Note: the following event took place in early November. For various reasons, I haven't made an entry since then.

"Tonight is Sufi Night,"Malek informed me and the other lodger, Matthew, that were staying at his guesthouse here in Lahore, Pakistan.

"Sufi Night?"I asked. "What is Sufi Night? Are you taking us to a movie or something?"

Malek gave me a serious look. "Sufi Night is very special here in Lahore. It is very important to our religion. You see the Sufis, you see Pakistan. And besides,"he smiled, his voice taking on the sing-song tilt that is typical of the Subcontinent, "The Sufis are very excited that they will be able to play for foreign guests. Come, come! They will not play until we arrive."

He hurdled us out of the guesthouse, into a rickshaw, and towards the enigmatic Sufi Night.

Sufi Night. Friday in the Islamic Republic of Pakistan is a day of rest. The stores are closed, no one goes to work, and people just chill out and relax. So Thursday night is like Saturday night in the West, just no bars.

But there is Sufi Night-the most happening place to be on a Thursday in Lahore. We pulled up at Baba Shasmar mosque; a 700-year-old mosque that was packed with people. The air was thick with the blue-grey smoke of cheris. Malek frowned and tried to fan away the ever-pervading smoke.

"People use this because they think it will bring them closer to God, but it is the drumming that truly brings one closer to God. The Sufis only need the drumming. This,"he coughed, "Is only for the observers." He pulled us through the crowds and motioned for us to sit in front. Normally, women aren't allowed to go to Sufi Night, but because I was a foreign guest, I was allowed to attend.

And so the drumming started. Thick, fast, beats that you could feel resonating through your spine and ribcage. The musicians were the Gongasain brothers, the most famous Sufi drummers in all of Pakistan, especially famous because one of the drummers is deaf yet is able to play because he has learned to hear through his stomach, sensing the vibrations and relying on eye contact from his brother as when to change beats. The drumming was amazing, and I had no idea that one of the drummers was deaf, until Malek told me the following day.

Hypnotic drumming, some of the men stood up, slowly turning themselves around in a circle. They began to spin around faster, round and round, their bodies becoming a blur, blurring into a movement that seemed physically impossible. I was transfixed.

"They do this to get closer to God," Malek smiled. "When they do this, they feel like they are in heaven."

And they spun like that, on and on, around and around, some of them for an hour straight, and then the drumming stopped and the spinning stopped and it was time for us to leave.

On the way back to the guesthouse, we stopped for mango ice-cream. That night I dreamt of roses. Matthew left for India the next day. After seeing the Sufis, there was nothing else for him to see in Pakistan.

This is the second week of Ramadan, the month of fasting for Muslims. From sunrise to sunset, muslims refrain from eating, smoking, and even drinking water. Needless to say, people aren't in the best of moods. I've been in this country now for three weeks, and am very tempted to go to the western city of Peshawar, but will leave that for a future time, a time that doesn't coincide with Ramadan.

Tomorrow I go to India.