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.

The Real Pakistanis

I went to my dad’s hospital today which is located in Kharadar. I saw crowds of sick people, wailing children, harassed mothers, miserable humanity. A little girl came for check up, PCM Grade 3. Her father earns Rs. 100 per day. How can her parents afford to feed her nutritious food specially with essential food prices climbing higher everyday? How can she even buy medicines to be able to get well?

You think this is a hospital, people on the streets are probably better off. But they’re not. The smoke, noise and pollution was enough to give me a headache in the few hours I spent there. And these people live there…

This is the oh-so-famous common man. For him day to day survival is a struggle. These are also our fellow countrymen, our brothers and sisters. Why then do we not relate to them? All Pakistanis don’t live in Defence. They live in dirty, narrow cobbled streets where sunshine is scanty and infections plentiful, where mosquitos hover and stench pervades and garbage is strewn everywhere. While we eat our KFC and Mcdonalds our brothers and sisters die of slow starvation.

Just look past the invisible barrier at Clifton Bridge and see. All Pakistanis are not as blessed as we. While we go to schools and colleges, little kids are busy in hard manual labour and household chores. They are hungry, malnourished and unhappy. What dreams can they have for the future? A full stomach, a single day of safety and love, when mommy and daddy aren’t tensed and distressed? Will the starving man not steal? Will he not grab every morsel that comes his way, whatever the consequences.

This is not a common man. He is a Pakistani, an individual, a human being. And thus he deserves every opportunity that every other person gets. A right to education, clean drinking water and sanitation. And above all hope. Hope that working hard will yield results. Hope that a lack of “source” will not prevent his getting a job. Hope that not having a prestigious English-medium education will not effect his chances in life.

Skeletons forced to remain alive.

How can you step into life with an open, honest happy heart knowing that there will be no justice? And that you’ll be supressed by inequality and discrimination and a pervasive feeling of hatred?

Politicians – promises that will never come true. Purposes self satisfying. Full wallets, empty hearts. A vision that is meant to deceive. Selfishness and greed.

What I am unable to understand is the lack of love. Why do we not want our brothers and sisters to prosper? Their progress will not reduce our own. Why not help them and bring them on the same level as yourself? If a man has fallen down, will you not help him up? Or would you rather crush him as you go?

Inhuman cruelty.

Pakistan doesn’t need corporate successes. We don’t need flashy ads, mobile phones, McDonalds and KFC. The need of the day is quality education for all children. A better economy. Justice and social equality. And above all empathy.

The little girl’s eyes were large and sparkling. And somehow she was still able to smile. An endearingly shy smile that slowly widened to reveal missing teeth. Lets do something to keep that smile ever blooming…