The Shards of Memory

Among the books that I almost always have at hand - copies of a couple of them are occasionally spotted in the office, in the car, in the loo, even in my travel bag on long trips - is one called Sarodé Ghalib, a collection of Mirza Sahab's couplets compiled by Yusuf Bukhari Dehlavi. It is indexed by theme/topic - a tricky and never totally 'complete-able' task as people continue to find new meanings and shades in his verses that existing indexes have not considered. Such re-interpretations are natural for a work about which many concur with a thought expressed by Ghalib himself - Aatay haeñ ghaeb say yeh mazaameeñ khayaal mayñ -  a view that adds even more dimensions to each phrase and reference.

Along with Aziz-ur-Rahman Sahab's 8-volume(!) Ilmé Majlisee (my 12th birthday gift from Ummi, who purchased it from Kitab Mahal - Qizilibash Chacha's unforgettable bookshop that was an institution in Karachi), it serves well as a reference book when one needs a shayree quotation, specially in these days of rapidly failing memory.

Today, as I mourn with many of you the passing of Ahmad Faraz, Sarodé Ghalib takes on a special significance as it was given to me by him in 1969 - on the occasion of Ghalib's 100th death anniversary - and bears on its first page, at my request, the 3 shayrs that I had first heard Faraz recite. (The reference in the couplets is to the 'de-throning' of the great dictator, Ayub Khan.)

Rest in Peace, Faraz. I can only modify your words and say: Ham ko ghamé hastee bhi gavaara tha keh tüm thay ...

A treat for Karachiites on August 23rd

If you are a Qavvaali lover, or looking for an introduction to the genre, call Abu Muhammad at 0300-210-5393 and ask for a FREE invitation to what will be a fabulous event at the Pearl Continental.

(Invitation Cards will need to be presented at the entrance).

This is the 5th in a series of memorial farshi nashists, held annually in honour of the great Ustad Munshi Raziuddin sahab. These tribute sessions have become one of the most awaited in the city because they offer one opportunity, outside of the homes where a Mahfilé Sama' still means what it once implied, at which the audience is treated to glimpses of the purist qavvaali tradition.

See you there ...

The Twain Meet

Waiting for Professor Aslam Farrukhi to show up for what became, in his delightful retelling, a grand - almost visual - tour of Karachi, 1947, I was fortunate to be to be at the same table as Yusufi Sahab, who, with just 4 books pubished, is arguably the finest writer of Urdu prose today. 

Apologizing for a really pita hua question, I asked him whom he read and was influenced by. I am not sure what name[s] I expected ... but without a moment's pause he surprised me by saying "Mark Twain", which - in retrospect - doesn't seem so odd. He also went on (with almost childish awe) to describe his recent visit to Twain's hometown and the house he lived in.

I hope that T2F will, one day, be honoured by an evening of Yusufi Sahab's readings. How we'll accommodate the hundreds that will turn up, I don't know. Guess that's reason enough to increase the space, Sab ;-)

As a possible result of our colonization, older readers in this part of the world were traditionally more familiar with writers from Britain, as compared to those from the USA, a legacy they passed on via textbooks and home libraries to their young. Over the years, the one good thing to emerge from the Americanization of Everything, is that we have all become familiar with several new and powerful authors from the other side of the Atlantic. In fact, one has to look really hard for good British, non-desi authors in our bookshops!

However, Samuel Longhorn Clemens, better known as Mark Twain, is still not as commonly read in this part of the world as he should be. Here's a piece by him that is as relevant today (and to us) as when it was first published as part of a short story.

O Lord, Our Father

by Mark Twain

O Lord, our father, 

Our young patriots, idols of our hearts, 

Go forth to battle - be Thou near them! 

With them, in spirit, we also go forth 

From the sweet peace of our beloved firesides

To smite the foe.

O Lord, our God, 

Help us to tear their soldiers 

To bloody shreds with our shells; 

Help us to cover their smiling fields 

With the pale forms of their patriot dead;

Help us to drown the thunder of the guns

With the shrieks of their wounded, 

Writhing in pain.

Help us to lay waste their humble homes 

With a hurricane of fire; 

Help us to wring the hearts of their 

Unoffending widows with unavailing grief;

Help us to turn them out roofless 

With their little children to wander unfriended

The wastes of their desolated land 

In rags and hunger and thirst, 

Sports of the sun flames of summer 

And the icy winds of winter, 

Burdened in spirit, worn with travail, 

Imploring Thee for the refuge of the grave and denied it -

For our sakes who adore Thee, Lord, 

Blast their hopes, 

Blight their lives, 

Protract their bitter pilgrimage, 

Make heavy their steps, 

Water their way with their tears, 

Stain the white snow with the blood 

Of their wounded feet!

We ask it in the spirit of love - 

Of Him who is the source of love, 

And Who is the ever-faithful 

Refuge and Friend of all that are sore beset

And seek His aid with humble and contrite hearts.

Amen!

