Haaye, where to begin (& how not to fetishise as an outsider.) Peshawar, you stole my ❤️ in a day. Were it the Fruit, Fish & Falooda (combined) sellers in Qissa Khawani, the precariously hanging wooden balconies, or the tea stalls that use actual brass samovars?
Was it the shock of seeing the All Saints Church, the shawls of Meena Bazaar, the chaotic density of Sethi Mohalla, or the transportive smell of (surprisingly huge!) fish at Ghanta Ghar?
Maybe it was the millennial pink of the Ghanta Ghar, or the sloping streets of Sethi Mohalla, or the fact that nothing shut down (despite everyone saying everything does) for Jumma. The beautiful sewer drain did make my heart swell a bit, admittedly.
The problem w/ seeing brass samovars is you want to sit down & have qahwa again & the problem with that is you need to find a bathroom. Luckily, a helpful gent escorted us all around Tehsil Park, & then down the bazaar to a clinic, until we found one! You need more toilets, babe.
Is this where that Popalzai wreaks havoc every Eid? And I mean flowers are good enough, but did you really have to be so extra so as to plant bloody Orange trees all over?!? What are you, an orchard? Look at you sitting smug on a thousand rupee note.
But we know what made me really fall in love with you. The big, beautiful Zu. I need some time to process and reflect on the journey, but all I’d say is from Karkhano to Chamkani, you have a new poetic tribute to the city. 🧡🚌🍊
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