There is no wine, there are not many women on the streets, and the song of Pakistan is blowing in the wind. At Lahore airport, a custom's official lingers over a passenger's bottle of whisky. "And what," he says, "is this?" Drawing the bottle carefully out of its carton, he turns it over in his hand. The passenger looks uncomfortable and protests: he is Indian not Pakistani. After a stern passport check, the officer offers apologies and explains: "You see, you spoke Urdu just like us." But his eyes continue to hover over the elusive liquor.