Saj Gaye Ne Galiyaan Bazaar, Sohna Aya!

On a September afternoon, a faint beat crept in from the street, swelling until the procession reached right outside my house in a private residential area in Lahore—a rally of decorated cars, vans, rickshaws and CD-70s rattling behind a van with a strapped-on loudspeaker. I stepped outside to see a large group of madrassa children dressed in white walking alongside the vehicles. You could easily spot the VIP Qari Sahabs, garlanded with roses. They hugged each other the customary three times, loudly saying 'Eid Mubarak'. Children darted through the alleys, treating tabarruk like treasure and mapping routes, while shopkeepers shoved chilled juice boxes and packets of Nimko into eager hands, marking their contribution. Plastic bags of biryani, with two botis each, dangled on motorbike handles and haleem with naan in the hands of the riders as they lapped the streets. Occasional pit stops were in front of houses serving daighi haleem.

As the sun set, I made my way to Androon Lahore to witness the extensive celebrations and the traditional pahariyan. On the way near Masjid-e-Shuhada, behind curtain tents, I could see lights reaching for the sky and hear the familiar beats of naat. Stepping closer, I was greeted by vendors of popcorn, candy floss, ice creams and more; elaborate models of Gumbad-e-Khizra, mosques, Data Darbar and more entertained children. These pahariyaan were displayed on the periphery, and a screen displayed videos of naat as the loudspeakers played them. Families crowded the streets, drawn to the lights and sound.

Making my way to Delhi Gate, I saw the gate lined with green fairy lights and a glowing nalayen pak on top of it. Each corner of Androon told a different story. The tinsel, coupled with fairy and disco lights, formed shimmering ceilings; halwa puri was being distributed in one tight corner, while in another corner, people lined up on the windows to collect naan; children watched excitedly from the safety of jharokas above the chaos on the road, men sitting on their bikes and tharras watching the bustling crowd. A caravan of vehicles: cars, tractors, loaders and Vigos, all adorned in green, played naat as they moved towards the Lahore Fort.

Making my way out of the chaotic celebrations of Androon, I went to Riwaaz Garden, to the infamous house. Every year, this one house, which has become a landmark in its own right for 12 Rabi-ul-Awal, is adorned with LED screens, neon lights, signage, flags and lights. As I stood, front of it, the sounds faded into silence and I became one of many mesmerised members of the crowd. Not an inch of the house was left bare. Against the black sky, it blazed like a living shrine.

The city of Lahore celebrated the Prophet's (PBUH) 1500th birthday with elaborate decor, giving charity and food, participating in jaloos and playing naat on loudspeakers in the streets. There were some acts beyond the noise, in private, that I could not witness or capture: daroods recited on tasbeehs, nawafl prayed on mats inside homes, charities given silently and private resolutions.