Lahore, Pakistan: Pain, Pleasure and Prayer

The headline screams: 43 Killed in Pakistan Blasts. The story gives the details. Suicide bombers hit a military section and the crowded market known as the R. A. Bazaar in Lahore, Pakistan. I read the details of another wave of violence carried out by Islamic extremist. Even though I am removed by time and distance from the place and the events, I hurt inside.

Twenty years ago I was in that Lahore bazaar and in recalling it my mind floods with pleasant memories. I had done a series of workshops in Karachi with school, business and religious leaders from around the country. As I neared the end of my stay my host offered to fly me to Lahore. A class member said her uncle lived there and would be my host. And what a gracious host he was. He welcomed me to his home. Dinner was set before us and his wife who cooked it hurried back into the kitchen for it was deemed inappropriate for this woman to be in our presence while we ate. As I got better acquainted I told my host that I enjoyed the meal. And I asked for permission to personally tell his wife that. He agreed and said it was okay for me to have a conversation with her- with him as interpreter.

The next day was tour day. My host showed me the marvelous centuries- old beautiful sites of Lahore. He took me to the famous Shalimar Gardens. While there he explained that it was the hour of prayer so he took out his prayer mat, knelt on the grass and prayed.
We shared our faith with mutual respect.

Later he offered to take me shopping for some take-home souvenirs. To my surprise he invited his wife to join us. She watched me but said nothing as I bought a small brass vase to take home. Then she disappeared. A little later she returned with an identical vase. “These would make a nice pair,” she said.” I think your wife would enjoy these side by side.”

When I left the next day she came to say good-bye. Her husband translated for her. She asked him to thank me: I was the only non-Pakistani male with whom she had ever
spoken. Together they gave me a peacock feather as a symbol of a brief but beautiful friendship.

And now I read of that beautiful city being blown up in the name of God. My prayers go to a God of all creation, whom I know desires peace upon earth.