Daily Times

We have all heard the usual spiel. It goes something like this: Karachi is a city of more than 20 million denizens. Karachi is a city that treats everyone the same, no matter wherever you might be, whether by the sea or by a toll plaza. And that it is people who tend to create divisions, who sow the seeds of hatred. Yet we always come together as one in the end. Well, I am here to tell you, dear reader that nothing could be further from the truth. Allow me, if you will, to enlighten you as to what the truth of Karachi is.

This city is a teeming, throbbing mass of humanity, which is routinely and neatly categorised by class due to clout and coffers running the show. The most educated lot here are to this day woefully referred to as “immigrants” — whilst the sons of the soil, or at least of Sindh, are denigrated as “dacoits”. The whole set-up reeks of a plot stolen from that book by Charles Dickens. You know the one, right? Yet instead of a tale of two cities — what we have in Karachi is a tale of many, many cities, each one boasting its own idiosyncrasies and distinct culture. Sadly, the people of each come together where it would be better that they do not. Meaning that disdain for all other neighbourhoods is the singular uniting factor.

Now, I can well imagine that there is many among you who, upon hearing such uttered sacrilege, are all set to get up and brew a storm in your teacups. Fair is foul and foul is fair, after all. Yet before you do this, dear friends of mine, I would request you to take time out and tell me how many of you go forth and cross bridges that connect not just this city — but that also bridge the existing gaps in the hearts and minds of all who share this vibrating megalopolis. Do any of you realise that we would happily find much of our daily purchases at cheaper prices if only were willing to go the extra mile, say, a twenty-minute drive. Do any of you understand the irony when we hear ourselves muttering things like, “Are the roads working ‘over there’?” or else, “No, man, that is way too far out for me to drive!” or even, “That is an area where no one knows their neighbours.” Of course, I am ready to hear charges of focusing on the trivial. But to this I have just one thing to say in response: all this is borne of something far greater than distance. I am, naturally, talking about the far greater chasm of class.

The above are cracks that threaten to rob Karachi of her true character. And nowhere are they more apparent than in our assumptions about the different folk and the areas they inhabit, all of which we are only too ready to dismiss as cheap since that is the best put-down we can come up with. These cracks also, at times, are more visible than at others. Take, for example, how we are willing to ban people from riding to Sea View on motorbikes on New Year’s — as if we have some sort of ownership over the Arabian Sea itself. Or when someone like Sahir Lodhi points out, albeit it true filmi fashion, that those who go to watch films in Bambino and Nueplex cinemas go there for much the same reason. As much as I may be smiling to myself as I recall his words — the gentleman does have a point. I, too, have been forced to sit up and listen. For who do we think we are when we decide who is cheap and who is not based on superficialities such as the clothes people wear, the neighbourhoods they live in or the films they choose to go and watch? Furthermore, why are we so very surprised when we meet someone from, say, Lyari, whose talents extend beyond the sports field, for want of a better example.

You would all do well to understand this as the commonality of thought running through the city. And having done this — then, there really is no need to be surprised when basic services differ from neighbourhood to neighbourhood. Indeed, why do we continue to be shocked at the distinct records of municipal service delivery, whether in terms of water supplies of the police?

This surely needs to change, though, doesn’t it? And, actually, I have a great idea of where to start. Imagine the scene: the Super Savari Express starts tours going from one side of the city to another. I kid ye not! This might be the only way for Karachiites to fully appreciate that there are no differentials when it comes to intellect and respectability. *Or even better, our erstwhile city government can arrange, as part of full confidence-building measures, exchange trips where one group of influential characters would visit a particular area and have another group visit theirs. Put simply, the city of Karachi hasn’t just been long divided along ethno-religious lines — it has also been deeply divided along man-made class lines, based on the sheer chance of location. And this is simply the result of ill-founded prejudice.

Security has been returning to this megalopolis over the last year, following serious clampdowns by the city’s law enforcement agencies. But it’s about time warmth and compassion return, too. And, Dear Reader, the responsibility for this rests with us. In this regard, we are the final authority.

The writer is a Karachi-based social media analyst/trainer