An Ode to the Karachi Monsoon

I’m not sure how I’ll make it home. I don’t know how many more minutes of rain will drown all these streets; I don’t know when the children playing in the puddles will finally be bored or when this man will get his motorcycle to work again; I don’t know if Karachi Electric will ever be prepared for these downpours; I’m not sure how Malik Riaz’s mega infrastructure will fare; I don’t know how many people are worried about their loved ones, or how many people are sipping garam chai on their balconies; I’m not sure how long my wifi will hold and I don’t know when my exhilaration will turn to despair.

I do know, however, that Karachi and the Monsoon rain have an unspoken agreement that makes home feel like home and that makes my city beautiful to me. And when the two collide, unprompted, my heart screams – Karachi, I love you!

Monsoon, welcome home.

Originally published on Facebook on July 23, 2015.

Acquiesce

Just like thatjust like that, I forget the broken roads, I forget Amir Liaquat’s monstrous face plastered over all the billboards, I ignore the motorcyclist spitting paan strategically out of his helmet, I ignore the constant honking and the fact that no one observes traffic rules, I ignore the recurring adverts about mobile phones and lawn prints, the telecom wires that are dangerously close to the ground, and all the ‘Ramzan offers’ that are apparently too good to refuse. I can smell the raindrops hitting the mud and regardless of how humid it is, the weather feels like it’s perfect outside.

Just like that Karachi, with the first monsoon rain, I fall in love with you all over again.

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Monsoon mornings 2

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Originally published on Facebook on July 25, 2014.