A friend and I drove (were driven) down to Multan today, which is where I am now. It was not a entirely smooth journey, as yesterday the driver who was supposed to take us called in sick with the hiccups so we had to arrange an alternative at some inconvenience. Then we left in the morning and promptly got stuck in a traffic jam at the entrance to the motorway. Luckily a convoy of Sikh pilgrims was stuck with us and was waved through, so we went in their slipstream. Then on reaching the toll plaza it turned out that the motorway itself was closed – we asked a policeman why and he raised his fists in frustration and shouted ‘vaisay!’
We went parallel to the motorway as far as Sharqpur which is famed for its tiny gulab jamun served in small clay pots, but didn’t have any and finally were en route to Multan. My companion, a childhood friend, is well informed about our ultimate destination of Uchh and had an old out-of-print on its history which was a pleasant read along the way, but she is also an inveterate backseat navigator who can’t actually navigate so I got a bit irritated at times.
In Multan we are staying with the lady of the manor who, anticipating our arrival and my interests, had prepared a feast of local foods with such exotica as corn and rice pancakes and bhe, a dry lotus stem preparation. All very tasty and nearly knocked me out. She’d also prepared carrot cake using my mother’s recipe, and done so extremely well, so that was a rush of nostalgia for me.
Then we went to the old city to find the Jain temple, now a school and thoroughly dilapidated. The way was quite hideous, narrow old city bazaar streets with huge crowds of motorbikes that were quite happy to run over pedestrians, plus the air seemed as grubby as Lahore’s though Multan is typically less polluted. The Jain mandir itself was extremely interesting. The frescoes hadn’t been defaceed though they’d certainly suffered greatly, and some of the ceilings were exquisite. On the terrace were large frescos of soldiers that could have come from a 19th century Company School painting. The building itself is in dire need of preservation, as it looks like it might fall in at any time. There was a stunning entrance in a narrow alley way, barely visible, though perhaps there was once baoli there, bordered by a row of pilgrims’ houses and a large assembly halls inhabited by squatters who let us poke around. This was an interesting mix of local styles and something aspiring to early 20th century ideas of modernity, with European style columns etc. One room was entirely encased in some sort of fibre and I think it must have been used as a film set at some recent point. It faced what was perhaps once a baoli and would make a lovely little inner city square if it hadn’t been heaped with rotting cauliflower.
We walked for a bit through the streets. The inner city is congested and dirty and the air was like a sewer (while many of the streets were actual sewers) and I found it a bit oppressive, but there were some interesting buildings still in place, always nice to see. We went to one of the many shrines and wandered around a bit. Pleasant but not as impressive by any means as the main shrines of the city, such as Shah Rukn-e-Alam perched on a hilltop overlooking the city, though the air was grimy enough that it was invisible.
When we got back we checked the air quality and learned it was by far the worst in the world, exceeding 2000, so I’m amazed we didn’t all die like canaries in a coalmine. I daresay we shortened our lives by a few months at least.
Tomorrow, south to Uchh.