Once again: They say Karachi lost its cool somewhere between the fiasco of 1977 and the fires lit in the heart while it burned in 1995. Yet I see a resilience in the spirit of Karachi. When you go in search of the city that lit up the eyes once upon a time you find citizens with fortitude waiting to tell their stories. You find them in the heartland of Saddar, around the spear of the Tower, along the coastline lined up with fishermen, old men sitting down with a gleam undefined and the young who inherited a part of its spirit from their forefathers, the teddies who are now vigorous white-collar and the hippies who now don sparkling and creased shirts. Then there is the rubble which upon close inspection is crying out for the architecture that once stood erect with nuance and inflection. Karachi is there to be witnessed in its glory whether its through nostalgia or through the remnants of its character in People. Viva Karachi! Looking for an identity either of ones own self or of that spirit that moves the city by the sea one cant help but notice that there are three distinct groups of people (there may be more, sub sets in a way) who define an association with what it once was: those who lived it then as now, saw the highs, experienced the lows, lived the high life, swung about the culture, strutted their stuff; those who lived it vicariously through those who lived it, saw a glimpse of it before it was clamped down moodily; and those who believe in it believe it as a folklore both real and unreal! There are clear demarcation amongst these three. All three are vibrant, brilliant groups and all three are vigorous in their pursuits. The first group lived it, the third group in all probability will infuse the spirit that is Karachi with verve and brilliance in years to come. What happened to the Group in between: the lost souls, wistful, moody part of the group of Aunty Entitys children. I am a survivor from that group. Viva Karachi! Heres to us then who are left behind to find the spirit that lives within us all: It is not the city of the vanquished nor the pride of the victors you dont settle down here you are not of here but from here you dont put down roots here you simply pass by She transforms every few seconds, decades to some, eons to others she embodies the spirit of the seas and the souls of the desert winds: She evolves she dishevels she concocts she devolves she devalues she devours she confounds She is a sea-faring beast...asleep on the edge of the oceans that are not hers she listens not she sees not she interjects her potion of love to defile and then beguiles Victoria was disarmed then disowned Trams one day were just withdrawn locals and circulars were cut condemning there is NOT here bridges built and torn down and then built again like an end that begins and then begins again natives upstaged, uprooted Dinshaws, Cowasjees sidelined Fisherfolks discounted Musicians floored, implored, flouted Padres, fathers, mothers, teachers seaed off Culture went south, newbies looked west Sea upon sea of people hauled out and waved in Apocalypse come and gone then and now... (This is Part 1) Viva Karachi
Posted on: Wed, 19 Mar 2014 20:03:51 +0000
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