Karachi calling
Despite many similarities between Lahore and Karachi, city life and its assorted offshoots differ on many levels
By Aziz Omar
Having been born in Karachi, I have lived most of my life in Lahore and have visited my birth town only a few times. Since my last visit to the coastal city, I have been out of sync with its sights and sounds for more than a decade. Studies, work, cost of travel and logistics - all seemed to become an excuse for holding me back.

I had only heard the name Seehausen a week before and now the entire research team of Zentrum Moderner Orient was in the train going northeast from Berlin. Even the most serious bibliophiles were showing some excitement and telling stories of past travels. For the first time I heard how some of them had travelled from the former East Germany to the West. Half an hour out of Berlin, the suburban landscape changed to green rolling hills which were soon dotted with blue pools of water. Slowly the blue pools became huge lakes on both sides of the train track. In seventy minutes or so, we were at the Seehausen railway station. On both sides of the track were wooden country houses in green fields. Our hotel, more like a family-run guesthouse, was on the main road of the town on the left side (coming from Berlin) of the track. The entrance of the hotel had a display of homemade jams, jellies, and marmalades and we were all given keys to our individual rooms. The entire wooden structure of the hotel felt as if the hotel was built to last for centuries.

The room that became my lot had an attic, with two extra beds in it, above the main sleeping area. The first-floor window looked out on the roofs of other country houses. I was dreading the fact that soon, instead of roaming around the idyllic fields, the entire team was going to huddle together around huge conference tables and discuss the performance in the previous year. I started hatching plans for a short escape early next morning after I saw a wooden jetty with canoes roped to wooden poles. I talked to Robert Pelzer, a research assistant, about rowing through the lake behind the hotel early next morning. He was enthused about the plan and also narrated some of his rowing adventures in Sweden and France. We both booked a canoe at the reception for the next day at 6 am.

The country night was more peaceful than the city night and after a good night's sleep I was up at 5 am. After putting on my thickest sweater, I went downstairs for a cup of coffee and getting the canoe and paddles ready. Soon Robert Pelzer also joined me in the main hall. We asked for the two sets of paddles and walked to the jetty and loosened the rope tying the canoe to the dock. The water was still and transparent, showing schools of fish swimming near the banks of the lake. We both rowed silently to the centre of the lake, with the occasional string of words about rowing. The serene, still morning had made the surface of the lake so still that there was no noise of any waves. After rowing for a while, we reached a narrow passage with reeds growing on all sides. I asked Robert to pull up the paddles and enjoy the silence. As the ripples caused by our rowing settled, silence enveloped us. The stillness of the water and reeds wiped away all traces of the need to use words to feel alive. We both sat there for half an hour without uttering a word. I felt that I had to visit the lake again without any meetings and agendas interrupting the rowing. With this resolution, I reluctantly asked Robert if we should head back and get ready for the first session of the meeting.

After I came back to Berlin, I shared the experience with a friend. Soon we were both planning another trip to spend the entire day rowing. In a month or so, we were back there and had a canoe for the entire day. We explored the wetlands, saw other jetties on the far side of the lake at one point and rowed there. On the other side of the lake were walking paths leading into the trees. Deep into the trees was a restaurant with German country style cuisine and coffee available for those who arrived from the lakeside or through the forest on pushbikes. We sat on the wooden benches outside and looked at the stretch of water to the right and left. I remembered the English word "fen" in one touristy brochure about the area. Now for the first time, I had seen how beautiful and serene a fen could be if the wetland was not just creating shallow marshes. There were about 230 lakes in the Uckermark region which were larger than a hectare. The largest lake covered more than 1000 square kilometres. And we had only explored one or two square kilometres yet and were feeling more peaceful than ever. We talked about our everyday problems as if they were city and job problems, out of our present surroundings. Nature, when not ferocious, can be the most soothing caress for the human soul.

Having been born in Karachi, I have lived most of my life in Lahore and have visited my birth town only a few times. Since my last visit to the coastal city, I have been out of sync with its sights and sounds for more than a decade. Studies, work, cost of travel and logistics - all seemed to become an excuse for holding me back.

Chancing upon an opportunity recently to spend some time in a city that is home to around 13 million inhabitants, I found myself zipping along Shahra-e-Faisal the city's main boulevard close to midnight. This would not have been possible in Lahore as its denizens are plying their roaring chariots late into the night in order to satisfy their thirst for some "scene", mainly socialising and dining out.

Though both Lahore and Karachi are two megapolises of Pakistan, city life and its assorted offshoots differ on many levels. For one, the high life of apartments never really took off in Lahore, as perhaps they like being close to the ground. Though you have three-story structures housing floor-wise units, there are very few and far between. What with their affinity for the soil and its produce, the zamindaars and chaudaries probably want their feet planted squarely on the terra firma. Hence, as if to cater to their love of the land, there are myriad housing societies spawning literally out of the ground, especially the ones patronised by the armed forces.

Karachi on the other hand has expanded so much that there is no place to go but up. A typical cluster of apartment blocks overlooks the stretch of sea with the oyster rocks. Though the living spaces are stacked on top of each other, the demand for residing in them is so high that the rent and maintenance charges run into the tens of thousands. Unlike Lahore, where even a first floor portion of comparable floor space is not that attractive, apartments such as the West Wind Estates in the China Town area of Clifton draw a lot of interest as they offer safe and anonymous living.

Karachi seems to offer a cosmopolitan feel. One comes across a large number of foreign nationals and locals who have been living and studying abroad for most of their lives that have opted to experience Pakistani life for a while. The hardcore Karachi residents who have visited Lahore from time to time feel that the pace of life is more fast back home and the latter city gives a laid back appearance. Yet ask any zinda-dilane-Lahori and they'll confirm that when it comes to hulla gulla, they can rock the socks of Karachi walas.

Yes, it's true that Lahori folk are quite capable of going wild and overboard when it comes to fun and games but take a back seat when it comes to routine life. With a platoon of domestic helpers at their bidding, many in Lahore's upscale communities are leading a sedentary lifestyle especially the ones who have reaped the rewards of the real estate boom. Even the educate elite are comfortably ensconced in the knowledge that as their families' assets are always going to bear fruit then why labour so hard. Their counterparts in Karachi, especially the ones working in media and music may have their exclusive GTs and parties every now and then, yet know that they have to roll up their sleeves to sustain their lifestyles.

A phenomenon that is unique to the Karachi way of life is that of the Sunday Bazaar. One may argue that there are vendors who set up shop every Sunday in other locales of Pakistan, yet no such marketplace can be quite compared to the weekly "event" that takes place in the DHA area of Karachi. This low-scale and open shopping mall attracts buyers and bargain hunters in a huge multitude that rivals the crowds of a sporting event. And it's not just the ones whose purse strings have tightened but people from every strata of society that throng to the venue in thousands. Moreover so, it is mostly the gaari and kothi log that dominate the narrow passage ways among the hundreds of close knit stalls that comprise this bazaar. Some even dress up to come to this place and I am not talking about the aunties and housewives but entire families and even teenagers. One happens to come across the same people that one may have socialized with at last night's wedding function/GT, buying the dirt cheap clothing or domestic wares. Girls and young women especially frequent this temporary marketplace, and dressed casually in western attire feel quite comfortable in meandering amongst the shops. It is quite apparent that they don't have to face the stinging stares that females in similar situations have to withstand in Lahore.

Of course, I concede that one may not render definite conclusions based on a brief sojourn yet at times certain sights and sounds and sounds may convey many subtle layers of meanings. However, the nature of things is though all things have their downside, and it is only with an entrenched living experience that the stark realities are laid bare.