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The
way we were karachicharacter
Mehroz
Siraj Sadruddin One
of the most recent crises Pakistan faced hit the homes and kitchens of
almost every Pakistani. Prices of flour rose due to a shortage of wheat
supplies in the country, making this staple and usually affordable food
quite unaffordable for the common man. Karachi, with its population of
over 16 million people bore the consequences of this crisis. At general
and (government established) utility stores As a result, apart from
the average Karachiite who is paying up to five rupees for a single
piece of roti (bread), retailers in Karachi have taken a direct hit as
well, with profits plummeting by almost a whopping 50 per cent. One
of the most adversely affected towns in Karachi is Shah Faisal Town.
"Wheat supplies are irregular," says Rafiq, who owns a general
store in the area falling within the limits of Unit 109. "I have
not had wheat since the last 25 days," he adds.
Shopkeepers
in different parts of Shah Faisal Town voice similar opinions. A general
store owner in Shah Faisal Colony 1, Aamir Atari, says that in his
locality, wheat is being purchased by retailers at 17.75 rupees per kg.
Now when the selling price of wheat is 18 rupees per kg, there is no
sustainable profit for shopkeepers who are selling lower quality and
imported wheat at a cost-to-cost basis. "The
flour that is being sold in utility stores over here is not
eatable," claims Aamir. Subsequent visits to general stores in the
town confirm this fact. Aamir alleges that utility stores are selling
adulterated Profitability
has suffered because of the grave crisis that was created last year.
When wheat was being sold at 22
to 25 rupees per kg, it was learnt that traders and shopkeepers
were making a net profit of two to three rupees per kilogram of wheat
that was sold to the customers. Today, the maximum profit being made by
these small business owners is a mean 50 paisas. Keeping this fact in
mind, Mr Atari explains that "profits made on a 40 kg sacks have
fallen from 90 to 20 rupees." These 20 rupees, he adds, "are
taken by transporters who bring the wheat to our shops." When
questioned, Mohammed Salman, who owns and operates a medium size general
store near Shama Plaza, confirmed to Kolachi that "there have been
no profits at all, but quality of the wheat has still been
compromised." However, shopkeepers are still willing to stock and
sell wheat without a sustainable profit margin. Salman says this is
because,"people will come to purchase other items only if we
continue to stock wheat." This
observation indicates
that wheat is the most important commodity for daily consumption and
purchase in Shah Faisal Town.
Analysts,
economists and press reports have confirmed many of the claims of shop
owners in Shah Faisal Town. Economist
Dr Abid Soleri, tells Kolachi; "Industrial mafias are behind the
hoarding of wheat. This includes the aristocratic classes of various
political parties who are also policy makers. They are the same people
who created the sugar crisis two years ago." Commenting
on this trend of hoarding, Iqbal Dawood, who is the Chairman of Pakistan
Flour Mills Association (PFMA), says that, "a list of 50 hoarders
was presented to former Prime Minister Shaukat Aziz, but no action
whatsoever was taken." The
situation in Gulshan-e-Iqbal Town is more or less similar to that in
Shah Faisal Town. Shopkeepers report reducing profitability and
irregularities in wheat supplies, the quality of which is nothing to
write home about anyway. "Profits
have been reduced by 50 per cent; the crisis is still very much at large
in the area," says Abdul Rahim, who owns a general store near the
NIPA flyover. He further says that while he managed to sell around 60 kg
of wheat everyday before the crisis, at a profit of 10 rupees per
kilogram, sales and profits have both taken a nosedive now. Procurement
of wheat too has been a problem for him. Abdul
Ghaffar, owner of a general store enmeshed inside a residential locality
in Gulshan-e-Iqbal, says that, "pure, finely ground wheat is not
available at the moment." He claimed that sales of "mixed atta
(flour)" have gone down from 100 to 30 kg, after a sharp rise in
buying earlier this month. "Utility
stores are the kings of corruption," suggests former President,
Sindh chapter of PFMA, Mohammed Yousuf. Critiquing
the government's failed policies of wheat distribution, he alleges that
some people with vested interests were involved in the embezzlement of
wheat. "End consumers," he says, "are the ones suffering
most at the hands of negligence by the authorities." The
situation however in another major town, North Nazimabad, has been
pretty stable despite the recent crisis. This is because most
shopkeepers and large departmental stores in the locality traditionally
store extra stocks of commodities such as rice and wheat when they are
amply available in the market. However, white ground wheat that comes
directly from mills is still being sold at the exorbitant price of
around 35 rupees per kg at some general stores in the locality. There
are two major reasons because of which wheat supplies in North Nazimabad
have not been hurt despite the crisis in the entire city. Firstly,
most of the businesses and general stores in North Nazimabad are very
close to Abdullah Flour Mills, located near Ghalib Library. Secondly, as
there are two Rangers' wings between the flourmill and the library,
adequate supplies to shops and general stores have been largely ensured. Deployment
of Rangers at the city's various flour mills is a measure that should
have been taken a long while back to further ensure transparent supply
and distribution of wheat in the city.
