A missed misadventure

Zafar (name changed) is a long-time friend in Karachi and an amazing host. He is back from a business trip to Mumbai and full of beans about the mega prospects of exporting marble, mainly in scrap form – to India.

“I saw a marble factory in India, the likes of which doesn't exist anywhere in the world,” he gushes. He is a great Indophile and has exported produces to India ranging from sugar to cement, and now marble.

“My Indian customer was buying scrap marble from China at $85 a tonne; I offered better quality marble at $53 a tonne.” The Indian naturally wanted to inspect samples, the supply that was available, etc. But to get him to come to Pakistan was more than Zafar had bargained for.

“I convinced him to come to Karachi. But the previous day, he called to say his wife had begged him not to go. I begged and cajoled him, said I would pay for his trip and guaranteed his safety. I told him I'll come up to the aircraft to receive you… please come.”

The visit took place, the Indian partner was very happy with what he saw… “he handed over whatever foreign exchange he had brought with him to me as advance, and today he refuses to buy from anybody else, even at a lower price,” beams Zafar

His only problem is that the demand from India is so great that he is not able to keep pace. “You Indians have amazing technology. He converts the scrap into powder and then into all-new marble, the quality of which is stupendous.”

He tells me this story as we drive in his Honda City which is making all kinds of scary sounds as it has met with an accident the previous evening and needs to go to the workshop the next morning.

We are headed to pick up a journalist friend of his at Karachi's upmarket Defence area and he gives me all kinds of fancy options for dinner.

Just as we leave behind congested traffic and drive onto a near-empty road in the dark, where any approaching two-wheeler looks as though it is heading right into you…two days in Karachi and one has heard endless stories of cars being stopped at gunpoint and mobiles and other belongings being looted – I make the mistake of asking him about the crime scene in Karachi.

“Oh, its terrible… I've had two hold-ups and lost two Rolex watches, an iPhone, etc. I never carry more than Rs 4,000 and I never leave home without saying a short prayer from the Quran”, is his unnerving reply.

I have neither a Rolex nor an iPhone to lose. But my CK watch for which I've paid a good 14K, my BlackBerry Bold, even though a year old, and a Panasonic compact camera bought from Japan just the earlier week for $450, not to include the gold bangle I kick myself for not removing, are enough of a fortune to part with to a random thug.

As we hunt around for the journalist's “sea-facing” apartment on the deserted streets of the Defence Housing Area, we are obviously and blatantly lost, and sitting ducks, I think, for scores of mobile-snatchers who must be in the vicinity. Naturally my wrath turns on the journalist. “How can he make a 75-year-old man drive such a long distance in the dark to an unfamiliar address? Aren't there taxis in Karachi,” I fume.

Anyway, after 10 minutes of wrong turns we spot the place. In petty revenge, I refuse to go up saying I have to get back before 11 p.m.

He comes down after a good 10 minutes… “ mei jootey toh pehen loo (let me wear my shoes)”, … and they say women take ages to get ready. I wait impatiently hoping my host's prayer before leaving his house would be effective.

It is time for the woman to dictate; … no fancy restaurant which requires a long drive. We dive into the nearest Chinese restaurant, ignoring the journalist's amused comments about how Shoba De and Vikram Seth found Karachi the safest of cities during the recent Karachi Literary Festival. We drop him, but the return trip gives a few more scares. Most of the roads are barricaded – for VIP movement, grumbles my host. We take detours across more deserted and unknown roads, but give the slip to would-be snatchers/looters.

The next day when I repeat this story to some industrialists I interview they shake their heads, frown, smile, but say nothing!

(To be continued)  

COMMENT NOW