An unforgettable hour

Events at The Second Floor have featured many well-known and some not-so-well-known but exciting personalities. However, some very out-of-the-ordinary people drop in for coffee and conversation on non-event days, too. Ardeshir Cowasjee, Tina Sani, Asif Farrukhi, Attiya Dawood, Sheema Kermani, along with several popular young musicians, writers and artists are frequent visitors. Seated at other tables, the many students who gather here to prepare for their exams and take advantage of the air-conditioning and free wi-fi, get a surprise opportunity to interact more closely with such luminaries than they could at large gatherings.

Yesterday, however, was a really unforgettable treat for me when Asif Farrukhi turned up with Mushtaq Ahmad Yusufi Sahab and Zehra (Nigah) Apa for an hour-long chat over coffee.

My association with the latter (Zehra Apa, not Coffee!) goes way back to my childhood when she was a teenager. This young girl had just exploded into the universe of Mushaeraas, with her scintillating ghazals, coupled with a tarannüm that became the talk of the town. "She has upset many poets who, at her age, used to get their ustaads to write for them ... and especially those who still do", said my father once, naming 2 poets as examples. But I shall disappoint you and refrain from such gossip ...

Zehra Apa has promised not one, but two sessions at T2F ... so, if you have not yet subscribed to its mailing list, the time to do it is now! The first - scheduled for the 18th of June - will focus upon her own works and life. For many it may well be the first experience to enjoy her delightful retelling of anecdotes. The second - at a date to be announced later, when she returns from her trip abroad - will have her reading and reciting her favourite pieces of Urdu prose and poetry, paying homage to works of others - including her contemporaries - something she does with a style all her own. Anyone who has heard her recite Faiz Sahab's Heart Attack on my Aaj Kay Naam CD-ROM, or her stunning unforgettable rendition of Nasir Kazmi's poignant '... kidhar say aaya kidhar gayaa voh', recited to a thoughtful sitar accompaniment by Ustad Kabir Khan  - a far cry from the mauling of recitations by other similar efforts - will vouch for the fact that these examples remain unsurpassed.

Yesterday's hour was spent with Asif, Sabeen and I in guffaws as we heard stories about Saqi Farooqui, Jaun Elia and others and enjoyed the barbed wit of arguably the greatest satirist Urdu prose has ever had. Here's a page of timeless prose from Aabé Güm describing Pakistan's politics. Penned years ago (and sent to me only last week by fellow sea-farer, ANL, from the UAE), this could well have been written today.

While discussing people who 'read' well, the conversation moved to examples of great readers (Gielgud, Guinness, Burton). When I pitched in with my criticism of someone who, generally a brilliant and respected performer, often imbues pieces with unnecessary drama, Yusufi sahab agreed and added: Achchha pa∂hnay kay liyay laazmi hae keh mazmoon iss tarah pa∂ha jaae jaesay müsalmaan Qurãn pa∂htay haeñ ... yaani baghaer samjhay! ("Good reading requires one to recite texts, like Muslims recite the Qurãn: Without understanding!").

Let me end by sharing one anecdote about Jaun Elia that was new for the 3 of us in the 'audience' and embodied that unique man completely (requiring no embellishment on the part of either Zehra Apa or Yusufi Sahab). Sorry about not translating the punch-line ... it just would not work in anything but Urdu:

At the airport, Jaun sahab raised his little finger and excused himself, promising to return in 2 minutes. When he arrived, more than 15 minutes later, a worried friend asked him if all was well and what the cause of the delay was. "Bhai maeñ do minat mayñ aa jaata, laykin vahaañ Urdu Qadamchah daykha to ekhlaaqan küchh dayr aur baeth gayaa", replied the inimitable Jaun.

Operation Cleanup Unearths Treasures ;-)

Found a notebook among the junk which is being given to the kabaa∂iaa.

It contained some pieces from my days at Government College (Lahore). They have now been rescued and hidden in a special new junk collection place in the house. (I hope Nuzhat is not reading this post!)

This is what I discovered of my bachpan kee ghalat-kaariyaañ:

English: 3 Limericks (one unrepeatable at any cost); several angst-ridden entries; 12 pages of abandoned attempts to write short stories which had started developing into either corny or horny writing; a diatribe against the college-election politics of Khalid S. Butt (when he stood aginst Kamal Azfar); a page of Tom Swifties ... Anyone remember those?

Art (er, not!): A drawing of a tinda ... or was it a shaljam? (we were served one or the other far too frequently) followed by some words expressing the desire to give it back to the cook ... with gruesome details about how!

Urdu: 2 Ghazals, 1 Hazal, 1 qit'ah:

nah ham-khayaal haé koee, na ham-zübaañ koee,
ajab qabeelah haé, ham jis meñ aaj rahtay haeñ;
dimaagh aur kaheeñ haé, to dil kisee jaa haé,
takallüfan isay ham phir bhi ghar to kahtay haéñ

- the quadrangle (1957) -

and oodles of (Price-less) droodles (yet another popular activity at the time).