Afzal Cheema, who heads the Rangers' unit deployed at Mehran
Shopping Complex, located opposite to a popular local Chinese food
restaurant, stresses that "wheat was readily available at our store
even after the post December 27 crisis." He adds that according to
his information, "people had taken wheat from the complex to other
localities and towns as well." Iqbal
Dawood, President PFMA, Sindh zone, expresses his satisfaction over the
deployment of Rangers at the flour mills and has said that the required
amount of wheat is finally being supplied in substantial quantities to
flour mills and utility stores. Despite
several attempts, no government official could be reached for their take
on the situation. Other
than some exceptional cases, Karachiites, like their middle and lower
middle class country people have borne the brunt of the national wheat
crisis. A detailed debate on and restructuring of Pakistan's
agricultural policies is the need of the hour. The government should
ensure that in the future, the mistakes committed this time are not
repeated. Adequately
meeting local demands should be the first priority of the government and
for accomplishing that, many analysts say that the authorities at local,
provincial and federal level must take stern action against hoarders and
smugglers, ban wheat exports and ensure that price tags on wheat in
local markets is assigned keeping in mind the international prices of
wheat. These
measures, according to many analysts, would automatically turn the tide
against hoarders and smugglers, thus ensuring economic stability within
and outside Karachi. --Photos
by Zahid
Rehman hyderabad spirit With one hand tied behind his back… There are people all around us who can serve as inspiration to look beyond immediate obstacles to find a way out. Zameer Ahmed Khan learnt a skill and uses it to earn a living despite his handicap. By
Adeel Pathan Disability is no
longer a taboo subject in Pakistan. Population explosion, an increasing
aging population, chronic diseases such as diabetes and osteoarthritis,
malnutrition, injuries due to war and violence, occupational injuries,
sports injuries, large-scale environmental pollution, increasing road
traffic in the Though there are many
medical definitions of disability, for laymen, a person who cannot
perform his everyday routine properly due to a handicap can be
classified as disabled person. However there are individuals who have
defied these classifications and have proved themselves to be quite able
despite their disabilities. Born in 1965 in Unit-8
of Latifabad Taluka, Hyderabad, Zameer Ahmed Khan is an individual who
has proved the supposed implications of disability wrong. His life is
inspirational, with him making a successful living out of creating
ornamental items. Zameer does this despite his handicap; he has only one
arm. Zameer lost his left
armwhile working in a factory on his 15th birthday. This proved to be
quite an obstacle for him as he was left-handed. Regardless of the fact
that he had lost an instrumental part of his body, Zameer was a keen
footballer as well. He played at all the leading stadiums in Pakistan
till 1997, as he was not allowed to attend the football World Cup in
1995. He then shifted his attention to woodcraft and creating wooden
ornaments. "Yes, I faced a
lot of difficulties but the courage and support of my parents and other
family members went a long way to encourage me," says Zameer,
"my teachers too pushed me to work harder in this field."
Zameer especially regards Shafiq Ahmed Khan as the teacher who taught
him his art and pushed Married in 1988,
Zameer is the father of four children. His eldest son has just passed
his matriculation and works part-time as a decoration-piece makerp;
household expenses could not be covered with the meager salary he earns
at a semi private organization. Zameer says that his
son helps him whenever he is free at home. He works day and night to
earn his livelihood in a respectable manner and prefers to work instead
of begging others for help. Zameer has been
participating in Koocha-e-Saqafat at Karachi Arts Council every Sunday
since 2006 and sells his works of art including key chains as well as
models of monuments and shrines. A key chain is sold at
35 rupees, but it is not easy to prepare the key chain as it undergoes a
number of processes before completion. However, Zameer says that the
companies who want to purchase them in bulk can get them for lower
prices. Waiting for attention
from concerned quarters and the government, the disabled yet capable man
with his firm belief in the dignity of labour has participated in a
number of exhibitions and fairs and also wants to take part in foreign
exhibitions. Zameer also teaches
this art at Karachi Arts Council and tells Kolachi that not just
handicapped children, but normal children as well as women visit his
stall and learn the art of crafting wood into ornaments.
