The greatest gift : Home is where the heart is — and shall remain

Octogenarian shows patriotism despite all odds

PESHAWAR: When patriotism and love for the homeland knows no boundaries, even living in one room for most of a person’s life seems acceptable.

“I’m bound by my soul and my soul lies within my homeland,” says 81-year-old Shafqat Ara. She even turned down the opportunity to move abroad despite repeated attempts by her adopted son to persuade her otherwise on his annual visit.

A room with a view

Taking a look around the only room she has to her name, people would recognise that Shafqat is far from rich. However, she has intangible wealth that most would struggle to accumulate.

When her adopted son decided to move to England, he asked his mother to join him; only she was not interested. “I don’t like any place,” she says. “I just love my country, my people. Youngsters bring a smile to my face and the charm of my day is the voice of my neighbours.”

The room itself, located in Jogiwara Chafa Gali in Hashtnagri, seemingly belongs to a medieval time. There are charpoys with dusty bedspreads and litter in the corners. The windows are dominated with spider webs and hard to see out of. Even though she is surrounded by dust and all manner of trash such as tissue papers and empty bottles, the octogenarian is grateful for a life under a single rotating fan in the only room in her life.

“In this room I spent my days and nights; happy with my holy books and I live with the hope that I will die right here.”

Everlasting love

The elderly woman speaks about her early life and how she always dreamt of sacrificing her life for the homeland. In her advanced years, Shafqat breathes a fresh sense of patriotism into youngsters that cross her path.



“I receive a pension every month which is enough for the food I need to live and narrate my story to the youth who must understand how special this land is. Patriotism is the fuel that powers and keeps me going.”

When probed further about her past, she slowly takes one’s hand in her wrinkled grip and says her beloved son lost his life in a bike accident in England. “He spoke to me just 10 minutes before he died. I later got a call informing me of his death,” she says. “I cannot speak clearly any longer [due to shock] as I lost my son, but I am grateful to my creator.”

Dreaming the reality

Shafqat Ara recalls partition was a difficult time for her parents who migrated from India. Even though she was too young to realise the significance of the event, flashbacks of 1947 still inspire her.

After migrating, her family took up residence in Peshawar. She recalls the way her father sacrificed everything to provide them shelter in the city.

“Now, my neighbours are my siblings, my city is my mother and my country is my father. Living in Peshawar is like a forever feeling that lasts throughout one’s life. My country is my identity,” Shafqat Ara says proudly. She has no family left, but the neighbours keep her busy with visits; all asking for her prayers.

Shafqat Ara sees freedom as a blessing for which she is eternally grateful.

Published in The Express Tribune, August 14^th, 2015.