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Today's Paper | November 25, 2024

Published 07 Jan, 2018 01:23pm

The jewel in the crown

Love for one’s city is considered an article of faith. This seems quite apt at least in case of Lahore which stands out for its cultural landmarks, spirit of conviviality and enlightenment. Its archaeological wonders, historical buildings and institutions have been the envy of the world for ages, as are attractions such as culinary delights (especially traditional food). Winter adds zing of its own to the eating-out experience. “To belong to Lahore is to be steeped in its romance, to inhale with each breath an intensity of feeling that demands expression,” writes novelist Bapsi Sidhwa.

Come to think of it, there are many historians, men of letters and leading lights of literature who have penned various aspects of Lahore and the vicissitudes of life in the city before and after the Partition. One can find copious gems of literature that paint a poetic image of the city.

In Beloved City — Writings on Lahore, Bapsi Sidhwa writes: “This then is the ancient city, described before the Partition as the ‘Paris of the East’, which insinuates itself in each of the pieces in this anthology. After all, it is the city in which memories are lodged and where the people who are dear to us live. But at times I have felt that the magnificent tombs of Lahore, the mosques and gardens, and the colonial edifices built by the British, form only an essential background; it is the people who throng Lahore’s bazaars and streets and inhabit the city’s buildings that occupy centre stage. And therein lies the emotional landscape of my writing, the memories I drawn upon in my novels.”

Writer Bina Shah paints a vivid picture of what she calls ‘A Love Affair with Lahore’. Writes she: “Perhaps this is the word that best captures the city of Lahore: romance. It is no coincidence that Lahore was founded, according to the Deshwa Bhaga, by a man called ‘Luv’, the son of Raja Ram Chandar, in the second century AD. Romance floats in the very air of Lahore, between the molecules of pollution and the aroma of food cooking at every street corner. Those who know Lahore intimately can feel its romance as they gaze across the rooftops of the Walled City, and glimpse the spires of its colonial-era buildings – the King Edward Medical College, the Aitchison or Chief’s College, the Punjab Library – through the haze and fog of a typical chilly Lahore morning, as the sun struggles manfully to shine through.

“The very climate of Lahore is passionate, whether it’s the thunder or rain of a monsoon downpour, the scorching heat of a summer afternoon, or the angry red sky of an approaching dust storm.”

Yet another gem one comes across is, “Lahore is a love affair, it has nothing to do with reason”.

Love and a sense of belonging lead to nostalgia the beautiful portrayal of which can be found in Mohsin Hamid’s essay, ‘The Pathos of Exile’. He says: “Still, Lahore touches me. I am doing well in my career abroad, and I am able to visit often. But there is something about Lahore, something that makes me want to be part of this city’s story. Even though I have moved away, this is where I evolved, where my basic notions of love and friendship were formed. A snow leopard can be taken to zoos in other places; it can perhaps even be well fed and content, but it will always wear a coat designed for the Himalayas. I see Lahore when I look in the mirror, and I feel the strength of my attachment at this moment.”

There is no denying the splendour and significance of the historical buildings in Lahore’s landscape. “…it is the Badshahi Mosque, its massively billowing marble domes ignited by the setting sun as one approaches the city from the Ravi Bridge, that conjures up the image of Lahore for me. Reputed to be the world’s largest mosque, it is laid out like a jewel before the main gate of the Lahore Fort. Both structures originally stood on the banks of the Ravi, but the depleted river had meandered into a new course a couple of miles to the north. The Badshahi Mosque, its elegant proportions and the way it is situated in relation to the city, is sheer architectural poetry,” writes Sidhwa, the author of four acclaimed novels The Crow Eaters, The Bride, Ice-Candy-Man and An American Brat.

‘Lahore, Lahore Hai’, goes an old saying. It is this title Pran Nevile has used to describe his impressions about the city. Quoting ‘District Census Report, Lahore, 1872’, he writes: Lahore has for long been the nerve centre of political, social, educational and cultural activities. Sir Syed Ahmad Khan called the people the ‘Zinda Dillan-i-Punjab’ and the Quaid-i-Azam called it the ‘Heart of Pakistan’.

No description of Lahore’s literary circles can be complete without mention of places such as The Coffee House and Pak Tea House. To quote the late historian K.K. Aziz, “…The Coffee House was for over 30 years the single most important and influential powerhouse which moulded the lives and minds of a whole generation, and its legacy affected the careers of the succeeding generation. Whenever an intellectual, cultural and literary history of Lahore (or the Punjab and Pakistan) is written, the diverse circles (literary, political, artistic, scholarly, legal, journalistic, etc.) which met and discoursed in the Coffee House will have to be described in detail and the ever-widening waves of their influence recorded.”

Paying tribute to the genius and contribution of a late literary giant, journalist Khaled Ahmed in his ‘Pavement-pounding Men of Letters: Intizar Hussain’s Lahore’ writes: “Pre-Partition Lahore arouses a great deal of nostalgia. Literary memoirs of the city remember the Lahore of the early twentieth century as the ‘bride of the cities’, where poets and grammarians consorted in an environment of enlightenment…”

In a famous ‘Lahori’ column on winter delights of yesteryears, Zafar Iqbal Mirza writes: “My log fires were the envy of my friends and they would flock to my place and we would get the fire going and the flames would bring great good cheer and our evenings would last well past midnight till such time as we ran out of our logs and coal and our bon mots. Every evening would be an occasion.”

(The writer is a staff member)

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