NY … excellent stuff man … keep em coming …
hey did you have some “Pujjhay kay Paiy”
Bholay Yaar... Phajay dey Paye... of course yaar.
I met a guy, a Siberian, who now lives in England and is married to a UK-Pakistani. He is in Lahore where his wife is working on a documentary on Pakistani Legal System. They both work for TV. Let’s call my friend Husky.
I met him at a Hotel where I used to drop off my kids at the pool, while I went to see friends who are all over the city. Husky and I talked about doing the old city together. One morning I get a phone from him, and he wanted to see the city with me. I asked him what parts have you seen already and what do you think of Lahore? He says, I have been to a couple of dinners and have only seen Qila, and Lahore is “Wild”, and I like it. Man, I said, you have no clue as to what the term “wild” means. I asked if he had a pair of Shalwar Kamiz. No. So, I packed one for him and we met at his hotel. “Should I call my Driver to take us around?”
“No, are you crazy? We are spending 4 hours in Old City, and it is better done on foot. Are you ready?” He goes and changes into my brother’s Shalwar Kamiz. We leave Hotel and stop a Riksha.
“Kithay Saab?” The Riksha driver asks
“Yaki Darwarza, How much”, I ask
“Jo marzi dey dena Saab”
“phir vee.”.
We settle for 60 rupees. All things aside, I pride myself of being a Lahori and I don’t like the idea of getting ripped off by anyone, especially when I am in “my” town. Trust me, it is not a cheap thrill, it is deeper than that. There is a difference, albeit, a very subtle one, between taking a ride and being taken for one.
We pass Wapda House on the Right (that reminds me of all the corrupt electricity bureaucrats, single-handedly responsible for keeping Pakistanis in the Dark), and the Green Vimto truck to the left (the landmark that has been there for as long as I can remember). The Riksha hesitates and stops all of a sudden. The Driver holds the clutch together for it to roll and takes it on the service road, across from Raja Sahib. “Kachra aa geya ay”, he says, while wiping his sweat. While he cleans the spark plug, Husky takes a few photos of the Mall Road. Kachra’s out. We move on. Cross Regal Chowk (I think of all the Bruce Lee movies that I saw in Regal cinema). High Court on the left (reminds me how Bhutto’s attorney presented his head on the silver platter to Zia-ul-Huq) Crossing Anarkali, (I think of poor soul who was buried alive in this place and after whom the bazaar is named). We take a right on BhangiaN aali Toup –aka ZamZama (Kim’s Gun, made famous by Kipling) and get on Lower Mall after traffic light of Kachiri Chowk. Onto Circular Road, passing Data Darbar on the left, I ask him to stop at Yaki Gate (there is no gate there any longer, just an entrance to Hira Mandi).
I pay the driver a generous tip, and he is thankful.
“Is this wild for you?” I ask Husky.
“yes man, this is really fabulous, my hosts would never have shown me this part of Lahore”.
Husky is a Music producer and arranges concerts all over the world. His passion is “indigenous” music, and he has a small instrument, looks like 3-legged twiser. He holds one leg in his mouth and plays with his finger. The sound made by this instrument reminds me the sounds coming out of long bamboo horns used by Australian Aborigines. He tells me that each Central Asian nation has a slightly different version of the same instrument and he has heard that Pakistanis also used something comparable. So part of our mission is to find this instrument. As we walk in the narrow street inside Yaki darwaza, I tell Husky a brief history of Lahore, as brief as I could be since it is only about 3000 years old. I tell Husky about the dozen or so civilizations that flourished here, and all the imperial powers that left their footprints here. It was a Lahore History 101 for Husky. I tell him that in terms of area, Old Lahore is perhaps no more than 2% of what Lahore consists of, but in terms of Culture, Old city is approx. 98% of the Culture that Lahore represents.
Our first stop is a shop, I don’t know what to call it, it is a one man Store, where the mechanic uses a small Welding equipment to attach iron rings together on top of a metal plate. He then puts in empty medicine bottles, which will then be sold to Malshias (masseuses) for 50 rupees a set of 6 bottles. Husky and I buy one set each. We have a little chat with the owner, and he tells us that he has been doing this since he was a young boy, a trade passed on to him by his father, and will be passed onto to his offspring. Our next stop is in a shoe shop, one of about 20 or so in the street, where try on Golden embroider leather shoes, and bargain for a pair each. 600 rupees per pair. Not bad for an all hand made fancy shoe. We are now in the heart of Hira Mandi, a place that thrived in the 17th thru late 20th century, but existed much longer than that. Only until Bhutto and later Zia-ul-Huq banned sex and dance trade under pressure from Islamists. I tell Husky about the history of Hira Mandi. He is amazed beyond imagination to learn how this place, once the epicenter of Indian Classical Music, the birthplace of various Punjabi Musical Ghranas has been kept hidden from Travelers. It is still fairly virgin in terms of its exposure to the world literature. I tell him that Ibn-e-Battuta lived a good deal of time in Delhi, he mentioned Lahore, but he never really talked about Hira Mandi, which at that time (beginning 14th century) was started to rise in terms of its place and importance in Arts and Music. Being in Music industry, he is totally shocked. I explain to him that the buildings you see are standing here since the early 15th century. Older than the Shahi Masjid and the Qila. I tell him that the 15h century brick is lighter in color, more orangish, and less reddish (unlike the Masjid bricks) and that has been plastered over and over. To prove my point, I take my Swiss Army Knife out, and scrap a piece of plaster to show him the old brick. I am embarrassed when the brick turns out to be fairly modern, but I still stand by my theory.
