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I live in Multan — the City of Saints. For centuries, people have come here seeking spiritual power and peace. The skyline is crowned with blue-tiled domes and shrines of Sufi mystics, their courtyards filled with the scent of roses and the sound of whispered prayers. The desert wind carries dust from ancient times; it feels as though every stone here remembers something sacred.

Multan is one of Pakistan’s oldest cities — older than empires, layered with history. Traders once came along the Silk Road, and holy men came preaching devotion. Even now, pilgrims arrive to honor their saints, to light candles and tie ribbons of hope. But beneath the color and reverence lies a deep hunger — a longing for truth that rituals cannot satisfy. Many come here seeking blessing, not knowing that the true Blesser is near.

Life in Multan can be hot, hard, and heavy. The sun beats down relentlessly, and poverty grips many families. To follow Jesus here means to live quietly, listening for His voice amid the noise of tradition. Yet I believe God loves this city fiercely. Just as He met the woman at the well, He is meeting hearts here — in tea stalls, in quiet dreams, in unexpected friendships. One day, I believe Multan will truly live up to its name — a city filled not just with saints of the past, but with living ones, transformed by the presence of Christ.