Long before he became the emperor of India, Jehangir, Prince Salim for all and sundry and Sheikhu for his father Akbar, used to go hunting in forested country some miles west of Lahore. Later, after a pet deer died, he ordered the building of a memorial tower as well as a water tank and pavilion. He also had a fort built nearby and called it either Jehangirpura or Jehangirabad. Today we know it as Sheikhupura after the emperor's childhood name.

Aside: both the emperor's names, that is, Sheikhu and Salim are after the saint Sheikh Salim Chishti for whom Akbar had great regard.

Like his father Akbar, Jehangir was a great exterminator of wildlife whose Tuzk (diary) lists at various places rosters of all the animals he bagged during his hunts. Indeed, without seeing the irony in it, subsequent to one hunt his diary complains of the paucity of his bag. But one supposes those were times when nobody connected dwindling wildlife with wanton hunting.

Towards the fag end of the monsoon of 1620, Jehangir was encamped with his wives and court at Jehangirabad. It was the month of October and the monsoon had not yet petered out. As the court began the short journey back to Lahore, the rains continued to fall. And they fell with a vengeance.

Now, the Degh River that rises in the hills below Jummu, flows past Sialkot and dumps itself into the Ravi south of Lahore, lies between Jehangir's hunting lodge and Lahore city. As the royal caravan neared its banks, it was found to be a roaring, surging alluvial-red torrent. It was impossible to get across even astride the elephants. For four days the royal court was held up until the sodden tents became too much for the king and his family.

The rains eventually let up, the water receded and the procession passed on to Lahore. Those were days when monsoon rains were what young people today have never known. Indeed, anyone who cannot recall the rains of 1973 and again three years later takes a shower of fifteen minutes to be a monsoon shower. Those were days when the rain would not cease once it began. When it started to come down it would continue for days on end until the rivers flowed over their banks to flood farmland and cities.

To forestall a future repeat of the hold up on the Degh, Jehangir ordered the throwing of a bridge across the river that is normally fordable. To this day the bridge spans the river and serves as a connection between the village of Kot Pindi Das and the Lahore-Sheikhupura highroad.

Haroon, my young companion, and I asked for the umpteenth time for Kot Pindi Das before turning off the highway to the right (north). The new black-top road had not been there when I first went this way nearly twenty years ago. This branch lies just after one goes over the Degh River bridge heading for Sheikhupura and is about eighteen kilometres short of the latter. Kot Pindi Das is six kilometres from the turning and the bridge itself lies a kilometre southeast.

We were joined by a trio of pre-teenage boys who said the bridge was probably built by the angrez. I smiled and by way of explanation the tallest among them said all such things had been done by the angrez, hadn't they. When I told them the bridge was nearly four hundred years old and that was much before the angrez, they wanted to know how I knew. They had heard of the Chugattas -- the variation of Chughtai by which the Mughals are known in parts of Punjab, but Jehangir was a name that rang no bells for them.

The bridge is actually two separate structures about thirty metres apart. The one to the south has two arches while the main structure is lop-sided with a main arch flanked by two smaller arches on one side and one on the other. And the once-good river Degh that flows beneath now stinks with dark untreated poison that it carries down from the factories of Kala Shah Kaku.

Yet buffaloes wallowed in the poison and I found myself wondering what sort of milk we would be getting in Lahore if they also drank the water. When I warned my three local companions against swimming in the river, the tall one said the river was good. A minute later he had stripped and was paddling about midstream.

Thirty years after this bridge was built, in October 1652, Shah Jehan face a similar situation as his father: the rains had persisted and the Degh was flooded. Only this time, the flood was so high that even the bridge was submerged. Once again the royal camp had to halt four days because "certain members of the forward party of the entourage had already been swept away..."

Floods in the Degh have passed out of living memory. Surely 1976 would have seen the swollen river almost touching the top of the arches. After that, rains steadily dwindled away to a time that we now regard a fifteen-minute shower a proper fall of rain. Meanwhile, the bridge continues to serve. We saw tractors with trailers laden with sand or bricks going back and forth and I stood at a respectable distance regarding the crumbling foundations of the bridge piers.

There is a branch of the Degh called the Chhoti or Lesser Degh not many miles to the west. That too has a bridge; only that one collapsed, so they claimed, during the floods of 1976. Its debris lies in the bed of the stream and I cannot but wonder if overuse by laden trailers and lack of maintenance will one day cause the demise of this bridge during a similar flood that may yet come one day.

I'm not the kind of person who watches movies rated R for content that ranges from "bloody, violent, pervasive language, drug abuse etc." (Tagline: Shoot first-Sight see later).

However, I had to make an exception when an offspring insisted I watch Hollywood's latest offering, In Bruges (pronounced Brew-ending with a y sound also spelt Brugge.) It was recommended basically to revisit a favourite holiday destination in Europe, which Tahira from Islamabad, Liz from Tunisia, Mishel and I from Lahore spent some time in.

Bruges, one of Belgium's chief tourist attractions, is the historic capital of West Flanders. Flanders being one of the three regions of Belgium. Art students (Mishel from NCA was one) are most familiar with Flanders since Bruges figures majorly in all medieval painters' lives; the most well-known being Flemish painters Jan van Eyck, Peter Bruegel, Hans Memling.

