The Past Of A Journey: Part 2

 You might have read the first part of The Past Of A Journey, where I was stuck between space and time in a van. Not that I was stuck in the concept that recognizes the union of space and time or the spacetime curve. I was stuck in the limited space of the van with the "Coke ki botlain." and had limited time to make my journey successful. I had no choice but to look back at the long road on which the van was moving as delicately as a fat seal, strolling down a trail.

After eons of waiting, we finally landed at the Faizabad station in Pindi. Oh, behold, it's just as you're about to dive in a sea of people and vans everywhere. Making your way through this crowd is an arduous journey itself. One can see people standing with vans yelling at the top of their voices about their transport services, which is no different from the one I took to reach here. Moving forward to the metro station, there are kids selling masks who stick to you like leeches and do not stop following you until you assure them that you have a mask. While some don't stop the chase just at that, they continue to follow until you hand them over some money or actually purchase from them.

Did you just think that giving some money to the "Mask wala bacha" would let you have a breath of relief? 

NO! It just doesn't happen! 

If you've given money to any "Mask wala bacha," at least ten to fifteen "Mask walay bachy" will appear from every corner, forming a giant swarm to come after you for the same money. They are not coming to kill you, hurt you, injure you or attack you; what they are coming for may have you bankrupt right away! 

So, if you ever get into a situation of a similar sort, think of yourself as an athlete running for the Olympics, and run as fast as your legs can endure. 

Getting back to the progress of my journey...

We made our way through the crowd, avoiding the "mask walay bachy" and other leeches that could suck our money, destroying the whole budget plan; we reached the ticket counter to get the tickets for the metro bus. 

Metro... 

You won't know what it feels like to be on a Metro bus until you get on one. Now, a first-timer might think of a luxury ride waiting at the station; however, the heartbreak is confirmed when they get into a metro bus.

It's definitely a great initiative to connect the twin cities; the route goes from Pindi Saddar to the Pak secretariat in Islamabad. It's been an excellent means to help citizens move around by paying the least amount of money, yet what goes inside is sometimes horrific. If you're traveling on a Metro bus for the first time, it is suggested to take a deep breath of fresh air, cause for the next 20-30 minutes of your journey, you won't have a chance to inhale the fresh air or air or breathe at all. 

Inside the bus, people are constantly wrangling with each other, just on the brink of crossing swords to find a place to sit or stand. There are just 8-10 seats in the ladies' section, which are definitely not enough to accommodate the plethora of women entering the bus at every station. So, you'll see heads and feet everywhere inside the bus, and you may as well understand the crucial role of deodorant in the life of every person standing and traveling or existing on the face of Earth. 

A public service message for all traveling in Metro or any other public transport, buy and wear deodorant to save lives, or you might be a reason for escalating lung cancer cases. 

For the next 30 minutes, I was stuck in the similar torment of people without deodorant, unavailability of enough space to stand or breathe, and the lack of empathy surpassing all. As the door opened, I rushed out as if a goat escaped the slaughter or a bull running in the bull race. 

Finally, the eagles landed where they had been striving to be since morning.

We reached our sister's place, and trust me, after the next thing I tell you, you wouldn't want to surprise anyone in your life ever again.

The place was locked, and there was no one at home!!

Jaws dropped, right?

Yes, never went to meet my sister again without informing her. 

Khair!

We had our share of amusement in Pindi; shopping and eating a variety of food. Until the clock struck 4, the Cinderellas had to run again before the carriage turned to pumpkin again.

Tick Tock, Tick Tock...

Rushed to the Metro bus Stop!

Landed back in a rush!

Going back in the same slothy buss!

The same journey, in a similar sort of van, which moved like a sloth on the motorway. This time with another set of people from a number of ethnicities, cultures, and backgrounds. 

Some spoke gibberish, some talked to their girlfriends, and others took care of their disputes and businesses. We had no more stamina, so we fell to sleep until we entered Peshawar. 

After this long tiresome journey, there's one thing dawned on me...

"There is no place like home...."