Karachi: The city by the sea

  Blaring horns of over loaded buses , deadly traffic, ever crowded bazaars, beggars with their new trick every day, roads which can get flooded with just an hour of heavy rain..

all of this happens in Karachi. But when you close your eyes and think about Karachi..you can see and feel…

Heavy breeze which encapsulate you fully..and captures every essence of you..
shiny colorful buses whose conductors prefer to shout ‘double hai’..instead of tapping the bus two times to signal the clear way..
Sunday bazaars…zainab market..which have a charm of their own
the craze for roll paratha….
addiction to chaai
the city with the best biryani..
spicy chaat..
Aagha's juice..
Ami's pan...
the language of ‘abay yaar’..
the magnificent beach..
 The glittery silver sand which sticks with you for days..
the powerful waves which take away your sorrows..
If you have lived there ..you can never ever disown Karachi.

Karachi has a magnetic gravity which pulls you towards itself with all its force!  And every time you leave ..you just know that you have to come back...The city does not requests you to come ..it knows you will!

Be counted

 "Fear less the label of 'crackpot' than the stigma of conformity. And on issues that seem important to you, stand up and be counted at any cost....!"(Thomas J. Watson Jr.)

Lets forget our differences and vote for people we find suitable!!..
Lets forget our difference and pray not for our leader..but a sincere leader for Pakistan..!
Lets not stick to our beliefs without pondering over..
Lets vote for Pakistan!
Lets hope for Pakistan! 
Lets pray for Pakistan!
We have suffered a lot .....we have to rise
Do not waste your vote...stand up and be counted at any cost!

(P.S.and if you do not bother about voting...kindly keep quiet for five years:)

a letter to Pakistan

Dear Pakistan …

I miss you..! Do you remember I used to visit you every year? Every day I looked forward to the summer vacations …to the day I would fly to you. The word ‘fun’  was attached to you.

All the feeling and emotions would pop up the word ‘Pakistan!’ .

I had all the luxuries which you could expect in a foreign country  but the warmth of relations  was only felt when I stayed with you.

 Late night outings ,cricket matches ,crazy cousins ..all were part of the bubbly and memorable trips on your soil. The uncontrollable laughter magically captivated us. We loved you and wanted to be with you forever.

Today, I live with you  and yet I miss you.

I miss the good old ‘Pakistan’. I remember your ‘ city of lights.It was  my favorite. Its all dark and gloomy now. It smells of blood. All I can see is scared eyes .There are only two kinds of people left. Scared and barbaric.

Every news is heart breaking. Being optimistic is becoming difficult each day. Every day  a hope shatters.

Innocent lives are laid down . We promise ourselves that these sacrifices will not go to waste. But they do. Things do not change. Each day has a new horrific story to tell.

I miss the ‘botal wali coke’. We used to get our deposit back on returning the bottle. Time changed.The bottle started being used as a weapon in universities.

I remember the long list of visitors from morning to night. Today every visit and phone call alarms me. ’Is everything fine?’

A little delay in someone’s flight forces me to switch on the t.v. My heart starts to beat faster when I receive a phone call from my child’s school. I silently pray for her safety before picking up the phone.

As I am writing these lines, I have tears in my eyes. I terribly miss you Pakistan.! I wish to see you rise again.I want to see you beautiful again ….without  intolerance, without  hatred …without barbarism.

I miss the peaceful Karachi beach. Recalling the soothing wind there can work as a medicine for me even now. The sand stuck in your head for weeks, eating  biryani with a bottle of coke, sitting for hours in the cool sea . I close my eyes and think about you. I can smile now.

Pakistan! You will rise. You have to. You have given us so much. Please do not take it back. I want to be mesmerized by you once again.

Yours truly,

sahar

FIR..ah!

You will never be bored but you will always be amused. Every little thing is a struggle in Pakistan which demands time and effort. The more smaller the problem, the more time and effort requirement. The more time consuming struggles include Petrol/CNG filling, understanding the logic behind inverse proportion of availability of electricity and electricity bills and last but not the least , FIR.

My apartment  is located in an army housing scheme. Two guards sit beside the gate behind the barriers. All the masis have an ID card without which they cannot pass.  Yet,It was robbed in the broad day light.

Day 1:  Police and security personals from two other organizations arrive at the crime scene. Try to find finger prints. No success. No FIR.

Day 2: Chehlum. Police has other duties to perform No FIR.

(News Flash: Shahzeb’s family having  a hard time registering the case owing to political pressure coming from other end) . Should I even try for a FIR?

Day 3:Application has to be submitted at the local police chowki. Inspector’s had to go to the court. The main police station cannot do anything yet. No FIR.

Day: 4:   The inspector had duties last  night. He didn’t show up. No FIR.

Day 5:Application finally submitted and forwarded to the main police station.( Witnesses might have forget everything by now.)

Day 6: FIR cannot be registered without SHO. SHO not on duty. No FIR.

Day 7: SHO still on unknown duties. An officer from FIA intervenes.SHO informs to pick up the FIR  next morning.(The robber might have sold the jewelry and spent the cash)

Day 8: A confirmation phone call is made  before the daily visit to the police station to avoid disappointments. The SHO after being told of  a  reference tells on the phone that FIR can be picked any time(in a ‘at your service’ style). The visit is not a big surprise. The staff at the station asks to come the next day. No FIR!

(News Flash: The Crime Investigation Agency (CIA) of the capital police busted an eight-member gang of robbers on Tuesday. Five members of the gang turned out to be the children of serving police officials.)

Day 9: The robber plans for the next lottery? Yes? No? Whatever but no  FIR.

Summers of 69

There was almost no traffic on the roads. More than half of the country  was  glued to the television sets  in comfort of their homes. No. They were not watching a severe traffic jam caused by some long march of masses in black coats. They were waiting for ‘ Dhoop kinare’  a pure entertainment drama serial. After an arduous day the’ just what the doctor ordered’  kind of humorousness  was always calming.

It was some time long ago. So long that I  could have used the term ‘ once upon a time’  .

The technology has advanced so much so why not humor?

We have sure made a giant leap in this field. Now , humor is making hoax bomb calls to scare the already scared stiff masses. Humor is publicly expressing how badly we need to hug somebody for their gorgeousness. Humor is calling rescue teams, wasting efforts and time just out of good humor.

Everything has changed drastically. Humor shifted  from plays to politics. Dramas have been transformed into politics. (Saas plotting against bahu , bahu playing the role of a perfect witch). The only dramas left for us to watch is  politics in which professional criminals , beasts ,villains , witches and dacoits  play the roles of noble men and women.

Alas , humor has  lost all its charisma