(A certain university in the north of England, September 2004)

"I believe that I was to be number 97," the very handsome 18 year-old overseas student from Pakistan informed the history lecturer, who was assigned to be his adult mentor for the forthcoming three university terms. "Instead that privilege," he then commented, "went to a boy named Ijaz."

"I worked the number out from the date that I escaped from the man’s evil clutches," added the student, who came from a very impoverished rural background and whose studies in history were unusually subsidised by the Pakistani government. He had also started his school education very late. However, his inherent impressive intelligence and willingness to work very hard had enabled him to not only catch up with but also academically surpass all of his fellow pupils. His achievements, including his new almost perfect current proficiency in the English language, had then been rewarded with an overseas scholarship.

"I was only 13 at the time," the student advised, "and rather diminutive for my age, possibly because of previous poor diet. However, without being conceited, I nevertheless believe that I was very attractive to others, given the number of times men were tempted to have sex with me."

"I can only suggest," the student conjectured, "that I survived because, despite his by now extensive experience, on this occasion the man, luckily for me, somehow misjudged the amount of sedative he furtively mixed with the orange juice provided to me as refreshment. The drug was insufficient to keep me insensible throughout the horror of what he intended to inflict on me." The 18 year-old spoke with remarkable calm and eloquence, given his appalling experiences and the fact that English was relatively new to him and was not his native language. However, this latter skill only served to re-emphasise his abilities to learn quickly and well.

"I actually regained my full senses," the student related, "in response to a pain in my groin. I opened my eyes to find the man naked and kneeling between my splayed legs. I then looked down to confirm what I somehow already suspected. I was now also completely nude, whereas I was previously dressed in rather tatty sandals and shorts. There was also a noticeable pain in my bottom."

"The man," the student continued, "had my flaccid penis in his left hand, which he had pulled painfully upwards, presumably to gain better access to my boyish scrotum, against the base of which his sharp knife was already resting."

(Lahore, Pakistan, 1998)

Javed Iqbal lured two destitute runaway young male teenagers to his residence. In a country of 144 million people, in which a third of the population live below the poverty line and almost 50% of children suffer from malnutrition and dietary defects, there are many such youngsters. In fact, boys fleeing home to seek better fortunes elsewhere are estimated to number about 10,000 per year, some as young as 6, and they join the many orphans already present on the streets.

Javed Iqbal had, as usual in such circumstances, then raped the boys. He knew that any complaints about his action from such homeless children would go unheeded, especially as he still had some important friends in the police force, who might be susceptible to his blackmail.

When Javed Iqbal had once been much more prosperous, as a result of inherited wealth, he had owned a large mansion, whose privacy was protected by high walls. He had often lavishly entertained policemen in this home, where he employed several live-in boy servants.

Many Pakistani men openly employ boy servants, most of destitute backgrounds, who come very cheaply, often just for the cost of food and shelter. Such employment is, of course, completely illegal, given the laws against child labour. However, such legislation is also totally ignored and never enforced.

For example, there are additionally many thousands of factory sweatshops throughout the country with illegal child workforces, whose hours are very long and who are remunerated for their exhausting efforts with miserly pittances. It is estimated that over 100,000 youngsters act as virtual slaves in such establishments.

To help entertain his police friends, Javed Iqbal would supplement the residential boys with others temporarily recruited from the streets. Given that prevailing religious and social attitudes demonise any males who try to enjoy intimacy with any females other than their properly married wives, men were usually happy to follow long-established cultural custom by supplementing their sex lives by taking youngsters of their own gender to bed.

Despite Islamic religious proscription, discreet pederasty and associated sodomy of the boys involved are not only hypocritically tolerated and followed with impunity but also rife throughout Pakistan and neighbouring Afghanistan. The practice is even boosted by the belief that such relationships are a matter of pride and a symbol of social status for the men involved.

Javed Iqbal filmed many of his social soirees. In some scenes, uniformed policemen can be observed helping themselves to their host’s lavish buffet, whilst boys in shorts sit nearby, waiting to be picked to service one of the officers. Some of the eventually selected youngsters were later forced to stand next to the men who would soon molest them, whilst the adults discussed the merits of the chosen young ones.

