“Last call for flight PK3507 to Islamabad,” the cool robotic voice announced over the speakers, sending my heart rate up by another hundred beats.

We hurtled towards the boarding gate and I kept praying, “Please, please God, let us make it. Please, this has to be the best vacation ever!”

As the boarding gate came into view, my elder brother’s feet, clad in brand new, neon orange sneakers slipped, sending him and the trolley bearing our luggage crashing into the desk beside the boarding gate!

My little sister Sara screamed, “Bhai!”

Thankfully, he was unhurt, but the hand-carry bag burst open, actually it was damaged beyond repair, revealing plastic boxes of frozen shami kababs and packets of nimco. There was no time to do anything except cram them into plastic bags and purses, and abandon the destroyed hand carry.

So when finally we collapsed onto our seats and the pilot repeated the prayer for travel, I added a dua of my own, “Thank you, Allah for letting us make it after everything that happened.”

Trouble had started as soon as our alarms had buzzed at 6am. The electricity went and the generator refused to roar into life. It turned out to be nearly impossible to navigate last minute preparations in pitch dark with only the help of mobile torches.

Suddenly, we heard a big thump as Sara fell over a suitcase and grazed her knee. In order to put bandage on her knee, we searched for the first aid kit. As we had already packed it in the suitcase, so all the suitcases had to be rifled through to find it. Ironically, it turned out to be in the same bag which Sara had tripped over.

Then my younger brother Ibrahim threw a tantrum when he decided at the last minute that he wanted to take his Lego kits with him, but was told he couldn’t.

However, by some miracle, we managed to leave the house only 25 minutes behind schedule. Just as I thought it was safe to relax, our Uber got cancelled!

My mother frantically tried to book another, but our neighbour saved the day by offering to drive us in his car. The car started its journey to the airport and all of us recollecting in our minds if we had packed this or that stuff.

Just when it seemed like nothing else could possibly go wrong, some factory workers decided to select that ‘particular day’ from all the other days, to stage a strike on the main road.

Our neighbour took another route and navigated through lanes bumpy enough to knock our teeth out and narrow to the point of scraping the side mirrors. Not unsurprisingly, we were the last people to check in.

But all’s well that ends well. We were on our way to a carefree week in Bhurban, miles away from the unforgiving Karachi heat. With a contented sigh, I pulled out my tablet and immersed myself in the eBook I had downloaded earlier. Having had no breakfast, I gratefully accepted the steaming biryani, minty raita and fizzy drink from the air hostess.

At that precise moment, the little boy sitting behind me kicked at the seat, jerking my hand and spraying a soft fizzy drink all over my lunch and clothes! That was the last straw that broke the camel’s back — I burst out crying!

“Zainab! What is it? Have some rice from my tray,” my grandmother comforted me.

“Dadi this trip is supposed to be perfect, but everything is going horrible up till now!” I choked as I spoke.

“Sweetheart, nothing is perfect in this world. Everything is part of Almighty’s plan, have faith in Him,” Dadi reassured as she hugged me.

Her words lodged deep in me and with a calming breath, I sat up and gazed out the window at the rolling marshmallow clouds. She was right, things had gone wrong and more would follow undoubtedly, but, nevertheless, the entire week with unseen adventure and fun was awaiting me!

Published in Dawn, Young World, August 31st, 2024