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The morning of 16th December 2014 was a usual chilly morning in December. I woke up, got ready and left for school. I don’t know if I should call it intuition or a sign from Allah that on the way to school, my father warned me about the security threats in Peshawar and advised me to stay alert of my surroundings. The first two classes went on as usual. We had Sir Nawab Ali (Shaheed) for Maths in our second period. Little did we know that it was our last class with our teacher.
During the 3rd period, we were asked to attend a lecture on first aid arranged by Army Medics. The lecture started, my class fellows and I were seated in the main auditorium. After a while, the lecture was interrupted by the sound of gunshots at the back side of the auditorium.
Call it quick reflexes but one of my friends who was a local, somehow immediately understood what was about to happen. I didn’t believe him because I had heard about terrorist attacks in mosques, markets, police academy etc. but the attack on a school where specifically children would be targeted was beyond my imagination. I was still trying to wrap my head around the situation when an awkward-looking man bearing guns broke in from the back door of the auditorium and randomly started firing all over the hall.
My friend pulled me down to the floor and we desperately tried to find some cover. The only thing that was shielding us from death was the chairs. We soon realized that there was not just one terrorist rather he was accompanied by more of them. They kept firing heinously for about 10 or 15 minutes, first randomly and then row-wise. The sound of gunshots, the panic-stricken screaming and the smell of gunpowder was mind-numbing.
I was lying on the floor totally frozen when I heard one of the terrorist headings towards my row. Chills ran up and down my spine. Unlike the movies where they show your life flashing before your eyes in a sequence when you’re facing death, my head was filled with the most random thoughts. I was shot three times. He stopped just short of me and stepped on my feet. I tried to act dead but the pain of the bullet wounds was unbearable. Screaming was not an option because he would have finished me and my friend in a heartbeat. I bit my hand as hard as I could overcome the pain.
This might sound stupid but my mind was still in denial. I was reciting Ayat al Kursi but I couldn’t accept that it was a terrorist attack. I kept telling myself that it must be some kind of drill to go with the first aid lecture.
After they left the auditorium, there was complete silence, smoke and smell of gunpowder in the room. One of our teachers found the courage to break the silence by saying that those who can walk can go to the other side of the building, opposite to where the terrorists were headed. Despite being shot and all the excruciating pain, I somehow managed to stand up.
As I got up all I could see was blood, body parts, dead bodies of school fellows and my teachers. I saw one of my juniors who used to sit adjacent to me in the term exams and asked me for help. He was shot in the head. His eyes were wide open, face covered in blood. This was the breaking moment for me. I felt completely helpless and weak.
We made it to the other side of the building on pure adrenaline and hid in a classroom. There were many others who were wounded. Pain, crying, and the fear of death encompassed the room. With the help of some fellows, I quietly sat at one corner of the class. My mind was full of thousand thoughts. Thinking about what my parents would do if I get killed today was the most painful. How would they take it? How would my family identify my body if a terrorist comes in and blows himself up? For this seemingly stupid reason, I covered my face.
By this time the armed forces had initiated their rescue and clearance operation to evacuate the injured and the survivors. We could hear a continuous exchange of fire during all this. Fortunately, I was evacuated, among many others, out of the school by our brave soldiers and was put into the ambulance to be taken to the Lady Reading Hospital. On the way, I called my parents to inform them that I was alive.
The scenes at the hospital were more painful and heart-wrenching. Mothers, sisters were crying and screaming. Fathers were frantically searching for their sons in the dead bodies, fearing that every cover they take off might break their world into a million pieces. Amongst all the chaos, there were people who were just there to help. Some were offering food and drinks, some were offering their phones for calling and some of them were concerned patients from other wards.
I was shifted to the Combined Miltary Hospital where I received a call from my friend. Alhamdulillah, he was safe at home. He told me about all the teachers and class fellows that we had lost. The grief and helplessness I felt are beyond words.
A few hours later, I was told that COAS Raheel Sharif was about to meet us. Meeting him was an honor and helped boost my morale. The next day I had a successful operation and I was kept in hospital for about a month. During this time a lot of people came to see me; students of different universities and schools, Army officers, and politicians etc. This helped a lot to recover from the trauma.
The national and international support after the attack was overwhelming. My parents and I, along with other families were sent to Saudi Arabia for Umrah by Pakistan Army. Nothing helped more than this as I felt healed after coming back from there. I’ll forever be utterly grateful to our ex COAS for this initiative.
The support of Islamic countries in these trying times was exemplary. I and group of other students were hosted by The Royal Army of Oman in Muscat as per the orders of their Sultan. It was a delightful experience and a great distraction and time out from the grim environment back home.
At the start of 2016, Javed Afridi, the owner of Peshawar Zalmi, arranged a trip to Dubai for us for the Pakistan Super League. It was a wonderful experience. For the first time, I witnessed a live match in the stadium. We met several famous players like Wahab Riaz, Muhammad Hafeez, Daren Sammy, Dawid Milan.
3 years have passed and my father has been posted to another station. The pain and loss of my friends and teachers are hard to recover from, but global love and support have helped a lot. One thing that I learned from this whole experience is that what doesn’t kill you does indeed make you stronger. Terrorist activities have noticeably decreased in Pakistan due to the efforts and sacrifices of Pakistan Army and also because we as a nation have become stronger, like diamonds; the deeper our cuts, the brighter we shine and stronger we become.
