From Zelin’s Coffee House around Victoria and Bunder Road, to Café Parisian, and the Irani tea houses — Karachi’s coffee and tea houses were once home to the city’s writers, poets, artists, students and anyone who wanted to strike up a conversation or read a newspaper. They weren’t mere tea or coffee houses but rather spaces that reflected the city’s diverse political, intellectual and cultural landscape. The city’s mohallas [neighbourhoods] were vibrant spaces of interaction that brought people together, unlike today’s grid systems, gated communities and myriad of apartment complexes that have created a strong disconnect.

The streets of Lyari would see baithaks/mehfils [gatherings] in the evenings, while houses in PECHS would host mushairas. These small exchanges compounded into an ecosystem of interconnectivity and culture that was formalised in the institutional growth of the 1960s, with spaces such as the Rangoonwala Community Centre opening their doors for the public to have a space dedicated to this form of socialisation.

Local and migrant cultures have shaped Karachi’s landscape — it has always been a city of arrival, with migrants’ relocation coloured by dreams of a better life, whether that came with a job or the buzzing environment that the city promised. This dream was taken up by the city of the past as clubs and cinemas opened their doors to the ever-growing public, and jazz bands and artists flourished due to the encouragement that the people gave them. In its true fashion as the city of arrival, Karachi gave its people the agency to define its spaces.

A DREAM DESTROYED

With the rise of Islamisation shutting down the nightlife of the city, and political violence marring its streets, a slow downward spiral began. Gen Ziaul Haq fortified this disconnect with Karachi’s past during his reign — the combination of the Hudood Ordinances and increased surveillance of public spaces fortified censorship and stifled dialogue in universities and other intellectual spaces, divorcing knowledge from broader socio-political contexts.

Communal spaces and projects have played a historic role in uniting Karachi’s diverse population — creating platforms to interact with the very people we share the city with. But, in the wake of rampant violence and political plays to consolidate power, the city has lost its connection to these spaces and the enrichment they brought

The advent of violence in different parts of Karachi led to the political robbery of community centres after they were used as polling stations, thus changing people’s engagement with the idea of ‘shared’ spaces permanently. There was no longer a ‘third space’ that you could loiter in and occupy — or at least not one that was accessible to all. The normalisation of this lifestyle created a perpetual image of Karachi as a fast-paced, metropolitan city where culture and preservation have ‘never taken root.’ And one continues to witness this kind of control and change of landscape in various areas, such as changing the future of Frere Hall Gardens, where the decision of fencing is still a constant advocacy — where, through the narrative of securitisation and surveillance, the future leans towards protecting from loitering.

While some citizens may remember what Karachi was and everything it once stood for, there are limitations to what memory can do. The present lack of community spaces prevents the experience and connection necessary for people to understand their importance, perpetuating the narrative that these spaces are a ‘luxury.’ These spaces are an integral part of an urban landscape, as The Second Floor’s (T2F) founder Sabeen Mahmud put it, “How could we become agents of social change if our theatre practitioners had no rehearsal spaces, if our underground musicians had no venues to perform in, if our emerging artists had nowhere to hang their work? How could creative dissidents even learn of each other’s existence, let alone build and cultivate a community, without physical spaces where people could talk politics?” In simpler terms, these spaces serve as a ‘living room’ for society, creating opportunities for interaction and loitering in a city that thrives on its diversity.

Importantly, they also serve as a means of intellectual investment. By bringing in people from different walks of life, one can curate conversations and understanding regarding the issues that plague our society from perspectives one may not have considered otherwise. This notion is compounded when you connect it to institutions that are built to foster inquisitiveness, such as museums, galleries and libraries that people can feel connected to. Having spaces for dialogue, interaction, or simply to sit and take in the city are important because they build a connection to the city we inhabit and the people we share it with. Karachi is desperately in need of a revival of such spaces.

As a heritage advocate and practitioner, I struggle in understanding the on-the-ground ideology and lack of commitment to preserve. One understands that this situation that Karachi finds itself in, one of constant decay and disregard, is the result of multiple issues — stretching from governmental neglect, lack of cultural and preservation-related investment in the city, leading to how we have normalised the lack of historical and cultural spaces. Karachi is constantly commercialising its main arteries through dozens of restaurants and increased commercial chaos. However, there are hardly any cultural centres that are catering to the needs of these neighbourhoods.

