Bilal M.
Google
For me, Clifton Beach will always be synonymous with what Karachi is; beautiful yet neglected and allowed to be polluted, but yet beautiful in its own right. It’s not a postcard-perfect beach, and I’d never call it “clean” or “serene.” But its messy, pulsating heart is what makes it real.
I'm fortunate enough to live close by the beach so driving by sea view road is almost a daily routine. We sometimes go just before sunset, not to swim in water I know is polluted, but to walk barefoot on the cool, damp sand as the city’s heat fades. I watch the kaleidoscope of life: earnest cricket matches, giggling groups taking selfies, and grandfathers staring thoughtfully at the sea.
The place holds a complicated affection in my heart. The litter frustrates me, and I wistfully imagine what a cared-for version could be. Yet, that very imperfection feels honest. Clifton doesn’t try to be anything other than what it is—a massive, public living room for a city of over 20 million, offering its salt-tinged breeze and vast horizon to everyone for free. It’s where Karachi comes to exhale. And standing there, feeling that collective release as the sun disappears, I feel completely at home.
For Karachi it's an iconic place, but like the rest of the city, could really do with people in power showing more love and attention to it