I think one of the biggest blunder my parents made was to let me go on that exchange trip back in 2015 to Romania, because since after then it has been almost impossible for them to contain me within the bounds of our house. You see, I got high, I got high on the intoxication of freedom, and solitude and the high got me addicted to it. In the last two and a half years, I have visited three countries, and almost over twenty cities and towns. The adrenaline when the plane takes off, and the train starts moving, and the sound of my own breath that I can feel when I walk for miles with my shades on, it’s fodder to the well-being of my soul.
I haven’t posted about my travels yet, but I believe this recent excursion demands me to write because this was an altogether a very different experience. The first time I traveled internationally on my own, especially that backpacking trip across Turkey where in 15 days, with no prior bookings, or plans which cities I wanted to see, I discovered my potential. I used to go to the bus stand, stand there, see which city seemed more favorable after hitting some Google tabs, I would hop on a night bus, saving my night stay cost of hotels, get off in the morning, explore the city, and hop on another bus by the evening. Convenient, no? Not as much as it sounds, it was quite hard; my parents had no knowledge that I was absolutely alone in a country whose 80% of the population does not even speak English. It was difficult, and I used to take that as one of my achievements. But believe me you, all those very cute “wanderlusts, and travelers”, travelling alone abroad is one thing, and travelling alone in our own country, which has very limited means of infrastructure to support your commute, people are alien to the idea of a non-foreigner travelling alone, and that too a girl. Haw haye!
When 2018 started off, a friend and I decided to maintain journals while having our chai sessions at Roadside Cafe. That journal had my to do list for the year, I thought if I’d write it down, I’d be able to achieve it since the need to check off will keep biting me. Travel to Bahawalpur this year! I saw Bahawalpur’s pictures in some Instagram post some two years back, and I planned it with my bae back then, “chalo jee, kisi din sath chal kar dekeingay”, bae turned out to be bae-wafa and I thought khadday mein jaye Bahawalpur, Akeley kia jaungi.. Adhooray khuwab. Until recently I was like screw it, let’s do it on my own. 23rd march luckily gave us a long weekend, which I noted down earlier this year; because that was the weekend, I decided I’ll go off. However, work came in between, and the plan got delayed. Somehow, I got lucky again. My boss came to me and said I should go for my field visit to Multan. Hain, kia? A little taken aback, but gleaming after a few seconds, it gave me another hope. All said and done and after having communicated with my boss who looked at me astonishingly that why of all places would I choose Bahawalpur for an excursion after my sales visit? I flew to Multan on Tuesday with my return flight on Sunday from Bahawalpur airport. Yay! Also, I’d like to take a moment here to highlight, that ladies and gentlemen, THAT’S how you manage your work life balance. Life doesn’t end once you get into corp life, it’s all about will and smart management. True story.
Ok, guys friendly advice, pls March onwards sochiyega bi mat to go off to Southern Punjab, especially if you’re from Karachi the hawadaar Jannat. MEIN TOU MAR GAI. it was very hot. Like dehydrated kind. Got off at the Multan airport, and woah, it definitely surpassed my expectations because it was a very well maintained airport, with a lot of usage of blue tiles, since blue pottery is big in Multan. The city of Saints, I sighed. I got out of the airport to hail my Careem and proceeded towards my hotel. As soon as I got off the airport premises, on my left side I could see some fields, while on the right side I could see red bricked, short heighted walls. That particular sight is what has always reminded me of where I am; Punjab. Call me stereotypical or throwing a generalization, but be it Lahore, Gojra, Sargodha, Rawalpindi, or Multan in this matter, short heighted red bricked walls is something you’ll commonly find around you. Heading towards the hotel, I see posters of different political parties, I could tell the area was heavily dominated by PTIs supporter, upon asking the driver he tells me that this is the city of Shah Mahmood Qureshi, which made sense. My hotel was at Abdali Road, named after Abdali Mosque, which was also dressed in Blue tiles, and kaashkaari, a contemporary mosque fused with the cultural setting of the city.
Next day, my sales visit was planned for old Multan, near Bohar Gate. My car only took me so far, I had to get off way before the gate, and the walk inside of the old city was all on my own, since the streets were more like arteries, so narrow, with vendors by the side selling all kinds of things. As I went on for my work, from the car I saw Haram Gate, Pak Gate, Delhi Gate, and Dolat Gate. Intrigued as I was, I asked my driver to explain me its significance, and he replied that the city of Multan used to be contained within these gates, with arteries connecting in the middle. It was built like a Qila, a fort, so whenever they’d have the khadshaa of a war, they’d shut it down, and protect the people and the city. Genius, I thought to myself. However, now the city has populated well, and has more territories, and peripheries, which makes the up city.