PROBLEMS WITH INFRASTRUCTURE

The lack of infrastructural support from the government has meant that those attempting to make a change are often stopped dead in their tracks. Individuals oftentimes have to take permission from the government in order to conduct projects, such as public talks, open mic sessions, open air theatre performances, cultural gatherings, painting murals, etc., all of which are necessary for the enrichment of the city’s environment. While this is not an issue on paper, in reality this means that the approval for these activities often comes under the discretion of officials that one cannot challenge or question — either to understand the fairness of the decision or to create a better proposal. The way the government uses its authority comes into question here.

A local artist recently approached the Pakistan Chowk Community Centre (PCCC) in Karachi about painting a large mural in the city. The artist had received funding and support from the Fearless Collective, a popular international movement of artists, and all they needed was a wall to paint. Yet, despite seemingly meeting the criteria necessary and requiring minimal support from the government, this request was still rejected. The lack of explanation and engagement with the artist left them with no way forward, and the search for a space is still ongoing.

While this may seem like a low-stakes issue, it speaks to a larger concern. If artists who are able to fund and sustain their own practices are still not accepted by the city, then how do we create an environment that is inclusive and benefits from the arts? And, at the opposite end of this spectrum, the mayor of Karachi uses commercial paint companies to ‘beautify’ the walls without any pre-conceived plan or thought process.

The bigger concern, though, is that most artists don’t tend to find themselves in the fortunate position of being able to make a living off their work. There are countless creatives from all over the city that either abandon their pursuit of the arts, or make countless sacrifices in order to continue to bring their works to life. While the government has made numerous promises about protecting these artists and providing for their welfare through schemes and funds, the facts show a different story.

The Government of Sindh’s Culture, Tourism, Antiquities and Archives Department has an endowment fund called “Endowment Fund for Needy Writers, Poets, and Artists” that is meant to work for the “welfare of intellectuals and public heroes.” However, the amount given has been steadily declining over the last few years. From 2020 to 2022, the total amount given has fallen from Rs 25.36 million to Rs 10.54 million, with the number of beneficiaries falling from 379 to just 82 individuals. The fact that information pertaining to this fund — including the exact amount of money shared and the artists it is directed towards — has not yet been fully disclosed speaks to the issue of transparency.

The cause of this reduction in funds is unclear, but this muddled, opaque process of ‘protection’ is likely one that compounds it. The lack of public, open calls for projects, exhibits, or other endeavours by the state means that there are limited opportunities for aspiring creatives to work with the government — leaving them to depend on grants and welfare schemes to make ends meet. Even within those spaces, the conditions tend to limit the demographic of people that can be benefitted. The aforementioned endowment fund presents a minimum age limit of 50 years in order to be eligible to apply, as detailed in the application form, thus discouraging the growth of aspiring artists who need resources.

This lacklustre approach is heavily contrasted by the efforts of civil society, with large art events such as The Karachi Biennale, the All Pakistan Music Conference (APMC) and smaller institutions (such as art galleries) consistently reaching out to rising artists and providing the patronage and opportunities necessary for these individuals to use their skills.

FUNDING AND SUSTAINABILITY

Our review of the Sindh Government’s Department of Culture, Tourism, and Antiquities revealed that they received approximately Rs 3 billion in their annual budget, which was to be divided between its four departments: archaeology and museums, culture, excavation and exploration, and the Planning, Development, Monitoring and Implementation (PDMI) and Exploration cell. Relevant to this piece, the Archaeology and Museums department received around Rs 500 million. Conversations with officials in the department revealed that approximately half of this budget is doled out in the form of salaries to the 350 people who currently hold a position in the department (out of 750 posts). Museums in particular receive only Rs 50 million, out of which most of the money is directed towards salaries and the general maintenance of the museums that operate under the department.

Already underfunded, this amount isn’t directed entirely towards the needs of the department. Approximately 10 percent of this money is subject to income tax, while around 17 percent is subjected to GST and service taxes when used for procurement or development of new projects. This financial load is precisely why there are only two museums under the aforementioned department in the boundaries of Karachi — namely Wazir Mansion, and Quaid-i-Azam House — with most new projects finding spaces in other portions of Sindh as they are cheaper to develop (due to land prices and other such concerns). A proposal was built under the previous director of Archaeology and Museums for a city museum designed for the people of Karachi, representative of their history and culture. But it was ultimately struck down due to the price tag attached to the project.

