n the heart of Sultanabad, just off the bustling Mai Kolachi Bypass in Karachi, resides a man called Sultan Khan, a seventy-year-old, long-nosed, squint-eyed, tall Pathan hailing from the rugged terrains of Battagram district in Hazara. Despite his regal-sounding name, Sultan Khan is far from being a sultan. In fact he is a poor, almost bald man with a salt and pepper beard dyed a vivid orange with henna.

Sultan Khan, with a wiry strength that belies his age, carries a chhuriwala machine on his back - a large, rudimentary contraption designed for sharpening knives and scissors. His daily routine is a nomadic journey through diverse neighbourhoods of the city, traversing from Nazimabad to Defence, and from MA Jinnah Road to the winding lanes around Tariq Road.

Having called Karachi home since the days of President Ayub Khan, Sultan Khan has witnessed the city’s ever-changing landscape. For the initial two decades, he toiled as a labourer on construction sites, earning a meagre daily wage of Rs 2.50. However, for the past thirty years, he has embraced the role of a knife-sharpener extraordinaire.

His trusty machine was acquired from Ranchore Lines, a place where, according to him, “you can get any machine you want.” Sultan Khan expertly maintains his equipment, occasionally changing the ‘patthar,’ the corundum grindstone shaped like a circular disc into motion, sending sparks flying as the blades regain their sharpness – a spectacle that captivates onlookers, especially curious children.

Sultan Khan, with a hint of nostalgia, shares that he makes sporadic visits, sometimes after six months, sometimes after two years. Remarkably, his wife and children have never set foot in Karachi.

The sharpening ritual takes only a few minutes. The blades of knives or scissors are placed against the grindstone, and as Sultan Khan treadles a large spinning wheel causes the corundum disc to rotate.

At the end of each day, he secures his machine in a safe location, often entrusting it to a fellow Pathan, before returning to his dwelling, an open-air hostel of sorts for single Pathan men. His family, comprising a wife and five children, resides far away in Battagram, in the northern reaches of Pakistan. Three sons work there, the two daughters are married. Sultan Khan, with a hint of nostalgia, shares that he makes sporadic visits, sometimes after six months, sometimes after two years. Remarkably, his wife and children have never set foot in Karachi.

Every morning, at the stroke of 8:00 am, Sultan Khan leaves his dera, embarking on a journey that involves a bus ride to retrieve his machine. As he sets out, he reflects on his daily endeavours, mentioning that on a good day he can earn up to Rs 500 - a testament to the resilience and resourcefulness of a man who has carved his own unique niche in the dynamic tapestry of Karachi. With that, he continues his rhythmic stroll through the city, ready to hone blades and share stories with those who cross his path.

The writer is an author, illustrator and educator. She may be contacted at husain.rumana@gmail.com