Once upon a time, only three decades ago, on a dark cold night, a train in familiar yellow and green colouring chugged and rumbled down the tracks towards its destination, the capital city of Islamabad, having departed from Karachi a few hours ago. Somewhere in a crowded compartment a forlorn passenger contemplated his future. It was a time when travelling by train was a safe, comfortable, cheap and perhaps romantic option, a time when only the privileged had cars and the very privileged could boast of a telephone connection, albeit a fixed one. What will perhaps surprise the pants off the current generation addicted to social media: computers were not even a figment of imaginative minds and the rhythmic beat of clerks pounding at typewriter’s keys could be heard in the background in offices everywhere. It was the winter of 1980 and, in spite of the fact that today’s youth might even categorise those times as medieval, Karachi was a robust, lively, growing city where people could travel down to Bhadurabad at 2 am for an ice-cream cone with “five ears” at Spinzer. In stark contrast, Islamabad was referred to in friendly parlance as the graveyard city and the sighting of a vehicle on the roads, after sunset, was perhaps comparable with the sighting of the blue moon. Dear readers, candid feedback on the above two paragraphs will be extremely useful for the envisaged endeavour to write a bestselling fiction novel in the near future, so please be judicious in critique. Ever since the family migrated up north, there have been frequent visits to Karachi and every time there was this gnawing feeling that the city is changing and never for the better. This observation is irrespective of the ever-growing ethnic conflicts that may or may not be the cause behind the city’s preposterous decline. On the other hand, such a state of affairs invariably creates pockets within the city that can never be conducive for development and growth. Unfortunately, in the end, everyone loses. And what does Karachi signify for the nation? It is the largest city of Pakistan, by size and population, the focal point for the country’s international trade at its busy ports, the financial hub of the country, the industrial and business nerve centre, the polestar for talent and skilled labour, the biggest source of employment for rural migrants, the biggest market; all in all, the gateway to doing business in Pakistan. In addition to all that, the city remains the largest generator of taxes on which the government is sorely dependent and, therefore, by default subsidises the development of all the less developed regions of the country. Considering all this, Karachi is the golden egg in the nation’s basket of eggs, which logically therefore should be protected and looked after diligently. How have successful administrations fared in developing the city over the past 35 odd years? In one word: terribly! Compared to the days when the city was the landing destination of choice for foreign businesses as well as tourists, there is a general travel warning on the city for foreigners, which can hardly be good for business — perhaps the reason a host of global corporations have been selling off their businesses and leaving the country over the last many years. Once referred to as the city of lights, the majority of the city is shrouded in darkness, even without load shedding primarily because the electricity distribution system is obsolete and has not been maintained. There was a time when driving down Drigh Road was rather exhilarating; today, driving down Shah Rae Faisal, when it is not shut down due to protests, is a stressful experience of the highest order, replete with traffic jams, pollution and the threat of being mugged at gun point. This is the main artery of the city. The road network in general has depleted to a level incomparable with any other modern city of the world and maintenance seems to be a dirty word. Lack of maintenance is not limited to roads only; everywhere while, travelling across the city, buildings seem to be decaying. I wonder what is the situation at the ports. Back then, the Karachi Metropolitan Corporation (KMC) used to do a reasonable job of keeping the city spick and span. Today, everywhere on roadsides all one sees is heaps of garbage fluttering around. The city can perhaps compete for a position as the world’s leading graffiti city. Discipline is the first casualty of an unclean environment. A sole tulla (policeman) in his white uniform used to be sufficient to keep traffic in control on the busiest crossings; today, even with an army of policemen, traffic control remains an elusive target for the city administration. In the golden days, the city’s inhabitants used to venture out late night with eateries jostling with crowds and business till the wee hours of the mornings. In fact, going to a wedding before midnight was ill advised. Now no one wants to be out after 10 pm and even domestic travellers are advised not to venture into most of the cities alone. This time around the cab driver vocally warned against travelling to Bhadurabad for the famous kebab paratha. Notwithstanding the physical appearance of the city, which is in any case important for creating initial perceptions, the worst hit has been the soul of the city. A city known for its friendliness and hospitality to all kinds of migrants looking for employment, the suggestion today is to avoid contact with strangers completely, which obviously restricts access to the knowledge in the air, necessary for innovation in business and otherwise. However, there is a silver lining: the soul survives. A cab driver pointed out that while the city is a shadow of its former glory, even today, a common Karachiite will never shy away from helping a fellow human in distress, something not many cities can claim. Putting Karachi back on the path towards development is not a choice for Pakistan; it is a necessity if the ruling elite ever wish to build a better Pakistan. Karachi is where the buck must stop, followed by Lahore and so on and so forth. It is imperative that the leadership invest heavily in the city, in its infrastructure, in its maintenance, in its administration, in maintaining law and order, and thereafter let the city pay back dividends for the country as a whole, which the former has the capacity and ability to do, admirably. The writer is a chartered accountant based in Islamabad. He can be reached at syed.bakhtiyarkazmi@gmail.com and on twitter @leaccountant