Fahad, Qaiser and I had always been like peas in a pod. Brought up in the same neighborhood, we climbed every step on the ladder of life together from childhood to youth—from the first bruise in the playground to that first kiss with the girl of his dreams, from learning how to hold a pen to knowing how to perform tricks on motorcycles.

But even though we were good friends, the three of us had remarkably distinctive personalities. Qaiser was the nerd of the group. He always excelled in academics. Fahad was a sensitive soul, easily touched by the pains of troubled people. He was also very much in tune with the more romantic things in life such as “true love”. He did find it in his cousin and got engaged to her in no time. I was the mischievous one, always in some sort of trouble. I was the typical angry teenager. My daring personality, brawny physique and flirtatious nature helped me inch my way to the hearts of many girls.

My conservative Pakistani parents would have surely disapproved of my dating many girls. So I obviously couldn’t ask them for money for my dates. I had to borrow money to meet my expenses. As a way of earning money to repay the debts, I started playing poker, but my poor gambling skills only drowned me further into a sea of debt.  My poker friends also influenced me to start smoking, which only gave me one more reason to spend more money. Though Fahad and Qaiser didn’t accompany me regularly in my undesirable activities, they sometimes joined me for a few poker games and a couple of cigarettes.

I knew right from the start that my debts would soon be too much for me to handle, but I just kept ignoring it. The problem turned serious when one of my lenders threatened to approach my parents. This made me anxious more than anything. I knew I had to come up with a solution as quickly as possible.

Two nights later, while Fahad and Qaiser were sitting outside under the streetlights, I approached them quietly and took out a “desi” (locally made) revolver from my pocket. Both of them were completely perplexed. I told them about the deep financial mess I was in and the only solution I could think of—snatch a couple of mobile phones so we could sell them and make money.

As expected, they refused to take part in my plan. But I had already thought of this conversation so many times before. Right away, I played on their weaknesses. I told Fahad how he could purchase a lavish gift for his bride-to-be on her upcoming birthday. I also reminded Qaiser about his much-coveted Sony laptop. Belonging to average families, these things were beyond the financial range of our parents. The temptations were enticing enough to convince them into becoming my accomplices.

The next few nights saw us searching for the right streets where we could carry out our ignoble activities. Of course we went out at late hours, when the roads had very few people. On the night we committed our first crime, we snatched two cellular phones from two teenagers riding on their motorbikes. Our method was simple. One of us would make the drivers stop by asking for help. Once distracted, the other two of us would surprise the unfortunate beings and rob them of their belongings at gunpoint. Then, we would instantly ride off on our bikes, along with the keys of our victims’ motorbikes so that they couldn’t follow. This strategy bore fruitful results and we managed to make about 70,000 rupees in just a fortnight. This amount was more than enough to give us what we needed, but greed tempted us to commit one last robbery.

I remember it was raining that night. Streaks of thunder illuminated the vacant roads every few minutes. We were waiting in ambush around the corner when we heard a motorcycle roaring towards us. We followed our usual way of doing things, grabbed what we intended to steal, and jumped on our bikes to run away. Fahad was alone on his bike, while I was sitting behind Qaiser on his motorcycle. The roads were slippery that night. We suddenly lost our balance and toppled over, a few yards away from the robbery spot. The robbed guy rushed towards us to catch us. We were unarmed as Fahad had the revolver. Being the teenage kids that we were, we were unprepared for a situation like this. We panicked immediately. In fright, Fahad fired the revolver in the air to make the robbed man run away. However, this only attracted attention and soon, we were besieged by an angry mob. It wasn’t long before we heard the siren of a police car. I was too dizzy to remember what happened to my friends, but I can vaguely recall the excruciating pain that shot through my right cheek when one of the police officers slapped my face. Soon, all three of us found ourselves behind bars. 

Everything happened so quickly. Our parents were summoned to get the greatest shock and humiliation of their lives. I had never seen my father so ashamed.

