The day I met Nawaz and Maryam in Adiala

It was a particularly warm and humid morning on August 16 as I set out from Lahore towards Rawalpindi at 4:30 a.m. In order to avoid a traffic snarl-up on the motorway, I had to make an early start.

"Are you sure I am on the list?" I asked nervously, holding the cellphone in one hand and the leather-wrapped steering wheel in another. Yes, my editor assured me.

By 10:30 a.m., I parked on the Adiala road outside the Central Jail in Rawalpindi and walked towards the main gate, snaking through a labyrinth of media vans.

"Excuse me. I am listed for a visit today." A security official scanned me curiously, and then ran a pen down a sheet of paper. "No, you are not," he replied curtly. Confused, and somewhat expecting the reply, I suggested he check again. He did not. But just when I was about to leave, he asked, "Are you a journalist?"

"Yes sir."

He then pulled out another sheet of paper with three names on it. Crossing out mine, he beckoned me toward the security lineup. By now, the sun had begun to display its full might. In the security queue behind me, I noticed Pakistan Muslim League-Nawaz's Mushahid Hussain Syed, Hasil Khan Bizenjo, and Saira Afzal Tarar. Together, we entered a hall-like room which was probably 20 feet wide. Inside, 15 other PML-N leaders were lined up on chairs, including former minister of state Tallal Chaudhry.

For the next hour, we sat waiting. Beads of perspiration began to glean on our foreheads. The warmth outside was seeping in, rendering useless the two ceiling fans. Within the next few minutes, the crowd had swelled up to 40 people.

Finally, they arrived. Both Nawaz Sharif, the former prime minister, and Maryam Nawaz Sharif, his daughter, were dressed in identical white shades. The father was the first to move across the room, shaking hands and exchanging greetings. His daughter lingered behind him, nestling a cup of tea.

41 days behind bars, in the maximum-security prison, and yet they both exuded confidence.

Sharif pulled up a chair and sat in the middle of the room with Maryam beside him. Hasil Bizenjo and Sardar Muhammad Yaqoob were seated behind them.

The former prime minister spoke first, thanking everyone for coming. He added that tough times were not uncommon, but more importantly one should have the courage to face them. Most of the 40 heads in the room nodded vigorously in agreement. Sharif then narrated his recent trip to the hospital after his health deteriorated. One of the doctors examining him burst into tears at the sight of the former prime minister, he said. "I could be upset," I told the doctor, "but I am not. Why are you crying?"

In the meantime, Maryam N. Sharif was trying to raise the spirits of Qamar ul Islam Raja's children. Raja is currently in the custody of the National Accountability Bureau (NAB). "This too shall pass," she kept telling them. At some point during the interactions, Capt (r) Safdar Awan, Maryam's husband, silently entered the room. His health had visibly deteriorated.

40 or so people in one room, yet all eyes were on Sharif's daughter. Her smile barely faded.

An hour later, around 12:30 p.m., the jail supervisor, who was standing in a corner of the room, leaned over and whispered something in the former prime minister's ear. Mushahid Hussain was the first to stand up, understanding the signal. The others stood up in unison after him.

The meeting was coming to an end and I never got a chance to say a word. As we lined up behind each other to walk out, Shah Mohammad Shah, a PML-N leader from Sindh, said, "Mian sahib, you and your daughter are very brave." Sharif didn’t reply. With that, we exited the hall. Outside, another crowd of PML-N workers and leaders stood waiting to meet their leader on the only day they are allowed to.