Why write about Karachi? Someone, both astounded and aghast, asked me. What’s there to say? To me, however, there is plenty to say and write about and this piece is intended for those who share my opinion. Karachi at a glance is nothing but a freaky pollution-prone metropolis where crime rates are sky high, water shortages abound, sewage overflows and power cuts happen round the clock. I agree but there is nothing in the world that would make me live anywhere else. One of the blessings of Karachi is the southwest wind that blows into the city. There is nothing fresher in the evening than to be cooled by it. It helps us get through power cuts and lures millions onto the shore just to enjoy it.
What are the sights and sounds that you can enjoy? Well Karachi is hardly what you could call a scenic city. There is the mausoleum of the Quaid — Muhammad Ali Jinnah — but the only time I have been there was when my cousin insisted on seeing it and I tagged along. But I did make a trip to Mohatta Palace, the residence of Fatima Jinnah, the Quaid’s sister. It is a beautiful building, recently renovated and it is now a museum. There are tour guides who take you around and explain the history very thoroughly.
Then there is Manora. It is a fishing port far from the new suburbs of Karachi, where people can hire trawlers for a night and catch all the fish they want and then have it barbecued on the spot for a midnight snack. It was daring to attempt such a feat when most on board were afraid of water but it was still some party. We didn’t get back until the early morning but it was worth every rupee.
Music is heard from every corner and in every shop in Karachi. Sometimes it blares out rudely and sometimes it catches you unprepared and brings some rhythm to your lethargic stride. There are also the oddest combinations. In Bander Road — M.A. Jinnah Road, the heart of Karachi — one can literally breathe in car fumes and hear pressure horns round the clock but there on the corner in a pan shop is Noor Jehan crooning her melodies. It is indeed strange to have something so lilting and melodious amidst all the clatter. And the shopkeeper will be as attentive to you as he is to Noorie.
It happened that we had to take some foreign friends to see Karachi. The place that we immediately thought of was an air-conditioned restaurant away from the crowds and the nuisance of beggars. Come on now, who wants to show the part of town which one would rather hide under the carpet. But to our surprise they wanted to see Bander Road of all places. They wanted to document those streets where one can barely walk.
There was a photo shoot of a pull-cart owner and the fruit-seller who put the basket of fruits on his head and shouted in rhythm to attract customers. The quack dentist who sat on the pavement was ready to give advice and even extract teeth. I realized that this really was the flavor of Karachi. This is what best portrays the city. So instead of taking them to an expensive restaurant, we took them to a mobile vendor who sold biryani to thousands and much to their amusement, we ate standing up. It was fun and I can’t think of a better time or one where I got to see Karachi so thoroughly.
It’s a sad feeling when you fly out of Karachi. You think you are getting rid of all your worries but in fact this is a city which grows on you and you end up feeling dejected as the plane lifts you over the smog and the buildings and confusion are slowly obstructed and merge into nothingness.
