My travel story

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In my childhood when roads were not good the journey towards my native city was long. In those days Motorway was not constructed and eight to ten hours of journey through grand trunk or GT road (South Asia’s oldest and longest major roads) left my parents exhausted. On the other hand we children remained energetic for the mere idea of meeting with cousins and uncles kept us excited.

With time lot has been changed but my nostalgic feelings towards my city and late grandma’s house remained same.

It’s been some time that we wanted to take break from our monotonous hectic routines and this past week when our parents decided to arrange a trip to Attock, I and my sisters got excited.

It was early in the morning when we started our journey.

Province of Punjab is known for it green fields and as we were travelling between its two cities, we saw many beautiful scenes.

After every ten to twenty kilometers, I very much liked to stop and wanted to capture pictures of every scene but my mother reminded me that it would slow down our speed for at home the lunch was ready and every one was anxiously waiting for us.

In golden gleam of October sun, the road ahead was shining. I saw many villages where farmers were busy working in their fields while their cattle were enjoying eating food.

I saw workers along the road were busy in painting tree trunks white. At that time I didn’t understand but later I came to know they were doing this to protect tree bark from splitting and cracking.

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While the car was travelling on Motorway, I captured this image. White painted trees are visible in this picture.

After four hours we left Motorway and covered rest of the distance through GT road.

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I like this canopy of green leaves. The road ahead was looking neat.
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Sitting in front of car my mother kept on reminding me that my phone was not good to capture images but when I saw these horses and couldn’t resist capturing this picture.

This year on August 6, while writing a post on my blog,  I unconsciously mentioned my desire to observe reflection of sunlight in sea and this past week when I visited Attock river, I captured this effect of sunlight in water.

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I was happy and amazed for this picture is very near to the picture I saw somewhere on internet.

My favorite moment of family gathering is moment of picnic. We were some thirty people who went to river Attock and to river Haro on two different days.

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On that bright day the sun was shining. In the pictures the river looks calm but due to its unpredictable level it was dangerous to go near.

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On that day, I didn’t wear my joggers and in order to cross this mountain of sand, I took off my sandals. Sand was warm but I enjoyed my walk.

This is an old Attock bridge that was built in 1883 during English rule in subcontinent. The upper level of bridge is still in use for train movement. It’s been some time that the lower level of bridge is not in use for heavy traffic but still motorbikes and cycles from nearby villages use this bridge.

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While we were getting ready for picnic, we heard the sound of tain. I immediately got hold of my phone and tried to make small video on my phone.

What you give is what you get. We waved hands at the passengers in train. They looked grateful and waved back at us.

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Sitting on a rock, I particularly enjoyed feeling the sensation of cold water on my feet.

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While looking at the foamy waves of water, I silently thanked God for making the world beautiful.

Attock Fort is an important historical place which was built during Akbar reign from 1581 to 1583.

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In this picture the outer wall of Attock fort is visible. It’s been a long time that visitors are not allowed to go inside.

It’s been some time that I read somewhere that a person who don’t know about his family roots is not confident in practical life. I have myself experienced that whenever I get a chance to meet with my extended family, I feel myself fresh and more confident.

I’m grateful to God Almighty for this blessing of beautiful blood relations in my life.

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A fun filled day

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There’s a scene in a Home Alone movie where the family members after getting late from their flight were shown running on airport. Today, we were not on airport but when mother was worried about cooking food and I and my sister needed to get shoes; on entering mart in order to save time, we all three were mentally prepared for running.

It was twelve in the noon when we left home for market. Father wanted to have food prepared for some colleagues in his office and to make some special dish, mother needed to get chicken and vegetables for kitchen.

The shoe shop was on the way to mart and though, time was short, I and my sister also accompanied mother. First my sister bought some canvas shoes for her college. Now, she’s never satisfied and takes long in choosing shoes and when after spending some twenty minutes she finally chose her shoes, I and my mother took a sigh of relief.

Later, on entering mart we grab hold of trolley and noticing the presence of people, we dropped the idea of running and opted for brisk walking.

At one moment, when I and my mother were moving trolley, I asked my sister to lend a hand but she being a medical student refused saying that it seemed as if some orderlies are moving stretcher in hospital.

Nonetheless, I admired her foresightedness.

In normal circumstances mother like a stroll in park prefer to spend some time in observing things in mart but today when the clock was ticking fast, we all three took hold of bags and started putting vegetables in them.

The scene was something like this, I was asking, “Where’re cucumbers?” and my sister getting panicked was saying, “I can’t find coriander!” and then we both helping each other running to get our desired vegetables.

Today, it felt as if the counter boy was not willing to work and escalators appeared as if they were not moving at all.

Back at home, I helped my mother and when the clock struck two p.m. the food was ready to serve.

