The 12th of November 2025 was the Centenary Year of my alma matter Military College Jhelum (MCJ). Visiting my alma matter after years transported me back to a time when life was simpler, and the world was full of endless possibilities. The classrooms, hostels, other buildings stood tall, but they seemed to hold a million memories within their walls, waiting to embrace anyone who returned.
As I stepped into the familiar classrooms, the floodgates of nostalgia opened wide. The air seemed to reverberate with the echoes of past laughter and the careless chatter of inquisitive young minds, each memory clinging to the walls with a delicate touch. Those very spaces bore witness to the innocent joys that once pointed our days in vibrant hue, and I couldn’t help but smile at the whimsical dance of yester years.
The playground was where we laughed, fought, and picked ourselves time and time again, embracing the lessons of resilience, and teamwork. It felt like a sacred arena of camaraderie, where friendships were forged like unbreakable bonds, and dream took flight like fearless birds.
Every step I took, transported me back to a time when bruised knees and inquiring eyes were medals of honour, for they symbolised the undated pursuit of joy and adventure. It was there, amidst the carefree laughter and spirited games, that we discovered the strength to rise after every fall and the wisdom of knowing that, together, we could conquer anything. It was here, in the boxing ring after being knocked out that I learned the lesson; to rise again and compete again.
The Musa Hall, once filled with eager face of cadets, now appeared serene and quiet.
As I stood there, all by myself, a wave of nostalgia washed over me, and it was as if time had momentarily reversed. I could hear the echoes of heartfelt morning prayers resonating within those walls, and the soaring notes of our national anthem that once united us as one spirited family.
I can’t help but smile at the thought of those boy scout camping nights in Murree, sitting around the bonfire, sharing stories and laughter that warmed our hearts
Outside the Academic Block, the quote from Quaid-e-Azam Muhammad Ali Jinnah could be seen from far away, expressing the aspiration:
“God has given us a grand opportunity to show our worth as architects of a new state and let it not be said that we did not prove equal to the task!”
As I stood, it reminded me of the visionary leader who laid the foundation of Pakistan. His principles of unity, faith and discipline continue to inspire me. Let’s pledge to uphold his legacy by building a stronger, progressive, and united nation.
The memories seemed to dance around, playfully teasing my senses, reminding me of the camaraderie and sense of belonging that filled every corner of that cherished place.
And the classroom! a magical treasure trove of knowledge that sparked the embers of my imagination and nourished my insatiable curiosity. The lectures stood witness to countless dreams soaring on the wings of words, and just reminiscing about it brought a wide smile to my face.
Those precious moments and evening prep classes instilled in me a lifelong love for reading and journaling, nurturing a thirst for knowledge that continues to guide me today. The classrooms weren’t just rooms; they were gateways to endless possibilities and a safe haven for young minds to explore, dream and grow.
As I strolled through the familiar roads of my beloved alma matter, a wave of nostalgia washed over me. But what truly caught me off guard was the sight of rows of plants, flowers and trees. Gone were the days of only one or two types of flowers and trees that had etched its place in my heart, replaced by something more colourful beds of flowers and tall nicely trimmed trees. They say change is the only constant in life, but seeing this change made me realise how quickly time had flown. It felt like a cherished piece of my alma matter had embarked on an unexpected journey of its own. I couldn’t help but smile at the flood of past memories that came rushing back, reminiscing the co-ordinated sea of thoughts with youthful vibrancy. Oh! those were the days! I sighed.
Back in my institution, I was an enthusiastic participant in debate and declamation contests, and journaling. And oh! honing my skills in mastering intricate knots in academia and music. Every activity was a delightful blend of learning and fun. I can’t help but smile at the thought of those boy scout camping nights in Murree, sitting around the bonfire, sharing stories and laughter that warmed our hearts.
Close by was the Upper Jhelum Canal. It still flowed silently but gracefully as before. We would occasionally go out boating and enjoyed every bit of it. The upstream effort was daunting as we would row upstream. As I stood there a mere spectator of my past self. I couldn’t help but marvel at the metaphors that time had wrought upon us all. Yet, despite the transformation, the spirit of unity and the essence of those formative years remained etched in my mind. It was a reminder that no matter how far we may wander or how much life may change, the bonds we forged in those precious moments will forever anchor us to the heart of our shared journey.
In the realm of cherished memories there was one extraordinary moment that etched itself deeply in my heart – reuniting some of beloved teachers.
Although none of them are alive today, to hear them call my name after almost six whole decades was nothing short of a proud and profound moment. Professors like Saeed Rashid, Ainuddin Alvi, Shafiq; and many more. And above all my late dear father Major Manzur ul Hassan who taught us English and much more that makes us outstanding human beings. It felt like a beautiful symphony, connecting the past to the present, and I couldn’t help be overwhelmed with gratitude. Our teachers’ impact endured like an everlasting beam, guiding through life’s journey. Oh, how I longed to meet them that shaped us into the best versions of ourselves. Expressing my heartfelt gratitude for their dedication and selflessness was a wish that echoed within. But alas, time has a way of slipping through our hands, and life’s current pulls us forward with its own rhythm.
Our life’s journey is nothing short of an enthralling story, and the cherished chapters imprint themselves most profoundly our minds are undoubtedly the ones we lived within those hallowed alma matter walls.
The countless memories we built, the laughter that echoed through the corridors and hostel rooms, and the invaluable life lessons imparted by our dear teachers, all stand as precious gems in the tapestry of time.
As the sun set in the evening and I took a last look at my alma matter I said to myself: “Let’s celebrate the profound impact our alma mater had on us. Let’s hold these memories close, like the brightest star – the north pole - guiding us through the night. Let’s pray for the unsung departed heroes, our teachers who patiently nurtured our dreams and shaped us into the individuals we are today.”
Though I bid adieu for now, the spirit of my alma mater shall forever reside within me, igniting the flows of curiosity, resilience, compassion and sacrifice in every step I take. It’s legacy is the foundation on which my dreams take flight!