By Irma Ikram
It took me six hours to cast my vote. My polling station was NA-250 DCW Phase 8, it had become rather apparent over time that the postponing of the votes had been deliberate.
The master plan apparently was that if the votes were delayed then people would give up and go home. The thought of posh aunties melting away their makeup, rich uncle’s without their AC’s and burger kids without wifi couldn’t handle a little sun. In fact dare I say would it be like taking fish out of water?
WRONG. Today at NA-250 I witnessed hope, kindness, and care shared amongst strangers who had ONE common goal. To exercise their right, and vote.
The sun scorched directly over head at twelve o’clock and it was as if time stood still. Sweat trickled down many foreheads, far be it for many women to not have had lunch but rather they weren’t even able to make lunch for their families, but that did not stop strangers from making new families and buying one another food and water. The lines were long and packed with hundreds of people, bodies did not seem to be moving, but rather stood motionless as if the heat had burned them in place. But did that cause shoving, pushing and riots? No. There were chairs scattered about that people not only took turns sitting on but rather insisting that others be seated. Umbrellas were shared by youngsters and the elderly alike, like the shade of a tree that serves to many generations.
We inched along the line, like a tortoise out for an afternoon stroll. Patience never wore thin though, stories were shared, friendships were made and memories were forged forever. We were all fighting the same battle for a better Pakistan, the ink on our thumbs was to be our trophy of how they thought heat would break us.
I am so proud to be Pakistani today, because not only do I know, I have actually witnessed the good in people. I saw courage, strength and bravery and I will never forget it. Pakistan Zindabad!