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Karachi: A City's Bittersweet Tale of Resilience and Remembrance
Original text in Urdu by Safeer Ahmad
English version created by C. Naseer Ahmad
I am Karachi, a city afflicted with a tragic fate, yearning to unburden its sorrowful tale to a receptive audience. Alas, there are none willing to lend an ear to my woes. As the eldest among all the cities in my homeland, I stand as a patriarch to my younger siblings, yet my benevolent deeds and amicable nature seem to have been overlooked. I have harbored no animosity, embracing all with open arms, contributing significantly to the founding of this nation, and birthing none other than Quaid-i-Azam himself.
The legacy of that illustrious figure remains etched upon my being, a constant reminder of his absence. My heart aches for his presence, holding my countrymen close within me as a symbol of loyalty and protection. The memory of Quaid perpetually echoes within me, instilling a sense of grandeur and responsibility akin to a vast estate.
If only I had a companion to share the burdens of sustaining our household, as 80% of its expenses fall upon my weary shoulders. Yet, despite the overwhelming weight, I persevere, knowing that the mantle of caretaker rests solely on my shoulders. My arms remain outstretched, a beacon of hope and support for my beleaguered people, ensuring that their paths are lined with joy and prosperity, shielding them from the divisive forces of sectarianism and language.
Once a bastion of peace and harmony, my streets and thoroughfares exuded safety and tranquility akin to a family courtyard, welcoming men and women at all hours without fear. Markets thrived into the late hours, evoking a sense of festivity with every passing night. The unity of all provinces dwelt harmoniously within me, fostering a sense of kinship and togetherness. Karachi blossomed as an oasis of multiculturalism, a melting pot of diverse identities coalescing under one roof. Railway stations stood as testaments to progress, offering affordable and secure travel, while my airport and seaport beckoned the world.
Mumbai, once known as Bombay, may have its moments of pride nowadays. However, here's a fun fact to bring to light - the first-ever Air India flight took off from Karachi on October 15, 1924, giving a unique feather in Karachi's cap!
Honestly, there's something I prefer not to make widely known. The mischievous character, 'T.E. Lawrence,' also known as 'Lawrence of Arabia,' was stationed at the RAF Air Force Base on Drigh Road in 1927-28.
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Oh, my beloved Drigh Road, now called Shahrah-e-Faisal, how it has changed over time. What a shame to see its current state!
I used to stand as the majestic gateway to the East, embodying the intersection of cultures and the beauty of ancient traditions. My once vibrant streets echoed with the hustle and bustle of traders and travelers alike, each bringing their own unique stories and goods to my bustling bazaars. The air was filled with the scent of spices and the sound of bustling markets, creating a sensory tapestry that captivated all who ventured within my domain.
Tourists from every corner of the globe arrived on airlines, drawn by the promise of adventure and discovery. They marveled at the panoramic views of Hawke's Bay, where the sands shimmered under the golden sun, and reveled in the lively energy of Clifton Beach, where the music and laughter never seemed to end. Every step taken on my soil led to a new discovery, a hidden gem waiting to be uncovered.
I stood tall and proud, a beacon of light shining brightly in the darkness, guiding ships to safe harbor and weary travelers to a place of rest. My presence was a symbol of hope and prosperity, a testament to the enduring spirit of humanity and the power of unity in diversity. Though my place in the world may have been overshadowed by newer cities, the echoes of my past glory still linger in the hearts of those who once walked my streets and felt the magic of my embrace.
However, the tides of discontent swept over me, ushering in an era of division and strife. Once-united brethren turned against one another, fracturing my unity along regional, ethnic, and sectarian lines. Mini-cities emerged within my confines, barricading themselves from one another, and fueling a cycle of violence and bloodshed. The cries of my people echoed through the streets, painting a grim tableau of betrayal and savagery.
Despite my earnest pleas for reconciliation, the oppressors remained unmoved, inflicting further anguish upon me and my denizens. Bereft of strength and spirit, I stand as a shadow of my former self, crippled by the weight of discord and neglect. Oh, how my heart aches for the love and respect that once adorned my name, yearning for the days when unity reigned supreme within my walls. The once-vibrant tapestry of Karachi is now stained with strife and division, but hope remains that one day, I, Karachi the city can rise above its trials and reclaim its former glory, shining once more as a beacon of unity and prosperity for all who call it home.
