In the early hours of August 14, 2013 I arrived at the Lahore Airport. As I have written in the past, each time I touch Lahore’s soil it feels like I never left. I am not sure if any other place so effectively erases the impact of time as does Lahore. Or, let me correct this. I feel the same when I touch Stockholm’s soil because the reality is that my home is in a suburb of the Swedish capital, called Sollentuna, where I and my family have lived most of our lives. I consider myself a global citizen with two places closest to my heart: Lahore and Stockholm. Then of course the third place where too I feel at home is New Delhi where even now the old Lahoris congregate on almost a daily basis at the India International Centre. Forty years ago when I left Lahore it was a petite city that was expanding gradually beyond the canal to the east. Much of Lahore was still west of the canal. No more. The expansion eastwards has been rapid and most certainly has moved away from the grand old Mall Road. For us who used to walk on The Mall every evening this shift is saddening and alienating, but then we are a generation whose best days are over and so the cycle of life must go on. The Pak Tea House has been resurrected. I spent two afternoons there, but the old feeling was gone as were all those old familiar faces. Anarkali is no longer that magic bazaar, though it is still frequented by eager customers. This time round, I returned not just as a visitor for a few days or weeks, but to take up a teaching assignment at the Lahore University of Management Sciences (LUMS). The LUMS experience has been simply marvellous. Pakistan’s most brilliant young minds almost invariably study at LUMS and to interact with them is a pleasure for any teacher. I do not remember meeting even a single rude student attending my classes. However, I am afraid that apart from LUMS and possibly a few other private universities, the atmosphere on the traditional campuses remains tense and suffocating. The Jamaat-e-Islami’s student wing, the Jamiat-i-Tulaba-e-Islam, comprehensively intimidates and terrorises teachers and students who do not see eye-to-eye with its ideology. The authorities have failed in ridding our university campuses of such right-wing thugs. The Lahore in which I grew up retained a great deal of its pre-partition pluralism even though the Hindus and Sikhs were gone. We had Anglo-Indians, Parsees and even some Europeans. It was a city studded with cinema theatres, which were not only places of entertainment; they were full-fledged cultural places for families and friends to gather and enjoy an afternoon or evening. Now, most of those theatres are gone; the few that remain are in bad shape. The old Lahore was a much more civilised place. The population was smaller, the difference between the rich and poor was not so obscenely obvious. There was more sympathy and concern. Now money matters. The amount of money in supply is simply staggering. Town planning is geared only for motorists, and for long stretches there is no crossing from one side of the road to another. One literally must gamble with one’s life if one dares cross such a road. On one occasion I tried to do that but for more than 25 minutes I had to balance myself uneasily in the middle of the road on a thin partition. Each time I tried to cross, the motorists would speed up their cars, forcing me back onto that narrow elevated strip. School children are treated with the same apathy and disdain. The new Metro Bus system has greatly helped ease the pressure but the authorities have no plan or vision to help pedestrians. There has been a tremendous increase in religious fanaticism. Instead of a culture of joy, a culture of sternness and regimentation is evolving. Exhibitionism typifies all the sects and sub-sects of Islam: Shias, Sunnis and their various sub-branches of Barelvis, Deobandis and Ahle Hadith. Instead of God as love and creator of all humanity, the message is that God is to be feared and those who are perceived to hold a different point of view from that of the dominant sub-sects deserve to be punished severely. Of course, the most shocking development has been the brutalisation of sensibilities. That a young pregnant woman who married a man of her choice was killed in the vicinity of the Lahore High Court while the police stood passively around is beyond comprehension. I remember going to the High Court to listen to famous cases. The dignity and decorum of the 1960s was most impressive. Someone pointed out that Indians are no better because two girls from a village in north India were raped and then hanged and the suspected criminals include the police. Both these horrific news items have figured in the Swedish media and the question people pose is the following: what is wrong with these societies? In another article I will try to address this question but returning to Lahore I must say that among the positive developments has been the establishment of top class medical facilities in the city. Just before leaving for Stockholm one of my teeth began to hurt. To my very great shock it turned out to be a case requiring a root canal. Upon the recommendation of a friend I sought help at a clinic near Hussain Chowk, off M M Alam Road. The team at the clinic did a wonderful job. Of course such treatment costs money and for most Pakistanis, including the Lahoris, such help is out of reach. That still poses the question: can one come up with better ideas for a more even-handed development? We should keep thinking and discussing. The writer is a visiting professor, LUMS, Pakistan, professor emeritus of Political Science, Stockholm University, and honorary senior fellow, Institute of South Asian Studies, National University of Singapore. Latest publications: Winner of the Best Non-Fiction Book award at the Karachi Literature Festival: The Punjab Bloodied, Partitioned and Cleansed, Oxford, 2012; and Pakistan: The Garrison State, Origins, Evolution, Consequences (1947-2011), Oxford, 2013. He can be reached at:billumian@gmail.com