My mother was not feeling very well even before our wedding day but on the next day of our wedding she became very ill. She did not go with us to Peshawar on the wedding day due to her illness. We were very worried as there were no adequate medical facilities in the village. On the fourth day of our wedding we decided to take her to Peshawar for a check up. In a rented car we took her to Peshawar and got her admitted to the Lady Reading Hospital. We left Salima in the village with my sisters and some other relatives who were still there. This was a very trying time for us all.

I used to spend the day with my mother at the hospital and returned to the village in the late afternoon.
This went on for a few days. It was December when the days are short and the nights are longer. Moreover it was freezing cold weather. From Peshawar I would take a bus to Pabbi, a small town. From Pabbi to my village the distance is around 3 miles. There was no metal road in those days. On both side of this dirt road were open fields of Sugar cane and Corn plantation. These fields provided good hiding shelter to the fugitives and murderers who were on the run from the law enforcing agencies. Usually people living in the villages would not go out of their protected areas after sunset.

One day I was delayed at the hospital as there were some relatives who had come to see my mother. They advised me not to go to my village so late in the afternoon as it was not safe. I did not pay any
attention to their advice and took a bus to Pabbi. It was After Maghrib prayer when I arrived at Pabbi. An
Ahmadi physician had his surgery there. I called on him and had a cup of tea with him. He strongly advised me against going to the village at that time as it was not safe. He invited me to spend the night with him and go in the morning. He told me that there was no Tanga (A horse drawn cart) available at that time of the evening to take me to my village. But the pull factor of Salima was stronger than any danger that might lie ahead. I requested my friend to lend me his bicycle as the village was only three miles away. He tried his best to persuade me to desist from going to the village but I was determined to reach home at any cost. Reluctantly he gave me his bicycle. It was pitching dark and the dirt road was in a very bad condition. The visibility was hardly a yard. On top of it was the freezing cold. I did not have any gloves and was only wearing a coat and a blanket. On both sides of the road were fields of Sugar cane and Corn plantation. Cold and piercing wind was also blowing which was making the navigation more difficult. I was peddling hard but because of the rough road surface and turns my progress was very slow. After a little while I was in the grip of severe fear. I started cursing myself for taking such a stupid decision. I passed through two villages and was chased by ferocious dogs. In the December freezing cold I was sweating profusely. My hands felt like lumps of ice and my eyes were shedding tears due to the piercing cold wind. The more I peddled the more I was engulfed by the pitch darkness. The wind and the Sugarcane plantation created strange and dreadful noises. It looked as if I was surrounded by ghosts and demons.

I was hardly half way through when I heard someone asking me to stop. It was dreadful because I knew that the sugar cane fields were infested by fugitives and murderers. They would kidnap some one and then demand a high ransom. I was the Khan of my village and if I was caught they would demand a huge sum of money for my release. I could not raise my voice for help as there were no human beings in the vicinity. I had a revolver with me but could not use it as the voice had come from the dense fields. Moreover my visibility was almost nil. I did not answer the call of the fugitive and peddled hard to reach my village. The fugitive shouted that if I did not stop he will shoot me. My legs were almost numb by now and I was shivering badly. I was sweating so profusely that I thought as if I had taken a shower. I increased my speed but the road was so uneven and rough that the progress was minimal. I was now going away from the voice of the fugitive and my speed had increased. There was another warning from the fugitive who said he was going to shoot to kill if I did not stop. I ignored his warning and carried on. Suddenly there was a bang and the bullet of his gun fell about a yard away from me. I started reciting the Kalima and thought that I was going to be killed. Then there was another bang and this time the bullet fell in front of me. I shivered at the thought that if by any chance the tube of any wheel of my cycle was hit either by a bullet or a sharp stone then there was sure death for me. Thank God it did not happen. I was now further away from the fugitive’s range. There was a third bang but the bullet went astray. Now I could see some dim lights of my village. That was a ray of hope. In a little while I arrived at the outskirts of my village. I saw a few young men with guns in their hands. I stopped near them and was greatly relieved that they were my cousins who had come out for help as they had heard the three gun shots. I fell down from my cycle on the ground and fainted. When I opened my eyes I was comfortably tucked into a warm quilt and my sisters were massaging my body. Does it not show the great sacrifice that I gave for Salima in the so early period of my wedded life?