ONCE upon a time I flew to England and literally “flew” like a bird and took as much time to land in London as a bird would do. Well, the simple reason is because in those days jet aircraft were far from anybody’s mind. Hence nobody thought of inventing them.
The super constellation that I was travelling in, really took its time in reaching England and that was because the plane did not pass a single airstrip on its way, without landing on it.
From Karachi it went to Tehran where it was perhaps refuelled. After a three hour stop it was onwards to Gamal Abdul Nasir’s Cairo, where in the middle of the night, a coach took us to a shameful nightclub or restaurant for a meal.
Here, for the first time in my life, I saw most parts of the female anatomy in the none of belly dancing. You can first imagine dear readers, the plight of a simple kid from Lahore who very easily got excited by the mere sight of a female ankle back home. And lo and behold, if you can, there was this female slithering like an eel who had a patch here and a patch there on her body. But in the haze of excitement, to me she simply seemed without any patch whatsoever!
I could hardly gulp my food which was heaped on our table by “Turkey Topi” clad Egyptian waiters. From a wall a photograph of Gamal Nasir smiled on the plight of this innocent kid from Pakistan. And kindly note that Nasir had very recently bade farewell to King Farooq and General Najib in the same order very recently. Good old King Farooq, who upon hearing a passionate lecture on Islam by a Pakistani, had commented that it seems Islam was bestowed on go as recently as 14th of August 1947.
From Cairo with flushed faces, courtesy the semi-clad belly dancers, we again flew and flew, and finally reached eternal Rome. Alas we did not have enough time for a “Roman Holiday” and search for a petite princess like Audrey Hepburn. Instead we were ushered in to the airport restaurant for lunch. And by the way, throughout this long journey a simple minded Maulana was my constant companion who was on a mission to convert the heathen of Europe. Although he was totally oblivious to the existence of English language and according to him, the heathen, would understand his sermons in whatever language he chose to speak as God would be his interpreter.
As I was ordering a chicken dish for myself in the restaurant, the maulana asked me whether the chicken ordered was halal or not? I pleaded ignorance and he asked me to order for him some vegetable not fried but boiled. After half as hour’s wait, our lunch appeared, on a trolley, a steaming roast chicken which was as big as a turkey, and beside that in a small saucer were three potatoes, a carrot and few peas, properly boiled.
When I was devouring my chicken with relish, the maulana was gloomily trying to catch his elusive pea with a fork. Suddenly he declared, “This chicken of yours, looks halal to me. Ask the waitress to bring me the same.”
After the Roman ‘halal’ chicken, we flew into Dusseldorf, and then onward to Amsterdam where we had to change planes. To while away the interim period, we were provided with a coach to roam around the canal city Amsterdam. This was my first face to face meeting with a European city and I was thunderstruck as it looked like a dream. The eights, buildings, canals and aroma was surely then stuff of dreams. For me, an inexperienced teenage Lahori all females, no matter of what age, looked devastatingly pretty and delicious.
When all the world is young lad
and every tree is green
And every goose a swan lad...
Thy world was young and even the geese looked the swans to me. In the streets of Amsterdam there were echoes, of that ancient Dutch song which went something like this...
When its spring again I will bring again
Tulip from Amsterdam
With a heart that, true I will bring to you
Tulip, from Amsterdam...
I detached myself from the charms, of Amsterdam with a heavy heart and finally reached my destination London. It looked drab, dull and slow after Amsterdam. Even the girls seemed overdressed in comparison to the Egyptian belly dancer.
ONCE upon a time I flew to England and literally “flew” like a bird and took as much time to land in London as a bird would do. Well, the simple reason is because in those days jet aircraft were far from anybody’s mind. Hence nobody thought of inventing them.