Absolut Joy!

You deserve a really big round of

SABEEN

§

Also, a big

THANK YOU

to

EVERYONE

who helped

make it happen.

Zeeshan Sahil - Lonely no more!

An Evening with Zeeshan Sahil was the event that

launched T2F. Only last week he'd called to say

that he'd be glad to do another reading

there ... and I began thinking of an

event for T2F's first birthday

that would bring him and

other Urdu poets

together.

Yesterday

Asif Farrukhi's call

shattered me completely.

Zeeshan's voice had suddenly been stilled!

He will be missed by everyone

who came into contact with him or

knew him through his verses and books.

Most of all, he will be missed by his love: Karachi.

Only a few days ago,

Fatima Bhutto,

wrote this.

Zeeshan Sahil, an Urdu poet once wrote of our city, our home, "It is a lie that in Karachi, after the rain, the sprouting grass doesn’t have blades deep green and soft. Or that the trees do not give shade without the help of clouds … With us in Karachi live birds who fly from trees through the sound of bullets and bombs; perch on walls; always they gather somewhere to pray. Our books don’t wait inside cupboards for termites. Now our hearts swim these seas where once our eyes searched for golden flowers and our hands tear down the walls that once buried us alive". This, like the calling of Sahil’s birds, is a prayer for us and for our city, our home. Let us await the day that our hands tear down those walls; it won’t be long.

Amen!

Anwar Shaoor at T2F

Poet Anwar Shoor has become synonymous with Sehlé Mumtina'a, a phrase that loosely means as simple as it can possibly get. It is applied to a form of poetry that uses everyday Urdu or simple words to convey a thought that may be much deeper than appears at first glance. And if it is not deep, partaking of the beauty of simplicity, alone, is worth the price of entry.

As you may have guessed, I am a sucker for this form, so here's something I'd like to share with you all.

Incidentally, Anwar learnt to perfect his poetry under the islaah of two great poets of our lifetime and both tremendous favourites of mine: the simplicity loving Masood Tabish (arsh-o-kürsee zaraa sambhal jaaén / pardah ek darmiyaañ say uTh'ta hae) and the incomparable Sirajuddin Zafar (jee chaahta hae bazm meñ ek sham'a-roo ke saath / tasveeré bayqaraarié parvaanah khayñchiyay)

International Women's Day @ T2F

From 2 PM to midnight, T2F had loads of acivities, long and short, with intervals for coffee and change of audience (many were rushing between the numerous other events marking the day in the city).

The afternoon started with the screening of the 2001 telefilm, When Billie Beat Bobby. A turning point in the business side of tennis and a delightful strike for feminism, the match between Billie Jean King and Bobby Riggs was termed The Battle of the Sexes.

The film is often repeated on TV channels and is well worth watching, if you have not seen it already. Billie is played by Holly Hunter, whom many will recall from her Oscar-winning performance in The Piano and also for her role, the same year, in The Firm.

The next session, Sex Sells, was well-attended and attracted many media & advertising personalities and feminists (some were all three!) discussing the exploitation and stereo-typing of women in ads. A short excerpt from Jean Kilbourne's Killing Me Softly 3 (short clips from which can be seen on YouTube) was followed by a few local tv commercials. Fair & Lovely ads seemed to be the most reviled by those present, almost everyone finding the 'fairness meter' a really obnoxious idea. On the other hand, senior ad execs told us that the product was the largest selling one. Not only did it respond to the inner desires of the majority of our females - as discovered by various focus groups - it's biggest buyers are those not seen recently, by many, as being Fair or Lovely: The Pakistan Army! No, no, these guys are not cross-dressers or make-up freaks. The product, apparently, is also an effective sun-block cream.

The session covered many aspects of the MNC/Advertising/Media approach as a whole, rather than focus just on the women's issues, since the latter is part of a greater malaise.

(For more on how ads use 'sex associations', watch a couple of Psychology with Sandy segments on the subject. Also, read this blog entry from South India for other misappropriate elements, such as - in this case - subtle elements of racism, in ads by even the most powerful vendors.)

War Against Rape - one of the most commendable NGOs in Karachi, with chapters in other cities - held a session, next, to introduce its work. What made this session powerful and different from the usual presentations was the presence of Medical and Legal experts discussing the difficulties in supporting the victims. We learnt of the numerous hurdles, irregularities, and prejudices that make justice or help near impossible. The in-house lawyer at WAR has received death-threats as well as being told that she would soon face the same fate her client-victim had to undergo.

