Chapter 1 — Beginning of My Vacations
“Assalamualaikum!” I shouted as I rushed into the house, practically jumping with joy.
Usually, I would grab food from the fridge, heat it up, fill up my bottle, and then retreat to my room to eat in peace. But today was not like any other day. My university’s final semester exams had just ended, and I could not have been happier. So I went to my room first, set down my bag and bottle, grabbed my food, and opened my laptop to finally start the K-drama I had been dying to watch but had restrained myself from during exams. I had just clicked on the DramaCool website when my parents walked into the room.
“Mehmil, we really don’t have any time. You know our flight is tomorrow night. You should finish your packing so I can weigh the bags,” my father said.
I buried my face into my pillow and dangled my legs in the air. After ages, I was finally getting some rest, and now this. Though if I was being honest with myself, a small part of me was also quietly excited about the trip. As someone with sinusitis, long flights had always been a nightmare for me, and I had never been particularly fond of travelling. But I was lowkey looking forward to this one. We were going to attend a wedding in Skardu, a city nestled in Gilgit-Baltistan, famously known as heaven on earth. The flight from Islamabad to Skardu was also said to be one of the most scenic flights in the world, and even my stubborn heart had to admit that it was something worth experiencing.
So I closed my laptop and turned to my packing checklist. I had already packed my clothes, skincare, makeup, jewellery, and everything important, but something felt missing. My eyes roamed around the room, landing on the shoe rack.
“Chappal! (shoes)” I exclaimed to myself.
I rushed to my shoe rack and began pulling out my kolhapuris (types of slipper), stuffing them into a shopping bag before quickly realizing they would get squished and misshapen. I carefully tucked the newspaper into each pair to hold its form. Anyone who knew me knew that my love for kolhapuris and Payals (anklet) went beyond reason, beyond logic, and perhaps even beyond good sense. I smiled to myself, now content with my packing.
The reason for this trip was a little complicated to explain, but I will try.
My grandfather, may Allah grant him the highest of heavens, had only one brother. My great-grandparents had taken this brother in as an orphan when he was very young, and the two boys grew up together, completely inseparable. Later in life, my grandfather’s brother moved to Gilgit for work, married a woman from there, and built his life with his children and then his grandchildren far away in those mountains.
Because of how deeply close the two brothers had been, my grandfather would visit their family every single summer without fail, right up until the end of his life. He passed away three years ago. Since then, my father had kept in touch with their family, though work had never allowed him to visit. Now, at last, an occasion had brought us together. The eldest grandson’s wedding had arrived, and their family had extended an invitation with such warmth that it would have been unthinkable to say no. They had asked us to come and stay in their home, and not just for a few days but for two whole months.
Personally, I had mixed feelings about this. I worried it would be a burden on their family, especially with a wedding already on their hands. But my father had looked at me and said, “The worst thing we could do is refuse someone who is inviting us with their whole heart.” And I guess he was right about this.
