The weeks passed slowly after our adventure on the mountain. With the end of the harvest, we started planting wheat. Every day was colder than the last, but Abu didn’t turn on the heater. Instead we bundled ourselves up in the thicker blankets and slept together. Abu didn’t talk to me the way he used to, I could tell he was still angry.
Bilal had also been punished, and Uncle Rehmat had stopped sending him to class. On most days, only Jamal and I were there. Every morning, Uncle Drogar would walk in and scowl when he saw us. I could tell he had been hoping for an empty classroom. The days were getting shorter. By the end of class, there was almost no light at all, and Uncle Drogar had lit a candle to light the board. We walked home in the dark, along the familiar road.
It was on one of these early nights that Jamal and I stumbled upon a stranded car. The big jeep, with all of its English writing on it, was covered in dirt. It was tilted strangely, and we realized that one of the tires had shrunk and flattened.
“Isn’t this Uncle Gulzar’s car?” I asked Jamal.
“I think so…”
Uncle Gulzar was a friend of Abu's who gave tours of the area. He often drove by our farm on the way further north.
“Come on, he probably stopped at the farm and asked Abu for help.” I said.
When we reached home, Abu was standing outside talking on his cellphone. “Kamran, are you sure you can’t you send someone tonight?” He saw us and covered the phone with a hand. “Go in and say Salam.”
Uncle Gulzar was sitting on the ground talking with Ami and Mina. I had expected him to have a tourist with him, but the man sitting next to him looked like he was also from Swat.
“As Salam Au Alaykum,” Jamal and I said.
“Waalaikum as Salam! Here’re the big heroes.” Uncle Gulzar exclaimed.
Abu walked in then, “Kamran’s people had to go down to Bahrain. Apparently there was an accident. You two should spend the night here.”
“I’ll start getting dinner ready.” Ami said.
“God bless you,” Uncle Gulzar said. “We were going to go and camp the night at Mahodand but I guess we’ll just have to visit in the morning.”
“Thank you,” the other man said, putting a hand on his chest. He was young and freshly shaven, with thick black hair.
“So, Zubair, how long has it been since you were up in Swat?” Abu asked the man, taking a seat with crossed legs.
“I think the last time I came was seven years ago. I was born in Mingora. But never went north of Bahrain.” His Pashto seemed strange, as if he had to think hard about everything he said.
“Good, so you took a vacation to come see the beauty of our parts? What do you think?”
“It’s beautiful. Mingora isn’t in the valley, it’s not as nice.”
“My wife is from Mingora, she said it’s much prettier here. You came alone?”
“Yes, my family moved to Peshawar.”
“I see. You live with them?”
“No I’m from Lahore.”
“Lahore? What’s a pathan like you doing there?” Abu asked, and started laughing with Uncle Gulzar.
“Good, honest work.”
“You’re not in school anymore? What work did you find?”
“I drive a rickshaw. How old are your kids?”
“I’m twelve years old!” Mina said, “Alam and Jamal are only nine.”
“I’m turning ten in two days!” I protested.
“But you’re only nine right now.”
“Your birthday was only last month!”
“Yes, and now I’m twelve.” Mina grinned smugly. She turned to the guest. “Uncle Zubair, have you seen the Minar-e-Pakistan?”
“Of course, I see it everyday.”
“Really? That’s incredible! That’s where the country was born you know. What about Shahi masjid?”
“Yep, I see that everyday too.”
“Did you know that the Emperor Aurangzeb made that mosque hundreds of years ago? They say he was a great king. He conquered all of India you know? And he was king for so many years, and after he died the empire wasn’t strong anymore. Bahadur Shah who came after him wasn’t a very good leader…”
Mina kept going on and on, loudly and confidently, blabbing about things that no one cared about. Luckily Abu interrupted her. “Shouldn’t you be helping your Ami in the kitchen?”
“But Abu!”
“Go.”
“Fine!” And she sulked away.