Zameer has prepared
samples of key chains for various multinational as well as national
companies to and earns a good income out of it. He is currently waiting
for response from these companies. It would be commendable if such
companies actually gave people like Zameer a shot at living better lives
with their handicaps. It is also equally
important to provide support and rehabilitation services to such
individuals to help them realize their potential. Zameer suggests that
the government should establish centers where he and other like him can
teach handicapped children such forms of art and craft to discourage the
menace of beggary. Persons with
disabilities should be ensured that they have the same rights as anyone
considered 'normal' to access available opportunities. It is about time
that Pakistan learns that allocation of resources to people with
handicaps is an investment rather than a mere medical expense.
Zameer might not be
the only handicapped person with his skill, but he can definitely be a
symbol of hope and perseverance for everyone in society. – Photos by Mohammed Rehan The way we were Naini Tal days By
Kaleem Omar Twosie
Thompson was called "Twosie" because he got two annas pocket
money on Wednesdays and two on Saturdays. The rest of us got seven annas
a week – three on Wednesday and four on Saturday. But Hemang Dixit, a
boy from Nepal who went on to become a doctor and royal paediatrician to
the King of Nepal's children, got eleven annas a week, under special
instructions to the Sherwood school authorities from his father. We were
convinced his father must be a millionaire because only a millionaire's
son could get the staggering sum of eleven annas a week in pocket money.
Back in those days, the mid-1940s, even an anna was a quite a lot of
money. Eleven annas was a fortune. A rupee was something almost beyond
our comprehension. Sherwood College,
a boy's boarding school in Naini Tal, a pretty hill town in the
Himalayan terai, and the summer capital of the United Provinces in the
days of the British Raj, was founded in 1860 by an Anglican mission. It
was originally called the Diocesan Boys School. In 1937, however, its
name was changed to Sherwood College, after the famous forest near the
English midlands town of Nottingham where Robin Hood and his band of
merry men had once dallied – hunting the king's deer, robbing from the
rich and giving to the poor, and generally having a rare old time of it,
with venison feasts, archery contests and frequent fracas with the
Sheriff of Nottingham and the evil Prince John. The school had
four houses: Robin Hood, Friar Tuck, Alan a Dale and Little John. When
you joined the school, you had to choose the house you wanted to be in.
But then you had to stick to that house throughout your years at school.
When I joined in 1943, I chose Robin Hood, thinking that since he had
been the leader of that band of outlaws, the house named after him must
also be the best. As I later discovered to my chagrin, however, Robin
Hood, far from being Top House, was actually Jugh House – "jhug"
being school slang for coming last in the inter-house competition..
Friar Tuck was Top House. This discovery came as a dire blow, because whereas
boys who were members of the Top House got to drink a couple of sips of
orange squash from the Champion House Trophy cup on Founder's Day, boys
in the Jhug House got nothing and had to content themselves with looking
on enviously as the Top House boys drank their orange squash. This may
not seem like such a big deal today, but in those days our lives at
school revolved around food and we would happily have committed murder
for half a banana or a few sips of orange squash. I got my chance to
get a crack at that orange squash when I rejoined Sherwood in March
1947, after a year away from Naini Tal at a school in Calcutta, where my
parents were living at the time. Since readmissions were treated as
fresh admissions at Sherwood, you were again entitled to join a house of
your choice. As Friar Tuck had been Top House for four years running, I
naturally chose it as my house, thinking that it would be Top House
again. Come Founder's
Day, July 1947, however, and Friar Tuck – which up to that stage had
been leading in the points table in the Top House competition – got
pipped at the post when my cousin Ajaz Anis, who was in Alan a Dale
house and was one of the school's star athletes – won all the sprint
events as well as the long jump, high jump and hop-step-and-jump events,
putting Alan a Dale into first place by the skin of its teeth. So it was
the smirking Alan a Dale boys who got to drink that orange squash from
the Champion House Trophy cup, while we disconsolate Friar Tuck boys
looked on, muttering curses under our breaths. Because I was
Ajaz's cousin, the Friar Tuck boys all blamed me for the defeat. I even
got into a couple of fights on this account with two boys from my house,
though I kept trying to explain to them that I was as upset over Alan a
Dale's victory as they were. That was my first lesson in the philosophy
that life just isn't fair sometimes. Whenever a fight
broke out between two boys at Sherwood, the cry would ring out:
"Scrap on board behind the bogs!" The "bogs" were
school slang for the loos. And it was behind the bogs that most fights
took place, since that was the one spot in the school grounds the
masters were unlikely to visit. They had their own loos. Though we never
actually saw these masters' loos, they must have existed, because even
the masters must have had to go to the loo sometimes. Or could it be
that they were given to using the nooks and crannies of Naini Tal's
wooded hillsides as loos, in a sort of Raj version of the local
"jungle jaana hai" practice?
