Written by: Muhammad Suhayb
Posted on: May 11, 2026 | 
Shaheed-e-Millat Road
Karachi, though it may not possess the long, continuous history of Lahore, has long defied easy narration. From larger-than-life personalities to teeming markets, from once-feared no-go areas to streets that hum with quiet resilience, it reveals itself not as a single, linear story but as a dense mosaic of overlapping histories. Each corner bears the imprint of migration, ambition, struggle, and survival. In Karachi, even the streets are not mere passageways; they are repositories of memory, carrying echoes of the past and traces of lives lived along them.
In Karachi: Untold Stories of the City’s Streets (originally published in Urdu as Yeh Shahrah-i-Aam Nahin: Karachi Ki Yaadgaar Sarrkein), Shah Waliullah Junaidi approaches this complexity with a method that is both deceptively simple and intellectually assured: he lets the streets speak. Junaidi, a senior journalist and seasoned author had been awarded the Tamgha-i-Karachi by Karachi Mayor Murtaza Wahab in April 2026, and has done extensive work on Karachi over the years.
Shah Waliullah Junaidi
The 182-page book offers a carefully researched and engaging exploration of Karachi through the names and histories of its roads. Have you ever been confused when an older relative referred to I.I. Chundrigar Road as McLeod Road, or Abdullah Haroon Road as Victoria Road? Have you found yourself puzzled when a colleague, mid-anecdote, mentions a place that sounds both unfamiliar and oddly familiar? Or wondered why Sher Shah Suri, Empress Noor Jahan, and Tipu Sultan—figures who lived and died long before the British set foot in the subcontinent—still have roads named after them? Junaidi provides clear, well-contextualized answers, weaving together archival detail with narrative ease.
Tipu Sultan Road
By using newspaper clippings and old documents to add authenticity, Junaidi has compiled exclusive material for upcoming vloggers to turn the data into gold. This is not merely a catalogue of old and new names; it is a layered excavation of the forces that shaped them—colonial legacies, post-independence politics, cultural memory, and the individuals who have been inscribed onto the city’s map. In doing so, the book elevates what might have been a straightforward directory into a textured urban history.
Written shortly before the recent demolition work on University Road, the book also sheds light on the origins of Shahrah-e-Iran and Shahrah-e-Iraq—roads that, despite their names, lead nowhere near those countries—revealing the geopolitical and cultural impulses behind such naming.
Shahrah-e-Iran
From Abdul Sattar Edhi Road to Zaibunnisa Street, the book presents concise yet substantive histories of more than a hundred roads—routes most Karachiites traverse daily, often without reflection. Yet, once encountered through Junaidi’s lens, these familiar paths take on new meaning. Routine commutes are recast as journeys through time, and street names emerge as markers of shifting identities. By the end, the reader is left not only better informed but also more attentive to how the past persists in the language of the present.
Junaidi’s central premise—that a city is as much an archive as it is a geography—is not entirely new, but his execution lends it renewed authority. From colonial administrators to post-independence politicians, from Parsi entrepreneurs to influential Muslim figures, the names that line Karachi’s streets form a diverse and sometimes contested collective memory. In tracing these figures, the author also charts the city’s evolving identity.
University Road
One of the book’s most compelling strengths lies in its evocation of a Karachi that feels both distant and uncannily familiar. Through vivid, well-observed detail, readers are transported to a time when the city’s social life revolved around cinemas such as Capitol, Rex, and Rio, and when clubs like the Excelsior, Oasis, and the intriguingly named Club 007 drew vibrant crowds. These glimpses of a more liberal, cosmopolitan Karachi are rendered with warmth, yet tempered by an unmistakable sense of loss. The Karachi that emerges is not merely a place, but a sensibility—a rhythm that has gradually receded.
Yet the author resists the pull of nostalgia as a dominant lens. Interwoven with these recollections are stark reminders of the city’s turbulent history. The same streets have witnessed violence and upheaval: the attempted assassination of Pervez Musharraf on Sharae Faisal, the Karsaz bombing during Benazir Bhutto’s return, and the attack near the United States consulate close to Frere Hall. By placing moments of cultural vibrancy alongside episodes of trauma, the book captures the uneasy coexistence of beauty and brutality that defines Karachi.
Zaib-un-Nisa Street
By uncovering the histories embedded in its streets, the author compels readers to reconsider the city beyond its present-day crises. Karachi emerges not merely as a site of decay or dysfunction, but as a layered repository of resilience, creativity, and memory.
In this sense, Karachi: Untold Stories of the City’s Streets stands as both a tribute and a quiet warning. It celebrates the richness of the city’s past while cautioning against the erosion of collective memory. The title itself—insisting that these are not mere thoroughfares—reads as a subtle manifesto: every street is a story, and every story demands to be remembered.
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