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As I entered the bookshop at nearly 4:20 pm, I felt relaxed as no time constraints were hanging over my head. I had left LUMS after having lunch in an easygoing manner, not tied to any tight schedule or deadline (a rare feeling throughout the third semester).

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Here was the spot where I sensed an echo of voices from the staircase, barred only by a glass wall. Mothers' voices were booming as they escorted their young children down to the first floor, where they had to pay for their purchases from the upper floor. There was a repetition of instruction, with increasing intensity, "We need to go down," "We are going down," and "Give it to me." This occurred about three times with different sets of mothers and children, making me feel a sense of déjà vu. In a nutshell, I felt annoyed as I am generally sensitive to loud noises, like stomping and yelling.

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i) We had to turn our phones to airplane mode, and photography was not allowed
ii) Walking in silence was encouraged
iii) Had to follow the path taken by the instructor
iv) Short debrief with the whole class at the end of the walk
v) Reflection on the poem handed by the instructor & TA

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The blab of the pave, tires of carts, sluff of boot-soles, talk of the promenaders,
The heavy omnibus, the driver with his interrogating thumb, the clank of the shod horses on the granite floor,
The snow-sleighs, clinking, shouted jokes, pelts of snow-balls,
The hurrahs for popular favourites, the fury of rous'd mobs...

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Hafiz Hassan Siddique
Naimal Sohail
Salma Idrees

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Hafiz Hassan Siddique
Naimal Sohail
Palwasha Khanum
Salma Idrees

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We all stepped into the premises with an Open Inventory approach. However, as we walked ahead and wandered around, each of us could identify specific elements that had piqued our interest. Hence, we meandered into the technique of Inventoried Looking or Categorized Looking. So, we can say that our presentation has been divided into four distinct themes.

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This was the first time I had visited Androon in a group this large. So, it was a great new experience.

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Inspired by Umberto Eco's The Mysterious Flame of Queen Loana, I decided to seize the opportunity of revisiting my old school, LGS 55 Main, where I studied from Grade 2 to Grade 11 before leaving for the UAE.

A musical night was taking place as part of the commencement ceremony of the Model United Nations session hosted by LGS. For this particular segment, school alumni were welcome to join. My childhood best friend had rung me up to accompany her, and I gladly obliged. She had had her eyes out for such opportunities, as her cousin was currently studying there. On the other hand, I had not accessed the school for the past eight years.

In extension to the VTR we had done in class, I focused on objects, spaces, and time whilst on our visit.

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EDU 626 - Connect, Extend, Challenge - Sept 26 2

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My friend and I had reached the school one after the other on separate conveyances but had planned to carpool to DHA on the way back.

Since, time management is not my strong suit, coupled with the unprecedented traffic enroute, I reached 20 minutes later than my friend, Hamna. We went back and forth on the phone as she sat at the campus, waiting.

Crossing the Road

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In hindsight, I compared Bachelard's The Poetics of Space to the stanza handed out after our first campus walk. In the poem, there is a vivid sense of sound and movement. However, in the reading, the opposite is achieved; there is the description of 'absolute silence,' which makes it fascinating to consider how writers' words can depict both sound and silence.

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In hindsight, I had never realized that our school sported an 'Alumni Board,' as Hamna calls it. Her persistence to find where it was nestled inside the campus compelled me to join in the pursuit. We looked at all the suspected spaces, such as going over all the display boards equally distanced from one another on the ground floor, Senior side corridor. We discovered that all of them were being utilized for the same purpose, as during our time, to publicize the student societies. It is interesting how a single object, like the Literary Society's board, could spark a barrage of recollections and reignite the sense of value that it had once held for me. I wonder whether the eternally same placement of the dear object heightens sentimental value. Would there have been a difference in attachment had it been moved places?

It was ironic that we found the board where we had least expected it, and by that time, we had given up the hunt. On impulse, I asked my friend to go to one of my favorite spots for old times' sake - next to it, nailed to the wall, was our prize.

One of the people I could immediately spot (besides the principal) on the honorary board was the Head Girl of my time, and then my friend added that most of them were those who had held positions at LGS over the years. It made me think about how one must have been in any position of power to be paid remembrance. I could relive the kind of idealization we had felt toward these people as they seemed extraordinary to the rest of us ordinary students.