Enroute, we chat with a couple of natives, tell them of our interests, and I tell them how I frequented this place many years ago, when I was a student in a nearby college. People are so friendly and everyone invites us for a Thanda. We thank them for their hospitality and advance. We pass through Galee #8, which reminds of the fight when a group of my buddies and me almost killed a Ghunda. While in College Hostel, I will often venture out in the evening to Hira Mandi, and one day, this big Ghunda stops me and says “bao, I see you often, you must know who I am, I expect you to say Salam to me everytime you make your way through here. “Yes Sir”, I say. I go back to the Hostel and tell my room-mate, and before I know it, a gang of 10 students, with their testostrum level going off the roof is in my room, and asking if I am OK, and how every one is ready to kill the bastard. I think only a small portion of one’s brain is used while doing college work, and the rest of it has to find a way out somewhere. So the whole kafla heads towards Galee #8. In short, I beat the hell out of that Gunda, and all this is happening only a fart’s smell away from Tibi Thana (the police Station). The guy is beaten unconscious and left in the street, but a message has been left for him that not to bother the College boys. Next time we will not be so gentle.
Passing by the old landmark “Phage dey Payee”, our next stop is Lunge Mandi. That’s where the Musical stuff is manufactured and sold. There is a shop where a young boy used to play Table all day. We go there. I negotiate price for a pair of Tablas, and Husky is looking for his instrument. The shopowner brings him a comparable one. “This one is Austrian”, says Husky, “I am looking for a Pakistani one”. So the deal is not made. By this time it is almost one-thirty. We are both hungry. A small street side restaurant, without a name, is chosen. With 4 benches inside, Husky and I go in.
“Key pakaya ay aj? (what is for lunch?)”
“Saab, sajzee, aaloo gosht, daal, murghy, sikhi Kabab ve mil jan gay” (veggies, potatoes and meat, lentils, chicken, and if you like, I can arrange for some Seekh Kababs).
We take a minute to decide.
“Chotay, ik plate daal, ik plate murghy, 6 kababs, tandoori tazi rooti, Nall dou Sprites. Salad vi”
Meal in served in about 20 minutes. We both thoroughly enjoy our lunch and eat everything until the plates are clean. The whole things comes out to about 100 rupees (less than 2 bucks).
Baki Aainda….. to be continued….
NY: this is amazing..thank you for sharing.. is this near bhati gate? and what exactly is hira mandi? is it a street or a bazaar?
anyways..even if u don’t wanna answer those questions..your story is great.. keep em coming.
Can't thank you enough for sharing with us your awesome trip!! Would you mind being my tour-guide when or if i ever go to pakistan??
loved the way you ended your machar waali story..
It’s late. Past 2am. Everyone’s asleep. I peel and mango, chop it in small pieces, and eat it with a Rooti.
you're such a writer.
Dear Amber..Yaki gate is not too far from Bhatti gate. Hira Mandi is a neighborhood associated with dancing and prostitution trades. It no longer has that practiced, but it is still a charming place to visit.
Dear Hayaa.. If our paths cross somewhere, I will gladly show you Lahore. Until then, here is a little walkthrough of it through my eyes.
Husky and I enjoyed our meal thoroughly, and I ask for his feedback.
“this was totally excellent. Bit spicier than I am used to. But everything was fantastic, and I will come back for more when I am in Lahore again”, says Husky.
I was happy that my friend enjoyed a common meal eaten by most Lahoris. For the amount we paid to feed both of us would still not be enough to get a bottle of a mineral water at the Hotel he was staying. Life is so unfair. Unfair for some.
We walk and stop by a Paan shop.
“Have you ever tried a Paan?” I ask Husky.
“No”
“well, you’ve got to”
“sure’
“Ik mitha, tay ik lachi-sapari-khusboo wala”, I ask the Paanwala.
I demonstrate the right way of eating a Paan to him and tell him not to swallow the peeeek. He is eating like a pro and I am truly impressed. He complains that Saparis are too hard. I tell him it is good for your teeth. We walk on.
