New Delhi, Mar 17: I have not been to Pakistan, ever, but I long to go. I crave to see the city which was once my parents' home. I grew up listening to nostalgic stories about Pindi. No true-blue Pindiwallah ever refers to the city as Rawalpindi. It comes as no surprise that Pakistan's most deadly weapon against India, Shoaib Akhtar, is a Pindi product. Even my grandfather, who lived to be a 100, remembers playing gali cricket. The game was deadly serious, played with no less fervour and passion than a world cup, with prestige and crores at stake. But there was more to Pindi than cricket. For every self-respecting Sikh, Panja saheb (called Hasan Abdal now), about 20 miles away, is a must-visit once in a lifetime. While passing through the deserted area, Guru Nanak had stopped here. He was denied water by a dervish, so the Guru drew water from under a stone. Enraged, the dervish threw a boulder at the Guru, who stopped the huge rock with his hand, the imprint of which devotees worship till today. But my father was young then and it wasn't his devotion as much as the longing for the delicious kulfi that Panja saheb was famous for that took him there. Is Marrassa still available in Pindi? Marrassa being a delicious melt-in-your mouth sweet made from ghee, atta, sugar and nuts. Does Saun da halwai still sell sweets in Haripur Mohala?
My uncle is particularly nostalgic about the various cinemas or theatres as they were called then. Watching a film was nothing like it is today. A box seat, the best in those times, cost just two annas, and my uncle remembers seeing Noorjahan at Gaiety theatre in Pindi. He was there for the first day, first show, and as was the custom those good old days, the star cast of the film would troop in during intervals to perform dance numbers and lure in more people to see the film. Murree was a hill station they escaped to. It is interesting, one end of the hill station peers into Pindi, while the other looks into the Kashmir valley. My maternal grandmother, very devout, was a regular visitor to Panja saheb and a very adventurous woman too. She would take off by herself from Pindi to Kashmir, urging her horse tonga on. It was a mare she was particularly attached to and shed tears when leaving her travelling companion behind. It took her merely a day for the journey between Pindi and Kashmir. For her, and her generation, Pakistan was never Pakistan. It was home, before politics, and geography, intruded.