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It was exciting to know that our next Climate Control conference was to be at Islamabad. Our delegation of five reached from Mumbai and the warmth of the reception we got was touching. We were really chatty as we drove into our hotel with our young guide, each of us with a different wish list. Mine was to visit Taxila for historic reasons and Murree-a place about which an aunt had always gone poetic! I must have been the most valuable of the lot…
At the hotel as we checked in, we found Gavaskar was there in the lobby- mobbed by admirers! He was their hero, because I was told that he was the only one who had predicted that Pakistan would win the World Cup that year even while they were doing badly in the openers!
The conference and workshops began and one got busy with heavy meeting schedules. Each of us co-chaired a session with a senior Pakistani official. The one who came over for my session- a member of their Railway Board turned out to be a great admirer of how India had nurtured our common railway heritage.
Evenings were devoted to visits to the grand mosque, Jumma Bazaar and to banquets -one on the ‘Koh’, the hill which looks over Islamabad and the other at Rawalpindi- their equivalent of Old Delhi. We were kept really busy only to return happily tired each night.
Helpfully, there was a free day and one was wondering what to do, when the hotel reception rang to say that I had visitors. A young couple introduced themselves as the daughter and son in law of the Railway officer. They had come over with an SUV to take me to Murree and I was really surprised since I had completely forgotten about that wish. Just as we were leaving, our young guide was getting off his car. “I have made all the arrangements for your Taxila trip”- he gushed! It was touching, and it really broke my heart to say no to him…
Murree it was- which turned out to be a beautiful Hill resort, full of boarding schools and holiday homes of the ultra rich. The beautiful cast iron lamp posts on the roads were certainly a relic of the empire. It appears that Murree got its name from a belief that Mother Mary had actually made it her home. From some high spots at the edge of the town, we were told that we could see the Kashmir valley. In fact, I was told that the best route to Kashmir in olden times was always through Murree.
What had totally escaped my memory was so well remembered by these wonderful strangers!
The conference finally got over, and we suddenly discovered that with all our preoccupation, we had forgotten to report to the local Police Station each day to get our passports stamped as required! Sensing deep trouble, we broke the news to our hosts who had come in to say their byes. There were phone calls and finally, a young officer took us to the PS. The officer in charge turned out to be a lady. Her serious look unnerved us at first as she took our passports, to only open and lay them out neatly. She took out her rubber stamp with the revolving date adjustment, started to stamp with each day clicked back, one by one! When she returned our papers with five stampings and a smile, she had simply dismissed all our troubles away in one shot!
I shall never forget the thoughtfulness of this stranger who needn’t have been so generous!
It was time to take return flights and mine was to Delhi via Lahore. The rest took flights to Mumbai. I arrived at Lahore airport in the morning at about 10 and my connection was only at 5-30 pm. The transit lounge looked gloomy and I really wondered how I was going to last out the wait. Having nothing else to do, I went over to the immigration officer at the desk and started a chat. I said to him,” hum ne suna hai ki Lahore ki khoobiyat Lahori hota hai. Aap akele Lahori ho jin se hume milne ki mouka mila”. He looked at me incredulously for a while and responded, “ Aap to bahut acche baat kar dete ho. Aap kahan se hain?” etc..
He called over a guy through an attendant and introduced him as his trusted taxi driver. He told him,” Saab ko pura Lahore ghumana aur sab jagah dikha ke loutna hai.”. He gave him specific instructions on what I should not miss, where I should eat, the shop in Meena Bazaar to shop in etc etc. Strict instructions were given to make him bring me back in time for the flight. He took my passport and, in return, gave me a small note in Urdu. “Agar koi pooche, to isse dikha dena”.
Thanks to the genial officer, I had that wonderful Lahore experience and get a feel of the nazaakat of the typical Lahori- probably on par with that of our own Lucknowi of oldi!
I wondered if all the wonderful strangers who made my trip so memorable were really from a land away from mine at all!
As I looked down from my window as I flew homewards, my mind wandered and thought of Iqbal, who he sang “Saare Jahaan se Accha” and of Tagore who gave us “Punjab Sind Gujarat Maratha” in our anthem.
I also wondered about the adage one had heard about ‘lines’-
“Written on the forehead”, it said, “they define your kismat, and, when written across land, they define boundaries”,
After this trip of mine, I kept looking and looking and could see no such lines on the ground below!
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