In the last 40 days, Lahore had winter, spring, summer, winter again – with a long weekend of Basant in Feb, and an Eid ahead. And slow, steady rains and a cold breeze.
With AQI better than Paris. For some days, at least.
Yes, the jackets were packed. And unpacked. Or kept stubbornly packed.
Such a whore Lahore is. Never yours. But never really away either. Always around, somewhere in the air and the sheet, and keeping you mesmerized every now and then with all the glories of the Mughals, Sikh rule, the British Crown, and all the faiths of the world spread around in old bricks and gardens raised by the unfaithful.
How can you forget this city that treats you with utmost royalty? While being seductively covered and uncovered in layers of history.
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