The end of an era

There are sad and less-than-pleasant thoughts floating around inside my head these days. I believe they originated in a significant incident that took place about three days ago after dinner time, in our house ��� my father discussed with us, very openly and clearly, our plans to leave the Kingdom��� very soon. This, in itself, is not the cause of my subconscious melancholy ��� but the emotions that it triggered are wounding me still.

They say that wherever in the world you are, the link between you and your birth-place, or where you spent your childhood, does not dissipate. Tabuk was my home 24/7 from my birth up till 2000 when I moved to Pakistan but visiting intermittently ��� in the summer, and sometimes the winter, holidays ��� strengthened my emotions. Whenever we arrived in the city from Pakistan, I always felt I had come home ��� and when I returned to Pakistan, drove to our apartment, Karachi was new to me��� again.

We have lived in Tabuk in the same apartment for almost twenty years��� the walls, the doors, the furniture, the little courtyard with the Bougainvillea tree, the countless cats��� they left their marks on me and molded my personality. I grew up in this city and it, too, grew up with me��� from a small town, it developed into a sprawling metropolis and of late, much attention has been paid to encourage its development. And, when finally Tabuk has taken off as a complete city with the utility problems and other messes cleared up, we���re departing���

For any human being, some sort of cultural background coupled with a few material possessions is absolutely essential for survival. Take away a beggar���s cloak or his collecting bowl and he will be stooped in misery because those possessions enabled him to relate to life, to the living ��� they were ���standards���. To me, my life in Tabuk, represented by our humble apartment is and will always be a standard��� but there is pain, knowing that this standard will exist only in my memories after some time��� it will become a ghost of it���s former self. Now that is very destabilizing.

When my father announced his plans to pack up, and the reasons behind it, he also stated that he was the one who would miss Tabuk the most. I was wounded ��� Tabuk, my birth-land, would be a greater loss to me and I immediately said so. But he pointed out that he���d been working in Tabuk for almost 28 years now ��� shocking, isn���t it? When he came to this place, it was a small outpost and farming area��� the surrounding desert forever threatened to cut short its development into a city. But the city won and it was born before his eyes ��� yes, I admitted, he���d miss it most perhaps. And for him to pack from a place at the age of 56��� very, very destabilizing.

Every expatriate who works here is always aware that sooner or later, he or she will leave this place and go back to the ���homeland���. But the time factor is most important here��� like an aged tree, my father is strongly rooted into this soil, this lifestyle and routine. My sisters and I emerged from this very soil, soft and delicate. My mother���s married life began in Tabuk. We���re firmly rooted��� it���ll take a lot of painful and destructive pulling to take us out of this land.

But then, change is bound to happen sooner or later and it is what brings about the best qualities in people, develops in them an immune system ever ready to face new challenges. My father quotes the Quran and says,

���Kullo man alaiha faan.���
(Whatsoever is on it [the earth] will perish.)

- Ayah 26: Surah Ar-Rahman

Everything that I place so much importance in, everything that seems to me to be essential for my survival will all perish ��� except for faith in Allah ��� may it never leave my heart. This seems to be quite a bit to take down but with constant self-counseling and reminding myself about the real priorities of life, I just might do it. The insecurity I���m, afraid of today, in leaving Tabuk might be countered by hopes and aspirations for what lies ahead.

A big change will now take place in our lives, as a family. Split into two since 2000, we will now, inshAllah, be able to live together in the same house ��� a complete family ��� not separated by thousands of miles. My father will be able to witness again our daily struggles and joys, guide us, be there for us in every possible way, inshAllah. My mother will be able to return to her original duties and shed off those extra worries which come with being solely responsible for the kids ��� inshAllah.

Perhaps the Prophet (pbuh) wanted to avert these sad feelings in the Ummah when we said that we should live in this world like a traveler who sits in the shade of a tree��� he fulfils his need to rest but he also draws strength for his journey ahead��� his gaze never wavers from the road. Likewise, let this world be a source of comfort but never make it, of yourself, the reason for sorrow.