The ghutter gou, ghutter gou call of pigeons carries me into another dimension. An instant calm descends as I park my jeep and walk down a dirt path, through the wrought iron gates of a tiny green domed, white washed building which stands at a slight angle in its grounds. I have seen it from afar, a deep green, jumping out of the golden brown stretch of land that is being developed at break neck speed. A tiny mazar, I presume, like the many small ones that dot Karachi.

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