The audience sat spellbound, some moved beyond tears, while listening to a brave poor couple who had come to share with us the difficulties they have encountered since the rape of their 8-year old daughter two years ago and the child's continuing ordeal. As expected, the various authorities, bribed by the rapist's side, have made the case proceedings difficult. Far worse, the neighbours have pushed the family out of the area because they are ashamed by the victim's presence! The fact that the rapist lived in their neighbourhood has not been a source of anger or shame. The couple's parents and other members of the family have also cut off ties with them as they feel that the family name has been brought to shame by their reporting the case to the police and making it public. How does one change such mindsets? Where does one begin? How does one tackle the combined effects of feudalism, superstition, false sense of honour and shame, corruption, poverty, unbelievably stupid laws and rules, male-bonding and chauvinism - all of which are at work in such instances?

The mother of the child has suffered a heart attack and minor attacks of paralysis, depleting all the funds that the family had gathered. Her husband has lost his job - the employers held that they were unable to deal with his frequent leave-taking to attend courts. He has been living on an occasional day-wage stint and, mentally, becoming less able by the day to cope with this state. He is hoping to collect the grand sum of Rs 30,000 as a down-payment for an auto-rickshaw that he can use to earn. He knows that that path, too, will be paved with extortion money, police corruption and more, but says he has no other choices.

Next: Sheema Kermani - activist, feminist, dancer, actor - presented a very brief video and then joined two members of her theatrical team in presenting the enjoyable Voh Naak Say Boltay Haeñ, a short one-act play.

Wow!

The next session was a 10-minute reading by Nuzhat. She chose Bayvah - a story about widowhood - written by my father in the late 1920s. While his story is set among a Hindu home, where the traditional attitudes about widowhood were extraordinarly bad, the fact is that a number of Muslims in India, perhaps because of their Hindu ancestry, share almost the same negative views, thankfully stopping short of suttee - the cruel practice of burning widows at the husband's funeral pyre, of which a recent example can be seen in Anand Patwardhan's superb must-see documentary, Father, Son & Holy War.

The story was a great preamble to the screening of Shaali by its author - well-known feminist poet Attiya Dawood.  The story of a tragic child marriage, sadly still a common practice in our villages, had everyone in tears at the end. The young Director, who has treated the subject with great sensitivity, was there to talk about how moved he was during the making and had often wept. The irrepressible little star of the film whose appearance in each scene won the audience's heart afresh, is Attiya and Abro's daughter, Suhaee. She was there, too, and deserved the thunderous applause she received. The tele-film is part of a Hum TV series, Aseer Shahzadi, based on stories by Attiya on women's issues.

The session was followed by a long break, during which, at the request of some audience members, Nuzhat read two of Kishwar Naheed's poems from Beyond Belief - ASR's excellent bi-lingual (Urdu, with English translations) anthology of feminist poetry. (C'mon, ASR, we are waiting for reprints ... but please, please, please skip the crazy Urdu formatting, it's a strain to read.)

After the break the final session of the evening ended on a celebratory note with a gentle musical performance that seemed apt after a day filled with so much. Tp, you have a lovely voice! Hope to keep having you back at T2F often!

----------------------------------

Slightly unrelated footnote: An organization called Ladies Fund held an event at Karachi's Mohatta Palace to award some women for their diverse contributions to society. This is to congratulate the three I know well: Tehrik-e-Niswan's Sheema Kermani, School of Leadership's Shireen Naqvi (who, to celebrate, brought me freshly baked bread from Bakerei, an initiative for the deaf and dumb that she has helped set up in Karachi), and PeaceNiche/T2F's very own Sabeen Mahmud :-)

Quo Vadis?

Quo Vadis - the name of one my all-time favourite films - is a Latin term, meaning 'Where are you going?'

The Pakistani nation had, over the years, offered no real answer to this question and was beginning to look more and more like the personification of the title of Wynford Vaughan-Thomas's 'Madly In All Directions' - a delightful phrase that often triggers the image of Escher's famous, albeit totally unconnected, work ('Relativity') reproduced below.

Mirza Ghalib - always a great resource for an apt shayr - gives us one possible reason for this by stating:

Along comes Election 2008 and, suddenly, the nation finds a voice (except where party-hired goondas or the comperes of the show I am now watching on Business Update choose to throttle it). 

Some election! Some result!

However, while it is difficult enough to reach a goal, when the direction is lacking, it is infinitely more difficult if the goal itself has not been identified before starting off. 60+ years have passed and we have yet to reach a consensus on the basic nature of the country. Democratic? Theocratic? Secular? Ideologically an Islamic Republic? Or a Republic that is a homeland for Muslims? All Muslims?

A shayr of my father comes to mind:

A quiet beginning

The nation has never ushered in a New Year this quietly before. And never before has it, in such absolute solidarity, wished or prayed for its tragic history to be just that: history.

Even without all the controversy surrounding it, from the ever-changing official statements about the cause of death to the blatantly engineered Zardarization of PPP (which will probably end up destroying our largest political party over the coming year), the assassination of BB was an event that shocked Pakistan and forced all of its citizens to take stock. But it was not the only cause of the clouds of grief that hung over our land.

