A rooftop conversation at the Eyrie about childhood dreams, diplomatic goodwill, and the human ties that can bring Pakistan and America closer
Some dreams begin with grand declarations. Mine began with a glass of water.
It was a quiet evening on the rooftop of my small studio apartment, the Eyrie, in F-10 Markaz, Islamabad. Beyond the west-facing window, the Margalla Hills were settling into the fading light. BāBā-Tāl, my wandering dervish and occasional companion over a cup of tea, sat across from me. Tall, thin, and sharp-eyed, he wore his familiar navy-blue robe adorned with brass bells, torn blue jeans with threads showing at the knees, and joggers. His distinctive beard and moustache framed a face that could be playful one moment and profoundly wise the next. When he whispered, his bells seemed to join the conversation.
I had been reading the news. Ms. Natalie A. Baker had been appointed permanent Chargé d’Affaires at the U.S. Embassy in Islamabad.
BāBā-Tāl watched me over his cup. A gentle smile appeared on his face.
“Bacha!” he said. “You seem a little excited about the American representative in Islamabad—the one from the land of your childhood dreams.”
He had seen through me. The news had touched a place in my heart far older than the morning’s headlines.
My first glimpse of America came many decades ago in Shikarpur, Sindh. I was a Class Five student at Islamia High School, near Ghanta Ghar. One ordinary afternoon, our postman knocked at the door. He handed me a postcard and an envelope, then politely asked for a glass of water.
I carried the mail to my mother and hurried back with a cold glass. The postman drank, thanked me in Sindhi—
“Lakhh Qurban!”—
and reached into his shoulder bag. He took out a colourful magazine, removed its address wrapper, and placed it in my hands.
A small kindness had opened a window.
The magazine was *Panorama*, a monthly publication of the U.S. Embassy in Pakistan. Sometimes, the postman brought *Serbeen*, its Urdu-language edition. To a schoolboy in Shikarpur, those pages were more than paper and ink. They offered a glimpse of a distant world: wide skies, towering cities, unfamiliar streets—and a beautiful woman holding a torch.
The Statue of Liberty found its way into my imagination through those magazines. America became a place I had not seen, yet somehow felt I knew.
Years passed. Then, one evening, I stood on a quiet street in New Jersey, visiting my friend Farooque Shah. The sky was dark. At the far end of the street, a light shone through the night. I walked towards it and realised whom I was looking at.
Miss Liberty!
There she stood, illuminated against the darkness. The image that had once lived in the pages of a magazine now stood before me in the real world. A boyhood dream had travelled across oceans and found its moment.
I have carried that moment with me ever since. It connects me to Queens, New York, and to the generous spirit of the diaspora community that welcomed so many of us. But it also reminds me how a country can first enter a person’s life—not through a speech, a policy, or a diplomatic communiqué, but through a story, a picture, a friendship, or a simple act of kindness.
Perhaps that is the first lesson of diplomacy that I learnt without knowing the word for it: nations may have governments, embassies, interests, and agreements, but their lasting relationships are ultimately carried by human beings.
MY CONGRATULATIONS TO MS. NATALIE A. BAKER
With the news of Ms. Natalie A. Baker’s appointment as permanent Chargé d’Affaires, I extend my sincere congratulations and respectful good wishes to her. This is an important diplomatic responsibility, and I hope her tenure will bring fresh opportunities for constructive engagement, mutual understanding, and enduring goodwill between the United States and Pakistan.
Diplomacy is not an easy assignment. It requires patience when positions differ, wisdom when expectations are high, and the ability to recognise common ground without disregarding the legitimate interests of either nation. A diplomat’s work extends beyond formal meetings and official statements; it also lies in creating opportunities for people to understand one another more honestly and more deeply.
Ms. Baker’s diplomatic experience includes assignments in several countries and her earlier service in Pakistan. Her return to a leading role at the U.S. Embassy in Islamabad offers an occasion to renew our hopes for meaningful engagement between our two countries.
My message to her is therefore both personal and national in spirit: may her tenure help transform diplomatic goodwill into opportunities that ordinary people can feel in their daily lives.
May Pakistani students find more doors open to education, research, and cultural exchange in the United States. May American students discover Pakistan not merely through headlines, but through its universities, history, literature, hospitality, and extraordinary human diversity. May our young people meet as classmates, researchers, innovators, and friends, discovering that the person across the table may have different experiences but share many of the same hopes.
Education is not a ceremonial addition to international relations. It is an investment in the people who will shape those relations tomorrow.
FROM CHILDHOOD DREAMS TO A SHARED FUTURE
Only recently, I wrote an opinion piece about U.S.–Pakistan cooperation in processing precious minerals in Pakistan. Such cooperation could create substantial opportunities if pursued through transparent agreements, responsible investment, technology transfer, skills development, and benefits for the Pakistani people.
Economic cooperation matters. Trade matters. Investment matters. But no partnership can reach its full potential if its people remain strangers to one another.
A mineral agreement may establish a commercial relationship; educational exchange can help build a human one. Investment can create jobs; the exchange of knowledge can prepare young people to create opportunities of their own. Diplomatic dialogue can resolve immediate differences; sustained people-to-people contact can help prevent tomorrow’s misunderstandings.