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This photograph is a testament to the fact that it's often the simplest of things that give us the most pleasure. This semi-circled seating fixture is one of the pair that were independently situated at the second and third landings of the flights of stairs on the right side of the senior school. It was a personal, as well as a collective hangout space and a lazing rest stop as I would ascend the steps to the top-most floor where my classes had been located for consecutive years.

Memories:
(i) Lazing around this area, trying to waste up a few minutes of my least favorite lectures after the break times would come to a close
(ii) Thinking this space was a hobbit hole where I could enjoy moments of silence, not being seen by anyone.
(iii)At other free times, sitting to reflect, observing all the commotion of schoolfellows going up and down (appears as if I had been engaged with slow looking since long ago).

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The first thing that hit as I stood at the farthest end to capture this photo, I realized how small this space now seemed, something that had never crossed my mind as a student. This was a place we had called the 'backyard stage' because of the elevation. It was at a perfect distance from the security guard clad with a loudspeaker, calling out our names at home time, as our family members or drivers came to pick us up.

I scratched my head at the thought of us sitting here in groups of four or more, a place that now seems so small in scale. Hamna quipped at my reflection: "maybe, it's because we have now become attuned to the vastness of our university campuses."

Parting thought: It's amazing how time changes our perceptions of the scale of a landscape, and perhaps our place in it changes too. A place that seemed so large in childhood seems all the smaller as we grow up.

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I was nominated as our group's monitor and time keeper.

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Destination: Family Park, Opp. Faculty Apartments

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Destination: Family Park, Opp. Faculty Apartments

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(i) One of our group members felt thirsty and stopped to get us all drinks. As we sat at a table outside, I realized that the fourth chair had been occupied by a cat, and I couldn't help but get easily distracted in a bout for the perfect photo. The cat, unlike a human, was least bothered by this invasion of privacy. In fact, it chose to ignore my intrusion and curled itself to sleep.

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I couldn't help but notice how the laborer(s) were walking barefooted on the road. My first associative thought with a roadside is how hot it can get in the summer months, peaking at noon. As a litmus test, I got to one side, took off my shoe, and let my toes caress the road. It was barely warm at that point. Yet, one could imagine how scorching hot it would become as the clock ticked to noon and beyond. On a different note, this instance took me back to the UAE, where some outdoor parking spaces were so desert-like that the sand would trickle into our shoes and create a tingling sensation because of the heat.

Parting thought: It is fascinating how a single sensory experience can trigger many emotions and memories.

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(i) I noticed that Hafiz was deep in thought and would hurriedly jot down his points as soon as my timer went off each time. It reminded me of the students in an exam hall who would be busy concocting answers and unleashing their writing speed at the last minute as the invigilator announced, "Time's up!" Also, I could relate as someone who also writes in their spare time that it is easier to get lost in observation, and one cannot put pen to paper promptly.
Salma appeared more focused on the task at hand, and I noticed how she would continue writing while looking into the distance, yet her words were in line.

(ii) I could compare both sets of notes and identify their distinctness. Hafiz's were more specific as he named the exact birds he could hear chirping in the distance. Salma also listed the sounds, but in an abstract, generalized description.

(iii) I also realized the novelty factor for someone observing a place for the first time, as opposed to the one who visits routinely. In our case, Hafiz pointed out something that had gone unnoticed by Salma for a long time, like the distance between two shady trees in the park.

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This is when the discussion in class about looking through the camera's eye actualized in my mind. We had earlier spoken on how perception differs from life to recording. With the sun blaring in my eyes, I could not catch much of the mosque's intricacies, and I thought that my photography would go in vain. However, as I scrolled through my gallery later, I realized how the photographs turned out better than expected, and (though not perfect) I could see clearer in such shots than in real life. I cannot wait to explore further in the upcoming projects.

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I could not photograph my trip(s) to respect everyone's privacy. Aim: I tried to identify various symbols in the shop, decode what they represent, and interpret the meaning behind people's gestures at the Tailor's and its surrounding bazaar.

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Gateway to Wazir Khan Masjid (1902) by Mackenzie

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As highlighted in Bachelard's The Poetics of Space, each place represents the people who inhabited it, ripe with rich history and culture. I have realized how art and architecture can bring a place to life. This painting of Masjid Wazir Khan, shared by Waleed in the class group, helps reconstruct an image of history and how people lived.

