Travelling by public transport is something that we all dread for one reason or the other. Those who can afford to pay for travel by rikshaw or taxi or own private vehicles always sympathise with the less privileged, seen hanging from the sides of overcrowded buses. Even those who are lucky enough to find seats or space to stand upright inside the bus are considered to be the hapless lot, treated like sacrificial animals being taken to the altar.

I also had similar fears till the time I got a chance to travel to Sheikhupura from Lahore via a private bus dubbed 'rocket bus' two weeks back. The bus looked more like some abandoned wreckage than a vehicle. Though I had travelled extensively in vans and buses during my college and university days, I had almost forgotten what these travels had in store for the watchful observers.

During the journey that took almost one and a half hours to finish, proved to be a means to socialise with the populace, see death from point blank range, relish populist poetry printed on the exterior as well as interior of the bus, note down quotable quotes flashed across the window panes, listen to abusive criticism against government's domestic and foreign policies, hear commentaries on global politics centered around world's major powers to control oil reserves and what not.

This is in sharp contrast to what one experiences while travelling by luxury buses, taxis, private vehicles or aircraft. You pay more but have to sit motionless, speechless and to some extent senseless. The journey seems endless and the only activities to indulge in are reading the same newspaper or book again and again, keep staring at the roof of the vehicle and dos off. Whereas in case of travelling by rocket bus, time seems to fly by very fast and those riding it have myriad options to focus their attention on.

It all started with an early morning phone call from a friend from Sheikhupura who wanted me to accompany him to a government office in his district. In fact he knew that another friend of mine was posted there and was in a position to help him out in connection with a 'genuine problem.' This friend offered to come all the way from Sheikhupura to pick me from home and drop me back but I turned down the offer on grounds that it was wrong to bother a friend unnecessarily. I decided to reach Lahore Railway Station as soon as possible, park my motorcycle there and board a Sheikhupura-bound vehicle. Within fifteen minutes I was there.

"Try rocket bus, it would take you to your destination faster," was the response that came from a passerby from whom I sought advice on which vehicle to board. As I was about to ask him about the distinguishing features of a rocket bus, he pointed towards a big smoke-emitting vehicle approaching us fast and leaning towards its right. The bus slowed down when it came closer and the conductor yelled to all the prospective commuters to Sheikhupura to board immediately.

Without wasting a second, I ran towards the door and jumped into the vehicle. Fortunately, I was able to find a seat close to the driver's seat. The first thing I noticed while boarding the bus was the script that asked all those entering the bus to seek forgiveness for their sins as this might be their last journey of their life. After having travelled for fifteen minutes, I thought about suggesting the driver to change the script slightly but dropped the idea later. To me the script read: "Seek forgiveness for your sins as this driver is going to ensure that this is the last journey of your life."

I soon found myself overhearing a conversation between an aged vendor selling roasted lentil and the passengers. He was offering them a small quantity as sample in anticipation of boosting his sales but surprisingly none of them availed the offer. It took me some time to realise that the passengers were afraid of swindlers and had decided not to taste even a grain of food during the travel. On this show of utter disdain, the vendor burst out with anger and got off the bus condemning the passengers for suspecting "a man of their fathers' age" to be a swindler.

This reminded me of another incident when a friend of mine was deprived of cash and other valuables by a swindler who offered him dates. The moment he refused, the swindler made him feel guilty on grounds that it was a great sin not to follow a Sunnah when you get an opportunity to do so. This poor friend of mine was found lying unconscious on the bus seat minutes after he had consumed a toxic date.

The vendors who boarded the bus after frequent intervals showed marketing skills still unknown to the leading business schools in the country. For example, can one find a better way to sell tablets treating iron deficiency by making them fly in the air to stick to a magnet bar held high. Regardless of the results no one can deny presence of raw iron in the medicine.

What impressed me was the most was that there were many youth who offered their seats to the aged men entering the bus or men offering their seats to the womenfolk.

Besides, I was shocked to find the conductor arguing sensibly with the passengers over bus fares. Instead of misbehaving with them, this young conductor showed them a date-wise schedule of fuel prices in the local and international markets to justify the fare he was asking for. Once started, the debate had no end as everyone joined the conversation and started criticising government policies. Unexpectedly the arguments given were highly pertinent and a testimony to the fact that the general public's awareness level had risen fast and it was not easy to befool them any further.

