First Eid without them

KARACHI: While many homes will be filled with the sweet aroma of seviyan, kheer, and other festive delights this Eid, there are some houses where silence will echo louder than any celebration. Amidst the joyous laughter and family gatherings, there will be mothers sitting quietly, holding onto memories of children they lost too soon. This will be their first Eid without them.

Every passing year leaves behind memories – some sweet, others too painful to bear. But the first few months of this year have brought unimaginable sorrow to several families in Karachi. As the city continues to grapple with street crime, robberies, road tragedies and organized crime, a more heart-wrenching reality has emerged – the increasing cases of kidnappings. And in these three months, it is the mothers who have suffered the most, losing their precious children to an unkind and merciless world.

One such case is that of 23-year-old Mustafa Amir. His disappearance shook the city and captured headlines. The intensity of public outcry led to the swift arrest of the suspects, and investigations are ongoing. But for Mustafa’s mother, no amount of justice can fill the void left by his absence. This Eid, while others embrace their loved ones, she will stand by his empty bed, whispering prayers and hoping for a miracle that will never come. Mustafa Amir’s family was not a large one. He was not their only son, but he was certainly their most beloved. His younger brother, now 21 years old, was especially close to him. Eid for their family was always a simple but cherished affair. They would start the day with Eid prayers, visit their grandmother’s house, and then pay their respects at the graves of their loved ones. Last year, Mustafa stood by those graves offering prayers; this year, it will be others who visit his grave, laying flowers and whispering prayers in his memory. “Mustafa was my favourite,” says Wajiha Amir, her voice heavy with sorrow. “He was obedient to a fault. I always picked out his Eid clothes, and he wore whatever I chose for him.” She recalls how their Eid routine was much like that of any Karachi household – staying up on Chaand Raat, offering Eid prayers at dawn, visiting the cemetery, and then sleeping the day away.

“How could I have known that the child who once prayed at his loved ones’ graves would soon be the one we mourn?” she laments. For Wajiha, the absence of her son has shattered every semblance of normalcy. “We used to go as a family to watch a movie on Eid,” she recalls. “It was the one entertainment we all enjoyed together, and now, even that joy is gone.”

Another devastating case is that of Sarim, a young boy kidnapped on January 7. The tragedy only deepened when, after days of frantic searching, his lifeless body was discovered in a water tank. The case initially garnered significant media attention, prompting police action and the detention of several suspects. Yet, despite extensive investigations, including DNA profiling and formal inquiries, Sarim’s killer remains at large. “My son left home laughing and playing, and came back lifeless. How is it fair?” his mother cries, her voice trembling with anguish. “Our entire lives ended the day Sarim was taken from us.” For her, the pain is compounded by the unanswered questions – why did this happen, who was responsible, and when will justice be served? “Not a moment passes without us reliving his loss,” she says. “The questions haunt us, and until they are answered, we will never know peace.”

In a small effort to advance the investigation, a four-member board of senior doctors and professors has been formed to review Sarim’s post-mortem findings. The board has already held its first meeting at the Police Surgeon Office in Karachi, but for the grieving families, every day without answers is another day of agony.

The nightmare continues for the families of five-year-old Aliyan and six-year-old Ali Raza, who vanished from Karachi’s Garden area on January 16. More than two and a half months later, there is still no trace of them. Their parents remain trapped in a heart-wrenching limbo, unsure whether their children are alive or dead. “Just tell us if our children are alive,” pleads Aliyan’s mother, her voice breaking with despair. “Eid? What Eid? Our happiness ended the day our children disappeared.”

The families continue to protest, demanding the safe return of their children, while the police insist they are doing everything they can. Yet, much like in Sarim’s case, the trail has gone cold. As the world moves forward, laughing and rejoicing, these mothers remain frozen in their grief. This Eid, while many exchange gifts and sweets, these mothers will offer prayers and tears. And as the crescent moon rises, illuminating the night sky, it will also cast light on the empty spaces in their hearts – spaces that no celebration can ever fill.