KARACHI: Sultan Muhammad, a resident of the southern Pakistani city of Karachi, shuddered as he received a phone call that upended his life last week.
On the other end was his daughter, her voice trembling as she pleaded:
“Papa, come home as soon as you can, both brothers have been electrocuted.”
Muhammad’s tragedy was among 17 deaths in electrocution, wall collapse and drowning incidents that were reported in Pakistan’s commercial capital last week, as the city’s crumbling infrastructure once again buckled under heavy monsoon rains. The disaster laid bare both the human toll and the governance failures that accompany Pakistan’s intensifying climate shocks.
For Muhammad, a father of four who works at Karachi airport, only three miles stood between him and his sons, yet choked traffic, flooded streets and paralyzed rescue services turned it into an agonizing eternity.
Soon after being informed about the accident, Muhammad left the airport for Al-Mustafa Hospital in Shah Faisal Colony where he lives, and then to Jinnah Hospital in Saddar in search of his sons, 20-year-old Murad Khan and 11-year-old Siraj Khan, walking for hours as blocked roads bogged him down.
“I was on duty when my daughter called me,” Muhammad, who is in his 50s, recalled. “The traffic was so jammed, and there was so much water, so I walked on foot and reached Jinnah Hospital.”
Siraj was electrocuted near his family’s house. Murad rushed to save his younger brother, but he too received a massive shock. Neighbors took them first to Al-Mustafa Hospital, which referred them to Jinnah Hospital due to their serious condition.
Muhammad’s sister-in-law later told him she too was stuck in traffic near Baloch Colony with the boys’ bodies.
“There, some kind men of Allah saw them crying and mourning, so they did everything, washing, shrouding, burial preparation, and they booked a car and brought them here [home] via Korangi,” he said.
By the time Muhammad returned home, his sons’ bodies had already arrived.
A CITY DROWNING EVERY MONSOON
Muhammad’s grief unfolding against a backdrop all too familiar in Karachi, where each monsoon season exposes both human fragility and systemic neglect.
The city of over 20 million with its dilapidated infrastructure has long seen even moderate rains paralyze life. In August 2020, record-breaking rains killed more than 40 people and left neighborhoods without power for days. Last week’s downpour — more than 300 millimeters recorded between Aug. 19 and Aug. 21 — once again exposed Karachi’s vulnerabilities.
Pakistan, one of the world’s most climate-vulnerable countries, has reported 785 deaths in rain-related incidents since the monsoon season began in late June.
Meteorologists link the rising frequency of extreme weather to climate change.
“Because of climate change, the frequency of these extreme events is increasing, and their severity is also increasing compared to before,” said Sardar Sarfaraz, a former director at the Met Office.
“For every one-degree increase in temperature, 7 percent more moisture evaporates into the atmosphere, which then cools, forms clouds and leads to extreme rainfall events.”
Karachi Mayor Murtaza Wahab said the city’s drainage system was designed for only 40 millimeters of rain.
“So, if 235 millimeters of rain falls in twelve hours, how can a system meant for 40 millimeters handle that,” he asked, adding that authorities had cleared major roads within hours after the rain.
He pointed to structural and political constraints, noting that key drainage channels run past commercial centers like the HBL Plaza, Pakistan Stock Exchange and Shaheen Complex, leaving no room for expansion.
“It is easier to talk, but there are technical problems,” Wahab said.
Karachi is divided among nearly a dozen civic agencies, including cantonment boards and 28 towns, at least 12 of which are controlled by opposition parties Jamaat-e-Islami and Pakistan Tehreek-e-Insaf.
“There has to be one father of the city,” Wahab said, adding that the mayor controls only about 36 percent of Karachi.
CITIZENS AND THE CITY
Amber Alibhai, general secretary of Shehri-Citizens for a Better Environment (CBE), said the problem was not only governance but also residents’ behavior.
“The government and citizens are a team,” she said. “The biggest problem in our drains, streets, and places is that the garbage that goes there, it is not thrown by any political party… We ourselves throw it.”
She criticized unplanned urbanization, with pavements laid over natural catchment areas.
“You haven’t even left your parks open,” she lamented. “The city’s infrastructure has been pushed to a breaking point.”
For Tanveer Hussain, a bike-hailing service rider who lives near Baloch Colony, the rains turned a short commute into an ordeal.
“The bike completely stopped,” he said. “People’s cars were submerged, swept away.”
Nearly a week later, as the city struggles to recover, Muhammad is left to mourn. His elder son had recently secured a job with a Rs45,000 ($158) salary.
“Papa, don’t worry now, I will lessen your burden,” Murad had told him just days earlier, Muhammad said, quoting his deceased son.
“My children are gone, right? But look, someone’s father, someone’s mother, sister, brother, children, if it rains again, an accident can happen again ... My dear ones are gone, both of them, but at least someone else’s should be saved.”