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I did not expect to find something so striking near the entrance (the disparity in fares), which turned into a eureka moment. An idea that came to mind was to indulge in a Visible Thinking Routine called "Step In - Step Out - Step Back" throughout this trip.

Choose: Identify a person or agent in the situation you are examining.
-A foreigner

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I cannot help but use the blurriness of this photo to symbolize how time becomes a blur as it passes.

One of my favorite points raised by Eco in the reading was how to distinguish the past from "becoming" the present by understanding how it affects our emotional state. It is profound that I could re-envision myself as a student rather than an alien. I pointed out to my friend that it felt as if we had been transported back in time and, in my core, it felt the same as the times I would dress up and come to such events in my student life, enjoy myself, and be back to mundane school-life the coming Monday, although this time, there was no going back.

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It is insightful to think how one cannot let go of their personal interests and preferences (or biases) in any context they enter because that's what makes them who they are.

Pakistan's traditional patterned tiling has always appealed to me, so I could not help but photograph the chipped floor with its engraved stars. It would make sense for such an aesthetic to dominate a child-friendly space. I wondered who the earlier inhabitants could be. Interestingly, there was a presence of children and youth nearby in the shape of the walled city government schools.

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Given what you see and know at this time, what do you think this person might feel, believe, know, or experience?

Feelings: Upon arrival at the ticketing counter, I was overcome with disconcert. Although, I would doubt it being an intentional slight or discriminatory display.

Thoughts: I would assume that this sight depicts an overall lack of subtlety in the society it reflects.

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This outing aimed to explore the eight floors of an apartment building in Askari XI, where I live, and observe the aesthetics behind shared spaces, such as the corridors and the personalization of entryways to individual apartments. I also tried to record and decipher any trends I could see, though the sample was just one building for now, and I tried to make out how spaces in public sight can reflect the individuals in their private capacities and family dynamics.

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Expectations: I would expect to see what is reminiscent of the intricacy of Mughal (Persian-inspired) architecture. This pillar is representative of the seamlessly carved motifs of the time and master craftsmanship with an attention to minute detail.

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My expectation would be founded on a few Google searches and any other form of interaction with Mughal art and architecture sourced from Wikipedia, Pinterest, and other websites. The most prominent depictions of the Mughal era pop up in the form of miniature paintings, which are emblems of intricate detailing.

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I would consider the sight of scaffolding a sign of conservation and restoration. So, I would breathe a sigh of relief that efforts are taking place to maintain the beauty of such historical sites, which attract both local and international tourists.

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Seeing such an architectural feat in person would make me discern and reflect on the significance of traditional art and how we could aspire for replication when it comes to the restoration processes of such sites. In other situations, one would challenge the orthodoxy in artistic methods/procedures and call for creativity and experimentation.

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As a foreigner to this country, I would probably be a proponent of the middle ground. The photo above seems textbook and lacking in intricacy despite being freshly installed, whilst this one is far more intriguing in its rustic state, despite withering off with time. I believe that one must preserve the essence of a place while its restoration, or else its magic will fade.

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Delhi Gate is more polished and touristy compared to Bhaati gate, which is laced with everyday-life antics. A notable observation was that most of us Lahore-based members on this trip had more often visited Delhi Gate and not Bhati Gate, despite the proximity between the two.

Smells:
The punch of saunf (fennel) was pleasing to my palette and neutralized any other smells in the area.

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My mind wandered to Snuffing Out the Moon, in which we could identify objects (like ice cream) used as symbols to convey meaning. Situated adjacent to the bazaar is a police station, which we passed by. As I meandered past the khokhas, I spotted a policeman in uniform seated and smoking a hookah. With this object in the periphery, the policeman came across in a more humanized portrait as he joked with the boy server who strode around completing orders.

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Signboards such as these, sprinkled throughout most historical sites of Lahore, give the allusion of each space being wholly taken care of, which may not be the case as we traversed to different areas of the park. The most disappointingly unkempt was the Tomb of Asif Khan.

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By panning into the footer of this blaring red signboard, I identified the following:
(i) Punjab Tourism for Economic Growth
(ii) World Bank Group

Seeing this would have further cemented my views on the economic situation of Pakistan. It is interesting that every country, whether well-developed or not, encourages tourism for economic gains. However, it is never branded that way in your face. It appears as though these prominent markers (signboards) were installed under the patronage of the World Bank, while other countries only peg the sites marked under UNESCO's World Heritage Sites. This makes me wonder whether the World Bank was a means for funding the conservation of these sites.

