or more than four decades, Mohammad Saghir has been a quiet fixture in the shadow of Karachi’s City Courts, his typewriter clacking out one legal document at a time. Once seated in the narrow lane facing the courts, he was displaced by the police and now operates across the road, in front of Tayeb Ali Alavi Boys School. Here, he sits on a weathered wooden bench, his typewriter balanced on a small square table. A biryani-seller to his left and a stamp-paper vendor to his right complete this vignette of street commerce.

Now 60, Saghir’s life has been one of resilience. In Dhaka, he ran a canteen, a venture he recalls with pride. “It was my own business,” he says, his voice tinged with nostalgia. But in 1973, two years after the emergence of Bangladesh, Saghir left it all behind, migrating to Karachi.

“I was offered a job at the Steel Mills in Pipri,” he says, “but I didn’t accept it.” Saghir had dreams of becoming a lawyer. However, by 1976, he found himself tethered to his typewriter outside the City Courts, typing out rent agreements, sale deeds, affidavits and miscellaneous applications. His work, though humble, is indispensable to the many who pass through this legal hub. “I charge extra if the document needs attestation,” he admits with a hint of pragmatism.

From his vantage point, Saghir bears witness to the ceaseless ebb and flow of humanity - prisoners shackled in chains, anxious families seeking justice, beggars pleading for alms and the endless parade of lawyers, judges and police officers.

The move to his current location has come at a cost. “When I sat on the other side of the road, I earned Rs 500 to Rs 800 a day. Now, I make barely half of that,” he laments. His daily commute from Shah Faisal Colony adds to the strain, though he has managed a small comfort: an arrangement to lock his typewriter, table and bench securely inside the City Courts building, sparing him he effort of lugging them home every evening.

Life, however, remains harsh. With a meagre income, Saghir and his wife endure a difficult existence, their days marked by struggle and an absence of familial joy as they have no children.

Yet, Saghir persists, his typewriter a steadfast companion in a city that is ever-changing, where dreams may falter but the will to survive remains unbroken.

The writer is an author, illustrator and educator. She may be reached at 

husain.rumana@gmail.com