Looking back at the ‘90s era, during the time I was growing up, Karachi was a livelier place. Today, the city’s liveliness is overshadowed by its strikes, gunfire, police and ambulance sirens. The Roshni of the city of lights is still there albeit only at the traffic signals, begging for money so she can get harassed on the way back home for being a transgender.
Growing up, I was not told by my mother to keep looking over my shoulder as I walked down the streets. Today, even as I step out of my car to get that roadside bun kabab, I fear the hardness of a pistol barrel on my neck.
There was a time when shopkeepers or businesspersons did not have to worry about paying extortion money merely to stay alive. Mothers did not feel the need to call their kids every passing minute to check if they were safe. We did have problems like everyone else but it took a long while for words like ‘bhatta’ or ‘naamaloom afraad’ to become household terms.
The city’s overall situation does present a grim picture but amidst all this, there still exists a spark of hope in the form of the likes of Parween Rahman, Abdul Waheed and Abdul Sattar Edhi in Karachi. All those who have worked behind the scenes to envisage something better out of the mess we find ourselves in. It is not often that they get credit for what they do; however, their lives serve to be the finest examples for each of us to follow. To be someone like that, one needs the courage, the vision and the commitment to serve humanity.
Unless each one of us owns these causes, we will keep living in this miserable situation, cursing our luck – and our politicians. Some of us might even end up as just another number on the crime report pages.
Published in The Express Tribune, September 23rd, 2013.
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