This lack of funding towards such institutions also extends to federal projects — most visibly with the National Museum. The budgetary constraints and ineffective allocation of funds that are given is shown in the lack of maintenance for the building and the poor curation of the exhibits that are presented. Although boasting an impressive collection — marked as one that possesses some of the oldest available objects, such as stone tools — the lack of a professional touch has manifested in poor presentations, with little to no context or explanations for the objects shown, and an exhibit that feels thrown together for the purpose of filling up the museum.

Comparatively, vibrant spaces such as the Mohatta Palace Museum present a hopeful picture of how these spaces can look in Karachi. However, they are forced to spend their resources combating frivolous issues that could be easily prevented with support from the government. For instance, the Mohatta Palace Museum is currently under litigation, with the litigants claiming that the space should ‘rightfully’ be transformed into a dental institute — a claim that is increasingly frustrating when coupled with the thought that there are already 14 dental institutes operating in Karachi, which far outnumbers the amount of museums we have.

While public-private partnerships, such as the Mohatta Palace Museum, the National Academy of Performing Arts (NAPA), and the Karachi Arts Council all have a forecasted yearly budget that they can depend on, smaller, community-based organisations such as Mehr Ghar in Lyari and T2F have no steady budget that they can operate from. Their dependence on grants from personal funds to international organisations, such as the Goethe Institute or the Open Society Foundation, often results in unsustainable development for these spaces. While the money helps sustain the operation and temporarily improves accessibility by preventing heavy financial dependence on those that occupy the space, they aren’t reliable or long term solutions to the financial needs of these community spaces.

T2F shutting its door during Covid-19, and re-opening as a space that curates events rather than providing a communal space for people to enter whenever they would like, is a prime example of this. While the price of operations, paying of salaries, utilities, and other things makes these shifts understandable, the financial barriers it creates poses a great challenge to how much of the community can and will choose to use these spaces.

This struggle is best exemplified by Mehr Ghar’s current predicament, wherein the community is warming up to its presence by regularly attending its events, and visiting its cafe and library. Yet, the older generation continues to demand that the founders attach no price tag to using these facilities (through donations or otherwise), believing that spaces for ‘social welfare’ should exist for free, or at subsidised rates. This mindset, while having its merits in making social spaces accessible, forces the founders of such spaces to take on heavy financial sacrifices — with Sabeen maxing out her credit cards for T2F, and Muhammad Faheem and Parveen Naz selling their house to invest in Mehr Ghar — that cannot be sustained or expected if we want more such community centres to open their doors.

LACKING QUALIFICATIONS AND SKILLS

Community centres that are run by individuals and private organisations tend to thrive due to the expertise and interest of those involved. In stark contrast, spaces run by the government tend to be in worse condition. The current state of spaces in the public sector is also a result of the people who are involved in their creation. Perhaps one of the biggest issues that we face here is the dearth of professionals who have training and experience in the fields of curation, museology, and related departments — with the unqualified taking the positions that they should have filled.

The importance of experience and qualifications in these positions becomes important when we compare museum spaces across Karachi. Under the current superintendent of the National Museum, who is a diploma holder in civil engineering, the museum maintains itself as a dull building that exists for the sake of having a national museum. With randomly curated objects that hold seemingly no relevance or importance in Karachi’s history, and with the objects that are significant simply placed in glass boxes with no accompanying explanation, visitors tend to walk by all the exhibits and leave with no desire or reason to return — content with the fact that they’ve ‘seen’ the museum.

This also leads to another important discussion about the relation of these museums with the city. There are no membership categories for the Sindh domicile, no conducting of weekly workshops for children to learn history and archaeological methodologies from guides and curators, and there are no volunteer programmes for senior citizens to keep them engaged after retirement. It is imperative that these museums build a regional network with local art institutes and publish a monthly gazette to keep civil society updated.

Compare this to spaces such as the National History Museum managed by Citizens Archive of Pakistan (CAP) in Lahore, the TDF Magnfiscience Centre opened by the Dawood Foundation, or the State Bank of Pakistan Museum spearheaded by Asma Ibrahim — institutions crafted with the enjoyment of visitors in mind, with interactive exhibits, interesting explanations, and spaces for people to sit and ponder about the information that they are taking in.

Karachi, despite being the biggest and most diverse city of Pakistan, doesn’t have a people’s museum or a community museum. Vibrant small-scale places such as the Mehr Ghar, T2F and TDF Ghar have significant potential, and Karachi needs more spaces like this that connect with the city’s fabric and its people. Such spaces are sporadic because individuals cannot alone create, fund and sustain them. The government needs to have more public-private partnerships. Partnering with private individuals, grassroots activists and organisations will allow them to work past the lack of trained professionals and initiative in the government, thus benefiting from the insight and experience they’ve garnered through their efforts in this field.

The government could also call on qualified people to help curate, maintain and develop museums, and other spaces that fall under them. For this to work, they need to give these groups the space and autonomy to actually do their job. Previous attempts at this have been rife with misunderstandings and inaction, evidenced by an encounter Asma shared with us about when she was asked by the government to develop and curate a collection in only 15 days. To meaningfully involve the right people, government officials need to ensure they give the experts the room and time to showcase their abilities.

On the other hand, specialists such as the Citizens Archive of Pakistan (CAP), who continue to develop projects internationally and represent Pakistan on global platforms, have shared many small and large scale international standard museum proposals with the Government of Sindh. CAP even shortlisted some heritage buildings for preservation after extensive research, yet the government continues to engage with non-technical experts and disengages with experts that have experience.

BUILDING SHARED SPACES

The direction that we need to take with these institutions is simple. For far too long, we have lived without spaces that are built for the intellectual stimulation of people. Relying on that to be an accidental by-product of building museums and galleries just for the sake of it is not enough. The community needs to come together and give birth to these spaces, with areas designed for the people, by the people.

As an urban thinker and advocate, I can’t seem to stop documenting and adding to my constant city studies on how many small and large scale mosques are built within a 50-100 meter distance of each other in newly developed urban zones and congested areas. Mosques universally serve as a space to learn and develop intellectual and social well-being. But in Pakistan, mosques are only really utilised five times a day for about an hour, and yet they continues to occupy so much space without engaging with the community — apart from delivering routine religious sermons. Urban zones need to include cultural dialogue spaces, small and community scale size museums, and town halls for community engagement.

But we can’t do this alone, and the government must step up. Building a relationship with these spaces is important. Providing the finances necessary, conducting workshops to better understand the predicaments of these communities while training them to resolve them, and opening a dialogue with the very mohallas that the state ignores, until the elections come around, is imperative. The government must implement stringent bylaws that make it compulsory for property developers to include such spaces when designing the layout for new housing societies.

There’s a lesson to be learnt from the 2016 revamping of Pakistan Chowk in Saddar by the PCCC, in the midst of scepticism from the local population exclaiming, “Faida kya hai — wapas toot jaye ga [What’s the point — it’ll once again fall into disrepair].” While our optimism pushed us through and let us create a vibrant space at first, their claims eventually stood true. Eight years later, the chowk is once again broken down — a symbol of the unfulfilled promises of support and maintenance from the government. The government must give communities the space to work and the resources to ensure that these projects are sustained.

Project Heritage Walk Karachi (HWK) — which showcases important sections of the city’s pre and post partition history through three hour walking tours in Karachi’s Saddar area — has been witness to the architectural deterioration and decay plaguing the city. On many occasions, HWK has invited the district south commissioner, the assistant commissioner, heritage director and various government officials working in Karachi to join the session in an attempt to learn and understand the city through our lens.

Pioneers such as Sabeen and Perween Rahman showed us the possibilities that these spaces can create, and activists like Faheem, Naz, and Sabina Khatri (founder of Kiran Foundation) are showing us the incredible work that can be done through community centres and grassroots organisations. It’s time to give them the power to do what they do best, to utilise expertise from the community, and to develop such community centres through government support and local grants.

This essay is dedicated to Sabeen Mahmud — whose absence is still felt deeply more than nine years after her passing — and to all the women who have worked very hard in making Karachi culturally, artistically and intellectually rich.

Marvi Mazhar is the principal architect at Marvi Mazhar and Associates (MMA). X: @marvimazhar Research Assistants at MMA Manahil Faisal, Mustapha Vasi and Samina Leghari contributed to this piece. The maps have been developed by MMA’s team: Pashmina Memon and M Imran Khan

Published in Dawn, EOS, September 15th, 2024