Karachi's forgotten bustling life, buses & music

From Kolachi to Karachi, the bustling metropolitan of lights has come a long way. Now it is in tatters unfortunately, owing to lack of ownership from the people and the government, alike. As a Karachiite, I have no dearth of memories to cherish as the city used to have a happening ambience all over: be it the sprawling katchi abadis, the middle class concrete jungles or the posh localities. Apart from its night life – as Burns Road, Lalukhet, Nazimabad Chowrangi and Bahadurabad used to bristle almost till wee-hours with eateries – there was a commutation magic in the city. That was its private buses, Omni buses and coaches with a colourful mode of their own.

Frequenting anywhere in the city was not a problem, and that too at dirt cheap price. Primarily, it was the Afghan money from well-off refugees as well as the Urdu-speaking entrepreneurs, who had invested in transportation for a profitable tag. I can recall a few bus routes, such as W-11, with a massive fleet en-route from New Karachi to Keemari, frequenting across the heart of the megalopolis. These minibuses were startling by their decorations, and the prime attraction was its sound system blazing with Indian music all the way. Bus conductors and drivers were from a mix of ethnicity – Pakhtoon, Punjabi and Mohajir youth – who ruled the roads of one of the world's fastest-growing megacities.

Other remarkable routes with bigger fleets were 2D, 5C, 5, 2K, 1C, D7, 4L, as well as the awesome high-end coaches namely Starline, Marwat, Shams etc, hoped on by the office executives too. Many of these vehicles are still plying but the glitter and enthusiasm is gone. These buses were catered to by millions of labourers, office-goers, students and women, alike. The government-run STC red buses were also there, mostly plying on the peripheries of Landhi and Korangi, connecting the then industrial zones with Saddar. Teen Hatti, Empress Market, Regal Chowk, NIPA, Aisha Manzil, 2-Minute Chowrangi, Shireen Jinnah Colony, Safoora Goth and Gora Qabrastan were the buzzwords as teenaged conductors screamed from the depth of their throats to squeeze in passengers in their literally-flying objects!

The most attractive feature was, of course, music. The bus operators knew the latest albums to play on, and were lethal executors in terms of deafening sound. One could hear the song rhyme while standing at bus-stops, and many would hop on even if the bus was crammed – just for the love of music. In the days of VCRs and Indian flicks being displayed at homes on leads (wire connections), these bus-rides were an additional aura of pleasantness and came as a good break.

To recall the favourites of 1990s and beyond are Janam samjha karo sung by Anu Malik and Hema Sardesai; Ali da malang and Koi tou hei jo nizam-e-hasti chala raha hei by immortal Ustad Fateh Ali Khan; Aaj raat chandni hei by Kumar Sanu and Sadhana Sargam; the ever-green romantic songs of Saajan including Mera dil bhi kitna pagal hai and Jeeye toh jeeye kaise bin aap ke, and of course, the unavoidable popular dab of Govinda's Tujhe mirchi lagi toh main kya karoon. A noticeable fact is that a few of those, including women, who opposed such music were silenced by co-inmates on the bus, as the driver looked the other way.

Pakistani pop numbers too had a share on these buses, such as Sajjad Ali's thrilling Bas bhai bas ziada baat nahi chief saab, Ali Haider's Purni jeans aur ghitar, Adnan Sami Khan's Tera chehra jab nazar aye, apart from so many hits by the melodious Nazia Hassan and the awesome Junaid Jamshed. The sensitivity factor was there too as music was stalled during prayer timings, and Qawwalis and Nohas tuned in during Rabiul Awwal and Muharram days.

These buses were thus also a source of business for cassette-sellers in an era of tape-recorders. Saddar and Regal had dozens of music stores that did a roaring business before the advent of smartphones and digital gadgets. With MQM undisputedly at the helm, these buses often had a loyalty card to display as many played Mazloomoon ka saathi hei Altaf Hussain as and when they saw rogue winds in the city! That was a leaf of their adaptability and societal reconciliation. Gone are those days and that cosmopolitan semblance as the city is now at the mercy of chingchis.