Vagabond

Deosai ?!
He popped his head out from the small window of the wooden door as if a marmot from its burrow.
These exquisitely florid ford trucks are common here. Designs chiseled and painted by hand take months to prepare one such masterpiece. No nook and cranny is left undone. Drivers spend huge sums for this and take pride to show off their only source of income.
His voice was raucous like an old engine. The large dyed mustache and droopy eyes on a tarnished and worn out face were evident of the incessant hard work and thousands of sleepless miles he had covered on his ship.
I raise my head 50 degrees for the approval. Ibraheem a 6 foot 4 taciturn gave his confirmation, "Let’s go" with a mix of mischief and curiosity.
I dunked my bag on top of the truck and went into its control room, he followed me.
The inside was even more elaborately decorated. I was always mesmerized by kaleidoscopes, but this time I felt as if I was inside one. “My name is Chacha Sheeda”, he mentioned with an ugly grin as he triggered the engine. Grandma used to tell harrowing stories about these truck guys. These guys abduct children and take them to the mountains and use them as slaves she used to say. I was in no mood to take back my decision; the truck had already started moving.
A few turns and we were on the mighty Karakorum Highway, a major tributary of the well-known silk route. The treacherous road meandered through the mountains proving its intrinsically serpentine nature. We had to cover 500 miles to Deosai Plains; spend 19 hours in the truck and digest the endless tales of Chacha Sheeda. His stories about the giant ogres of Deosai were quiet similar to those of my grandma, the funny part was that he replaced himself with the ogres.
The way was long, very very long. Frequent breaks and tea cups by the dozens did little to ease our backs and soothe our brains. We slithered along with the night to see the welcoming sun emerging out of the silver lining beyond the greens. This view was worth the wait. We were in Deosai.
“What’s your plan”, Chacha asked with his head popped out of the little window.
“We don’t have any plan, that’s the plan”, I replied with a confident uncertainty. 'Very well', he said and left, racing his truck into the dust that followed it. Soon we were all alone facing the 3000 square km of rolling wilderness. I didn't raise my head 50 degrees for the approval this time. "Let’s go" Ibraheem said with a mix of mischief and curiosity.