My Lonely Childhood
Chapter 39 of Hold On: Jungle Hut Islamabad 2018
(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.)
On Monday, Hira set out from Peshawar early morning with the intention of reaching her office directly. This was far from ideal; she usually travelled on Sunday so she could rest before the taxing work week began. This time, she had stayed longer for her mother’s sake, and throughout the journey to Islamabad, her thoughts were preoccupied with her mother’s health.
Around noon, as Hira sat at her desk going through emails, she heard a light knock at the door. She knew it was Sarmad before he could walk in.
“Hi, did you have a nice weekend?”
“Uhhh, not really. I mainly went for my mother. I don’t want to step foot inside another hospital for at least a few weeks now”, she added with a wry smile.
Hira had noticed that Sarmad seemed a bit distant, as if his mind was elsewhere. They went on to discuss work and some upcoming projects.
As Sarmad got up to leave, he paused at the door and said, “Can we meet for chai after work today? I’ve been meaning to discuss something with you.”
“Oh,” Hira started apologetically, “Sarmad, I’m not feeling well today. Is it okay if we meet tomorrow after work instead?” She could see Sarmad’s face fall.
“Yeah, sure”. He mumbled noncommittally, while fixing his hair. Hira knew it was a nervous gesture, but she stayed silent. She meant when she said she was unwell; their discussion would have to wait another day.
Once home, Hira indulged in a much-needed late afternoon nap that she had been fantasizing about all day. This was a guilty pleasure she reserved for days when she would be exceptionally exhausted.
She woke up to a call from Ahmad. He seemed to be shaking with excitement when he gave her the news, “Hira we did it! Our startup received the first round of seed funding! Hira it’s $2 million! And we’ve also secured commitments of around $10 million for the second round”. He let out a shaky breath then said, “It’s a dream come true. I’m so happy Hira, and you’re the first person I’m sharing this news with.”
On the other end, Hira sat wide-eyed; infected with Ahmed’s excitement, she let out a shrill shriek, “Ahmad! Oh my God, Ahmad, I’m so happy for you. Thank God for this blessing. See, I knew you could do it, and you did.”
“Lizzy and I are now hiring a team. Once that’s done, we’re all set to start our office in San Mateo.”
Hira wished him good luck. They talked for a little while about other things before Ahmad said he had to go. This was going to be a busy day for him after all. Hira had wanted to discuss her mother’s deteriorating health and other family matters, but decided to hold off as Ahmad was in high spirits. They exchanged warm words before ending the call.
Suddenly, Hira thought of Sarmad, and with a twinge of regret, recalled how eager he had been to meet her. Since she was feeling better now, she texted him, “Hi Sarmad, sorry I couldn’t meet you after work today. I’m feeling much better now. Let’s meet tomorrow at 5:30 pm?”
The next day, they met after work at Jungle Hut, a makeshift cafe at the foot of the Margalla hills. Hira had never visited such a secluded place; it was an enchanting place, and Hira was grateful to Sarmad for being her guide to the city.
Hira wore a maroon, half-sleeve sweater when stepping out of her car. She noticed Sarmad was also wearing a jacket. His curly hair was ruffled slightly by the wind. Hira often compared Sarmad’s hair to Kaifi Khalil’s, wondering if he deliberately styled it that way, though she had never asked him about it.
As they took their seats on the blue plastic chairs, a scrawny young boy with delicate features and very pale skin approached them. He seemed to know his job, and Hira knew for a fact that he was underage. This was a common enough practice, but she remained uncomfortable with the idea. Sarmad had been here before, as he seemed to be on friendlier terms with their young waiter. He commended their chai, and suggested that given the pleasant weather, they could also order samosas. Hira agreed, and as she faced the young boy, she saw that he refused to meet her gaze. He was looking at Sarmad throughout, then he left to place their order.
“How are you feeling today? I was grateful that you sent me an update yesterday; I was worried. Did you visit a doctor?” Sarmad inquired.
“Oh, I wasn’t unwell physically. I was just distressed after my visit to Peshawar. My mother’s health is deteriorating. The doctor said her kidneys are fast approaching the point of no recovery, and other complications are coming up as well, though she had been having regular dialysis. She recently contracted hepatitis, which has severely damaged her liver. I have heard it is a common occurrence among patients undergoing dialysis due to poor technology being used in Pakistani hospitals.”.
Hira took a pause before she said, “I was taken aback by how weak she has gotten. I’ve never seen her this thin before. And I also noticed changes in her personality. She’s not nearly as assertive as she was before she got ill, it’s as if the version of her I’ve known my whole life is fading away.”
Sarmad didn’t know what to say exactly, but Hira took solace in his company and understanding. He said he would pray for Hira’s mother, which was the most he could do, after all.
Hira thanked him; she felt her burden lighten after sharing it with him. She further told him about her brother, who had failed his CSS attempt that would have allowed him to join the government service. However, he had passed another test and was awaiting the final result that would determine his allocation as a Sub Inspector in the Police.
As expected, Sarmad was not familiar with these matters, as his family did not require the social capital that accompanied a government job. Therefore, he offered generic consolation, saying “I’m sorry to hear that, but I’m sure there are better things awaiting him.”
Sarmad seemed jittery, so although Hira wanted to talk some more about family matters like her elder sister’s illness, she paused and asked Sarmad about his situation.
“You tell me, how are things at your end?”
Sarmad gave a nervous chuckle and said, “You’re already so worried, I don’t want to burden you further. It’s something I wanted to share, but we can discuss it later as well.”
