I disliked them. Those 'Bangla'. There were everywhere. They took control of the supermarket, the sideways, the gas station, the airport. They were just 'everywhere'.
As I reached Lahore 4 years ago, they were also everywhere! Too late to turn back home as the next flight was on the next couple of days. I couldn't wait to get into the hotel room. I just wanted to be left alone without seeing any 'Bangla'.
The immigration counter was 2 hours away, as there were about 60 people ahead of me. I took a deep breath and kept telling myself to calm down. Few women passed by, went straight ahead without having to queue. This is unfair! I thought. I pulled myself together and was getting ready make a complain. I tested my communication skills on their way of pronunciation.
As I reached the officer, I was ready with enough strength to twist and curl my tongue in order to be understood. I actually swung my head is such a way to get the right curl of my tongue. I just want to make sure he got my complain right.
The officer smiled at me and pointed at the sign 'for woman travellers and children only'. I handled my passport. Blushed.
Reaching the customs counter, I was behind a man, who was struggling hard, stuffing all his belongings back to his opened bag. Oh no... I wondered what would jump out of my bag later.
Next, my turn.... the custom officer signalled me to the exit. Wow! I went through without hassle.
Someone was outside waiting for me for 4 hours. He was told not to make me wait and to make sure I reach the hotel safely, by his boss. Relief...
I reached the hotel room, enjoyed the ambience, elegance, the view and the local music on TV.
The next day, at breakfast time, the waiter told me about his experience working in Malaysia. He likes Malaysia and he likes Malaysian. He was telling me how hard his life was, when he lost his job due to end of Visa. He saved every single cent for his family back home. It was just a quickie meal, as people were already at the lobby waiting to bring me to the client's place. They kept me confident of my safety.
As reaching the client's place, Lahore University Of Management & Sciences (LUMS), I felt so welcomed. The place is so beautiful. The women were gorgeous. Those people were so friendly. Their men regard women with full of respect. I've never felt so honored.
My conducted course went well. Perfect arrangement done for me. I didn't even have to start my own computer as it was all taken care of. My coffee mug was always filled whether or not I like it. I didnt even have to carry my own computer.
I was taken to a nice dinner with traditional performance. They came in their full punjabi's costume for me to see. They accompanied me for breakfast, for lunch and dinner throughout my 3 days visits. They were everywhere! I was surrounded by those wonderful people, the great hosts.
Back to Malaysia, he helped me with my luggage. I thanked him and I gave him my sincere smile. The Pakistani porter. He is no longer a 'Bangla' to my senses. He sacrifices his family and his life for the money. Sometimes he gets paid, sometimes he doesn't. He is here to support his family back home.
As I reached Lahore 4 years ago, they were also everywhere! Too late to turn back home as the next flight was on the next couple of days. I couldn't wait to get into the hotel room. I just wanted to be left alone without seeing any 'Bangla'.
The immigration counter was 2 hours away, as there were about 60 people ahead of me. I took a deep breath and kept telling myself to calm down. Few women passed by, went straight ahead without having to queue. This is unfair! I thought. I pulled myself together and was getting ready make a complain. I tested my communication skills on their way of pronunciation.
As I reached the officer, I was ready with enough strength to twist and curl my tongue in order to be understood. I actually swung my head is such a way to get the right curl of my tongue. I just want to make sure he got my complain right.
The officer smiled at me and pointed at the sign 'for woman travellers and children only'. I handled my passport. Blushed.
Reaching the customs counter, I was behind a man, who was struggling hard, stuffing all his belongings back to his opened bag. Oh no... I wondered what would jump out of my bag later.
Next, my turn.... the custom officer signalled me to the exit. Wow! I went through without hassle.
Someone was outside waiting for me for 4 hours. He was told not to make me wait and to make sure I reach the hotel safely, by his boss. Relief...
I reached the hotel room, enjoyed the ambience, elegance, the view and the local music on TV.
The next day, at breakfast time, the waiter told me about his experience working in Malaysia. He likes Malaysia and he likes Malaysian. He was telling me how hard his life was, when he lost his job due to end of Visa. He saved every single cent for his family back home. It was just a quickie meal, as people were already at the lobby waiting to bring me to the client's place. They kept me confident of my safety.
As reaching the client's place, Lahore University Of Management & Sciences (LUMS), I felt so welcomed. The place is so beautiful. The women were gorgeous. Those people were so friendly. Their men regard women with full of respect. I've never felt so honored.
My conducted course went well. Perfect arrangement done for me. I didn't even have to start my own computer as it was all taken care of. My coffee mug was always filled whether or not I like it. I didnt even have to carry my own computer.
I was taken to a nice dinner with traditional performance. They came in their full punjabi's costume for me to see. They accompanied me for breakfast, for lunch and dinner throughout my 3 days visits. They were everywhere! I was surrounded by those wonderful people, the great hosts.
Back to Malaysia, he helped me with my luggage. I thanked him and I gave him my sincere smile. The Pakistani porter. He is no longer a 'Bangla' to my senses. He sacrifices his family and his life for the money. Sometimes he gets paid, sometimes he doesn't. He is here to support his family back home.