The older men started laughing. “Sorry, she gets like that.” Abu said.
“Ah, god bless her. She’s such a curious child.” Uncle Gulzar said.
Eventually dinner did come, and as we ate Uncle Zubair started telling us of his family in Peshawar. His family moved to the city when he was my age because they wanted to find good doctors for his grandpa. Then they tried to set up a marriage for him with a local. He didn’t like the girl, so he took a bus to Lahore and hadn’t seen his parents since.
As Uncle Zubair told his story, I kept glancing at Abu, expecting him to break into a rage and chastise the man. Abu had lectured us so many times on how parents always knew what was best for their kids. Surprisingly, he didn’t say anything. He nodded as Uncle Zubair described his relationships, and at the end of it he was supportive. But he said that Uncle Zubair should reconnect with his family, which I thought was a good idea.
After dinner, Ami left to put the baby to sleep and Mina prepared tea for the adults. Nano called Jamal, Mina and I over, and we spent the night with her as she knit a hat for the baby. She made us help with other clothes. I was hopeless, and my yarn kept tangling up. Mina of course was good, but she’d had lots of practice so it wasn’t a fair competition.
That night, Uncle Zubair slept on the second charpai, which meant that Jamal and I had to sleep on the ground. Uncle Gulzar joined us. The man’s loud and strange snoring kept me up for a long time. It was only when he stopped did I feel myself drifting.
Then the river seethed and churned, smashed into rocks and broke itself. Unlike wind that rattled doors and windows, the sound of water was never ending. A voice was calling, asking for help. I was holding a ladder which shook in my hands. Abu spoke to me. There was a shovel in my hands and I dug the Earth. Behind the farm, where Nanabu was. Two rivers met. Forever two and forever one.
Distant voices. A cart, loaded with meat and fruit. Reins in my hands, old and wrinkled. Hushed whispering. Agitated, as if on the verge of yelling. Sky painted red, terraces coloured golden. Snow falling and children laughing. Crying, rhythmic sobs broken by pleas. An explosion, skin connecting with skin. The harvest was over, and winter was coming.
I opened my eyes in the dark and heard voices. Whispers and whimpers that came from Ami and Abu's bedroom. I got up quietly, trying not to kick Uncle Gulzar or Jamal. And when I walked to the door, I did it on my toes.
“Please, please don’t do it.” Ami pleaded.
“I’ve already made up my mind.”
I opened the door and light blinded me. “Ami?”
She was clinging to Abu's leg. Her cheek was red, eyes watery. Both paused when they saw me. Then Ami howled and crawled over. She grabbed me tightly.
“Don’t take him away from me. Don’t take my baby away from me. Don’t let him take my son. God help me, stop this man.”
Abu crossed the room, and grabbed one of Ami's arms, forcing it off from around me. “Noo!” She shrieked helplessly.
“Get yourself together, woman.” He said, and pushed her out of the room, where she collapsed on the ground and sobbed. He slammed the door shut behind me.
Then he started pacing and breathing angrily. I didn’t dare blink, but couldn’t help glancing at the cane resting against the wall.
Finally, a while after I couldn’t hear Ami outside the door anymore, Abu sat at the edge of the bed and sighed loudly. He patted the space next to him.
“Come here, son.”
I sat next to him and he said, “what do you want to do with your life Alam?”
“I don’t know…”
“Why not? Why don’t you think about these things? You’re ten now. You need to start thinking about your future.”
“Sorry…”
“That’s why you skip your classes and don’t work hard. You don’t understand how important it is.”
“I don’t need to go to class if I’m going to be a farmer.”
He looked at me incredulously. “I’m not going to give you the farm Alam.”
“What?” That couldn’t be true. All my life, everyone I’d ever met had told me that I would inherit the farm.
“I have another son; the farm will go to him.” Abu said casually.
“What? But…Jamal killed the goat Abu, it wasn’t my fault…I didn’t do anything I swear. Bilal and I were just playing around, we wanted to see how high we could climb.”
