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So picture this. I am driving by this place in Karachi which is heavily dug up; they are constructing a new road- (Why this has to be done in the monsoon period escapes me! Specially because as soon as these roads are made and left on for a few days to dry, the rain pours down hard and fast and we are back where we started).. I think it is starting to rain. Needless to say, I’m stuck in traffic. Construction workers are swarming the area, some walking around with tools slung over shoulders, some of them digging. Dig, dig, dig, with a shovel for a trench, dig, dig, dig. Then I see him. He is looking right at me. He is not digging. In fact, he is just standing there, inside a small ditch that he dug up and just looking straight. Rain is pouring down at him, and he is smiling and looking at me. I don’t why he is smiling; maybe at himself but how can he know how comical he looks. But I know that amidst all that rubble, he is enjoying himself.
I know I am not supposed to just smile back at someone I see on the road, specially someone who happens to be a man, and a construction worker, but I cannot stop myself. I find myself looking back at him and smiling. One of the biggest smiles I have smiled in the longest of time.
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So picture this. I am on the footpath of a road trying to cross it but the traffic is really heavy. I decide to walk along the footpath until I see an opportunity to cross. I am walking and I come across this little boy, maybe 10 years old who is lying squat on the side, while cars are whooshing past him. His clothes are torn, he has no shoes on and water seems to have never touched him. I am prepared to feel really, really sad for him while I pass him by. This is a sight that is common in Karachi and I’m not above feeling wretched for a little bit until i am safely out of sight. Until I, like an ostrich, can bury my head in the sand and pretend I don’t see. So my face is all apologetic and I start to fumble in my bag looking for some loose change. He seems very engrossed in something; his back is to me so I have to peer closely when I realize he is actually playing with something in his hand.
He has a phone in his hand! He is playing a game on a slick Nokia touch phone, the kind that is a couple of notches above my own modest model of Nokia.
He doesn’t see me but he seems happy. Contented. I zip up my bag. Then I continue walking.
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So picture this. I’m stuck in a massive traffic jam at one of the busiest places in Karachi. I’m in a rickshaw, sweating and whining to a friend on texts. I’m driving through these narrow lanes with half the roads encroached by busybody fruit sellers, next to second-hand shoe sellers, next to parked cars, next to the no-parking sign… a man is pulling a donkey cart dumped with wooden logs amidst a throng of impatiently honking cars and buses; the donkey is conspicuously missing so the man is doing its job. The two sides of the cart are positioned carefully on his shoulders so that he has to bend his back forward to support the weight. Then he moves. He doesn’t have any shoes on and the heat is scorching. Every time the traffic stops, he puts down the two sides of the cart and breathes loudly, sometimes spits, sometimes licks his lips, then the traffic starts moving, he heaves the cart back up and begins to walk again. It seems heavy. I’m watching him. Soon my rickshaw driver maneuvers expertly out of the area. I look back at the man and his donkey-less cart until I cannot see him anymore. Then I move on.
