Lahore Lahore Hai

There is an old joke in Lahore. A hajji arrives in Mecca and is asked how he feels to be in the heart of Islam. “This is a dream come true for me,” he says, “and Mecca is more beautiful and inspiring than I ever could have imagined. But,” he adds, “Lahore is Lahore.”

It is impossible not to love Lahore. Impossible.

Were it in India, Lahore would be the cleanest, best cared for, most romantic city in the country. It would also rank among the most culturally rich. And the food is simply stunning.

Lahore is often compared with Delhi, as both cities feel as though they have one foot in this century, and one in centuries gone by. In truth, the comparison flatters Delhi. The old walled cities are quite similar in feel; but architecture from other periods, including an extremely rich collection of interesting buildings from the colonial period, are far better preserved and incorporated into the active life of Lahore than Delhi.

Most of Delhi’s grandeur and green space stems from the fact that it is the capital city of India. If governments are good at anything, they are good at architectural self aggrandizement; and politicians are rarely shy about housing themselves immodestly. But the governmental splendor of capital cities often feels hollow and soulless, and Delhi’s is no exception. Delhi’s broad avenues and generous architectural setbacks are, for the most part, reserved for the governmental and diplomatic elites. They are places for the rest of us to pass through, but not really to feel a part of. Even the one monumental space that truly belongs to the public – India Gate – is despoiled by the ceaseless blare of horns from passing vehicles and the mindless, and equally incessant flow of garbage from hands to ground.

The cricket stadiums of Delhi and Lahore – which are, of course, the heart of any city on the sub-continent – offer a perfect synecdoche. Delhi’s principle grounds for International cricket are Feroz Shah Kotla Stadium. Though it has recently been through one of several renovations, the structure is an exercise in soul-sucking concrete, with seating sections partitioned by the sort of steel caging that even modern zoos find inappropriate. Lahore’s Gaddafi Stadium, by contrast, is a lovely-proportioned low bowl of red brick, with a lacy crown of arches at its rim. The entrances are grand and spacious, lined with beds and pots of seasonal flowers. In fact, during my visit to the stadium, there were as many gardeners tending the flowers and ornamental shrubbery as there were groundsmen manicuring the wickets for an upcoming match.

Everyone asks me to compare India and Pakistan. In truth, I haven’t seen enough of Pakistan to offer fair judgment; but I am more than happy to dig beneath the Lahore – Delhi similarities that others so often assert. All I can say is: Lahore Lahore hai!

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