The goings-on are colourful and noisy. After every 50 yards or so there’s a handcart on which Kathiavari chholey (chickpeas) are being sold. A bowlful with crushed crackers and red chilli flakes on top, scooped with a rather smallish loaf of bread, can make your mouth water for a very long time. Try and take your eyes off it as quickly as you can, else it’ll distract you from the more important job at hand. You’re in Soldier Bazaar.

The thin road is divided by a raised kerb. On both sides there are shops (mostly eateries) of as many varieties as the people thronging the area. These stores, however, don’t hold your attention. What catch the eye are the buildings that tower over them. Not all of these structures are old; those that need our attention. Decrepit but beautiful, they’re surviving like wounded gladiators trapped in a phase that’s not known to them.

Once you cross Holy Family Hospital you’ll see a tranquil, tastefully kept locality on your right. It’s a series of well-constructed bungalows occupied by the Parsi community. The neighbourhood has an air of peace about it, and evokes a picture of the days when houses were not meant to be jerrybuilt or ill-planned. Space is the key word here.

It’s only when you move away and a little ahead from this serene place that reality check will bring you back into contemporary, if not modern, times. There are countless structures flanking the road, making an uneven graph. Those who live here will tell you that not many old buildings now exist; they’ve either been demolished or replaced by their concrete counterparts. That’s not entirely true.

A little midway on the left of the main road there’s Anand Bhuvan, constructed in 1925. Though the ground floor is chock-a-block with stores hiding its age, its upper storeys tell a different tale. Rectangular and square balconies, some marked by dusty woodwork and a few by rusty metalwork, and interesting-looking windows indicate had Anand Bhuvan been well conserved it would have cut a different picture.

A block further on, there’s a narrow lane to the left of the Tarachand Building (another oldie) that leads to a magnificent temple. It’s the Panchmukhi Hanuman Mandir. According to some accounts, it was built in 1927, but Parsotam Chela Ram, also known as Kaka, who lives in or around the mandir, is of the view that it is at least 200 years old. Kaka is a fascinating character. A short and skinny figure, he is full of beans despite being a half-a-century old. Kaka says the Panchmukhi Hanuman Mandir is a sturdy piece of architecture and believes there are plenty of structures in the precinct that hold historical importance. He points towards the Soldier Bazaar Market that was made in 1954. Kaka’s right. The market is for sure a world unto itself. Blocked by hordes of vendors perched on the Seth Mulchand maternity home.

pavement outside the bazaar, the building now looks a big yellow square from where all kinds of odours waft around.

Opposite the market, across the road, there’s a maternity hospital (also a midwifery training centre) whose architecture belies the things it’s surrounded by. Before you enter the facility, it’s virtually impossible not to look at the footpath on which scrawny goats are tied to trees; mentally challenged people sprawled on creasy sheets; beggars buzzing like flies… a disturbing sight.

The commemorative plaque on the hospital wall reads, “Seth Seoomal Mulchand Khilnani Maternity Home Opened by His Worship, the Mayor M H Gazdar Esq on 7th March 1942.” The thick columns at the entrance, the wooden doors and staircases, and the arched openings make the hospital a completely different entity in Soldier Bazaar.

Moving back from Mr Khilnani’s generous gesture, in a crowded locality opposite Anand Bhuvan there’s Preet Kutia building. The date of construction written on it is 1937. Though 72 years old, those who live here have tried to impart a more up-to-date look to it.

Architect Arif Hasan says: “These structures’ architectural attributes can’t be given off-hand, The Panchmukhi Hanuman Mandir.

but I can tell you that in 1918 or 1920, a proposal called Miram’s Plan for Karachi was put in place, in which Soldier Bazaar also featured.

“You must remember that there are always two aspects of conservation: (1) buildings’ upkeep or maintenance; and (2) area conservation. In this regard, the vicinity of Soldier Bazaar is important, because it depicts the building typology of a certain era, and an important one at that. It represents the typical colonial development period. We need to conserve the entire neighbourhood.”

As for how Soldier Bazaar got its name, well, the market was estabPhotos by Fahim Siddiqi / White Star

lished when the British ruled India. It was used by British soldiers, hence Soldier Bazaar. Architect Yasmin Cheema writes in her book Historical Quarters of Karachi, “Soldier Bazaar was located at the north end of the city and till the late 19th century had no links with the remaining Karachi quarters. In 1915 Karachi Municipality started to develop the area as a suburb of Karachi.”

Returning from this fascinating locality is not easy. The alluring aroma of Kathiavari chholey tempts you to stay put. You can’t. Life is cruel.

mohammad.salman@dawn.com
Tags: