COVER STORY
On an unassuming evening of an uncharacteristically pleasant day in May last week, I found myself en route to the outskirts of the Inner City, the historic core of the ridiculously history-drenched Lahore.
This twilight excursion was significant for two reasons:
i) The outing put my status as a certified hermit in jeopardy (and if you know me, you know I take my hermitness very seriously), and
b) I was going out in the face of the overprotectiveness of my parents who have several panic attacks apiece if I’m not within visual distance at any given time, let alone out at an ungodly hour after the Sun hadst setteth.
But there I was, in an overpriced Uber, making my way to an overpriced hotel to see a cousin who was visiting from the great jazeera of Bartania. This would be my first time meeting her, despite us both being of ages that are of the “what was it like when the dinosaurs were still around?” variety.
She’d suggested meeting at her hotel, then going for dinner at a fancy restaurant. Said fancy restaurant was chosen gastronomical-roulette style through a Google search powered by an irrational faith in the universe.
And so, a second overpriced Uber ride later, we found ourselves at the Old Walled City and made our way to the Fort Road Food Street, which happens to be right next to … the Lahore Fort! Because that’s where the food street is! Which is something I would have known had it not been for the ‘certified hermit’ bit!
Anyhow, there we stood … the lifelong Lahori and the foreigner who probably knew more about Lahore than the lifelong Lahori did, taking in the view of the bustling street, waiting for someone to snatch our bags, holding hands like that was going to protect us from getting mugged.
The restaurant we had chosen, some helpful strangers told us, was in the building just beyond food street main. So off we went, my parents calling every two and a half milliseconds to check that I was still alive (which, surprisingly, I was).
Before we even made it to the eatery though, our attention was very thoroughly stolen by what would become the centrepiece of our night: the Badshahi Masjid. Beautifully illuminated from within and bathing in the transcendent light of the full(ish) moon, the mosque stood like a magnificent conduit between the past and the present – a reminder of the city’s historic roots, a timeless monument and one of the most iconic buildings in the country. And also just breathtakingly beautiful.
“That building is gorgeous!” said one half of my brain.
“Excellent observation, Captain Obvious,” replied the snarkier other half.
“These two sides of my brain need to have a meeting,” sang Jack White in ‘Fell in Love with a Girl’ which has absolutely nothing to do with this story.
After we managed to pick our jaws off the floor, we finally found the restaurant we had chosen, and which, the Internet had claimed, promised a five-star dining experience. (We stopped first at another food place a few doors down to compare menus, but they demanded a reservation, which we did not have, so we decided they suck anyway.)
We arrived at what appeared to be a cosy nook decked in décor that seemed like an AI’s interpretation of traditional chic, and were led to an elevator … because apparently we had to go upstairs? The other occupants of the lift said something about the roof … because apparently we were going to the roof? Ok then.
The ding of the elevator, push the door open, walk onto the roof, and … holy skyline, Batman! In front of us was an unbelievably spectacular view of Lahore – the mosque illuminated against the night sky, the Minar-e-Pakistan glowing in the distance, the fort dark but majestic towards the side.
We were going to have dinner while looking at this view?! Well done, universe!
The menu – unfortunately for me and fortunately for the foreigner – was Pakistani food, or as we in Pakistan like to call it: food. Your kababs and tikkas and curries and biryanis and the like. Except everything cost about twice as much as it should have and tasted half as good.
But while the food may have been very resoundingly average, we couldn’t care less because LOOK AT THAT VIEW! That mosque … that beautiful, gorgeous, centuries-old mosque! Was this the same historical building I had dismissed as a child with an “it’s aiight” and a shrug?
All this magnificent history in my own proverbial backyard … and yet somehow I had never stopped to think about its significance, the centuries-worth of stories that must lie beneath each brick, each tile, each brushstroke.
We spent an hour and a half taking in the lovely view while pretending to enjoy the bland food and taking lots and lots of super blurry photos (thank you, Samsung J6+!) of each other and the food (which was really pretty, so points for that) and the mesmerising surroundings.
A preposterously huge bill – which came down to approximately “are you out of your mind?!” rupees (or “well that was a bargain” pounds because dang the exchange rate is brutal!) – and around 9345762 phone calls from my parents later, I was back in an overpriced Uber, on my way home, making my way back through a city that suddenly looked and felt so different.
When you spend your entire life in the same city, the same town, there is so much about it that you can start to just take for granted. The amazing things, the unique textures, they all become part of the background, something that a tourist would cherish because they’ve never seen them before, whereas for you they’re just part of the scenery.
I spoke to an Aussie friend about this experience the other day and she pointed out that many people fail to pay attention to the sites in their hometown, which is why there is a whole entire worldwide tourism industry that has to keep banging on about these well-known monuments, not just to attract foreigners but also to remind locals who are maybe overlooking the beauty of their own area.
My (very long-winded) point, dear reader, is this: don’t be one of those people. Appreciate everything – and everyone – around you. You don’t need a potential World Heritage Site to grab you by the shoulders and shake you into realizing what you’re missing. Not many people are lucky enough to live in a city as historied as Lahore or a country as diverse and fascinating as Pakistan, and if you’re here, then feel blessed and appreciate everything around you; if you’re not, then just stop and smell the roses – both literally and metaphorically – no matter where you find yourself.A night on the town