A CARNIVAL-LIKE atmosphere greets me at Allah Wala Chowk as I head towards the MQM headquarters Nine Zero in the evening. There is a palpable sense of vindication coming from the sea of people chanting their party’s slogans while dancing to MQM songs at Jinnah Ground. The streets are lit up and almost everyone we come across is congratulating each other. At the entrance and exit, security keeps a watchful eye on every passer-by.

As we sit in the waiting room at the Khurshid Begum Memorial Hall, a party member is talking before a television camera, clarifying the MQM’s position after it has clinched the coveted office of the city’s mayor. The gentlemen on the other side of the divider in the waiting room keep reassuring the anchorperson that the MQM was elected by a diverse group of people “and I think that it’s high time we stopped being asked repeatedly why we won”.

Why is it, I ask the MQM spokesperson, Amin-ul-Haq, that the party is asked to justify its victory?

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“It’s a perception rooted in events that took place in the 1990s,” he explains. “It was thought that we were anti-state, resulting in the army operation against the party in 1992. It was alleged that we had mapped out a separate state for the Mohajirs, named Jinnahpur. We have not been able to get away from this perception built against us at the time; it is thought that we get votes through force and violence, hence the question.”

“Even now, there has been an ongoing operation led by the Rangers [under way against us] for the past two years,” Haq continues. “In March, this hall was raided by the Rangers and party workers arrested for, as alleged by the paramilitary force, involvement in targeted killings. Following that were the reports of an internal rift which was then followed three months ago by the party resigning from the provincial and national assemblies. In April, the party was alleged to have links with the Indian spy agency RAW. Most of party representatives have repeatedly come on TV talk shows to clarify that there is no rift.”

Looking at the trajectory of events that have since unfolded, what were the challenges the party thought it would face in the local body elections, I ask. And does finally winning it seem to be a justified end to a spate of what the party would call unfortunate events?

“The constant arrests and harassment hampered our electioneering,” says senior MQM leader Faisal Subzwari, moving away from the congratulatory mob that has formed around him at Jinnah Ground. “I faced difficulty in my constituency, PS-126. Two months ago, I had no candidates. During one of the meetings there were only five workers sitting in a room that is usually filled up by more than a hundred. Workers would flee when the paramilitary personnel patrolled the areas, so it hampered mobilisation on the ground. We had to convince candidates to trust us and attend corner meetings,” he muses. He adds, though, that there is definitely a sense of vindication.

“These are not sympathy votes; they’re votes cast by people who feel a sense of belonging to the party. Also, it has been proven that you cannot win votes by constantly calling your rivals a ‘terrorist’ group. Our rivals need to come up with something more concrete next time,” he says.

Something concrete is what the city of Karachi can also use since most voters, regardless of which part of the metropolis they live in, count water, electricity and transport as their top needs. And, of course, normality and peace.

“We understand that very well,” replies Subzwari, “And as a result, we have decided to support the Rangers-led operation as our future strategy as well to make sure that we cater to the needs of the people.”

Soon, we move towards the street where Nine Zero is located. It is a modest home where the party chief, Altaf Hussain, used to live, and which has now been refurbished. The place is used by party members as a congregation point on special occasions such as this evening. As people click pictures beside the party flag outside the home, Mohammad Yameen, one of the old caretakers of the building, asks people to not crowd and to come in one by one.

The house smells of old wood and has the mustiness that comes of having remained shut up a long time. As he shows us around the small premises, Yameen talks of how he helped many workers survive the onslaught of the ’90s.

“Yeh gandi gali walay darwazay se bohot logon ko bhagaya hai,” he says, pointing to the back door which opens into a back alley. About the raid in March, he speaks quietly, adding: “Beta ek woh waqt tha ek yeh waqt hai. We survived that time, and we’ll survive this one, too.”

Published in Dawn, December 8th, 2015