IT is kind of funny how time and time again anything and everything you put across to the man on the street evokes sarcasm — blanket sarcasm. Most of them subsequently try to be rational but that is more of an afterthought. Initially you almost always get a knee-jerk response. They don’t just try to laugh off the question. They pretty much do the same to the questioner.

From small-time vendors selling their wares in upscale areas to their counterparts in downtown, middle-class and peripheral localities, the streak remains unchanged on Karachi’s streets.

Also read: Who will rule Karachi?

When camera crews of television channels approach them for footage and sound bites, people behave slightly differently for they know their faces will be beamed across the country and beyond, but only if they are politically correct in terms of word choice.

Yet when you approach them with just a pen and a notebook in hand, Karachiites speak their own language, which is rather colourful and dotted with expletives.

For Karachi and Karachiites, this year’s election is a new phenomenon. They actually have to think. The last time they did that was in the 1977 elections

It is fun interacting with them, but the fun soon ends for there is hardly anything left to cobble up a copy worth publishing. You come back to your desk with nothing on the notebook and a load of (self-) censoring beeps crossing your mind and asterisks dangling in front of your eyes.

How is the election campaign going this time round? It was a simple how-is-the-weather-type question. At least it was intended that way, but pat came a counter-question. “First you tell me how much money is being spent on all this.”

When told that in the last elections, it was about Rs400 billion and was likely to be no less this time, a few inventive curses preceded a stare — as if you were the one spending all that — and then came this gem:

“How much do you think will be enough to build the Bhasha Dam that we are about to build with the help of the chief justice? The Election Commission of Pakistan should have asked all the candidates to donate to the fund created for the purpose. That would have been much better than spending on trucks wrapped up in panaflex and fitted with sound systems blaring out self-conceived, self-written eulogies in self-praise …”

For Karachi and Karachiites, the election this year is a new phenomenon. They actually have to think. The last time they did that was in the 1977 elections. Since then, everyone knew who was going to take Karachi.

That element is missing this year, which means it is a city pregnant with hope and uncertainty. For many, it is a case of being pregnant with twins, and mood swings are pretty much part of such a phase.

While talking to a vendor in the city’s central district, it just so happened that a truck passed by with the election symbol of a dolphin prominently displayed. The gentleman concerned left his discourse midstream, winked and said what he probably could not say in the past.

“The dolphin, you see, is an apt symbol. It’s the Indus Dolphin, actually, and you know it is an endangered species. Let’s see if somebody can come to its rescue.” The next thing he did was a high-five with his friend standing next to him. The truck passed, but the laughter continued a wee bit longer.

Postscript: All the quotes above represent the most sanitised versions of long rambles, but if you don’t live in a world of your own, it is actually not too difficult to pick the (self-) censoring beeps and asterisks that are invisible and yet there in the text. Try again, if you will.

Published in Dawn, The Business and Finance Weekly, July 23rd, 2018

Correction: The story has been updated with deletion of a quote due to an editing oversight. The error is regretted.