(In addition to viewing their works in Bruges we also got an opportunity to see a travelling exhibit of Rodin, the sculptors, plaster casts out of moulds.)

We enter Bruges crossing a lovely park around Minnewater. The Minnewater is a canalised lake. Posing on a 16th century bridge, we can already enjoy a nice panoramic view of the town. Because of the idyllic surroundings, it is mostly referred to as "the lake of Love", the Dutch word 'Minne' means love.

Once a 13th-century cloth-making centre, Bruges has a wealth of wandering canals and ornate houses. The historic centre's pedestrian-only streets bristle with Gothic spires and flourishes. So our first stop is the market square, (also because of the excited trek across the Minnewater in an unusually warm July, despite being desi we're complaining about the heat and looking for cold water and ice creams. I think it's also our excess of clothing -- other barely clad tourists seem fine!)

We also discover that Bruges is a city with two town squares. The largest one is the Market, the commercial heart of medieval Bruges. The second square is called the 'Burg'. Here was, and still is, the heart of the administrative Bruges.

Imposingly in the centre of the Market stands the statue of Jan Breydel and Pieter de Coninck, two leaders of the 'Battle of the Golden Spurs' which took place on July 11, 1302, as the plaques say.

The charming cobbled Market square is dominated by the cloth hall and the 83 metre high Belfry tower, one of the symbols of the city. The original cloth hall and tower date from 1240.

Such towers were used as watchtowers. Inside hung bells, each bell having a distinct sound and function e.g: bells for danger, for important announcements, to indicate the time, etc. Nowadays the belfry tower chimes out the lovely music of a carillion, (which consists of 47 bells). As we wait with other tourists to listen to the bells, we hold an impromptu comparison/discussion about our mosque pulpit culture back home. Another story!

Taking a touristy boat ride on the canal, we find another symbol of Bruges: the swan. There are always plenty of them on the Minnewater. There exists a nice legend about the swans of Bruges. In 1488 the people of Bruges had executed one of the town administrators belonging to the court of Maximilian of Austria. The town administrator was called Pieter Lanchals, a name which means 'long neck'. The Lanchals' family coat of arms featured a white swan. Legend has it that Maximilian punished Bruges by obliging the population to keep swans on their lakes and canals till eternity. Most of these legends and romantic interpretations come from the 19th century. Believe them or not: the beautiful Minnewater deserves them.

Lining the canal on both sides are well-kept stunning gothic buildings (my general term for medieval looking houses). I've lost count of the number of times I read in various corners of numerous buildings that they had been destroyed by fires or floods and rebuilt several times over centuries (There are even arty groups dedicated to trashing it for being fake "unfit for the beautiful gothic Bruges"). Technically, our NCA companion informs us, they are not really medieval because a lot of them are modern reconstructions of the medieval styles. And that Bruges is as much a medieval city as a neo-gothic reconstruction from the 19th century.

It is not difficult, however, to understand that buildings which are several centuries old always have to be renovated at certain times just for the sole purpose of keeping them in existence. Will the Empire State building, if it still exists in 500 years, look exactly the same as today, with no single stone changed?.

Because of its canals Bruges is often called The Venice of the North. The water situation in both cities was, however, very different. Venice was founded on islands in a lagoon of the Adriatic sea. Bruges lies deeper inland; at least now, because in the five centuries B.C the Flemish coastline must have been flooded several times by the North Sea. When the waters retreated, they left behind different sea-arms via which ships could reach the area where now Bruges is situated. Bruges was probably already visited by the Vikings. I read that the Flemish name Brugge is probably derived from the Latin word Rogia (which was the Latin name of the Reie the river which flowed through Bruges), and the Scandinavian word Bryggia, which meant 'mooring place'.

The Town Hall is fascinating. On the frontside are displayed the town weapons of the cities and villages that were under administrative rule from Bruges. There are 48 niches for statues. The original statues (biblical figures and counts of Flanders) were demolished in the aftermath of the French Revolution. Their 19th century replacements have already been changed for more modern versions. In the entrance hall a large staircase leads to the so-called Gothic Hall (1386-1401). This hall was decorated in 1895 with neo-gothic wall paintings that illustrate the most important events in the history of Bruges.

The Burg square (which we attempt in when it's cooler) is really a showcase of different European architectural styles. Next to the gothic town hall stands the Old Civil Registry in renaissance style (1534-1537). The decorative statues were also smashed to pieces in 1792, but later renovated. The bronze statues represent Justice, Moses and Aaron. Since 1883 the building is used as Peace Court. Next to this stands another building in another style: the former Court of Justice in neo-classicist style (1722-1727). Inside this building is the famous monumental chimney of the 'Brugse Vrije'. The chimney was built between 1528 and 1581 in wood, alabaster and marble, to commemorate the victory of Emperor Charles V on the French king Francois. The former Court of Justice now houses the Tourist Information Centre.

As night falls we are treated to a colourful rock concert in the courtyard, which we are told is specially organised during high tourist season. Thoroughly energised, we demonstrate our bhangra moves and are applauded!

Mindless entertainment after a mindblowing day!