12/08/2026
*The First Film I Ever Saw*
Take me back.
I was five, maybe six.
We lived in a tiny neighborhood near Gujranwala Railway Station. Krishan Nagar, I think it was called.
My whole world was the sound of freight trains passing by. All day I’d sit and count their carriages, proud of my brand-new numbers.
It was a winter night. The kind where children are tucked into quilts before Maghrib (sunset prayer).
But that night, I heard my parents whispering to the servant:
_"If they wake up, keep them busy. We’re going to the cinema."_
I didn’t wait for a second invitation.
I shot up, grabbed my coat, and announced, "I’m coming too."
And just like that, the plan changed.
Now the servant was left to handle Haji Pasha and my little sister. And I… I was going to the movies.
I remember almost nothing of that night.
Except one scene.
Not because I understood it.
But because the entire hall erupted.
The film was _Sarfrosh_.
Sabiha lay sleeping. Santosh Kumar climbed in through her window.
And then, as if on cue, the Fajr Azan began.
He stopped.
He took off his shawl, laid it on the floor, and prayed.
She woke to the sound of the Azan and found a stranger in prayer in her room.
"Who are you? Why are you here?" she asked.
"I’m a thief," he said. "I came to steal."
Her eyes widened. "But… you’re praying."
And then came the line. The line that shook the hall.
*"Theft is my profession. Prayer is my duty."*
Applause. Whistles. A roar.
I was too young to understand.
Years later, I did.
That wasn’t heroism. That was hypocrisy dressed as devotion.
And yet, the crowd was on its feet, cheering.
A friend asked on his wall: _What’s the first movie you remember watching?_
So I told him mine.
Not because it was a good film.
*But because some memories are not about the story. They are about what the story revealed about us.*
