Twenty-Five Minutes on the Main Vein of Zakarya Goth
To understand the Goth, one must walk the three-kilometer stretch of the main road in Haji Ghulam Zakarya Goth. It is a corridor of survival and commerce, a transit point where the urban sprawl of the M9 motorway meets the quiet resilience of a low-income settlement. Here, life does not merely start early; it erupts.
The journey begins at the edge of the Farms, where the air is thick with the scent of burning wood, diesel and the fine, pervasive dust that defines the Goth’s atmosphere. As you head toward the flyover (on M9), the road reveals itself as a high-octane theater of the working class. It is a 25-minute trek for an able-bodied man, but for the commuter, it is a gauntlet of broken speed breakers and the constant threat of a jay-walking youth disappearing into a cloud of silt.
The Gendered Divide of the Tea Stall
The roadside is dominated by the steam and clatter of tea stalls. These are almost exclusively Pashtun-run bastions of masculinity, where the air is heavy with the smell of strong doodh patti and the low hum of political debate. Men, almost universally clad in the traditional shalwar kameez, occupy the wooden benches, their presence a stark contrast to the women of the Goth. The women move with a “swift, purposeful grace,” draped in hijabs, navigating the male-dominated space with a speed that suggests they are visitors to the main road rather than residents of it.
A Mosaic of Commerce
Despite the lack of formal footpaths, the road is a vibrant marketplace of necessity. The commercial landscape is a masterclass in local economics. Interestingly, a significant number of the grocery retail outlets are operated by Sindhi Hindus, weaving a thread of religious diversity into the daily transactional life of the settlement.
The variety of trade is staggering. In a single kilometer, one passes:
• The Builders: Hardware stores, paint shops, and marble tile outlets that serve the constant, piecemeal construction of the Goth.
• The Artisans: Carpenters, welders, ironmongers, and motorcycle mechanics whose rhythmic hammering provides the road’s soundtrack.
• The Providers: RO plants selling clean water—a vital commodity in a resource-constrained area—alongside pharmaceutical shops and fruit vendors.
The Infrastructure of Neglect
The road’s vibrancy, however, is tempered by a profound infrastructural deficit. There are no designated walkways; pedestrians are forced to share the broken asphalt with bikes and heavy vehicles. This vulnerability is most acute during the monsoon season, when the road transforms from a dusty trail into an impassable canal. Stranded water turns a 25-minute walk into an impossible feat, highlighting the “state failure” that keeps such settlements on the brink of crisis.
Safety, too, is a localized concern. For women and outsiders, the “ogling by youth and bike riders” is a common, uncomfortable feature of the landscape—a reminder of the social friction that exists in high-density, underserved areas.
The Sunday Shift
The rhythm of the Goth changes with the week. Sunday mornings offer a rare, slow-motion version of the road—a momentary silence before the afternoon sun brings back the noise. By evening, the road takes on a festive air, as the commerce peaks and the community gathers to reclaim the space from the dust of the work week.
Haji Ghulam Zakarya Goth is more than just a settlement; it is a testament to the “tenacious spirit” of its inhabitants. It is a place where the economy is built on the backs of small-scale entrepreneurs and where every step from the farms to the flyover tells a story of a community negotiating life, one cup of tea and one dusty mile at a time.