Tartan plaids adorn shop windows strewn with sporrans, spats and Glengarry hats. Between them, a dozen bagpipe makers squat in cubbyholes, open to the street, turning chanters and ferrules on roaring diesel lathes. It is a vision of Highland heaven, a homage to Caledonia in the heart of the Pakistani Punjab.
Mohammad Younis sits behind the counter in Golden Pipes, one of 15 bagpipe shops in Sialkot, a grim industrial town an hour's drive from the Indian border. With more than 20 pipe bands in Sialkot alone, business is fine, he says. Though how the pipes came to be in this nondescript corner of South Asia, Younis cannot say. 'I guess we've always loved the bagpipes, I suppose they're just part of our tradition,' he said, seated beneath a tea-towel, celebrating the bonny banks of Loch Lomond.
Younis is right. Indians and Pakistanis have been making and playing bagpipes for well over a century, since the first Highland regiments arrived in British India.
In Pakistan especially, the instrument has become more popular since independence. Army, air force and police divisions routinely have a pipe band, as do schools, sports clubs and, in northern Pakistan, many small villages, filling the valleys of the Karakoram mountains with their lament.
Nadeem Bhatti, a fourth-generation bagpipe-maker, has a keen sense of the instrument's local history. His great-grandfather founded British India's first bagpipe works in Sialkot at the turn of the nineteenth century, and began exporting pipes to Scotland in 1910. Bhatti's grandfather renamed the business the Peterson Pipe Company and expanded it, attracting a handful of local imitators.
Taking one of the company's early brochures, Bhatti reads: 'Great Highland or military bagpipes, perfect in shape, tone and workmanship, as supplied to British and Indian regiments.'
After independence, and the withdrawal of the Highland regiments, the Sialkot bagpipe industry hit hard times, driving Bhatti's father to close the company in 1958.
However, on his grandfather's advice, Bhatti reopened it with a cousin in 1980. He now sells up to 3,000 sets of bagpipes and 10,000 kilts a year, mostly in Scotland, Canada and America, and mostly over the internet.
At around £25 each, Bhatti's kilts cost less than a tenth the average price of a Scottish kilt. And if their quality is generally inferior, at least one Scottish kilt-maker is happy to pass them off as his own.
Last month Bhatti was sent a kilt by an American man, who wanted to know if he could copy it. Indeed he could - although it had come to bear a 'Made in Scotland' label, the kilt had been made in Bhatti's factory in Sialkot.
Bhatti is now planning to open a bagpipe and Highland-wear shop in Edinburgh.
'It would be a great opportunity to offer people better, cheaper kilts,' he said, and then added that he was not looking forward to the Scottish weather.