This morning I met Saqib. A twenty-something young man from the Punjab region of Pakistan. I had thought that Punjab was Indian. It is. Both. Until Britain brought a borderline into the equation there was no line between the people. Even today they are so similar. Language. Customs. Spices. Same. Well, the spoken language is the same. Written is different … somehow.
He was the second rider of two. The first we left off in deep Oak Creek. And Saqib was going to Mayfair. We had 30 minutes together.
The most amazing thing was, when I asked, he said he was blessed. And that’s an interesting thing for a man his age to say. And so we talked about gratitude almost the whole way. We were bouncing off one another like we were inventing something brand new. Finding out when enough is enough can be exciting.
Blessings from Punjab.
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