used to cross Din Muhammad Wafai Road almost every day without noticing the old stone building that stood silently behind its gates. To me, it was just another relic of Karachi’s colonial past, tucked away between trees and shadows. Eventually I learnt that this was no ordinary structure. It was the Freemasons Lodge, a place wrapped in mystery for decades. Today, the lodge has found a new life as the Sindh Wildlife Museum.

Built in 1914, when Karachi was expanding rapidly under British rule, the lodge was once the meeting ground of the Freemasons, an influential global fraternity often linked with secrecy and exclusivity. Its tall arches and stone façade reflected colonial grandeur. For most of the city’s residents it carried an air of mystery.

Few ever entered the building. There were all kinds of rumours about strange rituals and secret gatherings. “For ordinary Karachiites, this place was wrapped in secrecy,” says a historian of colonial architecture. “People did not know what happened inside, so myths grew around it. That is how it became known as the Jadoo Ghar, or House of Magic.”

The years after independence were unkind to the lodge. The Freemasons lost influence and, by the 1970s, their Karachi meetings had ended. The grand building fell into neglect, its gates locked and its secrets fading into silence. For decades it remained an enigma, admired from the outside but abandoned within.

The story took another turn in the 1990s, when the Sindh Wildlife Department decided to repurpose the lodge as a museum. For a city with little to showcase in terms of natural history, the plan was ambitious. The aim was to preserve Sindh’s biodiversity within the walls of a landmark steeped in history. A modest collection of taxidermy animals, photographs and books was displayed, offering the locals a glimpse into the province’s wildlife. But the museum struggled to survive. With scarce funding, poor promotion and little institutional backing, it soon closed. For nearly 29 years the building again stood neglected, its museum forgotten, its potential wasted and the façade draped in silence.

In 2020 the silence finally broke and things began to change. The Sindh Wildlife Department, with support from the United Nations Development Programme, restored the building and reopened the museum, spending nearly Rs 1.6 million on the project.

The inauguration felt less like the opening of a gallery and more like the rebirth of a forgotten chapter of the city. “This was more than just renovation,” said Javed Ahmed Mahar, chief conservator of the Sindh Wildlife Department. “We wanted to bring back a museum that could educate people about Sindh’s wildlife while respecting the history of this remarkable building. For us, it is a bridge between conservation and culture.”

Inside, the transformation is striking. The museum features over 300 bird species, 100 reptiles and 80 mammals, all preserved through taxidermy. Deer appear frozen in motion, falcons spread their wings mid-flight and turtles reveal their shells with lifelike detail. A mother deer bending protectively over her fawn is among the most admired displays, created by skilled taxidermists who blend science with art.

Importantly, the museum follows a strict no-kill policy. “We are here to celebrate and protect wildlife, not to harm it,” says Mahar. “The animals you see here died of natural causes. We gave them a second life so people could learn from them.”

The museum also houses a library, considered one of the richest collections of wildlife literature in the country. Some volumes date back nearly two centuries. These dusty shelves hold priceless records for researchers and students. There are plans to digitise the collection for wider access. “We have material here that you will not find anywhere else in Pakistan,” Mahar says. “It is a hidden treasure of knowledge.”

For locals, the reopening has also transformed how the building is seen. “As children, we were told this was a haunted place, a Jadoo Ghar where strange things happen,” recalls Rafiq Ahmed, a long-time Saddar resident. “We used to walk past in fear. Now I bring my grandchildren here and, instead of being afraid, they learn about animals. That is a beautiful change.”

Others echo this sentiment. “The building has shifted from secrecy to openness,” says a historian. “What was once the most exclusive lodge in Karachi is a public museum today. The change reflects the evolution of the city itself.”

The Sindh Wildlife Museum is still growing into its role. Since reopening, it has hosted school trips, researchers, photographers and artists. Children stare wide-eyed at the exhibits. Wildlife photographers and painters find inspiration in the lifelike displays.

Officials hope that the museum can expand further, one day transforming into a full-fledged natural history museum at par with those in other major cities. “Conservation begins with awareness. Museums play a key role in that,” Mahar says. “We want this to be a place where future generations come to learn about their environment.”

Perhaps the most powerful aspect of the museum is symbolic. The Freemasons Lodge, once seen as a place of secrecy and fear, has become a house of learning. Its century-old stones still whisper of Karachi’s colonial past, but now its rooms also tell the story of Sindh’s natural wonders. For a city often accused of neglecting its heritage, this transformation is a rare example of revival.

The Sindh Wildlife Museum is not just about animals in glass cases. It is about reclaiming history, reshaping myths and reimagining spaces for public good. The House of Magic has opened its doors again, but this time the magic is real. It lies in the chance to rediscover the wild heart of Sindh, preserved within the walls of a building that once thrived on secrecy.

The contributor is an assistant director in the Election Commission of Pakistan