By Amir Zia
March 24, 2014
The News
Almost every second or third citizen of this restive city of roughly 18 million people has a first-hand personal story or that of his friend or relative to share regarding street crime
The first time I faced a gun menacingly pointing at me it was held by a boy barely in his late teens. The inexperienced hand that clutched the pistol was shaking. My foremost fear was that his raw hand could pull the trigger by mistake, out of nervousness or in a sudden rush of blood.
His two young accomplices demanded whatever cash and valuables my family had as we stood outside our house located in an apparently peaceful neighbourhood of Karachi that night. The gang’s fourth member waited in a car with its engine running. We had to cooperate. Surprisingly, one of the muggers politely apologized for this conduct before driving away. This happened in 2006.
The second time I got unlucky was in the vicinity of the DHA offices sometime in 2011. Two youngsters, riding a motorbike, pulled in front of me in broad daylight as I unlocked my car in a quiet street. They were smooth operators. One ordered me to sit inside the car waiving his pistol, while the other gave him cover without dismounting from the bike. “Do you carry a gun?” I was asked by the one standing beside me as he searched the vehicle – underneath the seats and inside the dashboard.
My answer: a man with a face like me possibly can’t. The youngster had some sense of humour. He smiled and demanded for the mobile phone and wallet. I gave him the phone and offered cash instead of the wallet to save my national identity card, driving licence etc. He agreed. Then foolishly, I asked for my SIM card. The mugger returned the phone. But in those tense moments, I requested him to do this favour. He obliged and gave the SIM back. It was during this give-and-take that the biker noticed my wristwatch…They snatched the car-key to prevent a chase, but returned it when in a broken sentence or two I explained the hardship I would face without it. “Please don’t get upset”, were the parting words of one of them. “We have no choice.”
The third time my luck ran out was in November 2013 outside the office at I I Chundrigar Road – Pakistan’s so-called Wall Street. I had just gotten into my colleague’s car that I noticed a lean teenager’s head popping inside the vehicle, demanding cash and our mobile phones. His partner in crime – a bearded fellow – was on a bike armed with a gleaming pistol. We offered no resistance, but I couldn’t help saying that “you are looting poor people.” In return, we heard in Karachi’s chaste Urdu some explicit four-letter words. The unkind duo fled along with my colleague’s car keys.
This first person account offers a slight glimpse of what a vast number of Karachiites daily endure in the city – often with graver consequences. Some get beaten, others sustain bullet injuries and the unfortunate ones lose their lives along with cash and other valuables. Mugging is now way too common in our city. No area is safe enough. No major road or street – even in the heart of Karachi – is out of bounds for criminals. A mere walk on the road exposes you to these small-time daredevils floating around 24/7.
In a city plagued by killings, terrorism, bank robberies, kidnappings for ransom, extortion, vehicle theft and snatching and other such big crimes, mugging is now not even considered news worthy. Police seldom register the First Investigation Report (FIR) of such incidents. At the most a complaint is lodged in the police roaznamchas (daily reporting registers).
The much-propagated Karachi operation against criminals and terrorists, which started on September 5, has failed to make a difference when it comes to beating street crime, though killings and extortion cases have registered a drop.
The Citizens-Police Liaison Committee figures reveal that from September-February – the first six months of the operation – a total of 12,542 mobile phones were snatched compared with 10,050 in the same number of months (March-August) before the start of the crackdown.
These numbers, however, don’t reflect the true picture since many street crime incidents are never reported. Many victims do not bother going to the police or reporting mobile phone snatching to the CPLC that offers services of blocking phone sets. Most victims just thank their stars for having survived one more day in this urban jungle where crime and lawlessness remain the order of the day.
Almost every second or third citizen of this restive city of roughly 18 million people has a first-hand personal story or that of his friend or relative to share regarding street crime. The victims belong to all age-groups and classes – from the low income to the affluent.
A few days ago, a fellow journalist got beaten up by two gunmen for not carrying enough cash and for having a cheap mobile phone. The muggers thought that they would find a laptop in his bag, which only had some papers. People just watched as the journalist was slapped, punched and threatened with a pistol pointing at his head. The incident occurred when the victim was walking on the busy M A Jinnah Road on a Sunday evening.
