Motherhood has a sneaky way of eliminating your late-night social life. Even when the kid is asleep, you’d rather that you curl up with a good book in bed, or sleep off the exhaustion from taking care of entirely dependent human being. And all your outings are then restricted to play cafes during the decent hours of the day. For many fathers, however, this is not the case, and every weekend my partner would go out with his friends to this chai dhaba in DHA, Karachi. Tea at night? I’d rather hook myself to a caffeine IV during the day if I want that level of jittery energy at night (yes, I made a Gilmore Girls reference). And sit at a dhaba? I want to have a proper and comfortable dinner with my girlfriends on my night-out, escaping the daily routines of motherhood.
There is a point to this mini-rant, of course. About how public places that individuals inhabit have to do with the multitudes of identities that they have, about who has access to certain spaces within the public domain, and how the setting of certain public spaces influences this access. After having a child, even the type of food on the menu determines what kind of place I’d walk in so that I can enjoy my meal in peace.
I focus this article on unpacking some of the dynamics of access to public spaces through a burgeoning space, Chai Master, which has been around since 2018. Its popularity may have also arose due to restrictions surrounding in-door dining during the Covid-19 times, so going to an open air place for a cup of chai with your mates on a cool, breezy Karachi night might just have been the respite that Karachiites badly needed. This is particularly true for this city where avenues for entertainment are restricted mainly to dining out, whether it is at a hip café, a snazzy restaurant, or simply a dhaba.
The etymology of the word dhaba is also quite interesting. While some are uncertain of the origin of the word, others claim that it derives itself from the lunch box, or tiffin. More popularly, dhabas refer to roadside restaurants in the Indian subcontinent that tend to be located on highways and serve local food to weary travelers (mostly men) who want to rejuvenate themselves during a long journey. Much has been written about how the dhaba trend became more hip with the emergence of such places, again mostly in DHA (pull kay uss paar, on the other side of the bridge). I remember, from my pre-mom days, where visits to places like Chai Shai on Chota Bukhari (a location within Khayaban-e-Bukhari) was the trendy thing to do. And the real revolution in this trend was that women had unrestricted access to these places although as in most Pakistan, there would always be a ‘ladies’ section for the more modest amongst us. And interestingly due to the variety of items on the menu (you had your Nutella paratha, and other upscale items), you would also see entire families sitting there, enjoying a meal.
But what makes Chai Master, so popular and so unique from the other upscale dhabas, which have now spread to other parts of the city as well. Disclaimer: This is not a paid promotion, and as the article will itself reveal, I wish to offer a critique of this space.
Chai Master also has a ‘families’ section, and a ‘boys’ area which means that there is some sort of buy-in to the broader societal dynamics that women necessarily need a separate, private space even if it’s out on the curbside. Is that an illusion of safety? When men accompany women however, they can sit in the ‘Families’ area because it provides men a sense of decency that single londas [lads] have yet to possess. I believe that the different sections within dhabas that aim to bring women out in the public domain in itself is exclusionary because it reinforces the stereotypes that men and women belong in separate spheres.
There is obviously what I would characterise as a ‘hip’ mahul (environment) in this space. People are dressed up the way they would, if they are going to a snazzy restaurant whereas there would be others who would be more dressed-down, in their home attire. This specific dynamic has a certain appeal too. What it communicates is: Everyone is welcome here. And this is quite true. It’s not only humans who are welcomed in this space but canine and feral creatures who appear to have become friends with regular inhabitants of this space. I believe that this aspect definitely carries appeal for those who appear to have soft tendencies towards four-legged creatures (dogs and cats).
But is everyone welcome here? Since my visits to the space have been far and few, (children’s bedtime and work/life exhaustion has a way of restricting you to places open or at least pleasant only at night), I turned to my partner for some insights. If it is only chai that you order, you have to pay PKR200 which is more than, say for example, Café Clifton (that’s a critique for another time) which serves chai at PKR120, or at Quetta Chai mostly inhabited by men which gives you a cup at PKR100. While PKR200 is not a huge amount, it still would not sit well with someone who belongs to the working class. But then Chai Master has its own range of benefits, which includes a variety of table-top and board games, at an additional charge.
If you devour their delicious masala fries (must haves, I tried them and I couldn’t keep my hands off!) that are served in a large bucket, then the bill obviously increases. And I have been told that the large bucket of fries is a special attraction for those with ravenous hunger that occurs after a certain substance has been consumed. Indeed. I smelt that particular substance on my visit almost a year ago, and was left quite astonished that it can be used in such an open space.
While I have been told this particular dynamic has changed in the more recent past, the widespread, open use of a substance illegal in Pakistan conveys utilising a certain kind of social capital. And perhaps material capital too (no way the police roaming in DHA streets would not know about this) that only a certain section of the Pakistani society have access to.
In many ways therefore, what dhabas were meant to symbolise, what they existed in the first place for, have changed. Instead of targeting weary travelers, our upscale dhabas serve to cater to people who want to unwind after a mentally (not necessarily physically) exhausting day at work. The spatial boundaries have not fully broken down. And the class boundaries have not ceased to exist
The writer is our Managing Editor and Assistant Professor at CBEC, SIUT.
