Legends of Karachi review: heroes born out of chaos

Mohammad Ali Samejo’ true to life portrayal of Karachi explores the challenges its denizens face

KARACHI:

“With its multi-ethnic urban sprawl and own cultural dynamics, Karachi is far ahead in being a proper metropolis along the likes of New York, Paris, Dubai and the lot….

“Centre of the economy, hub of all trade, a go-to city for those craving an urbane lifestyle and exotic night life, and above all else, a fusion of cultures of not just those living there, but also from those around the world….” Mohammad Ali Samejo describes Karachi in his debut novel, Legends of Karachi.

However, this multi-cultural economic hub and metropolis is not without its fair share of problems that its inhabitants have to tackle day in day out, until they feel they can take no more.

And what happens when you have had enough? Take things in your hands, sometimes not even bothering to wait for the law to take its course as it is generally believed that the situation declines when law enforcement fails. However, things can get difficult and land you in trouble while you try to set things right.

The characters in Samejo’s book, Legends of Karachi, resort to doing the same. They are tired of waiting for the authorities to do something about the various issues that affect their lives, and so decide to take matters into their own hands, regardless of the consequences. As much as the idea of taking matters in one’s own hands and establishing a state within a state or enforcing one’s own rules on society, may sound great, some might feel that it is not totally unjustified. And this is the dilemma which the writer wants to bring to light in this book. Around us, we have seen robbers being lynched by the crowd on the plea that the police would take bribe and release them.

Muhammad Ali Samejo is a seasoned corporate professional, as well as a qualified English language instructor and corporate skills trainer. Son of a television producer and director, Mohammed Bakhsh Samejo, Ali grew up alongside not just a TV set but all forms of entertainment including movies, music, literature, and audio broadcasts of comedy, drama, adventure, and mystery.

As one starts reading, it seems as if the book is a collection of short stories and since the stories end without a proper ending, disappointment begins to set in. However, reading further it becomes clear that the case is quite different as the stories and characters re-emerge and begin to interact, making one realise it was actually a novel. Set against a local backdrop, tackling all relevant issues of the city of Karachi, Samejo has intricately woven various stories into one.

At times it became a bit difficult to maintain continuity because of the multiple story lines, yet the interest and the urge to see what happened next remained. It is interesting how different stories began and how they all converged to make a very unpredictable and thought-provoking end.

The book throws light on various issues faced by the inhabitants of Karachi, such as water shortage and tanker mafia, power breakdowns, transport mafia, gang wars, fraud and corruption, street crimes, domestic violence and workplace harassment, role of media, police and politicians, and so on. It seems all social ills have been dealt with.

However, one realises that deep down it is about how people react to those issues and what strategy they adopt to cope with them. They have a choice—either they wait for some miraculous entity to show up and solve their problem or they themselves become the vigilantes and take matters in their own hands.

While introducing a new subject, Samejo often provide an insight into the issue that is to unfold, thus a reader not familiar with the problems of the city gets some knowhow of what life is like in Karachi. For instance, about power breakdowns Samejo writes:

“Karachi. The city of lights. Right until the power goes out which ironically is just about every other minute.

“The famous or rather infamous power utility company frequently engages in load-shedding to meet the shortfall of electricity throughout the bustling metropolis, adding to the miseries of an already agitated populace that just wants to relax at home after a tiring day at work.

“Load shedding is one thing but the citywide breakdown is an occurrence that leaves the whole city paralysed. Traffic signals, street lights, government hospitals, all fall under the mercy of these blackouts that lead to chaos and bear witness not just to the perpetual darkness of the night, but the darkness every Karachiite seems to carry within them.”

And how can anyone talking about Karachi forget its public transport? Though the transport system doesn’t play a major part in the story, we have some insight into the transport mafia that is so much part of Karachi. “As there has never been a proper mass transit system in Karachi since time immemorial, various private enterprises have ventured into the public transport domain with buses, minibuses, rickshaws and taxis plying along the city on government- approved routes.” In 2002, larger capacity Chinese made yellow rickshaws that could accommodate about ten passengers at a time started operating as small-scale shuttle buses. “With the advantage of costing only a third of bus fares people found it better to travel in them. … This is when the bus mafia struck back. … They even managed to go to court to ban these rickshaws from the streets citing—of all things—public and passenger safety.”

