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Express Tribune
21-03-2025
- Express Tribune
Karachi: Traffic plan for Youm-e-Ali announced
Listen to article The Karachi traffic police have unveiled a detailed traffic management plan to ensure smooth movement during the central Youm-e-Ali (RA) procession, scheduled for Saturday, March 22, in observance of the martyrdom anniversary of Hazrat Ali ibn e Abi Talib (RA). The main congregation will be held at Nishtar Park on the 21st of Ramadan, followed by the central procession, which is set to begin at 1:00 PM. To manage the procession efficiently, M.A. Jinnah Road will be closed to regular traffic from Guru Mandir to Tower. Traffic police will guide motorists through alternative routes to prevent congestion. The procession will start from Nishtar Park, passing through Numaish, M.A. Jinnah Road, Sea Breeze, and Empress Market in Saddar. It will continue via Saddar Regal and Tibet Centre, rejoining M.A. Jinnah Road and finishing at Hussainia Imambargah in Kharadar via Bolton Market. To help ease traffic flow, the authorities have provided alternative routes for commuters: Vehicles coming from Nazimabad should use Lasbela Chowk and Nishtar Road towards Garden. Those travelling from Liaquatabad should head towards Teen Hatti, Lasbela Chowk, and Central Jail. Motorists from Hasan Square can be diverted via Kashmir Road towards Society Light Signal to reach PP Chowrangi. Traffic from Jail Flyover will be directed to Teen Hatti and Nishtar Road. Vehicles on Shahrah-e-Quaideen heading towards Numaish will be diverted to Kashmir Road via Society Light Signal. Commuters from Jamshed Road to Guru Mandir can use Bahadur Yar Jang Road and Soldier Bazaar. Traffic police have urged motorists to plan their travel ahead and follow the instructions to avoid disruptions during the procession.
Arab News
17-03-2025
- Business
- Arab News
Pakistan sees uptick in economic activity as consumer spending surges in Ramadan
KARACHI: Khadeeja Manzoor haggled with a vendor at a busy market in Pakistan's Karachi over the price of vegetables. The sight is not an unusual one in Pakistan, especially during the holy month of Ramadan, where people flock to fruit and vegetable markets in thousands daily to buy food items. Muslims break their fast with the evening iftar meal during the holy month of Ramadan, consuming dishes prepared with fruits and vegetables in large amounts. This triggers a surge in consumer spending significantly during the holy month, one that increases sales at grocery stores and marketplaces. 'Our spending increases during Ramadan,' Manzoor, 45, told Arab News. 'They (actually) double because though the prices of vegetables have declined a bit, other things have become costlier,' she added. Pakistan has long grappled with an economic crisis that saw inflation surge to a historic 38 percent in May 2023. However, the government has since then achieved some economic gains, with the country's monthly inflation rate dropping to 1.5 percent in February on a year-on-year basis. Dry fruit seller Wasib Abbasi noted that people spent more on items such as Rooh Afza, a sugary drink considered a staple Ramadan diet, and dates during the holy month. This causes a surge in sales during Ramadan, he added. 'Our sales remain normal during the first 15 days of Ramadan but significantly increase during the second half,' Abbasi, who runs a store selling dry fruits at the busy Empress Market, told Arab News. Financial analyst Muhammad Waqas Ghani agrees the increased demand for food items and the increased inflow of remittances to Pakistan during Ramadan supplements the country's economic growth. He said Pakistan usually sees a rise of 20 percent in remittances during the holy month every year. Remittances are a lifeline for Pakistan's cash-strapped economy, playing a critical role in stabilizing foreign exchange reserves and supporting its balance of payments. Overseas Pakistanis remitted $3.1 billion in February. 'Ramadan does have a significant economic angle. Demand rises in food, lifestyle, and other areas like footwear,' Ghani, the head of research at JS Global Capital Ltd., a commodities brokerage company, told Arab News. During Ramadan, commercial banks also deduct billions of rupees from people's accounts on account of the annual Islamic charity, Zakat. Ghani said the circulation of Zakat funds among the masses also increases their purchasing power, which leads to more consumer spending. Atiq Mir, chairman of the All Karachi Tajir Ittehad (AKTI), a body of over 400 trade groups in the southern port city, described Ramadan as the 'spring month' for traders and citizens alike in terms of both divine blessings and material gains. 'The way people come to bazaars with their children gives a good look,' Mir said, adding that trade 'runs above normal' during the holy month. 'Given the size of its population, Karachi alone is a Rs100 billion market if people came out proportionately for Eid shopping only.'
