Fresh Fruit Juice

Eating a meal in Pakistan is a community affair. People seldom eat meals alone, and prefer to surround themselves with friends and family instead. Another popular dining phenomena in Pakistan is the proliferation of drive-in restaurants. Not to be mistaken with drive-thru restaurants, drive-in is when you park your car in an empty lot (who’s ownership is vague and best ignored) and receive a meal in your car. It most resembles Sonic, the fast-food chain in the USA. Drive-thru restaurants add a new dimension to dining as a community affair. As you will soon realize if you choose one of the many drive-in options, the people in your vehicle aren’t the only ones invited: street hawkers, beggars, waiters from rival restaurants and cigarette sellers also RSVP’d to your meal. This makes what is already a clumsy arrangement (dining in your car) practically impractical as you are forced to juggle between your wallet, plate of food and soft drink every time a guest comes by your car. And it doesn’t help that the agreed upon universal symbol for “No thank you, move along” seems to be an open-palm held against the forehead in apology.

Despite these challenges, the citizens of Pakistan have learned to cope. Unfortunately, they cope by adopting a callous attitude towards each needy person that approaches them, ignoring any unique individual circumstances that may define them. I was party to this for a long time.

It was a torrid Tuesday when my group of friends and I decided to go to the local fresh juice spot. I noticed the middle-aged man with a staid expression sitting against the stall as we parked our car. We ordered our juices and began swatting away the poor souls who approached our car for a much-needed drink. Halfway through my orange juice, I noticed the man was still sitting empty handed. He stood out because his proximity to the kitchen made it look like he has some business with the place, but his empty hands denied the possibility of him being a customer. My attention was broken by an old woman with her infant asking for blessings at my window. I waved her off and took a thirsty sip of my juice.

We paid our dues and were ready to be on our way. I looked over in the direction of the man and saw a waiter carrying 7 or 8 cups of juice towards him. “He finally got service” I thought. The street hawkers and beggars noticed too, as I saw them suddenly throng towards him. “Oh brother” I thought. I was surprised when he raised his hand towards them, not to make an empty pardon, but rather to hand them each a chilled cup of juice. His behavior was intriguing so I asked my friend to drive by him. As we parked next to him I leaned out of the window and asked “Do you own this shop?” 

His response was one that will stick with me forever. He simply tilted his head down, raised his hand in an open-palm and held it against his forehead. He had no interest in the rich-kid in his dad’s car that wouldn’t pay attention to a needy human being. “No thank you, move along” was his response.