“You two skipped class, and you dragged him along.”
“But Bilal wanted to…”
“Alam, I expect you to take responsibility for your actions.”
“Abu! I said I’m sorry, I said it won’t happen again!”
“Why do you want the farm?”
“Because it should be mine!” I remembered something Nano had told us a long time ago. “Because it’s in my blood. We’re farmers. That’s what Allah made us.”
Abu shook his head. “Every day I wake up in pain. My fingers hurt. My back aches and my knees cry with each step. Every night, I count the money we made that day. Even before I do, I know it’s not enough. My last thought before falling asleep is always that I can’t give more to you kids. I can’t give Mina the new study books she wants. I can’t buy new toys and clothes for the baby.”
“You’ve seen the tourists. The ones from around the country, from around the world. Think about how nice their lives must be. They have the time and ability to come all the way here. They have the money to fly in an airplane, to pay Uncle Gulzar to show them around. Look at how they wear one set of clothes going north and then they’re changed and wearing something different coming south. How many clean clothes must they have? Do you think they worry about planting seeds, harvesting crop or paying farmhands? Do you think they worry about how they’re going to pay for heat in the winter?”
“Alam, never believe that you were born to be a farmer. Allah would never trap someone in such a hard life.”
“But Abu I like farming…”
“No you don’t.” He raised his hand before I could protest. “What did you think of Uncle Zubair?”
“What? He seemed nice…But Abu…”
“I talked with him last night. He says that he knows a person in Lahore who needs a boy to help at his business. Him and Uncle Gulzar are going further north tomorrow. When they return in a few days, you will get in the car with them and travel to Mingora. Then you’ll get on a bus with Uncle Zubair to Lahore.”
“What?”
“You’ll go to school in Lahore. You’ll learn. Your education won’t be meaningless and you’ll be able to make something of your life.”
“But Abu…” I knew he was punishing me. “I said I’m sorry, I swear I won’t skip class ever again.”
“You won’t. And you will go to school in Lahore. Now go back to sleep. We’ll talk tomorrow if you want.”
I wiped my eyes. “Abu you’re lying; you’re tricking me aren’t you?”
“I’m not Alam. You will go to Lahore.”
“No but…”
“Go to bed.”
I walked out of the room in a daze and almost tripped on Ami, who was still lying on the ground, silently crying. Mina was awake, and squatting beside her, running her hands through Ami's hair. She looked up at me. “What did you do?” she whispered wide eyed.
I ignored her. And while walking back to my bedding, I prayed that this was just a bad dream.
But when I woke up and heard Uncle Gulzar’s stupid snoring, I punched my pillow and knew it wasn’t. The room was still dark. I grasped around until I found my jacket and opened the door just enough to sneak out of the house.
The morning October air was crisp and refreshing. The sun was coming, and I could already tell that it would be a clear day. The terraces were barren. We’d harvested all of the rice crop, and the wheat hadn’t started growing. I walked past them and onto the road. The mountain next to our farm was so familiar that I didn’t even have to think about how to climb it. I went half way up to where a flat boulder jutted out from the ground.
Sitting on the boulder, the view was beautiful. Autumn had come, and the valley was golden. The river appeared suddenly around a mountain to the north. It wound past the two farms and Uncle Gulzar’s jeep before disappearing the same way to the south. Did it leave the valley behind? I found it hard to imagine the river crashing and tumbling without the backdrop of the mountains that stood over it.
Some time after the sun had risen fully, Mina and Jamal stepped out of the house. Mina went to the river and began filling buckets. Jamal walked to one of the sheds and started collecting firewood.
They were preparing hot water. We had a pump behind the house, but to save diesel we only used it during winter. On the coldest days, the river would have slowed to a crawl and the valley would be silent. Then we’d turn on the pump and I’d imagine it to be the river as it was in the spring.
