Pakistan Quarters

The fact that the large colony of government quarters, was called “Pakistan quarters”, was an irony since most of its inhabitants had been in Pakistan only for a few years. The name probably symbolized the fact that it gave shelter to the families of most of the government servants, keeping the administration of the newly formed nation running, Karachi being the capital then. One could find judges, diplomats, police officials, broadcasters, clerks, all living in the hundreds of homes of same size, next to the Gandhi garden.

The small world where I grew up was made up of three or four streets that straddled the main road, which a weather-beaten signboard declared to be “Love lane”. I could never fathom what qualified it for such a romantic name. On one end, was that side of the zoological garden, which had shops on the front, and on the other end was the filthy Lyari naddi, overflowing every time there was a heavy downpour, carrying with it all the worldly possessions of the poor living on its banks.

An integral part of the microcosm that was Pakistan quarters, were the “Jhuggis”, next to it, at some places separated by a loosely defined wall, and at other places scattered among the quarters. The temporary abodes, sheltered, hopes and aspirations of a few hundred families who had left their hearth and homes in India at partition, in the vague hope that they would be able to find the ‘Promised Land’ in the newly found country of their dreams. The families living in the katchi abadi, provided the services which the babus of the quarters needed for their daily needs. There were milkmen, there were shopkeepers, and people of all sorts of trades, eking out an existence by providing services of some kind or the other, learnt at distant lands, and to us children, our excursions into the jhuggis held great fascination because it was a treat watching craftsmen, making wooden tops, in all sizes, made with different types of wood, but the large polished sheesham tops were the most prized ones, which only a few could afford. We the smaller children had to be content with measly ones made from soft wood. There were other craftsmen too, including some who had set up handlooms. The kite shops selling beautifully colored kites and manjhas were also a source of great attraction for the kids.The lady who taught me Koran, also lived among the Jhuggis. The cleanliness with which her family kept their house, in spite of living next to a milkman and his cows, and the neatness of their clothes and bedcovers, bore testimony to the fact they were from a well to do background, and were used to a much better life, before migrating to Pakistan.

There were so many such families, not only around Pakistan Quarters, but all over Karachi, in Lalukhet, Layari, Chakiwara, and every nook and cranny of the city, and sometimes when I think about them, I still feel sorry, because father was a graduate even before partition, and like all other educated migrants adjusted well in the new country. Others were not so fortunate, including a relative of mine, who lived in the squalor of Chakiwara. My mother knowing what a respectable family they belonged to, in Kerala, took great pains to remove the children from the unwholesome environment, and today, thanks to her efforts they are now all well off, the eldest son obtained good technical education, graduated, and is now is serving at a very high post in Karachi.

My mother, brought up in a benevolent landed family in Kerala, takes great pride at mentioning the successes of her relatives, and they also give her due respects for her life-long selfless concern. There were other people also from Kerala, trapped in the impoverished neighbourhoods like that of Chakiwara, perhaps the filthiest locality in Karachi, at that time, but forced to live there, trapped in their poverty . The last time I visited that place, was in 1973, when I was staying with the family of a friend of my father, and also from Kerala, in the posh defence society. Every time I took the bus ride from defence to chakiwara, the experience always left me numb because of the startling contrast between the two worlds. My aunt, would give me a treat of my life feeding me with papodams, fried dried shrimps, and boiled rice and curry, whenever I visited them. Now, they stuff me with chicken roast, kebabs, and what not, and when I mention the dried prawns, and the fish curry, they give me a queer look.

I suppose I am just a nostalgic fool, who never grew up. The migrants living in and about Pakistan quarters were representative of the muhajir community, who were gradually marginalized from the mainstream of Pakistani politics for a long time¸ due to the number game of the sham democracy being practiced. First it was Ayub Khan and his cronies who punished them mercilessly for supporting Fatima Jinnah in the 1965 elections, when localities of the Muhajir community in Lalukhet were burnt down by truckloads of thugs of a particular ethnic origin. Later they were made scapegoats by the senior Bhutto in order to appease his Sindhi constituency, who wanted to assert its new found power and be recognized as a power to be reckoned with, under a charismatic leadership. Later after the downfall and death of Zulfikar Ali Bhutto, the Pakistani rulers again made some calculations regarding the balance of proxy power in Sindh and the actions taken as a result of these manifested later in the rising up of the muhajirs as a militant force, at complete odds with the establishment.

It is only today that the muhajirs under the MQM, have once again entered the mainstream politics, after a long period of existing on the periphery of Pakistani politics, and sometimes going altogether underground. Even today the MQM leadership is in exile, running a political party by proxy from London. The Muhajirs are suffering from an identity crisis today. Four nationalities are given official sanction, the Punjabis, the Pushtoons, the Sindhis, and the Baluchis, leaving the Muhajirs out in the cold. The Muhajirs in an effort to identify themselves with the rest of the population, even changed their party’s name from Muhajir Qaumi Movement to Mutehida Qaumi Mahaz, but to no avail. The middle class leaderdship of this party, could never be accepted by the elitist and largely feudal class well entrenched in other parties, the military, and the bureaucracy.