Karachi, PAKISTAN – Belle in Disney’s Beauty and the Beast says home is where the heart is. For me, this rings very true. I was born in Karachi, Pakistan, and have spent almost all my life here.
A quick Google search tells you that Karachi is a sprawling metropolis, filled with too much trash and way too many people. It lies on the coast of the ancient province of Sindh, home to the Indus Valley Civilization and opening into the glorious Arabian Sea.
It is a city of extreme imbalance between poverty and wealth, with beggar children dotting every traffic stop, while the elite party in penthouses in shiny towers above.
It is heavily polluted, the infrastructure crumbling, and crime rates are high. In 2014, the year my brother was born, it ranked as the 6th most dangerous city on earth.
Karachi is dirty and grubby. Nothing works here – and yet, Karachi has my heart.
Children and teachers at impoverished schools in Karachi.
Home to the mausoleum of the country’s founder, the famous Quaid-e-Azam (great leader), I attend its oldest school, Karachi Grammar School, established in 1847 by the British, still marked by its colonial past.
Everyone carries the burden of colonialism. Lessons at my school, for instance, are generally in English, and typically, the principal is a white English man. Some of our houses at school are actually named for our country’s colonizers.
Karachi’s historical Mohatta Palace Museum is fascinating and filled with cultural artifacts. The city is filled with millions of people, the most ethnically and linguistically diverse of any city in Pakistan.
Everyone is welcome here, to bring their own language, food, clothes, songs and stories.
This broken city bands us all together as one.
Karachi can be best described through sensations. The noise of a million brightly decorated trucks honking, the smell of smoke, soot and sea mingling together, broken footpaths beneath my feet, delicious halwa puri melting on my tongue as I sit at a roadside dhaba.
I hear languages – Gujarati over the softer Dari – and a little lame street dog comes begging for scraps.
Gray and black crows compete with kites for space in the sky. Whether I am taking a sunset stroll along the gated and gorgeous Nathia Gali beach or driving past the trash-filled public access Sea View, the ocean is a constant in my life.
I love going to the beach, whether with my family, friends, or on a school trip.
By night, Karachi is beautiful. The trash can’t be seen, and yet the city is lit up from a million windows. The moon smiles down from above towering skyscrapers, and the sea howls in the distance.
Despite my city’s flaws – the trash, crime and poverty – at night, I can’t help but love it.
From our food to our beaches to our wonderfully kind people, Karachi has it all for me.
Karachi was named after a fisherwoman, Mai Kolachi, a brave woman who saved her husband from drowning in a storm. It is said that the city takes after her – its strength, resilience, determination and love.
And some days I hope I take after the city, and her patron, Mai, and I too, will rise above everything that tries to bog me down and I’ll shine bright.
Ultimately, I love my city, the city of lights, and always will.
Anya Farooqui is a Junior Reporter with Youth Journalism International.
