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        Whereas 
      the 
      
      blessings of the dead are always a great asset it must be the goodness of 
      the hardworking folks, some of whom we had the pleasure of meeting, that 
      keeps our ancient city alive and kicking. Despite everything, Lahore is 
      Lahore 
 There are many hyperboles Lahoris invoke when proudly talking about their 
      great metropolis. Some of these are world famous or at least 
      subcontinent-famous such as, ‘Lahore is Lahore’ or ‘One who has never seen 
      Lahore has not been born’. People in many parts of Pakistan and also 
      Amritsar, Chandigarh, Delhi, Bangalore, Mumbai and the rest of India and 
      in faraway places such as London, New York, Vancouver and wherever else I 
      go connect with me because they happen to belong to that city.
 
 Here in Stockholm, we have been meeting regularly once a month in the 
      evening since 1991 to talk to our heart’s fill just about anything, but 
      since the majority of us have a Lahore connection we end up talking about 
      it most of the time, recalling old cricket matches and kabaddi 
      tournaments, Basant celebrations and famous wrestlers but also notorious 
      badmashes (mafia dons).
 
 All this is part of diaspora sentimentality and I suppose immigrants can 
      never do without their nostalgias and imaginary pasts. On the other hand, 
      the homeland, or rather the hometown in case of Lahoris, which they long 
      for changes and transforms as time passes by and things are never the same 
      as when they left. The more removed they are in time from the present the 
      greater the nostalgia, but also greater the disappointment on coming home 
      and seeing familiar people gone and places they loved no longer there.
 
 I recently spent several days in late December and early January in the 
      ancient Walled City. I took with me the well-known Punjabi poet and writer 
      Ahmad Salim. We went to Taxali Gate visiting the famous chamber of the 
      late people’s poet of Punjab, Ustad Daman. In the room Ustadji used to 
      receive eager visitors and meet old friends and political comrades is now 
      the office of the Daman Academy. I recalled many meeting. We met the 
      proletarian writer Qamar Yurish and talked to him about his life-long 
      struggle to make the world a fairer place. We also met a young man, Natiq 
      Hussain, who spent a whole afternoon with us while we searched for people 
      who could tell us about the old Lahore.
 
 We went inside Bhati Gate seeking the Chomala locality where Mohammad Rafi 
      once lived and worked in his father’s shop. Many people gathered around us 
      and the elders talked about the legendary singer whom they knew as a close 
      friend when he was still a very young man struggling for a break. Bombay 
      (Mumbai) gave him that break. It was really very moving to hear them speak 
      with so much emotion and feeling; things I have not experienced for a long 
      time living in the West.
 
 In the same area once lived AR Kardar who pioneered the Lahore film 
      industry but then went and settled in Bombay. Other famous names 
      associated with Bhati Gate are that of Allama Iqbal whose bethak (sitting 
      room) we saw. Little further on once lived the actor Om Parkash. The house 
      of Pran was not far from there. We also went across the Circular Road 
      briefly to visit Mohni Road to look at the house of the veteran singer 
      Shamshad Begum. The great short-story writer Krishan Chander also lived on 
      Mohni Road. I intend to find out exactly where on my next visit.
 
 The visits to Lohari Gate, Mori Gate, Mochi Gate and what now remains of 
      Shahalmi Gate were also very memorable. Everywhere people just assembled 
      and began talking to us when they realised we wanted to learn more about 
      the old Lahore, whose soul remains innocent and pure despite all the 
      injuries to the body from the tyranny of time, the poverty of many of its 
      inhabitants and gross neglect by the municipal and other authorities. I 
      noticed that in almost every street and corner the locals had their 
      bethaks (sitting places) and discussions took place everyday. I envied 
      them that invaluable social bonding.
 
 Inside Said Mittha Bazaar we first met Iftikhar Sahib who very kindly 
      offered to show us around the old buildings in that area. He turned out to 
      be an educated man who everyday went on a round of narrow and winding 
      streets, holding his bike with one hand talking to people to find out if 
      they needed any help writing an application or petition or some other such 
      task. He did all this selflessly, without any charge. This was very clear 
      from the way people blessed him for his devotion to their welfare. We met 
      Azim Pehlwan, a famous weight-lifter who had won many gold and silver 
      medals in national and international competitions. He took us home and we 
      talked at length about old and present Lahore. Everywhere we went the 
      people were fantastic, but they complained about the apathy and disdain 
      with which a power-wielder treated ordinary citizens.
 
 The grievances were put forth very eloquently by Haji Muhammad Shad, a 
      poor but very proud young man who ran a tea-stall in Haveli Mian Khan, 
      Rang Mahal. The glint in his eyes radiated immense intelligence and 
      awareness. He told me he was 40 years old. He complained that poor people 
      like him could not afford to pay the taxes and rates the government kept 
      imposing on them. He remarked, “You ask me if I send my children to 
      school, well I do but you know I can’t afford to feed them properly. The 
      tap water we get is contaminated with filth from the leaking sewerage. It 
      has a nauseating smell and drinking it gives us stomach diseases.” He 
      complained bitterly that the elected nazims, mayors and councillors did 
      nothing to alleviate their hardships. They were corrupt and worse than 
      thugs. He wanted President Pervez Musharraf to come and see how people 
      live in his locality and then say what he and his government had done for 
      people like him.
 
 There is a widespread belief among indigenous Lahoris that holy men and 
      saints buried inside the Walled City and outside it guard Lahore from harm 
      and evil. I believe that whereas the blessings of the dead are always a 
      great asset it must be the goodness of the hardworking folks, some of whom 
      we had the pleasure of meeting, that keeps our ancient city alive and 
      kicking. Despite everything, Lahore is Lahore.
 
 The author is an associate professor of political science at 
      
      
      Stockholm University. He is the author of two books. His email address is 
      Ishtiaq.Ahmed@statsvet.su.se
  
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