I was recently invited to a trip to Iran and Iraq by a group of close friends from Lahore, and as I had never been to these states before, I decided to take the opportunity to visit the shrines frequented mostly by Shia pilgrims. After all, how else was I going to be able to travel through war-torn Iraq (where the Islamic State has only recently been defeated) and gain access to the heavily sanctioned country of Iran? Mesopotamia – the cradle of civilisation and home to many Imams of the Islamic world – has been off-limits to most ordinary tourists since the days of Saddam Hussein. We took off from Lahore and a few hours later found ourselves landing in Baghdad, the famed city of The Arabian Nights. The airport was small and run-down, and we had to wait for at least two to three hours for our group visa to be cleared. We waited patiently and entered Baghdad at dusk; there were palm trees galore and the roads were smooth enough. Our excitement was mounting as we headed straight for the illuminating shrine of Ghous Pak (Sheikh Abdul Qadir Jilani). We paid our respects at the beautifully lit white shrine, ate the delicious langar (communal meal) of rice and chicken (provided by a Pakistani family from Faisalabad) and then headed to our hotel. We felt more than welcomed to a city founded on the west bank of the Tigris in 762AD by the Abbasid dynasty. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="600"] The beautifully illuminated shrine of Ghous Pak[/caption] [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="450"] The door to his shrine[/caption] [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="419"] His final resting place[/caption] We stayed at Hotel Palestine, which is located near the ancient Tigris River, with a colourful history of its own; it was a favourite among foreign journalists during the Gulf wars and had been shelled! [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="600"] View of the Tigris River from Hotel Palestine[/caption] There are roadblocks all over Iraq and paramilitary forces with armoured vehicles can be seen on all major roundabouts. The receptionist at our hotel smiled and clapped joyfully when she discovered we were Pakistani and gave us comfortable rooms (our recent military standoff seems to have made them happy). Baghdad looks like it is stuck in an 80's time warp – the buildings all seem to be from that era. However, most of the debris from the bombed-out infrastructure has been removed. We found it to be a bustling city with crowded restaurants and bad traffic jams. We crossed the Tigris River many times, the last one being to visit the shrine of Persian mystic Mansur al Hallaj. He is known for his saying, “I am the Truth”, which many saw as a claim to divinity resulting in his execution, while others saw it as an instance of annihilation of the ego. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="450"] The tomb of the Persian mystic[/caption] We also visited the burial place of Abu Hanifa, the founder of the Hanafi school of Sunni jurisprudence. However, the highlight of our Baghdad stay was the visit to the north of the city to Kazmain, where Imams Musa al Kazim (AS) and Muhammad al Jawad (AS), both direct descendants of the Prophet (PBUH), are buried. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="600"] Outside the Ziyarat of the Kazmain Imams in Baghdad[/caption] This is a world famous shrine and one of the most important mosques in the Islamic world, with a huge gilded dome and four minarets rising above its courtyard, all covered with gold, Kufic inscriptions. There are canopied balconies, mirror mosaics, glazed tiles, and endless floors of marble. The final resting places of all the Imams buried in Iraq, we were to discover, were equally awe-inspiring. The shrine was very crowded during our visit and there was a long walk to it as it has been bombed in the past, which is why the nearby streets had been cordoned off. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="600"] Armoured vehicles and soldiers guarding shrines are a common sight in Baghdad[/caption] The other highlight of our Baghdad visit was to the 2,000-year-old Persian monument Taq Kasra, or Arch of Ctesiphon, the world’s largest brick vault. Somehow it has survived all the recent wars and is truly a sight to see, given its immense scale and elegance. Taq Kasra is located near the shrine of Salman al Farsi (RA), a companion of the Prophet Muhammad (PBUH) and the first Persian to convert to Islam. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="450"] Taq Kasra[/caption] On our last day in Baghdad, we headed to the ancient town of Samarra to visit the 10th and 11th Imams, Ali al Hadi (AS) and his son Hasan al Askari (AS). Both are buried in a heavily-guarded shrine, which has been bombed twice in recent years and had to be rebuilt. Adjacent to the mosque is another domed building built over the cistern where the 12th Imam, Muhammad al Mahdi (AS), disappeared; hence the title of the Mahdi, the Hidden Imam. