Karachi needs democratisation of power and robust accountability mechanisms

By Raza Rumi:

Karachi’s mayhem in the past few days has exposed, once again, the primary issue of the megapolis — a weak, encroached state. The city has grown in numbers and is now home to millions of Pakistanis of all varieties. Its cosmopolitanism and centrality to Pakistan’s economy means that Pakistan cannot remain unaffected if its largest city is not functioning well.

July has been a bloody month. However, this is not the first time when the city has been subjected to ethnic-bloodbaths. A week ago, the Muttahida Qaumi Movement (MQM) walked out of the federal and provincial governments and this was a signal to all and sundry that the tenuous and uneasy peace between the various power-brokers in Karachi would be affected or at the worst torn asunder.

This is precisely what happened. A strike followed the decision and over 100 people were killed in various low-income settlements comprising mohajirs (migrants), Pakhtuns and others. Public transport remained at a standstill and innocent citizens were targeted by death squads of major political parties which mobilise people around ethnic and linguistic identities. The underlying class-divides among major ethnic groups is also an issue to be explored. The biggest city alas is also the most under-researched region of Pakistan. (more…)

Who says Pakistani literature was a relic of the past? If anything, Pakistani authors have a global audience today, and our writers are now the greatest harbingers of Pakistan’s complexity and nuance in a way that the embedded media can scarcely fathom.

The first literary festival took off in our cosmopolitan melting pot, Karachi, in March. The Oxford University Press’ dynamic head Ameena Saiyid, and the British Council, together organised this event. Asif Farrukhi, the premier litterateur of the metropolis was central to the festival. Farrukhi’s comprehensive command of Urdu and English literary currents, and the stature which he has earned with his hard work, ensured that we were all set for a fabulous gala.

Earlier, the festival faced the usual hurdles: the Indians were issued visas rather late in the day and my friend Sadia Dehlvi was denied a visa at the last minute, despite earnest efforts by the organisers. The iron curtain was rigidly in place. But the other regional and international delegates arrived as planned. The last minute finalisation of the schedule meant that due notice could not be given to many participants. However, the OUP team, especially Raheela Baqai, were adept at getting things done. Saiyid herself used Facebook to advertise the event. She’s obviously keeping up with technology and its changing frontiers.

We arrived just in time for the launch ceremony that was held at the British Consulate. It was quite a journey from the Carlton Hotel to old-world Clifton – a mini-bus that dazzled with literary icons of our time: Iftikhar Arif, Intezar Hussain, Masood Ash’ar and Shamsur Rehman Farooqi from the world of Urdu. The front seats were occupied by the petite and resplendent Bapsi Sidhwa, the contemplative Zulfiqar Ghose and the younger British Pakistani writer Sarfaraz Manzoor, whose book ‘Greetings From Bury Park’ has created waves across the English reading (more…)

Ghazi Salahuddin’s write up for the NEWS makes interesting points about the festival and also mentions me as one lost between the English and Urdu worlds

Far from the unruly crowds we watch on our news channels, playing hide and seek with an equally enraged and rowdy police, a select group of book lovers was able to retreat, during the last weekend, to the wonderland of literature. This, of course, was the Karachi Literature Festival sponsored by the Oxford University Press and the British Council. And all of us who were there were grateful for a memorable experience.

The two-day festival was held at a hotel tucked into a corner in Defence, by the side of the creek. It also bills itself as a resort. In that sense, being there did enforce a sense of distance from the disarray that pervades our daily existence. It was, thus, a lot of fun, and real pleasure was derived from casual encounters that flourished on the sidelines, with so many distinguished Pakistani writers and poets in attendance.

