The Lahore connection
By Tanuj Garg CEO, Balaji Motion Pictures In my six years of living in London and running the movie business of two studios, I made friends through work and otherwise, mostly British-Pakistanis and visiting Pakistanis. We kept in touch, during the course of which I was drawn to their faith and to their country. As the relationships grew, I decided to visit them, as I would visit friends in other cities. My decision raised eyebrows from friends and family for obvious reasons, but my contention was why should friends in Pakistan be treated any differently from those in Dubai, London and New York? So in September 2012, I embarked on my first ever adventure to Lahore and Karachi. Let’s focus on Lahore. We’ll save Karachi for another time. A nightmarish visa process and a god-awful journey on a falling-apart all-Economy PIA aircraft from Mumbai was a tiny price to pay for the heavenly experience that I had been keenly anticipating for so long. When I reached my destination, every woe ceased to matter. I could not believe that I was in THE Lahore, witnessing the soil that once belonged to India. The city where Bhagat Singh died, where the Ravi flows, where the declaration of Indian Independence was passed. When my friend Ali Zafar says that Pakistanis crave to show people how much they can love, I concur whole-heartedly. My friend’s father sorted out my local currency and SIM card. Another organized a car. A third ensured I had personal security. A fourth was at myhotel doorstep every evening to take me out. Lahoris are unequivocally hospitable. In their sleepy city, nothing springs to action until noon. Lahori food is to die for, even for vegetarians like me. Lahori women are beautiful and funloving. Lahori boys are intrepid and dildaar. The heavily Punjabi-accented Urdu and the undying spirit of hard partying are infectious. Everything happens behind closed doors. I mean everything - alcohol, mujras, smoking up, cards and more. During the day, old Lahore is a treasure to traverse like Delhi or Amritsar. Everything’s the same. Only the sign-boards are in Urdu. We’re one race. You can’t help think about the futility of Pakistan, the two-nation theory. The historic and magnificent Baadshahi mosque in old Lahore is a marvel. Behind it, ironically, sits the Shahi Mohalla (Heera Mandi). Once renowned for its beautiful courtesans, it has swiftly deteriorated into a sad and seedy red-light district. We had dinner at a restaurant terrace, overlooking the massive courtyard of the masjid. We were served white wine, rum and vodka. Anything and everything is possible in this liquor-banned nation! I couldn’t leave Lahore without visiting the Wagah border. I had to. It was an emotionally riveting experience. India stood a couple of yards from me. It felt strange to wave out to my countrymen from the other side, but I did, with a tear in my eye. I’ve been to Lahore twice in two years, already. I don’t know if I will go there again. Maybe I will, one last time, for a friend’s wedding. The city has a heart. A large one. It extends the warmest embrace. It loves unconditionally. When I return to Mumbai, people ask me if I am safe and alive. I tell them I was, in Lahore. Feedback: tanuj.garg@balajitelefilms.com
Tags : Backbeat