I don't believe…

The author's daughter makes a mango milkshake, triggering a vivid childhood memory. The memory takes the author back to a visit to Faisalabad, Pakistan, as a six or seven-year-old with his father. During the trip, they visited a market, bought toys, and then went to the famous Ghanta Ghar, where they ordered mango milkshakes. An old, humble man joined them, shared a milkshake, and affectionately touched the author's head. Years later, the author discovered the man was a famous poet after reading one of his poems in an Urdu magazine.