Karachi Diary -- Meri ball do!

Violence has been an existential reality for our city. The waves of violence are etched in most memories, whether it be the ethnic clashes of the 80s and 90s, the sectarian clashes of mid and late 90s, or the spill over from the ‘War against terror’ of the last decade.

However, back in the 90s, when I was a zealous teenager, cricket was a religious ritual that commenced at 4.30pm each day – during mild winters and excruciating summers – regardless of the city’s law and order situation.

Playing cricket on the streets and dreams of emulating the Imran Khan’s cornered tigers (of 1992 World Cup fame) was a dream everyone nurtured irrespective of skill and ability. The greatest threat, then, was an irate uncle or aunty who would try to clear us off in order to enjoy the siesta; or those rare loathsome grouches who would refuse to return the tennis ball if it landed in their house or apartment. But they were a minority, and our cricket teams often had local patrons who would finance our equipment; a few lucky teams even had their portable set of stumps with bails.

It was unheard of back then to think twice before stepping out of the house and walking unconcerned towards the de facto cricket pitch that was usually in one of the lanes, with at least one boundary stretching upto the main road.

Maybe it was because there were no cellular phones back then, and we only had enough money to get us a drink or the tape for the ball.

Nowadays, stepping out requires certain considerations. Duration and mode of travel, kind of location (whether main road or lane) and the time at which he step out are variables that have to be considered to ensure that no untoward incident takes place. Paranoia also features as those who have had been held-up often believe that they are being followed.

The fear of the unknown has crept into our collective psyche; we are forever wary of the ‘other’.

Even playing cricket with the same people on the same streets is no longer the same. Back then, the setting of the sun would end our cricket, but the teams would usually cool off at the local general store and discuss matches against teams from other areas.

Now, wrapping up begins just before sunset as everyone prefers to be off the streets even before darkness begins its descent.

In the 90s, the threat of ethnic and sectarian violence was much closer. Every couple of months, there would be a funeral in the area in which the person had either been a victim of target killing for his beliefs, or ‘collateral damage’ during an upsurge in violence.
Such developments, however, would not disrupt our routine for more than a day. In present times, the violence is often far-off; and pitched battles are fought in the peripheral localities of the city. But fear has gripped everyone.

While cricket continues to thrive on the streets, especially on holidays, there has been a change in approach: one has to be on the look-out at all times.

The worst reaction has been of the elders. Their solution for all problems is to stay at home. Those residing in the vicinity, too, have turned against street cricketers; and the most common point of conflict comes when a ball now lands inside someone else’s residence. Invariably, the response is ‘go away’; whether this is due to the fear that those asking for the ball could be ‘someone else’ or it is part of a new philosophy of ‘minimum interaction’ remain moot points, but one thing is clearly established: the balls would not be returned no more.

Karachi Diary - I

Surveillance begins at home

The culture of bribery has sometimes been justified – by those brazenly demanding it – as a consequence of the poor pay-scales prevalent in the police force. However, former Inspector General (IG) Sindh Police Niaz Ahmed Siddiqui unequivocally stated that the incidentals of serving in the police force – which includes residence, utilities, education and health care for the entire household – make up more than enough for the pitiful salaries, especially of the lower cadres.

Despite that, it has been confirmed through multiple sources that no effort is spared by the police, including maltreatment, intimidation and even torture, to coerce complainants into making illegitimate payments for even registering a First Information Report (FIR).

For the majority of citizens, the police apparatus is a hostile body and suggest that one should only venture into a police station if one enjoys any political influence or has the right connections. Only then is one treated in an appropriate manner. Seeking assistance from the police is often written off as hopeless but being the upholders of law, one is left with no choice but to approach them; which raises the question whether there is any solution that can remedy the behavior and performance of the forces.

And there is a solution: Surveillance. It implies installation of security cameras at various vantage points inside the police station to monitor the behavior of the officers and the events taking place inside. Considering the current state of the force, many think it is only through vigilance can the reformation of these vigilantes brought about.

The incumbent Capital City Police Officer for Karachi, Mr Waseem Ahmed, welcomed the suggestion – along with the review board formed of members of civil society – and stated that it would surely enhance the efficacy and performance of police stations provided the government provides the finances to implement such a system.