Express Tribune
10-03-2025
- Business
- Express Tribune
A beacon of hope in times of profiteering
The Night Fruit Market in Saddar is a shining example of kindness and generosity. This unique market offers fresh fruits at wholesale rates, defying the norm of profiteering and embodying the true spirit of the holy month. PHOTO: EXPRESS Ramazan is the month of charity, self-discipline, and empathy, but there are those, especially traders and shopkeepers, who try to make the most of this holy month by indulging in hoarding and profiteering. Some people, however, stand tall in the midst of such callousness imbibing the true spirit of Ramazan and blazing a trail. One such example is the "Night Fruit Market," located next to Empress Market and in front of Jahangir Park in Saddar. This unique market has become a popular destination for those looking for fresh fruits at reduced prices during the fasting month. The market, which operates 24 hours a day, offers a much-needed relief to people reeling from back-breaking inflation. Night Fruit Market in-charge Malik Khan said that there are around 400 fruit carts at the market, each selling a variety of seasonal fruits. These vendors buy their fruits from Sabzi Mandi in bulk, which helps them keep prices competitive. On average, cart owners earn a profit of Rs50 to Rs100 per crate of fruit. "This is the most affordable fruit market in Karachi," said Khan. "During Ramazan, the prices here are even lower than the official rates. Compared to other areas in the city, fruits are sold here at a discount of 50 to 70 per cent," he claimed. Najibullah, a local fruit vendor, said that they see the highest traffic at night, especially during Ramazan when the market remains busy well into the hours before sehri. "There is a steady flow of customers throughout the night, making it one of the busiest times for us," he added. For Asad Khan, another fruit vendor in the market, the lower prices make it a popular spot. He listed the prices which are considerably lower than in other parts of the metropolis. At his cart, bananas are available for Rs50 to Rs80 per dozen; watermelon, Rs120 to Rs150 per kg; native papaya, for Rs140 per kg; apples, Rs120 to Rs200 per kg; melon, Rs50 to Rs70 per kg; kino, Rs250 to Rs300 per dozen; guava, Rs140 per kg; and strawberries are selling for Rs200 to Rs300 per kg. Hina Khatoon, a resident of Lyari, said that she is satisfied with the prices at the market, particularly during Ramazan when fruits are in high demand for Iftar. "Fruits are very expensive in our area, but here at the Night Fruit Market, we can purchase them at a reasonable price. Women can shop without fear even late at night," Hina added. Muhammad Haroon, a resident of Safoora, endorsed Hina, saying that fruit prices are extremely high in other parts of the city. "Fruits are being sold above the official prices in most areas. The government should take stronger steps to control prices, especially during Ramazan, so that even families with limited resources can afford to feed their children fruits at Iftar."
Express Tribune
24-02-2025
- Entertainment
- Express Tribune
Tracing roots in a tired city: A heritage walk through Karachi
A love letter to Karachi—loud, layered, relentless—a city that demands to be remembered, even as it forgets itself. Amma would listen to Sharafat Ali Khan on a Sunday, remembering Naani, while Naana would get teary-eyed hearing this particular phrase, lost in memories of her. "Tu mujhe chor kar chali bhi gayi, khair, qismat meri, naseeb mere, ab main kyun tujh ko yaad karta hoon, jab tere sheher se guzarta hoon." (You left me and went away—well, that's my fate, my destiny. Why should I remember you now, when I pass through your city?) Amma, too, would feel a profound grief stirred by those words of love. But I would always listen to this song thinking how beautiful it is to have remnants of a lover scattered across the city, experiencing different emotions as you walk by those familiar streets. As a member of an immigrant community in this city, for the longest time, I have felt foreign in my own skin, trying to find a sense of belonging. Sometimes in the form of hanging out at the cafes with my friends, sometimes reading the literature in my second language, Urdu, sometimes it is acceptance of the fact that maybe I will never fully belong anywhere, but the stories I tell will stay alive everywhere. However, this Saturday, I experienced a sense of belonging while walking through the streets I've passed by for years. After all, who doesn't know Saddar—its endless traffic jams, often seen as both a nuisance and the very essence of Karachi? But perspective changes with time. As I walked those familiar streets as a 24-year-old writer, camera in hand, I saw them differently—through the eyes of an amateur capturing moments that once seemed ordinary. This city, to me, is like a healthy relationship—constantly evolving, living through countless lives, yet never losing its hustle and bustle. It shelters people, helping them carve out their own identities, and offers poetic inspiration at every corner. If you look closely at the people in this city, everyone has a dream, which is one of the most beautiful things about this city. This Saturday was different. I joined