By Menin Rodrigues

How a pair of wheels shaped our lives in good old Karachi.

HOMESTEAD: November 21, 2023 – In the days of our youthful exuberance, cycling was a passport to adventure, a vehicle of freedom that whisked us away from the mundane into a world of endless exploration. The wind in our hair, the rhythmic spin of the pedals, and the open road before us created a symphony of excitement. It may not have been a mode of transport for us like it did for many others, but it was a gateway to joy.

I am sure many of us have our own stories to tell and how cycling was a part of our lives, however, this recollection is about how cycling, as a means of livelihood, was a routine spectacle in the Karachi of yore – in this case, specifically the 1960s and 1970s. Here is a memory recall of who among the city’s visibly distinctive vendors used bicycles for their daily chores and economic sustenance.  

As the very first rays of dawn crept over the horizon, there was a familiar sight that became the harbinger of a delicious morning ritual in Karachi. It was the ‘Roti-Walla,’ who embarked on his daily journey, pedaling his way to your doorstep. His cargo consisted of woven baskets, laden with the enticing aroma of piping-hot ‘karak’ double roti. The ‘karak’ in the name had always held a particular fascination for me, akin to a captivating riddle that begged for an answer. What exactly made this roti ‘double’? Was it the layers of its soft, flaky texture, or was it the way it seemed to magically double the pleasure of breakfast? These early morning musings were an intrinsic part of this delightful ritual, where the ‘Roti-Walla’ not only delivered nourishment but also added a pinch of mystery to the dawn of each day, making each bite a moment of delectable intrigue and warmth.

After the ‘Roti-Walla’ had made his aromatic delivery, the ‘Doodh-Walla’ would gracefully roll into the neighborhood, announcing his arrival with the gentle clinking of milk cans. His trusty bicycle bore the weight of canisters filled to the brim with fresh, creamy milk, which exuded an irresistible fragrance of goodness. This daily spectacle was a cornerstone of life in Karachi, a reminder of how life was so simple then.

What truly distinguished the ‘Doodh-Walla’s’ role was the remarkable precision with which he executed his task. With dexterity honed by years of experience, he would deftly transfer the milk from his larger containers into smaller ones. These smaller vessels were perfectly calibrated to cater to individual homes or, in some cases, to traverse the labyrinthine lanes of multi-story buildings, where the milk was delivered from one apartment to another, and sometimes, from one floor to the next. The ‘Doodh-Walla’ was the quintessential milk conductor, ensuring that every household, regardless of its location or size, received its share of the freshly drawn dairy goodness.

Between 9:00 and 10:00 am, the ‘Machli-Walla’ would make his appearance, a cornucopia of fresh seawater fish straight from the Arabian Sea. Their sales pitch would echo through the neighborhood compounds as womenfolk eagerly clustered around their bicycles, peering into baskets packed with an array of fish, carefully preserved amidst mounds of ice. These peddling fish vendors of Karachi were a well-coordinated cohort, numbering about 500 in my estimate. They embarked on their daily odyssey to the harbor as early as 3 a.m., haggling for their day’s requirements. Returning to the city in groups of 20 or 30, they would fan out to their respective ‘mohollas’ or neighborhoods. Each ‘machliwalla’ had his allotted catchment area for business, and no other ‘walla’ would dare to infringe upon it.

The ‘Khana-Walla‘ (or the ‘Dabba-Walla’) followed closely between 10.00 and 11.00 a.m., an intriguing sight as several of them pedaled along, each of their cycles loaded with no fewer than 20 to 30 tiffin boxes (3 or 4-tiered), neatly stacked on both sides of their contraptions. Families entrusted their most cherished and ‘reliable’ service for the task of delivering home-cooked meals to their loved ones toiling in offices. Once again, these ‘khana-wallas’ numbered in the hundreds. They would gather the tiffin boxes from various neighborhoods and congregate at a designated roadside corner to sort them based on their ultimate destination. The tiffin boxes would then be exchanged with meticulous precision, ensuring not a single mistake was made in the process. These swapped tiffin boxes would be expertly delivered to their rightful recipients, only to return to the ‘exchange’ spot for reloading onto the original ‘khana-wala’ bicycle, ready for their next leg of the journey – back to where they had originally picked up their sets.

Following in this parade of service providers was the ‘Dhobi,’ pedaling his way to your door. His faithful bicycle often bore two towering stacks of bundled clothing: one stack consisted of freshly hand-laundered and crisply ironed garments, tied to the back carrier, while the other contained the ‘to be washed’ items, held tightly together on the handle. The dhobis, much like their fellow ‘wallas,’ were a highly organized and disciplined group of individuals. Dealing with a myriad of garments, bedsheets, towels, shirts, trousers, and more, they demonstrated an uncanny ability to never mix up their orders or deliveries. Garments that were returned after a thorough cleansing sported an immaculate finish, each crease and fold diligently pressed, with an abundance of starch to ensure they appeared as sharp as new.

In the tapestry of memories that weaves together the simple yet rich life in Karachi, the bicycle-wielding service providers stand as silent but cherished threads. Their daily arrival was a steadfast part of our existence, and their services were far more than mere transactions. These individuals became integral to our families, representing reliability and trust, etching their names in our hearts with the dependable turn of their bicycle wheels. Their generations still render some of these services.

In a world far removed from the hurried pace of today, where technology reigns supreme, the ‘wallas’ who brought their services (bread, milk, fish, food, and laundry) to our doorsteps on humble bicycles were the bearers of tradition, connection, and an era marked by personal service, community bonding, and the unforgettable charm of a bygone Karachi. © Menin Rodrigues