Nestled between two hills in Karachi, Pakistan, lies a very different kind of Silicon Valley. Known as Khadda Market, it is one of the many vibrant places that symbolize the city’s charm. From noon to midnight, it is alive with the buzz of crowded restaurants, supplicating panhandlers, weaving motorcycles, and pushy vendors. Many come to Khadda to eat heavenly paratha rolls and biryani on the hoods of their cars.
But for most of the 2000s, the market allured me and my brother with something else: a street lined with video game and computer stores.
My earliest recollection of playing a video game takes place in the early 2000s. I was about five years old, just returned from the hospital with a stitched injury on my forehead. My brother and I were huge WWE fans, and during our play, I was “steel-chaired” with a teddy bear and sent barreling into a doorknob. Back home, my brother was apologetic, and I made sure to take full advantage of his doting. We played my favorite game on our old Sega console, whizzing around brick cities with tanks.
My brother was older and more conscious of the wider gaming world. As we outgrew our Sega, at some point, he convinced our parents to purchase a PlayStation 2. I was all too happy to play with my Army Men, not knowing from where this mysterious black console had come. But occasionally, wide-eyed, I would hear the whispers of a faraway gaming cornucopia. It wasn’t long before I, too, was able to make the pilgrimage.
I remember walking into Game Ocean for the first time. The shop was dimly lit. The air was heavy with the heady, floral scent of paanand floor cleaner. My eyes widened at the racks of discs that covered the wall. I scanned row after row of games packaged in cheap plastic
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