You guys are on a roll … reminding us of time long gone with great memories. For me the last 3 in a row have brought back brilliant memories of my childhood, Nihari, F B Area, and now the Tonga.
I grew up in Khairpur, and the tonga was a common form of school transportation. I vaguely remember getting helped on board the tonga by my older sister’s friends, and me hating the help from “girls”. Back seat was always difficult, especially when the horses decided to jump on their hind legs.
No one has yet mentioned the perils of sitting in the front seat, the most important ones being when the horses decided to do “the natural thing” all of a sudden :-) Oh the smell ….
While All Things Pakistan has remained alive and online, it has been dormant since June 11, 2011 - when, on the blog's 5th anniversary, we decided that it was time to move on. We have been heartened by your messages and the fact that a steady traffic has continued to enjoy the archived content on ATP.
While the blog itself will remain dormant, we are now beginning to add occasional (but infrequent) new material by the original authors of the blog, mostly to archive what they may now publish elsewhere. We will also be updating older posts to make sure that new readers who stumble onto this site still find it useful.
We hope you will continue to find ATP a useful venue to reflect upon and express your Pakistaniat. - Editors
Truly a masterpiece of content.
Your article helped me a lot, is there any more related content? Thanks!
You guys are on a roll … reminding us of time long gone with great memories. For me the last 3 in a row have brought back brilliant memories of my childhood, Nihari, F B Area, and now the Tonga.
I grew up in Khairpur, and the tonga was a common form of school transportation. I vaguely remember getting helped on board the tonga by my older sister’s friends, and me hating the help from “girls”. Back seat was always difficult, especially when the horses decided to jump on their hind legs.
No one has yet mentioned the perils of sitting in the front seat, the most important ones being when the horses decided to do “the natural thing” all of a sudden :-) Oh the smell ….
Neither.
The real skill was riding a bike behind a tanga, loaded with giggling girls going to school, ***and** not getting beaten up!
Ohhh those coy smiles and exchange of looks that only was meant for the memory banks because that was ever the extent of it.
You dared no more.
A conversation was simply out of question, it would meant a certain wipe out.
Pristine and so adolescent.
Ahhhh, the joys of youth.
Riding in a tanga was certainly a major skill. But so was riding in the Pakistani minibus. We need a post on how to “pack” a minibus!