Cultural fusion: Malayali by heart, Pakistani by passport

Time of India

2 days ago

They speak Malayalam, savour pathiri, and cheer for Mohanlal. They belong to Pakistan yet are tethered to Kerala by memory and longing. Amid the ebb and flow of India-Pakistan relations, the resilient Malayali Muslim community in Pakistan stands as a testament to enduring cultural ties. Descendants of migrants from Kerala, the Malayalis in Karachi have preserved their language, traditions and cuisine for over a century, yet are an integral part of Pakistani society today.
Mehmood Ali, a garment factory owner in Karachi's bustling Lea Market, embodies this legacy. Video-calling from his factory, he smiled: 'You called me from my grandfather's homeland. How could I not show you around?' He panned his phone across a well-lit workspace where workers crafted premium garments for export. His grandparents migrated from Alappuzha and Thiruvananthapuram around 1916, along with 10 to 15 other Malayali families. 'They brought their language, food, and customs,' Mehmood said. As their businesses flourished, more families from Kerala joined, expanding the community.
Today, about 5,000 to 6,000 Malayalis live in Karachi, with a few in Islamabad and Lahore. In 1921, they founded the Malabar Muslim Jamaat (MMJ), one of Pakistan's oldest functioning Jamaats, anchoring cultural and social life.
Speaking to Mehmood, what stands out isn't just the historical anecdotes—it's the unapologetic Malayali identity he carries. Born in Karachi, and having visited India only once (Mumbai, 1988), his Malayalam is impressively fluent. I thought I'd have to switch to English. But Mehmood's command of Malayalam surpassed that of many native speakers.
He learned it from his parents and MMJ events. But it's more difficult now. 'After visa rules tightened in the late '80s, no one from Kerala could come here to teach. Today, we rely on YouTube and online lectures.' Still, the spirit endures. His children, fourth-generation Karachi-born, understand enough Malayalam to follow conversations at family gatherings.
Balancing identities, the community celebrates Pakistan's Independence Day with cultural programmes and cricket tournaments. 'We are proud Pakistanis,' says Mehmood, now MMJ president. 'But our cultural spine is rooted in Kerala.'
Yet, all is not rosy. Once thriving in Karachi's food scene with spicy eateries and tea joints, the community's presence has faded. Pashtun and Urdu-speaking migrants from post-Partition India brought their own cuisines, and Malabari establishments gradually declined. 'There was a time when you couldn't walk through Saddar or Lyari without spotting a Malabari hotel,' says Abdul Latif, whose grandparents came from Vadakara. He now runs a general store in Gizri. 'Today, only a few remain. One is Joona Masjid Hotel in Lyari, serving fish curry and parotta with nostalgic defiance.'
Latif, speaking in a North Malabar dialect, last visited Kerala in 2001 at age 16. Now 40, he still hopes to return. 'Recent India-Pakistan tensions had a strange fallout,' he laughs. 'My wife and I were removed from our family WhatsApp group in Kerala!' 'They said it was too sensitive to include us.'
He is also passionate about snacks. 'Relatives in the Gulf bring banana chips from Kerala. In return, they want Karachi's tooth powder and bubble gum.' He stays updated too. 'I watched the Eranjoli Bridge inauguration online and asked my cousins about traffic jams in Thalassery.'
Among the last cultural outposts is Joona Masjid Hotel, locally known as the Malabari Hotel, run by Abdul Rasheed Malabari. His grandparents migrated from Thalassery via Bombay in 1918. The hotel, now 80 years old, has been run by Rasheed for 15 years.
At 60, Rasheed speaks fluent Malayalam. He's visited Kerala four times, last in 1986. 'In childhood, many Malayali families lived here. But many returned to Kerala or moved to the Gulf. Now, few remain.' His hotel, still busy at lunch, serves fish curry, kallummakkaya (muzzles), irachi pathiri, and puttu—dishes prepared with recipes passed down through generations. 'Our food reminds people of home. That's why we're still here.' Rasheed, who married off three daughters and one son within the Malayali community, hopes to visit Kerala again. 'But with tensions between the countries, it seems unlikely. I can only hope.'
Despite changes around him, Rasheed clings to Malayalam films and comedy shows. 'I'm not into politics. But Mohanlal and Mammootty—we still adore them.' Malayalam cinema helps preserve the language. 'There's charm in hearing our language, even if we've never seen those places.'
What's remarkable isn't just that Malayalis live in Pakistan—but how. In a region divided by politics, this community lives in the grey: rooted in a homeland they've never seen, yet loyal to the one they call home.
They don't ask for repatriation or special status—only connection. They want visas, not for business but for sentiments. To walk the streets their grandparents spoke of, offer prayers in old mosques, smell banana or jackfruit chips frying fresh.
Senior Pakistani journalist Faiz Paracha captures the essence of their place in the nation's mosaic best: 'The Malayali community is a shining example of how cultural roots and national identity can coexist. Their dedication to language and heritage, while embracing their role as Pakistanis, adds depth to our multicultural identity. In a divided world, they quietly remind us that unity does not demand uniformity.'
The Jamaat remains the community's heart—organising language classes, welfare programmes and cultural events. For many, it is the closest they'll get to Kerala.
'Even though we're here, our roots are there,' Mehmood reflects. 'It's not about nationalism. It's about belonging.' He dreams of taking his children to Kerala. 'Not as tourists, but as family. To show them backwaters, temples and mosques. That would be enough.'
Let this be the story we tell—not of borders, but of bridges. Not of what separates us, but of what endures, he says.
(With reporting assistance from senior Pakistani journalists Faiz Paracha and Khuldune Shahid)
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