The next day, after my sales visit, during my break, which was between 3 o clock – 6 o clock, I set out to see what the city is known for; to pay my regards to the saints. Now now, I am not a very religious person, but I am a very spiritual person, so these places were a must, but man, what a wrong timing I chose since jal kar raakh hogaii. Hailed a Careem for Shah Rukn I Alam, the driver dropped me at this gate, asking me to continue the journey on foot now since the car couldn’t go inside. Had to walk about a kilometer, but could spot the Shrine from miles away because of its giant figure. With my crinkle white dupatta wrapped around my face, and my yellow glasses popped in, I wasn’t fitting in well quite frankly, and hence the stares. I entered the shrine, had to take off my shoes, and it felt like my talwaay were rested upon dozakh, aag hi lag gai. Going around it, and inside, I paid my regards, and prayed to Allah. Took a few pictures here and there in the karak dhoop, but an interesting visit altogether.
There I also found out that he was grandson to Bahauddin Zakariya, which was my next station. Like Shah sahib, I said salam to Zakariya sahib too, which was like two kilometers away from Shah Sahib.
Walking all on foot, I felt liberated to a whole new level because a girl doing this on her own in Bucharest was one thing, but in a lesser urban city like Multan, where I knew no one, & vice versa, it was exhilarating. Next, I hopped on in my Careem, and headed to Shah Shams Tabriz, it was about 4.30 and I could still spare some time. Shrine of Shams Tabriz was near this famous bazaar called Hussainagai, which was a miniature version of Saddar, Karachi. Selling everything and anything, you name it and it was there. It was scorching hot, & so while I was ranting about it, my driver went on to say “baaji aurton ko dekhein, itni garmi mein bi inki shaaaping nai rukti,” I lightly chuckled, because it was so true.
Reaching the Shrine, I realized that most of the mureeds over there were Shiites. Said my salaam, and left, and the last stop I had to make was to the blue pottery shop where I bought a couple of small delicacies. Continued my work there, and the next day was the more awaited day where my official tour had ended and my own exploration had to begin.
So from there on, it was all on my own. It took me about two and a half hours reaching Bahawalpur from Multan on a rent a car, because the road is a little bit under construction. My father is an ex-army officer, so I had spoken to him and asked if somehow I could secure a room in the army mess, since first, I absolutely love the Cantonment areas because of the clean and isolated environment, which I can’t experience anymore in Karachi, and second, the army messes are quite cost effective. Driving up to my room, I was suddenly full of nostalgia and homely feeling. I spent most of my childhood in different cantonments around Pakistan, and the previous past ten years of my life, I was situated in Malir Cantt Karachi, until last year. Settling in my almost decent room, I took out my diary and started scribbling all the areas I had to see, and writing down all that I had learnt during Multan. Ali Sethi’s Mahi Mera playing on my JBL speaker, I started to nest in my little room. In the evening, I went out for a walk around the Cantt, covering almost two kilometers on foot while taking several photos of the beautiful vicinity, the sunset, the brown leaves on the ground fallen from the tree.
I popped into one of the shops to buy mosquito repellent, and bottle of juice, I walked some more. There were stares, obviously, a girl with an urban sense of clothing walking all alone in the stranded roads, was not something people there were used to. TGIF, Thank God it was Friday. Idk why, but eh. Saw the moon come up, it was a full moon, short of one day. Went back to my room, ordered some food, and ironed my clothes for next day. Plugged in my Netflix & caught up on the latest episode of Riverdale (DON’T JUDGE) and slept.
Next day, I was ready by 9.30, I had hailed a rent a car earlier for the day, which helped me commute. My first stop was the Bahawalpur Central Library. Entering, & finding a Rolls Royce parked at the front to welcome the visitors was just the beginning. Words will fall short if I even begin to explain what the library was like. I am a book sniffer. I buy books, open them, sniff them as if they’re my drugs, and feel euphoric. Entering that library was my Amsterdam where I could just get high anywhere & everywhere. That old smell of books reminded me of the diary my grandma gave me in which she used to scribble things during her youth days. Hell, I really can’t put in words what that place was like. Since picture is worth thousand words, here are some few hundred thousands of words explaining that I possibly can’t.
History. I am a history person, there was so much there, I couldn’t fathom. I search for spaces in Karachi where I could just go sit, and enjoy my vibe while having a cup of tea and reading some novel thoughts of Ashfaq Ahmad, and here it was. This gigantic place where that’s all people were doing. Upon asking the librarian, I got to know that the books here are either donated, or are funded by the government. It’s the second biggest library in the entire province, and the pillars of it are made of daal maash, chaawal, and doodh, this is precisely why it still stands untouched, undamaged. I spotted students sitting outside, hogging over a book discussing some theorem, nostalgia from IBA days filled my mind, sitting in Tabba block, hogging over kitaabs and notes.