All year round, in 2007, we witnessed the deaths of countless people. Oblivious to guilt and innocence, uncaring of which views were wrong, which right, and which merely senseless, from every corner of our country the loud wails of mourning (in which all voices - regardless of belief systems, political ideologies, and ethnicity - sound the same) shattered the few remaining tiny dreams of the bulk of our population.

Pablo Neruda's "Come and see the blood in the streets ... ", once only a powerful line in a great poem (though a reality to Karachiites for years), transformed into difficult-to-ignore images on our TVs and the obsessed-with-gore vernacular press. (Download the poem in PDF, if you do not have a copy already.)

With each successive tragedy, the questions that Faiz asked of this land of the pure, came back to haunt me:



In case my handwriting proves unreadable:
Tüjh ko kitnoñ ka lahoo chaahiyay, aé arzé vatan,
Jo teray aarizé bay-rang ko gülnaar karayñ?
Kitnee aahoñ say kalayjah tera thandaa ho ga?
Kitnay aañsoo teray sahraaoñ ko gulzaar karayñ?

Here's a translation for those unfamiliar with Urdu:
How many people's blood d'you need, my country,
To bring a glow into your colourless cheeks?
How many sighs will cool your burning breast?
How many tears to make your deserts bloom?

Is there anything that we - as individuals - can do to make this year, and the years that follow, different? I believe that each of us, in our own varied capacities, can and must!

The Not-A-Greeting Card I sent out to my friends at Eed-X'mas-NewYear has a quote from Gandhi who - amply qualified in this regard - offered the following advice: Whatever you do will be insignificant, but it is very important that you do it.

Peace!

Bakray kee maañ kay naam!

Victory takes several forms, Sir ...

You may think you've won



but Majrooh doesn't think so!

The whole ghazal is now available
at my earlier post which is getting populated
fairly fast with links to some of the poets mentioned therein.

The Jalib Session at T2F

The Habib Jalib evening at T2F was not quite what I'd expected it to be. No, it wasn't bad. Everyone else seems to have enjoyed it a lot, with many people discovering him anew and suddenly wanting to get hold of ATJ (to use Adil Najam's tarkeeb).

The kulliyaat has been ordered by some, and everyone wants a CD or two with his recitations (the CDs will be available at T2F after Eed, folks!) ... Surprisingly, many have also asked for a copy of the video that was shown that evening.

From my point of view there were two problems: I felt a bit unsatiated at the end - since very little was really said about him that we did not all know: He was honest. He was committed. He recited well. He had a lovely voice. The few anecdotes that were recounted were the best part and provided greater insight into the man who was - though in a very different manner - the avaamiest poet after Nazeer Akbarabaadi.

The crowd, too, was not as large as it usually is at such events - but that's because NAPA (Is the 'K' silent?) was staging a play, there were two political meetings the same evening, and APMC was screening Dilli-based Yusuf Saeed's Khayal Darpan --- a well-made documentary on Pakistan's Classical Music performers.

I wish a representative of WAF had been there to talk about his strong and encouraging presence at the protests in Lahore during the dark Zia days.

Despite the fact that everyone wanted a copy, it was the video really put me off. The TV channel 'edit' that the co-host, Mujahid Barelvi, had brought along must be among the worst examples of editing I have seen lately. The DVD contained all the broadcast material (badvertisements and that overwhelming Mujahid bit that appears far too frequently in his Doosra Pehlu) - with (aaaargh!) the permissions to FF or REW removed. The main documentary shows extracts from Faris Kermani's documentary, made for BBC's Channel 4 TV. Aitzaz Ahsan and Tariq Ali are among those who appear in it. (I have seen the Faris film, before it was hacked into this gruesome shape. Titled 'Habib Jalib - Poetry of Defiance', it is well worth seeing and appears in various net searches.)

To be fair, the 'mauled' video does feature a sprinkling of choice Jalib pieces recorded at a London gathering, with Zehra [Nigah] Apa presiding. Reciting to a theatre-style seated audience was not Jalib's style. It seemed too formal and incongruous to those of us who have heard him at his best when he recited at the Karachi Press Club, or at mushaeraas and protests that had thousands of attendees, many only coming to the event because he was going to be there.

One of my favourite pieces, Musheer, is included in the video - but I much prefer his very first recitation of it at a mushaaerah held in remembrance of poet Nazar Hyderabadi, with Faiz sahab presiding, while Ayub Khan was lording over Pakistan. My recording, made at that event - on a small portable spool recorder (remember those?) - may not be as good in quality as the professionally recorded version in London, but it does capture the electric atmosphere that Jalib always created with his presence. Incidently, the musheer in question is none other than Ayub's adviser (and author of our National Anthem), poet Hafeez Jalandhari - a loathsome man - who had threatened to 'report' Jalib to the authorities if he did not stop his critical writings against that Dictator-President.

The session ended with Shaeri's answer to Zakir Naik - Wajid Jawad, blogger Jamash (left), and myself reciting selections.

Come March 2008 I will organize another event around Habib Jalib's death anniversary at T2F. If any of you knew him well and can be present to share some insights and stories (or even email them to me - with a short audio/video bit, if possible - it'd be just great!).

Meanwhile, if you wish to hear another great Jalib piece - one that is probably the nazm he was most asked to recite - visit an earlier post of mine where I have begun to add the promised links for some of the poets mentioned in it.

Sharing some treats and tidbits

The last two or three performances by Farida Khanum that I attended had saddened me at the rapid downhill slide in this great artiste's abilities. Shortness of breath - and the unusual brevity of the pieces she sang - left me wondering whether one should continue attending her performances as a respectful duty of an old fan or stop and remember her only as she was at her peak. At the last APMC Annual Conference in Karachi I recall saying to Khalid Ahmad: yaar - lütf haasil karnay kay liyay quvvaté sama'at say ziyaadah to müjhay yaad-daasht say kaam layna pa∂ rahaa haé! So, when someone invited Nuzhat and me to a concert by her last night, I admit to accepting it with some trepidation.

As the evening began, the fear of what could turn out to be a horrible night - and from which one could not escape, because our hostess (Ameena Saiyid) was sitting right behind us - began to be exemplified, given that the huge and impressive-looking sound system turned out to be faulty. A short test-run by brothers Ustad Idrees Hussain (harmonium) and the scintillating Ustad Khursheed Hussain (tabla), had gone well (despite the high audience-noise) ... so who was to guess that the microphone for one of our most respectable artistes would have been left unchecked and necessitate three replacements during the course of her performance. Maybe the recording team thought the hosts were called Saaz OR Awaz!

I can recall a couple o considerably younger performers who, under far less trying circumstances at two of the APMC Karachi concerts, had either walked off or given performances that were filled with equal parts of skill and irritability. It is to FK's temperament that the audience owes thanks. She made light-hearted comments on the mike situation on several occasions and, undaunted, moved ahead, perhaps having braved the fiasco of an evening in India.

Her first piece, an uninspiring but mercifully short Pürya Dhanãsri, fell far short of what one would want from someone of her stature. Shivers! Looks of disappointment and worry from Nuzhat. My face expressionless as my eyes and ears took in the not-surprising applause from an auntie-ful house.

Then, something started to happen and, soon, inspired by some inner muse, Farida Khanum began to become her wonderful self again, bringing to mind a piece of writing about her that described an earlier concert scene: That all-too-familiar coil and quiver of the lips, the relentless twinkle in the eyes, the poise and aplomb that can still send many-a-hearts reeling.

It has been years since I have heard her in such voice. With each piece (though many remained much shorter than what we have been used to from her - but, c'mon, she's 72!) she went a little way further until she became, in voice and gestures, almost indistinguishable at some point from the Farida I had always known and loved.

My earliest memory is of listening to her at the house of her amazing sister[?] Mukhtar Begum, whom my father - with me in tow - had gone to visit professionally. His profession, not hers! (He was a medical doctor and a tremendous lover of poetry and classical music). I recall him saying to MB that he loved (who didn't?) her rendition, in Raag Darbaari, of Agha Hashr's Choree Kaheen Khulay Na Naseemé Bahaar Kee --- and a live performance of the ghazal was the visiting fee he'd collect when she was back on her feet again. MB laughed and said, "Agar trailer (which she pronounced 'tayler') daykhna hae to iss bachchee ko suniyay, daaktar saaheb!" And, so, Abi and I were treated to the voice of young Farida. Unplugged!!! Beautiful. Haunting. Seductive. Especially because it was without the clatter of musicians - the best way to truly gauge a voice. To this day, whenever I hear her sing that ghazal, as I did yesterday, I am reminded of that first unique introduction to her singing.

Oh ... one more thing: Boy, was she stunning as a teenager! :-)

Last night's concert, with a break for snacks, lasted over 4 hours. A range of thumrees, ghazals, and her popular and catchy Punjabi numbers (Ballay Ballay and Baajray Di - almost party-anthems for us when we were young) were sprinkled over the evening. The post-interval session was devoted to farmaaishes and she graciously agreed to start with mine, a ghazal by Daagh Dehlavi in chhoti bahr - a form she always sings amazingly well (in contrast to that other marvellous grand old dame, Iqbal Bano, who - generally - excels at longer bahrs). Uff. It sent my heart aflutter again ... though not dangerously loudly enough for Nuzhat to hear ;-)

One piece brought back memories of a different kind, entirely. Movie memories. And memories of a more personal kind: It was the last movie I saw with my father who died later the same year. The film was Baji, directed by Suleman, brother of actors Santosh Kumar and Darpan. I am unable to find a video of the film, so if any of you spot a copy (vhs/vcd/dvd ... anything) , please email me. I just have to own it! Not just for the story, which was of the kind one usually finds in Bengali films (billed as 'social drama' in my childhood), nor for Nayyer Sultana's convincing performance, but for one of the finest musical scenes in the sub-continent's movie history. My memory isn't perfect but, as far as I can recall, the scene was packed with everything I could have wanted. Let me try and recall, as best as I can:

The wedding ceremony shows a spanning shot of the guests. Since the hero is (if I recall right) a character from Lollywood, he has invited hordes of stars as guest. Thus, the shot features a dazzling array of cameo appearances by any stars that were left out of an already star-studded movie. Name him or her - and you could catch a glimpse among the seated guests. (The people in the movie hall were outdoing each other at shouting out the names as the stars appeared.)

