Earthquake
and New Tears for a Paradise Lost
By Ras H. Siddiqui
CA
The plains of Pakistan can
get very hot. Temperatures in excess of 115 degrees
Fahrenheit are not uncommon. And if the saying
“Let’s head for the hills” is
a part of our annual ritual here in Sacramento,
California (as we head for the Sierras in the
summer) the same was very much true when we were
growing up in Lahore, Rawalpindi or even far away
Karachi, Pakistan. The capital city “Islamabad”
was in its infancy then and who really knew that
one day it would be California-like in real estate
property prices? In better times I would be commenting
on how that is possible, especially because the
income parity is not there. But this is about
memories.
If Pakistan’s capital Islamabad was once
attractive to us, then the route into Kashmir
was just plain spectacular. And best of all from
Rawalpindi or Islamabad and the heat and the dust
of the Punjab plains one could be in the crisp
coolness of pine forests within a couple of hours
drive. From nature’s ovens, this was indeed
a journey into a cool paradise for us kids. And
on Saturday, October 8, 2005 that paradise was
altered beyond recognition by a single natural
calamity in the form of an earthquake. From a
great distance today I mourn a paradise lost for
not the first but the second time.
We immigrants may not be rich in material but
in memories we often are millionaires. After decades
spent in the United States and participating in
its accessibility to material comforts, thoughts
of a childhood long lost still crop up now and
then. Although not everything was pleasant then,
people “back home” still somehow were
able to retain their dignity amidst a great deal
of poverty. But that tranquility was lost long
before Pakistan became a “Frontline State”
in the war against Soviet expansionism in Afghanistan
and the availability of guns and street heroin
altered many lives in the region.
America in its haste to see the Soviets defeated
in Afghanistan did not experience the fallout
until much later. During that time and now Kashmir’s
paradise had already slipped into its first abyss
as India and Pakistan came close to all-out war
on more than one occasion over this disputed territory.
And between the guns of the militants and the
guns of soldiers the Kashmiri quest for freedom
came to a tragic halt.
From 1947 and especially since 1989 Kashmir has
seen continued tragedy. But only God knows why
it has had to face another catastrophe in the
form of a 7.6 earthquake on October 8th? Tens
of thousands are dead in Pakistani controlled
Kashmir and in Pakistan itself while on the Indian
side of the Line of Control thus far less than
two thousand casualties have been reported. The
question does come to mind as to why do these
tragedies happen in such beautiful places? And
why must God further test an already suffering
people?
While I reflect on beliefs and faith, let me appeal
to both, and humbly ask readers for help for Pakistan
in this, its darkest hour in (post-1971) history.
A calamity of such proportions cannot be prepared
for especially since it was never expected. A
big earthquake was always a possibility in the
Baluchistan province, several hundred miles to
the southwest. But this one has taken everyone
by surprise. Children and schools have been hit
hardest. Many doctors and nursing staff have been
killed as their hospitals collapsed on them. The
immediate need is to bury the dead that are being
found in the rubble and to help the 2.5 million
that are homeless. They need food, clothing (as
winter approaches) and medicine because epidemics
are expected to follow. Please be generous because
you never know when something like this can happen
to you. Hurricane Katrina is still a fresh reminder
for us.
This earthquake in Pakistan and Kashmir is now
history. Deadly quakes will continue to occur
in many parts of the globe and take their toll.
But as we reflect on the fragility of our existence
on this planet, we know that disasters can also
bring out not only the worst but the best in us.
Please be generous towards this cause. These people
are in dire need of help.
Any immigrant’s distance dilemma is rejuvenated
by sudden reminders and the weight of memories
of a home that no longer exists. And sometimes
like being in an earthquake, one is jolted into
thinking back and to shed new tears for one’s
people. The memories of Kashmir, fading with age
still remember a paradise lost.
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