Exactly when I had started enjoying the debate, the conductor made an announcement for Sheikhupura-bound passengers to get closer to the door as they had reached their destination. Unwillingly, I got up from the seat in the middle of the heated debate and started walking slowly towards the door. The partners to the debate were not ready to vacate their seats. I also wanted to stick around but couldn't as my friend had already reached there to pick me and take me back to the world of serious and somber people.

Pakistan's beautiful landscape is rich with hilly areas, series of mountains and deserts. Unfortunately, despite all the potential tourist spots, a large number of Pakistanis don't even know they exist. People prefer to visit Murree and Nathia Gali during summers while the 'real' hill stations start from Gilgit leading to Hunza, Pasu and many other valleys. Shamshaal is one such majestic valley.

Shamshaal is 60 Km from Pasu in the North, between Hunza and Sust. To get there a jeep has to be rented since no other conveyance is available. The journey begins smoothly but the comfort departs as the jeeps move closer to the valley. Shamshaal road took eighteen years to be built until it was inaugurated in 2003. Before this route was constructed, it took three days and nights to reach Shamshaal Valley. No construction company or contractor was interested in the project, considering the dangers involved in its construction. Finally, the locals decided to build the road themselves and lost three lives to fulfill their desire for a safer route to their homes. Those three men have been buried along the road. On the new route, it takes three to four hours to reach the Valley. Agha Khan Rural Support Program (AKRSP) and government also helped them with this voluntary project but only through money.

Even after the new construction, Shamshaal road is deadly. Only the roaring Shamshaal River disturbs the deadly silence. Only one jeep at a time can cross the narrow road. On one side, high mountains don't seem willing to give any space and on the other the hundred feet river makes it almost impossible for the jeeps to cross. Three fast flowing springs come on the way. The water level of these springs increases after noon. Those travelling in the afternoon have to throw the big stones out so that they can cross. It has to be repeated until the first sight of the valley is seen.

The people of Shamshaal welcome their guests by arranging a musical night where traditional songs and instruments are played. Special dresses are worn at the occassion. The contribution of the elders in these musical nights is also customary. Different songs are sung including romantic and patriotic songs. Tributes are paid to those who worked bravely for the betterment of Shamshaal.

Shamshaal valley divided into three part -- upper, lower and central -- has a total population consists of about 1500. They earn their livelihood mainly through farming. The days are full of activity. The residents of the valley have built houses in their fields. In the morning, men begin work in the fields whereas women of the houses gather in the middle of the fields to chit chat. Wheat, peas, potato and barley are the main crops of the valley. Women wear special caps made of small beads, called skidh while men wear their regional caps. Wokhi is the local language which is closest to Persian. Almost all the houses in the valley are made of stone and mud with similar internal structure. A very interesting thing about the area is its strongly knit joint family system. In some houses even four generations live together.

87 year old Baig Doulat informs "the average age in the valley is 75 years. The oldest member of the family is respected as the patron of the house. Everything we do in our daily life is after consultation with the head of the household. We accept the change but don't welcome something which is hostile to our traditions. We have hundred percent literacy rate among girls and over ninety percent among boys which shows we want to develop and grow." He further tells, "we have four schools including one high, one primary and two middle. We encourage our children to get higher education because we want them to be a part of the modern world."

Shamshaalis belong to the Ismaili sect. Our visit coincided with the 51st celebration of his nomination as imam. A grand festival was held on this occasion which began with the morning prayers and preparation of sweets. People gathered in one of the ground. It started with the dance in which the members of the families whose relatives expired last year first participated. This is meant to show their concern for each other. Special dresses are prepared for the dance with red flowers embroidered on them. The old and the young together take part in this dance. In the famous dance with two swords the men show their skills with swords. The sports played during the competition include tug of war, hockey and cricket.

Another festival named Sodager (trader) is being held for centuries. The festival began when the traders from the old Silk Route used to come with their merchandise including silk and other fabrics. The residents of the area welcomed them and arranged small celebrations in their honour. The traders would appear in groups on stage and would display their clothes by wearing them. They would also enjoy the ceremony with dancing. This facilitated them as traders. The festival has been named after these traders.

The locals have an organisation named Shamshaal Valley Trust which has the older people as its executive members. Ghulaam Amin is the chairman of the trust. He says that they work "for the betterment of the valley. We gather whenever there is a problem to ensure the solution of the problems. This unity is the reason for peace and stability of the valley. We try not to fight each other and remain peaceful. That's why we had only one unfortunate example of a murder in the last 97 years." Despite its beauty and rich culture, tourists are nowhere to be seen because of the bad infrastructure and defective tourist policies.