Attock formerly known as “Campbellpur” is a small and beautiful city of lovely people. Maybe it’s my natural inclination towards my maternal family but I’ve always felt nostalgic feelings for this city.
I can recall all those pleasure trips to my late grandmother’s house. In those days, the eight hour long journey usually left us tired and by the end we used to make our mother annoyed by asking repeatedly the same question
“How much time before we reached?”
For me, the very names of river Haro and the light grey Kala chitta mountain range hold a sweet scent of love and care.
In my memories, my grandma’s house thrives as a warm and cozy place which wholeheartedly embraced the large family of more than thirty people. The veranda was large and in that sunlit place of home, we children remained busy in playing for long hours.
In front of the house there was a market. There were some shops of cobblers and all day long we could hear the hammering sound of their tools but in the evening as soon as the color of the sky turned black, the loud bang of shutters announced the closure of market.
In the small city of Attock, people wake up early in the morning and when the sun is still yawning, the city streets burst into life.
Attock is a city of largehearted people where residents are tightly knit with each other.The educational institutions in this “home of gunners” are best. This is a land of brave people and I feel proud to be associated with this city.
Writing 101: A map as a muse
photo credit: pictures.org.es