third eye
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Nice read. The highlighted parts remind me of my experiences in Jodhpur
More tales from the land of milk and honey | Pakistan | News | Newspaper | Daily | English | Online
There was (and perhaps still is) a saying amongst government servants that one always cried on a posting to Bahawalpur, but one cried even more when leaving it. This is true, for I have seen many of my friends grieving over the prospects of moving to this city and then I have watched amusedly as these very individuals grieved even more when posted out from it.
What was it then that made this semi-desert piece of God’s earth so attractive to people? To me, the answer lay in the local population and their way of life - simple, friendly and courteous to an unimaginable extent. There was a time, when if one ran short of money to pay for something that was fancied, the shop owner would take one look at you and politely tell you not to worry, but pay the next day. It was a credit to all concerned that in those days of old, not one customer abused this trust. There was, however, another story told by locals, which featured an old well somewhere in the city and some verses that were thrown down it to keep the people from leaving, in a desperate bid to populate the city, when it was young.
A trip to the markets in the old city quarter was like a journey back through time. These bazaars were composed of narrow shop-lined streets, with awnings stretched out in front to keep the sun away. It was the jewellers and embroidered kurta makers that attracted most out of town customers, as these items were sought after by patrons from far and wide.
Bicycle rickshaws were a common sight on the roads in the days of yore. These contraptions seated two passengers and were pedalled around by an individual whose stamina awed the likes of me. It was in the 1990s that this form of transport was abolished and replaced by auto rickshaws - a change that shattered the city’s peace and quiet and poisoned the hitherto clean air with fumes.
Bahawalpur city once boasted a high earthen embankment around it, passable through four gates. This ‘bund’ served the dual purpose of defence against aggression and a bulwark against flooding in Sutlej River. No trace of this ‘bund’ now exists, but the gates or what remains of them can still be seen.
The Bikaneri Gate faced in the direction of Bikaner and its restored version can still be seen by visitors. The Derawari Gate looked towards the desert and the distant Derawar Fort. It was demolished and never rebuilt, but an opening between buildings marks the spot where this portal once stood. The Shikarpuri and Multani Gates were so named because the roads to Shikarpur and Multan passed through them. My interaction with some old residents of Bahawalpur indicated that there was a fifth entry point into the city known as Borh Gate. This was, however, never classified as a gate by many, because it consisted of just a narrow opening in the embankment.
Mai Jindaan was a name that became a legend in and around Bahawalpur a long time ago. According to an account, this remarkable lady masterminded and led numerous daredevil acts of looting the rich, swimming across the Sutlej and returning to her hideout by the same route. She was ultimately caught and imprisoned for her crimes. In a movie like twist to the story, there came a day when one of the rulers of Bahawalpur State decided to visit his jail. His Highness noticed that a comely looking female prisoner reciting the Holy Quran did not rise at his approach. When asked, the woman, who was none other than Mai Jindaan, boldly replied that she was paying homage to the Highest Entity in the universe and could not rise for someone as lowly as the nawab. Already fascinated by her daring exploits and now taken in by her reply, the nawab proposed to her and took her as his bride. The tomb of this great woman is now a prominent landmark in Bahawalpur city and attracts visitors from all over the area.
It may come as a surprise to many floriculturists, but Bahawalpur was (and continues to be) home to some of the finest roses in the region. The local gardeners were of the opinion that the size, quality, colour and texture of this King of Flowers, was due to the sandy soil of the area. The doyen of rose cultivators in Bahawalpur was a venerable old gentleman, who came from a leading family of the area and whose elders had held high office in the court of the nawabs. Jalwana Sahib was not only gracious and bighearted, but he was a man for all seasons and immensely popular. His once a year garden party in his sprawling ‘rose garden’ that stretched along the banks of the Kudwala Canal, was an event that was looked forward to by all his friends and acquaintances. I considered myself honoured and privileged to be one of these lucky ones and it is to the memory of this great man that I am dedicating this week’s column.
