{"id":83131,"date":"2026-05-18T18:48:02","date_gmt":"2026-05-18T22:48:02","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/apnaorg.com\/wp\/columns\/general\/lahore-the-way-it-was\/"},"modified":"2026-05-19T12:02:37","modified_gmt":"2026-05-19T16:02:37","slug":"lahore-the-way-it-was","status":"publish","type":"columns","link":"https:\/\/apnaorg.com\/wp\/columns\/ahameed\/lahore-the-way-it-was\/","title":{"rendered":"Lahore, the way it was"},"content":{"rendered":"<table width=\"490\" border=\"5\" align=\"center\" cellpadding=\"0\" cellspacing=\"0\" id=\"AutoNumber1\" style=\"border-collapse: collapse\">\n<tr>\n<td width=\"480\">\n<table cellSpacing=\"0\" cellPadding=\"0\" width=\"100%\" border=\"0\">\n<tr>\n<td class=\"text\" width=\"75%\">Daily Times: Monday, August 14, 2006<\/td>\n<td align=\"right\" width=\"25%\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/table>\n<table cellSpacing=\"0\" cellPadding=\"5\" width=\"100%\" border=\"1\" style=\"border-collapse: collapse\">\n<tr>\n<td vAlign=\"top\" width=\"69%\">\n<p class=\"title3\"><b>Lahore Lahore Aye:<\/b> Lahore, the way it was\n\t\t  <\/p>\n<p align=\"justify\" class=\"text\">\n          <img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"\/columns\/ahameed\/20060409_a-hamid.jpg\" align=\"right\" border=\"0\" width=\"200\" height=\"204\"><br \/>\n          <i>By A Hamid<\/i><\/p>\n<p>On the lawns facing the Punjab Assembly, there used to stand a statue of Queen   Victoria under a canopy, ringed by magnificent trees. If you walked towards the   Assembly from the Plaza cinema side, so thick were the trees that you could   barely see the entire Assembly building. They were such lovely trees that I   could never tire of looking at them. For many years after the establishment of   Pakistan, the trees stood at that spot in all their splendour, but then they   were cut down, for what reason I am not sure. One day, as Munir Niazi and I on   our stroll down the Mall, came to Charing Cross, I looked towards the Assembly   building and said, &ldquo;There used to be such lovely trees there with impenetrable   foliage, but since they were axed, the beauty of this spot is gone.&rdquo; Munir   replied, &ldquo;But have you not noticed that the removal of the trees has opened up   this vista and brought in heaps of sunlight that could never reach it   before.&rdquo;<\/p>\n<p>I liked what he had said. It was true that the Punjab Assembly   garden had gained more space and it did look beautiful. There are many other   spots in Lahore whose beauty has been enhanced because of new construction or   other improvements. For example, if you went towards Simla Pahari from Abbott   Road, in front of the old radio station, to the left, there used to stand a   decaying, forlorn yellow house, dating back to British times. Next to it was an   empty plot of land, overgrown with bushes and infested with heaps of discarded   things. Someone had set up a teashop on the spot that had come to be known as   Phoons Hotel because its makeshift roof was covered with grass. A few broken   chairs and wobbly tables had been placed under the ramshackle canopy for the   customers who came there to drink tea. All that is gone.<\/p>\n<p>Today, if you   come towards Simla Pahari from Abbott Road, to your left you will find several   high-rise buildings with glass fronts, which shimmer when they catch the sun.   Those who remember that wretched old hotel and see what has replaced it have no   reason to lament the passing of that eyesore. Several years into independence,   when you went from the Wahdat Colony square towards the Muslim Town canal, you   could not help noticing a mud road that ran along the canal and was always full   of clouds of dust. There was no proper footpath on the other bank of the canal   at the time. This was the road which led to what was to become Punjab   University&rsquo;s New Campus. Where a footpath now runs, there used to be scraggly   trees and wild bushes. Today, there is a carpeted road on either side of the   canal, fringed by tall, shady eucalyptus trees. The two roads carry one-way   traffic.<\/p>\n<p>Small, colourful craft go down the canal and at night both banks   are lit with thousands of tiny bulbs. A lovely little bridge has been thrown   over the canal close to the New Campus. Two underpasses have also been   constructed so that the flow of traffic is not interrupted and there are no   snarl-ups, as there used to be. The residential colonies of Johar Town, Garden   Town and Modern Colony have spread out as far as Thokar Niaz Beg and the   Motorway. To lighten the flow of traffic, a couple of smaller roads that run   along the main artery have also been built. It is a delightful sight at night   when the lights are up.