And for our visitors, Guru's founder, Zein Ahmed offers our visitors the following message.
Since it is a month for poetry, prose and gifts for your loved ones, I thought I would share this piece of prose with you and you can visit us for your gifts.
"Finally, my mind obscured by the sea, and having begun to write in your beautiful inks, and in this strange country, I look for the story I have dwelt in for ever it seems. It is simpler not to talk, to push my body to the sweatful limit. Black cherries in the heat, and thick wet peals of mango, I want to send you a crate, wrapped in confetti, and wait for the rains to pour in. The summer takes its own course. And sometimes Karachi seems so familiar, it is as though I am here in carnation as my mother would have been in an earlier life. I spent a day at the Yacht club with a childhood friend I had forsaken for years in the States, and the club is a small sailing port on Bunker Island, a thatched-roof coronation, bamboo to hold that rain in, and wooden deck chairs from the 1920s, all looking out towards the breakwaters, a naval ship anchored still against the horizon, black and a rusted gold, dhows roped in threes, a kind of lost friendship, and then tattered fishing boats from India, and boys the age of Thomas sailing on single-winged "toppers" back and forth, alone, this sea in its might draws me in all the time, sometimes as though it were the sun.
Busy! and yet if you gaze at the water long enough to feel its weight, an image rises. If somehow I could eat the thing I see, and make a word out of it. The same feeling occurred at Bhit Shah's mazaar, when I first returned to Karachi. An original word at the brim of your senses, and yet, not as yet, still further... "