He is taking pictures of the crazy scene of donkey carts, cycles, Rikshas, small cars, Tangas, each fighting with one another to squeeze through. It is very lively. We pass through Dibbi Bazaar, out of Rang Mahal, mainly a women’s Bazaar, pretty much like Banoo Bazaar. We both pick a Gout (something to use for braiding hair, very colorful) for our wives (both our wives have very short hair, so they can’t use it, we buy it any way) for 15 rupees a Gout. We stop at a Dupata store, and I buy 4 hand embroidered Dupatas for my wife and he buys 20 (mostly as presents to his friends in England). We get good deal. Our next stop is Masjid Wazir Khan.
It is a beautiful mosque in the middle of the old city. It is a shame that it is not being looked after and some of the artwork is being deteriorated. It is a beautiful mosque. We take a few pictures, examine the artwork, and head out.
We catch a Rickshaw, negotiate price, and get in. We get out of Lohari gate, I tell him to take us to the Hotel the long way. We drive on Circular a little, through Landa Bazaar, take a little bit of Empress Road, left of McLeod, Right of Abbot, passing thought Shimla PahaRi roundabout onto Davis Road, left on Egerton and then we are on the Mall. Then the Hotel.
We say byes to one another. I pick my kids up from the swimming pool and we drive home where that evening my sisters had cooked meals for us. My two sisters who live nearby, instead of having us over, brought meals that they had prepared to my parents’ house. Older sister made my most favorite meal “KaR-hee” a yogurt and gramflour mixed based sauce with PakoRas inside. My younger sister made Kema-Bharay-Karalays. Everything was excellent. I tell them of my day in the old city and show them what I bought.
“600 rupees for a pair of shoes? You can buy the same in Ichra market for 200” says my mom. That really made me feel so mad.
“300 rupees for a Dupata? You can buy one for 80 in Anarkali, says my sister. And Now I am really pissed.
I thought I knew Lahore inside out. I guess not.
I can’t stop smiling when i’m reading these.
Thanks for sharing..like Amber says, keep 'em comin
Ahmadi yaar, finally read it all. Man, that was amazing! I am feeling absolutely home sick all over again! Lahore Lahore ee ay!
LAHORE!The best city in Pakistan
http://www3.pak.org/gupshup/smilies/wink.gif
Oh so Nyahmadi is Lahori??? GOSH i didn’t know!
Masooma
Ahmadi yaar, all your stories so far, although very entertaining, are about a bunch of clenched-buttocked, Angrez-wannabee's.
Your story isn't about Pakistan at all. It's about the elite, Pajero driving class, which represents a tiny minority of Pakistan. The best stories revolve around ordinairy people and so far they are in short supply in your accounts.
If you don't know any I'll help you out.
Yaar, my thai'ee smoked a hookah. She could have swore for the Olympics.
Do you want to hear her story?
I am sorry xtreme yaar that found my experiences bit too upper crust. I thought you would appreciate how “magic realism” is actually used to poke fun of that class. You have to some times be able to differentiate the class notion with the autographing mark of the central character(s). (I was in fact taking a crack at those types) You will learn it in time. And yes, don’t ask me about what story about your hooka-smoking Thai-ee you want to share with us, just do it.
NYA,
I know you were taking a crack at those guys, but yaar, life isn't just about negative experiences. Last time I was there, I saw a young boy of about 11-12 yrs of age getting a good thrashing by a the owner of a cycle shop. He had probably stolen something, and was getting whupped with an rubber inner-tube in front of a large crowd.
he was begging for mercy, and eventually the shop owner let him go. The kid ran a few yards away and then turned back and started hurling insults at the shop owner, most of which involved close members of shop guys family. The crowd was still there watching all of this, and by now the shop owner was stood there with his head hanging down.
Well, it wouldn't happen in the UK.
Re: NYAhmadi’s Adventures in Pakistan
Exceptioinally well written, very entertaining episodes 
One of the gems , written exclusively for this forum.
Re: NYAhmadi's Adventures in Pakistan
Where is NYA these days anyway? Has he been banned for life time :P
Re: NYAhmadi’s Adventures in Pakistan
yes, I remember reading those long back.. and they are masterpieces.. he should be baaaack!!! :k:
Re: NYAhmadi’s Adventures in Pakistan
wow!
lol. are u lawyer by any chance? 
these are wonderful sharings. not only deep, detailed but also historical accounts, and artistic touch is
now i definitely wana visit lahore.
Re: NYAhmadi's Adventures in Pakistan
interesting read, thanks
In all these years that I am on GS I havent read this thread.
I really loved your stories ahmadi.
Re: NYAhmadi's Adventures in Pakistan
re-reading this thread all over again - I still can't help but reminisce the short but wonderful time I spent in Lahore... and I miss talking about those time with NYA back in the days.