Excursions Off the Beaten Path

Epictober 2011: Experiencing Pakistan - Post 2 of 8

October 2011 was an unforgettable month in my life which I spent entirely on the road, a month where I was a nomad, living in different hotels and guest houses every few days. Much more interesting was the fact that it was a business trip, and I had been given a golden opportunity to visit multiple cities and towns across Pakistan. It was an opportunity that enhanced my learning in the professional world immensely, gave me some very good practical exposure of the operational end of board room strategies, and allowed me to explore and understand Pakistan itself.

During those four weeks, I encountered the great diversity in our country; sampled the local culture of the many places I went to, and discovered the great wealth of Pakistani history and heritage that has long lay hidden from the eyes of the world. To try and communicate my entire experience through one post would do injustice to my great journey. I will try to give a few different accounts with respect to the different lenses through which I saw Pakistan last month, and perhaps something more detailed about a few of the interesting experiences.

My journey started with a flight to Faisalabad, one of the major industrial centers in Pakistan and then shortly after arrival the very same day, a drive to another city in Punjab, Sargodha. Sargodha is known as the City of Eagles due to the Pakistan Air Force base in the area, and is also famous for its citrus production. However, it’s a small city and it felt that if all income in Pakistan were distributed evenly, we would have a place like Sargodha. Narrow roads with more donkey carts than cars, small and shabby shops for the most part make up this city. There are only two bridges in Sargodha, and no traffic signals on the roads. The city is surrounded by farms and villages for miles around, and Sargodha forms a major market center for the farmers who bring in their produce over here.

The people I met from the start of my trip were very welcoming, and that definition also extends to strangers whom I met on the way. Sargodha’s residents are always keen on having a good talk with you on things from politics to load shedding to cricket to “the state of Karachi as compared to other cities in Pakistan.” There isn’t much to do in Sargodha for an outsider; the place has little to offer in terms of leisure, or cultural and historic places. For most of my time in that city, I found myself going out for random walks in the evening after work, across the streets to nearby market places and masjids.

A scene of the Punjab countryside on the way to Khoshaab

One good excursion I had there was to a small town called Khoshaab which is about 30 to 40 kilometers away. The town is famous for its food, and it offered me a chance to see a bit more of the countryside of Punjab. The late afternoon drive from Sargodha offered plenty to see on both sides of the road. Through green fields and farmland, slices from the daily life of an average Pakistani could be seen flashing past the car. As the car rolled on the highway, I saw men driving tractors through the fields, women and children busy collecting water from wells, farmers busy harvesting the autumn crops, shepherds with their livestock in green meadows, and many more beautiful bits and pieces. On the way, we crossed River Jhelum, and through the bridge rails I could see fishermen on small boats, manning nets in the water.

Soon we arrived in Khoshaab, a semi-rural/urban town with the highway passing through it. The settlements went around 3-4 kilometers along the main highway road, and behind that, Khoshaab stretched to a few more streets on either side. Khoshaab was a busy place, a popular stop for merchants and traders on the way to larger cities. Along the road side, many trucks and vans with cargo were parked outside large storage houses, which seemed to fulfill the purpose of warehouses. One of my colleagues stepped out of our car to ask about restaurants nearby.

Within a few minutes, we had parked the car and proceeded across the road to a two storied local restaurant. Most of the cooking equipment like the grill was just outside the restaurant entrance, an arrangement that is quite popular throughout Pakistan. However, inside it was quite dim and hot because there was no power in the area at that time. One of the waiters recommended for us to sit upstairs where we could enjoy a good breeze.

We took our place at a worn out table with old chairs close to the high glass windows in the fairly empty restaurant. As the sound of traffic and pedestrians came in through the window, one of my colleagues from Multan started a random talk about another place called Mianwali: “People over here are generally nice, but if you wander out towards Mianwali, you’ll have to deal with totally different circumstances. Every other person is armed with a gun, and if you question them too much or stare at them for too long, you’ll get shot.”

Images of a desi wild west floated through my mind, where red neck Punjabis with big moustaches and AK-47s rode on the back of mules. I rejected the wild picture in my mind, “you have got to be joking, it’s hard to believe something like that happens here; is there no law and order?”

“Ineffective and corrupt police system under the heavy influence of local landlords.” 

The small restaurant in Khoshaab

It was after this brief conversation that a man on a nearby table approached us. “Excuse me, but I could not help overhearing your talk about Mianwali”, he said. “It’s just that I am also from Mianwali and I would like to know who told you those outrageous things about my hometown.”

I was just taken aback by this strange coincidence, while my other colleagues simply stared at the Mianwali local, wide eyed. “There’s nothing like that in Mianwali, you people are just clinging on to old tales from decades past. Some incidents like that did happen long ago, but you cannot call my whole community rogue because of that. Please come visit us in Mianwali, we are great with guests and we will treat you to the best fish you have ever tasted.”

My colleague pardoned his ill-knowledgeable talk on Mianwali, and we all introduced ourselves to the man. Our stranger turned out to be a merchant who traded goods to Mianwali, and had stopped in the area. That coincidental encounter was entertaining in the least, and showed the Pakistani love for tall tales, exaggeration and carrying wrong perceptions forward just for sheer enjoyment; it is also a huge irony for us all.

Stopping for prayers in Khoshaab. Small, rural Masjids have their own charm.

After a late lunch, we stopped and prayed at a small, humble mosque near the restaurant before making our way back to Sargodha. Most of the people praying there were local residents of Khoshaab: simple, humble traders who did not have much education, and were probably employed in the business since their teens.

On the way back, we stopped on the banks of River Jhelum just in time to catch the sunset. There was a small dhaaba there selling tea, fish and pakoras. A few children from a nearby village had also strayed to the riverside, and were watching a fisherman try to make his catch in a boat a few meters out in the water. The children came to beg us for food and money as soon as they saw us. Life in this part of Pakistan was slow and relaxed compared to the big metropolitans from where we came. People were usually engrossed in their daily lives but the signs of hardship and other faults in this part of society were clearly visible. Children were trained to beg at an early age, illiterates followed religion in blind faith and people believed rumors and tall stories without any credence to hard facts.

There was so much beauty as the sun turned the calm water into shades of gold and orange, but as the fisherman’s boat glided along, it disturbed those brilliant shades, and its black silhouette showed marks of heavy toil and labor which had never earned its due reward. As the boat glided west, a Pakistan flag on its tail caught some of the fading glow from the sunlight, and the children that had come begging to us went back to the bank to watch the boat and play some more. It is clear that Pakistan is largely misunderstood, and has immense wealth that goes largely unappreciated by all of us. Yet the sweet calmness that surrounded the sunset carried a sublime sense of sorrow and hardship, and it was obvious that a lot was never done to exploit the region’s true potential.

Sunset on the banks of River Jhelum, a Pakistan flag is visible on a fisherman's boat.