“Let’s rep the P,” she said in a text message that made me
realize there was no getting out of this. I would have to attend the vigil in
Red Square later that evening to pray for Peshawar, not just because it was
where my identity lay, but because it was what was expected of me. I didn’t
actually want to go; I did just fine sitting in my bed, watching TV post-finals
in my stress-free apartment, not thinking about the horrible attacks around the
world fueled by deep-seated hatred and ignorance—but then my best friend texted
me asking if I was going with her. She was from India, and if she could take
the time out to support the cause, so could I.
I arrived at Red Square at 8 p.m., not actually aware of what
goes on at a vigil. I saw candles, a group of people, and some people holding
candles. I didn’t really understand, so I stood in the back in silence, closed
my eyes, folded my hands, and prayed. Ya
Allah, Ya Muhammad, Ya Ali. It was simple, easy, and my favorite prayer,
calling upon Allah, the Prophet, and Imam Ali. I opened my eyes to people
shuffling around and placing candles around the tree. I decided to make my way
closer and now stood in the center of the circle, where I closed my eyes and
continued praying. When I opened my eyes, the Red Square tree was covered with
candles and people hugging one another. One of my friends came up to me and
gave me a hug. When I went to go hug her back, I couldn’t seem to let go of the
embrace. Nestled under my chin, there she sat as I cried my eyes out at how
these tragic events affected my family.
Both of my parents live in Karachi, Pakistan, and although
the Peshawar incident occurred on the other side of the country, it hit close
to home because of what I knew this meant for my parents—more fear. Fear of
leaving the house to go get groceries because the streets were filled with fire
and raging protesters, fear of going to prayer services because this meant
leaving the house again to cross the street, and most of all, fear of not
knowing what would happen to their lives at any given moment in time. The last
of these is what brought on the tears for me and allowed me to fully mourn the
loss of the innocent children in Peshawar. It is with a heavy heart that I look
out onto the other side of the world and try to seek out the hope that lays
within all of these fears.