On this New Year's eve when the world was rejoicing and celebrating , I painfully enough , share with you the pain of my broken-to-pieces heart.
How did it all happen, I don't know, certainly not in days ,weeks but the financial crises gradually escalated over the years after the mysterious abduction of my husband Masood Ahmad Janjua in July 2005, in the wake of the War on Terror . My loving husband's work place and his College of Information Technology in his home town Rawalpindi, came so heavily under debts that it had to be closed down today. The 31st of December was the last date given to me to pay off loan or else it will be locked- taken away from me.
It was not just a place where Masood spent his time having meetings with the staff, working out marketing plans and moving around in his special way , but it was a symbol of Masood - a memory of him cherished most lovingly. His personality and taste was reflected in every nook and corner of this small college, his things, his gifts , his books , his paintings on the walls and in fact his scent was everywhere. This is what I have actually lost today not a means of earning . The emotional value of this place was too great, it was too precious for me, even more than anyone can ever understand.
Despite being so desperate in search for Masood and running pillar to post, I couldn't touch Masood for more than 7 and a half years but yes I could touch the round glass ball - a paper weight which used to play in Masood's hands . I could not see him but I could gaze upon his empty chair right in front of me, for hours all day long. I could feel so many things which would have been happening here; the sunshine rays falling on Masood's beautiful face and the same sounds of students chatting, shouting and laughing happily in the corridors, which were now in my ears ....ah but alas all this is taken away from me, in the same way as he was taken away !!!
I packed with my own hands today softly and slowly (as if trying to stop the time), all the personal belongings of Masood from his drawers , shelves and on his very special table. It was the same college he founded in 1999 with a mission to impart quality education to youth and dreaming a bright future for Pakistan. There was a small wooden log too in the drawer, painted in bright colours by our middle son Ali. In the centre he has written CIT (it was the abbreviation of the college name), Masood loved this gift. It remained as it is over all these years no one was allowed to even touch these valuables. The two wooden turtles lying on the table were a gift to remind him of me.... nobody knows that he called me turtle because of my slow mannerism and speech.
I will conclude my aching hearts story with a big courageous smile and with sincere wishes for all the world who hurt me in every possible way;
"HAPPY NEW YEAR ...!! " may it brings real joy and peace to the suffering humanity (amen).
Giving away of CIT is nothing but a small sacrifice for my great cause. I feel contented with in my heart that I did the right thing - the duty to struggle peacefully for the disappeared loved ones has won and the cruel, selfish and negative part of the world defeated. Therefore I will pack up sweet memories and dreams belonging to my loving husband, with in my heart and march on towards achieving my goal - my beloved.
Previously, CagePrisoners has requested the public to support Amina by sending her money, we would ask that you do the same again. The full details are here:
Account Name: Amina Masood
Account No: 716-2
Swift Code : BTUNPKKA
Branch Code : 0179
Bank Address : The Bank Of Punjab,
Please reference, CP appeal, when making any donations.
Jazakamullahkhayr and thank you.