a gang. All our jewellery, money, everything was gone. We had to turn around and go back home. I don't remember the adults talking to the police, but I remember the conversations that I overheard. They were discussing the state of our society where the police only protected the ones with money. Our case was half-heartedly dismissed, and nobody was ever caught."

"I'm sorry to hear that." I was surprised to hear her admit it.

"I suppose, that trip put me off from our visits to Pakistan." She shrugged. "I suppose, I held onto a stereotype, and wasn't fair enough to at least try and giving this country a chance." 

"So, the UK doesn't have crimes?" I joked.

"Of course it does, and of course every system is corrupt, even if sometimes it's not as blatant." She shrugged. "But I suppose that my mind is still brainwashed by the western media's perception of our countries."

"You know what? I will help you change the perception. I'll show you the Pakistan that the western media doesn't promote." I suggested.

"I really doubt you can do so. This negative perception has been embedded in my mind since childhood." 

"A determined soldier can achieve a lot. Don't underestimate that." I grinned.

My new mission was to get this overseas Pakistani wife of mine to fall in love with the homeland.

I was going to get much more than I'd bargained for in this new mission... something that was going to pleasantly change my life.

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This is going to be a short-story, with only two/three chapters.

I hope you all enjoy this story of falling in love, both with your homeland and with your spouse.

Thoughts and comments?

Thank you for reading and don't forget to vote!