Stories about dance

Would someone please pop the desi-elite bubble?

Have you ever tried to see through a soap bubble? The world seems distorted; askew. But what if you were inside the bubble? What if everywhere you looked, your vision was tinted by the soapy, bubbly lens – the world would still look distorted but you wouldn’t really know, because no matter which angle you chose to look out, the world would seem the same. So, when one lives in the ‘elite’ bubble, all seems quite well with the world! People in this bubble hail from rich families, have been educated at either the most expensive schools or have a foreign degree, promote ...

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Friends don’t let friends dance sober

“Call it what you wana call it, I’m a freakin’ alcoholic,” Over 100 young Karachiites chanted this song, with happy pills in their systems and joints and glasses of alcohol in their hands at a recent party. While possession of alcohol, marijuana, cocaine and drugs of like quality may be a federal offence punishable with a jail sentence of several years in Pakistan it is not difficult to acquire the intoxicants. If you happen to pass by a wine shop in Karachi, which can officially only sell its products to non-Muslim members of the community, you may notice members of ...

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Heera Mandi: Scarlet secrets of Lahore

There is a bazaar in Taxali Gate called Heera Mandi. A few decades ago this place was famous for dancing and music. People used to go here for a visual and musical treat. Beautiful girls (kanjiries) used to sit in stall shaped balconies, called kothas, and ply their trade, the oldest profession in the world. The place was perhaps even more famous for singing and dancing. However, slowly the aesthetic pursuit became less arty and more tarty. The area became the centre of prostitution in Lahore. Most people have the misconception that the Diamond Market got its because of the beautiful girls who worked ...

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The quintessential wedding dancer!

If you have family and friends (even enemies) living abroad, now will be the perfect time for them to make their annual pilgrimage to the Islamic Republic of Pakistan and kill your vacation. It requires a gut made of steel to say “Oooh-how-lovely-to see-you” to the sudden lover of the Pak watan when all you want to do is mutter “I-hate-you, b$%&*”on repeat. It is always this time of the year, which makes coming back to the desiland for our wannabe firangis, fun (they’ll never admit to this). There are rivers of mango juice, which flow with sweet sweet golden ...

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