Set around the peaceful Naina lake, or "tal,"
hence the name, Naini Tal was very much a green and pleasant land that,
back in the mid-nineteenth century, had immediately appealed to the
homesick Brits, who were reminded of the Cumbrian Lake District. It was
'discovered' by a Mr Barron and he had his yacht carried up there in
1840. The Naini Tal Boat
Club, whose wooden clubhouse still graces the edge of the lake, became
the fashionable focus of the community. Disaster struck on 16 th
September, 1880 when a major landslide occurred, burying 151 people in
the Assembly Area and creating the recreation ground now known as the
Flats. We used to be allowed down to the Flats every other weekend to
watch a movie at the Capitol Cinema, which also had a roller-skating
rink attached to it. The rink's cafeteria served the best potato chips
I've ever eaten. There were no "freedom fries" in those days. During the high
season, when the cool environs of Naini Tal saw the advent of hundreds
of visitors from the hot and steamy plains, the Mall was closed to cars
for most of the day. Cycle rickshaws, mountain ponies and dandis
(palanquins carried by Tibetan porters) took passengers along the
mile-long Mall between the bazaars at Talli Tal ("lake's
foot"), at its south end, and Malli Tal ("lake's head"),
to the north-west. The bus stand was
in Talli Tal, and it was there that we boys would disembark from the
buses bringing us up to school in early March, at the beginning of the
school year, from the railhead at Kathgodam, at the edge of the plains
22 miles to the south. Halfway up the winding road from Kathgodam was
the hamlet of Joli Kot, which was famous for its honey. The whole
heavily forested region teemed with wildlife in those days. This was
tiger country, made famous by the legendary Jim Corbett – a resident
of Naini Tal and the author of the worldwide best seller "The
Man-Eaters of Kumaon". Corbett was greatly revered by the local people for
shooting tigers that had developed a liking for human flesh. In later
life, he was instrumental in setting up the Corbett Tiger Reserve,
established in 1936 as India's first national park. Corbett became a
conservationist, long before the birth of the worldwide conservation
movement, and eventually shot more wildlife with his camera than with
his gun. In 1938, a grateful government awarded him the unique honour of
"Freedom of the Forests". He is the only person ever to
receive this distinction. Jim Corbett never
married, but his younger brother, Tom, did. Tom's son, confusingly also
named Tom, joined the British army and rose to the rank of
lieutenant-general, serving in the Iraq theatre during World War II. The
younger Tom had two children, both boys. The older boy was named Jim
(after his famous great-uncle) and the younger boy was name Michael.
Like their great-uncle Jim Corbett, young Jim and Michael Corbett were
both at Sherwood with me. Jim was in my class, and Michael was two
classes below us. In the years since
then, I've managed to keep track of the whereabouts of several Sherwood
boys who were with me at school, including Ravi Dayal, who was married
to the daughter of famed Indian author Kushwant Singh, and headed Oxford
University Press in India before setting up his own publishing firm; and
Salman Haider, who stood second in the whole of India in the civil
service examination and then joined the Indian Foreign Service, retiring
as Foreign Secretary a few years ago. Ravi died last year, and is deeply
missed by everybody who had known him. I don't know what
became of Jim and Michael Corbett, but I would like to think that, like
their famous great-uncle, they spent their lives roaming the forests of
Naini Tal and the Kumaon. karachicharacter The art-supply man Amina Baig Wazir
Ahmed is a familiar face to art students; he works in an art supply
store and is surprisingly polite and helpful to the usually high-strung
students who crowd his store everyday. Wazir
moved to Karachi for the employment opportunities were better and more
in the metropolis than in his "quiet, sleepy," village. He
isn't married, but enjoys spending time with his brothers'children and
hopes to secure their future as well as his brothers'. Kolachi:
When did you move to Karachi? Wazir:
I moved here around 10 years ago, after completing my education. Kolachi:
What brought you here? Wazir:
The money; I can make more money here than I can in my village in
Sargodha, where I was born and brought up. Kolachi:
Was it difficult moving here and settling in? Wazir:
Not really, as my brothers have been settled here since '81, i just
moved in with them. Kolachi:
What did you do initially when you moved here? Wazir:
I worked at a bookstore. Kolachi:
Is this what you have always wanted to do?