Javed Iqbal and occasionally some policemen can be observed in the videos lifting up the invariably pretty faces of the chosen boys to aid discussion of their particular features, as if they were buying animals at market. In other scenes, scantily clad or completely naked youngsters can be seen frolicking in the small pool located in the cellar of their employer’s residence, which was viewable from above by adult voyeurs by virtue of a rectangular opening in the ground floor, protected by rails. Alternatively, some watery shots were obtained outside, where there was another similar swimming facility, which possessed a slide.

Javed Iqbal frequently liked to see his boys at play before choosing one or more for his own bed. His sexual preferences had caused him to be twice divorced, the marriages nevertheless producing two sons of his own. His tastes had also tempted him to neglect his business affairs, whilst continuing to spend extravagantly.

The increasingly impecunious Javed Iqbal was eventually forced to sell his luxurious home and move to much less salubrious accommodation. Subsequent public accusations levelled against him of molesting some boys caused him to be ostracised by his family, who nevertheless bribed the authorities not to press charges, and neighbours, as well as to lose many of his police friends. He was also forced to flee to the obscurity of a new home amidst the slums of Lahore, which was stark evidence of the decline in his status.

Javed Iqbal’s mother, whom he adored, then suddenly died of a heart attack, which was undoubtedly at least partly caused by her favourite son becoming a social pariah. The man subsequently fatefully began to blame boys for all of his troubles and his original love for such young males gradually became acute murderous animosity after he again raped the latest pair lured to his home.

This time, the elder of the boys took revenge for being raped by attacking Javed Iqbal. As a result, the rapist’s head was severely wounded.

After eventually recovering from this injury, during which period of recuperation Javed Iqbal’s financial position became even more strained, he determined to extract his own retribution. However, his revenge was not to be aimed against the individual boy who had attacked him.

Javed Iqbal instead wanted to obtain retribution against beautiful boys in general and so he set a target of raping, emasculating and killing precisely 100 of them, after which he proposed to let the world know what he had done.

(A certain university in the north of England, September 2004)

The student continued to appraise his new university mentor about his earlier life, which now entailed his first-ever visit to a city.

(Lahore, Pakistan, November 1999)

"I had recently arrived in Lahore, which was the closest big city to my home village. I had walked the long distance to the nearest main road before then hitching lifts, mainly from buses and lorries, in order to reach my distant destination."

"I was at first innocently amazed and excited at what I saw in the bustling streets of Lahore, where over seven million people live. Despite owning no possessions except my grubby clothing and having no skills suitable for an urban environment, for I had only previously performed farm-work, I was initially naively optimistic that I could prosper."

"Despite being hungry, I wandered the city streets for a while, taking in the many exotic sights and smells that were of a type never seen in my small and remote rural village. I then went to the spectacular Mina-i-Pakistan shrine, which is a monument to the struggles of the Muslims against the Hindus, where I knew that food was given to the poor on a daily basis. I was very grateful to be given my own ration, although I had to queue for a long time with many other boys in the shadow of a towering minaret until I was provided with such sustenance."

"Discipline in the queue was maintained by adult shrine volunteers holding canes. However, I was thankful for their presence because otherwise I’m sure that I would have been bullied out of my place in the line."

"My shyness prevented me from talking to any of the other boys as I queued. However, a sense of being alone, destitute and unprotected, and therefore highly vulnerable, in the vast metropolis had not yet caught hold of me. My early false optimism about my prospects in the city instead increased when I was awarded the food for which I had been patiently and silently waiting. All I now believed was needed for success was a job and roof over my head and even these requirements were apparently quickly met, encouraging me to think that Lahore’s streets must truly be blessed."

"A kindly-looking, bearded, largely white-haired man in his mid-40s, who wore glasses, approached me as I ate my food and whilst I sat with my back against a tree in a pleasant garden near to the shrine. The location shaded me from the hot overhead sun."

"The man had emerged from the busy market that occupies much of the square surrounding the Mina-i-Pakistan shrine. He must have astutely recognised me as a recent runaway from my eating of the charitable fare and the fact that I was alone. He asked me in a friendly whether I was looking for work, as he needed a new live-in servant."

"I later discovered that the man mainly tried to target destitute boys, who had run away from rural communities to Lahore, as no one of local importance cared about them and so their disappearance would invariably go unnoticed by those in authority. However, he sometimes also managed to lure to his home the young offspring of poor city residents, who usually loved their sons and reported them as missing, although the police always displayed complete disinterest in the problems of such impoverished families."

"The man, who approached me, never told me that he already employed four teenagers on a part-time basis to look after his various needs. Despite being not as financially well off as before, he could still afford such servants, as they invariably came very inexpensively."

"I was later to ascertain, after the whole scandal was revealed, that the names of these teenagers, whom I never met but who apparently often assisted him in his procurement and abuse of boys, were Nadeem, Shabir, Sajid and Ishaq Billa. I also subsequently learnt that the main hunting ground frequented by Javed Iqbal and his minions in order to acquire the man’s next victims was the square surrounding the Mina-i-Pakistan shrine and other nearby places."

"They knew that many runaways tended to congregate there because of the free food on offer daily in the shrine and the presence of the adjacent market, where some of the boys begged or alternatively tried to sell goods or services for a few rupees [1 = about 2 US cents]. For example, destitute children would try to vend flowers, which grow wildly and abundantly throughout Lahore, water, cheap trinkets or themselves."

"I was additionally to find out later that Javed Iqbal and his teenage collaborators, who also must have had great wickedness within them, used a variety of tactics to lure boys of the street to the man’s home. For example, the highly attractive Ijaz, who was in his mid-teens and was to be the next target after me, was tempted by an offer to perform a massage for 50 rupees [about US$1]."

"Ijaz, who wore a ‘kara’, an ornamental iron ring around his ankle, would spend his days in the market with his younger brother, Riaz. They possessed a small box of scented oils, which they offered to use to massage male customers. Their living was meagre, with 20 rupees considered a good weekly return. The offer of 2½ times this amount to ease in his home Javed Iqbal’s claimed bodily pains was too lucrative for the boys to decline the commission, which the older sibling agreed to fulfil."

Riaz would never see his older brother again, except in a photograph. In the snapshot, Ijaz was proudly wearing a new blue shirt, apparently given to him by Javed Iqbal to replace the tatty white version originally worn by the very handsome teenage boy.

"I could not believe my luck at receiving the man’s offer of employment, in which I would earn a decent wage. I innocently did not know the possible dark side to such a job and so, given his apparent friendliness, immediately accepted. My first day in the great city of Lahore had therefore miraculously apparently brought me food, work and a new home."

"My first disappointment was the nature of my supposed new home. It was a shabby apartment with three small rooms and 12-foot high ceilings to allow the common sweltering heat encountered in Lahore to rise. This was a much-needed help for the circulation of air, as the only windows, located at the front of the shabby residence, permitted little ventilation, as well as only a small amount of light because they were virtually opaque with filth and covered by thick iron grilles."

"The apartment was located down a narrow alley in one of Lahore’s slum quarters and the sparsely furnished accommodation reminded me more of a small warehouse than a residence. My impression was enhanced by the strong acidic smell emanating from a backroom, where a few large blue plastic drums and a number of full sacks were stored. I immediately thought that my new employer must conduct some form of minor manufacturing business from his domestic premises, although I did not question him about my speculation."

"The man invited me to sit on a wide couch and offered me a drink of orange juice, which I gladly accepted. He then asked me to tell him my background. As I considered that my new employer had every right to the information, I was happy to tell him about myself, including where I came from and why I had left home to come to Lahore."

"After I had finished, the man next asked if he could take my photograph with a polaroid camera that he owned. He lied that my image was needed for registering my employment with the authorities."

"I should have sensed his deceit and become much more wary of his motives when he also requested that I posed for his camera with my t-shirt off. However, I was young and naïve and obeyed without thinking."

"I had never seen a photograph before, let alone the contraption that produced them instantly, and, given his explanation for the official purpose behind his request, I was actually both content and intrigued to allow him to acquire his image. Having removed my t-shirt, I even smiled broadly for the camera."

