Not even my arch-enemies will accuse me of being lily-livered — least of all, the Foreign Registration officers at the Lahore Police Headquarters. In fact, some of them are reluctantly appreciative of my holding-my-own as an Indian woman before the overbearing, muscled-moustachioed- macho Pakistani law-keepers.
As I strode into the Foreign Registration (FR) office this time, I glanced around, checking for the faces, objects and arrangements of re-association in potentially hostile territory. The clock that used to be on the right wall, I noticed, was now above the door.
"Arre Professor Saheba! Aap kab ayeeN? Itne maheenoN ke baad hume yaad aaye?" ("Oh, hello Professor Saheba! When did you arrive? You remember us after so many months?")
The officer rising to welcome me 'home' looked familiar from my last visit, almost a year earlier, when I had come to report my exit from the country. Then too he had touched me with his genuine warmth. "Professor Saheba, why are you leaving?" he had teased. "Are you upset with us?"