The buses are the first things to strike me in the main huddle that is Tariq Road, Karachi. Silver, carefully and colourfully decorated with horns sounding like crazed dinosaurs.
They tend to stop wherever they want - with request stops included. They race around the city sometimes leaning on the corners precariously, the ticket seller hanging from the front or back. And there's always more room on the top, giving a new meaning to the "double-decker" idea. (Or maybe the open - top bus.)
Inside the seats are already packed tightly together and the aisle is always full. The 'conductor' usually a skinny fellow, squeezes between standing passengers, clicking the thumb and middle finger for tickets. He holds a wad of notes in his left hand.
Women (and foreigners) are given the choice of a seat near the front of the driver - a designated area - where there is marginally more space, mainly due to the huge gearbox. It is more interesting to ride inside with the Karachi-ites.
Stopping and starting the bus, for people to get on and off is usually done by the young conductor rapping the side of the carriage and shouting destinations.
A Karachi Bus
At traffic stops - red lights and the like - a crowd of street sellers and beggars flock round: men selling coconut cut into manageable crescents, or sesame sellers, transgender folk begging for alms, other beggars young and old.
One evening, while Ali the Iranian is still there, he gets this absurd idea to take me on one of these buses to Sohrab Goth. Being still in my single man travelling mode, I agreed.
Sohrab Goth seems to be at the edge of the known universe. We travel forever, only to get down at a dusty, dusk-lit cowboy town. There are men with straggly beards sitting in groups drinking their evening tea. On seeing me they shout barrabar! which I interpret to mean "brother." We share a cup of tea. There are no signs of the infamous guns associated with the place.
The ride back, by bus, is manic and rivals the Star Ship Enterprise at warp drive. There are only Ali and I and a conductor in the passenger seats on board. The driver gets it in his head to race another bus to Tariq Road. We blaze through crowded streets, lights flashing and I half expect to enter another universe.
Of course, we arrive intact late into the night. I have to get ready for the next day.
Sohrab Goth, Karachi.
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