Before coming to Pakistan, my closest connection to the country was my grandfather, who had worked in Karachi for a year before Partition. He had spoken highly of the city so, if there was one place I had to visit during my short tour of the country, it was Karachi.The beach is just 30 km away from the scene of cricketing action in the port city but, unfortunately, I had to spend most of my day around the National Stadium, an area called Sadar. With deadlines to meet, and the media centre shutting down, I was rapidly getting into a tizzy, when stadium scorer Noman Nazir appeared, offering to drive me around in search of a cybercafe.The 23-year-old student of public administration and cricket fanatic was keen to dispell my doubts about the (un)safety factor. ‘‘There is no problem. Sab theek hai yahan, media ne kharab kiya hai naam,’’ he told me as he drove me into the busy market area. It is 10 in the night, and the place is still buzzing and cybercafes are still open, if expensive.After I finish filing my story, Nazir advises me to tuck away my press card. ‘‘Otherwise people will be constantly asking you why you’re here,’’ he says. I do as I’m told, and for the next half-hour, Nazir drives me all over town before stopping at an old restaurant so I could get to eat kababs ‘‘made only in Karachi’’. All through the ride, I notice scores of people on their way back from work, families and kids relaxing in the cool night air. There’s no sign of any tension anywhere.LINKING UP WITH LINKING ROADAs match day dawns, I find myself in the downtown Clifton area, another locality familiar to us across the border. Some walls bear slogans of the separatist Muttahaida Quami Movement (MQM), but they appear to be years old.On Saturday some of us decide to check out the Main Tariq Road, Karachi’s shopping centre. Immediately, we draw parallels with Linking Road, the teeming crowds and the frenzied shopping familiar to all of us from Mumbai.THIS ONE’S FOR GRANDADAfter a hectic two days, when the time comes to check out, another local helps me out. His name is Deewan Das, one of the many Hindus whose families chose to stay back in Pakistan. As we complete the check-out formalities, Das requests all of us to come back again. ‘‘We have lived here for ages, and I can assure you there’s no better place,’’ he says. I can almost see my grandfather nodding.
