Let me take you some decades ago to see Quetta as a “Little Paris” from the eyes of my grandma.
Grandma started story: “Quetta (1937-1958) – a beautiful and peaceful valley of Baluchistan. It has a historic and lovely road known as ‘Lytton Road’. Our Medical School (my grandma’s) is in Sandeman Civil Hospital. There was a magnificent library known as ‘Sandeman Library’ that is near to the hospital where we can search any kind of literature.
Lyyton Road is fenced by spectacular dense oriental plane trees (Chinar in Urdu). Where
you can feel the darkness at even noon time. The Cypress trees and Oriental Plane tress were brought to Quetta from Paris. When Queen Elizebeth came to Quetta, she passed from this historic green fenced road – the Lytton road. All roads of Quetta were clear from dust and smoke because these roads were used by horse carts and yes! They were pampered (not to shit on roads). Cars were seen exceptionally in those days.
March dressed all the trees with beautiful green budding dresses. Quetta was safe from any allergy related diseases where you just loved to breath as long and deep as you can…
At night, you can see stars on the ground (lights of homes, buildings on hills of Quetta).
Pathan and Baloch were known as Quetta’s royal tribes. There were many literary people in those tribes. All were living happily and no extremism is there.
Almost every single road of cantonment area was named by British people.
Quetta is jeweled by fresh fruits and there sweet smell refresh the total atmosphere of Quetta. The mountains of Quetta were giggled by the fresh water springs. Fans and fridges were rare because the atmosphere of Quetta at those days didn’t need any of these gadgets.
Now listen that why I am (my grandma) telling you only past memories of peaceful and clean Quetta? Because on completion of my medical degree, the beauty of Quetta faded up. Many other communities beside afghan community now started to settle here and the beautiful lush green chinar trees are being cutting down… Some nationalistic people took and décor few trunks of these trees in their homes, to express their grief of their cuttings
And on seeing the devastation of our sweet Quetta in the front of my own eyes, I was move towards a nearby small town where I was start to help poor tribal hilly people.
Now Quetta – “Little Paris” clasped by smoke, pollution, extremism and parched soil …” by Dr. Hashmat Baloch – Baluchistan, Pakistan.
By completing this sentence her eyes were flooded by tears – that were for her sweet
Today’s point to ponder is “if we can’t make our surrounding better than who give us the right to make it spoil.”