Karachi - The City Of Lights

by Nomaan Khan (Canada)

I didn't expect to find Pakistan

I hadn’t been back to Pakistan for over twenty years. Something was compelling me to book a last minute ticket to Karachi, all I knew was I needed an escape. The feeling like a wandering wayfarer seeking a new destination. The timing was appropriate and the stars aligned, as a dear cousin of mine was throwing a boisterous 4-day wedding during my stay. Who knew I would end up finding parts of myself I never knew were missing? Being born and raised in Canadian suburbs, I never had an intense attachment to the idea of a homeland or an exaggerated concern for cultural identity. My parents would send us to weekend classes to comprehend the language, but overtime the Urdu rolled off our tongues in confusion and we were more confident in speaking “our” native language of English. The narrative was a little different for my parents, there was always a longing for the homeland and I never understood it. I would exasperatedly roll my eyes at the idea of visiting Pakistan with my parents, opting to stay back in Canada and enjoy my freedom. It wasn’t until I set foot in Karachi, where there was a sudden rush of curiosity and intrigue of being in a place that eerily felt like home. The trip to Karachi was for a mere ten days including travel time. Each day was going to be taken up by wedding events and traditional ceremonies hosted by a myriad of people I had never met in my life. Usually, my anxiety would be at an alarming high, meeting new people in a new place with a language I was uneasy with. Normally, I would be a nervous wreck but something in Karachi's air had me vulnerable to conversation and connection. Every day was a new experience; from vibrant marigolds staining crisp white kurtas (shirts), colourful lights strung from rooftops, to the sound of religious hymns being drowned out by American pop music. The trip was turning out to be something out of the pages of Eat, Pray, Love. I had always heard enchanting stories about how badass the city was, how openminded, nonchalant and carefree the people were, but now I was getting a front row seat with much fanfare. There was an unusual symphony between people, places, and things. Hijrahs (trans women) soliciting pedestrians and drivers for money while the call to prayer simultaneously being heard through alleys and corridors. Orphans panhandling and selling roses as members of the Pakistani elite drive haphazardly, hesitantly slipping the children money. This was all a far cry from what I had heard, considering Karachi was known to be one of the top ten dangerous cities in the world. The cluster of city lights shined bright against skyscrapers, the salty sea breeze wafting over the man moulding aged clay into pots. Shopkeepers invited you inside to check out watered down versions of designer clothes and offered cold drinks and pakoras from next-door. As the days went on, time was running out and my love for Karachi was at its peak. I had formed friendships and connections that felt like home, and I was beginning to get used to the hospitality of Karachiites. Even the long stares and curiosity of locals were becoming a familiar feeling. I didn't want to waste a second of the time I had left in The City Of Lights. So, we sat on rooftops that stood the test of time, the smell of cigarettes and hash lingering in the air as we danced the nights away. Some nights turned into mornings, as we drove off into the blazing sun to have halwa puri (traditional breakfast) and chai (tea) that would put Starbucks to shame. At certain times I did feel out of place, but as I chartered unknown territories, I felt a little more whole, a little less lost. As if I had found pieces of myself in other places, people and things.