"If you have not seen Lahore you have not been born."

Kamini Sawhney

Monday, April 5, 2004

I have just returned from Lahore, still dazed by the experience. Its people tell me, "We will also visit your country one day and be India's guests."

And suddenly I grow cold. Will India open its heart to Lahore the way its people overwhelmed us? Do we have the same guileless warmth, the same large hearted generosity, where near strangers are willing to fling open their doors to you?

"Is your hotel comfortable, otherwise please stay with us. Do you have a car, otherwise you can borrow ours."

Its streets so amazingly crowded and yet so safe. Gwaal Mandi, the street where Nawaz Sharief's ancestral home is, is now like the sidewalk cafes in Paris. But it's so much more alive like a street only in India or Pakistan can be.

Full of noise, smells, people and food, unbelievably good food. Kebabs that one has never heard of - the chappli kebab from Multan, beaten into the most tender concoction and spiced with anardana and roasted dhaniya.

Jungli kebab - no I won't tell you what that is - let your imagination run riot.

Streets that remain open all night until 6 in the morning, filled with  men and women - women in burkhas, in salwar kameezes with children running around, all tucking into their kebabs with the same level of enjoyment.

There is an atmosphere of camaraderie that leaves me silent. People at the next table want to know - are we enjoying our stay, do we like Lahore? What is Delhi like? Everywhere there are smiles and good wishes.

Further down the street is the man who makes the most heavenly phirni. And the food street is clearly the place for adda.

The poet Faiz Ahmed Faiz's daughter is savouring a kulfi and chats with us about how wonderful it is for people to be able to meet and interact, to discover how much they have in common.

Everywhere it is the same complaint - the politicians have ruined it all.

Even in the majestic Lahore fort I see glimpses of our own Red Fort, not surprising. All the Mughal rulers had a hand in it. Akbar, Jehangir, Shah Jahan and then Aurangazeb.

Children from a nearby school are doing their bit for restoration, helping to remove the layers of dust from the walls so that the archaeologist can get to work on the more complicated stuff.

The exquisite Sheesh Mahal is being restored piece by piece. It was meant for Mumtaz Mahal but she never made it to her palace in Lahore.

The Shahidi mosque just across the gateway of the fort is Jama Masjid all over again and I feel I am back in Chandni Chowk.

A little boy from Peshawar is sightseeing just like us. He peeps out from behind one of the pillars and I ask him to stand with me for a photograph. He screams loudly and returns to the safety of his mother's arms.

In a while our little champ soon returns. Obviously, after a dressing down from his mother on how he must welcome guests to his country.

And yes, shopkeepers do make you pay. It's time for Pakistan's business community to make some money and it's time to pay - five times the normal price for your hotel room and your hired car.

The city's shoe shops are in clover. The upmarket Liberty shopping arcade is open everyday till midnight so avid shoppers make it even after the match.

There are plenty of Imelda Marcos's here. One enthusiast has 20 pairs of jhootis of every size and colour clutched in her arms. She looks at me slightly embarrassed. "I'm taking for my friends!!!!"

I must confess, my bag had nine.

I meet 80-year-old Tahira Mazhar Ali, who puts us all to shame with her vivacity and her zest for life. She looks at our sardar friend. "Now that you people have come, Lahore is once again the Lahore of old."

This was once the capital of Ranjit Singh, the lion of Punjab, where Sikhs were part of the skyline. Now the only ones left are the few looking after the gurudwaras scattered all over Pakistan.

Tahira is the daughter of the chief minister of Punjab after partition. Just 17 then, she was heartbroken at the thought that her best friends would be on the other side of the line, and the Congress party that she identified with was now a political party in another country. So she cycled over to Jinnah's home to declare her
displeasure.

She describes that meeting.

"I handed over a letter to him from my father. He didn't bother much about the letter.... Instead he looked at me and said sharply.....so I hear you are not with us. I said yes, I am with the Congress. They fought for freedom and they fought for all of us. They did not divide my country into bits and pieces. Now the people and places I love seem
unreachable. I want to be able to just drive to Amritsar for chaat like we did on so many evenings.

He looked at me and said, "But of course, you will still be able to do all of those things, you will visit your friends in India and they will visit you in Lahore and I myself will visit Bombay every year."

Did Jinnah actually believe it would be like that, or did he know he was dying anyway and was just humoring a young girl?

Has it taken a cricket match to recreate in a small way what this city must have once been like, its streets filled with Hindus, Muslims, Sikhs and Christians - all making Lahore what it was.

Its mall road with stately homes and government buildings and its amazing universities. Its culture of learning, of history and of course gracious hospitality.

There is an old Punjabi saying, "If you have not seen Lahore you have not been born." I am beginning to understand a little what that means.