Due-e-Fatima
KARACHI offers a recurring image: the homeless seek shelter in shade and we seek comfort in silence. Yet it isn’t only the blind eye we turn, but rather our quiet indifference that truly catches my attention and makes me question: does altruism cease to exist?
On the streets of Karachi, the phrase “ Every person for themselves” plays out every day. Traffic signs have become a formality rather than a rule. A stalled car is met with frustrated horns instead of an offer of help. Safe driving receives angry glares if it’s slow. And if that weren’t enough, the roads transform into a battlefield where different paths converge, with everyone trying to merge onto the same stretch, even when it can barely hold that many vehicles.
It makes me wonder: what is so important that we discard our patience and deny another person two minutes of kindness? The truth is, nothing. It doesn’t take much to be indifferent and it doesn’t take much to be kind. This road rage is a symptom, not a cause. It’s a reflection of the other agitations this city provokes.
Damaged roads, water shortages, open sewage lines, these are problems every Karachiite can relate to. Adding to that, is the constant noise we’ve grown accustomed to: blaring horns, revving engines, the gentle but relentless hum of machinery. In this buzzing city, silence is a rarity. And though we’ve become desensitised to these conditions, our frustration seeps through the cracks, revealing itself in the way we drive, the way we react and the way we treat each other on the road.
However, the irony of this situation is that we seem to be turning against people going through the same experiences. Instead of bonding over shared hardship and offering empathy, we honk, we fight and we put ourselves, as well as others, at risk for a ten second headstart. Psychologists have long examined this kind of apathy. One explanation lies in the
Frustration–Aggression Hypothesis by which suggests that when people face constant obstacles to their goals, frustration builds and eventually erupts as aggression. In Karachi, where every stop sign feels like a provocation, this theory comes to life every single day.
However , the next time you step out onto that road, I urge you to remember this: if we keep hurting our fellow sailors while trying to take control of the same waters, the boat sinks for all of us. Perhaps the real question was never whether altruism still exists, but whether we allow ourselves the liberty and the space to practise it in our busy lives.
—The writer occasionally contributes to the national press.
