KARACHI
An obituarywhen memory is erased for profit, cities lose their soul.
Published May 8, 2025
Dawn
Dawn
The writer is an architect.
KARACHI is a strange city — divided by public-private partnerships and developed in isolation. Its caretakers no longer incorporate context, history, or citizens’ rights. The city tends to silence you — either through the bullet or by denying your human right to dignified infrastructure. What is a city without a historical context? I write today in a defeated tone. Developers, politicians, investors, and capitalistic methods have triumphed, while activists, urban thinkers, and social welfare bodies have been told to go home.
Three important heritage properties listed under Sindh Cultural Heritage (Preservation) Act, 1994, have been lost in the same way. Each property was purchased recently by investors or builders. All were vacant and declared ‘dangerous’ by the Sindh Building Control Authority (SBCA). This process is hardly straightforward — it is a power-driven strategy. These properties are acquired by influential people, who seek to obtain favourable reports supporting commercial ambitions.
The three heritage buildings we lost this month are: Cowasjee Kharas House, Panachand Building, and most tragically, the Kanji Building. Heritage Walk Karachi has, for five years, monitored this structure from afar, alerting the Sindh Heritage Department of illegal activity at the site. Three months ago, the developer purchased the adjacent building that structurally supported the Kanji Building. The supporting structure was dismantled, rendering the building weak and vulnerable. Despite repeated letters to departments urging them to stabilise the structure with scaffolding, no action was taken. On May 3, the Kanji Building’s stone frame could no longer bear the burden — it collapsed, leaving behind debris infused with cultural memory, architectural craftsmanship, and undocumented archives.
Suit 666 of 2024, recently filed in the Sindh High Court, has dealt a devastating blow to Karachi’s heritage landscape. It has handed absolute power to the SBCA — the very body that is supposed to prevent neglect by owners and users of such properties. Instead, the SBCA does little beyond awarding these buildings the label ‘dangerous property’. KDA regulations regarding heritage sites place greater responsibility on oversight and protection than on hastily issuing such certificates. The authority’s inaction reveals weaknesses in our regulatory frameworks.
In Kanji’s debris lie the remnants of Karachi’s history.
The Sindh minister for culture and heritage, along with the advisory (technical) committee, has attempted to address the menace of wilful demolitions — many of which are apparently facilitated through SBCA channels. Builders and property owners covertly damage their own properties to engineer a ‘dangerous’ status and gain demolition approval. Important government institutions collecting real estate revenues should review the city and its infrastructure from various angles, not just a commercial extractive lens.
Meanwhile, Karachi is being concretised through development schemes. Town municipal corporations exacerbate this trend. Public parks are being transformed into commercialised padel grounds. No policies exist to safeguard neighbourhood rights. Tertiary lanes are clogged with private vehicles and 24-hour rental grounds, causing noise pollution. The city never sleeps — and thus never repairs. Strategies that claim to activate parks often do the opposite: aviaries in spaces like the Frere Hall impose cruelty on animals while squandering funds that could have supported liveable infrastructure. Old town Karachi remains below acceptable living standards. Sociologists and urban planners stress the importance of grassroots collaboration and community partnerships — not profit-driven public-private ventu-res.
Heritage and cultural development in Karachi operate in silos. Select buildings already in good condition undergo token ‘restoration’ and are handed back to the public as showpieces — gestures meant to distract from the larger decay. Access to cultural heritage is not charity; it is a right. Sadly, powerful actors make decisions in isolation. These are portfolio-driven strategies — not urban planning. As researchers, we monitor the government’s social media and public narratives. What emerges is a picture of not social welfare but a fractured, self-serving methodology.
The Kanji Building bore witness to decades of state neglect, the abuse of power, the erosion of collective hopes, and the imposition of silence. Its collapse was not by time but by design.
In its debris lie the remnants of Karachi’s identity — its craftsmanship, aesthetic values, partition-era history, and unfulfilled desires. Let its absence speak out. Let the ruins testify to what history could not save, because power chose not to. Let the Kanji Building’s fall be a warning: when memory is erased for profit, cities lose their soul.