Smoke and steam were billowing from the heater when Abu came outside. Talking on his cellphone, he strolled casually through the terraces. At some point, he glanced in my direction. But I couldn’t tell if he saw me or not.
After he went back in, the farm was quiet. Eventually, Uncle Gulzar, Uncle Zubair and Abu walked out to the stranded jeep. I felt angry at seeing them huddled around it. If the car hadn’t broken, Abu would never have met Uncle Zubair.
I saw the other car coming before they did. It bobbed and jumped randomly on the road, coming to a stop beside the group of men. A chubby man stepped out. He embraced Abu and Uncle Gulzar, shook Uncle Zubair’s hand. They stood and chatted for a while before the man stepped around to the back of his car and pulled out a tire. Uncle Gulzar started rummaging through his car until he found a strange orange thing and a black stick.
They put the orange thing beneath the car and started pushing on the rod. Then they took off the broken tire and put a new one on. After they’d put everything back into the cars, they stood around talking for a while. Finally, the chubby man got in his car and drove backwards for a while until he had room to turn the car around and disappear behind the mountains.
Uncle Gulzar got into his car and turned it on. Abu stood outside and talked with Uncle Zubair. He shook the other man’s hand, placing one hand on his own chest. Then he waved as the car stumbled down the road. I watched it drive past ours and then Bilal’s farm before disappearing around a mountain.
A few hours later I was lying on my back somewhere else on the mountain. A shadow fell across me.
“Oi, what’re you doing up here?” Bilal said.
I’d heard him coming, so I wasn’t surprised.
“Looking at the clouds.”
He sat down. “What’s so special about clouds?”
“That one looks like a chicken.”
“No it doesn’t.”
“Yes it does! Look, there’s the talons and the neck and the beak.”
“You’re making stuff up man.”
He was right. There weren’t many clouds to look at, let alone one that looked like a chicken.
“You’re not in school today?”
“It’s Sunday you dummy.”
“Oh really? Man, when you’re not in class you don’t even notice.”
“So your Abu's not going to let you go to class anymore?”
“I dunno…He said it’s a waste of time. I’m just going to be a farmer anyway right?”
“Right…”
“But it’s boring, there’s nothing to do. You and Jamal should skip class so we can play together.”
“Abu would kill us.”
“He doesn’t need to know!”
“You’re an idiot. If I came back home he’d see me. Or your Ami and Abu would tell him.”
“Well how about I sneak away and come down to Matiltan, we’ll meet up there.”
“Are you going to walk?”
“Sure! But maybe I can sneak onto Uncle Zafran’s cart.”
“You’re an idiot.”
“Shut up.”
“Have you ever been that way?” I sat up and pointed north up the road.
“I mean, I live there. Who’s the idiot now?”
“No you dummy, I mean past your farm.”
“No, I never went far. I think the farthest I went was with you, but we could still see the farms from there.”
“What do you think is up there?”
“I dunno, more mountains probably?”
“Right…But the tourists always go that way. There must be something to see right? Why did we never go Bilal? Why didn’t we explore that way?”
“I dunno, I never thought about it. Everyone lives the other way, that’s where the school and town are…And usually we only go exploring when we skip class right?”
“But haven’t you ever thought about where the river comes from? Or where it goes?”
“Not really…Why does it matter?”
“Yeah, I guess it doesn’t…There was a tourist last night who stayed at our farm.”
“Oh yeah, we saw them fixing the car this morning.”
“Yeah…They went North.”
“So?”
“So I was just thinking that this valley is our home. But he’s going to go to his home and he’ll have seen more of it than I have.”
“Big deal. You live here, you can go there any time you want.”
“Yeah…”
Bilal stood up. “I should go, Ami wanted me to help with the chickens”
“Wait,” I said quietly.
He stopped. And after a minute, “are you crying?”
“No.” I wiped my face with a sleeve. “Just don’t go yet okay?”
“Okay.” He extended a hand. “Come on, let’s go for a walk.”
