There are travels to all parts of the world. Some to exotic destinations, others to bustling cities; travels that give people lots to talk about for they have experienced the many views and cultures along the way. My travels lately have been back to my hometown. A place called Pakistan.
The moment I mentioned where I've been headed, there would be little inclination to read ahead. In your mind you will have already formed a mental image of Pakistan according to yesterday's news and you may for an instant feel worried for me, though you will certainly not be inclined to read ahead. For it is Pakistan, what could possibly be so wonderful about that?
Fact is I feel your aversion. Though despite all its vices, I also carry a pride in my nation. For, in it I see a treasure trove, a haven of diverse cultures, sound artistic beauty and those little things that make up a profound bigger picture.
It’s the man on the colorfully dressed up cart, pulling it across the hordes, it’s the drifting mother on the street nestling child under a canopy set with her most vibrant dupatta and it’s even the quaint little shops and cafes that are a fusion of ethnicity and the modern world. There is much to admire, apart from the military structure that posts on a roundabout.
Chai and spices and all things lovely, on this trip we experienced a place called Pipri. A fueling spot for all truckers who would line up for their turn at the pump. As you will have read from my previous post, the trucks in Pakistan are no ordinary sort; they tend to mystify an onlooker with the intricacy, art and spectacular gaudiness. Pipri would have been a bland oil field on our way to a rural town called Gharo, if it hadn’t been for the great wall of colorful drama.
Color I find in every sight I see, like delightful gems in that treasure trove I speak of. Along a road in another sweet little town, stalls lined up, piled high with fruits of the season with the only reality differentiating each stall being the varying forms of decoration. Then beside the stalls, others lined up with desi roses from the season, the smell another story to tell. Turn around the corner to find a market bustling with crowds, music, street food and people selling clothes and ethnic finds.
In a nation where there are many on the line to tear us apart, life on the streets makes one realize those things we are proud to express. There are certainly those apparent wonders that one could admire, and then there are the places where life happens, where the salient vibe allows you to sink into a state of appreciation. I may not have changed your perceptions formed over years of pessimism from the media, though I do hope you stayed with me till the end of my musings. Which makes me hopeful that one day you will see my hometown, Pakistan from my eyes.
The moment I mentioned where I've been headed, there would be little inclination to read ahead. In your mind you will have already formed a mental image of Pakistan according to yesterday's news and you may for an instant feel worried for me, though you will certainly not be inclined to read ahead. For it is Pakistan, what could possibly be so wonderful about that?
Fact is I feel your aversion. Though despite all its vices, I also carry a pride in my nation. For, in it I see a treasure trove, a haven of diverse cultures, sound artistic beauty and those little things that make up a profound bigger picture.
It’s the man on the colorfully dressed up cart, pulling it across the hordes, it’s the drifting mother on the street nestling child under a canopy set with her most vibrant dupatta and it’s even the quaint little shops and cafes that are a fusion of ethnicity and the modern world. There is much to admire, apart from the military structure that posts on a roundabout.
Chai and spices and all things lovely, on this trip we experienced a place called Pipri. A fueling spot for all truckers who would line up for their turn at the pump. As you will have read from my previous post, the trucks in Pakistan are no ordinary sort; they tend to mystify an onlooker with the intricacy, art and spectacular gaudiness. Pipri would have been a bland oil field on our way to a rural town called Gharo, if it hadn’t been for the great wall of colorful drama.
Color I find in every sight I see, like delightful gems in that treasure trove I speak of. Along a road in another sweet little town, stalls lined up, piled high with fruits of the season with the only reality differentiating each stall being the varying forms of decoration. Then beside the stalls, others lined up with desi roses from the season, the smell another story to tell. Turn around the corner to find a market bustling with crowds, music, street food and people selling clothes and ethnic finds.
In a nation where there are many on the line to tear us apart, life on the streets makes one realize those things we are proud to express. There are certainly those apparent wonders that one could admire, and then there are the places where life happens, where the salient vibe allows you to sink into a state of appreciation. I may not have changed your perceptions formed over years of pessimism from the media, though I do hope you stayed with me till the end of my musings. Which makes me hopeful that one day you will see my hometown, Pakistan from my eyes.
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