KARACHI, Jan 3: This city has an indomitable spirit. And considering the battering it has taken over the past few decades, it is no small feat that it manages to rise after every catastrophe and tries to put itself back together. Natural disasters, riots, criminal neglect and a population that increases at an explosive rate are among the factors contributing to the smothering of its spirit.

Yet what followed Benazir Bhutto’s assassination on Dec 27, 2007, made nearly all past calamities – natural and man-made – pale in comparison as Karachi came to a grinding halt for four days. Dawn spoke to a cross-section of the city’s sons and daughters, cutting across economic and social lines, to hear what they had to say about this sprawling metropolis that shelters them.

All were, as expected, disgusted by the events of the past few months, but some still kept hope alive.

Syed Tamjeed, 77, a retiree who arrived in Karachi from Rajasthan in 1948, when asked what he loved and hated about this city, paused for a long while and reflected over the events of the decades before answering.

“The reasons we fell in love with Karachi and left India are disappearing one by one. It used to be a city that sheltered the poor. It used to be the city of lights, peace and harmony. It welcomed people regardless of caste and colour. In my eyes, the downfall began with Ayub Khan’s takeover at the top. It is commonly believed that he harboured a grudge against Karachi. That’s why he moved the capital,” he said.

Madiha, a 25-year-old environmentalist, was a little more optimistic about her approach to the city.

“In the midst of all the tensions of life, traffic jams, security issues, suicide bombers, ever increasing population, slums, wrecked roads and below standard consumer goods and between all the fights and arguments all day with many people, whenever you look around you get the affection back from this land. This is one of the major reasons for my love of this city. The people are friendly, open and welcoming. With all the disappointment and frustration around, they still stop to smile back at you,” she added.

Khadim Hasan, in his early 30s, works as a courier in a travel agency and has to fight hard just to put food on his family’s table and make ends meet.

“What’s there to love about Karachi? What are we getting from it? What are the politicians and the government doing for the poor of this city? They are all just self-centred. Look at the prices of essential commodities. How can a working class person cope? People have betrayed the reason Pakistan was created,” he said bitterly.

Sheela Dileep, manager at a local bank, however, preferred to look at the brighter side of things.

“It is my birthplace and I am proud to be a Karachian. It is a city where we have values, friendship, family, and where we care for one another. Karachians become one in times of need. However, I hate the politics of this city, as well as all the beggars and the beggary business,” she said.

Raja’a al-Fatima, a sixth grader, was very matter-of-fact about her sentiments for the city.

“Nothing’s really special about Karachi, but I do like the way it’s developing. There’s a change in the way it was a couple of years ago. I also like the beach. But what I hate is the pollution and the corruption.”

When she was asked what she meant by ‘corruption,’ she said that to her it was when “people steal from other people’s houses and destroy shops,” as well as when “nearly all the manhole covers are removed, which can cause so many deaths.”

Mohammad, in his mid twenties, works in the media. He talked of Karachi with the bitterness of a jilted lover.

A city orphaned?