The Writers' Circle

The sun's radiance was dazzling and it irritated my eyes. Its heat was intensely brutal to the annoyance of my sisters and me. A weak breeze occasional drifted in through the opened windows but mostly dust would enter the tiny van. My brother had lounged himself comfortably on the seat, where he conquered three people's spaces. My mother, who sat close to him, had cradled his head on her lap and was swinging a home - made fan back and forth, trying to cool him down. It was sizzling to sit there unable to even move, my sister's arm was wedged into my stomach, I felt so stuffy that at times I felt like ripping off my scarf. The van, which we had arrived on, was crammed with our luggage, and it was the worse part of our journey. I considered myself to be trapped between my two sisters and the bags which were spread beneath our feet like rugs didn't help either. When getting into the van, all of us kids immediately sprung into action and reached out for the seatbelts, however only my seat was equipped with one, and when I wrapped it round, my uncle chuckled and remarked, ' You don't need to wear a belt here, you're in Kashmir.' I was baffled by the carelessness of my uncle and when I looked at my father for support he gave me 'Just listen to your uncle' type of look and so I traveled the long 5-hour drive from the airport to our house without one. I couldn't help but laugh inside thinking that whenever there's an accident they always blame the driver, yet they don't take any precautions to prevent an accident. 
The conversation amongst my sisters and me was almost always about the comparison between England and Kashmir. During the drive I was consumed with thoughts of how much my cousins must have changed. We as a family were very close when we were younger but when we returned to England the thought of even calling them seemed bizarre. The ride couldn't be explained in simple words, everywhere I turned all that could be seen was poverty and beggars dotted round the roads in hope of getting a few rupees for a meal. They were dressed in filthy clothing and young children roamed the pavement with their hands laid out.  If one would by any chance come close to the van my uncle would give them 100 rupees, which were equal to just under one pound. I was hoping to catch up on my sleep but the bumps and sudden turns made it impossible for anyone to snooze off. And so for the whole journey I fiddled with my iPod, switching from Britney to Take That.  My mum had insisted that I don't take it along but I did anyway so I could prevent myself from having any Kashmiri culture rubbed on me during our stay. 
     When we finally arrived, I turned my iPod off and shoved it into my handbag. My dad, who had stuck his head out of the window throughout the majority of the drive, claiming he was breathing in 'heavenly air', was quick to jump out of the van and embrace our relatives. He had sweaty patches under his arms but he was far too happy to finally get to see the place he was raised in, to worry or even feel humiliated. Most of the people lined in front of us had probably been standing there for hours because they looked relieved to see us. And come to think of it they also had sweat on their foreheads; this made me a little comfortable knowing I wasn't the only one with the problem. 
     I anxiously crawled out of the van tugging at my bags. No one was really paying much attention to me or my sisters, they were all gushing over how much my brother had grown and my aunt was over the moon to meet my mother so she was able to juice every piece of gossip the UK had to offer. I slowly turned around to see the house my dad had spent so many years on, and I was stunned at what I saw. The house was like a Disney palace. The beautiful floor wasn't hot enough to burn our feet but it was a cool as ice, giving us a bit of relief from the excruciating heat we had been exposed to. The floor had even been decorated with delicate patterns of strange shapes and the colors just rose up from the floor and instantly attracted my eyes. The front entrance was also decorated with tiny pieces of glass glued together to spell out a holy message. Our family friends had hand - picked flowers and had displayed them in front of us, spelling, 'WELCOME'.  The massive building was as high as it could go. Balconies were placed around the whole of the first floor and pots of rare flowers where positioned carefully on the edges. The whole of the house was surrounded with greenery and generously placed plants shadowed one side of the house. The gate was large and extremely heavy to even move. 'Let me do that for you.' One of the girl said giggling as she opened the gate for me without using any force whatsoever. The girl's English wasn't as good as I thought it would be but I appreciated the fact that she tried. My youngest sister strolled off with the girl both chatting and gossiping about events that had taken place since our last visit, 10 years ago. I waddled my way over to my mum and dad, who introduced me to my granddad and aunt, whom I couldn't even remember ever talking to. My aunt welcomed me with tight hugs and sloppy kisses, whilst my granddad gave a small tap on my head, ruining the hairdo my friend had taken 2 hours on. 
     I glanced over the crowd of people waiting to greet my parents and I saw countless mountains and hills spread as far I as could see. I saw tiny houses perched near the edges, houses that were near to their end. They were probably made from basic cement and bricks with no paint coating the inside. I climbed up a wall and leaned over wondering what could be on the other side and when I did half a dozen eyes gawked at me from below. The animals had been let loose to have their breakfast, trying to avoid looking at the animals I turned my attention to the fields. 'They're all ours you know.' My dad said proudly. He then started to boast about the land that my grandfather had owned, and it would be interesting to hear if it wasn't the millionth time hearing it. A mass of crops was piled neatly on the side of the field and an enormous banana tree accompanied it, shading the crops from the sun with its massive leaves titled over them.  The smell of the area was so strong that I had to climb down the wall to avoid myself from fainting. I wasn't sure what the smell was of, it could have been the smell of all the animal poo from below or it was the 'heavenly' aroma my dad was eager to get a whiffed of.
 I plugged in my iPod and stuck the headphones in my ears.  I had only just got to the middle of the song when my mum grasped it and instead gave me something to eat, til this day I still haven't been told what it was. But it left the foulest taste in my mouth; however I gulped it down in a second to avoid hurting my aunt who stood staring at me. When she turned her back, I pulled a face and automatically snatched my sister's water bottle and drank as fast as I could. The sound of people talking and the laughter buzzed in my ears, but on the other hand when I concentrated I could hear the beautiful sound of birds singing. The rare breeze swished the leaves of the trees echoing the calming sound throughout the mountains. 
     'Hey touch this,' my youngest sister had brought a large dog from out of the blue and made me jump. She laughed and encouraged me to touch the ear of the dog, even when she knew I was terrified of dogs. 'Don't, leave the dog, man.' My uncle had ran from a distance and grabbed the dog and gave it to one of the servants to tie it up again. He then explained it was trained to bite any stranger it sees. My uncle's attempt of using slang wasn't very convincing as it sounded as if he said something completely different but it was nice knowing he had started to learn some English. 
     'The British are here, the British are here.' My sisters and me looked up to see six girls running around grabbing their scarves. They looked embarrassed when they realized that we had heard them. All of them one - by - one came down from the stairs as my aunt gave them a scowl. It felt weird to think that the friends who we were close to now thought of us just as the British girls. When they walked towards us it was like watching a vegetable parade, because all six were as red as tomatoes. They stood in line, and for a while we stared at each other not knowing what to say or what to do. My eldest sister made the first move and greeted them with Salaam, a religious way of saying hello. And no sooner one of the eldest girls brought out her hand and extended it towards me expecting a formal handshake.