"The man subsequently showed me the newly produced photograph and I now saw my own face, displaying my full array of thankfully perfect white teeth, smiling back at me, which was something that I had previously only ever seen by way of reflection. The image gave the false impression that the open doorway to the backroom was framing my now bare upper body."

"It was only much later that I became aware that my positioning for the photograph was quite deliberate because the doorway was symbolic of the sad fate intended for me."

"The man then offered me more orange juice, after eager consumption of which I quickly became sleepy. I have to confess in retrospect that, despite the physical collapse that now overwhelmed my body, my insensibility was not so complete that my mind was not vaguely aware of what he then did to me. I believe from what I can recall that my cognisance was aided by the fact that my drowsy eyes opened occasionally, although I remained totally incapable of other movement."

"The man laid my now virtually motionless body along the couch and then set up what I later learnt was a video camera on a tripod to record what he was about to do. After commencing his filming, he removed my sandals. I then somehow sensed my shorts being pulled down and off me. However, I was unable to react to any of these disturbing mental perceptions."

"The man then fondled my front for a while, lingering for quite a time at my hairless genitals, before turning me over and separating my legs. He then must have removed his own clothes because the next thing I sensed was that he had straddled my helpless nude form."

"I then felt my bumcheeks being separated and something big pressing against my virginal sphincter. As he subsequently began to deflower me, the induced agony caused me to groan slightly, which must have confirmed to him that I was feeling what he was perpetrating on me. I later discovered that he tried to drug his boy victims only into semi-consciousness, sufficient to render them helpless to prevent what he was doing, whilst still allowing them to sense in their minds his evil abuse."

"After the man had had his wicked way with me, he returned me to lying face up and must have fetched his knife. However, before he could cut my genitals off, my drugged helplessness ended."

"Despite suffering some residual mind-muddling effects from the tranquilliser he had furtively given me, I somehow immediately appreciated that the man now meant me great harm."

"I believe that I was then aided in my escape by the man noticing my reopened alert eyes and regained consciousness, which appeared greatly to surprise him, causing him to hesitate in what he had intended to do next. I subsequently made use of his momentary inaction to roll quickly off the couch and regain my feet."

"I think I was a bit dazed on my feet at first but the horror of now seeing him also stand and rush at me with his knife soon cured the grogginess. Probably because I had always possessed the ability to be fast and elusive, I then managed, despite the intense soreness of my bottom, to evade him and his weapon and ran to the door to the alley outside, which I found to my terror was locked."

"Fortunately, the door was old and poorly maintained and, despite my lack of inherent strength, it opened when I gave it an almighty push with my bare shoulder, which became badly bruised as a result. However, the injury was a small price to pay in return for my life."

"I then ran naked up the alley outside and eventually escaped into the surrounding roads, which were quiet because I now discovered that it was the middle of the night. The few people who did see me must have been greatly shocked because public nudity in a Muslim country is greatly frowned upon, even when displayed by a diminutive young street urchin."

"I did not stop running until I came across a part of the city that I had come to know slightly, as I had explored it in wonderment just after my arrival during the previous day in Lahore. I remembered where I had spotted the local police station, to which I now rushed, despite the fact that street urchins were not normally welcome in such places."

"Many such homeless and illiterate boys were either orphans or, like me, from large families in remote, isolated and extremely poor rural communities, where education for children is unknown. The motivation of the latter group for running away from home is often actually mainly selfless."

"They know that their large impoverished families would benefit from having one less mouth to feed. They also hope to find fortune in the cities, whose grossly exaggerated allures are often described to them by boasters who claim, frequently falsely, to have visited such places."

"The boys therefore run away from home in genuine expectation of someday returning enriched to help their families. However, very few ever do return, primarily because of their deep shame at the reality of their lives in the cities, where many of the pretty ones who do not prostitute themselves are raped. Even fewer acquire any wealth."

"Rural parents rarely report their missing their sons, either through apathy or recognition that the authorities are completely disinterested in runaways and take no action to find them or resolve any of the problems caused by their subsequent destitute presence on the streets of cities. The boys are thereby left to their own devices and, if they then disappeared from the face of the Earth, no one other than the person responsible for their disappearance would know, except for the group of fellow urchins they might have managed to garner as friends. No one of importance would also be interested to learn about a suddenly lost homeless waif."

