30 may 2012
t is quite obvious when you look at him that Gul is no dandelion. His steely gaze and soldiered body speak of years of toil, pursuing something that does not come naturally to Pakistanis, let alone considered a serious career or lifestyle option in this part of the world.
Gul was born and raised in Mardan, Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, and his family moved to Karachi “around the same time when Bhutto was executed” after struggling to make ends meet. Karachi, to his father, not only offered the prospect of a better future but a chance to reconnect with family members who had migrated years ago. It also meant a higher cost of living for this family of nine.
“We had to hit the ground running when we moved. The presence of extended family in the city provided comfort but, understandably, no financial assistance. For my parents, it was a daily struggle to feed their seven children, four sons and three daughters, and save enough to pay the rent each month. Being the eldest of the sons, I started work early, often juggling two to three different jobs in a day,” Gul recalls.
He landed his first “real” job at the age of 15, working as a lighting technician in 1983 for Video Spot, a famous Karachi video-production house of the early 1980s. But even he was not quite ready for what followed.
“There were two guys, Aurangzeb and Lala, who used to come to work dressed in all black. At first, I thought it was because of Moharram but then one day they came to work with nunchakus. Needless to say, I was curious. I followed them after work to where the Benazir Park now is and started accompanying them regularly in the weeks to follow when I saw them flying around and doing splits. It was stuff that I had only seen in movies and had not imagined possible for Pakistanis to even attempt. I soon discovered what they were doing was Bando style karate.”
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