With lots of running, it was a day full of fun and excitement and right now when I’m recalling the events of this day, I’m convinced that we need not to waste our time in searching for happiness, for these are little moments and unexpected events that can bring laughter in our lives.

(I and my sister preferred different shoe shops and on the way back home, I also got shoes for myself 🙂  )

Happiness is…

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Silky, soft and sunny side up fried egg is a treat to watch. For me the happiness is to see this perfect shape fried egg.

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Happiness is to help my younger sister in her studies. My sister is in ninth grade, she has to appear in board exams this year. In the beginning she was facing some problems but these days when she’s showing good grades in her tests and is looking calm and relax, I’m happy for my sister is happy.

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Happiness is feeling the scent of washed laundry. In the warm summer putting washed laundry on cloth line feels refreshing.

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Happiness is discovering some drama by chance and later finding it to be of high quality. The enjoyment gets double when family members also joined you in this adventure. It’s fun to watch your favorite play and later to read its quotes on imdb.

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Happiness is to wake up in the middle of the night and find it’s still time before your alarm clock goes off. The priceless moment in the morning when someone is in the washroom and waiting for your turn you take a deep sleep is sure a moment of great satisfaction.

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Happiness is eating corn, happiness is eating tomato with salt.

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Happiness is to read some old posts on your blog.

Happiness is to find some time for writing after a hectic day and last but not least, happiness is to go through some old conversation in your comment section.

It makes you feel to realize the fact that if there’s anything important in life then it’s our connections.

While conversing with people around the world, the experience I’ve gained is a continuous source of joy and happiness for me 🙂

Immortal love

Stories are on streets, stories are on leaves but my story is different, it’s been weaved in yarn sweater. Thirty years ago, my grandma made it for me and today when my daughter wore it, it was still looking new.

Never before in my life, I had ever realized but it’s true that at times, tales of love and care become immortal.


This post is in response to Three Line Tales, Week Thirty-Three by SonyaThe photo is a courtesy to Philip Estrada.

 

Me and my father

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Wendy Suzuki professor of neural science and psychology at New York University shares her experience of dealing with her father’s condition of dementia.

Telling about her traditional Japanese family, Wendy says

“You can think of us as a Japanese American version of Downtown Abbey, without the accent, the servants or the real estate. That’s us. So when the time came, Mom and Dad packed me up in the car and drove me there and – again, Downtown Abbey- we didn’t hug. We just wave goodbye.”

Reading Wendy’s version about the importance of expressing love in life, I thought about my own parents and the way they have raised us. In my memory my father appears as a man who always remained busy in his work. On the other hand, my mother being a house wife spent a lot of time with us and we the kids remained naturally closed to her.

I was in my third grade when I started facing difficulty in mathematics and the day before my exam my father proposed that in order to help me in preparing for my paper; he would take me with him to his office. But, there was that wide gap between us that I as a kid was reluctant to go with him and with some mixed feelings of reluctance and fear, I tried to make some protest but to no avail.

I remember my mother reminded me that I must listen to my father and try to write my solution neatly, for while solving my division sums I was in a habit of creating mess on paper.

Those were the days when my father hadn’t started working from home yet. So, being an IT consultant he visited many offices on that day.

All day long, I remained with him and while working on computer and in the midst of solving queries in program, he would find some time and would write sums for me to solve on my notebook.

Writing a question in his neat handwriting, he not only taught me how to solve a problem but also taught me to write neatly.

On that day, I observed my father closely. He wasn’t that much strict. For, wearing the cloak of seriousness my father was hiding a kind and considerate heart.

He was worried about my studies and when I scored A+ in my paper, my mother was happy and my father appeared extremely satisfied.

Going back to Wendy’s story, her father started to loss his memory and Wendy thought of a plan. With little bit of hesitation, she would start her conversation with these three words of “I love you” and her parents would respond in a similar way of “I love you too”.

The day her father recalled his last conversation with her was the beautiful day for Wendy. She was sure that the mere words of “I love you” had brought change in their lives.

That was Wendy’s experience and my experience of life has taught me that parents not always need to use these three words. True, the words can make difference but then action bring people close to each other.

Today, my father is still a same kind of person. He’s quiet by nature and for most of the time remains busy in his work. He likes to maintain discipline and he wants the house to remain clean and trying to keep his things in order , I and my siblings enjoy doing his work. For, he doesn’t express but we’re aware that he loves us all.

 

My brave friend

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My father wanted to see me strong but throughout my childhood I continued to remain a frightened boy. Today, I’m an altered person but that change in my personality is due to an accident.

On one foggy day, I and my friend went for a morning walk when a pack of wild dogs attacked us. The mere sight of furious dogs made me to shiver and losing my control, I fell on the ground. The next moment, I saw my friend providing me a shield but the dogs confronted him. I remember them locking their jaws around his neck and to this day, I’m ashamed of my decision.

