My young guest wanted to have some snacks at a burger counter. It cost me a fortune, at least by my calculations. They gave us junk food, with a bucket full of what they advertised as elixir, and when we returned home, we had to sit down again for a proper lunch.

The following day we ventured out and had traditional, roasted Lahori fish with naans, and were fully satiated. And it cost us far less than what we had had to pay for the junk food.

We are living in a world of value added products. But where the western nations have successfully taught their people about the ill effects of plastic use on environment and air pollution, we are only beginning to realise that these are our issues too.

When paper became available, the vendors learnt how to make neat packets out of it. Grams, barley, maize and lentils roasted over sand and gently stirred with thick sticks by an elderly lady, in a corner of Bagh Mian Ahmad Din, the only organic garden in Iqbal Town, was popular among the young and the old. Then one day, the LDA anti-encroachment gang tried to demolish the oven which the people vehemently resisted. In vain. The next day, even the debris had been gone.

In the ‘Lahore Destruction Authority,’ the young patronise nylon-packaged cookies. Snacks are a staple diet, especially during intervals between the meals. Those who have had the privilege to walk around the Old City know of vendors of dry sweets made with cottonseed oil. Roarrian, gachhak, gatta, parmal, pinnian are some of our forgotten snacks. The sweets made with gur are chemical-free and also delicious. Seerni, made with reddened flour covered with a thick layer of sugar, would be distributed on special occasions. Khand pataasay, made with fermented sugar, are still enjoyed on occasions like the homecoming of a near and dear one.

Monsoon is a celebrated season. In keeping with the likely spread of microbes and necessary intake of sugar, sweet cookies are roasted over mustard oil and dished around. Peanuts and pine nuts, roasted in ovens set up variously around Mochi Gate, add to the delightful snacks.

Of all the cookies, nothing beats the gol gappay. It’s a strange contraption. A tiny piece of kneaded flour is blown into a ball skillfully over the hot plate. Hundreds of them are stored in cage-like containers. Each of them is punctured with a finger and a bitter-sweet liquid poured onto it, while the waiting customers get several of these served in bowls.

Samosa is a food item that famously made its way into the Oxford Dictionary because of its worldwide recognition. Today, it seems to be coming back in different, reincarnated forms. Patties, chicken in round shape and vegetables in triangular shape, to be savored along with tomato sauce, have found great acceptance.

Though we are all moving towards becoming a global village, our native cultures, cuisines, apparels, languages, climates, and even the flora and fauna remain special to us. But the so-called value-added products have no right to block the gates of culture.

I have always enjoyed travelling on land rather than by air. I loved to see the landscape changing gradually, all the way through my tours of Africa, Europe, Middle East, South Asia and Far East. I believe that our heritage must be protected from climate change for our posterity. We shouldn’t lose hope yet. Many among us are heeding to the cry of Mother Nature.

(This dispatch is dedicated to Usman who learnt the hard way that local cookies are the best)

The writer is a painter, the founding member of Lahore Conservation Society and Punjab Artists Association, and the former director of NCA Art Gallery. He can be reached at ajazart@brain.net.pk