“Where?”
He pointed north. “That way.”
It turns out Bilal was right. North of his farm were more mountains. For tourists it must have looked the same as the rest of the valley. But not for me. These mountains were different. There were new shapes and new rocks. And they seemed so much taller, so much more daunting. They weren’t like the mountains I had looked at for years. I hadn’t figured out how to climb these ones yet. The river was different too. It swelled and narrowed in new ways. There was a place where it wasn’t moving fast at all – it was so wide. Then big rocks blocked its path and it sped up to get past them.
Eventually we came to a clearing where the road was flooded. Water fell from halfway up a mountain and the stream continued to flow down to the river. There were several shacks and people sat inside them guarding bags of chips and snacks. They stared at us as we approached, but seemed to lose interest when they realized we weren’t tourists.
We ignored them and climbed up the mountain, following the stream to its base where water tumbled down with a crash. Eventually, a car appeared and stopped on the other side of the pool of water that gathered at the road. A family of four got out and started exploring excitedly, climbing rocks near their car.
Bilal and I watched them from the waterfall, and waved back when their kids waved at us. They took out a camera and started taking pictures.
“See, they came from far away to look at this valley, but we live here.” Bilal slapped my back and grinned.
“I wonder where they came from.”
“Oh, let’s go ask.”
Before I could stop him, Bilal was running down the mountain. We reached their car panting. The tour guide was pointing up at the mountain and saying something in urdu, but he talked too fast to understand.
Bilal tugged on his sleeve. “Uncle”
The man pulled his sleeve back, pushed Bilal away and continued to talk to his guests. The wife in the family stopped him and leaned her head around the man to look at us. “As Salam Au Alaykum!”
“Waalaikum as Salam,” we said. The driver put his arms around his back and stepped back. I stuck my tongue out at him when I was sure the other two adults weren’t looking.
The aunty talked to Bilal in Urdu. He nodded but I knew he couldn’t understand her. Eventually he interrupted her and in broken speech asked, “where are you from Aunty?”
She laughed and slapped her husband’s arm. “Of course they don’t speak Urdu.”
“I can speak it!” I said, “better than him.”
She smiled. “We’re from Faisalabad.”
“Stop wasting our time and go home.” The driver said in Pashto.
Faisalabad. I’d heard of the city of course. But I didn’t remember where it was on the map, probably somewhere far away.
I tugged on Bilal’s arm. “Okay have fun!” I said, and we started to run down the road.
“Wait!” The lady called behind us.
“Bye Bye!” I shouted in English and grinned.
I hadn’t realized how far from home we had explored. On the way back, the sun was setting and we were still trudging down the road.
“I’m so hungry…” Bilal said. “You know I only ate Breakfast right? That was hours ago.”
As if Bilal could complain. I hadn’t eaten anything since I woke up.
“We’re almost there.” I said. And I was right, because we rounded a bend in the road and then we could see the farms.
“Are you going to get in trouble?” I asked as we approached his farm.
He grinned nonchalantly. “I’m always in trouble.”
“That was fun, thanks” I said.
“We have lots of exploring to do. Next time we’ll go past that waterfall, okay?”
“Yeah…Okay.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow!” Bilal said, and walked off the road to his house.
Abu was in a good mood all night, but the rest of us were subdued. Ami didn’t say a word, and hid in her room. She only came out at dinnertime when she made fresh paratha’s, and stuffed mine with potatoes. She kissed my forehead and said many prayers.
No one mentioned anything about me leaving until Jamal came up to me and said, “Abu told us you’re going away.”
“Yeah.”
“How long will you be gone for?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why are you going?”
“It’s your fault you idiot. Why did you have to throw the rock at the goat? Didn’t you think about how much trouble we’d get into?”
“I’m sorry…”
“Why did you do it?”
