Honoring our Martyrs

[air marshal]

 

[Creder]

I tried my best to look for this article on this forum, if it has been posted before please merge it but let us all remember these brave shaheeds in our prayers

A national hero already forgotten

“WE found his body parts in different parts of the compound”, recounts constable Ghulam Murtaza, a close friend and colleague of the 30-year-old Faisal Khan, pointing towards the spots. The hero was blown up to smithereens holding on to the suicide bomber who tried to enter the G-7 police special branch on March 23. “He saved all of us, if it weren’t for what Faisal Khan did, we would have all been dead that day,” Mr Murtaza said.

​

“He was a dutiful and an extremely simple man. He loved to play basketball and badminton,” he said. Faisal Khan’s parents were no longer alive and he had no family of his own. They were in total six brothers and one sister. His younger brother, Shah Khalid, who is based in Dubai, was very close to him. He said Faisal Khan was a gold medalist in basketball. “He won a gold medal for Under-17 basketball tournament. He was very interested in this sport,” Mr Khalid added. His older brother said he was a happy go lucky man and was called ‘malang’. “At home we called him ‘badsha’ he enjoyed light food his favourite was barbeque chicken and was an avid drinker of tea. He always wanted to be part of the army or police … he was very duty minded.” “Faisal Khan wanted to achieve something great. Even when the terrorist attack on Sri Lankan cricket team took place at Liberty Market, Lahore, he used to say that he would want to die in the line of duty,” said Amanullah, a police officer. And that is certainly what Faisal achieved. Despite the poor conditions of the police and the faulty hierarchic and bureaucratic system in the police force, he sank with his ship. But was he acknowledged by the state as a hero? Certainly not. Prime Minister’s adviser on Interior Senator Rehman Malik had announced Rs150,000 for his family — which is a measly amount for someone’s life — for someone who sacrificed his life for others and is nothing less than a national hero. So sad is the situation that the police have to submit a recommendation for an award ‘Hilal-i-Jurrat’ and more money for his brave feat.

The G-7 special police branch building is a poorly kept place.

Even after the blast the compound has scanty security. The entrance has a guard behind a barricade of blue sacks of sand. A line of barbed wire is all by way of its defence.

As I left the compound I saw a young bearded boy with a badminton bag by his side raising his hands in prayer. “I used to come here for my Asr prayer, I got to know Faisal Khan over time…he was a very decent man … quiet and kind, when I found out he had died I was just deeply saddened.” My day at the police station was interesting and eerie at the same time. I met a lot of po lice officers who knew Faisal and then a couple of those who came to visit the police station.

A security analyst happened to have arrived just when I was leaving and he mentioned how he had insisted that they beef up their security with the mounting threats. “But they always said they didn’t have funds.” This points to yet another variable- the lack of investment by the government in the police force.

The compound was silent and in the corner where they found the largest part of Faisal’s body was now a kind of memorial in the making, a sheath and a few bunches of flowers lay there. The policemen came out quietly as I interviewed various people, they stood silently.

There was a strong sense of loss. They expressed their gratitude for the fact that someone was covering the heroic story of Faisal Khan’s sacrifice. I actually felt ashamed that someone who should be counted as a national hero has hardly been acknowledged -probably like many others.

Sadly the state too has not shown its appreciation of such a man who saved the lives of so many especially in a time when they are most ill-equipped and the prime targets”. Just think about it how many people would have done what he did? He could have run away but he didn’t when he saw the threat he dealt with it,” said Faisal’s brother.

It's individuals like Faisal Khan who make the difference but get little acknowledgement. When will the government realise that their faces are saved from public humiliation because of the sacrifice of many Faisal Khans.

 

[Xeric]

Daughter of Lt Col Waseem salutes the portrait of her Father who was martyred in attack by Terrorists on GHQ Rawalpindi.

Pride?

It reflects.

i wish we all can have the pride that we see on her face!

 

[Tiger Awan]

This pic is of a Catain Shahhed of 1965 war. He was serving 16 Punjab Regiment. My grandfather ( also serving 16 Punjab as a Company Commander at that time ) preseved his photo.




And there is another Shaheed of the same war I will like to mention.

His name was Maj Mubarik ( also 16 Punjab)

He was a Bengali and date of his Shahadat is 11 sep. Intially he was burried in Lahore and his Family had a plan to shift him to Bangladesh. But due to unsafe sea routes (at that time every one travelled through this mode) his wife decided to leave him in Lahore. All of you do pray for his Family.

My mother ( at that time only 7) still remembers the condition of Mrs. Mobarik. She was holding a Pakistani falg and a cap of her husband untill body was delivered at her residance.

 

[Tiger Awan]

And this is a Eid card photo. May be of 2007 or 08 sent to my grandfather.

