The rickshaw chatters through deserted streets, shattering the grey silence curdled over the old city. At six in the morning, only the vendors from villages are here at the Kohati Gate, their pushcarts stacked with spinach. The shutters are still drawn on the pet shops, the birds unaware of the morning’s arrival, their dawn choruses unsung.
A Sikh family stands at the mouth of Jogan Shah Mohalla in Peshawar, waiting for someone or something, their bags a pile on the side. The young man, his face haloed by a black beard, gives me directions to the temple.
with thanks : DAWN : LINK : for detailed news.
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