Lahori nights pt I

They had been going to a party. Were supposed to hang out, all of them. It was late at night. They were on their way back. Loud, raucous. All in one car. The streets were busy - expected. It was after all, the Islamic republic of Pakistan. People were repressed, people were not allowed by the braying of the loudest and of the most dangerous, were not allowed to do certain things. So they pushed the envelope in the most minuscule of ways. They were out late and the streets were busy. Horns were honking, the sound was of life and activity. The seven of them were jam packed into one car. This was the way they preferred it.

You are the average of your five closest friends.

In their case, they seemed to be the sum of them. Quieter as individuals, but when they were together, they were all very loud. Outgoing. Obnoxious.

The kid with the car honked at someone ahead of him. The car stopped. Loud sounds. Goading, taunting sounds from his friends. So he honked louder. More obnoxiously. From around him, other cars honked to let him know their displeasure. The trunk of the car jumped as if opened from inside. The doors of the car in front of them opened. From the passenger seat in front came an elderly man, long beard, long flowing white robe. From the other three emerged three big, burly, surly young men. One of them pushed the trunk all the way up, grabbed three beaten down bats from inside, handed one each to one of his brothers, and slammed it shut. They approached menacingly. Traffic all around them, people uncaring or curious.

The boys panicked. The driver of the car pushed the accelerator, tried to wedge his car out. Thankfully, the light had just turned green, and cars were now moving. Unfortunately, the car hit one of the three as he tried to rush past them. He roared as he fell to the ground. One of his brothers swung the bat and missed as the car moved past them. Another was helping his brother up. The father shouted at them. All four got back in the car, revved up the engine and pursued.

The driver had beads of sweat on his brow. The others were laughing at their close call and taunting the men in the car behind them. Making goofy faces out the back window, sticking out fingers from the side windows. As time went on, and they could not shake their pursuers, they began to get worried.

“We can go to one of my friend’s houses. He has guards. A lot of them. They won’t follow us inside.”

The others murmured assent in small voices. They were still kids, after all. They drove that way. The night was getting older, bleeding into darkness, stars twinkling, the full moon mellow and watching over the world below with melancholy.

The kids drove along side and main roads. Their followers they could not shake.