The year was 1965. I had returned a day earlier from Quetta to resume classes at college, which were starting from September 6. I was a second year pre-medical student a F.C. College in Lahore and used to live with my uncle in Model Town as my parents and family were in Quetta.

On the morning of September 6, I reached the college campus before 6.30 am, as this was the time when classes started. As I walked from the bus stop on Ferozepur Road to my class in the college’s Physics Building, I noticed that the campus was practically deserted. I stopped and asked a mali (gardener) working in a flower bed. He looked up, gave me a surprised stare and said in Punjabi, “Don’t you know? India has attacked Pakistan, war has been declared and the college is closed.”

I was shaken. This was really unexpected. I plodded back to the bus stop and boarded the only bus going back to Model Town. The bus was stopped in the middle of the road near Walton. All the passengers were asked to quickly disembark and hide in a dry nallah (drain) running along the road. An eerie siren sounded close by. Soon, there was a roar of jet fighters as they flew over our heads. We were informed that these were Indian planes that wanted to bomb the runway at Walton Airport. Why they didn’t do so is anybody’s guess. After a while, we were allowed to board the bus again and head for Model Town.

When I reached my uncle’s house, I was asked to join in digging a trench in his front lawn. It was inside the trench that I heard General Ayub Khan’s now famous speech on the radio. It further boosted our morale and our patriotism against enemy India rose sky-high. Gen. Ayub was President of Pakistan and commander-in-chief of the army.

When I learned that day that the army needed blood, I rushed to the closest blood donation camp but was turned away because they said I was too thin and not fit for blood donation.

This was a great unifying time for the nation. The people’s spirits were very high and were further propped up by national songs. Noor Jehan was well-known but Mehdi Hasan was a new discovery.

There were popular numbers, like “Aey Khitta e Lahore,” and “Apni Jaan Nazar Karoon” by Mehdi Hasan and “Aey Watan Key Sajeelay Jawano,” and “Yeh Puttar Hattan Tey Naheen Wik De,” by Noor Jehan. These and other songs infused a certain pep and verve in the people that had not been seen before.

It was in the war days that I came to learn what a ‘black-out’ was and how one survived in blackouts.

Since college was closed and I did not have much to do, my uncle took me to Gulab Devi Hospital where they were receiving injured soldiers from the war front. Along with many other students, I was required to read letters from their families and write replies - in Urdu. I met a jawan who was completely burnt and only his eyes were visible. A grenade had hit his trench with diesel oil all around while he was on duty. The oil had quickly caught fire and he could not escape the flames.

Another young man, barely 18, had his left foot chopped off in a hand-to-hand fight. He had been newly recruited. So massive was the spirit of these and other soldiers that they wanted to be returned to the front as soon as possible.

One voice that stood out on the radio was that of the newsreader Shakeel Ahmed. TV transmissions had begun the previous year but there were not many people who owned TV sets. It appeared Shakeel Ahmed took immense pleasure in telling listeners that PAF bombers had struck Indian targets in Halwara, Pathankot, Adampur and Jaisalmer perfectly - ‘theek, theek nishanon par lagay.’ Little did I know then that the first PAF pilot to drop bombs on Indian territory was no other than my chacha, Sqn. Ldr. (then) Saeed Akhtar Ansari, who flew B-57 bombers. He retired later as an Air Vice Marshal.

The love for Pakistani forces in those times was huge and simply touching. During the war days, I remember strolling through Anarkali Bazaar. An army jeep passed by, carrying officers and soldiers. They were stopped and surrounded by a joyous crowd which showered on them all sorts of eatables - lassi, cold drinks, mithai and what not - and shouted patriotic slogans.

One afternoon, we heard sounds of jets zooming around. From the rooftops we found that there were a number of planes in the distance that were circling the sky. They seemed to be chasing each other. In a moment we realized that this was a dogfight going on between Pakistani and Indian planes. After about 10 minutes of different maneuvers, one plane broke off and headed towards the east, while it seemed another plane chased it. Why did this low-level skirmish take place over a populated area? The Indians probably wanted to bomb Lahore and the Pakistanis countered them.

After the war ended, my uncle with whom I lived, and some of his friends, travelled to see the war-hit areas around Lahore; I tagged along. We visited the trench next to the BRB Canal where Maj. Aziz Bhatti had laid down his life after valiantly fighting the Indians. He won the Nishan-e-Haider for his bravery. Then we went to the Chawinda battlefield near Sialkot. Here the world’s biggest tank battle after the 2nd World War had taken place. There were damaged Pakistani and Indian tanks lying around. There were also lots of vultures in the area. We were taken to a spot on a hill overlooking the Indian border. Here an Indian spy was said to have been found, signaling to the Indian forces. Next, we went to a village near Pasrur where an Indian Gnat had been downed. The jet, painted all-black, was still on the ground.

A few days later, I went to the Lahore Railway Station to get a ticket for my journey back to Quetta and found the usually busy station practically empty. Had the public stopped travelling during the war? That night, a ceasefire between India and Pakistan was announced.