Owais Mughal

Railways in areas now comprising Pakistan started with the first track opening between Karachi and Kotri on May 13, 1861.

For the next 18 years, freight from Karachi port was shipped to Kotri and from their steamers of Indus Flotilla Company took it to Multan via river Indus and river chenab. On April 24, 1865 Multan was connected by Railways to rest of East India via Lahore and Amritsar.

Following is a map of Railways in Pakistan from the year 1870. One can see how the track stopped at Kotri and then commenced again from Multan to rest of East India via Pakpattan, Lahore, Present day Wagah border and Amritsar. This map is interesting because one should note the track starting from a small town near Multan called Sher Shah which is located on the banks of River Chenab. Also noticeable is that track in 1870 went through Pakpattan. This is not a mainline anymore as Mainline these days bypasses Pakpattan and reaches Lahore via Sahiwal and Raiwind.

Adil Najam

We have written about the ‘street McDonalds’ stands before and this new picture is also interesting.

Not sure how the corporates from McDonald’s feel about this. Probably not too good. Although, they should realize that they are not likely to be losing any customers to these street-vendors… in fact, they just may be getting free publicity (including on this blog) in the bargain.

But if they were smart, they may also like to get some good ideas from these vendors. I still remember my good ol’ bun-kabab (a.k.a., bund-kabab) – a burger look-alike, but with spicy shaami kebab inside. Frankly, I wil take a bun-kebab any day over a McDonald’s burger. What I woudl prefer even more is a bun-samoosa… or, if I were in a mood to splurge, a bun-samoosa-kebab dripping with spicy goodness.

And that is the idea that the McDonald’s guys in Pakistan should really be taking from these street vendors. Coming soon to a McDonald’s near you, the All New McBunSamoosa.

It could be a big winner!

Raza Rumi

Parveen Shakir (1952-1994) has defined the sensibilities of several generations and beyond. At the relatively young age of 42 years, Parveen Shakir died on an empty Islamabad boulevard, as if this was an essential part of her romantic persona. But she had lived a full life where poetry and tragedy intersected each other and became inseparable from her being.

As a young student in high school, I was introduced to Shakir’s romantic poetry, which was best represented by her first collection of poetry ‘Khushbu’. I had won an essay writing competition in Urdu and a delightful award came in the form of this tender volume of poetry. Since then I have always returned to bits and pieces of Khushbu. It may not be according to the cannons of literary theory, but it is spontaneous, fresh and almost dreamlike. Shakir was bearly 24 years old when Khushbu was published and since its first edition, this book has been a best seller wherever Urdu poetry is read or appreciated.