An Unexpected Friend, with an Unexpected End

by Ummara Sheraz (Pakistan)

I didn't expect to find Pakistan

So here I was, someone who barely left the house, headed up to the Margalla Hills with a coworker to see a remote place in the middle of nowhere. What made me leave the comfort of my armchair, laptop, and the convenience of food delivery services? Maybe it was a whim, maybe it was to get in touch with my emotional side. After all, it was New Year’s Eve. I recently quit my job because of my supervisor’s psychological abuse. Ironically, we both ended up going there together. Why go with him of all the people? Well, Jawad left his job in the same organization a few months prior over the same issues. He worked with the government now, and was in a better place. Maybe I thought he’d realize what I went through. Plus, if he was judgmental, I might never see him again. He had already moved to another province for his new job. He actually hit me up, asking if I could meet since he was in town. So I thought oh well. Let’s do it. What I wasn’t expecting was him taking me to a ‘safe place’ in the middle of Margalla Hills. I felt safe enough going with him. He drove safely, and he wasn’t a stranger, but a coworker. Although we would chat a lot at work, I never labeled him as a friend. You’re not really friends unless you meet outside of work. So maybe I thought this experience would change that and we might even end up as best buds. I was awkwardly quiet. Jawad broke the ice with ‘how’s the rest of the team?’ Soon enough, we got into the psychological abuse we both suffered at the hand of horrible bosses. That’s when I opened up about my anxiety issues, the depression, and how I contemplated killing myself (again). As he quietly took in every word, I suspected the typical and judgmental response from him. As he frequently turned on the steep road spiraling upwards, my insides turned. The cover of tall trees on one side and a steep cliff, on the other hand, seemed dreadful rather than beautiful in that moment. Instead, I didn’t expect him to open up about his own mental health issues. He revealed how he left home at a young age. Struggling through life to make it on his own despite coming from a politically connected family. His toxic relationship, the breakup, and subsequent suicide attempts. In that moment his family thought it would be a good idea to bind him in an arranged marriage to a ‘good girl’ that can fix him. It was stressful. But he confessed that his son made it worth it. His infant son, the center of his life, his therapy. He told me that I would find something too if I keep going. Just wait for it. I didn’t expect him to understand my issues, and yet. He stopped and pulled up to his ‘safe place’. It was this little spot looking out over Maragalla Hills, where you had a clear view of the mountains in all their green glory. Normally folks that come to Islamabad swoon over the view that looks down on the city. The serene, green view paired with the clean air, in contrast, was what I needed. For a minute, I felt that I had a friend who finally understands. That’s right, we’re finally friends now. We kept in touch after that and just talked out our feelings. I last spoke to him on February 20th. After that day, Jawad and I did try to meet up several times whenever he was in town. Unfortunately, my thought that maybe I’d never see him again, became the reality. On a Monday morning I was soaking in the feeling of being all upbeat and productive, when a former coworker told me that Jawad had shot himself. My immediate reaction was ‘this is a sick joke, right?’ When I confirmed it was true, the reality hit me. I still think of him as that kind and empathetic guy at his ‘safe place’, finding the strength to keep going one way or another.