My Teenage Years in Lahore

As I sit here on my desk at work, sipping my persimmon white tea in a delicate persian tea cup, I close my eyes and let my mind wander to my teenage years in Lahore, Pakistan. My grandmother’s four story house on Mcleod Road appears before my closed eyes. Arched semi-lunar windows on the second floor with wedges of colored stained glass, and the balcony overflowing with jasmine, bougainvillea, queen of the night, and tomato vines. My dadi’s ring necked green parrot squacking at the top of its tiny lungs, and the parakeets singing their evening song as the afternoon transformed into dusk.

The sun setting over the western horizon, and the sky filled with subtle hues of orange and lavender. The caocophony of the evening traffic on the busy Mcleod Road. I lean on the Balcony, watching the tongas, Rickshaws, cars, trucks, bicycles, and donkey carts go by. My grandmother brewing some evening tea in the kitchen, and the manservant Tufail frying some fresh Namak Paraas. My Baji and me doing homework on the dining table under the watchful eyes of our Phuppho. Its almost time for my favorite animated series, Thunder Cats and I am rushing to finish my homework before then. Dadi Ammi is waiting for my grandfather whom everyone calls Daddy to finish his Maghrib prayers so that she can serve him evening tea. My grandfather changes from his kurta and Muradabadi pajama into his tweed Suit and asks my Dadi Ammi, Begum Sahib “Meri Chai la dijeye”. Dadi Ammi brings him the Chai, and my dadi tells him not to forget to bring Fresh Paan leaves and then hands him a small silver case with two paans wrapped in freshly soaked muslin.

Then my grandfather grabs his cane, puts on his Karakuli Topi and leaves for his Shop. After he departs, everyone congregates into the Drawing room. Dadi Ammi reclines comfortably on the bolster pillows, and asks me, "O bacchey, zara mujhay Bawarchi Khaney sey mera Paandaan tu la dey, aur us Malaoon Tufail to keh dey key Raat key khaney keliye taaza Aata Goondh ley". Dadi Ammi then busies herself with finishing the patchwork quilt she had started a few days ago, while I start playing with the long hair of my phuppho and start braiding it for her.

My Dadi Ammi looks at us and smiles teasingly, " Is Asim keliye hum bohat lambey balon wali Bahu layein gay". I get embarrassed and my phuppho starts laughing.

Dadi Ammi tells me to go watch my cartoon in Phuppho’s room and asks me to turn the channel to DoorDarshan so she can watch ChitrHaar.....

I look back and recall my school teachers at Customs Public School with love, reverence and much fondness. There was Miss Nadira Saeed, the Vice Principal; a tall beautiful fair lady dressed fashionably in graceful colors with her silky brown hair coiffed elegantly. I don't know much about her personal life, but looking back I think she was educated abroad, perhaps in England because she used to speak Urdu with a foreign accent. She used to tell me often, "Asim, you have such a melodious voice".

Then there was the Principal, Sir Mughees ul Hassan; a man of commanding presence and with an unspoken kindness expressed through considerate care shown with great subtlety. Then there were two of my favorite teachers, Miss Samina kehlani and Mrs. Ruby Sagheer. Miss Samina Kehlani was the epitome of kindness, good natured-ness and warmth and taught me Highschool Biology. Miss Ruby Sagheer on the other hand was graceful, elegant, very caring and maternal. She left during my eighth grade in school to join her husband in the UK. I missed her much.

Our PE teacher, the absolutely wonderful and perfectly paternal Sir Aali. I had him as a PE teacher since I was in the 4th grade. He used to take us on Boy Scout trips to the Northern areas to regional jamborees. During our play hour in school, I remember he would gather all the boys around him and tell us stories. He was a great story teller, and told us classics like Daastan-e-Hazrat Sulayman, Malika Saba and that forgetful Zil-e-Huma HudHud. I miss him now and remember him with great fondness as he was one of the people with great influence on the shaping of my character. He was always kind to me despite the fact I was a chubby boy and the shortest in my class. He gave me new Naats to learn and was very supportive of my singing. He took me to Naat Khwani Competitions all over Lahore and once to Islamabad. I remember when I was in 10th Grade, we had a All Pakistan Naat Khwani Competition in Avari Lahore and a certain Federal Minister was the Chief Guest. I won the third prize for my school, and Sir Aali, all my teachers, and parents were extremely proud.

Sitting at my desk, looking at the jade fronds of the lucky bamboo stalks resting placidly in the crystal vase, I am reminded of the beautiful garden in my home in Lahore. A spacious front garden with a green manicured lawn and wide flower beds in all four edges while the side facing the road was screened by a tightly pruned privet hedge. Royal palms, Sago palms and beautiful fishtailed palms lovingly planted by my mother had matured well and flourished. Pink Rose bushes were abloom with delicate fragrant blossoms. In Spring, the Mango trees at the edge of the garden would bloom infusing the air with a lemon balm scent. The Jamun trees stood tall with their purplish dark green leaves and the variegated bouganvillea bloomed profusely all over the front awnings and the neighbor’s wall. My three German Shepherd dogs Portia, Brutus and Kizie roamed free in the garden reclining lazily on the grass at dusk. My stepmother lounging on the lawn chairs and me sitting next to her and squeezing some kinoos for fresh orange juice, and my sister sitting on the swing brushing her hair, and humming a tune.

I think back to the two years I had the most fun in Pakistan. I was fourteen years old, and had just passed the Matriculation Exams. I remember going to Government College, Lahore and Govt. Forman Christian College, Lahore to collect their prospectus. Govt College was very far from my house but FC was practically in my backyard. My father had attended FC as well, so I applied for admission there. I got admitted there. It was such a beautiful place. Old stately buildings, wide manicured lawns, flowerbeds brimming with roses, marigolds and Cockscombs, and giagantic mature tropical trees shading the wide walkways.

Four of my neighbors and my good friends Syed Raheel Asghar, Saqib, Daanish, and Sajjid luckily got enrolled with me and placed in the same section. We would all go to College together, attend classes and in between classes, hang out in the Canteen. The Canteen had the best Fruit Chat, and Potato Cutlets. During my first month at FC in first year, I made some new friends and added them to our group. A really nice guy from Crescent School named Syed Faisal Masrur, and a really funny personality from the Androon Sheher Lahore named Raza. All of us had such a fun time at FC. All of us attended NCC training together and Raheel ended up being the Torch Bearer.

During my first Year, Imran Khan visited our college at the Annual Convocation and I was asked by the Vice Principal of the College to sing a Milli Naghma (Patriotic Song). After the song, the principal praised me and gave me the Title of Bul-Bul-e-FC College. I became a little famous after that, and these guys from Jamiat Talba-e-Islam drove me absolutely nuts. They were very nice to me, but anytime they would see me sitting in the gardens or the Canteen, they would request me to sing ghazals or songs for them. I remember my years at FC as the two golden years of my life.
Life was indeed good then.

Sigh