an Urban Heritage Walk in Karachi, organized by Kitab Ghar in collaboration with Lahore Awargi. Our walk began in the heart of Saddar—a district both vibrant and weary from decades of stories carried by its dust and stone. The participants were supposed to get art inspiration from the locations around them, and they did not disappoint. The first stop was Empress Market, a colonial-era relic built in 1889, once a symbol of British authority. Now, it hums with the pulse of Karachi's present: the aroma of coriander, the bright reds of chilies, and the everyday poetry of bargaining voices. This place, in all its chaos, becomes a metaphor for the resilience of those who live in the spaces history forgot. It has also served as a cinematic backdrop in films like Armaan (1966), where Waheed Murad and Zeba's moments captured the city's raw vibrancy. Moving toward Bohri Bazaar, the streets narrowed, but their stories expanded. Every shopkeeper seemed like a custodian of memories, each offering threads of Karachi's rich cultural tapestry. Near the Bohra Jamatkhana, an architectural gem for its community, the air seemed thick with unspoken reverence. It was here I remembered Faiz Ahmed Faiz's lines: "Yeh daagh daagh ujala, yeh shab-gazida sehr, yeh woh sehr to nahin, jiski arzoo lekar, Chale thay yaar ke mil jayegi kahin na kahin." (This blemished light, this night-bitten dawn—this is not the dawn we longed for, the one we set out for.) In these words, the ache of promises unfulfilled echoed against the walls, yet hope shimmered through every crack. The Iranian Tea Market was warm with familiarity—chipped cups of steaming chai, the clink of spoons, and conversations stretching like the steam from the tea itself. There, strangers become companions, and stories are traded more generously than coins. Passing by dhabbas, I watched a man pour chai with practiced grace, and it struck me how this simple beverage has become a metaphor for love in our nation. Chai comforts, brings people together, and, like love, it simmers slowly before it warms you to the core. In Saddar Bazaar, life moved like an unstoppable river—chaotic, loud, yet comforting. Among the crowd, I noticed stray cats, initially wary, their eyes reflecting a lifetime of survival. Yet, with a soft touch and patient presence, they melted into affection, embodying a silent lesson in empathy. If we, as a city, nurtured such gentleness towards our animals, perhaps it would ripple outward, softening the city's hard edges. Signature public buses, vibrant with wild patterns and metallic embellishments, roared through the streets. Their chaotic, almost rebellious colors somehow fit perfectly into the city's aesthetic—a moving testament to Karachi's unapologetic character. At Quaid-e-Azam's residence, solemnity replaced the city's usual chaos. The air felt heavy with history, as if Jinnah's quiet determination still lingered in the halls. Here, too, the echoes of a different Karachi—one filled with ambition and sacrifice—reminded me how often we forget the roots of the place we call home. The final stop, Frere Hall, stood tall as a relic of colonial grace now reclaimed by the people. Inside, Sadequain's murals stretched across the ceilings like prayers trapped in color, and Faiz's poetry seemed to seep through the walls: "Bol, ke lab azaad hain tere, Bol, zubaan ab tak teri hai." (Speak, for your lips are free; Speak, your tongue is still yours.) This location, too, has played its part in cinematic history. Scenes from Armaan were filmed here, the grandeur of Frere Hall adding layers of elegance and nostalgia to the film's narrative. This is where the participants sat down and began pouring out all the artistic inspiration they had gathered along the way. I wandered around with my camera—still a tool I'm inexperienced with—capturing pictures of everyone and their art. I couldn't help but notice how my writer's block, which had persisted throughout the week, almost immediately lifted. This is the magic of the city I was talking about. This city, for all its exhaustion, urges us to speak, to remember, to belong. It's also heartening to see Gen Z tracing their roots, uncovering forgotten stories of Karachi's past—an effort to reconcile history with identity in the age of disconnection. Karachi, to me, is like a relationship that evolves, stretches, and bends—but never truly breaks. It has lived through riots, neglect, and abandonment, yet it continues to shelter, to inspire, to endure. It is in the fresh vegetables at Empress Market on a Saturday morning, the vivid colors of masalas reminding you of your mother's touch, who always knew which spice could elevate a dish but never quite knew when to leave and shut the door behind her. Yes, Karachi is tired. Neglect wears heavy on its shoulders, and the dreams of its people often drown in its relentless traffic and noise. But beneath the smog, there remains a stubborn beauty—an unwavering pulse that refuses to fade. I fear, though: what if, one day, this city, too, grows too tired? What if the exhaustion weighs too heavily, and even Karachi stops trying? Until that day comes, I will keep walking these streets, gathering its stories, and remembering that beneath the dust, this city still breathes poetry in every corner.
