Before coming to the “land of the free,” I was born and raised in Pakistan. There was a brief stint where we moved to Bahrain because my father was posted there for the bank he worked for. By the time we returned to Pakistan, I was around 15 or 16 years old, right at that awkward age where you’re trying to figure out where you fit in.
Fitting in academically turned out to be the first hurdle. I couldn’t get admission into any high school because my 10th-grade matriculation exam grades just weren’t that great. This is where the classic Pakistani concept of “reference” (better known as Wasta or Sifarish) comes into play. It’s that age-old system where you find somebody who knows somebody, and you pull a favor. In my case, that favor came from a very good friend of my father’s whom we called ChaCha. He happened to know the principal of Islamabad Model College for Boys (IMCB for short) in the F-7/3 sector.
Just like that, I was in.
But I didn’t even have a proper school bag. All of our belongings were coming from Bahrain on a ship in a container, a process that took months. So, every day, I went to school carrying my books in a free promotional bag someone had given us. It was a bright yellow Kodak bag. It stuck out like a sore thumb, but I carried my stuff in it day after day without a choice.
Life at IMCB: Early Buses and Long Walks
Despite the rocky start, life at IMCB was amazing. It holds some of the best memories of my life, and some of the people I still call friends today are from that exact time period.
Getting there was a daily saga. I took the bus every morning. For half the year, the bus would come incredibly early; for the other half, it would arrive late, just 30 minutes before school started. Those early days were brutal. I had to wake up at the crack of dawn to get to the bus stop by 6:30 AM, which itself was a 20-minute walk from our house.
Then there were the days when I wouldn’t take the bus back home, usually because I skipped school or left early for whatever reason. Coming back on my own left me with only two real options:
- The Long Way Around: Walk an hour from the school, cut behind the Blue Area next to the Saudi Pak Tower, and catch the 120 van to F-10.
- The Scenic Route: Walk along the main Margalla Road, catch a Suzuki van to the intersection where F-9 Park started, walk the entire one-kilometer length of the park, and then walk another kilometer all the way home.
Because there was no public transport on our side of town, and because there were times when I literally didn’t even have the money for a fare, walking wasn’t just a choice, it was the only option.
Hitchhiking and Reality Checks
Looking back, those days of walking from the college all the way home were incredibly interesting. I’d be walking without water, trying to hitchhike a ride across F-9 Park.
Sometimes, luck was on my side and strangers would pull over. Once, I ended up getting a ride in a police van, which was basically a transport bus with no open windows. That was a surreal experience. Another time, we lucked out and got a ride in a brand-new Honda Civic VTI, which was the car to have at the time.
My walks often took me past Froebel’s, an elite school that, at the time, was attended by the son and daughter of Prime Minister Benazir Bhutto. Walking through those ultra-wealthy Islamabad neighborhoods, you couldn’t help but wish you lived like that or had that kind of money. But we didn’t.
That was just the reality of being brought up middle-class in Pakistan. Honestly, thank God for those experiences. They keep me well-grounded to this day.
The Round Market and 500 Rupees
Living in Islamabad back then really was a beautiful experience. Right across from my school was the Round Market, home to an ice cream shop called Hot Spot. That was the spot for all the kids who were dating, hanging out, or showing off their cars.
As for me? I barely had 500 rupees a month in pocket money. We couldn’t afford to hang out there. If we bought ice cream once, the entire month’s budget was completely wiped out.
But looking back, I wouldn’t trade that bright yellow Kodak bag or those long walks across the city for anything. They made me who I am.
