During the 1965 war my family of five members, including three kids, lived in Peshawar. My father, (“Allah bakshe”), was the Manager of the State Bank of Pakistan, Peshawar. Manager’s residence was in the State Bank building, Saddar Road. Now, this residence is at Fort Road.
India was very heavily bombing Peshawar, PAF Headquarters. Many people were leaving Peshawar to its suburbs for safety. But we continued living in the State Bank building with the hustle and bustle of the crowded and commercial main Saddar Road. Everybody was offering my father, (“Allah Bakshe”), their homes in and around the suburbs of Peshawar for safety.
Peshawar gave a very deserted look. Shops and traffic were closed. Life had come to a standstill. My father, (“Allah Bakshe”), was extremely loyal, and stayed in the building with guards but wanted my mother, (“Allah Bakhshe”), me, my little brother, and my little sister to shift to any of our well-wisher’s homes in suburbs of Peshawar. We did not want to leave our father, (“Allah bakhshe”) alone.
As India kept bombing Peshawar ruthlessly we took shelter under the suffocating staircases during this 17-day war as my father, (“Allah bakshe”) managed family and office with faith in Allah, matchless willpower, little grocery, and whatever security available.
Experiencing was believing going down the memory lane of an ordeal untold and unheard but unraveled and unearthed to remember the 1965 war with India. Attributing vim, vigor, and vitality pertaining to our patriot’s par excellence!