Now, when I underline this manifestly elitist aspect of the festival, I am not being critical of how it was designed. In fact, the location made the festival possible in spite of security concerns and the overall ambience greatly facilitated the discourse on otherwise rather sombre issues. Besides, the balance in the audience did tilt towards the readers of English and they could find easy access to the location. This is what would be expected of an event organised by the OUP and the British Council. (more…)

Amina Baig writes for the NEWS:

When driving through the jungle of buildings, complicated maze of cars and billboards mushrooming around the Karachi skyline; randomly spurted words and images often catch one’s eye. Karachi’s version of graffiti is usually just writing on the wall announcing which teeny-bopper gang is at odds with whom, who sucks, who rocks and so on. Every now and then though, something that can actually be considered art because of its visual or conceptual value crops up. (top right- Asim Butt)

Over the last few months, a symbol that has now become part of the Karachiite visual vocabulary has been creeping across almost any and everything in the city. A red triangle upon a rectangle – an eject sign, which according to Asim Butt, artist and stenciller of many of these signs is “multivalent.”

Asim’s graffiti was spurred on by the imposition of emergency in Pakistan in November 2007. However the message was not singular, nor was it a reaction to a single event. (more…)

This sounds like an exciting initiative. A newly established space – The Second Floor - holds much promise. This is what the website has to say:

Coffeehouse tradition is all about sparking conversations – and we’re passionate about providing a platform for people to engage with each other. Our society is insular and inhibited and we intend to break that mould. Through regular events such as poetry readings, book signings, workshops, talks, debates, film screenings, unplugged music sessions, and stand-up comedy, we hope to get people to think, question, and take action.

I have to visit t2f on my next trip to Karachi. Such developments always reaffirm my faith in the innate buoyancy of Karachi and its citizenry. I refuse to accept the analyses that predict all doom and gloom for Karachi.

Or maybe I am just a fool…

Aggrieved by the recent sinister, senseless violence and brutal murders in Pakistan, this is my feeble attempt at poetic expression. I have also trans-created this Urdu poem below titled Adrift.

Jal gaya  tha ik roshniyon ka shaher
Bujh gaye kitnay jaltay aur adh-jalay chiragh
Magar kotwaal-i-shaher ne mur kar na dekha

Jism kis ka, khoon kahan aur maut kaisee?

Yeh qatl na tha dosto
Yeh qatl hai ik ehad ka
Yeh nohaa hai insaniyat ka

Insaniyat ka khatma karnay walay jantay nahee
Insaan marta hai – bhujta nahee

Ahle-hawas aur ahle-dil
Huay sab ke sab, aseer-i-shab-i-siyah

aur ham
roshniyon ke muntazir
bhujtey jugnoo-on ko dhoondtay
thakay haray

gharon ka rasta bhool gaye

Adrift

Once a city of lights, stands ruined
Lamps – lit and half-lit, all extinguished
And the guardians of the city, unmoved

Which body, what blood and whose death?

This was not a murder my friends
This was the murder of our times
A prolonged elegy of humanity

Those hell-bent on erasing humanity, are, unaware
Man dies but cannot be lost

The bleeding hearts and the hearts with no remorse
All trapped in the darkness of the night

And we the forlorn
Wait for the light
Attempting to seek dying fireflies
Tired, exhausted

Lost on our way home…

I am grateful to my long lost friend Zaman for sharing these remorseful lines from Ibn-e-Insha, the great Urdu poet and writer.

I am posting the original version in Urdu along with a maladroit translation (attempted by this author).

Meri Hasratoon ka Roma
Meri Wehshatoon ka Deli
Mera Baldia Karachi

Mujhey Aur Kon Janey
Yehi dey to dey Gawahi
Key Haseen Sooratoon say
Yahan her gali bharee thee.

Translation

The Rome of my unfulfilled desires
The Delhi of my wildernesses
My city Karachi

Who else knows me?
Only Karachi can testify
Beautiful faces, once,
lived here on every street

Image above is from here

Thought of Shakespeare while being depressed with events in Pakistan.

When sorrows come, they come not single spies, but in battalions!

I am posting Fatima Hasan’s poem Beautiful Bird that has received much international acclaim.

Read the poem here

Each time one visits Karachi the sprawling metropolis seems more run down. Crumbling infrastructure, notwithstanding the recent improvements, and a sense of neglect are apparent to any visitor.

Full entry here >>