Unlike the usual style of movies then (has it changed much, I wonder), where everyone breaks into an aria, or prances about in the mistaken belief that s/he is dancing, at every opportunity - here was an occasion that actually demanded a song and dance sequence. The decorated stage came into view and two of our greatest classical singers, Nazakat & Salamat performed a superb long piece to the accompaniment of India's great Tabla player, Ustad Allah Rakha. Yes, things were different then. But not too different. The authorities decided that they'd not allow the visuals to feature him so (I think) we probably had pans and other shots while he played. EMI did release the brilliant solo, one that seamlessly bridged the Nazakat-Salamat performance and what followed, as a separate recording!

So what did follow? To the brilliant tabla sound that remained after the classical duo had ended was added the sound of ghungroos ... and from the stage wings, to the cheers of the people in the hall, appeared the two most popular dancers of the time, Amy Minwalla (whom I remember as a lissome lil girl - a far cry from her later appearances - at my first Christmas party in Karachi, at Hotel Metrople, where she performed a Ballet!) and the alluring Panna, the real-world wife of Director Sulaiman. In a well-choreographed dance sequence, they lip-sync'd to two playback singers singing Sajan Laagi Toree Lagan Sajna: Farida Khanum and Madam Noor Jehan!

Could any Pakistani filmgoer, then or now, ask for a better treat?

Back to reality!

Farida Khanum is set to perform again in Karachi, for an audience she loves. Don't miss her performance. I am not sure, but I think the date is the 8th of this month ... and the venue is the Karachi Arts Council. Check out Danka closer to the time. And while you are at it, bookmark the site or add it to your RSS feeds.

See you there ...

Postscript:
I apologize for not putting up more than short bits from FK's performance of last night on the 'net. To be fair, Saaz Aur Awaz - the society that hosted her for the evening - will be selling the professionally (:D) recorded CD set. My recordings are from way back, sitting in the audience, so they lack clarity and definition.

But, to make up, here's one more treat:

Mukhtar Begum, in all her glory!

UPDATE: Adil Najam has posted this also on his very popular ATP blog. The reason I mention this is not because I feel honoured, which I do, but because - given the huge readership of that blog - you will find many more interesting follow-up comments and, hopefully, other people's reminiscences and recommended links, too.

Marching orders

"Left-Right-Right-Right-Right-Halt!" goes the new marching call in my mind.

True Democracy (as much a figment of an idealistic imagination as The Truth) demands that Benazir Zardari, Nawaz Sharif, Qazi Husain Ahmad, Imran Khan, Fazlur Rahman, and General Musharraf be able to stand for elections. The scenario is frightening enough, even if the elctions are "Free and Fair". Add to that a caretaker government that's been taken care of and one soon realizes that, as a Pakistani, one is in a lose-lose situation.

Thinking of the above should be enough for most people who do not share their skin-thickness measurements with hippopotami to lose sleep over. But nothing, really nothing, ever seems to interrupt our stupor. It's alsmost as if we'd swallowed a whole bottle of Valium.

Just this morning I read the following on Dawn's Page #2 (though it was not deemed worthy of space on its Internet Edition, it can be seen in the ePaper version) :

ISLAMABAD, Nov 21: The federal government on Tuesday imposed a ban on open debate on media curbs, suspension of judges and emergency in all colleges and universities in the country.

Unbelievable! When places of learning cease to be - by law (a law promulgated by an 'independent' caretaker government, to be sure) - places of open inquiry and debate, things have sunk to the lowest of depths. Zia had turned our already-weak learning centres into platforms of indoctrination, discrimination, and horror. It had taken several years to see Reason begin, albeit with caution, to knock at those doors again. And now this!

I can imagine His Master's Voice advising, as it always does - primarily because we never tire of asking it for advice (See Manto quote below) - "I've gotten away in this country with a lot more - despite its tradition of perceived democracy. Surely you can do better!" ... And then the chorus of the Chosen Few chime in and chant Jalib's masterpiece: "Advisor" (quoted on an earlier post on my blog).

Aaargh. Where's that Valium?

Manto (Extract from Letter #5 to Uncle Sam)

One day my school-going niece requested me to draw the world map for her. I asked her to wait for a few days and let me inquire from my Uncle Sam which of the countries will disappear from the world map with the use of atomic weapons and which ones will survive. This will make my task of drawing the map easier.

