A labour of Love

Here’s my ode to Karachi, my Beauty and my Beast…

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The hidden Jewels of Karachi

As you speed around old town Karachi, an entire civilization passes you by, with you none the wiser. Just pause one day and see, you’ll get a glimpse of what life once used to be…

Karachi has beautiful architecture, now forgotten and over shadowed by ugly monsters. I am all for modern art but aesthetics must be kept alive. It speaks for us as a nation that we embrace the new and the shiny and neglect the historic and the beautiful. Be it values, art or culture.

I took a drive through old town Kurrachi today and really SAW. The chamber of commerce is exquisite with intricate arches and proud domes that are being overwhelmed by new, ugly constructions. Funnily enough, the front of the building is maintained but the back has been allowed to fall into ruins. I wish I had my camera so I could have shown you what I mean.

We roamed around Kharadar. The Karachi Port Trust was the only building preserved in it’s original grandeur. It’s a sight to be seen at night time with it’s luminescent glow. The birthplace of the Founder of our Nation, Quaid-e-Azam was crumbling and is thankfully being renovated. Nestled within the dirt and decay lie the hidden jewels of Karachi, tourist spots that could bring in much needed revenue for the country.

I saw with new eyes, stories of yore. Karachi has so many tales to tell but is any one willing to lend an ear? I discovered that Lakshmi building where my optician is located is not just an ancient ruin but a masterpiece of Hindu architecture. You look past the jumbled wires hanging dangerously overhead and glimpse a delightful arch. Beneath the clothes line flapping in the wind is an intricately carved wooden balcony. And the New Memon Masjid hidden by tiny shops is, beautiful after all.

We came to hundreds of tiny rehri walas selling ever thing from macchi to clothes all at very reasonable rates. The air was rich with the aroma of halwa puri and nehari. People were thronging as though poverty had never struck them. Little kids dressed in their Sunday finery pranced around. As my mom chose the fish, I and my father shared a kinnu in the car. There was pleasure in every bite. Even as a horde of well-dressed beggars descended upon us. I would rather have had that orange with my father in Kharadar than a feast in Sheraton.

The past should not become a thing of the past. We have yet lessons to learn from history.

Winter’s Parting Shot

Come November and winter shyly creeps in, like a long-forgotten friend unsure of her welcome. She finds that her fears were unfounded. For the Karachiites have eagerly awaited her since the last 10 months. And now that she is here, the celebrations begin.

Weddings are held followed by Christmas and new year parties. Food is consumed in abundance. The neharis and payas avoided the whole year by the weight concious suddenly become halal The rehri wala pops up, selling roasted nuts of different varieties. The IBA cafeteria begins offering soup.

Nights are long and cold, the youth warm themselves dancing at mehndis. The days are even better. For winter captures the sunlight and releases only a fraction of it – a milky, comforting warmth – pleasant to the beholder in a way that summer sunlight can never be.

But this year winter is angry. For in this city of lights, for once the illuminations dimmed. Naive people were looted, innocent blood was spilled. The same people with whom she had danced the year before, suddenly went crazy. Tears were shed and there was no one to wipe them away.

So she shows her fury. The winds howl, the branches of the trees whimper in pain. The harsh breeze strikes commuters, trying to beat them down. It chills them to the bone. Old women complain of joint pains. Young housewives find it ardous to wash dishes. All of nature is in unison with winter – Karachi has not behaved well.

As a parting shot, winter unfurls all the forces at her disposal. Sunlight doesn’t want to bath Karachi in it’s warm glow. She sneaks away, allowing winter to wage war against Karachi. If the days are chilly, the nights are freezing. People huddle in their houses. They don’t think of their fellow Karachiites less blessed than they – those who live in jhaunparis or out in the open…

And winter becomes even more furious. She engulfs Karachi in her dismal embrace and resolves never to release her.

Winter wants to stay here forever, summer never wants to come back. For Karachi is a terrible host.