When I got into the car, I asked if I could sit by the window so I could see the country of which I’m meant to call partly my home. The driver insisted that I shouldn’t, but I failed to understand why he was telling me not to, so I ignored him and sat by the window anyway. As we came out of the airport, I noticed that the roads were dusty and were as grey and as dull as the clouds in London as if it is about to rain. There was hardly any vegetation, which sent a message to my mind that obviously it doesn’t rain much. Looking out onto the roads, I noticed many children sitting by the sides of the roads. They looked upset and hungry and I was feeling concerned for them. But as we went further into the villages, I began to see many children with torn shirts, and ripped shorts, with no shoes, scruffy hair and mud all over their faces. Even mothers were sitting on the sides of the roads. Their clothes were ripped and their hair was dry and tangled. A sudden shiver ran down the back of my spine. I felt disturbed knowing that my home country was letting people live in such poverty. Looking at all these people lying on the side of the road made me feel so upset and shocked to see so many people living their lives like this.
The car was in a traffic jam, so I decided to roll down the window and give money to a few selfless little children crying on the surface of mud and rock. As I let out my hand towards them, I suddenly saw a group of children rush towards me like a flock of birds at such a great speed. As much as I wanted to give them all money, I knew I couldn’t as if I gave money to some children, I knew I would have had more company. I was still very alarmed to observe such a disappointing atmosphere, and I began to thank God that I wasn’t living in these conditions. I tried to think of reasons at that point, to figure out exactly how people end up being homeless and living in rotten and unsettling surroundings.
The car drove on, and I was beginning to feel depressed. I needed a break from the journey, so I asked the driver to pull over so I could get something to eat. As the driver did so, a man suddenly rushed himself towards the car and placed himself at the door. My immediate reaction was to lock the doors and to not take any notice of this man, but I couldn’t help myself but to just stare at him. He was covered in blood and had cuts all over him, and he was wearing nothing but a pair of diminutive sparse shorts to cover himself. As a tear poured out of my eye and rolled down my cheek, I had asked the driver to go as I could not bear to look at the man in such agonising pain. The pain I saw in the man’s eyes was so hurtful, that I could almost feel the torture he was going through. I closed my eyes, and within minutes I fell asleep.
A few hours later I woke up and found myself going through a typical town. There weren’t so many poor people on the road and it was much cleaner. But the streets were very busy, with people doing their everyday shopping and markets all over the streets of the town. Driving further into the town, I noticed a big change from dirty side roads with scruffy children begging for money to a patch of vegetation with decently dressed youths playing cricket on the green. I questioned my family as to where we were and they told me that we where in a place of which they called “Defence”. They told me that this is where the fortunate families get to live were it is safe and much quieter and relaxed. I couldn’t believe that just a few hours ago I was witnessing a man with blood all over him, and now I was in “Defence” watching children play happily and safely, with decent clothes on!
Even though Pakistan and India are two very different and contrasting cultures, they have something in common. Poverty, homelessness and aids. Going back to Pakistan made me think of how lucky I was to have a roof over my head, a stable family and a successful dad who is able to support my family. Even though I went to Pakistan to go back “home”, I realised that my real home is here with my family and friends who love me so much. Going to Pakistan put my thinking into a different light and path. The path of knowledge and wisdom. It helped me realise that I take most things for granted, and that I should value everything I receive in life, whether it’s good or bad and that I am lucky enough to be where I am today. In today’s world, I don’t think people appreciate how lucky they are to have a roof over their head. I don’t think they even realise that the people on the street would do anything for a drop of water, where as we can just open a tap and out it flows. When I was little my mother would always make me eat everything that was given to me on the plate and to be thankful that I had something to eat, and now I know that I should be thankful for everything that is given to me because looking at all the homeless and starving people makes me grateful for the things that I have. If anyone else could see how the people on the street lived, they would think again and would also value the life they have of being safe. When I saw the man with blood all over him, all I could think about was how he got there. Even at this instant, almost two years later, it still ponders in my mind.
= By Salena Sharma =
=11JEH=