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="600"] The last place Imam Mahdi was seen[/caption] We were sorry to leave Baghdad – there was much to see and such little time – but we had to move on to Karbala, where rain greeted us. Powerful energy emanates from this city, the burial place of Imam Hussain (RA), the grandson of Prophet Muhammad (PBUH), near the place where he was martyred during the Battle of Karbala in 680AD. Within the shrine of Imam Hussain (RA), we found the mass grave of all 72 martyrs of Karbala who fought and died alongside him, despite the heavy odds they faced. We soon joined the thousands of people jostling to enter the Ziyarat. Opposite is the shrine of his brother, Hazrat Abbas (AS), who was also martyred during the Battle of Karbala by Yazid’s men while bringing some water from the Euphrates River for the Prophet’s (PBUH) family. There is a lovely walkway lined with palm trees between the two shrines, and we often went there to sit and pray as our hotel was nearby. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="600"] Hazrat Abbas (AS) shrine glistening as the sun sets in Karbala with the walkway in front[/caption] Our next stop was Najaf, and luckily our hotel was located right next to my favourite Ziyarat: Imam Ali’s (RA) resplendent shrine. He is considered the father of Sufism, as almost all Sufi orders claim their descent from him. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="450"] Imam Ali's (RA) shrine in Najaf[/caption] [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="450"] The entrance to the shrine[/caption] After visiting his peaceful shrine, we went to Kufa to see the great mosque, one of the oldest in the world, where Hazrat Ali (RA) was struck by a poisoned sword and passed away after two days. We visited his simple but elegant house next to the mosque (thankfully preserved by the Iraqi government) where his body was washed before being buried in secret. Imam Ali (RA) had earlier dug a well in his house and even today one can drink its healing waters. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="600"] The Great Mosque of Kufa[/caption] [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="600"] The house in Kufa has been preserved by the Iraqi government[/caption] Our final stop was the city of Mashad in Iran, home of the eighth Imam, Hazrat Ali Reza (AS), whose shrine is really the heart of the city – all roads lead to his Ziyarat! We took a short flight from Najaf to Mashad, which is the second most populous city in Iran. Mashad means the place of martyrdom; Imam Reza (AS) was poisoned by Caliph al Ma’mun. A fact I learned during my journey is that none of the Imams lived to an old age – all were poisoned or assassinated. Imam Reza’s (AS) ornate shrine is enormous, with its many courtyards and mosques, and is considered the Vatican of Iran, run in an efficient and orderly manner. It is also gorgeous, with its Persian carpets and crystal chandeliers galore. We were lucky enough to eat from the shrine’s famous langar and enjoyed the Imam’s hospitality! [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="600"] The underground crypt where people can pray and meditate[/caption] Mashad is a clean, modern city, and feels like it could be anywhere in Europe, except all the women wear long black chadors. Before we knew it, our visit was over, and tired but rejuvenated we found ourselves on the plane back to Lahore. There were so many memories to treasure and so many adventures to retell. Iraq is slowly recovering from war and getting back on its feet, and I would recommend everyone to go visit this fascinating country alongside Iran, regardless of your religious beliefs. As we were told wherever we went, “Ziyarat qubool.” (May your pilgrimage be accepted) (All photos by author)

In the post-modern world, the topography of the city has undergone a drastic shift. Rapid urbanisation and growing job opportunities have resulted in many cities in the developing world being swamped by an increasing number of people coming in from the villages and suburbs. In order to accommodate this burgeoning populace, the intrinsic structure of the modern metropolis has had to evolve. Countries such as India and Pakistan have had to grapple with the dual ambitions of wanting to urbanise their cities while also wanting to hold onto their rich architectural heritage. The complex history of a multi-ethnic country such as Pakistan has been razed to the ground in order to erect soulless towers to replace the colonial monuments which have served as a reminder of our turbulent past. [caption id="attachment_81733" align="alignnone" width="600"] Heritage building encroached on by local traders at Jamia masjid road.