X: @marvimazhar
Published in Dawn, May 8th, 2025
KARACHI is a strange city — divided by public-private partnerships and developed in isolation. Its caretakers no longer incorporate context, history, or citizens’ rights. The city tends to silence you — either through the bullet or by denying your human right to dignified infrastructure. What is a city without a historical context? I write today in a defeated tone. Developers, politicians, investors, and capitalistic methods have triumphed, while activists, urban thinkers, and social welfare bodies have been told to go home.
Three important heritage properties listed under Sindh Cultural Heritage (Preservation) Act, 1994, have been lost in the same way. Each property was purchased recently by investors or builders. All were vacant and declared ‘dangerous’ by the Sindh Building Control Authority (SBCA). This process is hardly straightforward — it is a power-driven strategy. These properties are acquired by influential people, who seek to obtain favourable reports supporting commercial ambitions.
The three heritage buildings we lost this month are: Cowasjee Kharas House, Panachand Building, and most tragically, the Kanji Building. Heritage Walk Karachi has, for five years, monitored this structure from afar, alerting the Sindh Heritage Department of illegal activity at the site. Three months ago, the developer purchased the adjacent building that structurally supported the Kanji Building. The supporting structure was dismantled, rendering the building weak and vulnerable. Despite repeated letters to departments urging them to stabilise the structure with scaffolding, no action was taken. On May 3, the Kanji Building’s stone frame could no longer bear the burden — it collapsed, leaving behind debris infused with cultural memory, architectural craftsmanship, and undocumented archives.
Suit 666 of 2024, recently filed in the Sindh High Court, has dealt a devastating blow to Karachi’s heritage landscape. It has handed absolute power to the SBCA — the very body that is supposed to prevent neglect by owners and users of such properties. Instead, the SBCA does little beyond awarding these buildings the label ‘dangerous property’. KDA regulations regarding heritage sites place greater responsibility on oversight and protection than on hastily issuing such certificates. The authority’s inaction reveals weaknesses in our regulatory frameworks.
In Kanji’s debris lie the remnants of Karachi’s history.
The Sindh minister for culture and heritage, along with the advisory (technical) committee, has attempted to address the menace of wilful demolitions — many of which are apparently facilitated through SBCA channels. Builders and property owners covertly damage their own properties to engineer a ‘dangerous’ status and gain demolition approval. Important government institutions collecting real estate revenues should review the city and its infrastructure from various angles, not just a commercial extractive lens.
Meanwhile, Karachi is being concretised through development schemes. Town municipal corporations exacerbate this trend. Public parks are being transformed into commercialised padel grounds. No policies exist to safeguard neighbourhood rights. Tertiary lanes are clogged with private vehicles and 24-hour rental grounds, causing noise pollution. The city never sleeps — and thus never repairs. Strategies that claim to activate parks often do the opposite: aviaries in spaces like the Frere Hall impose cruelty on animals while squandering funds that could have supported liveable infrastructure. Old town Karachi remains below acceptable living standards. Sociologists and urban planners stress the importance of grassroots collaboration and community partnerships — not profit-driven public-private ventu-res.
Heritage and cultural development in Karachi operate in silos. Select buildings already in good condition undergo token ‘restoration’ and are handed back to the public as showpieces — gestures meant to distract from the larger decay. Access to cultural heritage is not charity; it is a right. Sadly, powerful actors make decisions in isolation. These are portfolio-driven strategies — not urban planning. As researchers, we monitor the government’s social media and public narratives. What emerges is a picture of not social welfare but a fractured, self-serving methodology.
The Kanji Building bore witness to decades of state neglect, the abuse of power, the erosion of collective hopes, and the imposition of silence. Its collapse was not by time but by design.
In its debris lie the remnants of Karachi’s identity — its craftsmanship, aesthetic values, partition-era history, and unfulfilled desires. Let its absence speak out. Let the ruins testify to what history could not save, because power chose not to. Let the Kanji Building’s fall be a warning: when memory is erased for profit, cities lose their soul.
X: @marvimazhar
Published in Dawn, May 8th, 2025
