Once like the current multitudes in Chappals

These legs also walked your dusty streets

As this was home, but now all but lost in memory

Clifton Beach, Saddar and the market no

Empress would much care to bless.



Paan stains or is it the crimson of blood?

Of the many young and now old, pierced hate

The metal of unholy bullets in still bodies

Widows, orphans and the ravages of

Jinns let loose in the bazaars of fearful lives.



Peace once walked through this city but

Like Mir, sons died here for many perceived sins

And the loss has now reached the healer Hakim who

By educating children was pronounced guilty of doing good

Sentenced to death at age 78 to leave us horrified.



Many names not as famous come to mind too but

Space limits and the pain of this madness erases

Man dreams burnt in the hot Tandoors of hate

Bigotry, selfishness and the smoke of street heroin

All are now experiencing the futility of addiction.



Very easy it is to blame the outsiders for oppression

But amongst ourselves oozes a little truth

The City of Lights calls for an era that once was

When the people of Karachi lived around the clock

And were not forced to plead for peace

Like this beggar from the past.