[/caption] Rawalpindi is an example of a city wrestling with these two seemingly dichotomous aims. On the outskirts of the Rehmanabad Metro station lie some old houses with large verandas and an edifice which is almost reminiscent of the homes in Downtown Abbey. Erected in the early 1960’s, they adorned the city with their marvellous porticos and the locality came to be known as Satellite Town. During the time that Islamabad was being built as the nation’s new capital, Satellite Town functioned as a diplomatic enclave of sorts, with many embassies located there. The Victorian-style houses were thus built to accommodate foreign dignitaries residing in the city. [caption id="attachment_81748" align="alignnone" width="600"] A night view of Jamia Masjid Rawalpindi which was founded in 1905.[/caption] Over the years, however, as Islamabad became the diplomatic hub, Satellite Town found itself shrinking in importance, and the neighbourhood was consumed by a city which was expanding at an unprecedented rate. The old houses of the locality now stand like ghostly relics of the past. [caption id="attachment_81678" align="alignnone" width="452"] Chan bazaar, Rawalpindi.[/caption] [caption id="attachment_81734" align="alignnone" width="450"] A view of Raja Bazaar road.[/caption] In a house on Sadiqabad road lives an old engineer who has closed the gates of his house, along with his heart, to the outside world. The resident is Afzaal Ahmad, a man who comes from a distinguished family of army personnel. While looking at his old photographs, Ahmad recounts: “The Rawalpindi I was raised in was a marvel, an image straight from the British calendars. Smooth clean roads, small markets, coffee shops along with a nice book shop (London Books company), low traffic and an orderly crowd.” [caption id="attachment_81736" align="alignnone" width="600"] The main entrance of the Afzaal Ahmad's house.[/caption] [caption id="attachment_81737" align="alignnone" width="600"] Old magazine ads from the collection of Afzaal Ahmad.[/caption] [caption id="attachment_81745" align="alignnone" width="600"] Rawalpindi's Kashmir Road in the 1960's. From the records of Afzaal Ahmad.[/caption] The markets at the time were quite small and there was only one major road in Saddar at the time, Mall Road, which catered to everyone's needs. Ahmad recalls that the famous road had a hairdresser, a laundry shop and few clothing outlets as well. He adds: “I remember most of my classmates in Station school were British or Anglo-Indians. Anglo-Indians were considered to be the most educated after the British. I still remember this one Anglo-Indian traffic sergeant who used to roam around alone on Murree road. People were so afraid of his discipline that they wouldn’t cross the road until he had gone away.” [caption id="attachment_81738" align="alignnone" width="600"] Backyard of the house.[/caption] [caption id="attachment_81743" align="alignnone" width="600"] An old building occupied by partition migrants in Saddar.[/caption] For Ahmad’s generation, and the ones which followed, things took a downward turn after Zulfiqar Ali Bhutto came to power. Fearing the consequences of nationalisation and increasing religiosity, many foreigners fled the country. The Anglo-Indians too fell prey to this and many migrated to America and Australia. The resultant vacuum gave rise to a new emerging class of locals who had a different mentality. They were hungry to tear down the old to make way for the new. [caption id="attachment_81744" align="alignnone" width="338"] An old temple in miserable condition in Moti Bazaar.[/caption] [caption id="attachment_81749" align="alignnone" width="475"] A name plate outside a house in Dhakki mohallah, Angat Pura.[/caption] Rawalpindi as a city has always had a storied history. Punjab has been ruled by Graeco-Bactrian Kings and later by the Sakas, Iranian nomads, and in 1765 Sardar Gujjar Singh controlled the area which is now called Rawalpindi. The city remained under Sikh rule till 1849 when it was taken over by the British. Hence, this land has had many identities, and one can find linkages to an extraordinary past through the city’s buildings and districts. [caption id="attachment_81679" align="alignnone" width="600"] A view of Moti bazaar, Rawalpindi.[/caption] Despite the removal of the Sikh Raj, the Sikh community remained an integral part of the cultural fabric of Rawalpindi till 1947. Their remnants are still visible in Kartarpura, Angatpura, Arjun Nagar, Mukha Singh state, Old Banni and adjoining areas. The city was predominantly influenced by Rai Bahadur Sujan Singh whose haveli (house) still stands in the old Bhabra Bazaar. Rawalpindi at one point in time was a jewel, a unique blend of both old and new architecture. Over the years, people that have been allotted these vacant properties have damaged them due to sheer negligence, and today these buildings are but a shadowy reflection of their former glory. [caption id="attachment_81739" align="alignnone" width="600"] An old pre-partition haveli in Saidpuri gate trying to save its colors from the wrath of the modern age.