<\/p>\n<p>As for the old city, that too has changed but   mostly not for the better. Those who remember the pre-1947 Bhati Gate, Shah   Alami Gate, Texali Gate and Model Town, will not recognise these areas were they   to return to them today. New colonies and residential developments have sprung   up everywhere. While Lahore is a far more attractive city than it was before   independence, many of the old historic and cultural sites have disappeared, as   if they never existed. They should not have been allowed to vanish because they   bore the history of the city itself. <\/p>\n<p>I remember the Lahore of the old   days distinctly and long for its return. If you walked from the Tollinton Market   towards Regal Cinema, just past Commercial Building, on the inside road, there   used to stand the Sunlight Building, which was home to various companies and   stores, including the Krishna Book House. If I remember, this name was later   changed to Minerva Book Centre. There were also a couple of restaurants that the   building played host to. The India Coffee House and the Cheney&rsquo;s Lunch Home   stood side by side. After independence, I saw more than once Saadat Hasan Manto   at the Cheney&rsquo;s Lunch Home, as well as the sweet-voiced and handsome Amanat Ali   Khan of the Patiala Gharana. The Coffee House was frequented by journalists,   lawyers, teachers and writers. The regulars included Abdullah Butt, Bari Alig,   Abdullah Malik, Prof Alauddin Kalim, Riaz Qadir, Manzoor Qadir, Ijaz Hussain   Batalvi, the painters Shakir Ali, Ali Imam, Ahmed Pervaiz and Anwar Jalal   Shamza. <\/p>\n<p>Zulfikar Ali Bhutto as prime minister of Pakistan once expressed   a desire to drop in at the Coffee House. He was as good as his word and did drop   in one day and stayed for quite some time. He also once walked into Lord&rsquo;s   restaurant on the Mall, where Sardar Muhammad Sadiq was king. He sat down with   the regulars and assured them that he was still &ldquo;one of the boys&rdquo;. But as time   passed, these old hangouts of Lahore&rsquo;s intellectuals began to make way for   trendier, new-fangled places. And one day we saw a big, ugly lock on the   steel-grill doors of the Coffee House. It was a turning point in Lahore&rsquo;s   intellectual and artistic history. It is said that both the Coffee House and the   Pak Tea House, which was across the road, belonged to two Sikh brothers. The two   places used to be known before partition as the India Coffee House and the India   Tea House. The two brothers replicated their two Lahore restaurants in Delhi   where they were forced to migrate as the 1947 bloodbath took hold of   Punjab.<\/p>\n<p>Sirajuddin, who turned India Tea House into Pak Tea House (now   dead like its owner and only a memory), once told me &ndash; or was it his son who did   &ndash; that one day, he noticed a Sikh standing across the road, just staring. When   he asked the stranger to come in, he told him that he had come from India and   this place and the Coffee House across the road used to belong to him and his   brother. The Coffee House has long been gone and in its place there now stands a   bank. Nila Gumbad, where these restaurants and intellectual hangouts were once   located, is now a bustling auto parts and car tyre market. Although there is no   shortage of hotels and restaurants in Lahore today, there is not a single place   that could claim to be a true successor to any of those wonderful   establishments.<\/p>\n<p><em>A Hamid, the distinguished Urdu novelist and short   story writer, writes a column every week based on his memories of old Lahore.   Translated from the Urdu by Khalid Hasan<\/em><\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/table>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/table>\n<p align=\"center\"><b><span><br \/>\n<a href=\"http:\/\/www.apnaorg.com\">BACK TO APNA WEB PAGE<\/a><\/span><\/b><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Daily Times: Monday, August 14, 2006 &nbsp; Lahore Lahore Aye: Lahore, the way it was By A Hamid On the lawns facing the Punjab Assembly, there used to stand a statue of Queen Victoria under a canopy, ringed by magnificent trees. If you walked towards the Assembly from the Plaza cinema side, so thick were [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"featured_media":0,"template":"","columnist":[4078],"class_list":["post-83131","columns","type-columns","status-publish","hentry","columnist-ahameed"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/apnaorg.com\/wp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/columns\/83131","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/apnaorg.com\/wp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/columns"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/apnaorg.com\/wp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/columns"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/apnaorg.com\/wp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=83131"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"columnist","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/apnaorg.com\/wp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/columnist?post=83131"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}