The Last Campaign
A Noir Tale of Time and Transformation The Beginning of the End Karachi was a city that never slept, and neither did I. The streets pulsed with desperation and ambition, a constant tug-of-war between survival and success. I was Shahbaz Raza, the man behind the curtain, the guy who made brands sing and celebrities dance to my tunes. If your product was a failure, I made people believe it was a revolution. If your reputation was in the gutter, I pulled it out, polished it up, and sold it back to the world with a glossy tagline. I ran an empire, stretched between Karachi’s neon glow and New York’s steel towers. A world of deadlines, deals, and caffeine overdoses. Chai in the morning, espresso at noon, whiskey at night. Rinse, repeat, bill the client. But time doesn’t care about your invoice. At 60 , I felt it creeping up behind me like a mugger in a dark alley. The younger crowd—fresh-faced, sharp-dressed, and backed by algorithms—were taking over. My instincts, once razor-shar...