We were greeted with drumbeats, garlands, and slogans at the entrance of the theater. There were shouts of 'Visa-free India and Pakistan' from the assembled crowd. on the stairs stood dozens of young people with gelled hair, carefully trimmed goatees, and baggy jeans.

Their hands flung back carelessly or pressed together casually in front of their chests looked rather empty without the cigarettes that would have completed the profile. The boys were lean with flat stomachs, bulging biceps rippling out of their branded tee shirts. The girls, many of them chewing gums, stared at us with amused eyes. They had no dupattas (a scarf or covering for the head and upper body worn by women).

It was our first evening in Lahore. We were a group of around seventeen Indians -- singers, writers, intellectuals, retired army generals, priests, and peace activists -- who had come to Pakistan to take part in a three-day seminar for a visa-free South Asia. We had crossed into the country the same afternoon and had only managed to refresh ourselves in a guest house situated in the Gulberg residential district of Lahore before being driven to this nearby auditorium to attend a play being organized in our honor.

A Snapshot from the Play - Sisters Reading Letters

Being Right and Polite

A grey-colored stone bust of Mr Muhammad Ali Jinnah, the man who divided India and created Pakistan, smiled at us in the lobby. Many of us Indians draped our rose garlands around the bust of this gentleman, one of the most controversial figures of the twentieth century. It was a politically correct act and the older people among the Pakistanis admiringly watched us from a distance. They then overwhelmed us with a renewed vigor of hugging and back-slapping.

Inside the Theater

The young people, so dripping with attitude, spoke to us in American accents while escorting us to our seats in the auditorium. Many Pakistanis waiting inside rose from their seats and started clapping as we embarrassedly fumbled our way in the artfully lit darkness of the hall. We blushed, smiled shyly, and shook hands with the people, still disbelieving to find ourselves in Pakistan, when the Urdu-speaking hostess called us to the stage for a group photograph to be taken.

After the formalities were performed and the two-minute welcome speeches recited, everyone settled down to watch the play.

Some Tender Moments

A young girl dressed in black jeans and a white shirt climbed up on the stage and introduced herself as Bakht Arif. She launched the evening by singing a Hindi devotional song which lamented the cruelty of men and wondered how human beings, children of the same God -- Ishwar and Allah being his other names -- could be capable of killing their fellow men by creating divides of religions and borders.