She was beautiful, and broken all at the same time. She was the ebb and flow of the arabian sea, the rich taste of chaat on a cool evening. She was brightly coloured lights dancing around the trees on chand raat, she was hope on a cloth of deep green and white. She was light raindrops that fell softly, and rarely. She was dressed up in reds, and greens and yellows on the night of a wedding. She was dirt roads outside gizri, and an underpass connecting us to unity, faith and discipline. She was you, and me and everything else put together. She was Karachi.
– To the city that never falls
You are not alone, you never will be. You may be falling, but we’re here to catch you. You feel like things do not seem like they can get better at this moment, but they can. and they will because Karachi, you are strong, you are brave. You have fought through so much and yet, you will fight again. You will never fall.
When Karachi comes to my mind, I instantly imagine loud traffic jams, bustling streets, rickshaws, fruit and vegetable carts, the sea and the warm hazy glow of the sun. But above all this comes my safe zone. and today – even though it feels like Karachi is anything but safe, I know that it will gain its strength again, it will unite, it will prosper once again like it used to, back into my safe zone, my place, my hometown.
Karachi. Where the people are passionate, resilient, and unwavering in their patriotism. Where you travel to the passport office to have the best kachoris and take the long route to school just to pass by seaview at its warmest. Where there is so much creativity, yet so much fear trapping it. So much culture, yet backwardness preventing it. Where there are rare tourists seen enjoying the encapsulating thrill the city vibrates, and at the same time there are locals striving to keep up that thrill. Where you wake up early on a Sunday morning to have halwa puri and chai at dera and go to bed late at night just to hear the celebratory sounds of a cricket win. Where if you look past all the flaws, the dirt, the broken paths; you see the beauty. You see the history frayed in the edges of old buildings, the culture caught between the bustle of a sidewalk street. Where strangers are connected by a love for the city. Where there is so much pain yet there are enough smiles to cover it up. . Karachi, Where there is so much love, and all you can do is keep it alive.