One hears countless such tales…in many drawing-room discussions one finds victims narrating their similar ordeals like school boys who like to boast about their adventures and trysts with trouble often with pride and awe. You hear from a leading businessman about how he saved his valuable wristwatch which he got from his grandfather at the peril of his life. A corporate leader describes how he pays monthly protection money to a gang to reach his office located in an industrial area of the city. A high-flying professional tells you how he lost his mobile telephone while driving on a key road.
Those from low-income backgrounds are deprived of their cash, mobile phones and other valuables when their passenger buses are stopped by armed men in the city’s outskirts, during a motor rickshaw ride in the middle of the city or while walking on a footpath.
Last week, my friend’s brother had a narrow brush with death at Korangi when his vehicle was stopped late night by armed men. The victims were handing them their valuables when one of the gunmen, who was drunk, tried to fire a shot aiming directly at the head of one of the victims despite warnings by his accomplices. He pulled the trigger twice, but luckily the shot was not fired.
The mugger tried again, but the victim pushed away his hand. There was a bang and the bullet wiz passed, grazing his face and wounding the wrist of my friend’s brother, who was sitting beside him. The gunman’s accomplices and the victims all ran for cover. There are countless such horror stories unfolding everyday in Karachi.
According to Ahmed Chinoy, the CPLC chief, most muggers are not part of organised gangs. “But mugging is their first step in the organised world of crime.”
These criminals are mostly dwellers of slums, located in the heart of every middle- and upper-class neighbourhood. In the words of Chinoy, these slum areas are like rural pockets in the city where poverty and unemployment force many youngsters to take this path.
But it is not just the poor who resort to crime. Many youngsters belonging to the middle and even upper middle class join the dark side for adventure and extra cash.
The weak writ of the state and dysfunctional law enforcement and judicial institutions, coupled with the unholy nexus between crime and politics, make the situation more complex and beating crime more difficult.
With the Karachi operation running out of steam since November according to D G Sindh Rangers Major General Rizwan Akhter, Karachiites seem to have little hope for security and peace on the streets of their beleaguered city. The grand illusion that a crackdown on hardened criminals would help reduce street crime has been busted. Surely, there is no glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel. It is only the reign of fear, terror and criminals in the dangerous city called Karachi.
March 24, 2014
The News
Almost every second or third citizen of this restive city of roughly 18 million people has a first-hand personal story or that of his friend or relative to share regarding street crime
The first time I faced a gun menacingly pointing at me it was held by a boy barely in his late teens. The inexperienced hand that clutched the pistol was shaking. My foremost fear was that his raw hand could pull the trigger by mistake, out of nervousness or in a sudden rush of blood.
His two young accomplices demanded whatever cash and valuables my family had as we stood outside our house located in an apparently peaceful neighbourhood of Karachi that night. The gang’s fourth member waited in a car with its engine running. We had to cooperate. Surprisingly, one of the muggers politely apologized for this conduct before driving away. This happened in 2006.
The second time I got unlucky was in the vicinity of the DHA offices sometime in 2011. Two youngsters, riding a motorbike, pulled in front of me in broad daylight as I unlocked my car in a quiet street. They were smooth operators. One ordered me to sit inside the car waiving his pistol, while the other gave him cover without dismounting from the bike. “Do you carry a gun?” I was asked by the one standing beside me as he searched the vehicle – underneath the seats and inside the dashboard.
My answer: a man with a face like me possibly can’t. The youngster had some sense of humour. He smiled and demanded for the mobile phone and wallet. I gave him the phone and offered cash instead of the wallet to save my national identity card, driving licence etc. He agreed. Then foolishly, I asked for my SIM card. The mugger returned the phone. But in those tense moments, I requested him to do this favour. He obliged and gave the SIM back. It was during this give-and-take that the biker noticed my wristwatch…They snatched the car-key to prevent a chase, but returned it when in a broken sentence or two I explained the hardship I would face without it. “Please don’t get upset”, were the parting words of one of them. “We have no choice.”
The third time my luck ran out was in November 2013 outside the office at I I Chundrigar Road – Pakistan’s so-called Wall Street. I had just gotten into my colleague’s car that I noticed a lean teenager’s head popping inside the vehicle, demanding cash and our mobile phones. His partner in crime – a bearded fellow – was on a bike armed with a gleaming pistol. We offered no resistance, but I couldn’t help saying that “you are looting poor people.” In return, we heard in Karachi’s chaste Urdu some explicit four-letter words. The unkind duo fled along with my colleague’s car keys.