While former IG Mr Siddiqui agreed that the idea would help improve the performance and efficiency of the police force, he opined that 'surveillance' was a misnomer and 'in-house supervision' was a more appropriate term. He was also opposed to the idea of a separate body serving as a watchdog and suggested that the central or main police station should review the footage. He insisted that the objective of any such exercise should be to help the police and to bridge gaps between the local community and the police force, removing malfunctioning and malpractices rather than to create a body that could in anyway compromise the authority of the police force.

While the top tier of the force has acknowledged the possibility of such a project, a sub-inspector expressed reservations over the possible benefits of such a project. Chaudhry Muhammad Atta, Sub-Inspector posted at the Artillery Maidan police station, contented that the resources could be put to better use for the benefit of the

forces rather than creating an unnecessary supervisory body that would have little impact on performance.

But do we have the resources and wherewithal to implement such a system? Mr Muhammad Faheem Qureshi, whose firm GCS has installed cameras across various routes of the city for the City District Government Karachi, says that such a project could be implemented; he also pointed out that the technology also provides the option of on-site recording or recording at a dedicated central location, which in this instance could be the main police station or any other location as per the modalities of the project.

Ordinary citizens also say that it could drastically alter the treatment meted out at police stations. Qasim, a university student, said he would be willing to champion the idea on his university campus if such a need arises. His fellow students, too, welcomed the idea and said it should be implemented at the earliest. Furqan, a lawyer, opined that it would save a lot of time and trouble for citizens as policemen would be aware that their actions are under scrutiny. Qurut-ul-Ain, a journalist, while calling it a step in the right direction, said that more than surveillance is required to improve service at police stations. Mehreen, a developmental worker, emphasized the need for a transparent supervisory body and said that if the project is effective, it could be replicated at other public sector offices as well.

The private sector has benefited through surveillance in terms of efficiency and also as a superficial archive of employee behavior and performance. Surveillance cameras at police stations, irrespective of locality, can result in a modicum of respectability and hope for aggrieved citizens. While enterprising soldiers would surely find corners to carry out their misdemeanors, complainants will at least know that Closed Circuit Television (CCTV) will serve as a repository of visual evidence against any unnecessary demands made or problems created by the officers on duty.

While it is foolish to expect an overhaul of the system, such an implementation would be testimony of the willingness of those in power that they desire positive change. And it is not necessary to plant cameras in stations across the city. The experiment could be started with a few stations: the best and the worst performing ones. If there is any improvement in performance, then the proposed solution can be implemented further until the entire city's force is under scrutiny.

Obviously, such an undertaking requires a huge budget overlay. But many believe it would be a worthwhile investment and one which could have a possible ripple effect; and eventually result in the transformation and possible reformation of the entire public sector – and cameras under the table.

Karachi Diary -- More

Hand it all over!


Karachi is justifiably notorious for street crimes. My peers and I have had frequent encounters of hold-ups, while every few days someone at the workplace narrates a harrowing-yet-quick ordeal which left them without a cellular phone or without a car for a night or two after which the car would be found minus the speakers and music system, the CNG kit and other removables.

While I have heard the most outlandish of robbery stories, nothing braced me for what was in store. Recently, a friend had told my group of how a couple sat in his car and made him drive around while they had alcohol. They left off my friend after having made him drive around for three hours and hitting him not so hard once with the pistol’s butt. There were other stories, too, in which invariably the cellular phone was taken away.

Having heard the story, I was being overly cautious while driving, especially in comparatively deserted streets. It was a summer evening, and I was in Defence Phase VI, turning on a street off Khayaban-e-Mujahid, when I was hit from behind by a silver Cultus. I cursed myself for ignoring my driving in trying to be vigilant against robbers. Two seemingly apologetic young-men got off from the car and I was about to get off when they suddenly got in my car and showed me the gun.

I acquiesced. They asked me to hand over the wallet and then drive around. They extracted my two debit cards and directed me towards the closest ATM. I did their bidding. Gently, they relieved me of my limit of Rs.10,000 each from both the cards, took my cellular phone and took possession of my removable music system. Out of generosity, they let me have the Rs200 lying in my wallet.

I was asked to drive back towards a commercial area. As soon as we reached the market in Defence Phase VI, they directed me into various lanes. There were a couple of cars waiting at the turn ahead and they coolly ordered me to follow a blue car driven by a single female. Once we reached a comparatively deserted route, they asked me to bump in the car ahead of me in the same manner as they had bumped into my car.