The writer belongs to a very old and established family of the Walled City. His forte is the study of History.
More tales from the land of milk and honey | Pakistan | News | Newspaper | Daily | English | Online
There was (and perhaps still is) a saying amongst government servants that one always cried on a posting to Bahawalpur, but one cried even more when leaving it. This is true, for I have seen many of my friends grieving over the prospects of moving to this city and then I have watched amusedly as these very individuals grieved even more when posted out from it.
What was it then that made this semi-desert piece of God’s earth so attractive to people? To me, the answer lay in the local population and their way of life - simple, friendly and courteous to an unimaginable extent. There was a time, when if one ran short of money to pay for something that was fancied, the shop owner would take one look at you and politely tell you not to worry, but pay the next day. It was a credit to all concerned that in those days of old, not one customer abused this trust. There was, however, another story told by locals, which featured an old well somewhere in the city and some verses that were thrown down it to keep the people from leaving, in a desperate bid to populate the city, when it was young.
A trip to the markets in the old city quarter was like a journey back through time. These bazaars were composed of narrow shop-lined streets, with awnings stretched out in front to keep the sun away. It was the jewellers and embroidered kurta makers that attracted most out of town customers, as these items were sought after by patrons from far and wide.
Bicycle rickshaws were a common sight on the roads in the days of yore. These contraptions seated two passengers and were pedalled around by an individual whose stamina awed the likes of me. It was in the 1990s that this form of transport was abolished and replaced by auto rickshaws - a change that shattered the city’s peace and quiet and poisoned the hitherto clean air with fumes.
Bahawalpur city once boasted a high earthen embankment around it, passable through four gates. This ‘bund’ served the dual purpose of defence against aggression and a bulwark against flooding in Sutlej River. No trace of this ‘bund’ now exists, but the gates or what remains of them can still be seen.
The Bikaneri Gate faced in the direction of Bikaner and its restored version can still be seen by visitors. The Derawari Gate looked towards the desert and the distant Derawar Fort. It was demolished and never rebuilt, but an opening between buildings marks the spot where this portal once stood. The Shikarpuri and Multani Gates were so named because the roads to Shikarpur and Multan passed through them. My interaction with some old residents of Bahawalpur indicated that there was a fifth entry point into the city known as Borh Gate. This was, however, never classified as a gate by many, because it consisted of just a narrow opening in the embankment.
Mai Jindaan was a name that became a legend in and around Bahawalpur a long time ago. According to an account, this remarkable lady masterminded and led numerous daredevil acts of looting the rich, swimming across the Sutlej and returning to her hideout by the same route. She was ultimately caught and imprisoned for her crimes. In a movie like twist to the story, there came a day when one of the rulers of Bahawalpur State decided to visit his jail. His Highness noticed that a comely looking female prisoner reciting the Holy Quran did not rise at his approach. When asked, the woman, who was none other than Mai Jindaan, boldly replied that she was paying homage to the Highest Entity in the universe and could not rise for someone as lowly as the nawab. Already fascinated by her daring exploits and now taken in by her reply, the nawab proposed to her and took her as his bride. The tomb of this great woman is now a prominent landmark in Bahawalpur city and attracts visitors from all over the area.
It may come as a surprise to many floriculturists, but Bahawalpur was (and continues to be) home to some of the finest roses in the region. The local gardeners were of the opinion that the size, quality, colour and texture of this King of Flowers, was due to the sandy soil of the area. The doyen of rose cultivators in Bahawalpur was a venerable old gentleman, who came from a leading family of the area and whose elders had held high office in the court of the nawabs. Jalwana Sahib was not only gracious and bighearted, but he was a man for all seasons and immensely popular. His once a year garden party in his sprawling ‘rose garden’ that stretched along the banks of the Kudwala Canal, was an event that was looked forward to by all his friends and acquaintances. I considered myself honoured and privileged to be one of these lucky ones and it is to the memory of this great man that I am dedicating this week’s column.
The writer belongs to a very old and established family of the Walled City. His forte is the study of History.