16 Punjab Regiment says we do remember all our Shaheeds on all ocassions

 

[air marshal]

We prayed to ALLAH Almighty to rest the departed soul in eternal peace, ameen!







A large number of people offering funeral prayers of soldier Muhammad Majid who embraced shahadat in Wana at Bharki Pull 14.

 

[riju78]

salute to all brave soldiers....

 

[Zob]

yeh ghazi yeh teray pursrar banday...

 

[nightrider_saulat]

you have brought tears in my eyes

 

[air marshal]

 

[air marshal]

 

[Spring Onion]

At the Presidency: Tearful on Pakistan Day

March 25, 2010
Adil Najam


On March 23 I was at the Presidency in Islamabad for the Pakistan Day Awards Ceremony.
This is usually a festive occasion full of pomp and ceremony and amongst the most elaborate state occasions of the year.

The grandest room at the Presidency is all spruced up. There are starched military uniforms bedecked with chests full of shining medals (most of the awards handed out are always military awards). The President as well as the Prime Minister of the Republic preside over the proceedings. National power-brokers - political as well as bureaucratic - are all assembled. Everything is choreographed to convey a sense of pride.

This is how it should be. After all, it is the nation and the state honoring those who they choose to honor. In normal times this should be a day of pride and joy.

But these are not normal times. These tend to be tearful times. And so, too, was the ceremony this year. It was not meant to be that way, but that is what it became. It still conveyed a sense of pride, but it was pride drenched in too many tears.
The event started on a high note with the swearing in of the new Governor of Gilgit-Baltistan, Dr. Shama Khalid and later the merit awards for the military’s top-most brass.

But then came the gallantry award, the Sitara-i-Bisalat, and it was as if the room changed in front of us. It was a parade of wives receiving awards for dead husbands, mothers and father for dead sons, sons and daughters for lost fathers.

Each a poignant reminder of the times we live in. None more poignant than when the young son of Maj. Mohammad Akbar Shaheed - barely 6 or 7 years old - came up to receive his father’s award. Dressed in a child’s mock military uniform he walked up to the President to give a brisk salute. What might otherwise have been cute, was outright heart-breaking. When the President picked up the child to give him a hug he too was fighting back tears. I do not think there was a single person in that huge hall whose eyes had not filled up. Some, like myself and at least a couple of the generals sitting next to me were no longer even trying to hold them back.
Later, it was the wife of a Army Captain, herself in the Army (Medical Corps), whose uniformed presence reminded everyone just what price we are asking our young men and women to pay for our safety from extremists.

When the aging mother of another young shaheed began walking slowly to the dais and the President walked down to meet and console her, I wanted to be able to do the same. Amongst the very few people who was given a Sitara-i-Basalat yesterday and was not a Shaheed turned out to be someone who had actually been a class-fellow of mine in school - Muhammad Nouman Saeed, now a Colonel in the Frontier Corps and a commander in the Bajaur operation. I shook his hands to thank him.

I wish I could thank them all: The wives of the guards who died battling the terrorists who attacked Islamabad Marriott, the brothers and sons of tribals who were parts of lashkars that battled extremists, the mothers and fathers of policemen - too many - who died in trying to hold back suicide bombers. And so many more.


Somewhere during the ceremony, I too got a medal around my neck. But by then that mattered little.
I hope everyone else in the room - President, Prime Minister, Generals, Admirals, Air Marshals, Ambassadors from across the globe, Ministers and politicians, bureaucrats, and all the rest - I hope all of them had the same feeling of gratitude that I had for those who are doing the dying for all the rest of us.

In a sad and sombre way, this was not an easy ceremony to sit through. But I am glad that those who were there, were there. We all need to sit through this. And to think deep and hard about just what we are living through, even as others are not able to ‘live’ through it.
Indeed, all of them made us proud. But the pride was drenched in too many tears. I wish and I pray that when the ceremony is held again next year, there are fewer tears to shed.

But let me end on a note of pride without tears.

One of the last people to receive an award yesterday was young Ibrar Ahmad Ghazi from Konodass, Gilgit.

The young man, who must be in his teens or barely out of them, stood there in an orange T-shirt and black pants with white words and motifs printed on it, sheepishly twitching as his citation was read. I hope he realized just how proud he made everyone in that room - certainly he made me proud.

His story is one of humanity and duty to humanity. He found himself walking over Konodass suspension bridge over River Gilgit just as two young (nursery school) girls fell 160 feet into the river. As others looked on in horror, young Ibrar immediately jumped into the fast flowing river and saved the two young girls.
This, too, was a story of courage that made one proud. May all our stories of courage have happy endings with joyful pride.

 

[H2O3C4Nitrogen]

 

[air marshal]

 

[air marshal]