On an unseasonably hot and sunny March afternoon, colourful bunting in bright hues of red, green and blue fluttered in the warm breeze as enthusiastic young volunteers cheerfully welcomed visitors to the Alhamra Centre of Art and Culture in Lahore. This year, the Lahore Literary Festival (LLF) returned for its tenth edition after a two-year hiatus due to the outbreak of the pandemic and rising Covid cases. Speakers were invited from all corners of the globe. They included Vietnamese author Nguyen Phan Que Mai, Louvre Museum curator Jean-Baptiste Clais, US based blogger turned cookbook author Shaziah Zuberi, and Spanish musical artist Vanesa Muela, to name just a few.

Though noticeably quieter than previous years where the glitterati of not only Lahore but also other cities turned out to see and be seen, as well as celebrate the arts and culture, the turnout was still decent, with individuals who have a keen interest in the festival present for the talks. For fans of people watching, attending the LLF is a sight for sore eyes: celebrities of the academic and art worlds are given the opportunity to present fascinating talks and guests in attendance wear their best sartorial choices, often choosing colourful and expressive outfits fit for a festival celebrating all things artistic and literary.

Both young and old people were present at the festival; men and women turned up in equal parts, and as always attending the LLF gave us reason to be optimistic that it is possible for Pakistan to be tolerant and progressive. The most important feature of the festival is that it is open to the public and free of charge, providing a much needed public space and platform for all kinds of people to interact freely.

During each session I attended, of which there were several, a most interesting exercise was swivelling my head around and examining the audience present for each talk. Not only did the composition of the audience intrigue me, because I wanted to see what kind of crowd each speaker was able to draw, but it was equally interesting to see the ways in which each session captivated its audience. In the talk on Writing Our Stories: Decolonising Lives, the speakers drew in a steady stream of people filtering into a hall that was already packed before the session had begun. A wonderful mix of students and young thinkers, middle aged people who seemed seriously interested in fiction and the effects of the West on Eastern writing, and fans of Osama Siddique comprised the crowd. It was surprising therefore that a panel including award winning Vietnamese writer Nguyen Phan Que Mai and multi-talented Osman Yousefzada would be squashed into the smaller Hall 4 rather than appointed a larger hall.

Other than the usual fare of young intellectuals and artists; college students and academics; and journalists; it was especially lovely to see in attendance older gentlemen in their proverbial Sunday best.

This, I was told, was an observation felt by many. The larger halls were reserved for ‘big name’ celebrities who would have a guaranteed draw of attention such as Mohsin Hamid, Ayesha Jalal, Imran Qureishi and Salima Hashmi, to name a few. While there is no dispute that these public figures have earned their status in the world of arts and culture, the venue of Alhamra comes up short when the cards are dealt, as some halls are very cramped for the kind of experience each speaker deserves.

Other than the usual fare of young intellectuals and artists; college students and academics; and journalists, it was especially lovely to see in attendance older gentlemen in their proverbial Sunday best: lovely sherwanis and shalwar kamees, dapper linen suits with pocket squares, and older ladies in graceful cotton saris and attractive trousers and blouses. This demographic turned out for sessions such as Pandemic: Doctors’ Stories from the Frontlines, Travel Writing in Pakistan and Pakistan at 75: Phantom of Freedom? just to name a few. It was heartening to see so many senior citizens sitting shoulder to shoulder with younger audience members, attentive and engaged in an activity that catered to both groups in equal measure, perhaps a rare occasion for the former group.

The session by Katie Hickman on her book She Merchants, Buccaneers and Gentlewomen boasted a predominantly female audience, with a slightly older age demographic present. This was unsurprisingly similar to the sessions on Children’s fiction with Roopa Farooki and Sanam Shamsie, and Pakistani Cookery with Shaziah Zuberi, but was pleasant to see as it meant that the organisers had thoughtfully created a programme that catered to all types of festival enthusiasts.

Each session had something to offer that was topical and relevant in today’s world: whether it was the magic of exploring a love for food on a blog that turned into a cookbook opportunity, or the importance of children’s fiction being representative of people who look like us and highlighting issues such as climate conservation and tolerance. Pertinent questions such as whether museums are useful in today’s world beyond providing glamorous selfie backdrops, or how to reclaim identities both individual and communal through written work that frees itself of any expectation the West may have, just to name a few, were thoroughly examined in the various lectures that took place over the weekend.

One small criticism would have to be that, especially in light of the repressive heat, there were not enough arrangements in place to cater to the influx of visitors. The food was limited to a Cosa Nostra stall, where on Saturday during the lunch hour a riot broke out between those gathered around it trying to secure a meal. It was rather unfortunate that even when the most educated individuals had gathered for the LLF, the urge to resist queues and try to cut in front remained strong. There was a biryani stall or two present at the courtyard too, but overall the food options felt scarce. Covered seating to eat was also in short supply, with many forced to trek back to the halls with their food.

Attending the LLF this year brought back a lot of hope and joy to the city, after two extremely trying and scary years of the pandemic. It was beautiful to be able to venture outside of our homes, to interact with strangers and friends, to listen and learn from the sessions, and to feel like life will return to normal someday soon. For now, some wore masks whilst others threw caution to the wind in light of low infection rates. All sat together for an experience full of wonder and growth.

The writer is a bibliophile, lawyer and freelance   journalist