Long Read

hydearbad pakistan smells like diesel and dreams (a busker's diary)

@Adam Wright2/10/2026blog
hydearbad pakistan smells like diesel and dreams (a busker's diary)

the highway into town smells like someone left a ukulele in a melted tire fire. i just checked and it's 28 degrees but with that dry heat that makes your fingertips stick to guitar strings kinda perfect, hope you’re into that.



zero tourists here. just *shamrez cartel selling chai so sweet it’ll rot your molars (worth it) and ghazi dhol wala who taught me three rhythms before demanding 200 rupees ‘for my education’. overheard some truckers at the petrol station muttering about bagh ibn e qasim park having cops who hate spontaneous drum circles - can confirm, they chased me out with sticks. classic.

old man sitting next to vibrant blue truck in dusty street



slept under a bridge near
latifabad junction last night. humidity’s 26% but the ground still sweats here, makes your sleeping bag feel like damp roti. for calories, hit sultan biryani pit near the textile mills (“accidentally” left my harmonica as collateral once). another local rumor: the courtyard behind hira mandi lets buskers play after midnight if you bribe the gatekeeper with cigarettes(“marlboro reds only, chotu!”).

if this place fries your brain,
nawabshah or thatta are shouting distance by rickshaw if you haggle like a feral cat. found the only decent wifi at coffee karachi (sneak onto their rooftop for sunset ragas) while stalking this thread on sindhi folk rhythms. thrifted a cracked tabla from resham gali market for 500 rupees - sounds like a dying goat but the street kids love it.

crowded bazaar with vibrant fabrics under harsh sunlight



warning from a toothless guy named faisal:
never play bollywood covers near the police checkpoint unless you want a ‘tax’ invoice. check tripadvisor for ghost listings of dead cafes, or this yelp dumpster fire reviewing places that closed in 2019. real talk? go sit at phuleli canal* at dawn when the mist makes the beggars’ fires glow purple. steal mangoes. play loud. vanish by noon. - j|’s travel hack: busk outside mosques after prayers, rich uncles toss coins when nostalgic.


You might also be interested in:

About the author: Adam Wright

Writer, thinker, and occasional over-thinker.

Loading discussion...