I know I have over-saturated my blog with Pakistani drama but its a result of an unfinished, cathartic overspill -- much like the Gulf of Mexico oil catastrophe: sometimes you cannot put a lid on it!
One interesting thing happened when we visited the famous Badshahi Mosque or the 'Emperor's Mosque' in Lahore. It is the second largest mosque in Pakistan and South Asia and the fifth largest mosque in the world. Epitomising the beauty, passion and grandeur of the Mughal era, it is Lahore's most famous landmark and a major tourist attraction in Lahore. This monument is surrounding by the old Lahore fort and a Sikh temple (Sikhs from India need a visitor's visa to be able to come and worship there). I had been to this mosque back in 1991 but my girls had never seen it in all its glory.
The decision to sightsee was an impulsive decision made by my brother in law's father. We went to visit their family one Sunday afternoon and upon hearing that I had not taken the girls to see any sights in Pakistan, he immediately ordered the car to be brought around to take us to the mosque and fort. I told him we would drive there but not get out of the car. He only smiled and smoothed his moustache.
When we arrived at the gated entrance, there were hoards of people surrounding the front. I told him to turn the car around because we had seen enough, but my cousin insisted that he knew the chief of security and that he would get permissions to enter. My stomach flipflopped and I felt the beads of sweat form on my temple. Great. He wanted us to get out and walk around. I could hear the girls whispering about not wanting to leave the car. When I looked over at them, their eyes pleaded with me in silence. I curled my upper lip under my nose -- yes, a very unattractive habit but one I performed when under duress. The girls knew I was not impressed.
My cousin and his brother sweet-talked the chief of security who after finding out that my cousin was the deputy chief of engineering in all of Lahore, allowed our car to enter the grounds where no cars were permitted! If you had power, money and connections, Pakistan was in the palm of your hands.
The crowd opened up as we drove in, with people trying to peek in the car to see who we were. I covered my face with my shawl. Great. They must have thought we were: A) some government officials B) some famous cricket player, or C) some rich family who bribed our way onto the grounds. Instead of diverting attention away from us, my family succeeded once again with putting us in the spotlight.
We drove in and parked the car next to a garden. I felt guilty as we awkwardly got out only to be watched by a hundred pair of eyes. We shouldn't be here, I thought as we walked up the stairs leading to the mosque. We removed our shoes and hopscotched across the tiles to the water-soaked straw runners that protected our feet from being burned. The girls laughed as they criss-crossed across the tiled floors to more shaded areas to avoid the heat. Good. They seemed happy, I thought as my shoulders relaxed. The mosque was more beautiful than I remembered it. The girls were snap happy, taking pictures at every angle. But it was my husband who noticed something unusual.
Squeeze me? What could be unusual after hearing about my entire trip? Well, he asked us to look up into the sky. Whenever we stepped out in Lahore, we saw black crows everywhere. In many cultures, the folklore of the crow is associated to the representation of evil, darkness, superstition and death. Besides the pesky pigeon, crows were in abundance wherever we went. But over the Badshahi Mosque, we did not see one single crow. Instead, the sky was full of eagles flying directly above us. Beautiful, large eagles with incredible wingspans.
My husband looked over at me and shook his head in amazement. As we prayed our afternoon prayer in one of the oldest mosques in the country, this was one of the rare moments I felt peace, and for an instant, my heart soared like the birds above us.
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