A Tale of Three Tales

Tale #1

Nuzhat's father, whom I called Mamooñ Jaan, frequently regaled us with amazing tales that were often hilarious and almost always embellished for the sake of the telling, something that a storyteller's craft demands. Also, his stories were never-ending, because - like those of Schehrezade - they always spun off (or had the potential to do so) into several more.

Over half a century ago he once narrated to us how, having had his car hubcaps stolen in Calcutta, he was told by people to visit چور بازار (=Thieves Market). Even before the actual tale began, I seemed perplexed at the thought that a place with such a name, albeit 'unofficial', could exist. Years later, I was even more shocked when I visited Calcutta and heard my sights-guide rickshaw driver point out to a police station as the Chor Bazaar Thaanah!

But, like Mamooñ Jaan, I digress… so, back to his story: Assuming that the area would have a horde of stolen goods in some nooks and crannies, he was amused to find that most shops specialized in specific types of goods and, upon enquiry, was led to the 'motor parts section' and, thence, to the 'hubcaps subsection'! He was disappointed as, not too surprisingly, he couldn't see many Citroën hubcaps around. He was asked by the shopkeeper when the hubcaps had been stolen and when he said "Yesterday …" he was told, "Voh maal to Jum'araat ko aaye gaa" (="That stuff will come in on Thursday").

We found a criminal system being so organized - and so open about itself - really funny. Even at every retelling. (Yes, there were many!)

Tale #2

It was also at Nuzhat's house that I met her 'Sheefi Bhai' - the son of some friends so close to her family that, for all practical purposes, he is considered a cousin. Sheefi - and he was not being satirical - once called Pakistan's Police Force more efficient than those of the rest of the world. The latter, he felt, had to resort to painstakingly track down criminals. "Our police people", he told us, straight-facedly and with obvious awe, "know who has committed the crime. They just are unable to catch them!"

"No Comment" (but only because ROTFLMAO wasn't known then!)

Tale #3

This morning Nuzhat was unable to control her laughter as I read out a front-page story from The News International's City Section.

Here's my annotated abbreviated version (with a link to the full story):

Three die as Bengali gangs clash in Korangi

Two gangs of Bengali robbers clashed with each other in Korangi area late Thursday night over territorial jurisdiction (Interesting that illegal immigrants should fight to death over territories that are not legally theirs, in the first place.) …

According to the police, [two Bengali gang-leaders have] been operating in Sector 50-C, 100-Quarters, Korangi in Zaman Town police limits for the past several years. (So why haven't they been stopped?) …

The area is reportedly inhabited by more than 100,000 illegal Bengali immigrants (Ok, so we now have a load of people engaged in illegal and criminal activities and we have them in one corralled space. So what are we waiting for? An independence movement so that we can arrest them for treason?), but the activities of both gangs had the police chasing after them since a long time (errr ---- but? you mean the police were after them despite their illegal activities? How odd!) …

The police said that when they were informed about the clash, they immediately reached the scene of crime, but due to the narrow lanes in the area, they could not enter. (May I suggest that, next time, we don't send fat policemen?). After several hours, the police managed to enter […] with the help of [an] Armoured Personnel Carrier (OMG: Does this mean that the policemen sent earlier were even fatter than the APC which seems to have gotten through.) …

Officials concerned meanwhile fear that if both these network are not clamped upon (By whom, dear officials? Aren't you supposed to do that?), the area might face a Lyari-like gang war since both Alam and Shakoor commanded the vast support of the Bengalis residing in the area. This apprehension is not [without] reason, as both men had been close friends in the past and used to rob citizens passing through the industrial area together, while also committing house robberies and killing people who resisted. Shakoor Bengali also used to sell narcotics in the area. (Wow! The Police certainly keep a tab on everything. Guess it's needed for their records. No action, of course, was needed to be taken after obtaining all this info.) …

Alam Bengali is said to be very close to Rehman Dakait [=Dacoit] of Lyari, who used to support him on various occasions. Most arms used by Alam Bengali were provided by Rehman Dakait, which included rifles, Kalashnikovs and repeaters. Whenever the police conducted an operation in Lyari, Rehman Dakait used to send his men to Alam’s den in Korangi for shelter. Similarly, when the police operated against Alam Bengali group, Alam and his accomplices found refuge in Dakait’s dens in Lyari. (I REPEAT LOUDLY: Wow! The Police certainly keep a tab on everything. Guess it's needed for their records. No action, of course, was needed to be taken after obtaining all this info.) …

Police officials had decided to launch a grand operation against the criminals, but on late Thursday night, a fierce clash erupted between the two notorious gangs (ANOTHER REPEAT: errr ---- but?) …

The area remained tense till the filing of this report. (I am tense, too, as should all peace-loving folk be. However, I am ambivalent about who worries me more: The gangs or the police. That is, of course, if they are different entities.)

