I AM LAHORE, AND LAHORE IS ME

Nostalgia is a haunting ghost, painting vivid yet often unrealistically beautiful visuals of contrasting memories. Memories of resting under the rose-tinted bougainvillea shrubs, getting lost in tales woven intricately by my nani (grandmother). Memories of showering under the heavy monsoon rains and dancing in poorly choreographed performances at extravagant weddings.

A memory that I have retained is picking up my friend, Minahil, on my way to college and sneakily taking a detour in the congested Shadman Market to buy a packet of cigarettes. My tattered blue car, infamously known as Shetty (named after an over-performing Bollywood actor), had seen better days before barely surviving the untamed traffic of Lahore - Shetty was a pitiful sight and complimented the market around it. Minahil scanned the crowd to ensure that no one recognizes us – it is not proper for young girls to be smoking and gossip spreads like wildfire in Lahore. “Toffees, Fanta, chai?” inquired Arshad, the young man with lingering eyes from the khoka (corner store). He smiled shyly upon learning that we wanted cigarettes. Arshad discreetly covered our purchase in brown paper, as shop owners do with sanitary pads and contraceptives, giving us a pleasantly surprising discount. Maybe, the memory is so clear in my mind because it was a daily occurrence, and Arshad became my friend. We shared polite pleasantries during the transactions and he strived to bring my regular smokes to the car before other shop-owners gathered inquiringly to eye the female smokers.

Arshad’s khoka was a small encroachment, battling with the car parking space and other intrusions. The market was heavily congested and loud, with barely any space for Shetty to park, or Arshad’s stall to even exist. I often wondered if they could just hang these tiny khokas up, dangling from the thick air, like light bulbs just so there was enough room for some wind to breeze through!

Snippets of another memory that linger in my mind and heart are those of sauntering through the narrow streets of the Walled City of Lahore, blocking out the distracting honking of cars and sinking into the enchantment of the city - of what it once was, what it is today and what it can evolve into. My thoughts - an odd amalgamation of tales of war, love, empires and bazaars, life, religion, and continuity - of being submerged in the mystique of Lahore.