Tag Archives: Lahore



My late husband was stationed at Rajshahi. He came on a fifteen days leave for our wedding. After the plane hop from Lahore to Dacca, we kept changing boats. I felt sick all the way. I had the re current thought at intervals,  and wondered when my ordeal was going to be over?
I couldn’t eat. Everything was different, the taste wasn’t one I was used to. The smell of water was abhoring. It was sickening. I kept my thoughts to myself. I didn’t say anything to my husband. 

Who knew that I would be sailing all the way to Rajshshi?



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The bus from Delhi, India

Last week when my daughter, family and I were in Lahore, we visited the Pakistan, India border. It’s known as Wagah. Nola’s children wanted to see the daily changing of guards, lowering of flags in the evening, and the gate closing between both the countries. 

In the above photo  you can see the rear of the bus crossing the border into Pakistan. The passengers waved at the people. I caught the photo at the last minute. Among the passengers were Sikh too who were going to visit Guru Nanak’s Gurdwara near Lahore. Their Guru is buried there. Every year they visit it.

As a momento my daughter gave me a cup. It has a picture of us on both sides, showing her, the children, her husband and I are flanked by two Rangers of Pak Army.



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Recently we (my daughter, her family and I) attended a wedding in Lahore. I should have taken a photo of the exterior of the wedding hall, but I didn’t. It was magnificent, and so was the interior. I feel so sorry for not taking a picture. I should have. I’m annoyed with myself for missing opportunities.

We went there early before the other guests arrived, and were the first to be there after the host, and his family. It was a co-incidence that the bride, and the wedding hall’s names were the same. 

The last photo is of the stage set for the bride, and the groom.

This was the only wedding in which there were two stages — one in the men’s section (you can see it in the photo on top), and another one in the women’s section of the hall. The planners thought that the groom would grace the stage in the men’s section first, and later when the bride arrived, he would join her. But that didn’t happen. 

The groom came to the women’s section, and sat on stage waiting for his bride. He never went to the other stage set for him only. The bride was extra ordinary pretty. 



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Tomb of Mughal Emperor Jahangir at Lahore, Pakistan. This photo only is by FJ my son in law. Rest of them are all mine.

You can see the tomb.

Yesterday we visited Jahangir’s tomb before leaving Lahore. I was with my daughter, and her family. We left for Peshawar, and reached here at almost ten at night. Jahangir lies buried alone. His wife Nur Jehan is buried in an unmarked Baradari someplace else.

I am not being morbid, but I wanted to be buried next to my husband in his village graveyard. Today we went to the village for giving away of food to the poor folk at our village. After that we visited my husband’s grave.

I had specifically asked for a place next to him after I die. It seems it is not to be. Since I don’t live here to keep a watch, now a step aunt is buried next to him. My watchman told me if I want a place at my husband’s feet, I will have to enclose it now with a railing. Otherwise that place will be taken too. I have asked him to take the necessary steps for me.

We visited and renewed meeting you today

You never say a word, but listen to what I have to say

The place by you has been taken, my bad luck

Will I have a place at your feet someday


Or I will be buried in a distant land elsewhere.

Dec 29, 2016



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Motia, and Chameli

The Transporter

Tell us about a sensation — a taste, a smell, a piece of music — that transports you back to childhood.


Motia flowers are known as Jasmine. In my home country there are two types of them. One is grown as a shrub. The flowers are white, and very fragrant. The other variety is a climbing plant. It’s flowers are in two colors — white, and yellow. The yellow ones are without smell. The white ones are fragrant. These flowers are known as Chameli.

As children we used to gather flowers of Motia, or Chameli. We would thread them to make bracelets of flowers for our wrists. In summer evenings you will find street vendors making their living by selling bracelets, and necklaces made with Motia flowers.

The smell of Motia takes me back to my uncle’s home in Lahore. A half circular hedge of Motia extended from one gate to the other one. Older homes always had two gates — an in one, and an out one. Uncle’s whole home used to be filled with the scent of Motia.

The flowers are in abundance in summer, and their heavenly smell will always entice me.


Photos credit Google. The photo in the beginning shows Motia. The photo at the end shows Chameli.