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Once inside the park and near the mosque, I came across this signboard, which was heavily rusted. I couldn't help but contrast this to the one above and make a case for the extremities I had made earlier.

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The second time we went to collect our stitched clothes, we entered upon the Master's Sahab's  "ugghhh..." moment. My mother inquired about the matter as he cut a piece of shiny fabric, shrugging his shoulders, eyes glued to his WhatsApp. We had hardly ever seen him this perplexed.

It was slightly amusing to see his plight. Here was a long-bearded man with a topi on his head, designing children's Halloween costumes on demand for one of his customer-bajis.

As my mother inquired, I tried to peer at the WhatsApp images from the corner of my eye. It was a cloak draped on Egyptian royalty. I, too, was taken aback by this ' upcoming trend' in Pakistan. Later, I discovered it was a costume that a client had requested him to stitch for her daughter, who would dress up and participate in a Halloween-themed party at school. The other daughter sought a witch's cloak, and the tailor joked that she had claimed to put on fake vampire teeth and become a churail for school. He jibed that all this was a "tamasha" that aaj kal ke schools had started instead of focusing on parhai.

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The tiled entryway adjacent to the half-painted splash of brick wall makes it evident that the owner of this apartment resides here, not a tenant. The latter would not have the authority to unapologetically make such drastic changes to a space, even if it served the purpose of beautification.

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Taking a hint from their neighbors, these people created aesthetic appeal by maximizing the use of their wall space, albeit not taking any drastic measures. So, perhaps these inhabitants are tenants, as those who live on rent tend to stick to non-permanent, decorative methods that can easily be undone.

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This floor's corridor was apparently the barest of the seven I had visited. At first glance to the right of the elevator, I could sense minimal aesthetics, which made me question whether at least one of the two apartments on this side was currently vacant.

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Sentimentally, I decided to retrace some of my childhood favorites. In this activity, I watched a cartoon clip that I had not watched in years but had thoroughly enjoyed as a kid.

On a lighter note, I couldn't help but giggle at the voice animation of the main character, who had once appeared older to me, but now seemed a bit childish. The theme song, though, was as catchy as ever.

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Kim Possible - Theme Song | Disney+ Throwbacks | Disney+

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Quoting Calvino's Invisible Cities, I reflected on my own experience of Androon Lahore: I can sense my mind trying to recreate a scene of that place in the past. Perhaps that is my way of feeling transported back in time. So, I find silence and a kind of solitude the best ways of experiencing such places. Although, I do not mind tour guides because they provide valuable information. However, I personally find it highly contrived to express emotion or respond when they try to engage in conversation. I often break my silence on such visits so that I don't come across as rude or a sore thumb for those who accompany me, and they find it more fulfilling when they articulate their feelings or verbalize what they find intriguing. And I suspect they would appreciate it if I joined in their conversation, although that's not what I prefer.

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In the background was a not-so-big television mounted on the wall with surprisingly high-definition visuals. My mother and the tailor (a man with a wry sense of humor) commented on the game. The former questioned why such an anxiety-ridden, lost match had been tuned into, and the latter replied, "Main ne pareshaan hona chor diya hai."

In my opinion, this was metaphoric of his overall outlook on life, not just the match.

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What else would you like or need to learn to understand this person’s perspective better?

I would like to know whether this person has visited this or a similar site before.

I need to know how learned they are in the Mughal arts and architecture or the cultural history of the subcontinent.

Moreover, I would like to know the main driver behind this visit, academic, commercial (blogging/vlogging/photography, etc.), or recreational.

How has their visit to Pakistan shaped their perception of the country and its people?

How would they describe this visit once they return to their home country?

Are they an experienced traveler?

To what extent had they been influenced by the locals on their visit?

How would they compare this experience to other historical sites they have visited internationally or in their home country?

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Given your exploration of this perspective so far, what do you notice about your own perspective and what it takes to take somebody else’s?

I wonder how much of the perspective-taking of a foreign individual became an outlet for venting out my inner frustrations with the dire state some of our historical sites have succumbed to, like the Tomb of Asif Khan.

In order to adopt another's perspective, one must be open to critiquing their own biases and acknowledge their blind spots.

I was also weary of my perspective-taking becoming hostage to the stereotypical views about foreign visitors.