Kolachi:
Since you work in an art store, do you have an interest in the subject? Wazir:
Yes I do. Kolachi:
And how do you satiate that interest? Wazir:
I get to meet a lot of artists. I see students and can view their work
as well. We used to get a lot of Gulgee's students as well and I enjoyed
looking at their work. Kolachi:
You must come across all sorts of people at the shop, have you learnt
more about the human nature? Wazir:
Everyone who comes here is different; we get art students and families
with children. Some people complain about the quality of the things we
sell even if it is very good, while some people are delighted with low
quality supplies, saying they can make good use of it. Kolachi:
It is a terrifying thought that someone could get murdered in their own
house, do you ever fear for your own safety? Wazir:
No one is really safe in Karachi, are they? When you leave your house
for work in the morning you don't know if you will come back home or
not. Kolachi:
Did the recent bout of terrorism affect business in any way? Wazir:
Yes, there are some fancy things we have like colouring books and sets
and now when children ask their parents to buy them these, their parents
say they don't have money to spare. There has been an economic affect
for sure. Kolachi:
Do you miss Sargodha? Wazir:
If there was assurance that I could make the same kind of money there, I
would go back. Karachi is good that way, but Sargodha's atmosphere is
much better. It is peaceful, people live a very organized life, they
wake up go to work and come home. We eat dinner after Maghrib prayers
and go to sleep. In Karachi, you can't afford to lose a single minute,
each one is tightly packed with something new and if you miss anything,
it can cost you, especially in terms of work. Kolachi:
Elections are right around the corner, can you see the excitement in
your neighbourhood? Wazir:
Both PPP and MQM fall in my constituency and there is a lot of election
hustle bustle. Kolachi:
Do you plan on voting? Wazir:
Yes, I will vote for Mohtarma's party. Kolachi:Are
you enjoying all the election activity? Wazir:
I leave for work before nine and return home well after nine in the
evening. I don't get to see much. Kolachi:
So what do you do when you do get time off? Wazir:
When I have time off from here on Sunday, I would rather make daily
wages than sit idle. Kolachi:
And how do you accomplish that? Wazir:
I have a couple of chicken shops, I sit at those. Kolachi:
But when you don't feel like doing that, what do you do? Wazir:
I hang out with my nieces and nephews and help them read and draw and
colour. Kolachi:
Is there any one place you enjoy hanging out at though? Wazir:
I like the Nisar Shaheed Park. Kolachi:
Did your neighbourhood get affected by the recent wheat crisis at all? Wazir:
If you go the Utility Store just off Punjab Chowrangi right now you will
about 200 women lined up waiting to save two rupees off their atta
shopping right now! Kolachi:
Has atta become that expensive? Wazir:
Yes, they're selling it for 18 rupees for a kilo and the quality isn't
that great either. Wazir is very focused on his aim of earning money and doing well and helping his brothers settle down comfortably, in fact he has just set up a curtain shop for one of his brothers. He says there isn't anything about Karachi that he particularly enjoys, but there isn't anything he dislikes either. Though he longs to go home someday, he is willing to move countries if it means he will earn more money. Aware and hardworking, such is Karachi's character. |
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across Karachi, customers
have been facing the eye of the crisis. Standing in long lines, during
cold and dry weather is surely a daunting task. However, their efforts
and patience have not paid off completely as the government has been
supplying wheat of a low quality to these outlets. 
Though
the government has lowered prices to 18 rupees per kg, the quality of
wheat being supplied has been compromised too. "Low quality wheat
is being supplied, locally produced wheat was of much better
quality," claims Rafiq. "Prices may have lowered," he
says, "but so has the standard of wheat being supplied." Rafiq
is not the not the only one to have claimed this. 
wheat at 13 rupees per kg. "Those who purchased flour
from utility stores are now regretting doing so," says Aamir.
Local
shopkeepers blame the federal government and black sheep within the
whole system for creating the wheat crisis. According to Salman,
"good quality wheat has been witheld by mill owners owing to
financial reasons." This is mainly because of the high cost of
wheat in the international markets and the fact that hoarders had to
'get rid' of the old stocks first.
industrialized areas are some of the factors known to
contribute to disability. 
him to take it further. He admits that he was
lucky, as not just his family, but his friends helped him a great deal
as well.
Thousands of people
live with various forms of disability across the globe and a majority of
these live in under developed conditions where education, healthcare and
economic conditions are anything but optimal. 
Wazir:
I have always just wanted to make more money. Which is why I would
rather move abroad, where the money is better.