“It was an accident.” I knew he was lying. He had watched that rock all the way down the mountain. I saw the look in his eyes. I’d seen it before. He had that look whenever he was stabbing insects behind the house. He’d keep poking at the dead bug with a twig and splitting apart its insides, leaning in real close to look at them. He had the same look whenever he threw rocks at squirrels or birds. The same look whenever he watched Abu slaughter a chicken or goat.
“It should be you.” I said, and left him.
I went to Nano who was sitting upright on her bed and reading her Quran. She saw me, finished her verse, put the book away and embraced me while whispering prayers.
“God give this child strength. Protect him from harm. Protect him from those would influence him evilly…”
“Nano, I don’t want to go…” I whispered. “Why do I have to?”
She finished whispering her prayers and blew on me. “Oh, I will miss my little baby so much.”
“Then tell Abu to let me stay!”
“You’ll see so much in Lahore.”
“But I don’t want to go! It’s unfair! I didn’t do anything wrong!”
“Oh my little baby. Your Abu just wants what’s best for you.”
“But Nano…”
“Oh, you’re going to be so grown up. You’re going to become a doctor or an engineer. You’re going to become so smart. Keep god close to your heart and he will guide you.”
She started reciting more prayers and I knew that she wouldn’t convince Abu to change his mind. Ami didn’t say or do anything either, and late at night she started packing my clothes.
I was walking by Ami and Abu's bedroom when I heard crying from inside. I looked through one of the holes in the door and could see Mina’s head buried in Abu's chest.
“Honey, you know you need to stay at home and help your Ami.”
“But I want to go to Lahore too!”
“Mina…”
“Abu! That’s where all of the good schools are! All of the good universities…Alam doesn’t even go to class all the time, he doesn’t care!”
“Mina you know that I can’t send both of you.”
“But Abu…”
“No. I can’t. We don’t have the money. And we need you at home.”
“It’s not fair!”
“Honey, I’m sorry.”
“I don’t need money Abu, I can work. I’ll be a maid or something…”
“No. I won’t let you sell yourself.”
“But Abu…”
“Mina, you don’t need school. I’ll make sure that you marry a good and successful man. He’ll take care of you. It’s different for men. They need to be the breadwinner. Alam needs what Lahore can give him. I won’t talk about this anymore.”
I left, angry at both Mina and Abu. If she wanted to go to Lahore so badly, I still didn’t see why Abu couldn’t send her instead. I was perfectly happy to never go to school again.
It was another restless night. By the time I got to sleep, the sun was coming up and I could already hear Ami performing her morning prayer.
She woke me up not long afterwards when she lay down by my side and stroked my hair. “Get up and get ready Alam, they’re coming this afternoon.” She kissed my forehead. “Oh, I’m going to miss you so much. You’ll have to write often, and come back often okay? And don’t you find a Punjabi wife, Ami will find you the perfect one here.”
I remembered how Ami had cried and pleaded with Abu, and knew that all she could do was try not to be sad.
“Start saying all of your prayers, and ask Allah for guidance every day. And stay away from bad looking people. Are you going to miss me?”
I nodded. “I’m going to miss everyone.”
She kissed my forehead again and started reciting prayers.
After breakfast, for which Ami made my favourite paratha’s again, Abu called me into his room. He opened the drawer of his bedside table and pulled out the heavy, faded watch that he wore.
“My Abu gave me this, so it only makes sense for me to give it to you.” He said. “But maybe you shouldn’t wear it for a few years. It’s expensive. Don’t let beggars see it, they’ll ask for money or they might take it from you.”
He placed it in my hands. “Happy Birthday Alam.”
I had completely forgotten that it was my birthday.
“Thanks Abu.”
He scrummaged through another drawer and found two wrinkly envelopes. Then he lifted the mattress on his bed and from beneath it he pulled out a folder. He opened it and started counting the bills inside.
Most of the money that was in the folder went into the two envelopes. “It’ll be tough to stock up for winter this time, but we’ll manage.”
