City by the Sea: A Time to Visit
By M.Majid Ali, CPA, PMP
Columbus, NJ
The flight touches down at Karachi’s Jinnah International twenty-two years after my last visit. It is 2am and the Hotel car is already at the airport to pick me up. I connect with the driver via a previously agreed verbal security code and he pleasantly acknowledges and off we are to the Avari Towers. On arrival I am politely advised the hotel is booked solid and my room will be ready around 6am. Fortunately, I am able to wait in the Cinnamon lounge and use the restrooms. An attendant walks in a few minutes later with a breakfast menu. I opt for an omelet and tea which arrives 20 minutes later on a hot tray.
At 6:30am the Hotel desk informs me my room is ready. I am lucky to have a room on the 13 th floor with an amazing view overlooking Shahrah e Faisal and Hotel Mehran with the still majestic Quaid-i-Azam house next to it. After catching up on some sleep I venture down to the lobby and a hotel car is arranged to take me into town for a city tour. We hustle through the nearby areas of Shahrah e Faisal, I. I. Chundrigar Road and pass by the Quaid’s Mausoleum on M. A. Jinnah Road. I ask the driver if we are able to park at the mausoleum but apparently and, perhaps by design, the parking is kept far away from the site due to security reasons.
The city is vibrant as ever. Dolmen and Port Grand have gone up. Burns Road and Tariq Road still sizzle with non-stop food, shopping and traffic jams. The tent shops around the historic Empress Market are gone and the green lawns dispense a sanitized picture. Sheraton Hotel has been renamed while Pearl Continental and Avari Towers have held on.
We stop at a Zong office to inquire about getting a local phone and visit a money changer. Service is great but a strict NICOP check is required at both stops. Society is much more documented. We pass by Frere Hall which presents a restored look across from the Marriott Hotel and the venerable 150-year-old Sind Club. As we dodge traffic the three swords roundabout appears and still bears Mr Jinnah’s timeless message of “Unity, Faith, and Discipline” on the white marble. We go over to Defense Housing Authority Phase 8 much of which has been reclaimed from the sea and luxury towers have gone up by the beach. Throughout the city new high rises cover the old ones behind them. Flyovers, underpasses and bypasses abound and, at times, render the landscape unrecognizable to the returning resident. We get out and walk through some stores along the way. People are warm and friendly, notwithstanding the city’s massive challenges. We return to the hotel for lunch.
In the late afternoon I venture out to see the first set of relatives and on the way stop at the GPO near Cantt Station. I need to mail a 20kg package to Islamabad and walk up to the counter of the empty GPO office. The clerk at the counter is a pleasant man and quickly quotes me a very reasonable Rs 700 and even offers to help me pack the contents in a cardboard box that he fetches from the storeroom. He hands me a receipt for Rs 700. Before I can leave, he states he forgot to put the Rs 200 charge for the box on the receipt. I make the payment and we drive off.
On the ride back to the hotel we take a detour towards M. A. Jinnah Road and the area of Mithadar. We leave the car in an open spot and walk the rest of the narrow tracks to the central offices of Edhi Foundation. Hiding here on a dusty unpaved alley of a ramshackle market is the headquarters of the world’s largest volunteer network of 1,800 ambulances and three aircraft. Built from nothing by Abdus Sattar Edhi it caters to everyone. No questions asked about religion, ethnicity, or political affiliation. It is awe-inspiring to be here. We engage with the front desk in the unguarded and modest offices and15 minutes later return to the car.
Over the next few days I make more stops at relatives as we catch-up on family matters and exchange gifts. Due to Covid, things are kept low key and folks are considerate to arrange home-cooked food. One aunt remembers I liked her Shaami Kababs from decades ago, so she thoughtfully cooks me some. Another relative remembers I like nihari and haleem so they make me some. Yet other relatives take me to Clifton’s BBQ Tonight which seems to be following enough SOPs to make us feel comfortable.
One evening my cousins come to meet me in the Hotel lobby and graciously hand me gifts for other family members. The hearty welcome of relatives and everyday people in Karachi is perceptible. People here give you time. I stop and smell the flowers.
Habib Public School is my timeless alma mater, so we make a stop one day. It still looks nice, and a few new buildings have gone up. I am delighted to find that one of my former teachers is now the Head of Admissions. We recount the old days and take a few pictures in front of the Astroturf that has been acquired for one of the old hockey grounds. Fond memories abound of a time when I used to represent the “Yellow House” hockey team. I wonder if the school will again produce the likes of Sohail Abbas, Hasan Sardar and Safdar Abbas? On the way back the driver tells me that a visit to Karachi is not complete without a visit to a genuine dhaba. It is almost lunch time, so he takes me to a simple outlet near Cantt Station. We try the maash dal. It is incredible. I see a day laborer sitting on the nearby bench with a steaming plate of biryani and I can’t help but ask him how it tastes, and he remarks that “It’s a blessing from God.” Indeed.
My NICOP is expiring soon so when we pass the NADRA office one afternoon near the giant Imtiaz Supermarket in the Korangi Industrial Area I am tempted to ask the driver to pull in. There are about 20 people in line outside. I hustle up to the gate coordinator to first find out if my renewal can actually be handled at the office before standing blindly in line for a long time. He responds by stating that I need to bring my brother, sister or spouse to the office for signature verification. Unable to get my point across to him that they all reside abroad and would not be able to come to the Nadra-Korangi office anytime soon I get back in the car and we drive on.
Another morning as I browse the digital version of Dawn news in the Cinnamon Lounge while waiting for the Hotel car there is yet another incredible fund-raising story by a Pakistani Tech start-up. Apparently, 2021 has been the best year on record for the Pakistani Tech industry having raised $250 million which is more than the previous six years combined. Hard working domestic and returning talent from abroad along with a developing infrastructure are the drivers. Players like Tazah Technologies, Airlift, Bazaar, Food Panda, Careem, Daraz and others are transforming the market. Much of the funding is being channeled by foreign investors.
Just as in the West, widely available technology is enabling the common man to enter competition and disrupt the grip of established giants on capital, bureaucracy and regulations. Relative newcomers like Microsoft, Google, Apple and Amazon now rival or exceed the market cap of century old established giants like General Electric, IBM, Exxon and Macy’s. Liberated by the availability of technology, people are more entrepreneurial, work harder and provide better products and services at a lower price while keeping more of their profits. This is a paradigm shifter. Will the Tech industry replicate India’s success in this sector and lift entire segments of society out of poverty?
Covid has played havoc with the city, particularly the salaried class and those who are unable to work from home ,or have little or no savings. There is no government safety net but people are determined to put food on the table. The day laborers are unflinching as they line the early morning streets at dawn in front of shuttered store fronts, their tools neatly arranged in front of them waiting for their turn to be hired for construction projects. Equally undaunted the “ride-hail” operators don their masks and put in 12-hour shifts that they cheerfully maintain. For those who own their cars, their new entrepreneurship frees them from the shackles of overbearing employers who in the past would keep most of the profits to themselves. Human dignity restored, they gladly work more hours, make better money, and provide efficient service.
One day I am told by the Hotel Car desk that there is a plethora of foreign guests and no cars are available. The attendant dials me a Careem car. As the blue car pulls up, a pleasant man greets me and off we go to visit my cousin in DHA Phase 8. I am unable to provide directions as this area has been reclaimed from the sea but the driver is able to use his phone-based navigation. My cousin and his wife are waiting, and we exchange greetings and catch up on family happenings. Other guests turn up and as lunch time arrives we are treated to a sumptuous homemade meal followed by Karachi’s famous rabri. Lunch is also sent out for the Careem operator waiting outside.
Knowing “ride-hail” operators may not want to wait for long periods I go outside to see if he would like to finalize the bill and go to his next customer but instead he turns the app timer off stating he is aware that the hotel is out of cars and he will stay with me till my business is finished and I can pay him any reasonable amount when we return to the hotel. I am grateful for his gesture considering he can easily leave me at the house to find his next ride at the nearby Dolmen Mall. Later in the afternoon as I return to the hotel I try to tip him a little extra but he declines. I am deeply appreciative. From this point onward I retain his daily services instead of the hotel car and he is happy to oblige. I am reminded of the character of “Fred” in Mark Sanborn’s international best seller, “The Fred Factor.” In his book Sanborn narrates the true story of a mail worker named Fred who always ventures the extra mile and is concerned for the people he serves. While others see a postal worker’s role as being dull, he sees it as a chance to help others and treats everyone as a friend.
At the Avari breakfast hall I develop a daily practice of ordering a custom omelet every day through the special order window. The first two mornings the chef happily obliges. The third day as I walk into the hall, the chef has caught up with my routine and he beckons me with a bright smile towards the counter where he has already prepared a delicious omelet. I am thrilled and as I return to the lounge, I gather some hotel stationary and write up a commendation letter for his thoughtful enterprise. On my request the Hotel desk is able to call the Restaurant Manager from the back offices and I hand him the commendation letter. He is equally thrilled and promises to recognize the employee. I marvel at how the pride of individual ownership and performance that exists in the Private Sector renders it so much more efficient.
Three days before my flight out of Karachi and having completed most of my rounds with relatives I finally turn to visiting “The Citizens Foundation” (an education NGO) so I give them a call in the morning to see if I could visit their offices. An invitation is issued for the next morning along with a car service which I politely decline not wanting to use donor funds. When I arrive at the offices the next day, I am seated in their conference room where the “Deputy Manager of Global Partners” proceeds to brief me on the nearly 1,700 professionally managed schools. The annual operating budget is approaching Rs 5 billion. Another gentleman soon joins us and chimes in on how the textbooks are internally developed and updated and how teachers undergo 80 hours of annual professional training (120 hours for new teachers.) I am impressed. They offer to show me two of their nearby operating schools but I promise to come back the next day as I have an afternoon appointment to visit the graveyard. Twelve or so family members have gone over to the other side while I was away for 22 years.
The next morning I return to the Citizens Foundation offices where the “Deputy Manager-Global Partners” is waiting for me. We travel about 7 minutes to the Qayyumabad schools located in an unprivileged area where the students are local residents and can mostly walk to the school. Two local administrators greet us and show us around. Classes are in session, so we are careful not to disturb them as we walk down the corridors. Students in higher classes sit on chairs but the younger classes sit on the floor. I am told it leads to better interaction amongst the younger children. Admissions policy is first come first served and irrespective of ethnicity, religion and financial status. Tuition is kept under Rs 300 a month. Students are charged according to financial ability (many as little as Rs 10/month) but still charged nominal amounts to develop a recognition for the value of education, encourage attendance and avoid a “handout” system. Sublime.
I am told the schools are built to serve the working class. Sessions are offered for both morning and afternoons to accommodate students working to support their families. Female enrollment is 50% and the teachers are all female to encourage girls to attend. Religious, ethnic and gender tolerance is fostered in a co-educational environment. Given Covid realities, arrangements have been made for staggered classes as well as learning via mobile phones. I learn that given the Foundation’s high standards the Sindh Government has asked them to take over and run some of their faltering schools. School officials continue to deliver an impressive set of facts: They are also the largest employers of women in Pakistan’s private sector. Multiple schools are opening periodically and furnished and built through established partnerships with vendors. I am shown the Annual Report. Audits are conducted by the globally reputable Price Waterhouse and their local partners AF Ferguson. Form 990-Ts are even filed in the United States for any funds raised abroad. As a CPA I am thrilled by the due diligence. Thoroughly impressed I thank my trip organizers and promise my support.
On the penultimate day after bidding farewell to some relatives near Seaview the driver convinces me to make a stop at the Sufi Saint Abdullah Shah Ghazi’s shrine. His final resting place has been located in Karachi since his passing in 773 AD. His followers built his dargah on a hilltop overlooking the sea in what is now known as the Clifton section of Karachi and where he is believed to have arrived centuries ago on an Arab ship. In recent times the facility has been expanded and rebuilt. There is a long set of stairs leading upwards towards the mausoleum at a somewhat steep angle. No comparison intended but for a moment as I take the upward walk, I reminisce about the similarly lofty aperture of Akbar’s Buland Darwaza at Fatehpur Sikri. Folklore has it that for over 1,248 years the Sufi Saint has deflected angry sea storms and cyclones away from Karachi’s coast. Surely, he has seen off much more than unruly weather systems given all that the city has seen over the last few decades.
On my final morning in the city the sky outside my balcony window is a magical orange as the sun breaks through. Eagles circle the Hotel Mehran across Shahrah e Faisal. As the sun climbs overhead the morning orange is gradually consumed by the sun’s intense brightness. Shahrah e Faisal fills up with cars. Traffic accelerates and the city gears up for business. People and markets take their positions. The nearby Cantt Station resumes welcoming the daily throngs that arrive on trains from upcountry in search of a better life as the city has always done. The decibel level goes up and in a rising crescendo the massive Karachi engine that still powers the country and pays most of its taxes reverberates and comes to life. Much remains the same. Karachi is still here with the Arabian Sea faithfully close by its side. Abdullah Shah looks on. A time to visit.
(The author is a CPA, banker and freelance writer living in the greater New York City area and a former resident of Karachi)
