You are asking for too many of those, said yet another bearded maulvi to my good friend who is a criminal law practitioner; let us call him Mr. Crim Barrister. Taking another deep breath the maulvi said, I want to help you but this stuff is in high demand close to New Years Eve. You might have to pay extra. Mr. Crim Barrister is a fine gentleman of mostly Punjabi, except for some dubious but highly powerful Sindhi, family connections.
That day just before New Years Eve he went from one person to another asking for something he desperately needed on New Years Eve and this maulvi was basically telling him to pay up. Running out of patience, my friend snapped and said, okay, how much? I need four more. Replaying this conversation in my head and narrating it right now, I could be forgiven for implying that this transaction related to the procurement of some fine spirits the sale, possession, manufacture or consumption of which is banned in the Islamic Republic.
Sadly, not so. Of course the story would have been more exciting or at least scandalously readable had it involved alcohol at some point. But my friend was out to purchase some Nikah-namas; apparently the maulvis have a monopoly on the sale of these documents. And since the documents essential to the sacred bond of matrimony are in high demand close to New Years Eve, (bizarre I think), this man of god was charging my friend a thousand bucks extra for handing him four Nikah-namas.
We live in a system where there the system of corruption has its own economy; one that you and I fuel each day in one way or the other. There are economies within that economy. Even as a professional, many of your vocation might tell you to condone certain practices that you might balk at. Later the same day that my friend had procured Nikah-namas from the man of God, I was parked outside a bakery in the Lahore Cantt. Out of nowhere, commotion ensued and deceptively friendly looking Traffic Wardens turned rude and told me to remove my car from the parking space.
When I tried to protest, one officer looked me up and down in my black suit and said, one of your Judges is passing by. We need this road clear. Oh, how the people protested that it was nearly 10 and they needed bread and other items for their homes! But the good officers wanted to ensure that any of us with bombs in our cars should take them elsewhere to explode. In the midst of our grumbled inconveniences, a Judge whisked past. None of us exploded our cars. Traffic wardens saved the day. Another bribe and a hateful road-blocking protest later, I was exhausted of Lahore. And no I do not want to get used to the system.
I cannot ever justify to myself what we often condone and further here each day. Arguing survival is vulgar after a while. It all seemed to be crumbling that eve. I missed Islamabad; a city astoundingly more friendly than the cliques of Lahore. Standing in a queue if I smile at someone, I usually get a glare back. I used to think it was the summer heat but the people didnt seem any friendlier in the winters. From that maulvi to the protestors to the impervious court clerks to the traffic wardens, Lahore was weighing me down.
But here is the thing. Our experiences, although they often shape our biases, only show the limits of our interaction with the world and not its potential extent. Just because we have not experienced something does not mean it is not out there and neither should we remain closed to that possibility. For no logically explicable reason, my evening turned. I had tea with a woman I adore, I met old friends from college, including, Mr. Crim Barrister and we laughed our heads off for no good reason other than being amused by our repressive society and the intolerance that pervades it. I ended up at the house of a near stranger where people rebelled through words, actions and intake of substances. I had fun counting the number of times people violated laws I consider unjust.
The rebelliousness of the human spirit has such energy; even if it is in a comfortable lounge shielded from many eyes. Someone played the drums while perfect strangers joined their voices to sing an Alamgir number. A college senior enlightened me about the philosophy and wonders of the Kathak dance; the balance between the Earth and the Heavens. Driving back and before I collapsed on my friends bed, Lahore was not weighing me down so much anymore. Breaking past my immediate experiences had added something special. Next morning, Mr. Crim Barrister and I agreed upon our New Years resolution: we cannot be tainted by this system. We must meet new people, more people. In kind strangers and friends there lies hope. Happy New Year!
The writer is a Barrister of Lincolns Inn and practices in Lahore. He has a special interest in anti-trust/competition law. He can be reached at [email protected]
