This must've been around 2008. It was a weekend but I didn't want to go home. One of my closest friends hails from Tangi, right on the border between Charadda and Momand agency. He said we could go to his village to spend the night. Why not? I didn't know the word No back then.>

We had dinner, prayed in the adjacent mosque and then went back to hujra. some local guys were called and played the rabab. We sang tappey and made a lot of noise. It was time to sleep. Must've been around 1. My friends uncle came and said it would be better if we slept in the>

>adjacent mosque. The hujra had a connecting door to the mosque through a backalley, but it struck me odd. I lookes at my friend and he nodded at his uncle understandably. We went to the mosque but I wasn't comfortable sleeping there. The hujra had comfortable charpais. I wanted>

>to sleep there but I didn't say anything. We went to the mosque but I finally told my friend I'll go back to the hujra and sleep in the veranda. He looked at me said please don't. I heard the tone and it sounded afraid. I didn't answer. He started leaving. He was to sleep at >

>his uncle's home behind the hujra. But he knew me. He knew I wouldn't stay, a lifetime of making the wrong decisions just at the right time had led me here, and he knew that. He turned around and said, "whatever you do, don't turn towards the lawn". I smiled. >

>it has never been easy for me to fall asleep. But that night it was. The slow breeze, the dim moon on the cloudless night, the faraway voices of the cows mooing at intervals. I turned towards the wall with my back to the lawn slept like a baby. >

It must've been around 3 am when my eyes opened. The first thing I noticed was how pitch black it was. Nights in villages aren't pitch black. Not when the moon is up. on a cloudless sky. The second thing I noticed was the sweat was the sweat. Each sense was coming but slowly.>

>i was drenched in sweat, cold merciless sweat. And that's when i heard it... Takk takk...takka takk...takk takkk takk... The faint voice of a tabla being played. It wasnt even being played. As if somebody was warming it to be played. There were only two voices. The tabla and >

>my heartbeat. My heart was beating in every vein of my body. "Don't turn around", "don't turn around", i remember what he had said to me. I wanted to know the time. I wanted to know how long I had before the fajr azaan. i wanted to see my watch but my hand wouldn't move.>

>the tabla voice was drowning in the noise of my heartbeat and these deep breaths that were trying to keep me calm. And then they started to grow louder. There was a tone of mischief in the music. Dabb dabb...dabba dabb... Coming closer now. "Don't turn around" he had said.>

The voices, the noise, they were all together now. I couldn't differentiate between the heartbeat, the breathes or the tabla anymore. They were raging an orchestra and I was staring into pitch black darkness and I wanted to turn around. Oh how I wanted to turn around.>

And then everything stopped. "Don't you like our music?" They said, "why won't you look at us?" I heard "Turn around and we'll play the symphony of your heart, you'd like that wouldn't you?"

"you should've slept in the mosque, you're like them, like everyone else"

"paasey na, sahar munz la?"(wake up for fajar), The uncle said. "Tang karhey ey wey?"(did they tease you?)

"Who.. what was that?"
"That was this hujra, talking to you, that's why i asked you to stay in the mosque."