But, seriously, what could be the reason for this confusing state of affairs???

__________________

Oh ... and Sheefi: You win!

For Maleeha Azeem

CONGRATS FOR TOPPING THE CHARTS, MALEEHA !!! 

Faiz sahab would have loved it.

Will celebrate when you get here…

Nuzhat & Zaheer

PS: Hope your own "More" makes it up there, too!

Arundhati Roy drops in …

She was scheduled to deliver the Eqbal Ahmad Memorial Lecture in Lahore, along with Eqbal's close friend, Noam Chomsky. The event got postponed because of some reason or the other and AR decided, on a day's notice, when requested by Women's Action Forum, to utilize her visa and fly over to take part in WAF's event at the Karachi Press Club: Women Reclaiming Public Spaces. 

While this topic has gained more prominence in the face of the physical Taliban onslaught in our villages upcountry, the space has certainly been shrinking over the years, since the even more dangerous onslaught in the cities. of the creeping fundamentalist mindset. This warped system has been busy scoring victories over the brainless since Soddies, Farhat Hashmi, Zia, and his spiritual son, Nawaz Sharif have been helping it along, with the help of some sections of our shahaadat-seeking javaans.

Arundhati, of course, was here to talk about the more broad- based scenario and her experiences in India where the Hindu Taliban (aka RSS) are trying similar tactics, as the recent anti-women incidents in Bangalore have shown. She is, of course more fluent in English than in Urdu, a language that she picked up in Delhi when she moved there from the South. In fact, last night she told us that the only sentence in Urdu that she knew to speak, when she arrived in Delhi, was a strange line from a story she'd learnt in school: Jab sübah aankh khülee to daykha kütyaa maree pa∂ee haé. I suspect she could not have used that in her conversations too often.

It was, therefore, a delight to hear when she prefaced her talk today, by describing a TV interview she had seen, that she has improved her vocabulary considerably. Sabeen has put up the full video of AR's talk. (Were YOU there?)

Arundhati - as anyone who has met her will testify - combines simplicity, warmth, grace, charm, vivaciousness, radiance, with an intellect and passionate activism that is extremely rare.

For some reason the only other image that came to more than one mind last night, during discussions over dinner, was that of Nandita Das.

Everyone knows AR for her novel, The God of Small Things, later political writings, her fiery speeches, and the espousing of causes that fight social injustices. But many may not be aware that ND is not just an actor (and Director of Firaaq), She, too, is a strong feminist and activist, as I learnt when she gave me her short public service clips. Take a look at Car Park, Jalebi, and Roll Call - three very short videos (around a minute each!) on Education.  I found them extremely moving.

PS: 8th May was also our 39th Wedding Anniversary - so we couldn't have asked for a better gift!

A Tale of Two Anthems

Aé sarzameené paak

Zarray teray haéñ aaj sitaaroñ se taabnaak

Roshan haé kehkashaañ se kaheeñ aaj tayree khaak

Aé sarzameené paak

اے سرزمینِ پاك

ذرّے ترے ہیں آج ستاروں سے تابناك

روشن ہے كہكشاں سے كہیں آج تیری خاك

اے سرزمینِ پاك

O' pure land,

your every particle is more luminous than the stars.

Your dust is brighter than the Milky Way.

O' Pure Land

These are the only lines I can recall from Pakistan's FIRST National Anthem. It was written by the then Lahore-based poet, Jagannath Azad, in response to the Quaid's wish that our Anthem be written by a non-Muslim to underscore the vision of a secular Pakistan. The current Anthem (which includes the phrase Saayaé Khüdaaé Züljalaal that, now, apparently bristles some) was adopted just a few years later.

Can anyone help dig up the rest of the original?

While on the subject of the Anthem, people around my age may remember its majestic sound from the days of our youth. The richness of the band due so much, I guess, to the sounds of the instruments of that time - as well as the chorus version - has long disappeared, to be replaced by a relatively uninspiring re-recorded sound that leaves me cold.

Thanks to our finest composer-arranger-musician Arshad Mahmood's direction, and a brilliant recreation by the children of Karachi High School, you can download and hear that majesty again in this recording. 

I'd like to direct you to two of my earlier posts (this and this) that are linked to this topic.

