The Weed Farm Incident. Growing up, I was devastated by the… | by The Haunted Mind | Jul, 2025

Growing up, I was devastated by the thought of death. I mean, who isn’t? Even that one guy with a swirled moustache, always carrying a gun and radiating ego, is probably afraid of dying.

Thinking about death, strangely enough, makes you appreciate life, no matter how difficult or messy it is. I’ve had a few close encounters with death, and I feel like I should finally tell someone about them.

To give you some context, I’m a brown guy, 5’10” (5’11” on a good day), with a swirled moustache. I’m heavily built and, I’ll admit, a bit egoistic. I exaggerated the gun part. I don’t actually carry one. I do, however, have a somewhat different perspective on life. At least, it felt different until I realized it might just be cliché.

I usually avoid doing reckless things that get me into trouble, not because I’m particularly wise, but because I’m too lazy to deal with the consequences. Still, despite all my caution, I’ve managed to end up in trouble more than once. The kind of trouble where your life flashes before your eyes.

In early 2020, I had recently moved to Pakistan with hopes of turning my life around and chasing some version of success. It was the end of winter, the time of year when you start craving warmth again. I decided to head out to photograph the raw beauty of Punjab.

I rode my bike through quiet, abandoned land left behind by a halted construction project. The place had an eerie charm. There were half-demolished homes, massive bricks scattered across the earth, and birds circling overhead, trying to return to what was once theirs. I kept riding until I hit a dead end. Beyond that was a dense green field and, in the distance, a view of the city.

For someone who had spent most of his life in the desert, it felt like I had stumbled upon a little piece of heaven. I took out my phone and started clicking pictures from every possible angle. I wasn’t sure if they were meant to capture a memory or serve as a flex for Instagram.

Just as I finished taking photos and was preparing to leave, I noticed the green field beside me. It was marijuana. As a Narcos fan and a curious idiot, I stepped closer to check it out.

That’s when I heard the low rumble of a motorbike approaching. By the time I gave it my full attention, it had stopped right in front of mine, blocking it completely. Two heavily built men jumped off. One held what looked like an AK-47. The other carried a pack of yogurt. I was just as confused about the yogurt as you probably are right now.

They stood in front of me silently, just staring. It was the kind of stare that could mean, “Take our pictures too,” or, “We’re about to bury you here.”

Finally, the man on the right spoke.
“What are you doing here?”

Weirdly, I felt calm. I wasn’t sure if I looked composed to them, but inside, I was surprisingly steady.
“Just taking some photos for my page,” I said.

The thinner guy on the left chimed in with a smirk.
“A very odd place to be taking pictures, don’t you think?”

At that point, I was certain this beautiful patch of earth would be my grave. Yet instead of panic, I felt peace.
“It is quite odd now that I think of it,” I replied.

There was another long pause. Then the man on the right said,
“You look like you’re from the city. I must let you know that we villagers don’t like your presence here.”

In my head, I was reciting the Kalma and quietly saying goodbye to the world. Most of all, I was saying goodbye to my mother.

“I hope I don’t ever catch you here again,” he said, stepping back.

I was thrilled to still be alive. But more than that, I was amazed at how calmly I had accepted the possibility of dying. There was no panic. No tears. No begging. Just quiet acceptance.

I got back on my bike and sped off as fast as that tiny engine could handle. If the gun didn’t get me, the bumpy ride home might have.

When I reached home, I sat beside my mother. She had no idea it was a miracle for me to be sitting there at all. I stayed silent for the rest of the day, replaying the moment in my head over and over again. I kept thinking about how it all could have ended right there. No more sadness. No more heartbreak. No more disappointment. But also, no more beautiful moments that were still waiting to happen.

Even now, I think of that day from time to time. And for a few minutes, I appreciate life. Then I go back to cursing it for not being the way I want. I guess that’s just how it is. Even if it’s only for a moment, that short burst of gratitude can be enough to push you through.

It has been two years since that day. A lot has happened. Some good, some not so good. But nothing quite like that day. Looking back, I think that moment did exactly what it was meant to do.

It gave me a reason to change. And for that, I’m grateful.