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Prelude to a year
Prelude to a year
The new year celebrations give me a complex. I realise what I am missing out on. Booze, beauties and the bonhomie that a mix of the two creates, I long for. Why is it that I continue to exist outside a Lahore that must celebrate in the true spirit of the moment? The people that make the news, with their chalaktay jaams and bharakti jawanis.
Newspapers again say millions have been spent on partying by the new year revellers, reassuring people like me that we have not lost the spark for life altogether. This time also, there were reports how everything was meticulously laid out for the big party. There was a shortage of dancers, a shortage of liquor, no shortage of guests from in and outside Lahore who sought a booking with the hotels. And "sources said that a 'barhana' dance had also been planned in the city." Not that I was too keen on availing the last option, but it would have only been journalistically right had the reporter also mentioned the venue. Or is it that naked truth loses its appeal? A friend had the privilege of rubbing shoulders with a few paid bharakti jawanis at a new year bash. He described them as shabby overused bodies with little fire burning inside. But for the manufactured curiosity they are surrounded by, they would be out of work.
I don't get to party but I do frequently run into those who are out to teach these revellers a lesson. They would be occupying a square intimidating the passersby with their presence and they would be noticed issuing warnings in the press to all those seeking to take away from us our identity.
The new year eve in fact is a prelude to how we live in the next 365 days. Hypocrites prone to enjoy their happy moments in hiding.
These moments are not restricted to free intermingling of people on new year eve and closed-door drinking sessions then and thereafter. Even public occasions like marriage parties are given a mysterious colour when you have the hosts whispering selectively into the ears of their guests. "Please proceed to the small hall. Dinner is being served," they mumble, to their own embarrassment, to the embarrassment of the select and the ones left out. No extravagance at the wedding since it creates awe and inspires copying. Plush cars and unequal distribution of wealth doesn't.
The guests involved in the clandestine activity at weddings are lucky to get away with a guilty conscience and a mild stomach pain. Those who succumb to the charms of the moonshine on a Christmas eve are not. They are left with no conscience to boast of. They discover the concealed truth too late in life, and depart. They would have been far better off buying the stuff from a licensed store. The much suspected newspaper is right when it says that "there will be more deaths from consuming poisonous liquor in the coming year."
-- Asha'ar Rehman
Prelude to a year
The new year celebrations give me a complex. I realise what I am missing out on. Booze, beauties and the bonhomie that a mix of the two creates, I long for. Why is it that I continue to exist outside a Lahore that must celebrate in the true spirit of the moment? The people that make the news, with their chalaktay jaams and bharakti jawanis.
Newspapers again say millions have been spent on partying by the new year revellers, reassuring people like me that we have not lost the spark for life altogether. This time also, there were reports how everything was meticulously laid out for the big party. There was a shortage of dancers, a shortage of liquor, no shortage of guests from in and outside Lahore who sought a booking with the hotels. And "sources said that a 'barhana' dance had also been planned in the city." Not that I was too keen on availing the last option, but it would have only been journalistically right had the reporter also mentioned the venue. Or is it that naked truth loses its appeal? A friend had the privilege of rubbing shoulders with a few paid bharakti jawanis at a new year bash. He described them as shabby overused bodies with little fire burning inside. But for the manufactured curiosity they are surrounded by, they would be out of work.
I don't get to party but I do frequently run into those who are out to teach these revellers a lesson. They would be occupying a square intimidating the passersby with their presence and they would be noticed issuing warnings in the press to all those seeking to take away from us our identity.
The new year eve in fact is a prelude to how we live in the next 365 days. Hypocrites prone to enjoy their happy moments in hiding.
These moments are not restricted to free intermingling of people on new year eve and closed-door drinking sessions then and thereafter. Even public occasions like marriage parties are given a mysterious colour when you have the hosts whispering selectively into the ears of their guests. "Please proceed to the small hall. Dinner is being served," they mumble, to their own embarrassment, to the embarrassment of the select and the ones left out. No extravagance at the wedding since it creates awe and inspires copying. Plush cars and unequal distribution of wealth doesn't.
The guests involved in the clandestine activity at weddings are lucky to get away with a guilty conscience and a mild stomach pain. Those who succumb to the charms of the moonshine on a Christmas eve are not. They are left with no conscience to boast of. They discover the concealed truth too late in life, and depart. They would have been far better off buying the stuff from a licensed store. The much suspected newspaper is right when it says that "there will be more deaths from consuming poisonous liquor in the coming year."
-- Asha'ar Rehman
So, moonshine over real!
Dashed dangerous. There is a raging hooch tragedy in Mumbai.
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