I seem to remember it clearly; as if it were only yesterday. It was the fourth of January 2011, and for the three days since its much-awaited advent, the new year had managed to usher in a long-awaited bout of merriment for my family. A dear relative’s wedding festivities were about to start, and all of us were busily engrossed in the usual round of cumbersome pre-wedding clothing arrangements and shopping escapades; activities which always come across as abhorrent to me, on any day of the week. On this particular (and, in retrospect, ominous) day, I accompanied my mother to Lahore’s acclaimed (and notoriously inexpensive) Aunty Market; a site strategically suited to all manner of clothing vendors and jewellery merchants for luring in the bulk of excited urban-class girls and women towards their exquisitely crafted produce. The evening was about to set in, and while my mother industriously bargained with an adamant Pashtun salesman regarding the price of an embroidered length of chiffon, I munched nonchalantly on a packet of straight-out-of-the-oil french fries draped in ketchup; oblivious to the hustle and bustle of the busy marketplace. And then it happened. Suddenly, the lights went out, and all merriment ceased. The heart-rending sounds of police sirens and ambulances started to pervade through the air, as a flurry of wild panic and stark fear started to seep into our previously untroubled chests. Legions of Punjab police troopers started flooding into the arena, and the merchants vigorously (and with almost Bollywood-like proficiency) scrambled to close down their shops in a fluster; as if in compliance to an unspoken signal issued from these sentinels of the law. The people abandoned their transactions and started running in opposite directions; desperate to escape from whatever stroke of misfortune had caused this rude shift in the pace of ordinary Lahori life. We too followed suite, and after climbing into our crookedly parked green Santro, hurried home. My mother and I debated incessantly over the cause of this disturbing spectacle whilst we sped over the cavalry bridge and concluded with the possibility of another terrorist attack having occurred in the city proper. A sudden news bulletin on the radio was soon to resolve our confusion, however; and in the grimmest possible way. The governor of Punjab, Salman Taseer, had been shot to death in the Capital, at the hands of a member of his own protection squad. I received this news with abject horror and pain, and not because I had been any devout supporter of the said dignitary. Quite the contrary, I had never thought much about the Pakistan People’s Party government, its office-bearers, or their ill-conceived national policies. The nature of this clearly cold-blooded murder, however, was what grieved me; not only for its devastating implications for the innocent family of the ex-governor but also for its resounding consequences for the already beleaguered situation of law and order in the country. Now even senior government officials were not safe from the exploits of the fundamentalist religious fringe in our society; to say nothing of the ordinary people. And as if this particular tragedy were not enough (and perhaps in order to drive the message further home), another grave incident was soon to cross-paths with the slain governor’s family. On the 26th of August, only about seven months past the date of the murder, Mr. Taseer’s eldest son Shahbaz was unceremoniously abducted in the Gulberg area, whilst he was reportedly on his way to his office in the wee hours of the morning. Upon hearing of this latest chronicle from the ill-fated Taseer family saga, I felt my heart receding into the depths of depression. My mind was plagued by such demeaning questions as: Who could have possibly done this? And, How could someone’s hate for another extend to the other’s offspring; whatever the reasons being for such enmity to have arisen? I have always maintained a clear distinction between the true and pacific adherents of Islam (my cherished faith) and the terrorists who purport to pervert its beautiful doctrines through their radical political misinterpretations of its core humanitarian messaging. The whole drama reeked nothing but raw tragedy, and reality for once seemed stranger, and certainly far more harrowing, than fiction. Instantly, tributes started to flood in from all corners of the country, from those deemed religious and secular-minded alike; for the aggrieved family of the victims. Newspapers and social media sites teemed with eulogies and commemorations for the father-son duo, and TV talk-show programs and university campuses buzzed with debates which lamented over the increasing fundamentalization of Pakistani society and deliberated on the shocking series of unfortunate events which now seemed to transpire on a daily basis. During all this time, I marvelled at the profound grace exuded by the Taseer family in the face of these trials, and their blatant disregard for any rhetoric which bespoke of a desire for seeking personal vengeance; a course of action which many people might be tempted to resort to, under similarly trying circumstances. I was struck with great admiration for the brave governor’s equally-tough wife (and the kidnapped youth’s mother), and her remarkable resilience in bearing the brunt of the tragedy’s emotional impact on the entire family. I applauded for the missing Taseer’s newly-wed bride, and her solemn commitment to her largely fate-stricken marriage; a heartening love-affair to which her public twitter account still bears vivid testimony. Equally mesmerizing was the determination exhibited by Mr. Taseer’s other children, towards the causes of liberty and minorities-protection once defiantly championed by their cruelly snatched father, and kidnapped brother. The news of the rediscovery, and return, of Shahbaz Taseer, greatly adds to the sense of joy and celebration which has infectiously gripped Pakistan these last few days; with Ms.Chinoy having had won her second Oscar (a national achievement), and Ms. Mavalvala having played an instrumental role in detecting Einstein’s gravitational waves, amongst other things. I earnestly hope that the Taseer family is now given some respite from the mind-numbing ordeal that they had to go through these past 5 years, and are given the opportunity to revel in each other’s company as a family once again. I pray for all such victims of kidnapping and long for their speedy reunion with their families. The pain and desperation experienced by such families are truly unimaginable; a tale of sorrows one would not wish for one’s bitterest enemies. The writer is a blogger, poet, culture critic and non-conformist