Descriptions:
The Grand Piano was stored away before its owners immigrated to U.S.—much like Pakistan, set aside yet evoked through patriotic songs. We grew up on anthems, but without the earnest nationalism needed to reclaim lost glory. Pakistan is like a grandfather—adored, yet ignored. Today, the piano erodes, my grandfather battles dementia, and Pakistan remains in decline. The American piano, my Pakistani grandfather, and Pakistan itself share an uncanny parallel—fading in isolation, longing to be revived from the storeroom of forgotten memories. Their silence lingers, waiting to be heard once more.
