The Caves of Islamabad

In Nineteen seventy seven, I took an optional course of Physical Geology, while studying for my engineering degree in Iran. Once the course began, I became immensely fascinated by the amount of information given by the details of rock types and rock formations, and it all reminded me of my rambles in the Margala hills of Islamabad, in my native Pakistan, and for the first time I began to understand many geological features, I had observed there, in light of my newly acquired knowledge. For example, as children, my friends and I used to be greatly fascinated by a deep and very large round hole in the ground, somewhere in the area of what is now sector f-6/1, and what was even more intriguing was the pair of old Peshawar shoes, neatly placed at the bottom. The hole was too wide to be an abandoned well, and the sides were too rough to indicate that human hands had shaped them. It was during the geology course, that I realized that it could be a sink hole caused by subsidence of land due to the dissolving of underlying carbonate rock by subterranean water. This indicated that there could be large caverns under the land surrounding Islamabad, but I had never heard of such features there. It was then that I decided that when I finish my studies, I would go back home and try to discover caves, in and around my hometown. I cherished this dream for a year, until the spring of next year, when, while flowers and plants were coming to new life, half of me went dead, due to a stroke, which is very unusual to occur at twenty one. I was devastated, but the belief that one day I will overcome my problems, which I was convinced will only make me a better person, with a stronger character, gave me strength to carry on.

Difficulties in life undoubtedly toughens a person, but when life is reduced to moving from one problem to another, day in, and day out, and difficulties become a way of life, one becomes cynical about such exalted notions, and problems in life become nothing but something to get over with soon, only to face the next one. My thirty one years of living as a handicapped person, has robbed me of all my cheerful disposition towards my fellow beings, and three decades of high-handedness by others has transformed me from an outgoing emotional extrovert into a cynical automaton, for whom emotions mean nothing but a means to motivate and manipulate others, in order to get my way. I may sound gloomy and self-centered, but the mindset of our society towards the handicapped is indeed such that it is obsessed with reducing them to mere objects of pity, and any attempt by the disabled to become equals, or even to assert their legal rights is replied with a sharp reaction by the social setup to cut them to size, and to tell them their proper place.

Details of my experiences may be uninteresting, but the lessons learned from them may interest the handicapped because of their closeness to the truth. On the whole, friends, acquaintances, family members, and colleagues of the disabled think that since the disabled have limited mobility, therefore their necessities are limited, and they take it upon themselves to decide what their unfortunate fellow human being deserves to have, and what not to have, and if this arrangement comes out to their advantage, and to the disadvantage of their wretched fellow human being, that is just tough luck.

The handicapped must refuse to be stereotyped, and assert their identity as a human being with the same aspirations, desires, and rights like any other human being. Those who help the handicapped out of pure kindness, and on the principle that the disabled should be given a second chance to prove their abilities, and become useful members of the society, are few and far between, and whenever they try to practice this principle, they face much opposition from the pettiness of others, perceiving this as giving undue advantage to the handicapped, thus we often hear references to the handicapped as if they are perfidious, and exploiting their malady, making life difficult for the more noble among them, who only want to give equal opportunities.

During these thirty years, I have met many people of high intellect, and even higher principles, who have helped, but never pitied, and who had respect for human dignity, and who tried to help others to discover their innate abilities, and to give them confidence, so that they would never be in need of help from others. Thus today, by consistent hard work, and an attitude towards life, which concentrated only on improving the quality of life in coming days, always forgiving and forgetting, so that negative emotions do not impair my better judgment, today, I am in a comfortable position, but always planning to get to a situation, from where I can influence others like me to improve the quality of their lives.

Regarding the caves I wanted to discover, since my return to Islamabad, after obtaining my engineering degree, I have been into a subterranean cavern, but it was in USA, the Lourney Caverns near Shanondoah Valley, Virginia. It was an enchanting surrealistic experience, I will always remember. My wish to discover such caves in Margala hills remains a pipe-dream, nor have I heard of anybody discovering one. This is my hope not only for my own children, but all children in my country, that they persevere and preserve the identity of Pakistan. Life abroad for them is usually a lonely and anonymous existence. But it all makes a good story for my children, who one day might fulfill my dream, provided they do not run away from the violence and madness that is overtaking their country, or perhaps, they will stay and help in the effort for sanity to prevail, and like their father persevere to make their life a much better, and enjoyable experience.