Tributes are still pouring in to condole the death of Abdul Sattar Edhi from all corners of the country and from abroad. The 92-year-old humanitarian died July 8, 2016. The obituaries describe him as a legendary philanthropist. The word "benevolence" evokes kindness and generosity. But he had no money. With not a single rupee in his pocket to spare, he established Pakistan's largest charitable foundation, beginning 60 years ago with a small roadside clinic to treat pennyless sick people, to creating a network of social services, including nursing homes, orphanages, homes for the homeless, the abandoned babies left to die on rubbish heaps, morgues and the world's largest voluntary ambulance fleet.

Tributes are also due to the citizens of Karachi, whose generosity, and volunteer contribution as drivers, pilots, doctors, nurses, caretakers in the homes, cleaners and cooks and many more. His coffers were filled by donors who are traders, business men and women, the small fifty and hundred rupee contributions of ordinary people from the middle-class and from children. Without Karachiites Edhi would not have achieved his greatness.

Money began to pour in after the 1965 war with India, when parts of the city were bombed and mangled bodies left to rot everywhere. Edhi and his wife Bilquis, a nurse by profession, collected the bodies, washed shrouded and buried them. News reports mentioned Edhi's humanitarian service which began in 1951 with a free clinic. He roped in doctors from the Civil Hospital who willingly worked at the clinic in their spare time. The high emotions evoked by the war and the story of his selfless work for the needy opened the purse strings of all and sundry who lived in Karachi. A colleague, now dead, once told me of standing in a long line waiting with his small donation (how much money to spare does a journalist have?). He said, in the evening when the shutters went down, people, in a sort of desperation tried to push their money under the shutter. That was the spirit of Karachi, a city always ready to help. Today, the Edhi foundation operates overwhelmingly on private donations. There is no other social service of the magnitude of Edhi foundation which is run entirely on people's contributions. Today, not only Karachiites but others from all parts of the country and even abroad contribute to the foundation. It is interesting to note, the government tried to become a partner of Edhi by offering money from its own budget. He refused. Being a Karachiite he knew the red tape that strangled honest work and siphoned the majority of funds into government personnel's pockets.

How is it that there are still hordes of beggars and destitutes infesting the city? The answer is that they are not genuine, they are part of a racket. The beggars and destitutes do not really understand beggary, they think they are doing a job. This was brought back to me from a long time ago, and I may have mentioned in some column. At the place where Rashid Minhas Road ends at the intersection of Shahrah-e-Faisal there used to be an Edhi kiosk. Drivers waiting for the green traffic signal would get down and put money in the kiosk. A young beggar with a sleepy baby in her arms approached my vehicle and asked, "why do people give him (the man in the kiosk) money? He is sitting in a nice shady hut while I work in the sun and nobody gives me money."

Money is not the only thing Karachiites contribute to the Edhi foundation. They offer professional service too. To be noted is the fact that the greatest ambulance service in the world is operated by volunteers. The Edhi foundation phenomenon has inspired a number of welfare services in the city. Unfortunately, not all of them are selfless devotion to humanity like Edhi and his family. Some are in it for attracting money, most of which goes into private pockets. There are others who promote religious and often fanatical agendas through their kindness, like feeding or clothing the poor, arranging marriages of orphans and so forth. There are also thieves who have stolen Edhi's collection of animal hides after Eid-ul-Azha, workers who have run away with the collection from kiosks.

The good and the bad types of social workers have received publicity and exposure through the media. You can sympathise, admire or condemn them, as the case may be, but one category of social service for the city is never ever in evidence. The one run by the government itself.