Ghalib: Still creating controversy :-)

The two sessions on Ghalib at T2F had gone delightfully well. A true celebration of that genius, with anecdotes, humour, wit, and song that evoked the spirit of Mirza sahab perfectly. EGO, the boutique on ZamZama (a shopping area in Karachi), decided to join in the fun and commemorate the events with a new tee-shirt, displayed on a mannequin placed just after the entrance. The figure looked kinda irreverently funny, in a white underwear and turquoise tee.

All went well until a local TV channel decided to shoot a talk show series there. After the first couple of episodes were shot, I was surprised to walk into another day of shooting and see a pair of trousers being put on the mannequin. I thought they were just trying to be funny but was taken aback when I was told that their censor-advisor had said they could be contravening some broadcasting code by showing a man in just an underwear. Man? He's an effing 'Manny', yaar. What's the matter with everyone in this country?

"Hello, world. Er-r ... we're an enlightened and moderate people who, er-r, just happened to get turned on by inanimate plastic figures." Guess if Alan Abel had perpetrated his hoax in Pakistan, he'd have gotten a huge following.

For those who haven't seen the tee, up close, here's what it says (and you can enlarge the thing to a poster-print, if you click on the image):

The tee-shirt passed muster with all who attended the two sessions - and that means a total of over 150 people, among them Ghalib aficionados and lovers, old and young. I'd say the crowd was evenly spread, age-wise, and included - at the extreme ends - a couple of high-school students, O-Level Math books in hand, and an 80-year old educationist who is also a Ghalib scholar.

However, last week, as I was settling my bill at the counter, a young man walked up and passed me a small neatly-folded slip of paper and rushed out, without waiting for me to read it, much less respond. I wish he'd stayed - for Sabeen's venture is all about conversation and dialogue. A point of view, however different from mine, would - therefore - have been wonderful to hear and discuss. Anyway, this is what he had written:

Now, of course, he has a right to his view ... and it is, indeed, heartening to see that his objection is to what he considers 'disrespect' for Mirza Ghalib. Nothing could be further from the minds of those of us who wear the tees, those at T2F who chose to display & sell them, and those at EGO who designed and manufactured them. The 2 sessions - I am not sure if he was among the audience on either - paid Mirza Ghalib much loving respect and made him, as later reactions from many of the younger people indicated, more accessible to many.

The word 'hippie', to this young man, probably has the connotations that the establishment of the time had managed to imbue it with: a good-for-nothing, unkempt, drop-out. Skip Stone's The Way of the Hippie offers this:

"... let’s see what defines a hippie. Some say it’s the way people dress, and behave, a lifestyle. Others classify drug users and rock 'n' roll fans or those with certain radical political views as hippies. The dictionary defines a hippie as one who doesn’t conform to society’s standards and advocates a liberal attitude and lifestyle."

Ghalib was, by all reckoning, a non-conformist ... and as great an advocate of the liberal attitude as any. And so, dear young man, Mirza sahab is truly worthy of being called the original hippie (pre-dating , as he did, the 'movement' by over a century). And I - a very strong believer in the hippie philosophy, myself - am proud of having him linked to the movement that began in the 60s and continues to live - in various forms - even today.

If Ghalib were to hear of all this, he'd just smile and say:

Gar ke hae kis kis buraaee say, valay baa eeñ hamah
Zikr mayraa müjh say behtar hae keh, 'T2F' meñ hae!

Just thinking out loud...

This is a kinda personal post directed to those who commented or communicated about my earlier post that featured poetry.

I am trying to figure out what route to take from these 4 options (and am looking for better suggestions to comes out of this post):

1. Shall i go back to that post and provide audio links? It means that many who've read it already won't come back and know if it has been done and, so, won't be able to hear the audio.
2. If I add to that post it'll all have to be done at the same time (aaargh!) ... for the chance of anyone coming repeatedly back to check is nil.
3. Just put them all in one new post, list style, and link the intro to the old post for those who want to know why this odd slection.
4. Really go to town and do separate brief posts on each of the poets and include the poems mentioned as examples.

Helllppppp ...

A long night and a riot of memories ...

Two nights ago I lay down and listened to some old müshaaerees - as Asghar Bhai (Reminder to myself: I need to do a Podcast on him soon!!!) and I used to call the little impromptu sessions we held at my house in the post '71 days. The following couplet from Athar Nafees's amazingly poignant ghazal seemed so relevant after having spent the day thnking about the General's latest faux-ly:

dam-ba-dam ba∂h rahee hae yeh kaesee sadaa
shahr vaalo süno
jaesay aae dabay paaooñ saelé balaa
shahr vaalo süno

I stopped the tape right there and whisked out an old vinyl of Julie Felix to hear, after a really long while, that beautifully powerful voice sing just this verse].

And then I went nuts - shunting between the protest songs of the 60s and 70s (Seeger, Dylan, Baez, Zappa, Joplin) and the Urdu poetry recitals from Müshaeraas and Müshaaerees. I revelled in the voices of:

Jalib: