There was nothing unusual about August 16, 2011 and for many Karachiities it was yet another day to wrap up things as Eid neared. But for some, life changed forever.
Though the news of their tortured bodies stuffed in gunny bags made it to the headlines, millions in the city didn’t know their names or faces. All that we know is that their lives were snuffed out by ‘unidentified culprits’.
On the fateful day, as Shah Nawaz made his way to Zainab Market, all he could think about was getting clothes and gifts for his family. Back home his sons and daughter had been demanding new clothes for Eid.
Being a father, Shah Nawaz could not refuse them. Two of his children have a hole in their hearts and might not live to relish the next Eid. Completely unaware of the nightmare that was ready to unfold a few hours later, he went about his business.
In another part of Karachi was Junaid, a young man with dreams of having a better life soon. Given the unrest in the city, his elder brother Farooq had cautioned him and his two friends to stay inside the shop in Musa Lane and wait for his return. What better past time then to sip a cup of piping hot dhood pati at a nearby dhabba, the boys thought. An hour later Farooq received a phone call from Junaid's mobile but it wasn't his brother on the other line.
That very same day, Police Constable Ijaz had to leave for work. Donning his uniform, Ijaz kissed his four children good bye. His children had been pestering him to take a holiday. He managed to calm them down by announcing “we'll be going out in the evening.”
“All will be well by then,” Ijaz reassured her wife. But at Iftar, there was no sign of Ijaz.
A couple of days later, Ahsan, made his way to Liaquatabad Supermarket, oblivious of the violent dynamics of the city. His father Nadeem had asked him to run an errand. He dutifully completed the chore. As he left the market, an elderly man asked him to help his loaders lift sacks onto the pickup truck. As Ahsan provided help, he suddenly felt his eyes were getting heavy. Then, darkness descended.
Come August 17 and the city was still unhinged. Breaking news was flashing across TV channels as five bodies were found in gunny bags. All men belonged to Lyari.
Crowds had gathered in the neighbourhood. Trembling with the fear of facing the bitter reality, Rab Nawaz moved forward to look at the decapitated bodies. His son, Shah Nawaz had gone missing a day earlier and had become one of the first casualties of the recent violence in the city.
"Can somebody explain why my son was killed? He had no links with any political or religious party. What was his fault?" he questioned.
Holding back his tears, Rab Nawaz doesn't know how he will take care of his ailing grandchildren. "Curse be on the murderers. Curse be on the government. Curse be on law enforcers. There is no justice for us."
According to the police, they didn’t find a shopping bag near Shah Nawaz’s lifeless body, rather a note in his pocket stating ‘Want peace or war?’.
“All Shah Nawaz wanted was to bring a smile to his ill children,” said Rab Nawaz.
The body count didn't seem to halt after the gory incident.
Farooq knew things were getting messy. He had forewarned his younger brother and his friends to stay inside the shop till he returned. Before he could come back, he received a call from Junaid's cell phone. “We have kidnapped your men, if you want them alive prepare for 2 million rupees,” was all that the callers said.
As Farooq frantically tried to arrange for the ransom money, he received another call. The kidnappers have had a sudden change of heart. “No need for the ransom, collect the dead bodies instead.”
Cries of pain and anguish reverberated in Orangi Town as these young men were laid to rest.
"I wish I hadn't left them alone. I wish I hadn't opened the shop. I wish I could bring back my brother,” said an inconsolable Farooq.
"Junaid wanted to open up his own business and start a family once he was settled. He had no ill intentions,” he said.
News of widespread killings was already making rounds in the city. Ijaz just couldn't skip work today but what he did not know was that he would become another number for the news. He was kidnapped, tortured and then murdered. Ijaz was the only bread earner of his family.
His eldest son with tears in eyes said his father wanted him to study. “I will study, take care of my family and make my father proud,” he said with tears in his eyes. His delirious mother, however, sees no future in sight.
"We were always fighting to make ends meet but we managed. I loved him. Now who will come to our rescue. No one."
Assailants and kidnappers called the shots in a free-for-all killing arena. Karachiites have seen such sudden upsurge in violence on a number of times. As abruptly as the situation turns from violent to grotesque, with alarming swiftness things get back normal as if nothing ever happened.
Knowing the city’s ‘chaos and calm’ pattern, Nadeem, father of Ahsan, was hopeful that four days into the violence, it was about time the frenzy would cease. He was wrong.
As Ahsan in his naivety lent a helping hand to the loaders, he was sniffed to unconsciousness by unknown captors. "There were four men and a driver. I was helping them with loading their stuff. The last thing I remember was a handkerchief came over my nose. Then I went blank."
Luckily, Ahsan was spared by his attackers who abandoned him near a populated area with just fractured legs, bleeding wrists and a swollen face.
"When I woke up, my hands and legs were tied up. I was bleeding. I yelled out to passerbys and they took me hospital,” said a bewildered Ahsan still fazed by the horrific event.
Shah Nawaz, Junaid and Ijaz are just some of the men we might have come across while walking down the street and never noticed. Dozens of such stories make up the tale of the city once remembered for its vitality. Tenacious, it still is and forgetful and forgiving as ever.
So desensitised we Karachiites have become that a death toll of less than five doesn't sound an alarm. Whether the target killers are apprehended or set free, we don't seem to bother. The latest rumour making rounds in the city is that the new wave of violence will strike after Eid. This time some other Shah Nawaz or Junaid or probably Ijaz will be abducted and hacked to death. But what can the rest of us do? For now, all we are doing is looking the other way around and saying, “the show must go on.”