By Sonya Rehman
The drive down Mall Road in Lahore, Pakistan, is like one long, live-action postcard. The trees, the Mughal architecture left over from the British Raj, the disorderly motorists, the frazzled traffic wardens: all give the area a buzzing, yet antiquated feel. It’s almost as if Lahore decided to conserve this best part of herself as an ode to life before partition.
But I have not come for ambience. I have come for ice cream.
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