ISLAMABAD: With quiet heartbreak and deep gratitude, we say goodbye to Durrani & Company, the beloved bookshop in F-6/3 that first opened its humble doors in 1975.

After 50 years of steadfast service, the shutters have come down for the last time.

Durrani & Company was never just a shop. It was a cornerstone of childhood, a time capsule of learning, and a trusted companion through the rhythm of school years, exam seasons, and early mornings spent clutching booklists and lunch money.

For three generations, Durrani & Co was where the school year began, with crisp new books, plain-covered copies, sharpened pencils, and geometry boxes that smelt of possibility. From the thick brown wrapping paper to the pastel art supplies, everything came wrapped not just in paper, but in memory.

On Monday, I went there one last time. I stood among the shelves, trying to take it all in. And then — I cried. I couldn’t hold back the tears, nor did I want to. As I stood in quiet farewell, Mr Durrani himself was there, the same gentleman who had been the keeper of our childhoods for decades. I asked him, softly but desperately: “Why?”

Was he under duress? Was someone forcing him to close? Was there anything I could do?

He smiled with his characteristic calm, and said simply, “It’s time for me to retire.” While I wept, another woman, a stranger, yet not a stranger, walked in. She too had come to say goodbye. We stood there, two grown women, united by memory and loss.

Mr Durrani shared that over the past week, dozens upon dozens of people had come — parents, teachers, students, even grandparents — to pay their respects. He was deeply overwhelmed by the love, the reverence, the care.

“This kind of affection,” he said gently, “cannot be bought with any amount of money.” In an age where bookstores vanish and childhoods change, Durrani & Company stood still — a comforting relic of an Islamabad that once was kinder, quieter, and more human.

“Some places are more than bricks and mortar — they are stitched into the fabric of who we are.” - Anonymous

How does one say goodbye to not just a store, but a shared past? A piece of our city’s soul? In the silence of its shelves and the dust on its counters lie stories that will outlive the bricks. And even as the sign comes down, its memory lives on — in every home that ever carried a Durrani copy in a schoolbag.

To the Durrani family, and to those who built this legacy: thank you. For 50 years of serving with integrity, care, and quiet constancy. Islamabad will never forget you.

— The writer is an artist

Published in Dawn, July 1st, 2025