[/caption] [caption id="attachment_81741" align="alignnone" width="600"] A colonial style balcony on College Road, where famous Indian actor Balraj Sahini grew up.[/caption] Rawalpindi today is a chaotic labyrinth. Building laws and municipal regulations are virtually non-existent. Politicians and profit-driven land owners have given local municipal authorities the approval to demolish heritage buildings and sites. Commercialisation has trumped heritage. Heretics have squashed history. Rawalpindi still has the potential to become the epicentre of regional heritage, but only if preservation work is begun immediately. Today, the view from the metro bus offers a gloomy look at a frenzied skyline onto a city which does not know what it wants to be because it has forgotten what it once was. (All photos by author)

It had been some time since I cried while reading a book. And A Place for Us changed that. Fatima Farheen Mirza’s dazzling debut novel tells the story of a South Asian Muslim family living in America. The family members find themselves torn between discovering their individual selves, while also grappling with their respective roles within the family. As a result of living in a deeply polarised American society, the characters in the novel are in a constant battle with themselves, their family and the world around them, each looking to find relevance, liberty and peace. Interestingly, one of the main talking points with regards to this book has been Sarah Jessica Parker's involvement in its publication. The Sexy and the City star chose Mirza’s novel as the first book to be published under the Parker imprint for Hogarth publications. A Place for Us begins at the wedding celebrations for the family’s eldest daughter, Hadia, in California. The occasion, however, is made all the more special due to the youngest child and only son, Amar, coming back home after having fled three years ago. The story thus revolves around the circumstances which led to Amar’s estrangement from the family and the narrative is interspersed with memories from the parents, Rafiq and Layla, and their children, Hadia, Huda and Amar. What I found particularly inventive about the narrative was how the story unfolds through the point of view of a host of different characters, with the same memory often being shown through different perspectives. We are thus able to see how the same moment impacted each member of the family in a wholly unique manner. Mirza beautifully brings to light the nature of familial love, which can be limitless and unwavering, but also envious and petty. The depiction often seems like that of a typical diaspora family, with parents trying desperately to instil both Muslim and South Asian values in their children and encouraging them to speak their native language at home. The author explores the subtle dynamics of the household, from the siblings safeguarding each other’s secrets, to the family following Islamic rituals and customs like fasting in the month of Ramazan and observing Muharram. But that’s just the feel-good part of the book. What is heart-wrenching, poignant, and particularly relevant for our part of the world is how Mirza explores the pressure parents tend to put on their children. South Asian parents often have their own expectations from their children, insisting that they must be obedient, unquestioning Muslims and top performing students who go on to become either doctors, engineers, lawyers or entrepreneurs. The novel attempts to illuminate how pitting children against one another, failing to acknowledge past mistakes and the inability to express love can tear a family apart. Hence, when Amar leaves, a part of Rafiq and Layla’s souls also leaves. But by then it’s too late to mend their broken ways. Perhaps the saddest thing in the world is to see your child leave you because of your own mistakes. Not feeling at home with your own family is a tragedy, one which Mirza renders beautifully on the page. And so, I cried when the family was torn apart because of secrets, betrayals, and the smallest of estrangements which could no longer be brushed under the carpet. The last section of the book, told from Rafiq’s perspective, is absolutely devastating. The feelings of an emotionally-reserved father, who falls prey to his own shortcomings, are expressed in a remarkably raw and affecting manner, which is quite an achievement for a debutant writer. Mirza has done a truly commendable job at penning down the story of a family over decades, and it is no surprise that her novel has received great critical acclaim. The recurrent themes of children trying to find their own identity and parents trying to protect and understand their children resonate at a deep level. After this stellar debut, one hopes that Mirza is able to pack the same amount of authenticity into her next novel, one which I am eagerly awaiting.

