Surviving the monsoon
By Maheen A. Rashdi
THE sights are familiar and so are the sounds. The cacophony raised by buses is still as jarring and the body-breaking craters on the roads are still as bruising. But while the landscape remains the same, there is a sense of great despair and an even greater desperation writ large on people’s faces. Living seems to have become a great burden.
The homecoming after twelve months to this city we love and simultaneously love to hate, is melancholic. While it is a pleasure to stop at Café Quetta for paratha and chai, it is impossible to ignore the burnt facades dotting familiar surroundings, bearing testimony to the physical beating that Karachi has withstood – a tangible reminder of the huge emotional trauma the city has borne this past year. More heartrending is the visible strain brought on by shattered economics on middle- and lower-class households. Beggarly pleas of “Baji roti dilado” have increased drastically. Since daal at over a hundred rupees a kilo and naan hovering between five and ten rupees have pitiably lessened the daily meal intake of the labour class – survival has definitely become a gruelling game of grit.
But ‘economics’, I discover, are only the tip of the iceberg. Fear of the unknown future has never been so high before. “Karachi has become unliveable.” “Don’t ever think of returning.” Such is the advice I am dished out. But how can an individual who has lived, learnt and attained a modicum of success in this very same society which appears to have lost its intellect, abandon the past? Karachi, with all its ethnic segregation, still holds its vibrant multicultural ties tenaciously and is perhaps the only South Asian city to do so. Nowhere else will warring factions sit in harmony side by side eating qeema ghotala at the nearby khokha during lunch time discussing electricity and water woes together. While their politics might differ, their daily woes definitely unite them!
The fearful whispers of a Taliban takeover (of Karachi) too have taken a more dramatic turn of late. But then how come the number of the jean-clad working women has increased? “No, don’t you see all the burqa-clad fundamentals flooding the city? The Taliban are ready to take over, I’m sure,” says one lady. I wonder if she has been to see the new play in town yet which deals with corrupt women and their murderous shenanigans replete with raunchy cabaret numbers? What a huge wow THAT was!
So what if there are more burqa or hijab clad individuals around? Karachiites have always been a live-and-let-live breed? If I see more young girls observing hijab I also notice more jean-clad women in public transport. Theatres and coffee hangouts were once the domain of the elite, now youngsters from all segments of society indulge in all such pastimes. This happy union of all beliefs has been a Karachi hallmark. Unfortunately, it has become eclipsed by a culture of mistrust.
The Pushtoons, Muhajirs, Baluchis and Punjabis have lived in the city together since the early years. While they fought on many issues they always kissed and made up, continuing to keep Karachi their dwelling place. The cultural divide couldn’t be the basis of the ravages that Karachi has seen of late. The marauding has been done only by professional marauders. Who they are or what their agenda is, is staple of numerous conspiracy theories. And to thwart those violent plans should be the agenda of all true Karachiites.
The monsoon in Karachi brings with it heavy rains, clogged drains, broken roads, traffic jams and breakdown of the electricity network– a trailer of which we saw a few days ago. But while the rain aftermath was habitually destructive, the sights and sounds of Karachi on a rainy day have never looked more pleasant to me. Breaking the gloomy aura of a ravaged landscape were the street children playing in muddy puddles; a pickup full of youngsters singing the latest Indian film number and motorcycle revellers heading straight for Seaview to make merry. That is a scene no first-world country can offer. And THAT is what I would want to return for. The present times are Karachi’s extended monsoons. Our test is to withstand the downpour and show the doomsday pundits our resilience and ability to survive all storms.