Next to the library was the Bahawalpur Museum, which charged about 10 rupees for entrance and 10 rupees more if I wanted to take pictures. As I entered, I see this very tiny vintage Fiat. Upon inquiring, I got to know that Nawab Sadiq used to take his mummy around the palace in this car since she couldn’t walk much. How adorbz, and insanely royal. Mahal ghumanay ke liye alag gaari, wah.
The wall was covered with historical pre partition pictures starting from Tipu Sultan, War of Independence, Siraj ud Daula, Shaukat brothers, and moving all the way till Shaheed-e-Millat was sworn in as the Prime Minister Pakistan. One of the caption of the pictures was hand-written, and so it got me suddenly. I immediately inquired where did these pictures come in from, and I was told that these are all the original pictures. I was shaken up a bit because all this time I had seen these pictures in my history books, but never knew where the original ones rested. Wow, I moved on and saw the ruins of civilizations, left overs of the lifestyles of people of Cholistan and Bahawalpur, ruins from Harappa, Moen Jo Daro, the stupas of Gautama Buddha, the currency of Bahawalpur when it was a separate state, models of Derawar Fort, and so on. Infinite many little things I learnt, that I probably could not have learned from the books. Spending almost 45 minutes at the museum, I came out and next I visited Darbar Mahal.
For Darbaar Mahal, you need to take permission, the perks of Army allowed me to enjoy this facility. As soon as I entered, I saw this not so tall, but nonetheless very royal looking wide handsome palace. I sighed a little and entered with light steps, because I really didn’t want to infiltrate the beauty I was stepping into. Finding large portraitures of Nawab Sadiq and his ancestors, the tour guide told me all about his family, the palace’s history, what, when, why and how it was built. To say the least it was about 200 years old. The architecture infused with Victorian style, Hindu arches, and Muslim Balconies, synonymous to our generation Z; an influenced mix of cultures.
I took my time to explore the beauty of it, while the guide went on to narrate history of Bahawalpur, its formation, its adjoining with Pakistan, and its facilitation to Pakistan Army back in 1950s. Darbar Mahal, now hosts offices of Generals of the Army of the commanding and stationed unit in Bahawalpur, and sometimes hosts events for Corp Commander and so on. Infront of the mahal were the typical diwaan e khaas and diwaan e aam, baramdah for resting and musical events. The darbaaris would also come in with their faryaads there, and they’ll have a hearing session in those facilities. Near the mahal, there were two more mahals, which were named after the wives of the Nawab. Yahan humein ek kagaz ka phool nai milta, my thoughts to my own miserable self. (Self-deprecating humor is my self-defense mechanism)
I also visited Islamia University, Baghdaad campus which was like the first world version of Karachi University. With a radius of 7 km, the university holds about 52 faculties, with a mini zoo in between, some five girls and seven boys hostel, and numerous facilities. I was amazed to see a designated study area for girls which was an open air park with an artificial pond in between, basketball and tennis courts, and outdoor table and benches with lights fixed, so they are also able to study at night. A replica of the same was available for boys. Now, mind you I couldn’t avail these privileges even at a place like IBA. Feeling deprived of such a rich setting in an urban city like Karachi, I went back to my mess to rest for the remainder of the sunny day.
My evening visit had to conclude with Noor Mahal, which was my last stop for the weekend’s exploration tour. Alluringly illuminated, Noor Mahal was open to public, and was bigger than I had imagined. From what I’ve heard, this mahal was a gift to Nawab Sadiq IV’s wife, however she refused to reside there due to its proximity with a graveyard. She only ever spent a night there. After being severely consumed by the architecture of the grandeur, I left the mahal with a heavy heart because I swear I could have just stayed there.
Adding on to that, the realization of heading back to Karachi was sinking in too. I had my dinner at a local restaurant called Four Seasons, and headed back to my mess.
Next day, I spent working on my presentation and in the evening boarded flight back to Karachi from Bahawalpur airport, which by the way was like a mini hospital in Karachi. Sitting in an ATR plane was my first of experiences since I have usually flown in 777 or 707 Boeings, usual flights of Karachi, but this was like a tiny plane. Being the only woman in the entire plane, and sitting between two uncles adjacent to me, and one on each side, I could not have imagined myself being in a more uncomfortable place ever. Experience, I sighed, for these little things are what makes me bold enough to do all these wild adventures on my own.
I finished off my book on Rumi’s teachings, and just waited to touch down Karachi. Getting on to the Drigh Road from Airport, I got stuck for some 40 minutes because of the traffic. Yup, I was back in my city and its hustle bustle, but this time with a lifetime worth of memories!