With so much already lost, I was not going to protest for the well-being of my car’s front bumper. I bumped into her car. My two tormentors got off with the same seemingly apologetic smile, as the other driver turned around and I was given an exasperated look.

I noticed her expression change to that of bewilderment first and then horror as she drove off with my two erstwhile passengers. I shrugged and drove off to my initial destination.

Karachi Diary

The valley of brutes

On a scorching hot afternoon, I was headed towards work after having lunch with a friend who resides in Bath Island. While I was taking a left as I emerged at the ‘Do Talwar’ roundabout, the signal opened for the cars coming from the direction of Schon Circle’s underpass.

A new Honda Civic screeched and raced forward. The sound made me instinctively turn, and what I witnessed in that milli-second defied logic. The car crashed into a lady who had started crossing the road from in-front of me as she came out of Hilal-e-Ahmer hospital and headed towards Chartered Accountants avenue, but the white Civic did not offer her much opportunity and knocked her out before she could even finish crossing the first half of the road.

On impact, the lady flew straight up around 8-10 feet and landed back on the car’s bonnet. A traffic sergeant was at the location and I, from my position that had become static due to the shock, could see him haranguing the car owner.

I was about to get off to go help the lady, who seemed to be in her late forties, when she got up and walked to the pavement that divides the road into two. Simultaneously, the Civic was allowed to go by the traffic sergeant.

What transpired between the sergeant and the Civic driver would remain a mystery, but my eyes keenly followed the wobbly movement of the lady as she shakily sat down on the pavement to regain her wits. I could not understand how she managed to stand up and walk even such a short distance after the battering her legs must have had felt on impact. Plus, she flew up and then landed on the car’s bonnet. While her landing did not appear awkward, it was still a major fall and she must have broken a few ribs.

Kudos to that woman who got her bearings in order, made sure her chador continued to cover her and walk with dignity to the closest place to offer some respite. I drove off thinking the same when I caught up with the same Civic on the Clifton Bridge.

Indignant as I was, I decided to glare at the callous driver who had driven off after possibly paying off the sergeant. Expecting to see an unruly teenager, I was shocked even further to see a woman in her late-20s driving the car – something in her reminded me of the suburban SUV driving football moms that have emerged of late in US popular culture.

However, I was still appalled by her decision to not stay behind and check with the lady if she had any serious injuries. Despite being of the gentler sex, this woman chose to save herself from the hassle of hospitals, police stations, insurance etc., albeit at cost of another person.

I can only assume that there is something alienating in being type-cast as a ‘driver’ on the roads of Karachi that turns the most kind of creatures into complete brutes.

Rest in Pieces...

I thought I would write an elegy for those unfortunate ones who lost their lives.......on October 18th, the day the Bibi of the East returned from her exile....but I couldn't decide to whom it should be addressed. The majority of the dead were supporters of the PPP....but surely, a lot of them had been paid to attend the rally. People who were just trying to earn their bread through creative endeavor. Splintered people with divided loyalties....and now bodies, too. Then there were the party members holding various posts.....senior members now that they are dead. Some curious onlookers even. Now distorted beyond recoginition.

It was the biggest rally that the city has seen for sometime. There have been 'million marchs' before, but they never made it to a hundred thousand. BB probably had half a million show up on the roads to greet her - mostly paid maybe - but still it was a great show of strength for a party that has managed to thoroughly discredit itself at every opportunity.

Marx said religion is the opiate of the masses. Milan Kundera thinks its hope.....atleast in 'The Joke'. From the look of things, in my country, both are true...and maybe a few others, too. Not hinting towards the pitiable evolutionary track that the mashra treads upon, just on how things stand.

Why else would people put so much stock in out-dated slogans. 'Roti, Kapra aur Makan' - (Food, Shelter and Clothing) still is the desired end for most of the country's population. As it was in the 70's when Bhutto ascended to the throne and played Caesar without a tiara and sometimes exuding Mao's aura.

