By Kashif Hasan<\/p>\n
Karachi\u2019s history does not reside merely in its buildings, its roads, or the long curve of its shoreline. It lives in the memories of those who saw the city up close, who breathed with its rhythm and understood its pulse. Dinshaw Avari is one such witness \u2014 a custodian of eras, a keeper of generations, and a representative of a community that played a quiet yet luminous role in Pakistan\u2019s urban civilisation. His interview with journalist Fahmida Riaz on YouTube transported me to a Karachi where dance floors glimmered, cabarets unfolded by the sea, foreign performers descended on the city, and Beach Luxury\u2019s banquet hall glowed like a cluster of fireflies on New Year\u2019s Eve.<\/p>\n
Dinshaw Avari recalls that he himself was still in school during the 1970s, yet the changing winds and the vibrancy of the city were etched into his young eyes. We were never allowed to go to dance clubs, he says, but Karachi was a different place then \u2014 peaceful, civil, and connected to the world. If one were to put it simply: today\u2019s Dubai was, in many ways, yesterday\u2019s Karachi.<\/p>\n
Among his recollections is a curious little tale. A troupe of foreign magicians used to perform at Beach Luxury. One evening, one of them, intoxicated by the thrill of his own craft, climbed up the diving board by the swimming pool to attempt a dramatic leap. His jump misfired; he struck the board and broke both his legs. Dinshaw\u2019s father, furious at the sudden disruption, declared, \u201cWhatever happens, he must perform tonight!\u201d But Dinshaw\u2019s grandfather intervened: \u201cBehram, be sensible \u2014 the man cannot even stand.\u201d Such was Karachi \u2014 every day adding a new incident to its colourful social canvas.<\/p>\n
On the question of bars and dance floors shutting down, Dinshaw is blunt: \u201cA hotel runs on rooms, banquets, and food. Alcohol and dance were secondary. Their closure hardly affected business.\u201d<\/p>\n
But the real saga is that of Beach Luxury itself \u2014 a four-star hotel founded in 1947, still standing today while buildings like Metropole have slipped into history. Dinshaw narrates that business collapsed after 1979; out of 175 rooms, almost a hundred had to be shut. When he joined the business in 1990, he converted the closed rooms into offices. Later, when fortunes improved, they were opened again. \u201cA hotel must survive on its own strength,\u201d he says. \u201cNames do not sustain it \u2014 standards do.\u201d<\/p>\n
When talk turns to Karachi\u2019s Parsi and Jewish communities, his voice carries both sadness and clear-eyed realism. \u201cKarachi was once a city with a secular soul. People of every faith lived side by side. Today very few even know who the Parsis are. The Jews are gone, but Muslims still tend their graveyard with respect.\u201d<\/p>\n
The decline of the Parsi Colony, he explains, has simple causes: education, fewer children, and economic migration. \u201cOver the last twenty years, many houses emptied out. The elders remained; the young moved to America and Canada.\u201d Yet he proudly insists that Parsis never faced discrimination in Pakistan \u2014 only dignity and regard.<\/p>\n
His father and grandfather\u2019s greatest contribution, he says, was providing housing. Newly married couples received affordable accommodation so that families could grow and roots could strengthen. Education, healthcare, and welfare programmes existed for every Parsi \u2014 \u201cfrom birth to death\u201d \u2014 a complete model of communal care.<\/p>\n
On interfaith marriage, Dinshaw is unequivocal: \u201cWe convert no one. Being a Parsi is a matter of birth. Anyone who marries outside effectively steps away from the community.\u201d<\/p>\n
When politics enters the conversation, yet another chapter unfolds. His father was a member of General Zia\u2019s Majlis-e-Shoora and later represented minorities. He restored a Sikh gurdwara, arranged water for the Bah\u00e1\u2019\u00eds in Thatta, and travelled to the Kalash valleys. \u201cHe used to say: work with the government; opposition achieves little.\u201d But threats and risks eventually drove him away from politics.<\/p>\n
Dinshaw himself dismisses any thought of political involvement. \u201cIt is not safe for minorities. I am content being the chairman of my own community.\u201d<\/p>\n
On the traditional Parsi method of exposure burial, the dakhma, he speaks with scholarly assurance. Karachi\u2019s strong sunlight keeps the practice functional even today, though vultures have vanished. \u201cIf ever this becomes unfeasible, I would prefer burial \u2014 but I cannot bring myself to pollute fire.\u201d<\/p>\n
Avari family youth, he tells me, still return to Pakistan. \u201cWe are fortunate that our children come back. We remain a joint family. This is all due to Pakistan, and the hard work of those who came before us.\u201d<\/p>\n
Women, he notes, play a profound role in social service \u2014 supporting disabled children, assisting those battling addiction, working in special education, and aiding flood victims. \u201cThey take on every task that needs no applause \u2014 only heart.\u201d<\/p>\n
In the end, Dinshaw Avari says something that feels like a moral distilled from decades: \u201cTrue charity is that which requires no publicity. Karachi is a vast city; most of our work is here \u2014 quiet, but constant.\u201d<\/p>\n
This conversation is a portrait of a time \u2014 a Karachi whose heartbeat was steady, whose lights were brighter, and whose social fabric was woven with tolerance. People like Dinshaw Avari remind us that cities are not built merely of bricks and roads \u2014 they arise from memory, values, and collective temperament. And when such people speak, it is as though the city itself joins the conversation.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
By Kashif Hasan Karachi\u2019s history does not reside merely in its buildings, its roads, or the long curve of its shoreline. It lives in the memories of those who saw the city up close, who breathed with its rhythm and understood its pulse. Dinshaw Avari is one such witness \u2014 a custodian of eras, a […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[10],"tags":[13716],"class_list":{"0":"post-514872","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","6":"category-article","7":"tag-kashif-hasan"},"yoast_head":"\n