by David Dixon
Longlisted in the PureTravel Writing Competition 2023
Out of the shadows the motley crew of dropouts began to drift in and assemble outside the main concourse of Victoria Station. It was a-rainy November evening in 1978 and I was about to step aboard what was known as a ‘Magic Bus’ which would take me and my fellow passengers on the ‘hippie trail’ from London, to Delhi in India. The fare as I recall was £70, and the journey, (by a rather old and battered tourist coach) took 6 weeks. My travelling companions were mainly composed of student backpackers, hippies and those who professed to be on a quest of religious enlightenment. The things we all had in common though were, we were young, we were curious, and we all had a desire for travel and adventure.
Each night, along the way, we would stop at some dilapidated hotel come doss house, and then by morning continue onwards through Europe, across the Bosporus, into Turkey, Iran and into Afghanistan. By the time we got to Pakistan we had all become easy with one another and male and female alike were all dressed in Afghan clobber, like kaftans, baggy Indian style pyjama pants and beads. Towards the end of our trip, Just before entering India, we stopped for the night at a little backpacker’s hostel in Lahore, and as we queued up to pay our few dollars for the night’s accommodation, we all noticed, and were intrigued by, the poster behind the clerks desk which read, ‘You Are Invited to Sample the delights of Lahore’s one and only ‘Snake Restaurant.’ Come and enjoy this unique experience.’ Of course we couldn’t turn down an invitation like that, and so a group of us decided we would have our evening meal in the said restaurant.
After a wash and brush up, a contingent of us met up in reception and ordered a brace of taxis to take us to the door of the ‘Punjabi Snake Pit.’ There was much excited shrieks and giggles from the girls as we descended the few steps into the restaurant. The interior was dark, hot and humid and the atmosphere was infused with the pungent musky smell of snake. An audio tape was playing on a continuous loop, which sounded like some bloke plucking on a series of graduated bedsprings whilst his oppo knocked out a rhythm on a couple of upended saucepans.
Out of the gloom a waiter materialised who ushered us to a long table by the wall, which gave us an uninterrupted view of a bank of dimly lit glass tanks that held captive an array of twisting slithering reptiles.
A drinks menu was produced of which the drinks on offer were an eye opener in themselves. There was much hilarity as we read of Pit Viper Lager; Black Mamba Stout and Old Rattler Pale Ale. I contented myself with a bottle of King Cobra Beer and turning the page of the menu laughed out loud at the wine list which offered, Cleo’s Last Asp, Monty’s Jungle Juice and Snakes Kiss.
The main menu was a further source of merriment with Wolf and Rat Snake stew, Crispy Fried Goujons of Rock Python, Boa Constrictor Cutlets (skin on), Fillet of Banded Krait, Curried Saw Scale Viper, Snake Rissole Surprise and Chefs Snake of the Day. Or if you really wanted to push the boat out (serves six,) you could have a banquet of whole python stuffed with quail eggs, served on a bed of boiled rice and veggies.
We were in good party mood as we sent for carafes of house rice wine and ordered our main meals, I settled on Fillet of Banded Krait with Onion Baja Balls, which turned out to be quite tasty with the texture and look of chicken. More rice wine was called for and we all (especially the girls) began to get quite tipsy. There was much banter and innuendos expressed around ‘one eyed trouser snakes’ and the playing of ‘footsie’ under the table. Much mirth and humour was exchanged as the waiters bustled in and out of the kitchen area and it was by chance that I noticed one of the staff enter the dining room (could have been the chef) open one of the snake tank lids and drop in two live rats which were immediately pounced on by two Diamond Backed Cobras and swallowed whole. Towards the end of the evening I remember happening to look up into the rafters and although it was very dark up there, (and I was pretty well inebriated,) I thought I could make out the bulk of something large and scaly entwined around the beams.
The following day I was relating the tale of the evening’s exploits to our coach driver who was a seasoned hand on the hippie trail and was familiar with Lahore and the restaurant. It was a sobering thought when he told me the establishment backed onto one of Lahore’s municipal tips, and although the owners professed to have a snake farm in the country, they in fact procured their snakes, (mainly Rat and Wolf Snakes,)( and the rats they fed them on,) from the tip! He also mentioned there was a rumour that a large python had taken up residence in the trusses of the premises and lived on scraps of food from the kitchen rubbish bins and what had been kicked under the dining tables the previous evening!
Photo by Rani George on Unsplash
