At one point in our years in Lahore, in northern Pakistan, on the fertile Punjabi plains, we moved into the Mayor's house; it was up for rent, as the owner was languishing in jail for some forgotten knavery. Short of a rajah's palace, it was one of the finest houses in the city, and represents in my psyche, the lost, golden Eden of the brief, true happiness of childhood. Perhaps that was my only unquestionable happiness, in the momentary balance of innocence, growing knowledge, coupled with the anticipation of a finer, wider world promising to unfold like a lotus blossom. The compound, a corner lot was large and square. Outside it, heat and dust reigned; inside, water flowed, trees bloomed; birds, lizards and humans took their ease.-------------More...