I ran for my life.

Sitting beside the window, I’m watching the melancholy shades of late afternoon sun. It’s been ten years now but the memories of that incident are still fresh.

I remember reading that only a horse is known to weep for its dying master but today the master is crying for his faithful friend.

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Back in June 2015, I wrote this piece for Flash Fiction for Aspiring writers.

The things that do attain love

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The love of parents for their children is unconditional. There’s no jealousy involve in this relationship and my mother never forgets to mention it. She’s very right in reminding us this message again and again, for we the children often forget it.

The other day, I was reading the poem the things that do attain love which somehow reminds me of a large collection of pictures in my home. There’s this vivid memory from my childhood when my mother would dress us in nice and colorful clothes. Those were the days of photographic film cameras. Mother didn’t want to waste that film. So, she asked us to clap or laugh.

The whole exercise was meant to make the picture memorable and when all the pictures were taken, the film was sent to develop and then the long hours of wait started.

That was the pure and unconditional love and “Henry Howard” explains it in these words

MY friend, the things that do attain

The happy life be these, I find:

The riches left, not got with pain;

The fruitful ground; the quiet mind;

 

The equal friend; no grudge; no strife;

No charge of rule, nor governance;

Without disease, the healthy life;

The household of continuance;

 

The mean diet, no dainty fare;

Wisdom joined with simpleness;

The night discharged of all care,

Where wine the wit may not oppress:

 

The faithful wife, without debate;

Such sleeps as may beguile the night;

Content thyself with thine estate,

Neither wish death, nor fear his might.

Neither wish death nor fear his might: this is the most beautiful message here. Do you feel the same? What other message in the poem do you like?

Things we leave behind

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Heidi by Johanna Spyri is an excellent work of literature. I remember reading it in my childhood and the process of rereading it brought tears in my eyes. I assume Heidi was a lucky girl that finally got reunited with her grandfather but everyone is not as lucky as Heidi.

I’ll be honest, I’m really trying hard to put off all those old memories aside but I had little control over my subconscious. So, in spite of all my struggles, the memories of my old home always find their way in my dreams.

Like Heidi’s house my home also appeared to gleam in golden sunshine. I can vividly recall the beauty of those green shrubs and flowery bushes. How can I forget those sweet songs of sparrows and how can I neglect those green leaves that were home to many birds?

Like Heidi, I was associated with that home. That house meant everything to me. Those walls were my best friends. Playing, fighting and studying together, we spent a long span of sixteen years together.

The place witnessed many special moments of my life. I moved into that house as a school girl and left that place as a university graduate.

Those were some sad prospects in which we had to leave that place and while typing these words on my laptop, I’m sure that Heidi and I’ve got one thing in common and that is our love for our home.

Heidi beats me as she succeeds in getting back to her home.

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writing 101 prompt: Things we leave behind

Story of a wedding dress

It was the third time that her door was knocked.

Hey, we’re getting late”, she heard her sister’s tumultuous voice.

I’m just coming”, after a moment’s pause she replied.

Outside everyone was ready but she was not in a hurry. Standing stock-still in front of mirror she was looking at the black dress that was lying on her bed. Tears were rolling down and she was thinking about those days when she loved to wear only white. Her mother often got angry but her father used to take her in his arms and said, “Don’t scold my little daughter. She’s my white fairy.”

Such was her sweet reveries and that very day was the reality. Her wedding dress was a gift from her in-laws. It’s been four hours and she was still hearing the echo of her mother’s voice

Black is your husband’s favorite. He doesn’t like to see you in white.

(153 words)

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This post is a response to Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. Thanks to Sonya for the picture prompt and many thanks to PricelessJoy for holding this event.

Dear Papa

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Dear Papa,

The warm and bright sun tried its best but it failed to make me smile. Today, I was missing you and was crying a lot.

Everyone was trying to make me laugh but I only smiled and wiped my tears off when mama whispered in my ear that she was baking croissants for me.

The croissants were so delicious. I didn’t count but I believe that I ate lot of them and only stopped when a servant came with a huge package.

Mama opened it and I couldn’t believe my eyes. Papa, it was a doll house. Do you remember that I was asking you to get me one? But, I’m confused. You have told me that every package contains the name of its sender but there was no name written on it.

I was asking mama and she was smiling. Perhaps, it’s a gift from fairy; for, mama thinks that I’m behaving really well these days.

Papa, I’ve learned my tables. I’m brushing my teeth twice a day and I never forget to clean my room.

There’s a lot to tell and much to share.  I wish you could saw that large cake with my name written on it.

Mama says that you’re busy in serving the nation. I don’t know what she means but what I really know is that that I only want you to be here with me.

Mama is calling me to bed and I need to stop writing now.

Love you papa

Yours daughter