January, 2007, Peshawar : Me, Maj and D are in hostel. It's late at night. Past midnight and I am bored. My classes will start at 12 tomorrow and I need a distraction. Begham baba. I've heard this name. A mazar in the middle of tahkal qabristaan, right next to airport runway. >

I've been told there is a malangi program there but I am not sure of the day. Today is Wednesday. I convince my Maj and D the program takes place on a Wednesday. They reluctantly agree to go. We take a taxi from peshawar uni to takhal. The taxi wala gives us a strange look when>

..we ask him to drop us in the cng station in front of the qabristaan. We are young, full of energy and have a complete lack of common sense. We enter the qabristaan. It's a sprawling big graveyard. Pitch black and the fog is starting to settle. One of us has a Nokia 1100, it >

..has a flashlight. We use that to guide us. D is the most intelligent of us all. He suddenly says what the hell are we doing guys? I laugh it off. Wrak sha mara begham baba la zu(dafa ho begham baba ja rahay hain). A dog howls. Maj is quiet. He doesn't want to appear afraid>

..but all of us are. It's been about 10 min and we are probably lost in the fog and and the darkness. D has gone completely berserk. "You freaking idiot, you a--hole, you're going to get us all killed" he shouts... I see a light in the middle. A dim light. "There it is guys>

..I told you it's on a Wednesday night." We follow the light. The irregular placement of the graves makes walking through them difficult. The air is heavy and cold and very, very quiet. The light grows closer but it is still dim. It's a small 100 watt bulb's light.>

>there is no program on a Wednesday. It's on a Thursday night. I always knew it. I can remember it clearly. Why did I make them come then? We walk closer to the light. We need a way out. But we need to catch our breath first. The cold and the anxiety has quietened us. 3 men. >

>we see 3 men squatting on the ground. One of them has an injection in his hand. The other is holding the pipe used with medical drips. They see us. We see them. I am supposed to say something. What? What am I supposed to say? One of them gets up. "Da speeno jaamo peeran ralal">

>"the peers in the white clothes are here."

There are moments in life where everything hangs in a delicate balance and we are supposed to choose which path our lives takes. Where the clarity of our actions is crystal to us. This was that moment.

I look around. Me,maj and D are>

>wearing white clothes. We are in the middle of hundreds of graves, in the middle of the night, and there are 3 men in front of us who were expecting us?! Peshawar is my city. I owe myself to peshawar but at that moment,in the middle of it, peshawar looked so far away. >

"chai skay?"(want tea?) The one standing asks. I grab D by the hand. "Let's go". The two sitting laugh. Their laughter grows into shrieks. "Esaar shay
Peer saib staso pa tama oo"(wait, we were waiting for you) I ask maj to lead the way. We have to go in a line.The path is narrow>

.. All three of us know exactly which way to take. We are being led, by our short term memory? By fear? By something else? we see the lights of the cng station. We are close to the exit. D and Maj start running. I am trying to stay calm. I am beginning to think clearly. "Man >

..these two are gonna be so angry at me." The exit is a steel gate, it is broken but still retains the shape. Just a few meters from the exit, it hits me. The coldest air I've ever felt. Have you ever been punched so hard in your chest you forgot to breath. It's that. The cold>

>traveling deep within my bones. The lights of the cng station are so close but I can hardly focus on them. I straighten my back and try take a deep breath. I take a step. Then another. And as I'm stepping over the gate, i hear the softest, most playful voice I've ever heard...>

"You could've stayed"