Ali Sher, sugarcane juice seller

or three decades, Ali Sher has been a familiar sight amidst the bustling streets of Lyari, steadfastly serving up refreshing sugarcane juice to parched passersby. With his sleeves rolled up and his white shirt splattered with the spray of juice from his trusty crusher, Ali Sher operates a small mill powered by a makeshift electric hook - a ‘kunda’ or by the strength of his own hands. He tirelessly churns out the sweet nectar that has become synonymous with the sweltering summers of Pakistan.

Despite the ubiquitous presence of sugarcane juice vendors across the nation, the preparation of this beloved beverage often raises concerns about hygiene. Ali Sher’s stall, like many others, operates in an environment exposed to the elements, with sugarcane stored openly, vulnerable to the dust, smoke and buzzing flies that frequent the streets. Yet, amidst these challenges, Ali Sher takes pride in his craft, skillfully blending in lemon juice and crushed ice to concoct a drink that delights the taste buds of his customers. The lemon prevents the sugarcane juice from turning black,” he explains, revealing the subtle nuances of his artistry.

In his daily operations, Ali Sher finds support in the form of Faraz Ahmad, a young boy from a different linguistic background, but bound by a common purpose. Together, they navigate the demands of the stall, with Faraz assisting in filling glasses and managing the cleaning duties. Both, Ali Sher and Faraz are employed by Muhammad Ilyas, a dynamic young entrepreneur in his late twenties, who moves around to supervise his three stalls across the city. From the industrial hub of SITE to the historic streets of Kharadar, Muhammad Ilyas orchestrates the supply chain, ensuring a steady influx of sugarcane. He arranges five maunds (approximately 200 kilos) of sugarcane per week for each of his stalls from the Ganna Mandi in Sohrab Goth.

Beyond the confines of the stall, Ali Sher’s life unfolds in the labyrinthine alleys of Machhar Colony, where he resides with his wife and three children. Despite the challenges of making ends meet, Ali Sher remains steadfast in his commitment to provide for his family. He speaks of the fluctuations in his earnings, the bounty of summer days yielding a modest fortune compared to the lean winter months. Yet, through it all, he is determined to persevere despite the uncertainties that define his livelihood. Amidst the hustle and bustle of daily life, Ali Sher and his companions continue to quench the thirst of a city, one glass of sugarcane juice at a time.

Muhammad Yasin Qureshi, rickshaw driver

The rhythm of Muhammad Yasin Qureshi’s life is set by the hum of his rickshaw engine, starting at 8:00 in the morning and persisting until the late hours of the night, with seldom a moment to rest. A poignant sigh escapes him as he recounts the routine: “I seldom reach home early. My wife is up, to serve me dinner, but my daughters are usually asleep by then. What to do?” the sacrifice embedded in his words echoes the universal struggle of those who toil for the welfare of their loved ones.

Despite the harsh realities he faces, Qureshi wears a disarming smile, revealing his paan-stained teeth that hint at the moments of respite he finds in the simple joys of life. Clad in a shalwar kamees, his shirt casually open, and feet bare, he weathers the sweltering heat on his rickshaw’s driver’s seat along the potholed road, a bustling shopping district where he patiently awaits customers.

In stark contrast to the ornately adorned rickshaws that Pakistan is renowned for, Qureshi’s vehicle stands as a testament to the wear and tear of years of service. Its peeling paint and dented body silently narrate the tale of countless journeys undertaken to earn a livelihood.

Rooted in the cultural tapestry of Delhi, he is not just a rickshaw driver; he is the linchpin of a family comprising his mother, wife, four daughters, two younger brothers and a sister. With the weight of responsibility squarely on his shoulders, Qureshi is the sole provider, steering the course of their lives with the daily grind of his labour. A substantial portion of his earnings goes toward the daily rent for the rickshaw. Additional expenses for gas, lunch, tea and occasional dinners leave him a slender margin for him to make ends meet. Unfazed by the financial tightrope, he indulges in betel leaves and gutka to chew on. Proudly stating his aversion to smoking, Qureshi reflects on the importance of these indulgences as a means of keeping himself occupied amidst the challenges.

Navigating the crowded streets, Qureshi also encounters the hidden tax of survival – the amount he reluctantly parts with as extortion money to various policemen, adding an extra layer of complexity to his daily ordeal. Despite the odds, he expresses gratitude for his unscathed journey thus far.

“Thanks to Allah, I have not had a major accident. If there is a small dent, or the rickshaw breaks down, the owner gets it fixed. I don’t have to pay,” he states with a hint of contentment, finding solace in the silver lining of his tumultuous occupation.

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