A Sufi day

Excellent Start

Our hostel manager Sajjad put on an amazing breakfast of chickpea curry and naan (both bought) plus plums, peaches and mangoes. We washed that down with lime juice and then some chai. As we would have activities for the afternoon and the night, we decided to do nothing this morning. The heat was oppressive, the forecast was for 43degC and even with relatively low humidity, one sweats and feels so so yukky. I was on to my third shower by 1400.

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Qawwali devotional singing

Sajjad had organised his regular tuktuk driver to take us to Shrine of Data Ganj Bakhsh Hajveri to witness some Qawwali devotional singing by the Sufi sect of Muslims. Different groups are seated on a stage and they sing accompanied by drums and an accordion of sorts. Some devotees danced around, notably one in a saffron salwar-khameez; I couldnt’ help thinking he was Hindu because of his apparel and grooming style. It wasn’t my kind of music and the speakers made it less likeable … no offence to any Sufis out there but I wouldn’t pay to go to church to hear people sing either.

From sitting on the hostel rooftop and also from our little outing, Lahore doesn’t seem as third world as Karachi (or at least Karachi’s Saddar area). Saddar has many crumbling buildings, narrow streets and plenty of those famous richly decorated buses. On the other hand, Lahore has old buildings in decent repair, wide streets and modern air-con buses.

Sufi Drumming and Whirling

At about 10pm we went out for some Sufi sect’s drumming and whirling at the Shrine of Baba Shah Jamal. It started off with more Qawwali music but this time it was a bit more to my taste. Locals were extremely friendly but there was one that might have seen me as his passport to a Malaysian work visa (reminds me of a Vietnamese guy I met in Lao). Marie thought there may have been some “non-standard” cigarettes being smoked at the same time too.

The Qawwali went on and on and at about 0030 we decided that we would leave as the drummers and dancers hadn’t arrived. Our tuktuk driver wouldn’t have a bar of it … he wasn’t going to let us come all the way here and not see the drumming which was running very late tonight.

The drummers finally turned up at 0145; the rhythm and depth of the sound was pretty mind-blowing. One then broke into a whirl with plenty of head-shaking at the same time. Just as we getting into it, one of the two old holy men decided to put a stop to things so that they could do some decoration of tassles etc for an upcoming event. Perhaps he wasn’t thinking, he never gave the OK to resume even when the decoration was complete. Perhaps no one dared to challenge him.

We never even got to see the Sufi dancers in full flight; only the drummers who did start to whirl. At various stages we did think of asking when exactly the drummers and dancers would start … but that would be so so rude. That would be like going to a Catholic mass and putting one’s hand up and saying “Can you please just fast forward to the part where you turn the wine into His blood and the bread into His body?”

Day in review

We didn’t leave till 0300.  Both of today’s cultural happenings only take place on Thursday and I had arranged to be Lahore on a Thursday in order to experience them. While the Qawwali singing wasn’t exactly my cuppa tea, it is to be experienced.  But the Sufi drumming was pretty awesome.

Staying at our hostel (rather than a hotel) allowed us the right connections to get into these events.  Travel for me is more than looking at old buildings or resting in an air-con room in between (but I wish; I do want an air-con room in this crazy heat).

Random observation: ​Pakistanis vary in appearance from very fair to very dark. It surprised me ​th​at many of the devotees here were largely dark, perhaps even Dravidian in appearance compared to some of the more Aryan looks that is common in parts of Pakistan.

[Edit: I believe it was here someone asked for my phone number. I gave my rarely-used Malaysian number to avoid getting bothered. How wrong I was! When I was in Malaysia several times after, I had TXTs and calls from someone who had eventually moved to Malaysia as a migrant worker. He was latching on to me in the hope of moving to a better job. He couldn’t understand that I was in Borneo, across the South China Sea by plane and couldn’t hop on a bus to come see me. ]