I’m Not Scattered Yet, Even Though I’m Broken
Chapter 4 of “Hold On”: Bacha Khan Library 2011
(N.B. I’m writing a novel, a chapter a week, here on Medium. Find out why I write here, start from Chapter 1 here, and always feel free to give me feedback in the comments. I write here for the community.)
The Bacha Khan Library was a warm, dimly lit room, housed in the corner tower of the Peshawar Technical University. It had a high, arched ceiling that resembled an old Scottish castle; complete with tall shelves filled with thousands of books lining the room.
It was one of the seldom visited places at the university — and, thus, always clean and quiet. The only students who frequented the library were those who planned to take the Central Superior Service (CSS) exam. These poor souls were often found scanning newspapers with their heads in their hands. Even the faculty did not visit the library, although they did occasionally send their peons to issue books under their names.
The only student at the university who frequently disturbed the librarian’s nap sessions was Ahmed. He would spend much of his free time here and often stayed back after his classes to browse through the shelves, from the science and history shelves to the fiction sections. Since the university had a strict policy of only allowing students to issue a book for one week and forbade re-issuing the same book during the year, Ahmed would hang around in the library to finish reading the books he had issued. He did not see any logic behind the library’s policies — especially considering that virtually no one other than him had or would issue those books — but he did not mind spending time alone in the peaceful room. Part of this was because the library made him nostalgic, reminding him of all the times his father would take him to the Archives Library Peshawar as a little boy. The library visits and reading storybooks with his father were his precious childhood memories, and ones that had undoubtedly played a pivotal role in making him the person he was today.
After the last class before the Jummah break on Friday, Ahmed was accompanying Hira as they left their last class of the day. They stepped outside, and a chilly breeze hit their faces, as if announcing the arrival of winter. The sky was covered in thick, grey clouds, and it had begun drizzling already. Hira was disappointed she could not sit at her favorite spot now. Ahmed immediately recommended his favorite spot, the library, as an alternative. Hira had only been there a couple of times before, for research on course projects. Besides those fleeting visits, she had little interest in books. She had always received praise at home whenever she did well in her classes; any interests besides that were considered a waste of time and Hira had subconsciously adopted this mindset. However, she stopped herself from refusing Ahmed’s offer, agreeing instead to go along with him as she was not ready to leave his company just yet. They walked through the red-brick corridors, along the neatly manicured lawns shining with raindrops, and entered the library. Ahmed greeted the librarian as if he were an old friend, and the librarian also nodded back with a warm smile.
Inside the library, Ahmed seemed to be at home. His eyes were wide with excitement as he took Hira through some of his favorite sections. His genuine passion was so contagious that Hira found herself equally excited at the prospect of having such a huge knowledge base accessible to them. Ahmed’s little tour ended at the Urdu Literature section, where he picked up a book by Ahmad Faraz without needing to search for it as if he knew exactly where it was amongst the hundreds of books on that shelf. He told Hira Ahmad Faraz was his favorite poet.
“Maybe that’s because he is also from Kohat like you,” teased Ahmed. Hira smiled a little before realizing that she never knew this. Ahmed was astonished. The poet had been his favorite for many years, and he had assumed him to be a famous figure in his own hometown. He was disappointed when Hira told him there had been no mention of the poet in any of her schoolbooks or classes. Adamant that Hira must know what she was missing out on, Ahmed began flipping through the pages to read out his favorite verses.
Toota to hoon magar abhi bikhra nahein Faraz
Mere badan pey jaisey shikastoon kaa jaal ho*
(*Translation: I am not scattered yet, even though I am broken. As if the web of my sorrows is holding me together.)
As she heard Ahmed recite the poem, she was awestruck. “Thank you for sharing this beautiful verse,” Hira said, making a mental note to read more of Ahmad Faraz’s poetry from now on.
Ahmed then closed the book and asked Hira to tell him more about her childhood. He had only heard about it in bits and pieces. He could tell that it was a topic she was usually not interested in talking about, and never pressed her when sitting with other friends. He was disappointed when she told him there was not much to it, before decisively steering the conversation away from the topic. She asked Ahmed about his plans after graduation. While Sadia was fed up with this question, she was certain Ahmed would have a good response. She was hoping his ideas could also give her some direction. Her parents had been badgering her about this with increasing frequency.
As expected, Ahmed had a well-thought-out plan. He shared that he had not been happy with the way they were being taught at the university. Being the curious soul he was, he had browsed through the curricula of some of the top universities in the world and seen some of their lectures online. The disparity was mind-blowing, he reported to Hira. He told her that, at this rate, they would never be able to qualify for any good job in the IT sector. This worried Hira, who had not known how dire their situation was. As she was mulling this over, Ahmed continued, “Abu wants me to continue studying in the US, so I can really learn something and then get a job there.”
Hira looked at him, trying to comprehend what he had just said.
“I never wanted to leave, but given the state of things here, I might apply to a few places at the end of this year. Let’s see,” he added.
Hira looked like she was about to say something, but then stayed quiet. She wanted to tell him not to move so far away but could not find the strength, especially since she could never tell him the reason for wanting him to stay. The thought of him not being around made her feel like her chest was caving in on itself.
All the ideas she had been nurturing of her future with Ahmad merely half an hour ago had already begun crumbling. In that instant, she was reminded of all that her mother had always told her. She should have known — no one could ever like her for who she was. She had been delusional enough to believe that Ahmed’s kindness towards her was an indication of any sort of feelings. Here he was, casually telling her about his plans to leave. He never considered her a close friend with whom he would have shared these plans earlier, let alone someone he would have asked before deciding.
As they walked out of the library for the next class, Hira was unable to hold back her feelings. She could not be around Ahmed at a time like this. In just a few seconds and a few words, he had shattered the world she had built for herself these past few weeks. She needed to be alone to understand what was happening to her. She told him she had to speak to Professor Arifa and would meet him later, before rushing away. She texted Sadia the same, who had been gone for lunch with a friend during the break. And then, Hira found a quiet corner next to the administration block of the university where she could sit and mend her broken self.
