September has a different feeling.
Perhaps it is because
the green and white of our flag
seems a little more meaningful,
or because the stories of our soldiers
come closer to the heart.
I have grown up around uniforms.
In my family,
the uniform is not something
I only see on special occasions.
It is part of our lives.
It has meant postings far from home,
long days of duty,
waiting for someone to return,
and learning that sometimes
love also means letting someone go.
When I was younger,
I did not understand any of this.
I only knew that a soldier
was someone who protected Pakistan.
Now I know
that there is so much more behind that word.
There is a person
who has a family waiting for him.
A mother who worries.
A father who is proud.
Children who miss their father
and learn to be brave too.
There are birthdays missed,
festivals spent away from home,
and countless small moments
that can never be returned.
Yet they continue to serve.
That is what touches me most.
We often talk about the courage
of the soldier standing at the border,
but I think there is courage
in the family waiting at home too.
And then there are those
who never return.
Their names become part of our history,
but for their families,
they remain a son,
a brother,
a husband,
a father.
I sometimes look at the flag
and wonder if we realise
what it represents.
We see its colours.
We sing for it.
We stand beneath it with pride.
But behind that pride
are years of sacrifice,
nights of uncertainty,
and lives given for a country
that they loved more than themselves.
September reminds me of those days.
Of the soldiers who stood firm
when Pakistan was tested.
Of the courage that did not ask
how difficult the road would be.
Of those who knew the danger
and still chose to stand.
I am only a student.
I cannot understand the battlefield
the way a soldier does.
I cannot know what it feels like
to leave home with the knowledge
that your duty may demand everything.
But I can understand gratitude.
I can understand respect.
And I can remember.
Perhaps that is the least
we can give to those
who gave us so much.
So, when September comes,
I will not think of it
as just another month.
I will think of the people
whose courage allowed us
to live our ordinary lives.
I will think of the families
who gave their loved ones
to Pakistan.
And I will look at our flag
with a little more feeling than before.
Because somewhere behind
every peaceful morning
is the sacrifice of someone
who chose to stand awake
so that we could sleep.
September,
please remind us.
Let us never become so used to freedom
that we forget the people
who protected it.
And to every soldier
who has served my country,
I may not have the words
to repay your sacrifice.
But I have pride in my heart.
I have gratitude in my heart.
And I will remember.