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A few steps ahead in my detective shoes, I found the following clues (in green) to substantiate my doubts.

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Lack of attention to cleanliness

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There is talk of Askari being transitional accommodation in between people moving houses. Interestingly, all these plants picketing the apartment to the right are not theirs - Rather, these are potted plants brought in by their neighbors in the opposite apartment lining their entire side of the corridor. I think this overcrowding is due to these residents having moved into an apartment from a house. I wonder if they are in the process of re-moving or have settled here as a nuclear family.

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As I was on the fifth floor or so, I saw the janitor exit the elevator and begin his sweeping action toward the west of where I was standing. I casually ascended the stairs rather than by elevator, giving the impression that I was going up to 'my floor' through contrived exercise. Later, as I left the sixth floor upward, I saw the janitor had also made his way there. So, I had to ignore him completely, not to raise any suspicion, and I boarded another flight of stairs.

For this reason, I could not document the seventh floor, although it had seemed bare in fleeting glances. However, I realized that he had been engrossed in the task at hand and would not have doubted my intentions of lingering in the corridors, yet it was an alarm that had gone off in my head that I needed to become extra cautious.

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When we entered the Tailor's shop on our first visit, the sight of a haphazard cue raised alarm bells for a long wait. Two sisters, one in her teens (seemingly, an O or A Level student) and the other in her pre-teens, had accompanied their mother to get seasonal clothes stitched. Ahead of us at the entrance was the family's driver dropping off the goods, Lays chips and KitKat, two a piece. It's funny how witnessing this scene made me paint a mental image of the girls. I couldn't help but consider how providing snacks was a coercive act by the mother to overcome her daughters' impatience and deter any incoming complaints of having to wait as long as they had to.

In sync with my predictions about the overt parenting style, I was slightly amused to hear the younger girl say, "Mujhe aisa na kaha karein. . . mujhe *acha* mumble, mumble." I have witnessed many 'new' parents relay how their children are co-partners in setting the tone of how they should be talked to and addressed in public, and this discourse seemed to testify to such a claim.

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This visit was inspired by Horowitz's On Looking Eleven Walks with Expert Eyes. I took a walk, starting from Delhi Gate, through the bazaar, across Gali Surjan Singh to Masjid Wazir Khan, while following my friend, Aleezah, a fresh graduate from NCA who is currently completing her internship at the masjid. This internship looks into the restoration of the Calligrapher's Bazaar, which is perpendicular to the mosque's entryway.

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An observation of the people

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I did not take any photographs inside the café as it was not allowed according to the sign taped to the counter, which read "Photography not allowed inside." I am not oblivious to the fact that some visitors did not comply with this rule, but I did not want to be one of them.

Additionally, I have broken down my open-inventoried notes into two parts: Description and Reflection. The former has been listed in the color purple and the latter in blue.

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Description: I observed a relatively young couple who had two kids not far apart from one another. While they had placed their order and were waiting for their food, the father had taken out a small-sized ball to keep the children occupied. Both, the son and daughter, got up and threw the orange ball around, yet it was interesting to see how the father praised them for “catching” the ball while the ball mostly landed on the floor, not their hands. I also noted the parents’ discourse with both their children. The former addressed the latter, "ye karlein" rather than "ye karo/karlo’" which (is more commonly used for younger addresses in informal settings.)

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Reflection: Not long into observing this couple and the dynamic they shared with their children, I could classify this as ‘Conscious Parenting.’ I first came across this concept on a Japanese mother’s YouTube channel; she would ask her two-year-old daughter to give her advice on what to wear – the mother would hold out two dresses and ask her daughter to point to the one she liked; thus, wearing what her daughter had picked out for her. She would sum it up as “treating her daughter as an equal.” Even in the West, parents talk about their infants’ personalities and how each is their own individual from (as soon as) the age of two. In addition, I had loosely heard about the book titled The Conscious Parent: Transforming Ourselves by Shefali Tsabary. Some key takeaways of such parenting include respectfully speaking to children, treating them as individuals, managing your expectations, teaching children by example, etc. It was insightful to observe this play out in a Pakistani setting.

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Crow's Caw

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The schoolboys who had seemingly bunked classes were listening to all kinds of music, a couple with earphones on, so the songs were indiscernible. On the other hand, one of the boys, lounging in the park, was listening to an English song on speaker, yet I could not deduce which one. More than a couple of them were listening to Punjabi songs, perhaps from the era of Madam Noor Jehan.

