A Lonely Tree on the Queens Road Lahore
I had to go to
Lahore for a day and my train dropped me there in the early morning at 4:30am
(Pakistani trains follow the time schedule now). So I had like 4 hours to kill
before the office where I had to go even opens. I walked to Lahore food street
Anarkali still I got there in 45 minutes and the shopkeepers were just starting
out :D. ultimately I got myself some breakfast and some tea then again I walked to the point
where I was intended to go. When I got there it was 7 and still I had like 90
minutes to spare. It was the queen’s road of Lahore.
I found myself a
bench on the road side, shoved my earphones and just sat there looking at the
people. It was the morning of a working day, so it was full of the typical big
city hassle. People in hurry, getting breakfast things from the shops, kids
going to school, youngsters to the universities, busy bus
stops, busy roads just everything and everyone was in a great hurry.
Only two living
things were sitting calmly on the side of that road that day, Me on the one
side and an old big tree on the opposite side. At that moment I felt a
connection with that tree, it was like the whole world has gone silent and just
we are talking to each other. It was like we just synced in with each other. He
was telling me stories, stories of the older times. Yes! he was old, really
old, something like 200 years old. He saw the transition of this place from
inhabited land to one of the most expensive place, he saw the fall of Mughal
empire, he saw Sikhs here, he witnessed the British Raaj.
He told me how
they started building a proper road here to connect the two major roads, he
also told me how many like him were cut down. He made me visualise the whole
construction of the major land marks like the museum, Ganga Ram hospital, Aitchison
college and Fatima Jinnah medical college.
Then, I had to
go. He had so much to tell me, but I had to go so he gave me just one line
covering his whole life experience in three words,
Theme of story was inspiring...
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