These are not competing priorities. They are complementary bridges.
Pakistan and the United States have their own histories, interests, and perspectives. A mature relationship does not require either nation to abandon its identity or agree with the other on every issue. It requires respect, honest dialogue, and a willingness to pursue areas of mutual benefit while addressing differences responsibly.
That is the kind of friendship I hope to see grow: neither built on unrealistic promises nor confined to official photographs, but strengthened by practical cooperation and genuine human contact.
The Holy Qur’an reminds humanity:
“O mankind, indeed We have created you from male and female and made you peoples and tribes that you may know one another.”
— Surah Al-Hujurat, 49:13
The verse speaks to a profound human truth: our differences need not become barriers to understanding. They can become invitations to learn.
And the Holy Prophet Muhammad [Peace and blessings be upon him] taught the importance of kindness in human dealings. Sahih Muslim records:
“Allah is kind and He loves kindness.”
— Sahih Muslim, Hadith 2593
That principle reaches far beyond the walls of a home. It can inform the conduct of individuals, institutions, and nations alike. Kindness does not replace diplomacy, just as goodwill does not eliminate difficult questions. Rather, both can create the atmosphere in which difficult questions are addressed with dignity.
I am reminded of the words commonly attributed to Ralph Waldo Emerson: “The only way to have a friend is to be one.”
A simple thought, yet a demanding one. Friendship between nations cannot be expected from one side alone. It grows when both sides listen, contribute, respect, and act in good faith.
**A BRIDGE FROM MANHATTAN TO ISLAMABAD**
So, Ms. Baker, as I offer my congratulations, I also offer a personal hope.
May the relationship between Manhattan and Islamabad, between streets and avenues of New York and the gates and streets of Shikarpur where my childhood began, become more than a geographical connection. May it be enriched by exchanges of knowledge, literature, culture, innovation, and shared experience.
May our libraries become meeting places for ideas. May our universities become gateways to discovery. May young Pakistanis have opportunities to learn in American classrooms, and may American students have meaningful opportunities to experience Pakistan beyond the familiar boundaries of news reports and assumptions.
May our writers read one another. May our teachers share their experiences. May our researchers work together. May our entrepreneurs discover mutually beneficial opportunities. And may our ordinary citizens find reasons to see one another not as distant representatives of two different countries, but as fellow human beings with families, aspirations, anxieties, and dreams.
I do not suggest that a magazine can solve every diplomatic challenge. Nor can a glass of water substitute for serious negotiations. But both can remind us where the human story begins: with an act of generosity, a moment of curiosity, and the willingness to extend a hand.
Sometimes, the smallest gesture becomes the first chapter of a much larger story.
WHERE TEARS BECOME POETRY, AND POETRY BECOMES TEARS
Somewhere between the memory of that schoolboy and the man who now writes from a rooftop in Islamabad, I find a few lines that belong to the heart of this message:
A glass of water opened the door,
A magazine taught my young heart to soar,
Across the seas, old dreams arise,
Where poetry becomes tears, and tears become poetry.
— QUATRAIN — Coined by S. T. Hejazi
BāBā-Tāl had remained quiet throughout my reflections. He lifted his mug, took the last sip of tea, and placed it carefully on the table. His brass bells chimed softly as he leaned towards me.
“Bacha!” he whispered, his deep eyes holding that familiar mixture of affection and wisdom. “Never underestimate a small kindness. You offered a glass of water. The postman gave you a magazine. And the magazine gave you a dream that travelled farther than either of you could have imagined.”
I smiled.
He was right. The postman had not delivered a diplomatic agreement. He had delivered the mail. Yet, in that ordinary exchange, a young mind encountered another country and began imagining a world beyond its immediate horizon.
Perhaps that is where stronger ties between two nations can begin—not always with grand declarations, but with a glass of water, an open page, a generous spirit, and a young person encouraged to dream.
A FINAL MESSAGE TO MS. NATALIE A. BAKER
Dear Ms. Baker, please accept my heartfelt congratulations and best wishes as you undertake your responsibilities as permanent Chargé d’Affaires at the U.S. Embassy in Islamabad.
May your tenure contribute to a relationship between Pakistan and the United States that is constructive in its diplomacy, fair in its economic cooperation, generous in its educational opportunities, and enduring in its human connections.
May the young people of both countries inherit more opportunities for learning than reasons for mistrust. May they find doors open where previous generations encountered walls. And may the friendship between our nations be measured not only by the agreements our governments sign, but also by the lives those agreements improve and the understanding our people build.
I began this story as a schoolboy in Shikarpur, carrying a glass of water to a thirsty postman. I continue it today as a Pakistani writer, hoping that the next generation will carry the story farther.
The bridge between nations is never completed in a single day. It is built, little by little, through goodwill, responsibility, respect, and shared dreams.
May you help strengthen that bridge, Ms. Baker.
And may it carry our young people towards a future in which Pakistan and America know one another not merely through diplomacy, but through genuine human friendship.
With sincere congratulations and respectful good wishes,