I am ashamed
I moved to Hyderabad Deccan about a year ago, but somehow Hyderabad’s suffering doesn’t register with me. Its people still don’t seem to be my people, and their misery doesn’t seem to be my misery, or even misery at all. This is probably because I’m a Karachiite. Being a Karachiite means you’ve lived through bombings, target killings and the city going up in flames over and over again; it means there have been times when your father hasn’t come home for the night because it was safer to stay put wherever he was; it means there is a high probability that you ...
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The cleverest trick
How often it is that we end up taking things for granted; from having a blessed existence to having a lovely home; being loved by our loved ones and the overwhelming feeling of belonging while reconnecting with family and friends on Eid. But rarely do we pause to think of the unfortunate souls who are devoid of our blessings – those who live on the streets of this megalopolis. A few days before Eid, I was walking down Gulfway Shopping Mall in Clifton, when I saw a boy, no more than 10 years of age, begging from a woman. Brushing ...
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Riaz wanted to learn English
It was almost 11 years ago when I stopped my car at the Teen Talwar traffic light to be greeted by the usual herd of beggars, windscreen cleaners and newspaper sellers. One of the newspaper sellers, Riaz, a total of four feet in height, asked me for a lift to the Marriot signal. Irritated by the commotion around me, I chose to ignore him. Rather than moving on, he boldly walked in front of my car, locked eyes with me, stuck his teeth out like President Asif Zardari would, if he stared at the sun, and performed a mini-break dance ...
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The man who taught me how to give
I was not too surprised when I saw the elderly man on the side of the Islamabad highway. Beggars are a common sight on the road and drivers are used to ignoring them. But as I waited at the traffic signal, I noticed the man stepping onto the road. The light had just turned red and the timer had started. He only had a few seconds to get someone’s attention. Watching him from the car, I assumed he was asking for money, but his movements suggested otherwise. There was no weariness, no weakness in his movements, which is usually associated ...
Read Full PostMe and the vagabond
I befriended a vagabond. I must admit it was not a natural act, but well, I did. One late evening I was going home and saw a beggar, in dirty tatters of cloth, sitting all by himself and crying bitterly. But there was a reason to his tears. The children standing a little further down were hitting him with pebbles and stones that I could see would fall directly on his shaven head. The scene was really upsetting. It was then that I took the step. Inquired from him, about why was he crying and why the children were throwing ...
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Bringing street children into the fold
After I wrote a blog for The Express Tribune and I Own Pakistan, I got so many positive and negative comments that I decided to work further on the project and come up with a successful model for educating beggars in Karachi. The gist of my idea was that: On each and every signal we should install a small box for water with surf or any other cleaning material and a few wipers. Two to three kids should be assigned to each signal with one official to collect money. All these kids should be provided uniforms and they should have standardised times for ...
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