This first person account offers a slight glimpse of what a vast number of Karachiites daily endure in the city – often with graver consequences. Some get beaten, others sustain bullet injuries and the unfortunate ones lose their lives along with cash and other valuables. Mugging is now way too common in our city. No area is safe enough. No major road or street – even in the heart of Karachi – is out of bounds for criminals. A mere walk on the road exposes you to these small-time daredevils floating around 24/7.
In a city plagued by killings, terrorism, bank robberies, kidnappings for ransom, extortion, vehicle theft and snatching and other such big crimes, mugging is now not even considered news worthy. Police seldom register the First Investigation Report (FIR) of such incidents. At the most a complaint is lodged in the police roaznamchas (daily reporting registers).
The much-propagated Karachi operation against criminals and terrorists, which started on September 5, has failed to make a difference when it comes to beating street crime, though killings and extortion cases have registered a drop.
The Citizens-Police Liaison Committee figures reveal that from September-February – the first six months of the operation – a total of 12,542 mobile phones were snatched compared with 10,050 in the same number of months (March-August) before the start of the crackdown.
These numbers, however, don’t reflect the true picture since many street crime incidents are never reported. Many victims do not bother going to the police or reporting mobile phone snatching to the CPLC that offers services of blocking phone sets. Most victims just thank their stars for having survived one more day in this urban jungle where crime and lawlessness remain the order of the day.
Almost every second or third citizen of this restive city of roughly 18 million people has a first-hand personal story or that of his friend or relative to share regarding street crime. The victims belong to all age-groups and classes – from the low income to the affluent.
A few days ago, a fellow journalist got beaten up by two gunmen for not carrying enough cash and for having a cheap mobile phone. The muggers thought that they would find a laptop in his bag, which only had some papers. People just watched as the journalist was slapped, punched and threatened with a pistol pointing at his head. The incident occurred when the victim was walking on the busy M A Jinnah Road on a Sunday evening.
One hears countless such tales…in many drawing-room discussions one finds victims narrating their similar ordeals like school boys who like to boast about their adventures and trysts with trouble often with pride and awe. You hear from a leading businessman about how he saved his valuable wristwatch which he got from his grandfather at the peril of his life. A corporate leader describes how he pays monthly protection money to a gang to reach his office located in an industrial area of the city. A high-flying professional tells you how he lost his mobile telephone while driving on a key road.
Those from low-income backgrounds are deprived of their cash, mobile phones and other valuables when their passenger buses are stopped by armed men in the city’s outskirts, during a motor rickshaw ride in the middle of the city or while walking on a footpath.
Last week, my friend’s brother had a narrow brush with death at Korangi when his vehicle was stopped late night by armed men. The victims were handing them their valuables when one of the gunmen, who was drunk, tried to fire a shot aiming directly at the head of one of the victims despite warnings by his accomplices. He pulled the trigger twice, but luckily the shot was not fired.
The mugger tried again, but the victim pushed away his hand. There was a bang and the bullet wiz passed, grazing his face and wounding the wrist of my friend’s brother, who was sitting beside him. The gunman’s accomplices and the victims all ran for cover. There are countless such horror stories unfolding everyday in Karachi.
According to Ahmed Chinoy, the CPLC chief, most muggers are not part of organised gangs. “But mugging is their first step in the organised world of crime.”
These criminals are mostly dwellers of slums, located in the heart of every middle- and upper-class neighbourhood. In the words of Chinoy, these slum areas are like rural pockets in the city where poverty and unemployment force many youngsters to take this path.
But it is not just the poor who resort to crime. Many youngsters belonging to the middle and even upper middle class join the dark side for adventure and extra cash.
The weak writ of the state and dysfunctional law enforcement and judicial institutions, coupled with the unholy nexus between crime and politics, make the situation more complex and beating crime more difficult.
With the Karachi operation running out of steam since November according to D G Sindh Rangers Major General Rizwan Akhter, Karachiites seem to have little hope for security and peace on the streets of their beleaguered city. The grand illusion that a crackdown on hardened criminals would help reduce street crime has been busted. Surely, there is no glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel. It is only the reign of fear, terror and criminals in the dangerous city called Karachi.
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