He gave me the fatter envelope. “I want you to hold on to this and give this to the man that will be taking care of you in Lahore. Tell him that it’s all we could save and that it pays for your upkeep. You need to be on your best behaviour with this man, remember that he’s letting you into his house and family.”
“You will be doing work for him as well. But make sure that you go to school. Alam, you absolutely must go to school. Do not let him stop you. And if he does, tell him that this payment pays for the time that you’ll spend in class. Understand?” I nodded and put the envelope and watch into my bag.
He gave me the other envelope. “Keep this safe. It’s for you. Don’t use it unless you absolutely have to. It’s only for emergencies.”
I nodded.
“Good. Now what’s the most important thing you need to do in Lahore?”
“Go to school.”
“Good boy. I don’t want you ending up like Uncle Zubair. I’m not sending you off to become a rickshaw driver, okay?”
“Okay.”
He placed his hands on my shoulders and pulled me in for a hug. “I’m proud of you Alam. The city will be scary, but be strong. I know you’ll be fine.”
“Abu…I still don’t want to go.” I was crying. “Please don’t make me go Abu…”
“I know son. But I hope someday you’ll understand.”
Mina was waiting for me outside the room.
She held out a brown knitted hat. “I was making this for you for winter…but I don’t know how cold it’ll be in Lahore…Any way, happy birthday and everything…”
“Thanks…” I said, taking the hat and trying to wipe my red eyes.
“Oh!” She hugged me. “I’m going to miss you! Who’s going to take care of Jamal now? Bilal’s going to be so lonely.”
“I’ll miss you too, Mina.”
“You’re so lucky! Lahore is a beautiful city! I’m going to get the address from Uncle Zubair and I’ll write to you as often as I can, okay? You have to send me a picture of the Minar-E-Pakistan, and the fortress and all of the people. Imagine how many people you’re going to meet! You’re going to learn so much in class. You’ll actually have to pay attention. It won’t be like here where we learn the same things every year. Make sure you study as hard as you can. Abu won’t be happy if you fail. And you’re going to make so many Punjabi friends too! You’ll have to learn how to speak Punjabi, but don’t forget Pashto okay?”
I couldn’t imagine not being able to speak Pashto, how was that even possible? Then I remembered Uncle Zubair with his broken Pashto, and the thought scared me.
“Take care of Jamal, Bilal and the baby for me.” I said.
The sun was high in the sky when Abu got a call from Uncle Gulzar. I said good bye to Nano. Then we took my two bags and waited outside by the road. As the jeep appeared on the road, Ami started crying and hugged me closely. It stopped in front of us, and the two uncles got out to greet us.
Abu talked with Uncle Zubair, while Uncle Gulzar came up to me.
“So, are you excited to see Lahore kid?”
I shook my head, still caught in Ami's embrace.
The man laughed. “I’ve been to Lahore. It’s a nice city. But be careful, you can’t trust Punjabis.”
“Okay.”
“Zubair’s a good man. He’ll take care of the kid.” He said to Ami. “Come on, let’s get your bags in the car.”
He opened the back of the car. It was a lot smaller than I had imagined, and was already crowded with bags and other items. He started shuffling them around to make space. “These are the tents and sleeping bags we used when we went far north. Do you know we could see Chitral from there?”
I nodded, though I had no idea what Chitral was.
“Okay, we need to get moving.” He said after glancing at his watch.
“Wait…” I said, and looked over at Bilal’s farm.
“It’s a four-hour drive to Mingora, and we don’t want to miss the bus to Lahore. Let’s go.” Uncle Gulzar announced to everyone.
“Okay. Hurry up and get inside.” Abu said, and hurried me into the back seat of the car.
Author's Note:
Nice and real late as usual! Woohoo!
I blame 3B Mech Engineering...But I don't really have much of an excuse
If you've read this and pt.1, let me know what you think! Hope the story so far is enjoyable!
Zammar
No comments:
Post a Comment