I wish I could say, “We didn’t see it coming.” But that would be a lie. We saw it coming, but chose to ignore all the warnings until it was too late to prevent our children from being murdered before our very eyes.

Peshawar, my ancestral city, is dying a slow death at the hands of religious fundamentalists. Slowly, but surely, the City fell to mullahs, madrassahs, and militants.

It all started rather inconspicuously in December 1974, when a bomb explosion injured two at the American Centre in Peshawar. Many did not think much of it. However, dozens of bomb blasts and thousands of civilian deaths later, it became obvious who the enemy was.

Still, not much was done against those who murdered civilians in cold blood. The perpetrators were ‘strategic depth’ and hence were assets for wars to be fought in the future.

Peshawar unknowingly became the nerve centre in a war between two superpowers. The Americans, supported by the West and bankrolled by the Saudis, turned Peshawar into a dormitory for Arab and Pakhtun militants who were brainwashed and trained in warfare in camps scattered in and around the city. Peshawar’s affluent suburbs became home for western spies and affluent Arab militants.

The Peshawaris became refugees in their own city.

The City was changing right before our eyes.

Overnight, the entire urban transportation fleet transformed in Peshawar. Mercedes buses from Afghanistan replaced wagons and other paratransit. Local restaurants were pushed out of business by the new Afghan eateries. Pants and shirts were replaced by beards and skullcaps. A city known for its sense of humour was giving way to fear and hate.

I used to ride a bus from the walled City to the Peshawar University. The bus passed through the fabled Qissa Khawani Bazaar en route to Saddar. After a brief stop near the stadium, it would continue towards the University Town. The bus driver would play Pushto songs. No one seemed bothered by the driver’s taste in music. But that all changed when Arabs and spies took over the City.