Bistro Hotel

“We’re here!” Rayan says in his cheerful voice.

It's already 6:30, the sky has turned dark and most of the streetlamps are out and the winter wind in Karachi gives me chills. Rayan had parked the car a little left to the main gate and in one swipe motion everyone was out of the car and heading for the entrance. A little name plate by the gate, which was half rusted, read “Bistro H.” This made it clear we were in the right place.

“You guys sure you want to do this,” Rida asked again, “I keep getting this feeling something is off with this place.”

“Rida stop being such a darpok (scaredy cat), yaar, it’s just an old building,” Hafsa said in that annoying tone of hers that clearly suggested she didn’t want any of us here except for Arib.

Even in the semi-dark state we were in, I could feel her roll her eyes at us. Hafsa had a little crush on Arib which he was oblivious about. He never noticed her and so she tried harder to get his attention.

She quietly skipped towards Arib and latched onto his arm, Arya and Rayan joined Rida while I stayed a little further at the back. I tend to not participate in their bickering, it’s more fun to let it all playout on its own. Arib took the lead as he always did in these adventures. Since graduating from university, a year ago they all planned at least one adventure a month, which just meant doing something the others would not want to do. This month it was Hafsa’s turn, and she picked this. Not because the rest of them didn’t want to do this but just to impress Arib.

Arib’s always been a horror, haunted house loving junkie and Hafsa’s trying to impress him. Rayan went along with everything, to him an adventure is an adventure and he’s ready to try anything new. Which is why he jumped right into the plan without even listening to the plan entirely. Arya is the nicer one of the group, comforting and understanding. While Hafsa is arrogant and rude, Rida matched her energy by being sarcastic at times. Arya and Rida were the only ones who protested against coming here with probable reason of course. They protested but it was a minority against the majority, and you know majority rules, so the protests went unheard.

We neared the main gate of the building, and it became evident that it’s been out of use for decades. The weeds in the lawn were overgrown, some of the windows near the door were either broken or boarded up and the air was filled with a kind of stuffed molded wood smell. The wind made a whistling sound as we walked up the steps only to be greeted by a huge lock on the door handle.

“There should be another way in,” Hafsa points out.

We divide into two groups, Hafsa, Rida and Arib going one way and the rest of us the other. The hotel was big enough that it took us about 10 minutes of searching to find a back door. Rayan sent a message on our WhatsApp groups to inform Arib, Rida and Hafsa. And they were able to find us a few minutes later. The back door wasn’t just unlocked it was swinging in and out with the wind. Arib took the lead again and was the first to enter the hotel. The rest of us followed suit.

I had my hand tightly folded over my shawl. Everyone had turned on our phone flashlights and were navigating through the back room. We passed smaller rooms that looked like servant quarters. The old wallpaper was piling off and there was much in there except for a bed frame and some overturned chairs. We moved along checking out more rooms, Arya was taking pictures of each room we crossed.

“Did you guys know there used to be a tunnel system under this place, you know for smuggling people and like gold in and out of here,” Hafsa spoke, “And that the third floor is haunted by the ghost of one of the singers that used to perform here during parties.” She looked back at us with all smiles thinking either of us would comment but when we didn’t, she began talking again.

“My baba, I told him I was working on a passion project about this hotel, so he found this guy who was like 80 or 90 and used to work here. He told me all kinds of stories…”

“Like what?” Rayan asked enthusiastically.

“Like a few years after the partition this woman came here to get a job as a cleaner, she wasn’t pretty or beautiful and was in her twenties and one day the owner heard her singing while she cleaned. He hired her as a singer right there and then. And then she became a really popular singer. People from all over the world came to hear her sing…”

“Is she the ghost you told us about earlier?” Arya interpreted her but her voice was low enough that it was more of a whisper than anything.

“Uhh… yeah, Arya it's that woman. And stop interpreting me. So where was I…”

“People came from all over the world to hear her sing.” Arib said.

“Yeah, people came and one of them was really into making her a worldwide singer but the day she was going to accept it and sign a contract she was found dead on the third floor with a knife in her stomach. And since then, she haunts the third floor.”

“But I heard that she ran away before she could sign the contract, I read other rumors online too, like she committed suicide, had an affair with the owner’s son and one rumor even said she went abroad and never returned,” Rida said in a slight sarcastic tone.

“Well, my source is credible unlike the internet,” Hafsa snaps back.

“Yes that 80–90-year-old man who is already too old to be considered dependable,” Rida retorts.

Arya pulls at Rida’s sleeve to, asking her to stop. Rida and Hafsa stop in the middle of the corridor, Hafsa nostrils flaring with angry and Rida adding fuel by giving her a smile.

“Hey, stop it. Both of you, we’re here to explore not fight over who’s source is more credible,” Arib breaks them up and we start walking again.

