A random click from the window of a moving train kept me intrigued about two things. One – Will I ever be able to know the exact location of the place and the second – will I be lucky enough to be able to shoot it again? It was 2009. After I took the picture, which somehow came very sharp, I wanted to know where the bridge existed. It was all trees when I was looking out of the window and clicked the picture. I searched but the web well of knowledge was dry. An old bridge which now stays free of all the traffic and life sparked some interest. One can guess that it likely dates back to the pre-partition era. It’s antiquity made me write about it on my blog. I was fascinated enough that I even wanted to add it somewhere into an unfinished story which sadly is still unfinished and keeps rattling in the head. But above all, I wanted to see it again. But this Saturday, I chose a train instead of a faster bus and stayed dangling at the window. The DSLR was in a standby, the GPS was locked, the clocks were tuned. Then the moment came. And after eight years of living with a restless thought, the intrigue had to die. After seventy five minutes of travel from Rawalpindi, the train passes through an area called JABBA. Right next to the modern and full of life Grand Trunk road lies an old bridge over which many lives crossed each other, many friends traversed to become enemies, many lovers drove seeking happiness. Now, like an old forgotten man, obscure from the world, it sits in silence. It might be recalling the tales of adventures, fortune, pleasure and mishap that it carried. But all those lives are gone and forgotten. It awaits to be forgotten too. Sadly it met me. Now I had to meet him. Again. And now I know where he lives.
Aamir Bilal.

For the geeky curious here are the latitude and longitude values 33.122963, 73.442833