KARACHI: The bigger and posh neighbourhoods no longer have them but they can still be spotted in the narrow lanes of small middle-class localities.

“There they are, the little devils!” An elderly woman, her grocery basket in her hand, points in the direction of a few children in the lane up ahead busy decorating a portion outside a town house on Sunday. “You don’t know what a headache they can be knocking at my door at odd hours for chanda, or donations, for their little sabeel,” she adds before going her way.

The children are mostly boys with one or two girls peeping from the windows of the neighbourhood houses or from some gate or the other just to check how much work has been done and what’s left to do still as they run and report back to the kitchen if more refreshments are needed.

“We keep orange flavour Tang in a cooler,” says 14-year-old Wali Raza, who is busy accessing the damage done to their little sabeel outside their home with his younger brother, 12-year-old Talib Raza, and eight-year-old sister Zobia Raza. “We haven’t gone around the neighbourhood bothering people for donations. We made everything ourselves from our pocket money but last night someone just came and stole most of our decorations. Now we are starting all over again.”

Asked why they hadn’t gone door to door as children in other neighbourhoods, Wali Raza says: “Well, who gives money for these things these days? It is better to rely on oneself.”

His brother adds with a smile: “We were also feeling a bit shy.”

Meanwhile, 11-year-old Naveed Azeem, another youngster decorating his sabeel, says that he with his friends did a lot of legwork for their little refreshment stall. “Those who couldn’t give us any money said they’d help in kind like the nice aunty in the building there,” he points to an apartment building, “who said she’ll make milk sherbet for us to distribute for free at our sabeel. Then another friend’s mother gave us her chador to use as a screen for the front of our stall.”

“Some people gave us Rs10, some Rs20 and some even Rs100 or more while several could only spare loose change but it all adds up as we have been collecting from the 1st of Muharram,” smiles Osama Rafi.

“Our pets will attract more people to our sabeel.” — Shazia Hasan

Sameer Wasim and Maharib Iqbal at another sabeel says that they have been serving different drinks each day.

“Yesterday it was red sherbet, today it is milk sherbet, tomorrow it may be almond sherbet,” says Sameer as he tries to find a place to store milk cartons.

“We have also made a nice cool place inside our sabeel for our pets, whom the people coming for refreshments can also befriend,” says Maharib showing off his pair of pigeons and partridges and promising to get the tortoise out, too, the next day. “All these decorations are to attract people to come and try our refreshments and the pets will attract them further.”

Meanwhile, there is also some rivalry going on among the children. “When we woke up this morning, someone had destroyed many of our decorations. I’m sure it was them,” Maharib points a finger to a group of younger kids across the road.

“Of course, not they are crazy for blaming us,” says Fatik Malik, the kid across the road.

“Two days ago, our sabeel was also pretty much destroyed but we never blamed anyone as we knew it happened due to the rain,” says Fatik’s friend Shameer Aqeel trying to use an intravenous drip apparatus to make a mini-fountain under the stones and pebbles he has placed on one side of their stall.

A couple of older neighbours smile in the background. “The sabeel is a dying tradition now. We are just glad it is alive in some small neighbourhoods such as ours,” says Mohammad Iqbal.

Asked why it was a dying tradition, the gentleman smiles and says: “Well, people are forgetting all sweet things that bring them closer and this is one such thing. These children don’t necessarily belong to the Shia or Sunni sects. They belong to both but some people associate this activity with just the Shia sect, which is not true. It is just a cute practice of offering cool drinks to passers-by,” he says.

“People have gotten so busy in their fast everyday lives that they don’t seem to have time for such things any longer. There are security issues, too, stopping parents from letting their children go out for a while even though it may be their own street. So such activities only take place where the people of a neighbourhood still care about their neighbours and are willing to keep a watchful eye over each other’s children also, “ says Asghar Abbas, the other neighbourhood elder.

Published in Dawn, November 3rd, 2014