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A vile smell had risen from the standing water at the backside of the vantage point. It reminded me of the odor that often plagues LUMS because of the presence of the naala. I have noticed that that smell varies over the day, and there are times when it is the worse off (different factors must be at play). I wonder if the same holds true for the waters of Shalimar.

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Red - The umbrella carts of eatables seemed to pop out in a "Wall's" shade of red. The bricks were a pale red, while the stones used in constructing the building were a deeper maroon and powdery to the touch. Even a banner hung at the entryway of the park's compound was of a beaming red color, marked with white text. Doubling the dark green hem were lines of deep maroon (almost Vandyke Brown) that outlined the walls and arches.

Green - Not only was the grass (mostly) a pale green, but the waters also reflected a shade of grayish green. The rounded bushes were in deeper greens, while other shrubs were light mint in color with grayish linings. The line hems bordering the various walls and arches were dark green.

Pink - The arched entryway toward the park appears to have a pinkish hue in the photographs. Some flowers were of a beautiful coral pink color.

Brown - The entry door seemed to have kept its raw wood color intact, while the doors perched up on the walls seemed to have been given a more recent coat of "Vandyke Brown," as described by Marie's acrylic colors (the ones that I had used for my artwork).

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Fallen leaves crunched underneath our shoes. They were dry, most with a cracked and brittle surface.
The texture of the walls was aged and patchy, uneven to the touch. There were several shades of color on them and peeling plaster.
After touching the red-bricked boundary walls of the park, my hands felt powdery. The bricks themselves were cool to the touch despite the sunshine. Certain spots in the wall were hollow due to a few missing bricks.
The slopes were uneven and bumpy, and one needs to be careful where they put their foot, especially while wearing thin-soled or open-toed shoes.

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If I stood directly in the middle of this elevated vantage point, I would not know what it would feel like to look directly downward. It was (only) when I drew closer to either edge that I realized how high it was. Interestingly, a first-time visitor might fall under the illusion that this is a layered landscape and that if I walk to the edge, I'll be able to step on a lower plain and might be able to go down seamlessly. However, there is a gaping distance between this point and the garden on the lower level. Stairs are either nonexistent or at the farthest extreme. There are, however, two slopes, one that comes closest to the person standing at this point, meeting him midway, while the other slope is at the extreme left. The slopes are not constructed of uniform brick, so it feels bumpy and uneven under one's shoe. They are broad in width and might have been made for horses to trod on.

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This was a doorway that would have apparently led to the upper level of the building that we called the "watchtower." As we shared our findings with Dr. Razia, we learned that the stairways to the roof had previously been open for visitors, who could then visit the top-tiered spots such as the empress's chambers (as mentioned on one of the signposts that we had noticed on our way).

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As we moved beyond this point, farther from the main entrance, we started to see the breadth of the park.

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In my opinion, this spot embodies an eye-catching island that is a precursor to the rest of the widespread gardens.

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Shards of glass were scattered throughout the grass and concrete pathways of the park, which reflected in the carelessness of people in disposing of glass bottles, likely soft drinks. I collected one as a specimen for my Peripatetic Box.

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There were many groups of schoolboys in their various school uniforms. Most of them settled in the vantage point I have photographed. They lounged around, half sitting, half lying down, listening to music.

A pair of schoolboys piqued my interest because one had his head in the other's lap as he lay across the bench, legs handing in midair, while his friend sat, looking on. This sight portrayed their close bonding with one another. They were not necessarily talking to one another but were listening to songs out loud.

Many couples sat together or picnicked. Some were on the low-lying benches under the shades of old, large trees. Others had sheets spread out and sat with crossed legs in relatively quiet spots with taller grass.

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The mixed-flavored ice cream cone seems a constant in many people's childhoods in Pakistan. As we passed by, Hadiya and I talked about how we both had memories of savoring this treat on the hot summer days, particularly in Liberty Market, where we would rarely miss an opportunity to eat this cone from Paradise hotel.

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During my excursion in the unkempt patches of grass, I found wrappers of various eatables sprinkled around, such as:

i) Nimko

ii) Tulsi

ii) Yums

iii) Gala biscuit

iv) Cocomo

v) Kurleez chips

Other items included:

i) A sock

ii) One shoe sole

iii) Torn cover of "Jubilee" notebook, exactly the same as one I had in hand

iv) Countless cigarette butts

*These are not exhaustive lists.

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Like children making out shapes in the clouds, I looked down at where I was standing to make out a shoe imprint in the middle of the textured step. Though this may not be an accurate deduction, it reminded me of an imaginative activity we might have all done in our childhoods.

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The found objects yield insight into the park's visitors. Snack wrappers do not only reflect the presence of school children and teenagers. But also families who go to parks for recreation. Interestingly, I have observed many groups of all men or all women who also enjoy snacks alongside the company of same-aged comrades. In fact, when women or men go out without their families seem in high spirits/joy and indulge in snacking on what they previously enjoyed in their younger years. So, in my opinion, we cannot tag an item with a particular age group.

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It seemed as if many crows had shed their feathers across the park. This is not my area of expertise, but I once read that crows go through a "molting" process of shedding and regrowing feathers. Interestingly, this occurs when new, warmer feathers necessitate seeing crows through winter, and we visited in November, drawing closer to the chillier winters.

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Les Roberts, in the book Personal Mapping, makes an important statement about how the city "has (also) provided a site for pedagogical activity" (p. 263). Through the Slow Looking course, I have realized how walking around sites in Lahore provides paramount opportunities for learning and perhaps challenging personal biases towards some segments of society or unfamiliar territories. This excursion to Shalimar Garden reiterated how I had not previously delved deeper into the rich history of Lahore as I can now.

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A walk across campus helped me make connections with many of the reading materials we were assigned on Perusall over the semester.

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Description: A trio of three male friends sat parallel to the young couple and their children. These three appeared to be university friends who shared many inside jokes that I (as an observer) could not make sense of from afar. Their interaction with the children reinstated the assumption that they might not be married yet or have too much experience dealing with kids. The little girl swung her arm, which resulted in a lopsided throw under the table of these friends, albeit by mistake. They sat in a triangular formation; the boy seated at the right leaned forward to pick up the ball and returned it with a smile the first time around. The little girl hesitated at first but was prompted by her father to “take the ball from uncle.” The father waved at the boy to thank him.

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Reflection: Soon after the first instance, the girl purposefully threw the ball in the same direction; the other two boys laughed as if teasing their friend, who now slumped into his chair, signaling his awkwardness yet forcing a pleasant smile for the girl while knowing that she would repeat her mischief. He looked as if about to engage with her but could not find the right words to converse with a child her age, looking helpless and losing patience.

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The father understood what was going on and said to his daughter, “acha ye game bana li hai apne.” He chose to remain calm while his wife suggested firmly taking the ball away. Alternatively, the man decided not to feed any attention to his daughter as that was what she sought. After a minute of contemplation, the father redirected his children to a quiet corner of the café and suggested a ‘new game,’ which was to lightly bounce the ball up in the air and try to catch it as it came down.

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Description: I noticed a mother (probably) in her thirties, who got up only for a fleeting moment once the room had been re-lit by the generator. She was dressed in formal wear with high-heeled shoes and, despite the festive attire, seemed to be in a grumpy mood.

She came and stared, targeting her son, who only seemed to freeze for a minute or so out of fear of his mother’s anger. However, his fear was soon eclipsed by the mutual excitement of other children, on whom that stare yielded no effect, so he, too, began to chase after them. Already given up hope, the mother returned to her seat, mumbling under her breath.

Earlier, when the lights had gone out, these same kids had run around the whole café and indulged in a game of hide and seek, made more challenging (or enjoyable) by the sudden dark. The generator took a bit longer to kickstart, so the waiter took on the moral duty of ushering these children back to their seats. He politely asked them to sit and avoid getting hurt while running in the dim lighting. Even after repeating this twice in a concerned tone, the children didn’t pay heed, and one even cackled.

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Reflection: While observing these children, I reflected on a few points. Firstly, the openness that children have while mixing with one other. They all seemed unified within their game of hide and seek. I could hardly distinguish who was related to whom. At first, I assumed that all of them were from the same family; however, that was later disproved when they dispersed to their respective seats and regrouped with their own families. I began to reflect on how this might dissipate as we grow older.

Secondly, Fear is not an effective agent to condone positive behavior in children, though it might have a small-term effect and allude to the parent’s control. However, it might not have any long-term benefits when it comes to successful parenting. While sitting there, I recalled my aunt, who prides herself in maintaining authority over her children by punishing them – she would make them stand in the corner of the room for long periods of time until they eventually apologized and accepted their mistake. However, each time their mother was not around, they would do things they were not supposed to out of rebellion, and she would hardly ever find out.

Thirdly, the child’s laughter at the waiter’s directives might not have been out of mockery but was rather symbolic of how reverse psychology might have come into effect and highlighted the need to identify how children think and deal with them accordingly.

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Description: By the time I had spent one and a half hours at the café and was considering getting up to leave, I witnessed a trail of young children walking in unison with a woman behind them, smartphone in hand, recording their entry into the café. I could tell that they all were related but perhaps not siblings. I ducked my head to avoid the camera’s eye and was surprised that she did not double-check with everyone if they felt comfortable with the recording.

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Reflection: Seemingly, this was a home video, but it seemed scripted rather than natural – I could tell by the question and answer between the mother-daughter. The former asked, “what will you eat?” and the latter gave a slight pause, eyes flickering across her mother’s face (indicating that the child was trying to recall something rather than being spontaneous.) The woman kept recording as they walked to one of the tables facing the window. All the servers had turned a blind eye toward the video recording, while many of the seated customers turned in the other direction or chose to ignore the party as they inched past. It made me think about how social media has restricted people from living in the present.

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It was a puzzling thought: why have I never been here before, despite coming to visit Minar-e-Pakistan? Two uniformed guards were stationed at the entrance, whose demeanor reminded me of their counterparts at Mazar-e-Quaid. Despite its size, the mausoleum did not lack splendor, as I learned that red sandstones had been brought from Rajasthan for its construction.

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We started our walk together from Delhi Gate and its adjacent bazaar, which we strolled through at a leisurely pace, stopping upon a whim to look over what was on display. Wedding accessories and ornaments caught my attention as they were intricately designed with embroidered nets, kiran dupattas, and gotay ka kaam. I was surprised to see that there were many options in neutral colors, contrary to people's assumptions that only bright or over-the-top accessories/decorations/garments are in demand.

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We had to wait back as a few people were posing for photographs with the guards on duty. As we burrowed our way inside, a teenage boy approached the guards, asking their permission to capture a photo with them. The request was made sheepishly, and its reply was affirmative but delivered with a neutral facial expression.

My Thoughts: If I were in the guard's place, I might have felt awkward with the kind of attention people paid toward me. Ironically enough, I would have to keep a straight face no matter the crowd in my surroundings, as I would have to behave responsibly on duty. On the contrary, such a distraction might have been welcome in an otherwise isolating and vigilant job.

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As I glanced over this section, I was transported back to my O Level days when I had studied World Affairs, and there was much discussion on Marx and The Communist Manifesto. To this day, I feel a surge in energy when I come across materials from yesteryears that helped me develop my analytical skills. This feeling also tied into the theme of the past "becoming" the present, as hinted by Umberto Eco.

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Throughout my visit, I did not see anyone sitting on the floor cushions to read, except for a boy who was waiting for his sister to tire from inspecting all the books from her favorite section. This observation contrasts the signature style of visitors at the Readings branch in Gulberg. I have been to the DHA branch multiple times and have not seen many people utilizing these spaces. The staff members were making use of this space by piling books in towers that still needed to be sorted onto their designated shelves because they, too, must have known that it would not bother any customers who would have otherwise sat there.

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Braiding Sweetgrass by Robin Wall Kimmerer

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I panned into this book title after the first aerial view as I recalled sharing a quote from the author of Braiding Sweetgrass for a GSP social media post. Although this might not have been something I would pick up to read in-depth, I could not shake off my association with it.

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This book caught my eye because of the title I read from its spine and then the cover itself, and I decided to peek inside. Another aspect to note was the price tag at the back, as one could tell that it was an imported find.

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The contents of this book left me amused, as I could not tell whether the book took itself seriously or not; maybe, the context made it slightly comical in my eyes but not for the intended home (foreign to us) audience targeted by the author. Proponents of essential oils might intake this knowledge purposefully. I couldn't help but remember Allende's Aphrodite which captured people's experiences and associations with the sense of smell beautifully, and I remember commenting on the people's conviction for aromatherapy.

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I found and bought Dr. Osama Siddique's Snuffing Out the Moon.