The Conservative Cave
Current Events => General Discussion => Topic started by: bijou on May 02, 2011, 12:53:15 PM
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Has an interesting history and a poem was written about it.
The town of Abbottabad in British India was the headquarters of the then Hazara district, and was named after Major James Abbott who founded the town and district in January 1853 after the annexation of the Punjab. He remained the first Deputy Commissioner of the Hazara district between 1849 until April 1853. Major Abbott is noted for having written a poem titled "Abbottabad", before he went back to Britain, in which he wrote of his fondness for the town and his sadness at having to leave it. Abbottabad became and is still an important military cantonment and sanatorium, being the headquarters of a brigade in the Second Division of the Northern Army Corps.[3] The garrison consisted of four battalions of native infantry (Gurkhas and Frontier Force) and four native mountain batteries.[4]
In 1901 the population of the town and cantonment was 7,764[3] and the income averaged around Rs. 14,900. This increased to Rs. 22,300 in 1903, chiefly derived from octroi. During this time chief public institutions were built such as the Albert Victor unaided Anglo-Vernacular High School, the Municipal Anglo-Vernacular High School and the Government dispensary.[4] In 1911 the population had risen to 11,506 and the town also contained four battalions of Gurkhas.[5]
In June 1948, the British Red Cross opened a hospital in Abbottabad to deal with thousands of patients who were being brought in from the Kashmir fighting areas.[6] On October 8, 2005 Abbottabad was devastated by the Kashmir earthquake. Although most of Abbottabad survived, many old buildings were destroyed or damaged.[7]
link (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Abbottabad)
I remember the day when I first came here
And smelt the sweet Abbottabad air
The trees and ground covered with snow
Gave us indeed a brilliant show
To me the place seemed like a dream
And far ran a lonesome stream
The wind hissed as if welcoming us
The pine swayed creating a lot of fuss
And the tiny cuckoo sang it away
A song very melodious and gay
I adored the place from the first sight
And was happy that my coming here was right
And eight good years here passed very soon
And we leave our perhaps on a sunny noon
Oh Abbottabad we are leaving you now
To your natural beauty do I bow
Perhaps your winds sound will never reach my ear
My gift for you is a few sad tears
I bid you farewell with a heavy heart
Never from my mind will your memories thwart
link (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Abbottabad_%28poem%29)
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Abbottabad has quite an interesting story.
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For the near future it is going to be know as the place where OBL got shot in the head and probably crapped himself.
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Isn't Abbottabad next to Costellostan?
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Isn't Abbottabad next to Costellostan?
Ba-da, dum. :lmao: