To be a Karachi Bugti who yearns for watan and dry wood

Dawn breaks over Ghaggar Phatak on the edge of Karachi. In a cluster of huts stitched together from rough timber, patched canvas and weathered cloth, the morning begins much as it once did hundreds of kilometres away in the hills of Dera Bugti. Inside an otaak, sixty-five-year-old Meerdali Bugti sits on a worn charpai with a faded rilli quilt. Beside the bed stands a recycled cooking-oil tin filled with drinking water, covered with cloth to keep it cool. Everything inside the hut has its plac...

By none@none.com (Zareef Rind)