Asim just wanted a nice romantic dinner with his wife. It was their ninth wedding anniversary and a new Japanese restaurant had opened in the Diplomatic Enclave. Run by a former Marriott chef Terry, whom Asim knew well, Kampai was where the couple wanted to wine and dine. Chef Terry insists on reservations for the weekends, so Asim made his. And to make sure the evening would not run afoul of security personnel, he asked the chef and owner what kind of numbers he had to provide to get in.

Asim is no stranger to the Diplomatic Enclave and knew that a cheery smile and nice suit wouldn’t get him past the men in uniform manning the gates. In fact, he called Terry in the morning and then just before the couple arrived at the entrance to the enclave just to make sure his name and car number would be with the security personnel.  Each time Terry assured him it would not be a problem.

But something was amiss. Perhaps Terry became too involved in rolling sushi, perhaps Asim was not memorable enough. In any case, the guards would not let the happy couple through and insisted they had not been given Asim’s particulars.

Asim chafed and seethed and called up Terry who sent his guy. More arguing later, Terry’s guy shrugged and said: Perhaps sir would like his meal to go? Asim lost his cool and called the Japanese chef to tell him off, embellishing his rant with a cuss word or two; the Japanese then inveighed against Pakistanis. Tart words were exchanged in the heat of the moment. But that is not where they remained.

Although Asim and his wife huffed off to the Marriott for their sashimi (the Marriott may now be a fortress, but at least its ramparts are open to those who can afford it), he decided to take the battle to a new level. He talked to his friends, he talked to one of the president’s secretaries, he enshrined the showdown in his own Facebook group. For Asim, it was a question of not being free in his own country: when the green passport gets you X-rays instead of XOes in foreign lands, at least one should have the right to live with dignity and respect in one’s own country.

An argument could be made here that Malik Asim Mansur is miffed because his elitist gate pass no longer applies everywhere. That is the hard reality of the unwashed masses who have had to endure pat-downs, questioning, and suspicion at security checkpoints, among other indignities for a while now. Asim responds that another friend went to the At Home Chinese restaurant in F-8 with his family and was similarly turned away because Pakistanis were not allowed. At Home has since shut shop, but the insult remains. Asim argues that restaurants are not clubs, nor do they require a passport.

This is a food blog, and while I could wax lyrical about tender slivers of raw fish and crispy vegetable tempura, the circumstances in which food is eaten reflects social mores. Take the American South in the 1950s when blacks could not be served at white restaurants; colonial India, when ‘Dogs and Indians were not allowed’ in British clubs; or even present-day Pakistan where meals and tables are not be shared with the servants.

Indeed, dinner at Kampai - even if it was located smack in the middle of Saddar, Rawalpindi – would still segregate. Can taxi-driver Mohammad Hussein from Gujranwala afford a Rs. 3,000 dinner (it is another matter that taxi-driver Mohammad Hussein would prefer his fish slathered in masala, deep-fried, and served with a side of tart chutney thank you very much). The price itself is exclusionary to say nothing of bad-ass bouncers at the front door.

The story also strikes at the heart of our anxiety and paranoia as a nation. We are deeply afraid our country will be invaded or overrun by foreigners, a fear encapsulated in one word: Blackwater. Strangely, the prevailing xenophobia extends to white foreigners. Foreign militants, on the other hand, can party all they like as Imran Khan once said in a TV interview. Never mind that Pakistan has an assorted chocolate box of them – Uzbeks, Chinese, and Arabs among many others.

Ah, but I need to remind myself that this is a food blog, and no amount of culinary metaphors will disguise a rant against the state of the nation’s psyche. Asim is right – Pakistan is our territory and we have the right to eat wherever we want, go wherever we want. Sajji in Dera Bugti anyone?