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Buses are going to somewhere, Noise of their Horns and calling of their conductors, smoke of cigrette and a specific smell of Bus stop in Pakistan is filling my head. Beggars roaming around, sargents having cigarettes in hands talking to each other. Boys smiling and older people trembling on every push by crowd. A hurry in feet of beautiful girls and careful clever eyes of their mothers, Black Burqas and modern dresses at one place showing such a cultural diversity of this city, yes it is Lahore, capital of Punjab in Pakistan. It is not a travel story, No. It is story of self exploration done by me about 5 years ago. It was sunny day in Multan, Pkaistan dated 25th of October 2015. My result of FSc part first was going to be announced at 10:10 am. I along with my two first cousins was living in a hostel near my uncle's house because my village is 120 km away from Multan and my college was Govt Emerson College. So, it was little tense for me as i knew that i am not going to go well in my result and hopes of my parents are like Mount Everest and result would be like you know a stone rolling down the streets. Long story short, result came, and i went out of senses like literally. That was not expected, marks were too low and it was like a horrible dream, I needed a travel but to where. I thought and thought and thought. I went to my Aunt, asked for money, she gave me one thousand rupees, almost 10 dollars. And they were not enough for me to take me any where. But, I went to Bus station of Multan, directly in Dawoo bus service and asked for a ticket of Lahore. It's 7.40 dollars. And it started. I didn't tell anyone about my trip and i forgot my phone in my hostel too. So, Bus started. We travelled through Khanewal, Jhang, Faisalabad, Sargodha, Sahiwal and atlast Lahore. 6 hours Jorney was certainly boring one, started from 11 am to 5pm. Now i had no hotel booked, or money to live any where or even money to go back home. I had 2.60 dollars. I met with two sides of humanity there, for very first time i met with a very low class of pakistan working there but they were working hard, sleeping at slums, at cemented floor while smiling. I felt myself relieved. Result no long mattered. Some one picked my bag, it had my mobile sim and that was gone as well. But it also did not put any influence on me. I was watching people of night shift who were sleeping at side walks with happy faces, while taking "tez pati wali" tea. And smiling at each other. I met with a mother whose son went missing 5 years ago and she was searching for him everywhere. And then i thought, Man you are relieved now how to go back to Multan. I can't tell my father as he don't know where am I. And he will probably be furious at me. So I went to a guy who was sleeping next to me and was taking tea now. I told him every bit in detail. He was a hard man. He told me who's gonna believe you. So he asked me, your bag has been picked up? I nodded then he took me to Adda Manager and told him that this guy missed his bag, can you do him any favour. Adda manager wrote something at a page and gave it to me. My bus was at 11pm. These poor men which always were like no one for me were helping me knowing that i am not going to give them anything. They were not Hajjis, they were not Offering prayers, they didn't grow beard but they were human beings who knew to help their brother. And return was also a story worth sharing. One thing in last. Never do it. Because when i returned home. My father had a Chapal(shoes) in his hand and he was waiting for me. And rest is history.