http://jang.com.pk/thenews/apr2010-weekly/nos-25-04-2010/foo.htm#2
Karachi, lite
Experiencing the fun side of the city…
By Bharat Bhushan
It requires a leap of faith for many Indians to think of Pakistan as a place where one can have fun. So when I told a colleague in Delhi that I had been to the Fashion Week in Karachi last week, her response was – “So they had these burqa-clad women walking the ramp? Ha, ha, ha.”
“Actually no,” I said. “There were these ethereal looking models, all over six feet tall – like the Na’vi from Avatar – with off-the-shoulder dresses, showing a lot of leg on the ramp. They walked like elegant long-legged insects, with their torsos thrown back 75 degrees to the ground almost unable to keep pace with their lower half.”
I was in Karachi at the invitation of Aman ki Aasha, a joint venture of the Jang group of newspapers, Geo TV and The Times of India, to explore the possibility of peace between Pakistan and India.
Karachi has a special place in my heart. Seven years ago I was bamboozled into addressing a rally of fishermen on the Sir Creek maritime dispute between the two countries, because of which fishermen on both sides are regularly arrested for illegally crossing “borders”. The meeting was in one of the largest fishing villages in the area – Ibrahim Hyderi.
I am normally a nervous speaker even in front of five people, but that day I spoke at a meeting of nearly 5,000 fishermen. I did not know any Sindhi, Balochi or Kacchi – the languages spoken by the fishermen and spoke a sort of patois Urdu. I was a complete wreck at the end of it but the fishermen claimed politely that they had understood everything I said. As the place of my first, and probably last, political address, I have a special fondness for Ibrahim Hyderi and Karachi.
I was pleased to be staying at my favourite hotel, Avari Towers. That night, my Indian colleagues decided to patronise the must-go restaurant of Karachi, BBQ Tonight. But a surfeit of grilled meat gets my goat in Pakistan. I went to Cafe Flo, a French restaurant that has the ambience of a Parisian café. You can choose to sit outside. I had Carpaccio, followed by fish meuniere. They were excellent.
The next evening we visited the Pakistan Fashion Week at the Marriott. Though we reached late we were accommodated in the second row. There were takeaway bags containing T-shirts. One even had two condoms with some campaign literature on HIV.
The fashion show featured the big names in Pakistani fashion like Deepak Parwani, Umar Sayeed, Sana Safinaz, Faiza Samee, Shamaeel Ansari as well as newer talent like Sania Maskatia, Aziz Ali and Sana Rizwan. Deepak Parwani is one of the biggest names in Pakistani fashion. His label is stocked in London, New York, Dallas, Dubai and Singapore.
The music was loud enough to affect someone with a weak heart. “If you get a heart attack now, nobody will believe it’s because of the music. They will blame the models,” my Pakistani friend quipped.
Dinner was at the creek-side residence of Byram Avari, the owner of Avari Hotels, who was out of town but whose son Xerxes played host. I met up with several old friends including the veteran journalist Ghazi Salahuddin and his daughter Aliya who is now a TV reporter and Farjad Nabi, a documentary film maker who I had not seen since 2002. Farjad’s award winning documentaries include one about Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan called “Nusrat has left the building… but when?” I remember him best for his “Das Goongi Filmein (Ten silent movies)” which he made with Mazhar Zaidi at the Mateela film collective and screened at the South Asia Film Festival at Kathmandu in 2001.
It was a treat to meet the unassuming M. Hanif of the A Case of Exploding Mangoes fame at the dinner. I told him how everyone in my family, including our two sons, had thoroughly enjoyed his book. “Tell me how to get my son to read books,” he responded.
“Hey Bharat, remember me?” It was Asad Sayeed whom I knew from Cambridge, way back in 1991. He now works with the Collective for Social Science Research (Pvt) Ltd. Why Pvt. Ltd., I asked. “So that nobody thinks that we are an NGO and do things for free,” he said with his bright smile.
The next day, I visited several boutiques including Sheep and Daaman, helped by a friend who had taken the day off from work, to shop for my wife. I also made the mandatory visit to the famous Zainab Market for Kutchi mirror-work cushion covers.
That night I had to make my way to another friend’s house for dinner on my own as the rest of the group left early. When I finally got there, it turned out that the dinner was elsewhere. I had been given the wrong address.
A tall gentleman with a handlebar moustache came to the door. When I said that I was from India, he gave me a hug, invited me in for tea. “Don’t be scared of hugging a Pakistani and don’t worry, my man will escort you to your friend’s house,” he said and gave me his card.
“I work for the Customs. Next time you come, contact me at the airport and I will take you directly to your friend’s house,” he said, and offered his help while exiting Pakistan! “Kuch idhar ka samaan udhar le jaana ho to batayein,” he said magnanimously, bowing with his hand on his heart.
Condensed from the article ‘A Pakistan exists beyond stereotypes: Partying in Karachi’, by the author, published in The Mail Today, New Delhi.