Saturday 18 June 2016

Echoes of Karachi

Weeks, then months passed. Karachi kept calling out my name to listen to her tales of bygones. But although I had started the blog with the intention of sharing the echoes of the city and my time from the exploration of Karachi, I couldn't keep up, because well, life happened!
I moved on, busy building other dreams, but my loyal friend Karachi stayed, waiting for me to return once again to trail my fingers over the rough yellow brick walls blackened with smog, to gaze at the carved decaying balconies in the early hours of the morning when the city is yet to wake up, to listen to its woeful stories again. 

Going down the memory lane, I struggled to find images buried deep within the dark confines of the mind. The struggle was futile. Time had erased what the eyes witnessed once, when my mornings were spent exploring parts of Karachi where few women venture. Disappointed, I made one last effort to retrieve any lingering silhouettes of long forgotten structures of what is now just dilapidated brick and mortar, and I heard a voice: "What you are looking for is not for the mind to remember, but for the heart to hold it close to its bosom and cherish forever."

There it was! Like an old classic played when I opened up my heart to share it with the world. Images of the long forgotten tales embedded in arches, courtyards, jharokas, winding spiral staircases. My heart fluttered at the first glimpse of 'Duarte Mansion' standing silently almost oblivious to the passersby. I tried to recall my weak resolution to convert the tone of this blog into a professional crisp one; but how could I? This, had always been a labour of love. It had sentiments, nostalgia, endless afternoons spent on foot in the winding lanes of old parts of the city. How could I detach myself and create something that was not true to its essence? 

Once again, I embraced the passion I had for my heritage. Karachi was calling out my name, and all those passionate about the city, and those who take a few minutes out of their time to read this, deserved the very core of the initiative to be shared honestly. They deserved to know how it all started with a little girl who spent day after day for years looking out of the car window at the old balconies in Saddar, her nose pressed against the cool glass. It was the usual route every single day back from school, one that gave her the immense delight of a glimpse of Empress market itself. Years later, her passion grew but not without a sense of frustration at the deteriorating conditions of the heritage that the city seemed to have grown oblivious to. Many a times she would visualize herself floating from room to room of an abandoned yellow brick building, the sound of poetry and music emanating from what once was majestic, full of life. 
She wanted to discover more, to immerse herself in finding out what the old structures once held within them - broken promises, signs of life, birth, death, laughter, rituals...
She vowed to start again, exactly from where she left off. Karachi was never to be abandoned again.