Parents always have a magic wand which they sway in the air and every problem of their child is resolved. But our misfortune was the bad timing of our arrest. We were caught on Saturday and Eid holidays were to begin on Monday. This meant that courts wouldn’t be open until Thursday. With harsh allegations and several witnesses ready to testify against us, things did not look bright at all. If we were proven guilty, we could be sentenced to three years imprisonment.

This was the first time we ever found ourselves inside a police station. Trust me; life in jail is not like the romanticized version you see in the movies. The living conditions are most demeaning.

As soon as our parents left, two prison guards entered our cell. Six feet tall, heavy and foul-smelling, they were terrible to look at. Their bloodshot eyes sent unpleasant shivers down our spines. Without saying a word, they started persecuting us. They slapped us, beat us with belts and abused us severely to make us admit all our robberies. Unable to bear the pain, we signed on the stamped paper, admitting to all our robberies.

On our second night in jail, after the lights were dimmed and most of the officers had left the police station, the two grotesque prison guards entered our cell once again. We realized that they were heavily drugged and had no control over themselves. As soon as they came in, they started beating Fahad ruthlessly. His nose began to bleed. He lost his balance and fell to the ground. Qaiser couldn’t tolerate this inhumane treatment and pushed one of them away from Fahad to save him. This annoyed the two jailers and they dragged Qaiser into a corner. Qaiser tried to resist, but they were too strong for him. One of the jailers clasped his head between his thighs and the other jailer took off his pants and abused him sexually. He tried desperately to free himself, but he couldn’t get out of their hold. He begged us for help but we were too horrified by the scene before us that we couldn’t move a limb. Half an hour later, they threw him on the floor and went away. He remained lying on the floor, paralyzed. When I approached him to comfort him, he pushed me away and shouted, “I hate you! You coward dogs!”

Those five days we spent in jail were the most agonizing time of our lives. Danger seemed to lurk everywhere. The washrooms had no boundaries. The food was sickening. The cells were filled with nauseating odors. We were tortured repeatedly for no apparent reason. It turned out that the head officer of that police station was plotting to strike a deal with our parents. He was asking blatantly for 3 million rupees in exchange for our unlawful release. By tormenting us, he was trying to put extra pressure on our parents. Our parents had no choice but to yield to his unreasonable demands. They bribed him with a fortune to get us released.  My father had to give away his lifelong savings, which he was planning on using to buy our family a new car.

We were soon to discover that being released from prison was not the end of our punishment. In a small city like Faisalabad where we belong, news spread like wildfire. All of our family members, neighbors, friends and acquaintances found out about our humiliating deeds. An irremovable social stain had been imprinted on our character.

The second blow came when Fahad’s future in-laws broke his engagement with their daughter. This setback shattered him to the core. After longing for her so much, he lost her. After that, he became a hermit. I remember not seeing him for months after his engagement ended.

The next surprise was the enrollment of Qaiser in an Australian college. His parents believed Fahad and I were bad influences on him, so he was moved just a week later to Australia. With that, the threads of friendship broke as our group was torn apart.

Fahad’s behavior at his ex-girlfriend’s wedding burned my soul. I couldn’t tolerate it so I left the marriage hall to cry in solitude. Sometimes, a single decision changes the very course of one’s life; a single mistake results in an everlasting social stigma.

I never got in touch with Qaiser again since he moved to Australia. I heard he had become paranoid and suffers from screaming fits in the night.

Fahad is still trying to recover from everything. His sensitive soul has been deeply affected by all these sad happenings and he is now receiving psychological treatment.

I am now a complete loner. No one is friends with me; rather, no one wants to. I wish to move out of this city, but for that I would need money to be able to support myself. My education is not yet sufficient for me to get a good job. I left the college where I was mocked and taunted beyond my tolerance level.

All of us are still trying to make a new start. With time, our wounds will heal, but the social stigma will haunt our memories forever.