PESHAWAR: As a journalist one is supposed to be objective while reporting or analysing a happening. It was hard for me to be objective this time.

As I sat in my office watching breaking news on TV about attack on Army Public School and College on Warsak Road, I could not move.

I could not take courage to run to the spot like other reporters. I just kept sitting there, frozen. Later as the tragedy unfolded, is beyond words.

It is the third day of mourning, I still can’t think straight. Words don’t come easily to my mind.

As a journalist, I have reported about many terrorist attacks, interviewed the injured and families of the victims. Many had made me cry. But this time it is different. It is personal. Many of my former colleagues at Army Public School and College where I taught almost a decade ago have been killed. The students, who resembled my former students, have been massacred. How do I express what I feel? There is a strange feeling of helplessness. You are not family of the killed students and teachers and yet you feel closer to them than anyone else.

As media flashes images of the damaged school-building, I try to avoid watching it but cannot help myself trying to imagine the scene of how helpless and panicked the teachers and students, busy in the classrooms with their books and copies, would have felt when the terrorists entered.

The school, which I once went to teach, is neither going to be the same, nor my memories would be always pleasant now. The impressive building of Army Public School and College with lush green lawns is destroyed. The ever smiling clerk Shafique, always helping you with your documentation, leave application and salary slips, is no more.

The staffroom bursting with laughter and jokes during recess time is destroyed.

The robust and nerdy, students of all ages and capabilities, wearing blue uniforms and red ties who ran around in grounds during sports period are gone.

The auditorium where farewell and welcome parties, declamation contests and annual results were held was washed with blood of slain students.

It could be me. I used to take English class every morning in the school section. Ms Tahira Qazi, our head of English department, would always make sure to make me a class-teacher in every academic session.

How could one refuse as she would convince you so politely to take up a responsibility?

The confidence and encouragement that she gave me in my very first demonstration to grade nine, a class of naughty boys, on my very first job has kept me going in my professional life as journalist too.

Ms Tahira Qazi, a polite decent lady, is also no more. It is not only me who remember her politeness. There are others who remember her.

“All I remember is her politeness and her smile,” said my friend Fahim Wali when he was returning from the funeral of his very first teacher Tahira Qazi.

Tahira Qazi was daughter of Qazi Hayatullah , a lawyer of Mardan district, better known to many as one of the members of Khudai Khidmatgar or Red Shirt movement of Bacha Khan. Tahira Qazi started her teaching career at Presentation Convent School Risalpur in 70s. She used to teach English.

“I was just five years old and I can still remember how politely she treated me,” said Fahim Wali, who is now an accomplished lawyer. She was also one of the pioneers at Army Public School and Degree College.

She gave her life while serving as the principal of this educational institution after serving here for about 20 years.

Teachers including witty Sir Saeed, shy Sir Nawab and Shehnaz, who was always conscious about her diet lost their lives while on duty. It is difficult to forget their smiling faces. “I wish I could take a long leave from work and go on Umra,” that was what Shehnaz wished when she met a mutual friend few days ago.

One of the senior teachers of Army Public School and College, Shehnaz taught computer science. Unfortunately, her seventh grader son saw the entire horrific episode. She had plans for her teenage daughter. She wanted to see her become a doctor. So many lives destroyed and scarred forever.

Life is so unpredictable but why the end had to be so painful especially for those who were in prophetic profession of teaching. It is beyond my understanding. When one is hurt such questions do come to mind. Although there is no answer that could console one.

The Peshawar school attack has hurt everyone. However, those who have had some kind of personal association, either as a former student or teacher, and lived to see such a day feel dead inside. I know I do.

As I was mourning, a twitter message from my former student Bilal Orakzai consoled me.

He is also sad like me and many others, who have some association with the school. My former student taught me something.

He made me realise that there are hundreds of living and successful former students, who would keep their teachers alive in their hearts forever. Wherever they go they would take the good name of their teachers and institution.

“I am proud of being a student of the teachers who laid their lives for their children (students),” said Bilal. The shinning stars are gone but they have left behind a trail of sparkling stars. The journey of light will go on.

Published in Dawn, December 19th, 2014