Karachi’s largest public park, Bagh Ibne Qasim, in Clifton Karachi is in the news spotlight these days because of the attempt by the Sindh government to hand it over for development to a property tycoon. The Karachi city government has challenged the right of the provincial government to hand over a park that falls under its jurisdiction, the Sindh government and Malik Riaz, the property tycoon, claim the move is simply aimed at developing a “world-class” recreational space for the public.

While “world-class” is usually a euphemism for a space catering to the elite, we take a look at a multi-class recreational space that used to exist earlier on the same premesis.

In the 1980s, a visit to Funland was about leisure entertainment for young families craving rollercoaster and ‘dodgem’ car rides. And ah, those, pink sticky Candyfloss sticks that gave kids a sugar buzz were surely the best. And, if nostalgia has the ability to bring back memories as you read this, try that catchy tune, the one immortalised in television advertisements that had young kids humming, “Pyari Ammi, pyare Abbu, Fauzia, Nadia, Bablu, Pappu … chalo chalein Funland” (literally translated as ‘Dearest mother, dearest father, Fauzia, Nadia, Bablu, Pappu … let’s go to Funland’).

Remembering Funland and what it meant to the citizens of Karachi

Situated next door to the blue-tiled shrine of the Sufi saint, Abdullah Shah Ghazi and opposite Sea View — Clifton’s beachfront — Funland was once a well-loved leisure park offering state-of-the-art rides. Visitors thronged to the park on weekends especially, tourists included. Established by the Karachi Metropolitan Corporation (KMC) in 1965, it was equipped with mini-train rides, a bowling alley, roller coasters, spinning wheels and a pirate ship among other rides, along with an air-conditioned play land area for children. Also, it was Funland that introduced dodgem cars to Pakistan for the first time in 1968. What was telling of the times was this amusement park drew families from all social classes. For a city divided by social stratification, Clifton had become the centrepiece for multi-class gatherings in the 1980s.

Pedestrians strolled down to the beach greeted by hawkers selling salty snacks from temporary food stations along the shore, while vendors with sea-shell jewellery and local handicrafts drew tourists — a peaceful picture perfect metropolis enjoying its time off. Evenings or weekends at Funland not only showcased Karachi’s ethnically and socially diverse citizenry but provided space for wholesome entertainment — something absent in the lives of young families today.

The larger amusement park demolished in 2005, the area was condensed into a smaller space, limiting the number of rides. This led to the area being reincarnated as the Ibne Qasim Park in 2007 and followed several years later by the construction of Bahria Town’s Icon Tower the locale has been visibly transformed. Clearly, commercial interests outrun the need for preserving entertainment spaces for young people. According to Arif Hasan, an urban planner, this changing landscape was prerequisite to a shift in approach to developing Karachi. Hasan, who has campaigned extensively to preserve cultural icons in the city, believes that greater importance was given to building the image of Karachi as a world-class city and so it became imperative to structure it in a way that it caters to the elite.

Overshadowed by the new Tower the remnants of this amusement park do nothing more than remind us of Karachi’s crumbling cultural past — especially at a time when perhaps leisure pursuits are a much-needed respite for the city’s youth. Hasan tells Eos that the main amusement park was eventually demolished when investment was focused on traffic-related and gentrification projects, and shopping malls were being built. “At present, there is an absence of multi-class spaces. There are no proper avenues of entertainment for the lower-middle class apart from visiting Sea View.” Over the years, even the hawkers and vendors who did brisk business at the beach promenade have diminished in numbers and Karachi’s cultural sentiment is deteriorating rapidly, Hasan explains.

Overshadowed by the new Tower the remnants of this amusement park do nothing more than remind of Karachi’s crumbling cultural past — especially at a time when perhaps leisure pursuits are a much-needed respite for the city’s youth.

