Posts Tagged ‘acquaintance’

Silence is a little thread that binds the pages to a life-

closed book of chapters, passages, remembrances,

acquaintances, wanderlust, transience, oblivion. No one

speaks about the truth anymore. About


long hours. Segments, anecdotes, soliloquies,

echoes, nuances, ennui, memoirs, silhouettes

of things and places. Sights and sounds.

The mind and senses in harmony. Strange


foreign. Beauty hidden in a labyrinth frozen

in time. Never to be opened for a reading

and not for sale. Summer, winter, spring.


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I met another Pakistani taxi driver tonight on the way to the church for my evening prayers.  I can’t help but speak volumes to him about my father who used to work in Pakistan five years straight without returning to the Philippines.  I can still recall vividly the photographs I used to keep and arrange in our family albums.  They are the landmarks of how great their country was, in culture, in crafts, in livelihood and natural resources.  Many would not believe me that I am dreaming of going to Pakistan one day.

It seems that the place is calling me to visit and tread the footsteps my father has used to be travelling upon.  Eventhough there is a lot of misconceptions about these Pakistani people,  I still look to them as warm and friendly people like us, who also dream of a good life to the point of slaving it through here in UAE.  I feel compassion among these people and I had my father’s heart I know.

I want to see Lahore, Peshawar, Islamabad and Karachi.  I have only seen them in the photographs.  The terrainous sceneries of brick orange patches of earth.  The bounty of pasture land up in the hills.  The mighty rivers and abundant streams.

The woodcarvings and the ornaments in jade.  The rich cultural festivities they have.   And the Pakistani frenzy of people, customs and ideals.  I want to see the summers turning into winter dreams.

How could I ever forget the day my father returned as he unloaded many of Pakistani artifacts and decoratives in our home?  A friend who visited us exclaimed that our  house is like a museum.  My father used to keep stuffed animals from tiger heads, fox skins, elephant tusks and the like.  And how could I forget the strong odor and the rawness of animal hides displayed next to the wooden divider.

There is a lot I needed to discover about Pakistan, and what I am compelled to do is to visit Pakistan and meet my father’s friends.  I would tell them how I am grateful for their hospitality and have kept my father out of danger in those five years.  This time, the legacy of friendship will I carry and bring back the good stories to my father how well pleasing his sojourns as before.  A son treading down his father’s step.  A son who would always treasure the Pakistan stories like never before.

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