Karachi Us Zamanay Ka

Karachi Us Zamanay Ka Contact information, map and directions, contact form, opening hours, services, ratings, photos, videos and announcements from Karachi Us Zamanay Ka, Landmark & historical place, Scottsdale, AZ.

Jamil Chacha Tram Driver 1945He worked the Saddar-Boulton Market line. People recognized his tram bell, 3 - 2 - 3, clang...
06/08/2019

Jamil Chacha Tram Driver 1945

He worked the Saddar-Boulton Market line. People recognized his tram bell,

3 - 2 - 3, clang clang clang - clang clang - clang clang clang

as he turned near Singer Showroom, and hurried to the tram stop.

Joining as Fitter, over years he became Driver, known and trusted. Punctual to the minuit, his tram, 842, was clean, serviced, with no one allowed to ride standing.

He knew families by name, seeing boys mature to men. On occasion he carried pregnant women ready to birth, a mad man with a knife.

One day the dreaded Hadji Dhui, Mongolian Magician climbed aboard ... but that is another tale.

Once after torrential rains, Saddar flooded and Bunder Rd turned into a river. All traffic ceased and people risked getting marooned.

Relatives waited at Saddar terminus drenched in rain, and sure enough the clangs sounded, and 842 turns the corner at Gulzar Hotel looking more like a boat than a tram, and people disembarked and hurried home.

Then one day, news came that Jamil Chacha was retired and that day was his last.

He brought in the 5:30 pm, surprised to find half Saddar turned out.

He pulled out the lever and walked to the other end and fixed it. Straight of back, now white haired but sturdy, he slipped 842 into gear and rolled away. At Singer Showroom the tram turned West and disappeared.

Then, clear as day sounded, for the last time:

Clang clang clang - clang clang - clang clang clang.

SO ITS NOT FORGOTTEN I write of the Old City for the coming generations, so it’s stories are not forgotten.I avoid web s...
06/08/2019

SO ITS NOT FORGOTTEN

I write of the Old City for the coming generations, so it’s stories are not forgotten.

I avoid web searches and tell the stories based on what I remember, and what elders told, when I was growing up in the safe, uncrowded streets.

So many members of this Forum love the stories of those days, and I read their heart felt responses, and feel encouraged.

Every time I sit to write, memories of bygone days come rushing upon me, and overwhelm me.

Faces forgotten these forty years, come alive again, smiling, youthful, hopeful.

Look! It’s Diwali the Hindu Festival, and all shops are shuttered in Mochi Gali, and streets given over to children of all communities to play in. In the evening we’ll all get laddoo, bhel, samosa and sent home.

On to my home on Preedy Street, it’s 3 am. I remember standing sleepless at the ground floor window of my home, perhaps 7 or 8 years old, waiting for the camel carts to come by from Malir laden with vegetables, with bells sounding on the legs of the great beasts, you hear the the CHCHING CHCHING CHCHING pass by till they reach Mama Parsi School on Bunder Road when the carts turn left for Bolton Market.

The Baloch cart drivers typically slept all the way from Malir to Mandi and the camels guided themselves unerringly over 20 miles in the dark.

I remember Gari Khata before it became Pakistan Chowk with scores of horses standing free of their carriages in afternoon heat at water troughs.

I remember the lions roaring in the night at far off Sarkari Bageecha. Perhaps they too were remembering a Karachi they’d lost somewhere.

I remember Bellock Uncle, the burly Irish Peacekeeper of Preedy Street, a retired Guard from Railway who spoke perfect Hindustani who chose to make the City his home.

They tell me the Karachi I remember is largely gone.

How can it go when I can remember it.

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Scottsdale, AZ

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