HOPE either dies young or last … or so they say. Karachi is a living testament to the latter. Pakistan’s prodigal child bleeds on, but never says die. Hope may sustain it; it sees promises breathe their last every day. However, just when it seemed to have exorcised past demons to stay alive, Karachi, like Benazir Bhutto, fell hard in cold blood and slid into unprecedented mayhem.

Close to 200 buses and coaches were torched, 37 petrol pumps were set alight, and 170 passenger trains stood destroyed, a hospital and ambulances were also attacked and set on fire, to name just a few of the city’s wounds. This time, it took a week for it to breathe again, as deprived Karachians thronged the markets for essential goods, commercial hubs reopened and roads returned to characteristic frenzy.

The tragic day of Dec 27 was indeed one of impulsive, unbridled outpouring that made the city ungovernable in an instant. But the days that followed Ms Bhutto’s murder saw very little in the way of security and the city remained deserted, fraught with fear and uncertainty. It was eerily reminiscent of May 12, 2007, when, as the city burst into flames, the Rangers remained conspicuous by their suspect absence. They had claimed to have successfully protected the city’s buildings and its property but had failed to protect its people and their livelihoods.

On Jan 1, mere unfounded rumours such as an attack on MQM’s Dr Farooq Sattar became catalysts of fury as mobs returned to pelt stones accompanied by aerial fire and threaten shopkeepers to pull their shutters down. From upscale quarters such as Zamzama and Boat Basin to the more susceptible localities of Saddar and M.A. Jinnah Road, people were left to scour for shelter on their own as all security forces were out of sight.

Once again, shops were ransacked, valuables were snatched and even parked cars were not spared. “I was picking up some food from Boat Basin during my lunch break when four boys came and started throwing stones at my car, which was frightening,” said Shahid, a businessman.

Another of scores of victims is a restaurant owner on Zamzama. “Boys just stormed past my guards, came in and told me to close up or else, so my customers ran and I had to close for the day,” she said, requesting anonymity.

If this bedlam was not enough, circumstances were made all the more acute with the refusal of petrol station owners to provide fuel without allocation of security. For nearly five days, their pleas were overlooked by the authorities. Nearly all fuel stations incurred colossal losses with neither the Rangers nor the police to guard them and people were kept away from their places of employment as the city came to a virtual standstill. However, it was surprising to see that, five days later, when peace was assured, the Rangers and the police were out in full force.

The home department clearly has a lot to answer for; the Rangers and the Frontier Constabulary have consumed a huge budget, beginning with a staggering Rs4 billion spent in 1991-92 and then in 1998-99. Now it is speculated to have escalated to epic proportions given wage raises and various price hikes. With the MQM collisions behind us, what precisely is the force’s significance and function today? And who will ensure that it actually does serve its purpose and the people?

The Rangers are hailed as better trained and equipped than the police and their essential purpose, now almost a Karachi tradition, seems to be one of managing the most tumultuous calamities; be it rain or terror. The last week proved that major monitoring mechanisms must be in place to guarantee adequate provision of security. After all, the fact that a petrol pump next to the Rangers’ headquarters had to shield itself with little more than a tent is evidence enough.

Small wonder then, that the hapless citizen expresses little faith in law-enforcement agencies in the city; they evoke more fear and faithlessness than belief and trust.

“We should feel that the presence of the Rangers will fix everything and they will not allow destruction. But instead, we know that they will not be there when needed most and in the past, some very crass incidents happened when people approached them for help,” explained Faisal, a car mechanic from Soldier Bazaar.

As Karachi makes yet another attempt to live again and to heal perhaps its deepest wound, it cannot be denied its rightful privilege of sincere security.