My City Karachi..City of Blood and Tears

Karachi..the city of lights and nothing else comes to my memory if I look back into my childhood. Going shopping with my siblings and cousins on chaand raat and buying cheesy post cards for friends, after much waiting, having my elder sister FINALLY do my mehndi (ironically by the time she used to get to my little hands, she was half asleep) waking up to a familiar exquisite scent of freshness and the smell of kachri ka keema, rushing to the shower and getting myself dresses in a perfect Eid dress and churiyan to go with my dress. I can still recall my hasty behavior to see my grandmother and uncle to get that fresh bundle of rupees before others get to it :) and yes I did get more than others (they actually did a great job spoiling me).

And the school days when my doorkeeper would be waiting for us outside the main door but cunningly, we eluded him to get to the snack thayllas (we were forbidden to buy snacks from thaylla) before he'd catch us. And the evenings of Ramadan when our chiri rozas would leave us incapacitated and that to compensate, we had to go to an Ice cream parlor right after the maghrib. Even then, the load shedding wasn't dreadful. It's actually added in my good memories instead of the bad ones. We had a very big lawn and a porch which is elevated from the ground, for us, it was quiet normal to step outside of the house and sit together with the entire family on the porch discussing the status quo (I was too young to do that instead I had the opportunity to catch up on some family gossip)...Sigh

Unfortunately, nothing in Karachi is the way it used to be, not the Eids, nor the Ramadans or that feeling of being a karachiette even the load shedding has become a painful saga. The food doesn't taste the way it used to, I think the magic of Karachi has been cursed.
When browsing through different news channels, the only news about Karachi is normally the breaking news about suicide bombings or the target killings and on good days merely about strikes. Is that all we deserve? even the suicide bombings don't give me goosebumps any more because it has become a norm to hear about the bloodshed taking place in Karachi.
In 1992, I remember hearing something something about something called "PPP" and something called "MQM", (being a 7 year old, it was fascinating relating myself to some famous abbreviations) these abbreviations were used quiet often in front of me, and also some wickedness about the abbreviation "PPP" but for that matter the more people spoke about these abbreviations the more it got confusing but from the surroundings,from what was being discussed I knew I wasn't safe, we weren't safe hence soon after we flee out of Pakistan. After 18 years the abbreviations are clear and in front of me for further assessment. Not sure who is the culprit and it's any way too soon to reach a verdict. However, I know who are the victims, I am a victim. I have lost a sense of belonging, I have lost my beautiful childhood memories and I have lost my freedom to roam around Karachi. I can't introduce my children to my birth city to my home to my past, instead the once known city of lights is now known as city of blood and tears..
God bless Karachi
xoxo