Laugh a while ... there may be a lot to cry about soon!

1. Each time I hear one of our boozing, womanizing, murderous, hypocritical leaders speak of Islam I am reminded of Dilawar Figar:

Agarcheh poora Musalmaan to naheeñ laykin
Maeñ Apnay deen se rishtah to jo∂ saktaa hooñ
Namaaz-o-Rozah-Hajj-o-Zakaat küchh nah sahee
Shabé Baraat pataakhah to chho∂ saktaa hooñ

2. Alexandre Dumas provided the perfect reason for voting PPP or MQM (or even, horror of horrors, JI and JUI) instead of Imran Khan &c or Nawaz Sharif &c when he said, "Rogues are preferable to imbeciles because they sometimes take a rest."

3. T2F's ex-Landlord is, like many of my friends, a mohaajir Pathan from the UP, so I've been wondering if the current situation in Karachi demands that he shoot himself!

4. I close with another Dilawar Figar gem of which I was reminded by the recent arrest of 'miscreants':

Iss khabar par to naheeñ müjh ko ta'ajjüb, Ae Figar:
Ayk ghündah halqaé Lahore mayñ pak∂aa gayaa.
Haañ, agar tho∂ee si haerat haé, to voh iss baat par:
Kaésa ghündah thaa ke jo iss daur mayñ pak∂aa gayaa?

Lysistrategy

Some believe that history repeats itself. Their opponents contend that it is nothing more than a nice sounding bit of rhetoric.

But one woman's legendary effort to stop the Peloponnesian War has become part of historical theatre. Translated into several languages, Lysistrata is one of the most staged plays. An Urdu version has even been performed in Pakistan by Sheema Kermani and her Tehrik-e-Niswan group.

Now, at least that part of of history seems to be repeating itself, as this BBC news item shows:

Kenyan women hit men with sex ban

Women's activist groups in Kenya have slapped their partners with a week-long sex ban in protest over the infighting plaguing the national unity government.
The Women's Development Organisation coalition said they would also pay prostitutes to join their strike.
The campaigners are asking the wives of the Kenyan president and the prime minister to join in the embargo.
They say they want to avoid a repeat of the violence which convulsed the country after the late-2007 elections.
Relations between Kenya's coalition partners, led by President Mwai Kibaki and Prime Minister Raila Odinga, have become increasingly acrimonious.
Now the dispute has moved to the nation's bedrooms.

Lead from the front

Patricia Nyaundi, executive director of the Federation of Women Lawyers (Fida), one of the organisations in the campaign, said they hoped the seven-day sex ban would force the squabbling rivals to make up.
She said the campaign would start from her bedroom and that emissaries had been sent to the two leaders' wives, Ida Odinga and Lucy Kibaki, urging them to join in and lead from the front.
"Even commercial sex workers should join in the campaign which is so vital to the country," Mrs Nyaundi told the BBC's Focus on Africa programme.
"Great decisions are made during pillow talk, so we are asking the two ladies at that intimate moment to ask their husbands: 'Darling can you do something for Kenya?'"

Army wives in India and Pakistan: Here's your chance to make a REAL contribution!

Just what IS Shariah?

Given the extremes of our society and the Muslim Ümmah, it seems impossible for the average person to go beyond just the emotional outbursts for or against the imposition of the Shariah.

I am also unclear, when I talk with some people (especially men), about how they feel that their lives would be affected. The majority of them seem - while not physically flogging females in public - to treat women with such denigration, contempt and 'violence' (not just in their own homes but in 'respected' - if not necessarily respectable - institutions and organizations), in a predominantly Muslim society, that one wonders if some women weren't better off being buried alive - a practice to which Islam is said to have put an end.

Soddy Arabia has Shariah. Alcohol, Porn, Music, Illicit Sex … all are available. Without too much worry, I am told by friends there, to the chosen few and the well-connected. The richest among them even actually remain really pure within the country and fly out on non-Shariah holidays. I am sure that, after the initial 'revolution' - although I doubt that it will succeed (which is not to say that lives will not continue to be lost during the battle) - this place will be no different from the country that supports us and the Wahhabis.

Consider: If all this chopping of hands, flogging, the (controversial by Qur'anic injunctions) 'stoning to death' and the less horrifying — but by no means less restrictive and against human rights — laws pertaining to the status of women, were really abhorrent to all Pakistanis (and to many, including minorities, from the world over) would they sell their principles to go work there for a few Riyaal more? And should they, by this argument, not be equally willing to accept the imposition of similar views here, in their own homes, if the Talibans in power raised their wages in exchange for tacit support?