"The survival of the boys on the city streets is generally aided by the common charitable practice for more affluent members of the population to donate food to Islamic shrines for subsequent distribution to the poor. There are also a few small ramshackle hostels run by some good people, although their amenities are generally dire and so stretched that the young residents are usually forced to rest shoulder-to-shoulder in old sleeping bags on the hard floor of densely crowded rooms."

"Such hostels are too few in number to make any great impression on the numbers of youngsters forced to sleep rough. There are also some run by disreputable people that are little more than fronts for boy brothels."

"If any boy urchin ever dared to make complaints to the police about some maltreatment suffered on the streets, he’d normally be rewarded by the feel of an officer’s cane or truncheon raining down on him. However, on this occasion, I was lucky, perhaps because of my unusual nudity and the fact that a noticeable trickle of semen was dribbling out of my very sore bumcrack and down one of my legs. Nevertheless, the duty desk sergeant’s unusual compassion did not extend to accepting my incredible story of being drugged, apparently raped and almost emasculated by a man who had lured me to his home with the promise of food, shelter and employment. He instead preferred to believe that I had run away from an abusive client to whom I’d sold my body."

"In the police station, despite considering that I was telling him lies, the desk sergeant kindly found some cover for my naked body. He gave me a t-shirt and a pair of boy’s shorts, which were kept in a box of cast-off charity clothing stored for the benefit of people arrested in dirty attire. He then threw me out of the premises."

"Despite the fact that my new garments were a few sizes too small for me, and I was now unshod, I was happy to experience the termination of my shameful nudity. However, I was otherwise very distressed. The policeman had not believed that I had been raped and almost emasculated but had instead thought that I was an aggrieved and untruthful boy whore. I also began to feel the actual reality of my true position. I was lonely and destitute on the streets of Lahore, whose current night-time darkness now appeared to be indicative of my true future prospects."

"Given the police reaction, I realised that I could now do little about the man who had raped me and had also intended to cause other harm to my body. I therefore concentrated my mind on simply surviving the new life that I had stupidly afforded myself."

"I prayed to Allah for ultimate deliverance, just as He had granted me rescue from the evil man. I also begged God not to allow any other poor boys to fall into the wicked person’s clutches."

"I did not know at the time that my prayers were already too late for 96 boys who had preceded me into the man’s home and would not be answered for another 4 youngsters who fell into his evil clutches, including, during the course of the day now dawning, Ijaz."

(Offices of the Urdu-language newspaper, ‘Jang’, Lahore, Pakistan, shortly afterwards)

"I have sexually assaulted and mutilated 100 children before killing them," the recently arrived letter sent to a top crime reporter read.

"All the details of the murders," the sinister document continued, "are contained in the diary and the 32-page notebook that have been placed in my rooms and have also been sent to the authorities. This is my confessional statement."

In fact, the documents sent to the police had been considered part of a perverted hoax and had therefore been thrown into a wastepaper basket, only being retrieved when the media became interested in the alleged confession and were speeding to the given address.

When the police eventually arrived at this address, located along a narrow alley off Ravi Road in one of Lahore’s slum quarters, shocked reporters were already present. They had found bloodstains everywhere, as well as a few bloody handprints. There was also the iron chain that Javed Iqbal had used to throttle his precisely 100 boy victims after he had raped and emasculated them.

In order, however, to cater for Islamic sensibilities, whereby emasculation by Muslims of fellow adherents of the faith is considered extremely profane, most subsequent official and newspaper reports suppressed the reference to mutilation. Consequently, it is not widely known that all of the boy victims were nullified before being murdered.

There was additionally a photographic gallery of the victims, some of whom were as young as 9 and most of whom were shirtless. Some showed pairs and even threesomes of boys. The snapshots, carefully consecutively numbered in order of death, had been taken just moments before their murders, which none had known was imminent.

100 invariably pretty brown faces, crowned by dark hair falling across smooth brows, stared back from the photographs. A few of the boys smiled happily, others shyly, whilst some appeared apprehensive.

