A lazy afternoon spent with Elizabeth Colton was an added bonus. I first met Liz two summers ago in Islamabad. She was the spokeswoman for the American Embassy. Always available and always happy that you called, Liz made an unusual diplomat, that too an American. She knew Pakistani politics and who's who of our land like the back of her palm. Then one day she suddenly left. Transferred out. Dr Colton had been a journalist who had come and gone, reported and written, interviewed and analysed for decades past. “I'm back!” she laughed as we reconnected. “And I love Karachi.”

The next one hour, Liz updated me on the happenings in her adopted city. As the Public Affairs Officer at the US consulate general, Liz listed some amazing staff. “The floor is yours,” I said while I sat back enjoying the vibrancy and creativity around us. For a moment my mind absented itself to compare the cultural sterility of Islamabad. Banish the thought, my heart scolded.

“Karachi, the city in symbolic defiance against terrorism and violence and intolerance, is experiencing and inspiring a true cultural renaissance,” began Liz. “What's happening today is an explosive cultural surge that is evidenced in arts, music, theatre, dance, literature, the new media, fashion, lifestyle, architecture, newer institutions of higher education. The work being produced is world-class level. They are beginning to garner world attention and awards with talk of bigger prizes to come.” Liz's 'mini-lecture' resumed as we sat hearing young authors read from their wonderful works at the 'Second Floor.' The place brimmed with people one had known over the years. “Why can't we have something similar in Islamabad?” I said. But Liz was now truly a Karachiite who was all praise for the city government. “The mayor and his deputy, even if not acknowledged or appreciated by all because of one or anothers differing political affiliations, have done much to encourage this cultural urban flowering through city-wide programmes calling for the people of Karachi to take pride in their great city — to take ownership by proudly claiming it as 'our Karachi.'”

I wish I could say the same of our capital. I wish I could claim a “blossoming of coffee/tea houses and restaurants, new think tanks, bookshops and other real and virtual venues for book-readings and discussions with the new social media flourishing with bloggers taking on roles as social entrepreneurs working to transform their society in positive ways,” as Liz was staking for 'her city Karachi.'

Remember who designed the PIA uniform for its air stewardesses? Naheed Azfar, the woman whose designing flair caught Zia's attention as he and his missus sat to scrutinise designs displayed by the likes of Pierre Cardin and Hardy Amies. But Naheed was the winner. “Zia told me categorically not to put pockets on the shirt; no dupatta with pallu; no apron; no front open; no deep neck; no straight pajamas; no flashy colours; no kurtas; no long slits; no flimsy material. And of course the shirt must never be body hugging!” Keeping all these 'negatives' in mind, Naheed spent months designing and executing the winter and summer uniforms, including leather bags and shoes. She made many trips to the Army House to show the First Couple her works of art. Each time they came up with more of their advice. “Why can't you design a kamiz like the one you're wearing?” an exasperated Zia told her one day. “I don't want our air hostesses to wear a body hugging uniform.” (Zia must turn in his grave to see today's fashionable woman with long slits revealing all that needs to be revealed from head to toe!)

Naheed's designs were always unique, eclectic and stunning. Her creations had taken the fashionable women of Karachi by storm. Even her tapestries, carefully coordinated, dyed and woven, carried her stamp. But catering to Zia and his spouse's tastes was something Naheed had not bargained for when she entered the contest. Kudos to her for keeping her cool and creating clothes for the PIA women which bear her touches even today. Now here's the punch line PIA didn't pay her a penny! “I was told it was a matter of national honour and prestige for me to have been chosen!”

PIA short-changed Naheed Azfar. There was nothing she could do about it.

Currently Naheed is working on a book about costumes and embroidery of Balochistan. “I'm desperately looking for anyone from that area who has old embroidery pieces that will shed light on the rich history and culture.”

Raana Sheikh, another doyen of art and creativity lives in Karachi. She was secretary culture and later PTV head during BB's 2nd term. Raana made a name in TV plays — acting and producing. She was superb. “Now the TV entertainment channels want us to copy Indian style of décor, acting, script — the full works. This is simply disgusting! It's totally unacceptable to me.” She had a hard time convincing her sponsors not to copy Savaria, the Indian drama when she produced Kaisa yeh junoon. “Mine was a serious story on terrorism but a TV channel head wanted me to have blue net curtains, a woman in green sari and peacocks in the poster. I refused. I won.”

Those of us who know Raana will vouch she's a strong woman with strong views. I've interviewed her over the decades. Her talent is matchless. Just as Karachi has matured like old wine, so have people like Naheed Azfar and Raana Sheikh. Treasure them.

anjumniaz@rocketmail.com