AN understatement: Karachi has changed. These days we get to hear this on a regular basis. Yes, it has. But we often fail to realise that when we say that Karachi is no more what it used to be, we think of it in tangible terms: ornate colonial buildings, tram rides and a smog-free atmosphere. We tend to overlook the intangible aspect of it. Till a couple of decades after Pakistan’s independence, those who lived in Karachi or had the duty to run it hassle-free, felt for it; they had an emotional attachment to the city. Among other things, Karachi was their connection with nature. Though it has never been an abundantly verdant piece of land, Karachi used to have beautiful gardens dotted with trees. So, if anyone tried to cut the trees down or they were found in an unfavourable condition, it would hurt the citizens.

On March 4, 1967 this newspaper carried a small news item with a picture lamenting that the Bunyan trees on the only Bunyan drive — a service road near a farm on old Manghopir Road — stood bare because their roots had been chopped off and the trees had been deprived of their own crown of foliage. This was the level of considerateness on the part of Karachiites. They wanted to keep their town as close-to-nature as possible.

A few days earlier, voices were also raised against officials of a park in the Pakistan Employees Cooperative Housing Society near Lal Kothi. The park cut a sorry picture. Its officials claimed they were doing their best to maintain it making regular provisions for expenditure on the park in their budget, a visit to it belied their claim. The lawn had gathered more dust than there was grass on it. A society spokesman said that the facility was not the society’s property and the land formed part of the 240-foot-wide National Highway.

Speaking of lost charm, on Feb 28, glimpses of Mughal glory were seen at a performance given in the city by an Uzbekistan Folk Dance Ensemble called Bakhor (pronounced Bahar). According to a cultural critic, it brought evidence connecting Pakistani culture to Central Asia’s. The dance moves and musical instruments — chang, rubab, gidjak and doira — were all too familiar to the Karachi audience, and the dancers looked like figures out of a Mughal painting. The performance was devoted to spring and its joys.

Three other foreigners who hogged the headlines that week were a German, his French wife and an Englishman. On the night of Feb 28, Schaurer Gerhard Walter (30), a West German national, was found murdered on a hilltop on a beach about 30 miles off Karachi. He was on a picnic by the sea with his French wife, Montjaux Sylust Paulme (25), and a tourist from England, Michael Leonard Borin (18). Borin saw the body near a tent that they had pitched on a hilltop. Walter was killed with a hatchet.

On March 1, the police suspected the British tourist’s involvement in the murder and locked him up. They said he was detained on suspicion. Meanwhile, the police found it difficult to question Mrs Walter in the absence of an interpreter because she could hardly speak English. The plot thickens.

Published in Dawn, February 27th, 2017