“My dear Marwan, I look at your profile, In the glow of this three-quarter moon, my boy, Your eyelashes like calligraphy, Closed in guileless sleep. I said to you, ‘Hold my hand. Nothing bad will happen’.” These are a few verses from the context of Sea Prayer, the fourth book by Khaled Hosseini. Hosseini is a well-known author of three books, including the international bestseller The Kite Runner, and is the Goodwill Ambassador to the Office of the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR). Sea Prayer is a 40-page book, or rather, a free verse poem beautifully complemented by Dan Williams’ illustrations. It can best be described as a small prayer to the sea by a helpless father on a moonlit beach, who is going to cross the Mediterranean with his child as soon as dawn arises but in less than ideal circumstances. The story begins with the remembrance of the happy days spent by the father in Homs, Syria when the city was at peace, with its bustling and crowded lanes and streets. Of a time when the stirring of the olive trees and clanking of pots used to awaken him, and when this city of western Syria was not dismantled by bombs, starvation and death. The father wishes for his son to remember some of the more pleasant memories of Homs. The story has been inspired by the three-year-old Syrian boy Aylan Kurdi, whose body washed up by the sea on the shore of Mediterranean Sea in 2015 as he fled the Syrian War. While talking in an interview, Hosseini became teary-eyed even as he remembered seeing the photograph of Kurdi. “I was gutted,” he says. “I tried to imagine, as a father, what it must be like to see viral photographs of your deceased three-year-old lying face down on the sand at the water’s edge and being lifted into the arms of a stranger.” He also stated, “I hope that this book Sea Prayer is a small tribute not only to his (Kurdi’s) family, but also, on a broader level, I hope it highlights the unthinkable despair that thousands of other ordinary people face every day to abandon home and community and take a chance on this brutal and often lethal journey across the sea.” Hosseini thus pays tribute to Kurdi’s family through his Sea Prayer, while portraying the tragic and wretched condition of millions of refugees all over the world with help of Williams’ illustrations. The beautiful memories of Homs are like a dream now, not only for the son but also for the father. Protests followed by the atmosphere of fear and beleaguerment, the black skies showering bombs and bullets instead of rain, and the sight of living bodies buried under devastated buildings is all that remains in their memories of Homs. In Sea Prayer, Hosseini not only points out the way in which the war imposed by mighty powers upon Syria has destroyed the childhood of millions of innocent kids, but also highlights the emergency and the growing crisis of refugees being forced to leave their homes and approach smugglers in search of safe shelters which are in actuality not safe at all. A heartrending letter from a father to his son provokes in us the thought of the thousands of refugees who risk their lives on the threshold of death every year just in search of shelter, while many of them simply perish at sea without leaving anything behind. Every night they sleep among the remains of human flesh burnt by explosive bombs, with their own bodies stained by blood, dreaming of a better future – a hope for a safe shelter, a desire for a home. Carrying their misfortunes, they are longing for acceptance and searching for a place where they are welcomed. But no one cares. Not even the sea. The sea is deep. It is vast. A large swarm of unwelcomed and unasked bodies of flesh are waiting impatiently at the cold beach for the sun to rise. The father sees his son, his only precious cargo, and tries to console his sleeping being with his words, while praying that the sea knows his worth. It kills him every time he thinks of the depth and vastness of the sea and the helplessness of his own self. At this instant, the mother’s voice comes up: “Oh but if they saw, my darling. Even half of what you have. If they only saw. They would say kinder things, surely.” The book will make tears fall out of your eyes silently as the deep ocean engulfs the bodies of thousands of refugees fleeing war and persecution. Some pages are without any words, and here the illustrations speak more powerfully than words ever could. Quietly, they will make your heart wail in silence due to the barbarity of what we call human beings. Humans, the greatest creation ever to be created, that cannot even feel the pain of its fellow beings. Every word, every illustration in this book will leave a deep mark on your heart. The demonstration of the transformation of a peaceful, crowded and bustling Homs into the city of death; no one could have written this better than Hosseini. No words could carve out such an impression on a heart other than his own. This book deserved to be written purely, with a heart that could feel the pain and emotions of thousands of homeless Syrians, Afghans, Somalis and Iraqis. Then who would be better than Hosseini to write it? After all, no one could feel the pain of a refugee better than a refugee himself. As he stated, “If I was a father on a moonlit beach about to take one of these journeys, you can bet that I would... say one of these prayers too.” Sea Prayer is about questioning your own self: what would you have done if you had to abandon your home and cross a deep sea on a cold night? How would you have reacted if you had lost your loved ones in the same sea? Imagine them dead. Imagine their fates being ended as a feast for the sea. Imagine the struggle of their last breaths before they were taken forever. Imagine them being washed up by the sea at the shore itself. How would you have felt? Imagine how a father would have felt to see his three-year-old like this? Hosseini leaves the grave questions for the mighty powers of the world to ponder through his short work of fiction!

Pakistan’s unique geostrategic location at the crossroads of East, South, West, and Central Asia enables it to function as the “Zipper of Eurasia”, as I wrote over half a decade ago in September 2015 for the Russian Institute of Strategic Studies. I built upon this observation in March 2019 to declare that the creative leveraging of the unprecedented trans-regional connectivity potential offered by CPEC enables Pakistan to become the Global Pivot State. This ambitious vision is finally beginning to take shape after Prime Minister Imran Khan and the Uzbekistani Minister of Transport agreed to pursue a trans-Afghan railway line on Wednesday. I previously proposed such a corridor in my April 2019 debut analysis for CGTN about how “CPEC+ Is The Key To Achieving Regional Integration Goals”, which described the northern branch of CPEC through Afghanistan into Central Asia as N-CPEC+ (“N” referring to North). Eventually, this corridor could expand as far northwards as Russia to create a new North-South integration axis across Eurasia which aligns with President Putin’s vision for the Greater Eurasian Partnership (GEP) like I explained in an academic article that I co-authored over the summer that was republished by the prestigious Russian International Affairs Council (RIAC). As Pakistan begins to take on a more prominent role in trans-Eurasian integration processes, its strategic importance to both China and Russia will continue to rise. Both Great Powers have a shared interest in the South Asian state fulfilling its destiny to unite the supercontinent through CPEC+. It’s only through this connectivity paradigm that a true Convergence of Civilisations can occur, like I explained in an analysis for CGTN in May 2019. The outcome of Eurasia’s diverse civilisations cooperating on trade and other forms of integration could powerfully discredit Huntington’s infamous prediction about a coming “Clash of Civilisations”. Russian, Chinese, and Pakistani interests are all directly served through N-CPEC+. Moscow’s regional allies can become more internally stable as their economies grow upon securing access to the global markets that this corridor provides through the Indian Ocean, as could Russia’s resource-rich Siberian region. Beijing, meanwhile, will see its Pakistani-based CPEC investments put to use as a springboard for trans-continental integration processes and could also secure contracts to construct parts of its northern branch expansion as well. As for Islamabad, it would financially benefit by having its ports facilitate Central Asian trade with the wider world. N-CPEC+ is therefore more than just a connectivity corridor, it’s a grand strategic concept for the future of intra-Eurasian relations in the emerging Multipolar World Order. Russia, China, and Pakistan are coming closer together as each country realises that they need the others in order to fulfill their shared vision of stability in the supercontinent. In fact, continued movement in this direction might even lead to the creation of a new multipolar trilateral between them to replace the stalled one between Russia-India-China (RIC). The end result could be that a Golden Ring rises between them, Iran, Turkey, and Azerbaijan in the Heartland of Eurasia. To be clear, this won’t happen overnight, but the progress that was just made on agreeing to the Peshawar-Kabul-Mazar-e-Sharif trans-Afghan railway shows that the political will is certainly present to take this vision to its ultimate conclusion with time. Some formidable obstacles still remain, however, such as the unresolved conflict in Afghanistan and the efforts of external powers like India to sabotage this vision. There are also obvious questions of financing and other issues related to project implementation, as well as identifying which companies in the region and beyond are most eager to immediately tap into this project upon its completion. Nevertheless, there are plenty of reasons to remain optimistic, especially since it’s becoming undeniable that Russia and China both appreciate the strategic significance of Pakistan’s N-CPEC+ initiative to their GEP and Belt & Road Initiative (BRI) respectively. In fact, as GEP and BRI continue to synergise their connectivity capabilities, their patron states are realising that N-CPEC+ is indispensable to the success of their joint vision for the supercontinent. This understanding is accelerating trilateral integration between them and therefore leading to one of the most exciting geopolitical developments of the 21st century thus far.