I climbed the metal stairs and entered the plane, clutching a box that had caused me much discomfiture issues. It contained a gamming console named playstation which my younger brother had forcefully made me bring and I had particularly felt embarrassed being 17 years old and carrying around a box labeled PS2 out in public. I took a seat and tried to make myself comfortable, tried because the parachute seats that were crammed in a cargo plane are not meant to be comfy, and helped my younger brother onto one as well. I was set for my journey, to face a new chapter in my life. I remembered how my day had begun. Since morning everything had been hectic. I had deported my slumber on the voice of my grandfather. His tensed voice made it pretty obvious that something was up. His old fragile tensed voice had caught my attention before I could have even rubbed my eyes “you’re going to Karachi, get up and pack your things” I had jumped out of the bed and changed immediately. When I came out ready, from the washroom, my grandfather ‘Abu’ was talking to my dad conforming that both his children were now up. We were given a two hour deadline in which we had packed everything and set out for the air base. There a friend of my dad had rendezvoused with me and guided me how everything will take place and what I had to do next. He had gotten our bags checked in and handed us our boarding card and our V.I.P tag. My father’s occupational post had helped me on to many work perks and I for one had mostly felt guilty with one constant thought in my mind. “Do I deserve it more then that person there? What have I done to get this special treatment?” and the answer was very simple “NO and NOTHING”
Uncle Aziz, the friend of my dad, had left once he had helped us on to the bus and guided what to do after this. It was simple; I and my brother were to simply go into the waiting room after crossing a couple of checks. All this time I was talking to a very dear friend of mine Yusra with my mobile. She had not let me boredom get me. Once we made our way to the waiting area I saw two rooms one labeled “WAITING AREA” and the other “ONE STAR ROOM FOR RANKED OFFICERS ONLY” now even though Unvle Aziz had instructed me to go to the one star room, I stood there puzzled. “What would other people think??” but before I could come to a decision my younger brother, who was very eager to enjoy all these work perks, went straight into the one star room, where we were accompanied only by two V.I.P passengers.
Finally, after much waiting, we were directed to the plane, the cargo plane more commonly known as C-130 and is used for transport for goods and luggage. Again I among the very few was to get into the plane from the V.I.P door and many other good passengers from the cargo door. Here I exchanged a few good byes through mobile and was still chatting with Yousra and now Irfan, my best friend, and Saarim, my cousin as well. Mustafa, my younger brother, seated besides me. I placed the dammed PS2 box behind my seat so that no one could judge me.
At last the plane started to run and in time took flight after which I switched off my cellphone. The ride was very bumpy especially for me because my seat was directly perpendicular to the propellers. I squinted outside the window to give my beloved Islamabad one last look before we were soaring in clouds. It was at this moment when I took out my ipod and switched on transformers 3 so that time could fly by. There was nothing interesting in the flight, only one ‘aunty’ whose facial expression scared me and Mustafa to death. It seemed she would vomit on us any second from now. Every now and then there were bumps and feeling of the plane ascending and descending that built up pressure in my ears which was a fun experience as it seemed more powerful and intense when in hunger.
During the flight, the thought of my friends crossed my mind many times. For the past 6 years I was revolving from Islamabad to Pindi which are now considered the same cities due to there nonexistent distance. At my final year in Pindi I had made great friends. The thought of Irfan, Mubashir, Yusra and Rabia would just not leave my mind as communicating with them was a daily habit not to mention all my family is settled in Pindi. Of course this communication was to continue but there was a gap, a feeling of not being present near them which was very depressing for me. My father’s occupation is such that we move within Pakistan every few years and this had made me realize one thing- “life moves on” but this time I wasn’t ready for it to move on. I wanted it to remain where it was hovering at the moment.
The weather in Karachi was cloudy with a drizzle. It was dark and ominous, described my mood pretty well. It was easy to tell that it had been raining all morning. I stepped out of the bus where a man met me and my brother. He asked for our particulars and pointed us to where our staff car was parked. I glanced to my left where a lot of passengers were coming out from a separate bus. A familiar feeling of guilt stroked me again. I took my luggage and moved on to my car. The man was now telling Mustafa of Karachi and asking him about Pindi. I looked at the sky and my heart sank. There was no excitement no felling of happiness; only depression. This was the first time I had learned the hard way that Life moves on. I silently approached my car and glumly accepted my new life.
