HEART TO HEART
Aur bhi dukh hain zamane men mohabbat ke siva Rahaten aur bhi hain vasl ki rahat ke siva – Faiz Ahmed Faiz
(There are other sorrows in the world, apart from the anguish of love,
There are other reliefs, more potent than the relief of our reunion.)
Visiting Lahore in the thick of monsoon is no less than a calling. A yearning of sorts - the type that impinges on your heart like a homesickness. One where you wistfully want to return to your true self. A self that feels, remembers, submerges itself in the deepest of emotions. A place where you once were, before life took you away and stresses and nuances filled the empty gaps - till that was all there was: the rut and the mundane.
Walking through the lawns of the Walled City, seeing the cultural heritage of the Diwans, observing how their intricate work is being restored, and realising how universal the art is - from Chinese to traditional Mughal craftsmanship - the presence of these walls and buildings is a testament to the unwavering human spirit. But they are also proof of how desperately man needs art, and a projection of something that makes you feel, that touches your soul.
Moving along Sheesh Mehal and Moti Masjid, and being immersed in the skyline of Badshahi Mosque, the Minar-e-Pakistan, and Lahore Fort, the city felt as if it was coming alive in the later evening hours. As the sun met its fate at the horizon, the view cleared up even more - an invitation to see the beauty in the broad twilight.
And somehow it felt as though the colours and their amalgamation were a homage to the setting skies of Lahore. Each building a recitation of poetry, and every corner so well placed, like verses of a beloved song.
A song that sang both of triumph and defeat, of being lost and found, of being forgotten and then eternally immortalised. The city is a homage to the simple human act of wanting to live fully and intently, and with a conscious purpose of celebrating every waking minute.
Treading through the Delhi Gate, all senses were submerged in the aura of narrow streets and bazaars. The scintillating scents of mounds of masalas, vendors casually sitting, people moving carelessly - and amidst this hustle, an oasis sat so gracefully: the Shahi Hammam.
With an entrance straight out of a classic novel, the construction so intricate, it left you awestruck in each room. The concept of plumbing, Jacuzzis, and saunas — something that is in vogue now — was done so many decades ago, and done with such talent, wit, and professionalism, it boggles the mind. Relics of toys made of clay, artefacts of literature belonging to both the Urdu and Hindi languages. Ceilings you never tire of, and arches so effortlessly mesmerising that time passes swiftly, each corner leaving you in goosebumps.
And then, the most cherished Wazir Khan Mosque - with its spellbinding fresco artwork and painting, traditional architecture, and a peace that cannot be explained. It lies in the heart of the city like an oasis.
From there, the hidden treasure: Baithak Sadequain. A cosy corner featuring the artwork of Sadequain, one enters apprehensively, only to be pleasantly surprised by how welcoming this space is. Sitting inside, with the sound of live ghazal, uttering Faiz and Nayyara Noor, with rose petals on tables and candles lit; the same evening light now almost dwindling, playing hide and seek with the night. Those mauve hues creeping through the arched windows, dancing over the verses so uniquely written by souls who showed what it was like to live unapologetically.
Night ushers in, and the city still breathes through the streets, carefully embracing the culture and history that set this city apart. And then you tell your heart, hush, hush, let the sorrows bleed one last time. Let happiness stay before it flees. Submerge yourself in the ocean of thoughts and feelings.
Be as you are.
As Lahore wants you to be.
Till next time.