PEER E KAMIL

Untitled Part 13

All four of them were in Heera Mandi, the red-light district of Lahore.

They were between eighteen and nineteen years of age and their

appearance gave away their upper class background; but out here

neither age nor social background meant anything, because young boys

often frequented the area and the elite were among the most regular

customers.

The boys made their way through the narrow lanes of the bazaar. Three

of them were lost in conversation but the fourth looked around with

interest and a sense of mystery. It seemed that this was his first venture

into this domain, and a later exchange with his friends confirmed this.

On both sides of the lane, in open doorways, stood women of every age,

shape, size and complexion—fair and dark, beautiful and plain—all

heavily made up and dressed in a revealing way. And men of all ages

also passed through the lane. The boy observed everything very

carefully.

̳How often have you been here?' He addressed the boy to his right who

laughed and repeated the words.

̳How often? I don't remember now—I haven't kept count! I come here

quite often,' he said proudly.

̳I don't find these women very attractive...nothing special about them,'

the boy shrugged his shoulders. ̳If one has to spend a night somewhere

at least the environment should be pleasant—this is such a filthy place,'

he said looking distastefully at the potholes and the piles of garbage in

the lane. ̳Besides, what's the point of coming here when you have

girlfriends?'

̳This place has its own charm and there's no comparison between these

women and our girlfriends. Girlfriends can't dance like the women

here,' the other boy said with a laugh. ̳And today one of Pakistan's top

actresses is going to perform—just wait till you see her.'

̳But you had taken me to see her dance,' the first boy interrupted.

̳Oh that was nothing—just a ―mujra‖ at my brother's wedding. But

here it's a different story.'

̳But that actress lives in a very posh locality; why would she want to

come here?' His tone was somewhat suspicious.

̳Ask her yourself today, if you want. I don't ask such questions.' The

other boys laughed at this remark, but the first one looked at him

askance.

They finally reached their destination at the end of the lane. From a

shop near the entrance, they bought garlands of motia which they

wound round their wrists, and also on the wrist of the boy who was

objecting to being there. Then they bought paan laced with tobacco and

also offered one to him—he had probably never had paan before. They

went up the stairs.

He looked around critically and a look of satisfaction crossed his face

when he saw that the place was not only clean but well decorated too.

The floor was covered with white sheets and there were bolsters to

recline on. Curtains fluttered softly on the doors and windows. Some

people had already arrived but the performance had not yet started. A

woman with a lovely but fake smile swiftly made her way to them. As

she spoke to them, the first boy took in her appearance. She was middle-

aged, plastered with make-up and sported masses of rose and motia

garlands in her hair. She was dressed in a screaming red chiffon sari

and her blouse seemed to have been made not to cover but to reveal her

body. She led the boys to a corner of the room and seated them.

As soon as he sat down, the first boy immediately spat the paan out into

a spittoon nearby. It was hard for him to talk with his mouth full of

paan; besides he did not quite like its feel or flavor. The other three

boys were speaking in low tones. He looked around at the other men in

the room who reclined against the cushions with wads of notes and

bottles of alcohol in front of them. Most of the older men were dressed

in starched white clothes; it was the first time he had seen so many

people dressed in white other than at Eid congregations. He himself was

dressed casually in black jeans and a black T-shirt like his friends and

the younger crowd.

A little later, another woman in garish clothes entered the hall and,

seating herself in the centre, began to sing a ghazal. Musicians

accompanied her. After a few songs, she collected the money that had

been showered on her and left. Then the famous actress for whom they

had all been waiting entered the hall and everyone's eyes were riveted

on her. She twirled around and welcomed her admirers with a gracious

nod.

The musicians did not play this time and loud recordings of raucous

songs filled the room. The performer began to dance. The silence that

had preceded her performance was broken by applause as the men

noisily appreciated her dancing and drinks went around. Some of the

more intoxicated men got up and began to dance with her.

The only one who sat still watching the performance was the first boy.

His face was impassive, but if one looked closely it was obvious that he

was enjoying himself. When the actress came to the end of her dance

about two hours later, most of the men in the hall had passed out. Going

home was not a problem for them as they had not come with the

intention of going back any time soon—they were there for the night.

The four boys also spent the night there.

The next day, on their way back, one of the boys turned to the first one

who was looking out of the car.

̳So, how was the experience?'

̳All right,' he replied casually.

̳All right? That's all? Honestly...' Annoyed, he broke off in mid-

sentence.

̳It's a good place to visit occasionally. What more can I say? But it did

not have that ―something special‖ touch about it. My girlfriend is better

than the woman I spent last night with,' he retorted.

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