The Past Of A Journey!

Ever wondered what a one-day trip could be like? Well, let me take you through one.

Not having had an adventure for quite a long time, my stomach started growling, as it was also bored of being the only victim of my boredom (eating, of course). And I was also bored of eating, given that I was mostly eating to evade boredom. 

So, one dawn, it dawned on me to pay a visit to my sister's without breaking the news to anyone in the house. Hold on!! I am not alone on this journey; we all have a crime partner in our lives who stands with us through the silliest of things that we do ( here I'm dismissing the fact that most of the things that we do are not normal anyway). So, boredom and the urge for an adventure compelled us to plan to go out and have fun. 

Boredom makes us do the craziest and most creative of things. 

 As I was asleep like a vegetable, dreaming about being on a fantastic trip, someone shook me out of that slumber to the real world, reminding me of the fact that there was a trip planned for the day. Without a second thought, I ran like a horse (unaware of the fact that for the rest of the day, I'll be doing exactly the same). 

We had to go to Pindi without informing anyone at home, so my Crime Partner and I got ready for the trip. But how is it possible to begin without fear of being stuck in Pindi because of a strike? Trust me, this sensation hits in like being part of FINAL DESTINATION, where Parents and Family members wait for you like death awaiting one chance. So, before we hit the ground, it was crucial to ensure that the return journey was as open as the journey towards Pindi. So, I texted one of my acquaintances residing in Islamabad with a direct inquiry about routes or any kind of Protest by any of the troublemaking political parties of our Country. 

After some time, a reply beeped on my mobile screen, and I hurried to see what it was. My friend replied to me with a similar fear " Ap to mjhy dara rhi hain, hum bh Peshawar arhy hain" Not satisfied with the response, I texted another friend to ask if there was any strike in Pindi and got to know that the only strike was the bad breakfast strike that he was actively on, which couldn't stop us from the trip.

So, we picked up the essentials and stepped out of our home for a long day ( not exactly a long day, but later felt like a long day). Our first station was Haji Camp for local transport to drive us to Pindi. Local transports are all fun until you have to sit in them for prolonged periods, and you can even hear your bones and the seat screaming for salvation. Another exciting part of local transports is the people traveling with you, coming from different cultures, languages, ethnicities, and religions. 

What we were seated next to, a completely different species of ManKind, locally named "Coke Ki botlain," and a walking threat to the traffic; a woman in "TOPI WALA BURQA" along with her kids and another woman in Burqa. BE WARY of these Coke Ki Botlain; as you drive on the road, they can lead you to the gravest of accidents, and we were stuck with them for the next three hours. 

Soon, regret started engulfing me, as the van's speed was slower than the speed with which kids on the next seat were munching their crisps. Their crisps brought water to my mouth, and with half greed and half hunger, I opened the pack of chips that I had purchased on my way to the Bus stop. The taste of chips diverted my mind from the sloth-like speed of the driver for some time. Sun was spreading its light as intricately woven threads of gold and slightly making its way inside the van on the face of those kids sitting beside me. 

Before this, I couldn't pay mind to the innocent faces of the kids sitting beside us with the Pathan woman, as my mind was too occupied with the driver's speed. The girl was probably hitting the sixth year of her life and wore the most beautiful smile blossoming under the sun while playing with her baby brother. While playing with her brother, I noticed the old disgusting mindset of prioritizing the male child over the girls in every desi family. 

Anyway, two hours had passed after getting back to the journey, and still, there was a long way to reach Pindi. I turned towards the Burqa Posh Pathani sitting with me, who was very friendly so far, to seek assistance to pursue the driver for speeding. However, despite the frankness, there was a barrier between us, "Zuban ki Dewar" (Language barrier). Rearranging all the Pushto Vocabulary in my mind, I formulated one short sentence to communicate my message "مهرباني وکړئ هغه ته ووایا چې موټرتیز چلوي."  (Please tell the driver to drive faster). The woman turned towards me with a smile as if I cracked a joke, and replied, "دا ښه ده چې هغه ورو موټر چلوي" (It's good that he's driving slow). I could see my hopes drowning in the sea of despair.