Tour Diary

It’s been over 24 hours since IC 845 landed in Lahore. Five days in Delhi, prior to take off, had groomed one for the Lahore experience – a shivering chill, broad roads, Punjabi attires, grassy footpaths, the Pakistan High commission ...

Usually, while visiting any country, the contrast immediately splashes on your face the moment one exits the airport. In Lahore, one looks first for the similarities and spots them pretty easily. Then occasionally, often unexpectedly, sometimes overwhelmingly, the difference strikes.

When do you actually realise that you're in a foreign land? The moment currency notes don’t fit in your wallet; the moment you don’t fit in the auto rickshaws; the moment you act really polite, as you instinctively do while in another country, and get gaping stares from the locals, who have not a clue that you are a foreigner; the moment the locals learn you are an Indian and numb you with their hospitality ...

Layer by layer, mostly when you least expect it, the difference begins to unfold. Therein lies a great thrill. The charm is in two-way discovery – when the locals find out that you are Indian before you find out their reaction. Whether it is a security guard outside the Bagh-e-Jinnah, or a shopkeeper at Liberty Market, there is a certain joy in introduction.