Kindly remove the billboards

I grew up in Karachi, watching it grow. When I was small, I noticed small things. Uneven, unfinished curbs and unkempt flowerbeds that the car would go over when it didn’t take a perfect turn. Sand from the sea in corners where it shouldn’t be. When I was old enough to see over walls and appreciate the skyline, I didn’t. Because by then billboards had been installed.

Now when I drive down widened boulevards, I see giant faces of beautiful models staring at me enthusiastically. Normally it is the buildings, trees and real life faces that do the talking. But with the billboard invasion, all these faded into the background. As you drive past a billboard, the expression on the staring face is a canvas. The expression takes meaning depending on what you are thinking and feeling at that particular moment in time. It mutates your thoughts into something strange. And while you think about what a pretty face that was, you have reached the next billboard and this cycle keeps repeating itself.

In many parts of the world, the focus of a billboard advert is the item being advertised. In Karachi, the focus is the model. It’s a shortcut to grabbing your attention, except that you probably won’t notice what’s being advertised and will just continue to check out the model, before swerving away at the last minute from the car in front of you. It’s almost as if these billboards have been installed as a sinister gesture, to make up for what is perceived as a lack of visibility of females on the streets in this environment. But it is more likely that these billboards have been installed to cover up what is perceived as a lack of aesthetic beauty in the physical appearance of Karachi. To cover up ‘nothing’ with something.

Billboards mask the face of this city. Hovering over the Karachi skyline, they are a corporate smog, polluting our minds. I want to be able to see the faded buildings that will make me nostalgic of the 1980s. I want to see the skyline that can’t escape encroachments. I want to feel a sense of spaciousness, not overcrowded chaos. But most importantly, I want to see the giant sunsets during winter, and the giant, low, moon. Kindly remove the billboards and let Karachi breathe.

Published in The Express Tribune, May 31^st, 2015.