It was clear from his tone that he was trying to play off the issue at hand, when just yesterday he had come to Hira with a sense of urgency. Hira knew it was something important.
“No, Sarmad, don’t feel that way. I’ve been dealing with these things throughout my life, they’re part of my routine now. I’m okay, and nothing you tell me will be a burden, I promise.”
By this point, Sarmad seemed visibly uncomfortable, as he had started displaying nervous ticks.
His hands were impulsively grabbing at strands of hair, loosening their curls. Then suddenly, Sarmad let out a deep exhale and became still, looking down at the ground. Both of them were silent. The waiter arrived with their steaming chai and samosas. Sarmad meekly took a sip, and remained quiet. Hira too, sat in silence, observing him. It seemed like Sarmad was on the brink of tears but was holding himself back, not wishing to attract the attention of bystanders.
After a few minutes had passed, Hira said soothingly, “Sarmad, you can trust me. Tell me what’s going on. Whatever it is will stay between the two of us, you don’t have to worry about that.”
Sarmad spoke in a slightly shaky voice, “Hira… I’ve been trying so hard. I really tried this time, but even after this long break, it looks like I’ll have to quit. I can’t hold on anymore.”
Hira leaned forward and continued in her soothing tone, “Sarmad, why do you have to quit? What’s going on?”
Sarmad cleared his throat and glanced sideways before he came clean.
“Hira I have a drug problem. It started when I was in school, doing weed with the other kids, but it’s gotten worse over the years. I‘ve managed to hide it from everyone, even my parents. When it would get really bad, when they would really come after me for not being like the other kids, that’s when I would start using more. It just became a cycle, you know? They would berate me for throwing my life away and I would respond by going further and further away from their ideals.”
“Okay, can you tell me more about the drug issue? How exactly did it start?”
“It was supposed to be a casual thing. Some of my friends thought it would be cool to try, so I joined them. but everyone else moved on and I got hooked. Over time I started using harder drugs. Now I use Ice,” Sarmad replied.
Hira had heard about weed and pills, but she didn’t know much about ice. Suddenly, her mind was filled with images of her uncle and the suffering his drug addiction caused his family.
She commented, “I’ve seen these things in my family, you know, and I know the toll it takes on the person as well as those around them. I can understand your situation.”
Sarmad seemed relieved. Hira was the first person to express empathy and understanding for his situation.
“I was just so lonely throughout my childhood. Everyone had siblings, or they hung out with their parents. Mine always prioritized their work and social life. Other children would share things with their parents; stories they had heard, things they had done at school.”
Sarmad paused.
“I never had such conversations with them. In fact, I often avoided talking to them, because they were always scolding me for something or the other. My studies, why I do not go to the gym, why I was late for school… I can hardly recall a friendly conversation. Instead, they chose to discuss my failings openly with their friends whose children attended the same school as me.”
“Of course, word got around. A class fellow of mine shared these ‘facts’ with everyone, and that’s when the taunting began. I became a laughingstock, but it didn’t stop my parents from maintaining their story circle, even at my expense.”
“A class fellow I trusted came up to me one day. Like everyone else at school, he knew my story, so he offered me EC. It’s a numbing agent they use for athletic injuries, so I was confused at first. But he assured me and said it would help me cope with things at home. Anyway, one thing led to another and before I knew it, I was doing drugs even when I was alone at home.”
He smirked as he said, “I was alone most of the time, so you can imagine how easily things get out of hand.”
Hira was stunned. She thought drug use was only a problem in working-class neighborhoods, like the one she grew up in. Now she saw that even in elite circles, young people often turned to drugs. She couldn’t have imagined that wealthy people had any problems they needed to escape.
“I knew I had a problem, of course. Recently, I tried to reduce my ice usage because I wanted to work. But I found myself going back to it whenever work would get a little challenging. I’ve become so dependent on it over the years, that it prevents me from waking up in the morning and leads to a loss of interest in my work.”
Hira responded, “Sarmad, I completely understand your situation. I know that you rely on drugs to get you through tough times, but I’m glad that you’re aware of the repercussions. I‘ll do what I can to make things less stressful for you. Don’t worry about the office timings, you can come in late in the mornings; II’ll tell HR to back off. All I ask is that you rethink your decision about quitting.”
Hira placed her hand gently on top of his, “I really appreciate your trust in me. Thank you for telling me, I know it wasn’t an easy thing to do.”
Sarmad felt the heat of Hira’s hand which appeared quite soothing for him sitting outside in early winter.
“Don’t give up Sarmad, these things can be treated. We’ll look for a good psychiatrist in the city that specializes in treating addiction. You’ll get better with regular therapy.”
Sarmad was tearing up now. He was caught off guard by Hira’s genuine concern, especially considering that most people would have blamed him for getting into drugs in the first place. Yet here she was, showing no judgement, but instead offering a path to recovery.
Through his tears, he said, “I’ll think about it. The thought of telling anyone makes me really anxious, but you’re right. It’s high time I start treatment.”
They sat quietly for a while, sipping their chai and nibbling on their samosas. Hira signalled the server over and paid the bill.
As they got up and headed towards their respective cars, Sarmad said, “Hira, I can’t tell you what you’ve done for me today. It’s like someone moved a boulder off my chest. Thank you, really.”
“Hey, it’s called friendship. Look it up.”
Sarmad laughed at her witty response. Hira had successfully lightened the mood. Smiling, both of them got in their cars, looking forward to seeing each other tomorrow.
