Syra Amir loves travelling the world. So it helps that she works as a photojournalist for a popular travel magazine.
So when she accidentally selects the wrong destination when booking a flight, she decides to go with the flow and travel to this pla...
Tell Rachel Fox that you give up. If she fires you, so be it.
I was preparing to give up. I was tired. This daily travelling between Islamabad and Khwabpur was annoying me now. And now I was at a dead end at what was once an exciting project. I sat up and grabbed my phone, ready to email my boss.
But then I thought about how Jannah had told me that we had met the son of the village folklore couple. I'd actually told my mother about my new project, and let's just say that she wasn't very impressed.
"Syra, you're not talking about a historic event that occurred a hundred years ago! You're talking about that poor boy's family! Don't be one of those people who earn by exploiting someone's personal life!" She had said.
"Oh God, Mum, why are you making me sound like a tabloid vulture?"
"Because that's what it sounds like what you're doing. Do not earn by causing someone hurt or anguish, Syra."
I had felt guilty since. I was a photojournalist, not someone who exposed someone's life or family history. Mum was right. I did seem like a tabloid 'reporter' by considering this project.
My phone rang and I saw that it was Jannah calling again. Before answering, I muttered, "Jannah, don't cause me to go to Jahannum by unintentionally hurting someone." I answered the call. "Hey."
"Hey, Syra! Guess what?"
"What?"
"I forgot to tell you but the village is hosting a kite event today. A lady invited me."
"A kite event? Like basant?"
Basant, as far as I knew, was a spring festival of kites, famous across Punjab in both Pakistan and India.
"Well, kind of, except that it's limited to their village."
"Isn't that banned in Punjab?"
She scoffed. "Who is gonna come and raid a small village for flying kites? Especially when the chief of the village organises this event." She paused. "But listen, dress desi."
"Why?" I wrinkled my nose.
"Let's enjoy a proper desi festival in a desi way!"
*
I went out and brought an outfit from a designer store that was just down the road from my hotel, having no other choice. It was a white Anarkali dress with a tea pink dupatta that had white and green floral patterns. I wore the metallic silver bangles that my Sumaira Khalla had once got me from Lahore.
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