Ancestral Escapade

by Sarmad Mir (Pakistan)

A leap into the unknown Pakistan

"HURRY UP!" my dad shouted from the car. "We are going to be late," he added. "But— dad it's like 8:00 am— and this— is a trip we're heading to— not an interview," I slowly replied with multiple pauses, failing to engage my dad in a conversation to buy myself some time, while I was still tying my shoelaces. "Ready, let's go!" I said, for he couldn't stop honking the car. I stumbled towards the car with undone shoelace swinging back and forth, dragged against the ground. For some reason my dad is always in a hurry. That day, we were on a trip to Bansra Gali, Murree. Murree is a popular hill station in Pakistan and birth place of my dad, accounts for why he was excited to get there. Although it took approximately three hours to reach there, what really clicked was the journey with spectacular scenery of the hills around. I could see the abandoned buildings on the distant hills. I always saw my dad as a polymath as he had adequate knowledge about any subject that I broached. While we drove to our ancestral place, he concisely told me about the history of Murree, how the British troops took control of all the ministries and governed the state. He was quoting exact dates of the events. He had been a keen reader of history books since his youth. Nerd! Right? As soon as we got closer to the vicinity of destination, he got excited, overwhelmed with nostalgia, as I am now while reminiscing those joyous trips with my dad. He slowed the car, pointing towards an abandoned school building, "That’s where I studied till 6th grade before moving to Islamabad." he was overwhelmed and somehow I was too. It felt as if I was already familiar with that place. We drove to some distance and finally the destination arrived. We searched for a safe space to park and continued on foot, into the woods. As we progressed, the eeriness around exacerbated. It was day time yet felt like twilight, the trees and woods around obstructed the light from reaching below. I signed up for this adventure and couldn't back off, Otherwise I would be targeted by snarky remarks from my dad. The ancestral house was three rocks away. Apparently that's how my dad measured the distance. When he used to live there, he marked the proximity with three giant rocks. If we reach the third rock we gotta turn right and continue ahead. We followed that path and there were no signs of human life up until we reached the third rock. That's when I saw signs of civilization. A Kid playing around in mud buoyantly. My dad went up to him, he nodded saying "السلام عليكم (Peace be upon you)," and continued playing. "He resembles a guy I used to hangout with, from my childhood." my father said while he sifted the facial features of the kid. "What is your name?" my dad inquired. "Talha Mir," he replied. "Ahh! Mir family, I bet he is Safdar's son," my dad said as he walked in the direction of a nearby house. "This was our house which was built by my grandfather after migrating from which is now known as Occupied Kashmir. We lived here before moving to Islamabad." he said with sentimentality in his voice. My dad visited that place after 15 years. The house had been locked by my grandfather over a property dispute which is still unsettled to this day. While we were talking about the history of that house a distant voice reverberated "Aqeel." There was a person waving at us and my dad replied back with "Safdar." I felt as if I was seeing two exuberant youngsters meeting after a long time. They met after 20 years. They reminisced about their childhood and told me about this creature named Ghora Dench (shapeshifter) which was their urban legend. He would mostly pose as a rock. After hearing their tales It's safe to say that I was horrified. Avoiding every rock on our way back, I caught myself staring at this one rock whose contour resembled to that of a head. "HURRY UP!" shouted my dad.