This is what it is like to be held in solitary confinement in a US prison
Warning: This story contains references to suicide, which some readers may find disturbing. If you or a loved one is experiencing suicidal thoughts, help and support are available. Visit Befrienders International for more information about support services.
When I was a child, I would spend each summer with my family in the foothills of northern Pakistan's Karakoram mountains. We would spend our days exploring the verdant meadows, forests and lakes in this region known as the "roof of the world" and then return to our lodge for meals of chargha (fire-roasted chicken) and naan, hot tea, coconut biscuits, cashews and dried fruits. At night, we'd make bonfires and tell stories about our family spread all over the world. I remember how tiny I felt sitting wrapped in a woollen Kashmiri shawl on those chilly nights, sitting under skies full of stars.
Those trips always carried a sense of adventure - and freedom.
One day during one of those summer holidays when I was 12, my Aunt Naseem went for a walk and I tagged along. She was my mentor and confidant and, having never had children of her own, was like a mother to me.
That day, we headed to the Neelam River separating Pakistan-administered Kashmir from Indian-administered Kashmir. We walked along the riverbank beside the clear river. We were so close to the border that we could see the Indian army posts, their guns pointed in our direction. Arriving at a higher point, we stood in the Neelum Valley. It had rained earlier and now the air was fresh. Snow-capped peaks rose in the distance. I remember my aunt pulling me into the warmth of her shawl.
"Once here, Tariq, you never actually leave. A part of you will always stay in the north, always beckoning,' she told me.
Her words enchanted me.
"You don't believe me,' she said, her smile widening. "Shout out your name and see what happens."
I shouted - as loud as I could. Then it came: an echo that seemed to say my name over and over into the distance. "Now you see. The mountains are too high. They will never let Tariq leave," my aunt told me.
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