La
Licorne
ROUNDTRIP
to LAHORE
What is called a
'Flying Coach' is nothing more than a bus for road transport with reasonable
space for the legs and an air conditioner supposedly in working state. The
price is fair but high enough to shy passengers with live poultry and the like
away. I don't know whether it is forbidden, but it is definitely not done to
take crying babies on board. At least not on that evening of the 21st of May
when I paid US$ 12.50 for a seat on such a coach. After all the handshaking of the
past days I got the comfort of a good sleep while dreaming away about better
times ahead.
|
by
Diane Marie Jacky
|
|
Four hours later I
got off at a bus station 280 km to the southeast and hired a rickshaw. We had driven
a few streets when I realized that I had left my jacket on the bus. I don't
know how he did it, but somehow the driver relocated the very bus at an
entirely different place from where I had got off. I am in no doubt the
coachman had already gone through the pockets, but wisely he had not
transferred their contents. Was it with a wry smile that he returned the object
in good order? At such moments I know how to show my gratitude, so I reached
out for a handshake. At first he looked disappointed, but his face cleared up
when he felt the crisp paper in my hand. His fingers plucked the folded
banknote away while I fixed his cheerful eyes with a friendly smile.
It seems that the
rickshaw is present everywhere in and around Lahore. As soon as they are
engaged they start racing at top speed in a dangerous contest to overtake one
another. So when I saw my driver easing his buttocks and shifting to a safe
speed it became obvious that he had lied about knowing the address I had given
him. Lucky for him I had some memory of the layout in that particular
neighborhood where people are used to arrive in air-conditioned sedans, instead
of in a rickshaw. So accompanied by a lot of pointing, shouting and cursing we
reached the residence of my friends at the Polo Ground. I gave the fellow the
agreed amount of money and, pretending not to understand his gestures for more,
entered the yard.
It appeared that the
other guest had already arrived. So Mieke and I looked forward to a most pleasant
weekend.
That Saturday I engaged the
fourth member of our team, a sociologist in her early thirties. Despite her
advanced pregnancy Mehjabeen would be on and off with us in the field the
coming time.
read
on about MURREE COUNTRY