Memories from Lahore

When I arrived I was in shock and I cannot remember much from what was happening. The things I remember are more like a film I have seen once, not like my own memories.

There is a collection of pipes on a chimney in a TV room. Portrait of a scary man in our bedroom, T. covering it with a towel. There is a fan on a very high ceiling.  There is me, being scared of T. at first, his voice sounding different. His red T-shirt when I saw him after four years on the Lahore street. There are two boxes of grapes from Quetta. I cannot remember all these general things. I don’t remember what colour were the room walls. I honestly do not remember what we were doing during all these long hours in the house. I don’t remember the moment when it felt more normal. I know that I liked the city, although I do not know why exactly…


Staying at the beautiful big old house with Auntie and Uncle. Looking at the collection of old pipes. Looking at Olimpic games on TV. Eggs and toast for every breakfast. Driving in air conditioned car. Driving in non- air conditioned car. Driving around the city. Old fort. Diamond district. And the Mosque. The most beautiful Mosque I have ever seen. Ramadan. Iftar. Pakora, Samosa, fruit salad. Drinking beers in a hotel room. Meeting Haider and Nadia. Planning to eat a steak every night and always ending up eating Auntie’s delicious food. Rain in the morning. Power on, air codition on. Power off, air condition off. Black outs. Olimpics. Watching Olimpics in the middle of the night. Four dogs. One small grey fluffy cat, looking at T. with big sad eyes when he was leaving the room.Feeling lonely. Cigarettes.
Breakfast every morning – eggs, toasts, chicken, cheese, jam and tea, on the big old wooden table.
In Ramadan everything is closed. We ‘broke the law’ and went to Gloria Jean’s for coffee. I smoked so many cigarettes I felt sick. It is hot. We came back to the house.
People don’t stare like in Delhi.City is old and beautiful. Clean. There are no rubbish in the canal on this side.
I am trying to convince T. to go to Gilgit. Everybody says it’s amazing.
In this old beautiful house with caring Auntie I felt like a small kid. Especially when we were sneaking to the fridge in the night…


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