Our Story Ends Here

Mehar - Chapter 1

'Swat, a river valley and an administrative district in the Khyber Pakhtunkhwa province of Pakistan, is almost 685 kilometers from Lahore.'

'Queen Elizabeth II, during her visit to the Yusafzai State of Swat, called it the "Switzerland of the east".'

These results popped up on Wikipedia and other websites when I typed the name of the beautiful tourist destination on Google. I had been fascinated with that place since childhood. I had always shared a strong bond with it. Whenever I heard its name, I felt that strong association. However, I failed to understand or remember the reason behind that unusual feeling.

I immediately closed the browser window and looked around. It was the end of the winter season; flowers had already started blooming all across the front yard of our institute. I sat cross-legged with my friends, Laraib and Asma, on the moist grass of Kinnaird College and pretended to study for our finals. We were studying less and babbling more.

'What are you checking so keenly on Facebook?' Laraib asked Asma. For a minute I thought she was asking me.

'Have you checked iTravel Pakistan's page on Facebook? They arrange sightseeing trips to the northern areas of Pakistan,' Asma informed.

'Really? That's amazing!' Laraib exclaimed.

'One of our seniors told me that the members of this group are genuine, extremely reliable and arrange successful trips. I was thinking of going on a trip with them after our final examinations. What say?'Asma asked us.

I shut my book and looked at her. Their conversation had piqued my interest.

'Sounds exciting! Where is their next trip headed to?' Laraib asked, getting excited.

'They are going to Kalam, Swat and Malam Jabba next week! It's going to be a ten-day tour!' Asma announced as she read from her laptop screen.

'Wow! I really want to visit Swat valley. Let's make a plan!' Laraib said, getting excited.

Flabbergasted by her words, I instantly looked down at the book lying on my lap. Was this a coincidence?

'I've been there a number of times in my childhood,' I interjected, looking at Asma. 'Times were different then. Don't you think going there will be a bit dicey now? Considering how it's under the influence of terrorism?' I questioned.

'Of course not. I've heard the government and the army have worked on improving the tourism sector of Khyber Pakhtunkhwa. Otherwise, the travel agencies wouldn't arrange trips to these areas,' Laraib said.

I nodded thoughtfully.

'Will you get permission, Asma?' Laraib asked.

'I think so. My parents have never objected to going out for school or college trips.'

'That's great,' Laraib smiled. 'What about you, Mehar?'

'Uh . . . I think it's going to be a predicament for me, guys. I haven't been there without my family. I don't think they would want me to go all by myself.'

'But you can talk to them about it, right?' Asma whispered.

'Yeah, I will try,' I nodded.

My father, retired general Haissam, had an authoritarian personality but he was generous and kind towards the people he loved. He loved my mother and had devoted everything to his family. Though he was a retired army officer, he had managed his household without any hurdle. We were in a good position financially. We were two sisters and one brother. As a father, he had become more protective towards his children after the demise of my younger brother, Omar.

I waited at the gate for my chauffeur, whom Abba sent every day to pick me from college. Though I had learnt how to drive, I never practiced. The sight of my friends and other girls driving all by themselves made me jealous at times.

I lived in a farmhouse on Raiwind road, far away from the hustle and bustle of the main city. As the car pulled inside the driveway, I got out and looked at our lush, green and manicured garden. The entire garden was furnished with beautiful flowers and trees. Amma was fond of gardening, and she loved to decorate our garden with different plants. However, since my brother's death, she had lost interest in looking after them. It was mostly done by the gardener now.

Inside, I found my mother in the prayer room. I walked up to her and sat silently across her. I observed the wrinkles on her forehead and the dark circles that were forming under her eyes. Since Amma had fair skin, the dark circles were more prominent. She did not look after herself at all. This bothered me as I wanted her to look as beautiful as ever.

'You are home?' Amma asked as she sensed my presence in the room.

'Yes,' I whispered.

She mumbled a prayer and blew air from her mouth on my face.

'Amma, why do you always do this?' I asked, narrowing my brows and folding the prayer mat.

'To keep you safe from buri nazar,' she replied. 'Amma, there is no negative energy surrounding me. I'm

safe as long as god is with me.'

'That is not a justified reply. Why don't you pray five times a day?' she asked.

'I will make it a routine very soon, Amma. Only a semester is left now. Then I will be free.'

'These are all your lame excuses.' She rolled her eyes.

'No, I'm serious,' I grumbled.

Out of habit, after returning from college, I usually met her and then Abba. He was reading a book in the library when he heard my footsteps.

'There you are!' He took off his spectacles and reached for my hand.

'Salaam, Abba jaan!' I sat on the floor beside his rocking chair.

'Walaikum Asalaam, did miyan come to pick you up on time?'

'Yes,' I replied.

'That's good,' he replied with a smile.

'Have you had supper?'

'Yes, your mother just gave me a cup of tea. Go and have something to eat.'

He took off his spectacles and pushed them above his head.

'When are your exams beginning?' he asked.

'From tomorrow.'

'Good luck with them and make me proud.' He smiled. 'Insha Allah.' I gave him a weak smile again and then walked out of the library.

I wanted to talk to him about so many things but refrained from uttering anything because I did not want to spoil his good mood. Abba's anger was as unpredictable as his mood.