It’s a beautiful winter morning and we are stuck in traffic. We are on our way to Keamari and the traffic is at an absolute standstill on the bridge that leads into the area. When we ask what the trouble is we are told that this is customary when the ships are docked in the Keamari port as rows of trucks ply this route.
It’s hard to believe that this area was once a wind-swept and remote suburb of Karachi, with a clear vista of the water from the broad road that leads to the port.
We eventually make it to our destination; the magnificent Mules Mansion… or what’s left of it. It’s easy to miss this stunning example of Anglo Vernacular architecture in the chaos of the street with overhanging wires, traffic congestion and smog. The stone masonry building wears a grey and tattered cloak of neglect through which Ionic columns, ornate window arches, and pretty balconies still beckon; reminders of past glories and gracious living.
One can only imagine Mules Mansion in its former glory; surrounded by broad, empty roads and with a picturesque view stretching out to the waters of the port beyond .
History
Mules Mansion was commissioned by a a Parsi businessman, Fakirjee Cowasjee, which explains fire urn motifs on the top corners of the building. The aim was to develop the area and encourage port activity. The mansion is yet another gem in the legacy of Iraqi-Jewish architect Moses Somake, who has many of Karachi’s most beautiful buildings to his credit. The building was named after Sir Charles Horace Mules, the first chairman of the Karachi Port Trust.
Over the years, Mules Mansion has served both maritime and residential needs. An observatory at one end was used to keep an eye on ships out at sea. It was also a hospital at some point.
After partition the mansion served as naval headquarters. Later the sailor’s rooms and bar were converted into residential flats and allotted to families who moved here post partition. Many prominent jounalists and academics, including the editor of Dawn Newspaper and the Vice Chancellor of Karachi University, lived here.
The Mansion Today
Today no such luminaries remain in Mules Mansion. The derelict apartments are occupied by those who were once the domestic help of the building residents. We were met by Veera, who has gown up at Mules Mansion, from his birth till the present day. He and his family originally lived in a two storied block of apartments built for the workers and domestic staff employed at Mules Mansion. Today Veera occupies an apartment inside the Mansion itself.
Veera took us into the back yard where the helpers’ quarters still stand as well as some large storage rooms and offices belonging to shipping companies. The ground floor of the mansion itself also houses godowns. Veera and his family were traditionally domestic workers but also employed with making ropes used to bind and hoist cargo at the port. In fact, Veera and one of his son’s is still employed in this laborious task; the once charming balconies of his portion are crammed with nylon ropes and raw materials, festooned with bird droppings.
Now just a relic of grander times, the legacy of Mules Mansion stretches beyond its colonial history. The families who resided here after partition share fond memories of a peaceful life, enriched by their neighbours and a mix of cultural and social values.
Life at Mules Mansion
Riaz Ahmed was born in 1965, came home as a baby to Mules Mansion and lived there till 1984, enjoying a unique childhood which cut across class, cultural and religious divides. “Our address was 10 Mules Mansion, “ he recalls fondly. “I went to school nearby and all my childhood passed here.“ Mules Mansion was a large and well maintained home for Riaz and his 6 siblings to grow up in. We played with the neighbours as well as Veera and his siblings and the entire neighbourhood was our playground.”
The residents of Mules Mansion were mostly from the professional class. Many, like Riaz’s father Shamim Ahmed, were journalists who had moved to Pakistan. Later some customs officials moved in. “Everybody was extremely respectable and they all looked out for each other’s children. It was really a small village,” recalls Riaz. “Eid and other occasions were always celebrated together.” People hailed from different backgrounds; Katchi Memon to UP, Bihar and Madras to Pathan. Many of the residents were from the Parsi community and till 1970, Riaz remembers Jewish neighbours as well.
“I remember playing cricket in the long passageways and we loved to spot the ships out at seea from our balconies. On New Years day, all the ships would blare their horns and it was quite an atmosphere.”
Riaz’s father, Shamim Ahmed, was known for his outspoken views and blunt editorials as a journalist. In fact, he was dismissed from his job during the Ayub Khan era. He went on to found the Sun Newspaper, which was known for its radical stance. The Zia era was a very stressful time for the family. “We used to take the school bus to the nearby school. I remember waiting at the bus stop on cold winter mornings and being told to be careful, to watch ourselves,” remembers Riaz who went on to do an MSC in Applied Chemistry. He then earned his Phd from Cambridge University in England and retired recently from Karachi University 
But generally, it was a carefree existence. A few metres down from Mules Mansion stands the Jackson Police Station and next to it an old church, which according to Riaz, always seemed to be closed; these two buildings still remain till today.
The Neighbourhood
A little further ahead was the railway line and then the ‘ hajjam ki dukaan’ or barber’s shop. “The barber was mute and I think he had spent his entire life at that shop,” says Riaz. “After the shop was ‘Ghaib Shah ka mazaar’ which was full of mysterious charm for us. I most vivdly recall when the ‘urs’ was held. The mazaar was thronged with people, qawwalis and dhammal in progress and we would watch in fascination as someone inevitably went into a ‘haal’ or trance.”
The Jackson Bazaar was on the same road. Riaz was often sent to the local store to fetch sundry items. “There were the small shops and then a higher end grocery store which was known as ‘Memon ki Dukaan‘,” he recalls.
Beyond the local Post Office was an army embarkation headquarters where army personnel lived. “There was a squash court here which we often played in. But generally we played wherever we could. We discovered an empty cemented ground built by the KPT which was great for playing hockey and a step up from the dusty fields we usually played in. There were no differences of class; one just needed a hockey stick or bat in hand to be included.”
The Customs Club was, however, a little more elite and Riaz and his brothers would go there to play tennis. There was a tambola booth at the corner. “I remember an odd detail that some tambola enthusiasts would visit a lady called Mariam Maasi. She was a simple minded woman but people thought she was a ‘wali’ or close to God. They would ask her the winning number and she would hold up her fingers to indicate it,” smiles Riaz.
It was a rich and varied world for the children of Mules Mansion, full of colour and experiences and free of fear. “We mingled freely with people from all walks of life and backgrounds. Our friends were the children of port workers and rope makers to the offspring of Customs officers and professionals. We weren’t affluent, didn’t have cars. But we never felt the need for one.”
“Keamari was considered a very isolated place, “recalls Riaz. “I remember when the film Mughul-e-Azam was screened at the local Nagina cinema; all the ladies went to see it. There was nothing beyond the cinema house,” says Riaz who remembers the Native Jetty Bridge being constructed to connect Keamari to the rest of the city.
There is a lot more in Riaz Ahmed’s treasure trove of memories. Gradually, by the eighties, the educated professional residents of Mules Mansion moved away. But the bonds they formed still remain. Now spread all over the world, the children of Mules Mansion still remain in touch with each other, united by their unique past.
Photography by Naeema Kapadia
