Shall we remember? Shall we forget? Shall we look to the future? Shall we bring along the past? They tell us we need a new Pakistan.

Pakistan began with fear and faith. We still live in fear and faith. Before and during Partition it was the anxiety of being marginalised after the withdrawal of British rule. That fear turned into a movement for a separate homeland that was achieved in 1947. Today we live in a fear of our own making — corruption, inequality and poverty — to which violent extremism has been added.

Fear is not necessarily a bad thing: used as a positive force, it heightens awareness, gives energy and makes one ready for obstacles. It gives focus and is a great survival tool. Karachi, which was once known as a city of peaceful trade, has become an anxious, negotiated city. Business persons negotiate with mafias, cars negotiate with buses and motorbikes. Citizens are forced to negotiate with other citizens over access to water, land, a spot for parking a fruit cart or even a spot for begging.

Pakistanis overcome fear on a daily basis, setting up pakwans and dhabas, travelling to and from work, going to study, visiting friends and family, and going on picnics. One of my teachers came with a Saniplast on his temple. When I asked, he casually said he was walking home at night and a bullet grazed his temple. All I could think of was: if he had moved an inch the other way the story would be different.

In the complete absence of a nurturing state, except for an interest in its income, Karachi has learnt to be self-regulating, embracing its complex layers much as a multicellular living organism perpetuates, adapting to survive. It evolves and develops its own immune system.

A glimpse into the history of all modern nations reveal stories of upheavals, poverty, inequality and internal or external conflicts that were eventually overcome.

Seventy years after the US gained independence, it was still a country in the making, with uneasy politics, on the brink of war with Britain, at war with Mexico, forcibly annexing states, failing and recovering economies, and a flourishing slave trade. The Native American tribes were being decimated, their lands taken over and the remaining relocated and brought to their knees. The gold rush had still not begun and the civil war was yet to come. Roads were not paved as yet and New York was Gotham with gangs, slums and crime. The lake that provided water to the city was polluted with sewerage, migrants streamed in especially in the wake of the Irish potato famine. These nations determined the narratives of their own history, choosing instead to remember inventors, artists, musicians, poets and national heroes.

We don’t need a new Pakistan. We just need to build on the energy and values that defied all gloomy predictions that brought us through the last 70 years.

Pakistan’s narrative began long before its creation. It continues to be an imposed narrative of the longings of political and religious leaders, or the dismissive narratives of vested international voices. However, the real narrative has to be that of its people, defined by its poets, writers, artists , film-makers, musicians, qawwals and folk musicians, by its philanthropists, its traders and businessmen, by its young army officers and pilots, its panchayats and police force, and by its rural and urban lifestyles, clothes, cuisine and sports.

More frequently now, we see postings on the internet of images of Pakistan’s natural beauty, its people, the achievements of its women, its techies, its humour in an attempt to install counter narratives that more authentically reflect the people of this country.

When Pakistan came into being, it had a handful of factories and mills, one university, a cinema production house, lots of farmland, two main cities with banks and businesses, almost all of which were abandoned by their Hindu and Sikh owners.

The government had meagre funds: a mere portion of the amount due to them after Partition, and a blank cheque given to Jinnah by Adamjee Haji Dawood, who also persuaded the Memon and Gujrati communities to bring their business skills to Pakistan. The Nizam of Hyderabad in a daring secret mission flew in enough gold to rescue Pakistan from bankruptcy and allow the first budget to be declared.

Who would have thought in that difficult first decade that Pakistan would send 35 competitors to participate in the London Olympics in 1948, get international test status in 1952 and win the British Open squash championship in 1951? Even films began to be produced with the efforts of Shaukat Hussain Rizvi who built Pakistan’s first modern studio — Shahnoor Studios — on the ruins of Shorey Studios.

It was the people of Pakistan who developed Pakistan, not its government. With the exception of a few five-year and 10-year plans and a few VIP roads and motorways, it has been built by textile mill owners, manufacturers, idealistic educationists and doctors, architects and builders, small workshop and restaurant owners and hoteliers, and it is the people who continue to build their country.

We don’t need a new Pakistan. We just need to build on the energy and values that defied all gloomy predictions that brought us through the last 70 years.

Durriya Kazi is a Karachi-based artist and heads the department of visual studies at the University of Karachi

Published in Dawn, EOS, August 27th, 2017