AT the dinner table each one had a story to tell. Being robbed or mugged at gunpoint at traffic signals and burglars breaking into their houses were experiences they all shared. This was at a house in the upmarket Defence Housing Authority area, but the stories are much more horrid in downscale neighbourhoods where people cannot ‘buy’ security. Every third person in the city is believed to have gone through this torment not once, but many times.

Blood comes cheap in the city and any resistance to intruders could cost people their lives. Don’t argue or display bravado, is the common advice one gets when you arrive in the city. They may be right, with law-enforcement reaching the point of complete collapse in the country’s biggest metropolis. Going to the police may get you into bigger trouble.

So, how does one survive in this lawless environment? The increasing number of burglaries and muggings are manifestations of a city fast descending into chaos. People have their own ways of surviving in the teeming cosmopolitan city that still provides unparalleled opportunities.

Blood comes cheap in Pakistan’s largest city, and any resistance to intruders could cost people their lives.

For them, the government has become completely irrelevant or just a scrounger they need to avoid. Buy your own security and pay for other services if you have the money. If you can’t afford the price then seek the patronage of mafias and local political parties. That too may not guarantee your complete security.

Still, the city is growing at an unprecedented rate. Since 1998, the population of Karachi is believed to have doubled in size as have the geographical contours dividing the city into several economically, sociologically and culturally different entities that have little or no connection with one another. Surely the divide is getting more pronounced with the massive influx of migrant populations in the city over the last one decade.

It is not just migration from the north; there has also been a large influx of migrants from the interior of Sindh, particularly after the last two floods. That, however, does not make the city a melting pot. Instead, it has widened the cultural and economic divide. Perhaps one of the few places where one can see different social and economic classes together is at the Clifton beach on holidays.

Most migrants are settling down in the peripheries with no delivery of services by the state. They are dependent on different power groups that are turning the city into a political powder keg. Turf wars have also given rise to criminal armed gangs patronised by different power blocs pushing the city into an endless cycle of violence. Businessmen have to pay extortion money to not only these gangs but also various law-enforcement agencies in order to survive.

There is no problem once you know which the most powerful group in the area is that can ensure your security. We just have to pay a part of the government taxes we evade to them, a prominent industrialist candidly confided in me. But that is not enough; one has to keep ministers and government officials happy as well. Every one has a price tag. Surely, this is not unique to Karachi, but it is far worse here because of the highly extractive nature of the Sindh government.

What has contributed further to Karachi’s worsening plight is the absence of an elected city government for the past five years. The reason is simple: the PPP government does not want to lose political control of the country’s wealthiest city. A city with a population of around 20 million, larger than many European countries, is being run by bureaucrats who hardly have any understanding of the city and its problems.

With few funds available to the city that provides a large chunk of the federation’s revenues and supports almost 90pc of the provincial budget, there are not many proper municipal services available in Karachi. Outside DHA and other areas under cantonment boards, the country’s main financial hub looks like a garbage dump. An unmanageable influx of migrants has turned a large part of the city into a big slum with not even basic civic facilities.

There is no mass transit system in this mega city. Even the number of public buses has declined over the last few years, with it taking people hours to reach their workplace. What is described as motorcycle and six-sitter rickshaw revolution has helped ease the pressure. The number of two-wheelers has increased manifold with the availability of cheap motorcycles on easy instalments.

It is alleged that a major reason behind the PPP’s refusal to hold city government elections is to plunder the vast and lucrative real estates. How the situation has deteriorated during the previous and present tenures of the PPP-led government is incredible. The rapid rise of slums in the peripheries is going on side by side with the building of high-rise malls and apartment buildings along the seafront. Surely the arrival on the scene of real estate tycoon Malik Riaz has given a huge impetus to this construction boom, but the grapevine leads to former president Asif Zardari’s doorsteps.

A large number of houses in the periphery of the Bilawal House fortress have reportedly been bought up at market prices. ‘No’ is generally not taken as an answer when an offer is made. A large stretch of land on the Clifton beachfront is now the venue of high-rise apartment buildings. Reclaimed land is a bonanza for influential tycoons. Meanwhile, a new Bahria city is coming up in the outskirts of the city.

What makes the city tick despite all these problems? The answer probably lies in its resilience and dynamism. The cultural scene remains vibrant. By some estimates, the Karachi Literary Festival this year attracted an audience of at least 120,000 from across the board, much more than last year. But that resilience also makes it difficult to force a change. “One wishes the city was not that resilient,” remarks, Arif Hassan, a leading city planner and architect.

The writer is an author and journalist.

zhussain100@yahoo.com

Twitter: @hidhussain

Published in Dawn, February 18th, 2015

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