By: Raazia Syed
In the bustling streets of Lahore, where the aroma of freshly baked naan mingled with the scent of jasmine from the nearby gardens, lived two inseparable friends: Ayesha and Zara (Pseudonym). They had met in college, both studying literature, and their bond had grown stronger than the mango trees lining the old streets of Anarkali Bazaar.
Ayesha came from a traditional household in Gulberg, where mornings were filled with the sound of azaan and the scent of halwa puri. Zara, on the other hand, lived in Shadman, a lively neighborhood where the streets were painted with colorful rickshaws and children playing cricket from dawn till dusk. Despite their different backgrounds, they shared a love for poetry, chai, and the laughter that echoed late into the night in the university canteen.
One summer, the friends decided to visit Hunza Valley, dreaming of seeing the towering mountains and turquoise rivers they had only read about in books. With backpacks filled with samosas and notebooks for poetry, they set off on a train journey through Punjab and into the northern landscapes of Pakistan. Zara often visits Ayesha so their parents not only allowed them to visit together but also arrange handsome amount for this unforgettable trip. The girls also joined tour operator.
During their trip, an unexpected rainstorm forced them to seek shelter in a small village. The villagers welcomed them with warmth, offering roti, lassi, and stories of the valley. Ayesha and Zara spent the day helping with chores, laughing over spilled milk and chasing goats. That night, under a sky crowded with stars, they recited poetry in Urdu, their voices mingling with the soft hum of the river nearby.
It was in those quiet moments, away from the chaos of the city, that they realized something profound: friendship in Pakistan was more than shared laughter or memories—it was a commitment, like the bonds of family. It meant standing together in storms, celebrating each other’s joys, and creating a home wherever life took you.
When they returned to Lahore, their friendship had grown even stronger. The streets of Anarkali seemed brighter, the scent of tea sweeter, and every corner reminded them of a thousand shared stories. Their friendship, like the threads of a handwoven Kashmiri shawl, was vibrant, intricate, and unbreakable.
Years later, whenever Ayesha and Zara met, they would reminisce about that rainy day in Hunza. They would laugh, cry, and promise, as they always did: that no matter where life led them, their friendship would remain a constant, stitched into the very fabric of their hearts.
Ends
Good