Dr. Anand - an unholy person born in 1932 in the holy town of Nankana Sahib, central Punjab. A lawyer father, a doctor mother. Peripatetic childhood - almost gypsy style. Many schools. Many friends, ranging from a cobbler's son (poorly shod as the proverb goes) to a judge's son. MB from Glancy (now Government) Medical College Amritsar, 1958. Comet 4 to Heathrow, 1960.
Widower. Two children and their families keep an eye on him. He lives alone in a small house with a small garden. Very fat pigeons, occasional sparrows, finches green and gold drop in to the garden, pick a seed or two and fly away.
I read today (December 2018) that the river Ravi has run dry in Lahore.
Reminded me of the times past. The 1940s.
Then, the Raavi (or Ravi) was a majestic River. We used to cross it by the road bridge when travelling by "Lorry." Yes. You read it right. In those days, in the Punjab, the term lorry was not exclusively used for motorised Goods Vehicles. What one calls a Bus now was a "lorry "then. We, the passengers, sat inside on seats, mostly. Some passengers sat on the roof top - in the company of boxes, trunks, bales of fodder, baskets (covered by a string netting) containing squawking chickens.
Inside the lorry, you sat in the front seat, next to the driver. That is, if you were an important passenger - a policeman (Pulsia, in Panjabi colloquially). Or, if you paid extra.