or: How to Brew History
BY AYESHAM KHAN
Frequented by artists, writers and thinkers, the Pak Tea House was the birthplace of a golden age: an anti-imperialist, anti-feudal, literary tradition in urdu. This tradition was manifested in the likes of Manto, whose irreverent depictions of prostitution and similar societal ills earned him a place as one of Pakistan’s most revered writers. There was, of course, Faiz Ahmed Faiz, a socialist whose loyalty to the cause landed him an exclusive, marxists-only invite to the Soviet Union. And then there was Ismat Chughtai, who depicted homosexuality in her short story “Lihaaf”, and consequently found herself the subject of many court orders citing vulgarity.
But the Pak Tea House was more than just a cafe: an ecosystem that fed a community of imaginative minds. As the fog of history descended, the place was almost shut down two decades ago, meant to be converted into a place of business. Before the vultures of capitalism could descend for the feasting, a decade-long attempt at saving the place succeeded in having its upkeep commissioned by the Nawaz Sharif government. It has been close to collapse countless times, and rarely mentioned in history books or pleasant conversation, making one wonder as to why we are not more protective of it. In Europe, the iconic Les Deux Magots, frequented by Simone de Beauvoir, Jean Paul Sartre, and even Picasso, has been preserved and marketed hawkishly by its patrons. Cafe culture provides a culture medium for history-even Benjamin Franklin’s Club of Honest Whigs would collect at the London Coffeehouse. But the question of heritage, and protecting it, begets another one: will sharing the story of the Tea House with the masses of Lahore be its revival, or demise?
The cafe culture of Lahore is marked along the lines of class: the rich shed banknotes in the posh teahouses of Gulberg and Defence, settling to gorge on lattes and molten lava cakes. The poor collect at dhabas and khokas for a light cup of doodh patti. The intelligentsia, the thinkers and magic-makers of today construct worlds in perfect english, worlds built with bricks of intersectional feminism and dialectical materialism. Recall what some see as the co-opting of coffeehouses by aesthetically ambitious teens, or the invasion of bookstores by those who aim to hover around the Communist Manifesto and then leave. So what do we do? Should we make the Pak Tea House an Instagram-worthy wonderland to rake in the money, and hence leaving it at the mercy of today’s cybercommunists and hashtag feminists? If not, do we risk it losing relevance, shutting down once more?
At the heart of the Pak Tea House dilemma is this: who inherits the history of yesterday in the form of chai and conversation? Who gets to pass down the torches lit by the magic-makers of yesterday, who weaved stories that were democratic? The new magic-makers will be lucky ones- who get to carve out the once-revolutionary path of a cafe simmering with potential, who, if they do their job, get to brew history-flavored glory, turn coffee into the elixir of thought, lending the drinker an imagination so daring they can change the course of time.
AUTHOR BIO
Ayesham Khan is a sophomore at Duke University majoring in International Comparative Studies and Visual Art. A native of Lahore, Pakistan, she spends her time writing, creating and exploring urban spaces.