A classy piece of writing,beautifully written and details and description so artfully sketched that it makes you feel that you are present with the writer on the plat form of Lahore Railway Station.
A worthy experience it was, for me, to sit in quite a peaceful corner at Plat form no.3 on a winter’s cold eve with peanuts in my hand.
First one to attract my attention was a group of people, known as “Qulli,” all dressed in old red shirts chaffering aloud and hurrying back and forth. Their faces painted with feelings of hope and bodies weighed down. They carry with themselves the luggage of passengers and responsibility of their families whom they have left behind. One of them was having a little child, holding the corner his father’s shirt in his hand and dreams of a “heavily loaded” future in his heart.
In a the corner a vendor was selling dusted Samosas, already tasted by flies, placed behind the rack of discolored water bottles that were never replaced, on a price at least three times higher than actual price. One person…
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