35053668-Empire-of-the-Soul-Paul-William-Roberts

196
EMPIRE OF THE SOUL
that this was the last time I’d see it looking essentially the way it had
since the late sixteenth century.
By early evening, Ray and I were in Lahore, one of innumerable
cities referred to – usually in awful irony now – as the Paris of the
East. Crossing from India into Pakistan, the first thing I noticed was
how much more run-down the place looked compared to the land
connected to it before Partition. Squat, crumbling structures,
potholed roads, hardly a sign of those few concessions to the late
twentieth century that were visible in much of India, especially
power and communications. Far from being an Oriental ‘Paris,’
Lahore – much of it, anyway – was a shambles of heat-blistered
rubble, makeshift mud brick or cracked concrete huts, and
overgrown expanses of dessicated weeds. It seemed nearly deserted,
too.
The Intercontinental Hotel’s five-star modernity merely
emphasised the decay outside; but even it seemed afflicted by a sinister
stasis that made you feel you were disturbing the staff. And this staff
regarded us with deep suspicion. Passports were held for police
inspection; all movements appeared to be monitored as if the only
reasons for Westerners to be here were the wrong reasons. I felt
distinctly uneasy. Ray shrugged it off as he shrugged everything off,
announcing that he had ‘some business to take care of.’
Left alone, I entered the freezing, deserted bar and drank a couple
of doubles to relax me. This was an Islamic state, so alcohol was
served to foreigners only. A personable old bartender with a Britishstyle
military moustache asked me enough questions to justify his
trust, then proceeded to tell me how General Zia was ruining the
country. I was cautious with my answers, not certain that I could
justify my trust.
‘This city was once so full of life,’ he confided. ‘Nightclubs,
singing, laughter . . . Now it is dead. No life. We do not like this
sharia, Islamic law. It is not for our people.’
Zia’s piety, I heard, was a sham – something designed to impress
his oil-rich fundamentalist pals in the Middle East. He was spending
all the country’s money on mosques – just for show – the most
ambitious named after him and currently under construction. Zia
did not seem to be a popular dictator.