At the red-bricked house

It rained in Lahore the other night. They say rains at this time of the year are terrible for the wheat crop. For us self-satisfied urbanites, rain is beautiful and a relief from growing heat. The man made pollution disappears for a while and spring flowers are back in their full glory.

But the rain was not that pleasant this time. The lingering feeling of doom in the air was too much. Heavy. All present were even depressed and even concluded that now the country was all set to fail. How chilling to hear the words about a place that one identifies with.

But hope rekindled yesterday after attending a big peace rally, undaunted by threats and fear. Quite liberating.

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