In a corner of the room, five plastic bags contained sandals, 85 pairs of them, and boys’ clothing. There were also other tokens of young lives horrifically cut short. For example, there was Ijaz’s ‘kara’, or ornamental iron ankle ring.

As well as bloodstains, the walls also displayed many yellow sheets of paper, containing Javed Iqbal’s hand-written accounts of the history of each boy victim, including graphic descriptions of how he had abused, mutilated and murdered them.

One of the tall blue plastic containers present was full of foaming acid and contained the bobbing remains of the last two boy victims. Nearby was a note from the murderer explaining "The bodies in the house have deliberately not been disposed of so that authorities will find them." Javed Iqbal apparently wanted to leave irrefutable proof that his confession was no hoax.

Javed Iqbal had only taken 5 months to murder his pre-set target of 100 boys, of whom just 25 had been reported as missing, and the only action that brought his killing spree to an end was his written confession to a newspaper. Had the man decided to rape, mutilate and slay many more children, he would probably have achieved his aim.

Javed Iqbal had disposed of the bodies through the simple expediency of cutting them up and completely dissolving them in a mix of hydrochloric and sulphuric acids. He then poured the resultant liquid mush away. He boasted in his written confession that "It cost me 120 rupees [about US$2.40] to erase each victim."

Javed Iqbal initially used his own toilet, which was basically a hole in the ground, to pour away the evidence of his latest murders until neighbours complained about the acidic smell. He subsequently selected the nearby, already heavily polluted River Ravi to achieve his evil aim.

The grim disposal of bodies in this way meant that no parents who cared about their murdered sons would ever have graves over which they could grieve for their lost offspring.

Javed Iqbal was not present at his apartment and the local authorities launched the biggest manhunt in Pakistani history to try to capture the serial killer. Meanwhile, the police did manage to arrest the murderer’s four young accomplices, one of whom, Ishaq Billa, died shortly afterwards in custody. He allegedly committed suicide by throwing himself out of a 3^rd-floor window during interrogation, although most people believed that the officers had simply gone too far with their questioning techniques.

The impression of police incompetence was compounded by the fact that they never found Javed Iqbal. After a few weeks of living rough in caves in the countryside surrounding Lahore, the serial killer instead simply gave himself up to the newspaper crime reporter to whom he had originally posted his gruesome confession.

The subsequent trial of Javed Iqbal and his three surviving accomplices was long and arduous. Over 100 witnesses testified, including Riaz, Ijaz’s younger brother. The event was made even more strenuous by the serial killer withdrawing his confession, insisting instead that his written testimony had been composed under duress and that his alleged victims were all still alive. He challenged the police to find the missing boys, with the whole development being extremely distressing to those parents who had loved their lost sons.

Despite the retraction of the confession, Javed Iqbal and his three surviving accomplices were convicted. The two youngest boy servants, Nadeem and Shabir, were sentenced because of their age to life imprisonment. However, Sajid, who had now turned 20, and Javed Iqbal were to suffer Islamic Sha’aria justice, by dying in a similar manner inflicted upon their victims.

The judge ordered that Javed Iqbal and Sajid were to be taken to the market-square, where, in front of the families of their victims, they were to be strangled with the same chain used to throttle the 100 boys. The bodies of the pair were then to be dismembered and the remains dissolved in acid. However, such sentencing was condemned around the world, as well as in some of the more liberal sections of Pakistani society.

It was therefore rather convenient for Pakistan’s international reputation that, on the morning of the 8^th of October 2001, prison authorities announced that both Javed Iqbal and Sajid had been found dead in separate but adjacent cells, having apparently hung themselves with bed-sheets. However, autopsies revealed that, at the time of their deaths, the pair had been bleeding from the nose and mouth. There was also other evidence that they had been beaten just before their demise. Nevertheless, no action was ever been taken in respect of any official responsible for supervising the custody of the two notorious prisoners.

Nor was any policeman prosecuted for corruptly overlooking Javed Iqbal’s earlier crimes of rape against boys or for accepting certain kinds of immoral hospitality from serial killer, despite clear video evidence.

(A certain university in the north of England, September 2004)

"Thank you for listening to my personal history," the very handsome student remarked to his new highly sympathetic university mentor. "I believe that you should understand my background," the 18 year-old then maturely suggested, "in order to fulfil your role towards me properly. I also find retelling my story rather cathartic, as I confess that I still possess some psychological scars from what I went through in Lahore. The fact that I now know that Javed Iqbal wanted me to see my own severed genitals dangling in front of my eyes, as my last vision of this world before he strangled me with his chain, particularly haunts me!" The listening lecturer was not surprised at such a revelation.

Earlier, the student had advised the history lecturer that, after Javed Iqbal’s evils had finally come to light, a certain desk sergeant had recalled a naked street urchin arriving at his police station to complain about a man who had raped and tried to mutilate him. Official embarrassment that no action had been taken, which might have saved the lives of victims numbered 97 to 100, including Ijaz, had then stimulated the authorities to want to silence the 13 year-old boy concerned before he spoke to the media.

The desk sergeant himself was compelled to lead the search, as only he could recognise the urchin, who had miraculously escaped from Javed Iqbal’s evil clutches. He luckily located the boy quickly, in the most common place to find such waifs, namely the market-square surrounding the Mina-i-Pakistan shrine. Here the 13 year-old, innocence now lost and eager to earn a little money in order to survive, was prostituting himself. The child would accompany a client down a quiet alleyway, which also represented his nightly sleeping accommodation, to either perform fellatio or allow himself to be sodomised, the skills for both of which he had rapidly acquired because of his desperation. His reward would be 1 rupee [about 2 US cents] per customer, which he had learnt to collect in advance because otherwise, having gained their pleasure, some men subsequently declined to pay.

The boy’s life was, however, now to change completely and for the better. The 13 year-old was to be one of the very few whose fortunes, by running away to Lahore, would substantially improve, albeit perversely directly as a result of his encounter with Javed Iqbal. In return for the child’s silence, and probably to help salve some guilty consciences, the authorities undertook to fund him to go to one of Pakistan’s best boarding schools, which was normally reserved for the sons of the very rich.

Despite the boy’s illiteracy, and the fact that he was initially bullied because of his lack of previous education and his low social background, his inherent intelligence, capabilities, fortitude and willingness to work hard eventually brought due rewards. His subsequent remarkable academic and sporting achievements, along with natural pleasantness, also garnered some loyal admiring friends, who ensured that the bullying ceased.

The result was the eloquent, confident, academically and sportingly gifted, very handsome 18 year-old currently sitting in the university history lecturer’s office in northern England.

"What do you eventually want to do with your life?" the adult mentor finally asked of his new student. "I really only have one aim," the 18 year-old replied, "and that is to help the boys living on the streets of Pakistan’s cities. Despite the problems highlighted by Javed Iqbal’s evils, little has been done by the authorities to alleviate the plight of the homeless children, apart laughingly from making it harder for individuals to buy large amounts of acid!"

"One Pakistani newspaper referred," the student continued, "to ‘the terrible sexual frustration and perversion that lie just below the surface of our hypocritical society. The abuse of young boys is an unspoken but rampant aspect of everyday life here, and sodomy is the dark but all too common side of sexuality here. What happened on such a staggering magnitude in Lahore recently occurs daily on a smaller scale elsewhere without editorials being written or inquiry committees being formed!’ Well, I for one hope to save as many children as I can from being compelled, like I was in order just to survive, to participate in such depravities!"

"For all we know," the student chillingly added, "there might also be other monsters in Pakistan, who are far more discreet but also far more productive than Javed Iqbal. They could at this very moment be quietly eliminating in horrific ways hundreds of the homeless boys of the streets and no one might ever learn of their wickedness!"

Subsequently, the university lecturer made arrangements to donate a regular proportion of his monthly salary to a charity, recommended by the student, which was devoted to alleviating the suffering of the boy urchins of Pakistan. He also intends to pass on to the same organisation all of the royalties from a book of his that is about to be published.

Both the university lecturer, who wrote this sombre story, and the student hope that readers of this tale might also care sometime and in someway to make their own contributions to the same worthy cause.

THE END

of

‘THE MONSTER OF LAHORE’

by Pueros