The characters of Samejo’s book are ordinary, everyday people with different aptitudes, priorities and tendencies, and are part of stories that we read about in the news. They come from diverse academic backgrounds, motivations, and professions, yet, they all head towards a conclusion that unites them all, yet is unexpected.

Though all characters have their role and place in the story, as in all books, some are more prominent than others. For example, there is Ambreen Sani, the idealistic journalist working with the Sentinel; she is a person “with a functional moral compass and a sound sense of truth and justice” as she fights against the forces of corruption using the power of the press. She is proud of her mentor “who was tragically murdered for putting the spotlight at ethnic strife taking place at several parts of the country” and wants to be like her. Then, there is Dr Saba Sheikh, a surgeon who grew up in the US but moved to Karachi for helping those in need, though she finds that there is a lot more human misery than she can cope with. But that doesn’t stop her from doing whatever she feels is necessary.

Nadir is a middle-class citizen who is tired of the chaos and disorder in the city, such as double parking, cars going the wrong way, and other violation of traffic rules, bullying, littering, and so on, and tries to help others, though they are total strangers, just because he cannot stand injustice, like he intervenes when he saw some hoodlums beating a poor old man.

And then there is Ghulam Murtaza Sandh, G.M. to his friends, born in Sindh’s highly influential family; his father was the head of his own political party. Yet he is not ready to take the path chosen by his father and wants to create his own niche. “Realising that his heart could never stay settled in one place, he travelled the world … Gaining several insights and experiences from all over the world … he finally returned home till he got bored and headed to Karachi for a lifestyle of just about anything he could throw his money at.”

Dude Chacha is one character that initially seems insignificant, just a homeless person, wrapped around with an old shawl and wearing torn and patched trousers, sitting in an alley near the Sentinel office, whose banter with Ambreen provide some light moments in the book. Later, he turns out to be an important member of the corps that has taken upon it to save the city, i.e. the Pantheon. “His insightful views on life, politics and social trends would mistake him for a university professor, though an incredibly eccentric one by a huge stretch of the imagination. And to the idealistic youth working in the Sentinel, Dude Chacha is their one-stop counsellor in all matters of life, love, choices in academics, and surprisingly convenient weight management programmes for both gains and losses.”

As the various characters in the story, or should we call them vigilantes as they have taken upon them to settle scores, are fighting their battles, some of them attract the attention of the Pantheon, a group that has been operating on similar principles for years. Each member of this clandestine group is known by the name of a Roman god: Mercury, Venus, Mars, Neptune, Pluto, and Jupiter. Despite their names, they are not gods, they are as much human as you and I. At places, it somewhat becomes difficult keeping track of who is who but that does not diminish the reader’s interest in the story.

Parallel to this, there is another group known as The Watch. The members of this group are very visible; unlike the Pantheon, they do not hide in the shadows but move about openly. The group is slowly gaining ground, with more and more like-minded citizens joining it. They patrol the streets of this lawless city, too eager to take the law publicly into their hands dealing with bullies, thugs, spoiled rich teenagers joyriding in their fathers’ expensive cars, and other trouble seekers. It seems they are there to teach others some civic sense and how to respect other human beings.

In the presence of these groups and vigilantes, whether the city’s problems take a turn for improvement or those taking law in their hands and creating a state within the state succeed in their attempts, or whether their actions are right or wrong, Samejo has made no effort to convey. He has presented the problems or rather a picture of life in Karachi and the different ways people deal with them. It is up to the reader to decide which path is better—be a vigilante, a part of Pantheon or the Watch.

 

Rizwana Naqvi is a freelance journalist and tweets @naqviriz; she can be reached at naqvi59rizwana@gmail.com

All facts and information is the sole responsibility of the writer

 

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