“Rida! We’re late! Get dressed at once!” mum yelled. I blinked drowsily and sat up on the snowy white bed. Disentangling myself from the cosy duvet, I obediently stumbled into the washroom.

It was 6:30am, and like me, my poor brothers were bearing the brunt of mum’s irritation. It was the last day of our trip to Swat, at a five-star hotel there. Earlier on, we’d been staying in various motels for just under a week, but the last two days were spent at the luxurious guesthouse.

Our flight to Karachi would take off at 12:15pm sharp, and there was a solid four-hour drive to Peshawar ahead of us. We swiftly dressed, packed and met up with the rest of the family to enjoy a scrumptious breakfast before leaving behind the magnificent hotel.

“Are you sure that we have all our luggage?” my apprehensive grandmother questioned my mum.

“Yes Ma, we triple-checked. And even if we did leave something behind, the hotel will contact us,” my ever-patient mum replied.

My uncle was frantically pacing back and forth next to our useless van, calling people that evidently couldn’t help us, given the way he was sighing and throwing his hands towards the sky. The rather apologetic driver had confirmed that the engine had collapsed and there was no fixing it without a proper mechanic and new parts

My brothers and I, now fully awake, were in a perky mood, as were our cousins. The adults, which included my mum, grandparents, uncle and my aunt were busy snapping endless pictures of the breathtaking mountainside. Swat really is a beautiful place. I wish I’d remembered to keep my camera, I thought for about the millionth time.

I was jerked out of my daydreams by the sound of the excited voices of my cousins. They had just begun an intense, yet noisy game of snap with the new deck of cards purchased specially for this trip. After a few games, we started singing songs, anything that came to our minds. We were at the foot of the mountain, so we were now on proper roads instead of the rocky dirt paths higher up on the mountain. The scenery had changed completely, we were now flying past green fields and meadows, with the occasional grazing cows. We drove on, and eventually turned onto a road with a sign told us that it was the ‘Peshawar Highway. Leads to Airport and main city’.

I overheard the adults mutter about being late. It didn’t worry me, so I pushed the thought to the back of my mind.

“Oh come on! Isn’t there any taxi on this God-forsaken road!” My grandfather exclaimed in exasperation. My uncle was frantically pacing back and forth next to our useless van, calling people that evidently couldn’t help us, given the way he was sighing and throwing his hands towards the sky. The rather apologetic driver had confirmed that the engine had collapsed and there was no fixing it without a proper mechanic and new parts.

The women were sitting together and talking confidently among each other, trying not to worry the children. We, the kids, were huddled together, the older ones whispering comforting words to the younger ones. My youngest brother, who’d just understood the weight of the dilemma we were in, was wailing. The minutes were slipping by; fifty minutes, twenty-five minutes, forty minutes, we’d miss the flight at this rate!

Just then my cousin spotted a rusty van with ‘Taxi’ printed on the side. Before we knew it, we were on our way to the airport in this van instead.

Everyone was repeatedly checking the time as we progressed nearer and nearer to our oh-so-important destination. Anxiety was increasing by the second. We turned around another corner and glimpsed the airport! The driver urged the reluctant van forward but had to come to a screeching stop at the sight of the longest line of cars we’d ever seen!

Oh no! What were we supposed to do now? We waited, waited and waited some more. Cars were honking deafeningly around us, the impatient drivers yelling obscenities at one another; together forming a highly unpleasant chorus. An argument began inside the van. Everyone wanted to get out of the van and walk till the airport entrance like other desperate people around; my grandfather was very much against this idea.

Finally, he grudgingly gave in. So we hurried along the sidewalk with our luggage in tow, dashed through the security checkpoint and reached the check-in counter just as it was closing down, we heard the last call for our flight being announced just then; luckily we managed to get through it and find the correct terminal.

We relaxed only when we had sunk into the seats we’d been assigned. I sank further down into the plushy seat, completely drained of energy, as the captain’s voice filled the plane: “Attention all passengers, this is your captain speaking. We will be arriving in Karachi at…”

I didn’t hear the rest. I dozed off blissfully during the rest of this memorable journey.

Published in Dawn, Young World, June 15th, 2019