Lahore 1927 - Excerpt

My room was filled with pictures of Firangi memsahibs and a lot of Punjabi books. It seems a bit odd for a thief to read, but a book and a bottle of Firangi Daaru is what makes me tick and smile like an idiot. Moreover I was not a thief, Bhanu dragged me into this but it got me my 600 cc Scout so I’m not complaining. There were few samosas left from yesterday, I gulped them and finished up that Daaru and sleep caught me like bliss.

“Open the door” there was loud banging on the door, and trust me when you’re pleasantly sleeping with a smirk on your face and someone bangs that metal door, it sounds like hell, one look at the wall clock told me I’ve slept the entire day, it was already afternoon. “Open the door” the metal door banged again. It was Khala from the sound of it. I got up and my stomach made a sound, it wanted food, I opened the door and there was Khala in all her glory wearing that Burkha and looking at me with those fiery eyes like she knew that I’ve kissed her daughter. “Me and Nisha are going to Peshawar for a week, take care of the house and don’t let those Chillum smoking friends of yours come near my house”. With that thrown at my face she left towards the stairs. I watched her go and said Assalam Walekum

I went back swinging, I can't sleep now, my room had no cupboards, just aisles made of bricks, and on them the last bottle of Firangi daaru from my stock, standing tall on newspaper cutting of Gandhi. I pocketed that bottle, locked the gate and walked out, my thoughts wandering from Bhanu to Nisha. Yousif park is a small but tricky colony, there are so many narrow allies that kids have the time of their life. Some are so narrow that fat people get stuck. Last year a guy died of a heart attack after being stuck in the alley for 3 hours. 

So apart from these allies there is a market place around the river bed and a bridge that leads to Cantonment. Being so near to Cantonment the streets are filled with red coat Firangis talking hindi in a funny accent. I usually park my motar in front of Abdul sweet shop. Abdul is always under the weather, no matter what’s the season he’s always seen wearing a white vest and a white cap, wearing a green coloured amulet around his neck. The whole market place was filled with people pushing carts, smoke rising from food stalls, bunch of red coat firangis, a few firangis and memsahibs walking like royalty wearing those western clothes, children running, shirtless people pushing carts, everything was made of red bricks here, few Hindustani soldiers were riding a horse. I took a sip from my bottle and started walking towards Gymkhana club, it was then a guy was seen running and throwing pamphelts in air, shouting over his lungs "Inqalab Zindabad" "Inqalab Zindabad" followed by Hindustani soldiers, He was running straight through the most crowded area, he pushed a child off to ground when he passed me, I picked up the child and saw the pamphlets lying down. I picked one up and it read.

"We fight for the Liberty of Indian Masses. For the honour of Indian Woman Hood. And for the peace of the World.

LONG LIVE REVOLUTION

HSRA

PUNJAB HEADQUARTERS

Lahore"

Kraantikari I said and felt goosebumps all over, Abdul was leaning over the pamphlet I gave it to him and followed in the direction of Kraantikari, everyone was going in that direction and there were more "Inqalab Zindabad" slogans raised around the crowd, I watched the Kraantikari jump on a running bus and high five more people like him, soldiers stood there abusing, some even aimed their sticks at the bus, but the hero eloped and the crowd cheered. I picked up another pamphelt and