A dismal end: Clifton’s state-of-the-art aquarium

It was not just the amusement park that was a magnet for families in the 1980s, but, Karachi’s largest public aquarium situated within its vicinity drew a million visitors annually. Built by Japanese experts in collaboration with the then KMC, the aquarium was one of the largest sources of revenue for the public corporation. It earned over two million per year at the time of its closing. Sprawled across 1,500 acres of land, the aquarium had 33 seawater exhibition tanks and 14 freshwater tanks with various fish species. Unfortunately, during the construction of Ibne Qasim Park, the aquarium’s vital components, including its sea and freshwater reservoirs, a filter bed, bellowing rooms and breeding rooms for fish were destroyed while the seawater had already damaged the structure of the building. Regrettably, as apparent in this case, the provincial government’s disinterest when it comes to maintaining cultural and recreational sites is well known.

The past glory

In the vicinity of the park, the Shree Ratneshwar Mahadev Temple, adjacent to the Jehangir Kothari Parade, annually hosts 25,000 Hindu pilgrims during festivities, according to the Pakistan Hindu Council. Before the amusement park was demolished, an entrance within the temple-led worshippers directly to Funland. “If the footfall of the park was 2,000 on regular days, it would increase to 5,000 during festive seasons. Visitors from all over, including the interior of Sind would come to the temple and because they had never been to an amusement park, they would also congregate at Funland,” says Ravi Davani, secretary general of All Pakistan Hindu Panchayat. “The park played host to a three-day mela [carnival] during Shivratri with visitors spending a day out in Clifton.

This also boosted the revenue of local vendors,” he adds.

Recalling the park’s safe environment, he says incidents of crime and harassment were never reported although visitors from various strata of society felt comfortable mingling at the park. “Over the years, the entertainment value of the city has declined. Funland, at present is not a secure spot, nor has it been maintained which means it remains restricted to the low-income working class,” Davani adds. Another visitor at the temple is quick to point out that the park built in place of the amusement park has not been maintained either by the authorities in charge and has become a venue for harassment of women and petty theft.

The price of commercialism

Vendors in the vicinity, most selling seashells and other trinkets, others food and drink, say they have been impacted by the reconstruction of the area around the shrine of Abdullah Shah Ghazi. For them, the ‘gifted’ flyover, bright city lights post-dusk and the other modern trappings have come at a huge cost to their livelihood. “I have spent almost two decades in this [Funland] area. Initially, it was a lucrative period but ever since the authorities have reconstructed this area, we’ve had to shift our stalls more than thrice, severely impacting our businesses,” Sajjad, a seashell stall vendor tells Eos. “At first, only Sunday was enough to generate revenue, and now the entire week falls short on income. We have no option but to wait for special occasions when more people visit,” he adds.

Although the bun kabab stall does brisk business on most days, the owner, Wasim is not satisfied with changes in this area. “There was no place like Funland of the 1980s in Karachi. It was not only a source of entertainment for most but business was booming in those days. Now with hardly four to six rides in the park, most dilapidated, visitors do not come here. Then, due to the construction of the Tower, the park is out-of-sight and neglected,” he complains.

The loss or downgrading of a city’s tradition and cultural places — often replaced by high-end malls, apartments and gyms — is usually accompanied by changing visitor demographics. Today, the amusement park welcomes mostly single working men on a break from their everyday hard lives, and often, one catches a glimpse of a few families with limited means on a day out. But this shift has meant that street vendors are no longer able to rely on these visitors for their livelihood.

“I was four-years-old when I came to this area. In my late 30s, I’m witnessing this area collapse,” says Naveed Gul, a local resident. He alleges that the amusement park has not been maintained for decades. “The working classes do not bother about safety measures when they visit the park. But those visitors who once came here don’t visit anymore because of the dilapidated condition of this park,” says Gul.

For a father of four children, nostalgia brings him back to this amusement park with his family. He comes to share stories of his childhood with his kids. “They can’t relate to the sentiment because this place is nothing like it used to be. Funland was every Karachiites’ place to be, it was our paradise.”

The writer is a member of staff

Published in Dawn, EOS, April 9th, 2017