How Travel Cured Arooj’s PTSD

I remember the night mother left us. She packed a brown hemp bag and stormed out without pulling the scarf over head, something she would never do otherwise. My 5 year old sister and I stood at the door while my father yelled in our parent’s bedroom. Each time they fought we could hear them yell. I would try and distract Zoya who was too young to understand what was happening. But, it seemed she would somehow sense it. And the noises, of vases breaking, photo frames being thrown on the floor, they weren't subtle either. I was old enough to understand what was happening, or at least understood the dynamics of it, but wasn't old enough to do anything about it. Occasionally I would take Zoya out if my parents were arguing, that came with the condition of returning home before sunset. And once we were limited to home, the space could not afford to contain our parents' quarrels, even as we were well off financially. The night my mother left was the worst. That morning, she remained awfully quiet, she would normally insist on communicating during ‘family time’. She threw a plate at my father at some point. The whole scene is a bit blurry, but I remember my mother using a very vulgar word to describe my father. I have never seen my mother use foul language before or after that. Father was bleeding, though he dropped us off at school before going to a pharmacy.

They were still fighting when we came back. It had only gotten louder. My grandfather was present too. He embraced us and took us to the kitchen. Mother had married father when she was fifteen and had me at sixteen. She constantly mentioned her age arguing with father, along with the fact that she had abandoned her education because of him and now wanted to get back to studying after a decade-long hiatus. After mother left, father barely left his room. He would either be drunk, high or both. Mother went to Dubai and would call us every evening. At 10 years of age, I became a mother to my younger sister. And perhaps, she was the only reason I stayed for that long.

As we grew up, the silence in the house grew louder. I lost sleep soon after my mother left. And then there were the nightmares. I saw Zoya and me caught in a fire, there is no one else, but there are screams, loud and chilling screams. I hold Zoya’s hand and pray for an escape. The details would change but the theme remained the same. Sometimes, it would be a drowning ship, a falling aeroplane, or an out of control bus, but Zoya and I were the constants, two frightened little children. I would sleep and the scenes would jerk me awake. They went on for years. I didn't know who to turn to, so I kept it to myself for the first few. As I grew a bit older, I sought therapy, and most of them diagnosed me with PTSD. But I would never visit the same therapist for the second time.. I felt like I had been naked in front of them for the first one and now they saw me as this weak little girl who has trouble sleeping.

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Around the time I completed school from Hyderabad, Zoya had been sent to a boarding school for girls. For the first time in my life I was free. I could go wherever I wanted, though I had absolutely no idea what I wanted to do in life. To be honest, I had never thought about it. It was always about taking care of my father and more importantly, Zoya.

One day, while I was having tea with a couple of friends outside my campus, I noticed a tall, dark, curly haired south Indian boy looking at me. The staring would go on for a couple of more weeks before one of us could approach the other. And, contrary to the convention, it was me who went up to him and asked his name.  

“Nausid,” he said, grinning through his teeth. 

Before we realised we were living together. In a small apartment in Okhla. I made it a point never to ask money from my parents, despite the fact that either of them could afford more than I needed. I began working Part Time at a KFC. 

In the few months I had spent with Nausid, the nightmares had not troubled me as they had in the past. Then one night, I found myself in the same dream with Zoya and I fighting for survival. Studies felt like a burden. I stopped going to college, I just didn't have the strength in me. 

One day, as I sat in the room, smoking, I overheard Nausid telling someone he was short on money to start his agency. I had always wanted to travel and that is when it struck me. I had saved some money and could invest in his travel business and travel as much as I wanted to rather than sulk in a room.

The first trip we went to was to Kashmir. It was a seven day trek. We had a group of 12 tourists with us and a couple of local men with horses. We started from green lush meadows, in the middle of which we set our tents. The sun set behind the humongous pine trees stretching to eternity. And for the first time in my life I saw the night sky so full of stars. It almost felt like I could touch them. We sat around the bonfire and one of the tourists sang a song on his guitar. I didn't sleep that night, not because of the fear of nightmares, just because I wanted to. 

The next day, we left early, and started our journey upwards. One ridge after the other we jumped from one hill to the next of the Dachigam forest. The journey was long but did not feel arduous. Wild chickens jumped from one bush to another until we reached another meadow beside the river.

You could see beautiful horses running around the small wooden huts the nomads stayed in. The hills barricaded the meadow and a snow capped mountain peeked behind one of the hills. This meadow was at the end of the forest cover and the rest of the journey would be through rocks and river tributaries. 

I felt a bit feverish so didn't surround the bonfire as everyone else. I sat in the tent dimly lit by a torch behind my sleeping bag. As the tourists, local men and Naushid sang, I sat and wondered if this was what I was supposed to be doing all along. As I went through the pictures I had taken on the way, Naushid came in and asked me what I was doing. He looked at the pictures and suggested I use them for the blog. I had never realized, until then, that my habit of taking pictures of everything would come in handy for our business. But they did and continue doing so until this day.

On our third day, we hiked to the mountain that seemed so far when we started. It was the middle of July and a clear bright sky. On our way, we saw a frozen lake. The local men said it remained frozen throughout the whole year. Just as we reached closer to the peak, the clouds took guard over the mountain and turned the whole world dark. We could barely see each other. A thunderstorm followed and we took refuge in a cave. Few of the tourists were visibly scared. Fortunately we had taken enough supplies for the day and if used judiciously, we could easily survive a couple of days.

 

Surprisingly, even for myself, I wasn't scared. In fact I remember feeling at ease, as if I knew everything was going to be alright. The clouds did not relent though, for hours, as the evening turned into night. We had no option but to spend the night in the cave. As I watched the skies clear and the moon rise out that night, I didn’t realise how I fell asleep, and continued doing so for the rest of the trip.

Since then, each time I feel stuck in the nightmares, I take my camera and travel Kashmir, Ladakh, Himachal, or anywhere the mountains call me to.