Ever since I became a party-going adult (which was not too long ago), I’ve spent New Year’s Eve in Lahore. Now, in the past, New Year’s Eve has consistently been a bust. As a teenager, I’d always end up at random commercial parties (you know, the kind where all the weird uncles go because the entire city is invited) simply because I was too young to know anyone my age who was capable enough to host a decent event. During college, things weren’t very different, as my world was in Massachusetts and I really didn’t care to keep up with the Lahori scene. Every year, someone would remind me to keep my expectations low for New Year’s Eve so that I would actually have a good night. That’s garbage advice, by the way. Historically, my expectations for New Year’s Eve have always been way low and my nights have sucked regardless. This year, however, things were different.
Okay, so yes, I did end up at one commercial party (it’s like a tradition now, so I’m just going to accept it). What exactly is a commercial party, you ask, apart from the fact that it’s populated with weird uncles? Well, a commercial party isn’t really commercial per se (gone are the days when people would sell passes to make some money and appear exclusive at the same time). No, nowadays, a commercial party is all about the guest list. In fact, if it takes the guy at the gate more than five minutes to find your name because he has to scroll through more than twenty pages, do yourself a favour and leave. Another cool fact about the commercial party is that it’s always hosted by someone you’ve heard of but never actually met in real life (and it’s almost always someone from the fashion industry). This year, I actually ended up at a ball, along with a gang of conservative housewives and their (very weird) husbands, and a bunch of teenagers in short dresses and loud make-up. On the plus side, the food was pretty good and nobody could tell I was there because the whole place was lit up with the ever-so-classic red beams of light. Thank God my crew and I were old enough to gracefully exit the room after downing a few prawn cocktails.
WhatsApp conversation between Zara, Anam, and Sanam, at 11:59 PM on the 31st of December, 2016.
Anam: You guys! It’s almost midnight.
Sanam: Why are you WhatsApping us? We’re sitting right next to you.
Anam: We’re in a Careem. I don’t want the driver to know what were up to. These days, all the drivers can speak English.
Sanam: You know, it’s pathetic that we always end up in transit at the stroke of midnight on New Years Eve.
Zara: lol Happy New Year!
Anam: Happy New Year!
Sanam: Happy New Year!
Zara: My resolution this year is to make a ton of money.
Sanam: My resolution this year is to finally get pregnant and have a baby.
Anam: My resolution this year is to not end up in a Careem at midnight on the next New Years Eve.
After exiting the horrendous ball and eating enough to carry us through the night, my girls and I were ready to get trashed in a chilled out somewhat decent environment. Much to my surprise, we got lucky and ended up an intimate house party somewhere in DHA (I say intimate because there were less than 200 people there at any given point). As I made my way through the crowd, I encountered friends from my past who I actually liked. Plus, Aly the Bartender wasn’t invited, which meant that the guy at the bar didn’t recognise me and I could shamelessly drink the whole night without worrying about my social graces (you’d be surprised how awkward it gets when the bartender knows your drinking history). And after all was said and done, I swear I think I saw Fayes T Kantawala somewhere in the crowd. Now, I can’t be sure, because I’m not familiar with his real identity, but I have my suspicions regardless. Anyway, I ended the night with Pizza Hut and a sleepover with my girls, feeling optimistic about the year ahead.
WhatsApp conversation between Zara, Anam, and Sanam, at 3:59 AM on the 1st of January, 2017.
Anam: I can’t believe we are taking a Careem at this time. Is this even safe?
Sanam: Relax! We’re all together.
Zara: Anyway, it’s been a tough year. I’m so glad it’s over.
Anam: There were a lot of bad moments, but the election of Trump was by far the worst.
Zara: No way! The death of David Bowie was the worst. Labyrinth is like my favorite movie ever.
Sanam: You guys are wrong. Losing Junaid Jamshed was the worst part of the year. He taught me this prayer on TV and look: I’m the only married in our group.
Zara C. Churri lives in Lahore
Okay, so yes, I did end up at one commercial party (it’s like a tradition now, so I’m just going to accept it). What exactly is a commercial party, you ask, apart from the fact that it’s populated with weird uncles? Well, a commercial party isn’t really commercial per se (gone are the days when people would sell passes to make some money and appear exclusive at the same time). No, nowadays, a commercial party is all about the guest list. In fact, if it takes the guy at the gate more than five minutes to find your name because he has to scroll through more than twenty pages, do yourself a favour and leave. Another cool fact about the commercial party is that it’s always hosted by someone you’ve heard of but never actually met in real life (and it’s almost always someone from the fashion industry). This year, I actually ended up at a ball, along with a gang of conservative housewives and their (very weird) husbands, and a bunch of teenagers in short dresses and loud make-up. On the plus side, the food was pretty good and nobody could tell I was there because the whole place was lit up with the ever-so-classic red beams of light. Thank God my crew and I were old enough to gracefully exit the room after downing a few prawn cocktails.
***
WhatsApp conversation between Zara, Anam, and Sanam, at 11:59 PM on the 31st of December, 2016.
Anam: You guys! It’s almost midnight.
Sanam: Why are you WhatsApping us? We’re sitting right next to you.
Anam: We’re in a Careem. I don’t want the driver to know what were up to. These days, all the drivers can speak English.
Sanam: You know, it’s pathetic that we always end up in transit at the stroke of midnight on New Years Eve.
Zara: lol Happy New Year!
Anam: Happy New Year!
Sanam: Happy New Year!
Zara: My resolution this year is to make a ton of money.
Sanam: My resolution this year is to finally get pregnant and have a baby.
Anam: My resolution this year is to not end up in a Careem at midnight on the next New Years Eve.
***
After exiting the horrendous ball and eating enough to carry us through the night, my girls and I were ready to get trashed in a chilled out somewhat decent environment. Much to my surprise, we got lucky and ended up an intimate house party somewhere in DHA (I say intimate because there were less than 200 people there at any given point). As I made my way through the crowd, I encountered friends from my past who I actually liked. Plus, Aly the Bartender wasn’t invited, which meant that the guy at the bar didn’t recognise me and I could shamelessly drink the whole night without worrying about my social graces (you’d be surprised how awkward it gets when the bartender knows your drinking history). And after all was said and done, I swear I think I saw Fayes T Kantawala somewhere in the crowd. Now, I can’t be sure, because I’m not familiar with his real identity, but I have my suspicions regardless. Anyway, I ended the night with Pizza Hut and a sleepover with my girls, feeling optimistic about the year ahead.
***
WhatsApp conversation between Zara, Anam, and Sanam, at 3:59 AM on the 1st of January, 2017.
Anam: I can’t believe we are taking a Careem at this time. Is this even safe?
Sanam: Relax! We’re all together.
Zara: Anyway, it’s been a tough year. I’m so glad it’s over.
Anam: There were a lot of bad moments, but the election of Trump was by far the worst.
Zara: No way! The death of David Bowie was the worst. Labyrinth is like my favorite movie ever.
Sanam: You guys are wrong. Losing Junaid Jamshed was the worst part of the year. He taught me this prayer on TV and look: I’m the only married in our group.
Zara C. Churri lives in Lahore