Now his daughter is back...once again. And her return hsa already seen nearly 150 people dead and scores injured in two horrific bomb blasts that targeted her procession. The toll could have been much worse. In a blink shorter than a butterfly flapping wings, bloood flew all over. Bodies and bones and a lot more. They were dying. Benazir was rushed to her destination. Cars trampled over bodies. And for those brave ones who were still trying to savor their last breaths...take with them whatevery they could of life and freedom and free will.....it must have been a back-breaking sight...if there was a back...and if it had not been broken. For it was the leader who was to be preserved. They were foot-soldiers and they could lie in pools of drying blood....but when you're breathing your last, you see no difference between the pauper and king...as long as both are breathing. And in those last fleeting glances, they would have known. What they were trying to stand up for - if at all - was nothing but a charade. An attempt at political mileage. Not that BB has not had her own personal heartbreaks. She lost her father and two brothers in a manner that would breakdown even Margaret Thatcher. But she has stood on...but she has also enjoyed the perks of martyrdom. Bhutto continues to have a dominating legacy. Murtaza Bhutto still evokes nostalgic sigh....his death continues to be a mystery. And the forgotten Shahnawaz.....the dandy......is coffee-table for conspiracy hatchers. Yes, she has lost...but she has gained, too. In dollars and pounds and swiss bank accounts. But the special reconciliation ordinance has pardoned her.

But what about those poverty-stricken loyalists who believe in hollow promises of the prophets of politics. They come from urban slums, mostly. And now they are dead. Mere names. And numbers, too. Sadly, this isn't the last. Forutnately, the backlash has not been as severe as it was when it was MQM who were attacked. Or the Islamists. Then all hell would break lose and kids with sticks and guns would maraud the areas where the mob mentality could be prevailed.

So far, PPP has been circumspect. Will the anger abate? Some fear retaliatory attacks. BB apparently isn't as strongly entrenched to consider one or maybe it's teh absence of Zardari, her beau, Mr. 30 percent. He has already implicated the inteligence agencies. And that's mannah for television channels.

The coverage that the entire episode was disturbing. It might not look out-of-place in a Fox News re-run, but the media the world over lapped it up.

Geo News - Pakistan's leading news channel - was being cut live by Al-Jazeera, BBC, CNN, Sky News and probably Fox News, too. And the Geo anchor even got aired on all the foreign channels due to sharp switching. In his rather handsome clothes.

The day started with Pakistan's most highly paid political pundit, Dr Shahid Masood, Ph.D, giving minute-to-minute update of the going-ons inside the plane. First it was people swapping seats to get closer to the political nexus that was perched in teh first class compartment. Some party-members took up seats in teh first-class section. The captain refused to fly and the people had to be made to go back to their seats. Still, the plane had more people in the front half, and as the luggage had been kept out for security purposes, the plane wasn't balanced, and it caused further delay. And Dr. Masood droned on in his usual manner...but his voice did betray some excitement, as if he was witness to a nuclear conflict unravelling in a crystal maze.

Benazir's plan touched base after much delay and finally there was something to shout about. Her solitary tear made ticker-worthy news and channels clamored to claim that she was crying like a harlot confessing her sins...

Once out, she took position atop her bullet-proof compartment - a sign of courage or maybe foolhardiness in retrospect - but a decision that probably emanated envious grunts from GHQ even. The women has no fear....or shame, they would probably say.

It was all very slow. Four hours and only five kilometers travelled. The most exciting day for the political paparazzis was turning into a test-match. The topical joke, ofcourse, was that only a blast could give the whole occassion a Twenty20 twist. And it came....after much waiting ofcourse. And the news channels had a field day. Even a martyr. An unfortunate camera-man who was scheduled to be posted to London...which means opening up of horizons and dream come true for the struggling middle-class denizens. He wasn't as lucky as the news-channel.

There was a race on the death count. It spiralled from 23 to 36 to 58 to 85 and quickly crossed 100. Channel logo's became black and white.....Geo set the trend after the May 12 carnage and all teh rest had to follow.

There was also a death & injured counter. And the race was as stiff here as it was before. Every 2 minutes, there would be a decrease in the number of injured and increase in death.

There was even a burning fire....just like they had it on fox during yesterday's fire in California. Media was basking in the glory of public misery. Reporters were dissecting teh crime scene. Experts (read: Windbags) postulated theories. Beauracrats issued condemnations. Politicians said nothing......substantial.

The pieces had been picked. But the deaths remain. A number on the screen.

Jim Morrison sang about the end. And it rained napalm in Vietnam. But we are immune to such lessons.

Until the next blast, adieu!