It was mid-May, the start of freedom.
We'd barely scraped through our school exams, just enough to pass, but no one cared. What mattered was that summer vacation had begun. For me, that meant leaving behind the blistering heat and chaos of Karachi. Dabi stayed behind, trapped in that oven of a city.Out of sight, out of mind—that was my motto.
I was heading to my grandmother's place in KPK, a paradise carved into the hills. The air there was clean—so clean it made your lungs dance. The kind of place where the sky touches the mountains and the mountains touch your soul. A complete reversal from Karachi's smoke-choked skyline.
And waiting for me there, as always, was my cousin Udas.
Udas was a character—short, skinny, dark-skinned, and smart in a weird, violent way. He reminded me of Bram back home: a know-it-all with a chip on his shoulder. But unlike Bram, Udas had access to older kids—guys who treated him like one of their own. It made him act grown-up. Too grown-up.
Every summer, we had a deal: Udas would collect stories, habits, and tricks from the "older boys," and then pass them down to me when I visited. A strange little tradition—half-brotherhood, half-corruption.
But this summer was different. He seemed… amped up.
One morning, as we walked along the hills, taking in the view, Udas pulled out a pack of cigarettes like it was treasure.
"I'm not a kid anymore," he said, shaking the box. "I smoke now. Helps me think."
Maybe he was deep in his Bollywood hero phase. Maybe he really thought this made him a man. Either way, I was intrigued.
"Where did you get them?" I asked.
He smirked. "I got my ways."
He pulled one out, lit it with a shaky hand, took a drag, then exhaled like he was in a film. But within seconds he was coughing, eyes watering.
"This shit's strong," he wheezed. "Built for real men."
My excitement flared. "Let me try!"
He handed me a cigarette and the lighter.
I copied his move—spark, drag, inhale—and immediately regretted it. My throat burned like it had swallowed acid. My chest tightened, my nose stung, eyes blurred. I coughed so hard I thought I was dying.
The taste was disgusting. My mouth flooded with saliva. I hated every second of it.
Udas burst out laughing.
"You're such a little bitch," he said between laughs. "You don't even know how to watch Porn!"
I paused. "Porn?" I asked, confused. "What's Porn?"
He stared at me like I was from another planet—then grinned like a devil.
"You don't know? Let me show you what it means to be a man."
We rushed back to the house, up to his room. He pulled out his prized possession: an iPad—still a rare thing back then.
With a smug look, he opened Google, typing in "RED**** Porn Rough Sex Doggy Style" with a kind of ritualistic flair.I watched, curious. Innocent.
"Today," he said, "you're gonna see how a man FUCKS."