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English Chronicles 2025 26printed 51 · PDF 61
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The dawn breaks gently over the sprawling campus of Aitchison
College, Lahore. Nestled in the heart of the bustling city, the historic
institution feels like an oasis of serenity as the first light of day filters
through the tall eucalyptus and banyan trees. The air is cool and sharp,
carrying the faint aroma of dew-soaked grass and freshly watered
flowerbeds. The early November chill whispers through the branches,
causing leaves to flutter softly to the ground, creating a natural carpet
of gold and green on the pathways.
As the sun inches higher, its golden rays touch the majestic colonial-
style buildings, illuminating the intricate brickwork and arched
verandas. The iconic Main Building, with its domed towers, stands as a
timeless sentinel against the pale blue sky. The college grounds,
expansive and immaculately maintained, are a symphony of colors,
with manicured lawns stretching endlessly and flowerbeds bursting
with marigolds, petunias, and chrysanthemums.
The air is alive with the hum of morning activities. The rhythmic
patter of joggers’ feet echoes along the tree-lined avenues as students in
crisp white uniforms gather in small groups, their breath visible in the
crisp morning air. The occasional burst of laughter punctuates the
stillness, mingling with the chirping of sparrows and the cooing of
doves perched atop the college’s ancient trees.
The iconic Oval, the heart of Aitchison College, lies resplendent in the
morning light. Its emerald-green grass sparkles with dew, inviting
young athletes to practice. Cricket players warm up at one end, the
gentle thwack of the ball meeting willow adding to the morning’s
melody. On the far side, a horse gallops across the polo ground.
A Crisp morning in Aitchison
AC Chronicles
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