I finally gave in to the weather gods and borrowed a sweater from my sister. The next step will probably be to buy socks to prevent the chilblains that are a perpetual feature of Lahore winters.
Not that Lahore winters are particularly cold but houses are designed for summer so are cold, covered in marble and virtually impossible to heat, or at least our house is. Combine this with the very thin leather soles of my Pakistani chappals and my circulation inevitably takes a battering here.
It’s been 24 hours since I arrived, and as usual it feels rather dismal and enervating. It’s always a delight to meet family, but living abroad one does travel in a different direction, and the parts of one’s life one has been careful to shed feel particularly hard to grapple with.
One mixed pleasure was to inform a particular relative that I am a dedicated housewife and watch the interest and respect ebb from his eyes. A pleasure because it means I will be spared the constant demands others with more in the way of worldly goods are subjected to. But mixed because I am fully aware that by the measure of a Pakistani with my upbringing, I am hardly a success – I don’t earn in the millions, I don’t have a staff of hundreds and I don’t work for a globally known concern.
The food has been delicious of course. Haleem from Garhi Shahu on special request for dinner. It was really delightful and fulfilled a months-long craving. Lunch was a bit of haleem and then my grandmother’s khhagga, small catfish cooked in a very light soupy gravy and eaten with steamed basmati. This is a speciality in Inner City Lahore. She learned the recipe from her long-dead sisters-in-law.
Another downside of returning to Lahore: a summons from a visitor to my grandmother. I shall therefore be off.