Of Spatial Boundaries and Dhabas
Motherhood has a sneaky way of eliminating your late-night social life. Even when the kid is asleep, you’d rather that you curl up with a good book in bed, or sleep off the exhaustion from taking care of entirely dependent human being. And all your outings are then restricted to play cafes during the decent hours of the day. For many fathers, however, this is not the case, and every weekend my partner would go out with his friends to this chai dhaba in DHA, Karachi. Tea at night? I’d rather hook myself to a caffeine IV during the day if I want that level of jittery energy at night (yes, I made a Gilmore Girls reference). And sit at a dhaba? I want to have a proper and comfortable dinner with my girlfriends on my night-out, escaping the daily routines of motherhood.
There is a point to this mini-rant, of course. About how public places that individuals inhabit have to do with the multitudes of identities that they have, about who has access to certain spaces within the public domain, and how the setting of certain public spaces influences this access. After having a child, even the type of food on the menu determines what kind of place I’d walk in so that I can enjoy my meal in peace.
I focus this article on unpacking some of the dynamics of access to public spaces through a burgeoning space, Chai Master, which has been around since 2018. Its popularity may have also arose due to restrictions surrounding in-door dining during the Covid-19 times, so going to an open air place for a cup of chai with your mates on a cool, breezy Karachi night might just have been the respite that Karachiites badly needed. This is particularly true for this city where avenues for entertainment are restricted mainly to dining out, whether it is at a hip café, a snazzy restaurant, or simply a dhaba.
The etymology of the word dhaba is also quite interesting. While some are uncertain of the origin of the word, others claim that it derives itself from the lunch box, or tiffin. More popularly, dhabas refer to roadside restaurants in the Indian subcontinent that tend to be located on highways and serve local food to weary travelers (mostly men) who want to rejuvenate themselves during a long journey. Much has been written about how the dhaba trend became more hip with the emergence of such places, again mostly in DHA (pull kay uss paar, on the other side of the bridge). I remember, from my pre-mom days, where visits to places like Chai Shai on Chota Bukhari (a location within Khayaban-e-Bukhari) was the trendy thing to do. And the real revolution in this trend was that women had unrestricted access to these places although as in most Pakistan, there would always be a ‘ladies’ section for the more modest amongst us. And interestingly due to the variety of items on the menu (you had your Nutella paratha, and other upscale items), you would also see entire families sitting there, enjoying a meal.
But what makes Chai Master, so popular and so unique from the other upscale dhabas, which have now spread to other parts of the city as well. Disclaimer: This is not a paid promotion, and as the article will itself reveal, I wish to offer a critique of this space.
Chai Master also has a ‘families’ section, and a ‘boys’ area which means that there is some sort of buy-in to the broader societal dynamics that women necessarily need a separate, private space even if it’s out on the curbside. Is that an illusion of safety? When men accompany women however, they can sit in the ‘Families’ area because it provides men a sense of decency that single londas [lads] have yet to possess. I believe that the different sections within dhabas that aim to bring women out in the public domain in itself is exclusionary because it reinforces the stereotypes that men and women belong in separate spheres.
There is obviously what I would characterise as a ‘hip’ mahul (environment) in this space. People are dressed up the way they would, if they are going to a snazzy restaurant whereas there would be others who would be more dressed-down, in their home attire. This specific dynamic has a certain appeal too. What it communicates is: Everyone is welcome here. And this is quite true. It’s not only humans who are welcomed in this space but canine and feral creatures who appear to have become friends with regular inhabitants of this space. I believe that this aspect definitely carries appeal for those who appear to have soft tendencies towards four-legged creatures (dogs and cats).
But is everyone welcome here? Since my visits to the space have been far and few, (children’s bedtime and work/life exhaustion has a way of restricting you to places open or at least pleasant only at night), I turned to my partner for some insights. If it is only chai that you order, you have to pay PKR200 which is more than, say for example, Café Clifton (that’s a critique for another time) which serves chai at PKR120, or at Quetta Chai mostly inhabited by men which gives you a cup at PKR100. While PKR200 is not a huge amount, it still would not sit well with someone who belongs to the working class. But then Chai Master has its own range of benefits, which includes a variety of table-top and board games, at an additional charge.
If you devour their delicious masala fries (must haves, I tried them and I couldn’t keep my hands off!) that are served in a large bucket, then the bill obviously increases. And I have been told that the large bucket of fries is a special attraction for those with ravenous hunger that occurs after a certain substance has been consumed. Indeed. I smelt that particular substance on my visit almost a year ago, and was left quite astonished that it can be used in such an open space.
While I have been told this particular dynamic has changed in the more recent past, the widespread, open use of a substance illegal in Pakistan conveys utilising a certain kind of social capital. And perhaps material capital too (no way the police roaming in DHA streets would not know about this) that only a certain section of the Pakistani society have access to.
In many ways therefore, what dhabas were meant to symbolise, what they existed in the first place for, have changed. Instead of targeting weary travelers, our upscale dhabas serve to cater to people who want to unwind after a mentally (not necessarily physically) exhausting day at work. The spatial boundaries have not fully broken down. And the class boundaries have not ceased to exist
The writer is our Managing Editor and Assistant Professor at CBEC, SIUT.
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