By Yumna Rafi, Danyal Adam Khan and Akber Ali

Legend has that Lord Rama was sent into a forest exile of 14 years by his conspiring stepmother. The noble crown prince was accompanied by his devoted wife Sita and brother Lakshman. It was soon after that the rakshas King of Lanka, Ravan, showed up in the guise of an ascetic to kidnap the loyal princess.

“Come to me and I will forgive you,” narrated Lord Rama’s messenger to Ravan. On his refusal to comply, Rama led an army to the gates of Lanka and the epic 10-day battle of the Ramayana ensued, leaving Ravan and his empire devastated.

A few thousand years later, crowds at Karachi’s Swaminarayan Mandir jump for joy as the flaming arrow from Rama’s bow lodges into the defiant Ravan’s abdomen. Hundreds of women and children sway to religious tunes as the age-old tale unfolds night after night.

The staging of the Ramleela – a retelling of Rama’s battle with Ravan – is an essential part of the Hindu festival of Navratri, which could very well be as old as the religion itself. Celebrated in the name of the goddess Durga, the event goes on for 10 days at temples across the world. After much worship and festivities, a 20-30 foot tall effigy of Ravan is brought out on the last day to be set aflame.

“The burning of Ravan signifies something much deeper than what is visible to the eye,” says Vithal Babu, the maharaj of a mandir near Soldier Bazaar in the city. “It is symbolic of ridding oneself of inner evils and purifying the soul."

The enthused pundit explains how the various names and depictions of Hindu deities are all mere manifestations of the same thing: the fundamental contrast between good and evil.

Vithal Babu has been invited to oversee Navratri rituals at the Lakshminarayan Mandir, a small temple under the Native Jetty Bridge, which has been the centre of a long-standing conflict with the authorities. Leaders of the Hindu community and organisations like the Human Rights Committee of Pakistan have claimed the ceaseless surrounding construction has indelibly affected the environs of the site.

In September 2012, the Sindh High Court had to intervene to prevent the Karachi Port Trust from demolishing the 200-year-old structure. A case has been filed against the provincial minister for excise and taxation, Mukesh Chawla, who is also a member of the Hindu Panchayat.

Sindh has an ancient relationship with Hinduism, which some claim dates back to the Indus Valley Civilisation. After persevering through the centuries, this dominance eventually lost out to the Islamic invasions. There was still a considerable number of Hindus in Pakistan at the time of partition in 1947, most of whom left for India. However, Sindh – both urban and rural – still has a higher percentage of Hindus than the rest of the country: approximately 6% as opposed to 2%.

“The problem is a lack of support from our representation in the provincial and national assemblies,” claims Vijay Dhakecha, a nearby resident and visitor at Lakshminarayan Mandir during Navratri. “This temple was almost shut down, while Hindus in Parliament did nothing to prevent it. They continue to mishandle funds and leave their people to fend for themselves.”

A temple of one’s own

Meanwhile, Hindus from far and wide gather on the other side of Karachi for the largest celebrations in town at the Swaminarayan Mandir. This temple complex interestingly also contains a gurdwara – a Sikh place of worship. The adjacent community is home to an estimated 400 families; mostly Hindus, some Sikhs, and even a few Muslims.

“This may be a primarily Hindu community, but the ethnic background of people is as diverse as can be,” explains Nand Lal, president of the local organising committee. The 80-year-old Lal has seen much in his lifetime. He recalls the Indo-Pak partition when he was barely in third grade and will also proudly tell you of the time he saw Jinnah passing through the nearby Jama Cloth Market.

“Thankfully, I did not witness any sectarian violence in this part of the country,” he says. “I remember that this very temple was used as a refugee camp, and my father insisted on us shifting to India. So we packed up our life and made it to Delhi, only to return a few months later.”

Lal and his family resettled in the Swaminarayan Mandir community upon their return and have remained there since. “I would not have it any other way,” says a reminiscent Nand Lal. “This land has given us everything. It is safe and it is home.”

The Hindus of this community seem to be self-sufficient for the most part, and happily so. Almost all children attend schools and many go on to pursue higher education, followed by jobs in various fields. Living in the heart of Karachi, they have managed to avoid any untoward incidents despite the rising sectarian tensions of recent times.

“We send out notifications to all nearby police stations before a big event such as this,” says a resident of the community and an accountant by profession, Harish Kumar. “The authorities have always cooperated with us and some paramilitary forces are also deployed when necessary. Mostly, however, we rely on our internal security and have a well-structured committee to organise affairs.”

Behind the scenes

As final preparations were made outside, nervous youths paced up and down backstage. Roles of either gender in Raamleela are traditionally acted out by males only. When asked if he was tense, 21-year-old Binesh Kumar shrugged unconvincingly.

“It’s the performance of a lifetime, but I’ve been rehearsing for a while now,” said Kumar, who is playing the lead role of Rama. “My family wanted me to be in this play, just like my elder brother Bhagwan Das. He died in a motorcycle accident at the age of 22 about seven years ago. Tonight I will make them all proud.”

Cheers erupted from the audience as a cue was called. Lord Rama grabbed his bow and, amid the drowning clatter of a thousand people, stepped out into the limelight to slay the rakshas.