When Karachi burns, the mind can make space for little else. Last week will go down as yet another example of the metropolis’ devotion to life.
Karachi is one city that celebrates the living as it mourns its blood stains. Once again, Karachi lived parallel lives.
As the air hung heavy with both gloom and a gruesome history, ominous of sullied tomorrows, the city, mired in brutal turf wars in Lyari, target killings, ethnic tensions, deadly political maneuvers and terrorism, took a bow in local and international press for hosting Fashion Pakistan Week. It was days of luminous fashion shows that sparkled with gauche life, haute couture, nouveau vigour.
A city that supposedly gives life a bloodied name showcased modern alongside conservative, ample skin was flanked by the traditional and the audience made for an interesting cocktail – headgears reveled in what was perhaps fantasy next to bare-shouldered, well-heeled fashionistas eyeing this season’s potential wardrobes. Some highlights became metaphors for Karachi’s inherent tolerance and joie de vivre – the avant garde was just as acceptable as the glorious Mughal pieces by the style doyenne, Bunto Kazmi, followed by sleek, structured and diaphanous silhouettes that were sent down the ramp by the iconic Maheen Khan.
Shehla Chatoor opened the show on a high note with sexy, edgy cocktail dresses and chamois jumpsuits and the event reached a crescendo with Umar Sayeed as he closed the night with the widest range – slinky jumpsuits, halters, and drop-shoulders to absolute regalia. This week was everyone’s Karachi – it was symbolic of its thriving, pulsating past regardless of the scars.
However, the realisation that the metropolis’ gory yesterday is yet to be buried is a bigger tragedy than this month’s mayhem. Despite shimmer that draped the city on one end, its grisly past seemed all around like a shroud. A flashback is twenty-twenty at a time like this – from the days when Zulfikar Ali Bhutto’s version of MLR 52, whereby 303 government employees of primarily Urdu-speaking origins were summarily dismissed on mostly unproven charges, followed by the great democrat’s subsequent moves such as the time when Sindhi was pitted against Urdu.
Rais Amrohvi’s legendary line ‘Urdu ka janaaza hai, zara dhoom se nikle’ (‘tis the funeral of Urdu, carry it out with fanfare’) ignited the wrath of hundreds who lie buried in what is known as Qabristan Shuhuda-e-Urdu (Graveyard of the Martyrs of Urdu). Then came the announcement of the infamous quota system through a constitutional amendment, which was promulgated for 15 years and further extended for another 10 years by Ziaul Haq. It spelt doom for Karachi as until 1999 a mere two per cent employment quota in government institutions was allocated to the nation’s pulse-beat. If this was not enough, Karachi’s youth in particular became the prime target of atrocities – the city lost over 10,000 lives in extrajudicial killings during the MQM’s battle with the state in the early ‘90s. Many victimised families fled the country and many more took to living by the gun out of either fear or vengeance.
Coming back to today, Karachi remains the progeny of a lesser god. Torn between ANP, PPP, MQM and now some hidden butchering hand, the fact that it is at the mercy of an apathetic, corrupt police force which is neither indigenous nor decently compensated and therefore has negligible affinity to the city and its denizens makes the metropolis a ticking time bomb, vulnerable to the slightest spark. So when the governor announces that its police must be made responsible for the sustainability of peace, he needs to think again.
Can he ensure that hidden and existing hands withdraw their patronage to law enforcement forces? Also, Ishratul Ibad failed to even touch upon Karachi’s impoverished, ill-trained police corps. And what of statistics such as the gross number of policemen deployed to keep government officials safe – in his time Zulfiqar Mirza alone had as many as 47 police personnel by his side.
Regardless of such injustices, the weight of which may be impossible to offload, Karachi remains a delightful schizophrenic – its will to live coexists with a desire to be on the brink of collective suicide. Its insolence in the face of injustice and compassion in times of carnage stems from a simple truth – Karachi’s bane is its role as a political pawn.
It has always raised the first slogan against bigotry and intolerance – from Salmaan Taseer and Shahbaz Bhatti murders to the Swat deal – Karachi has carried out the most effective protests, signature campaigns, candlelight vigils to collecting aid and foodstuff for strife-torn localities.
So, once again, it is time to salute its many lives. Dickens, it seems, said it for Karachi – It is the best of times, it is the worst of times – as no other city straddles two worlds for survival.
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