The route to Umerkot (or Amarkot) from Karachi is a study in contrasts, the most obvious being the landscape. The arid terrain leading up to Hyderabad transitions into cultivated fields of rice, sugarcane and wheat, interspersed by mango and chikoo trees, as well as the occasional small herd of cattle and goats, on both sides of the double carriageway up to Mirpurkhas. Then, the road narrows to a single carriageway, but the distinct agrarian ambiance stays.
I arrive in Umerkot at dusk, almost seven hours after leaving Karachi. The city has descended into darkness due to a power shutdown but the mid-March evening is pleasantly cool.
Like other cities in the country, rickshaw drivers are the only tourist guides for visitors who do not come with references or have friends or relatives to go to.
I find the hotel hunt to be the most exciting part of going to a new place, and this time is no different, but for an average visitor this can be quite a daunting task.
Every town or city affects its first-time visitors with two or three things before opening up to reveal more. Seamlessly blended communities belonging to different religions (mostly Muslim and Hindu) engage one’s attention and are obvious in the most mundane of settings.
Two adjacent signboards in a commercial district, for instance, capture this: one says ‘Parshotam Khatri Advocate’; the other ‘Abdul Aziz Advocate’. The same goes for various shops and other businesses.
Mind you, this ethnic diversity is absent in large cities but characterises many towns in Pakistan; more so in rural Sindh and parts of Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, and it has done so for centuries.
Umerkot and its people capture what life is like in a quintessential rural town in the country
Mosques as well as temples abound. My rickshaw driver-cum-tour guide, Shahid Ali, referring to the communal harmony points out, “We don’t feel any difference living side by side in more or less equal numbers.”
There is a long crooked street with numerous jewellery shops, mostly owned by Hindu jewellers selling ethnic silver ornaments that Thari women wear. Reportedly, the population of non-Muslim Pakistanis in this region came down from 80 per cent at the time of Partition.
I ask for directions to the Kali Mata Temple from a vendor in one of the narrow streets. He instructs one of his colleagues to escort me there, who complies courteously. The temple is located in a cul-de-sac.
“Can I go inside?”
“Yes.”
“Will anyone mind if I took pictures?” I ask after entering the imposing temple.