We were at the stairs by the time either of them cooled off. Honestly all the rumors were just rumors but I knew the truth of what happened and I’m sure everyone will find out soon. We climbed up the stairs to the first floor and went on exploring the room again. These ones were a bit more luxurious, there was more space, bigger four poster beds, side tables and even fragments of velvet curtains. These ones had attached bathrooms of the pre-partition English style. Everyone broke off into pairs taking one room each. Rayan and I went directly opposite to the others. While he marveled at a room fit for a politician of that time I moved further away. I walked further into the dark corridor until I was sure I found a room which wasn’t just a guest room.

This room was large enough to be the famous ball room, where the rich and influential had their lavish parties. There was just enough light from the broken window to luminate a part of the room. I could see the large portraits that hung at each wall, politicians and famous actors all standing next to the owner of the hotel. Their big smiles and lively eyes tell a story of an opulent time. The room on the other hand told the story of abandonment and decay. The fanous (chandelier) cover in dust hung high up swinging just a little. The round high tables were missing some of their limbs and were pushed to the sides. The carpet, while a bright color decades ago, was now dull and murky. I moved over to a grand portrait of a woman, her deep brown skin still radiant, her eyes mixed on mine while mine tried to avoid hers.

I looked closer at the plaque below the portrait that read “Daneen Fatima ''. I was so captivated by the portrait that I didn't realize when I accidentally knocked over a candle stand which fell and the room filled with a loud “Thad” echo. Seconds later footsteps approached the room and with them came the light. The room was now better lit, and it became evident it was more spacious than I had thought. It occupied most of the right side of the first floor.

“Oh my God, this room is huge.” Hafsa exclaimed.

“This is the famous ball room!” Arib’s voice squealed with excitement.

“I think its creepy, people in the portrait their eyes are following us…” Arya pointed out and moved closer to Rida and Rayan. “And I have this feeling like… I think someone is watching…looking at us from corners.”

“It's the portraits, like you said they eyes follow us, that give that effect of being watched,” Arib dismissed Arya and went ahead exploring the room.

Hafsa and Arib were being a lot more annoying than usual, with being dismissive, and outright ignoring everyone’s concern. Their eyes were glued to the room. I left the room and went to the second floor, similar rooms with similar settings greeted me. So, I decided to climb up to the third floor. By now I could hear the rest of them coming up. I moved about from room to room. There were only 5 rooms up here. Each meant for an especially important individual, or anyone who could pay the hefty Rs.500 for a night in that room. An amount that was, at that time, could feed a household for months. I knew one room belonged to Daneen, while Hafsa had mentioned it I knew she stayed here for as long as she sang, she was given a room.

My memory might be hazy after all these years, and it took me three tries before I found the room. It had remained closed off after her death, so everything inside still remained in its place. The four-poster bed on the left side with matching side tables. Most of the velvet curtain still remained, a dresser nested between two bay windows, remnants of the cushions were still there, on the opposite side of the windows was a dust cover floor to ceiling mirror, rugs adorned the floors and a large wardrobe stood on the far-right side of the room. While I admired the room that longed for its glory days the rest of them had arrived on the third floor.

They were at the door of the room. They tried the knob, but it wouldn't move, years of rust had left its mark. The room was closed off. I could hear them kick the door, once and twice each time trying harder. They were able to push it a little but just a little, enough to see a small space inside. They couldn’t see me; they were never able to no matter how much I tried to let them know.

I walked closer to the door.

“Yaar, it won’t move,” Arib sounded frustrated.

“Yeah, I wanted to see the ghost of Daneen.” Hafsa said with a pout.

“Hafsa, shut up! For once. We shouldn’t be messing with this anyway,” Rida sounded angry,

I slipped an old yellow paper from under the door, it landed by Arib’s feet, and he picked it up.

‘Main hoon waha jaha sab ankhay tum hee ko dekhay”

(I’m there were all eyes look at you)

He read aloud.

“What does that mean,” Arya asked clinging on to Rida’s arm.

“It looks like it could a song lyric, if this is Daneen’s room maybe she was writing a song,” Arib said nonchalantly.

“Well, the door wouldn’t open any further, and I have to be home before my parents realize I took their car,” Rayan remined everyone.

“Yeah, it’s 11pm already, we can check out the room tomorrow,” Arib told them, but I knew he’d forget, they all forget.

They’ve been here once a month for the last 10 months and each time they came I gave them a little clue. And each time they were no closer than ever to finding my truth. I made noises by throwing things around, showing them my portrait, bringing them to my room and the room of the culprit but each time they left, they returned with no memory and had to start all over again.

Rida had begun sensing something was off by the 7^th time they returned but she couldn’t place it. She could see me, but I guess she had the watching feeling since I kept an eye on them. The rest either indulged in the mystery or just followed along. In the last year I have gotten to know them enough, but they still haven’t figured it out that I'm always watching them waiting for them to return, to find me, to find the real Daneen imprisoned in these walls.

They gave the paper a glance, racked their brains to find another reason for it but eventually left it and made their way out. I wait by my bay window as I see them get back in their car and leave. I know I will see them again like I have every month as they return here to explore just like clockwork.

It's farewell until next month.