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December 11, 2003
Moonlight waves
Crabbing remains a popular form of recreation, writes Sahar Ali
Clad in a tempestuously floral shirt and clutching a mobile phone, Captain Saleem cuts an authoritative figure on Karachi’s Keamari Pier. On a moonlit evening in Karachi, we are fishing for an alternative dining experience away from the local highstreet of Zamzama Boulevard, and its restaurants teeming with yuppies and cacophonic Bollywood music.
Captain Saleem motions for us to park our car in a safe spot, and turns on his sales pitch to try and get more money out of us than is reasonable to pay. Two baskets of crab and some fish for a seafood dinner cooked on a sailboat moored off Keamari harbour. Beverages are charged on actuals. He wants Rs1,700; we will pay Rs1,200.
“This isn’t the first time you’ve come to me. You are old clients and I’ll take you for free if that’s the case,” he argues politely, unwilling to negotiate but not wanting to lose regular clients. He finally agrees when we decide to try out another ‘captain’.
Five minutes later, we are walking down the time-worn wooden steps of Keamari’s passenger pier and into one of Captain Saleem’s sailboats. Trawler nets have swept the harbour clean of crabs so fishing for one’s dinner is, sadly, a thing of the past. Crabs are now caught somewhere near Port Qasim and carried out in grimy jute baskets for the dinner cruise.
The dimly lit pier is quiet on a weeknight. Boats crowd the harbour, bobbing up and down with the gentle lapping of the waves. A double-decker ferry is waiting to fill up before it departs for one of Karachi’s satellite islands — Manora, Bhit or Baba.
Saleem waves us off deputing his brother Razzaq and two co-sailors with us. The captain is expecting another, larger group. As we pull away from the steps, one can’t help but notice the murky brown colour of the water and the floating debris. One averts one’s gaze and wonders, instead, why all the sailboats are named after airlines: Air France, KLM, and Alitalia.
A motorboat pulls our ‘Swissair’ out of the crowded harbour. As we glide on beyond the mouth of the harbour, boats become ships, the mercury dips and cool air begins to blow across our faces. Razzaq gets the kerosene stove going while the other two drop anchor as the motorboat brings us at a secluded spot beyond the harbour. As the co-sailors become co-chefs, we recline on the divan-style benches lining the sailboat’s bow, awaiting our dinner.
We chat loudly, trying not to hear the cracking and snapping of limbs and joints as live crabs are broken into pieces and tossed into a pot of boiling water. Moonlight shimmers on the waves. There is a peaceful silence save for the occasional splash of a fish or the gentle lapping of waves against our boat.
Near the stern, Razzaq & Co are slicing ripe and juicy tomatoes, a staple ingredient of the meal. As the fragrance of turmeric, garlic and chillies is carried towards us on the cool sea breeze, our mouths start to water. The three-course dinner served by lamplight begins with a plate of tender potatoes cooked in a paste of tomatoes spiced with red chillies. This is served with clay oven bread roasted or fried.
From prior experience, we go easy on the appetizer to save space for the main seafood courses. The tomato chutney is served next but we are unable to hold back on this delectable and spicy dish. Pretty soon, the empty plate is set aside to make place for fried fish and crab.
The fish is batter fried with minimal spices that bring out its flavour. The main body of the crab is split into two and stir-fried with the standard ingredients — plenty of tomatoes, garlic and ginger paste, turmeric powder and red chillies. The semi-sweetness of crab meat is complemented by the tangy taste of the ubiquitous tomatoes and the zing of red chillies.
The second course requires a painstaking effort in picking the meat from the shell. Equipped with wet tissues, our fingers ferret out the meat with abandon. The grand finale is the lollipop — crab legs with a juicy chunk of meat attached to the end, broken off the main body and fried in the standard masala. Our plates are a mass of empty crab shells and legs, and the bare, unpolished plank that serves as our table is strewn with empty Coke bottles.
From chefs, Razzaq & Co become agile sailors once more and spring into action to unfurl the sail which will take us back to the pier. It is a leisurely ride back to Keamari pier where the restored clock tower tells us it is almost 11pm. As we alight, our bodies seem to bob and sway taking time to adjust to the immobility of terra firma. There’s an incredible lightness of being, even monetarily, as Razzaq and Co receive Rs1,500 for treating five city-weary souls to an evening of unsurpassable ambience.
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