In a bid, for me and those who read my posts, to understand just what Shariah is, what is its source, and from where does it get its sanction, I would like to invite a guest post from some knowledgeable, unemotional person who could inform us with logic and history as to why we must reject or accept it, since 'Constitutionally' we are bound by it, anyway. (Let's face it, this fact does make the whole debate even more confusing to many here and — judging by frequent queries I get — to non-Muslim friends abroad who are wondering what all this is about, specially given the varying slants their own media offers.)

OK. As I understand it (and I am absolutely open to correction):

1. Qur'an is something that Muslims (generally - for I am beginning to see fissures here, too, and not just of 'interpretation') are agreed upon as The Source that all Muslims follow.

2. The Qur'an states that, other than Itself, Muslims follow the Sünnah — The Way of the Prophet (again, many people mistake the Hadith as being an intrinsic part of the Sünnah ... but I would want to stay, for the sake of this discussion, with the clear-cut distinction of the terms).

3. The Hadith — with all it's shades from Zaeef to Qavi, and the even more arbitrary term, Qüdsi — raises many questions, and not merely of authenticity (when one finds even the Saheehs containing highly doubtful and debatable passages). I am more concerned with the Qur'an claiming, on the one hand, that it is 'simple to understand' and, on the other, believers claiming that it is all but impossible to understand without the Hadith. I just wish that Allah's "followers" would at least accept that He knows better.

Remember, the Qur'an was being recited and preached in the marketplace and was being effective in converting audiences that included the illiterate and non-Arabs, so it could hardly be in an exclusive, high-flown, philosophy-ridddled language — a premise that some modern translators are beginning to consider.

As for the Hadith, here are some Qur'anic references to ponder. Forget how pro-Hadith translators have tried to 'cover up' by translating at is 'stories' or 'legends' or whatever … keep the Arabic before you and notice the use of the word, 'Hadith', or it's dervatives in the 'original'. (Surely, there are several words for stories and anecdotes in Arabic, a very rich language, but - just as surely - Allah must have reason to use a particular word is used at a specific instance.)

S45/A6-7 Such are the Signs of God, which We rehearse to thee in Truth; then in what Hadith will they believe after God and His Signs?

S31/A6 And among men are those who follow, instead, frivolous Hadith, diverting others from the path of Allah without knowledge … These have incurred a shameful retribution.

On at least a couple of other occasions this (or a minor variation) occurs: fabi ayyi hadeethin ba'adahu yu'minoon (= Which Hadith, beside this, do they believe in?)

4. The Fiq'ah: Mainly refers to legalistic interpretations by FIVE accepted faqeehs - FOUR among the Sünnis and ONE among the Shiaas.

I have often wondered why DID the Ümmah stop at five? I mean, the "accepted five" were explaining things, to the best of their ability and with good intent, but according to their times and personal müshaahidaat (hence the makroohaat, for example). So why can't there be a modern 'faqeeh', for our times, based on several further centuries of human experience, rather than mere splinter groups identifying themselves within the fiqah of one of these five?

What about a "non-taqleedi" approach that allows one to choose whatever one's mind accepts from each of them?

And what of Ijtehaad?

So, the questions is, "Is the Shariah a combination of all of the above? Or a mere concoction by theocratic forces … to be interpreted for political gains and throttling 'opposition' however/whenever?"

Send guest-post to me including tiny url references where appropriate, by email. Others, please add your comments so that the guest-post writer can address your questions, too.

Medical Advice

This was sent out, initially, by email to a few doctor friends. I have been prompted to share it on my blog by Dr Zafar Mehdi who received it as a forward from someone on my mail list. He insisted that I place his name on my blog when responding to his request  "… and give me my 5 minutes of glory. I have never had the honour of being on any media." :-)

Sildenafil kee taareef

Yeh gaa∂ee kyaa yüñhee chaltee rahay gee?

On the Taliboom's Pro-Love Marriage Stance

Swat Taliban promote ‘love marriages’
(The News, April 19, 2009) - via Adil Najam's ATP

The Taliban of Swat have set up a bureau named ‘Shuba-e-Aroosat’ for arranging love marriages of couples who are denied the marriage of choice by their families for one reason or the other, reports BBC Urdu Service. Taliban spokesman Muslim Khan said the marriage bureau headed by Taliban Commander Abu Ammad arranged 11 ‘love marriages’ in the last nine days while 300 girls and boys are waiting for their turn. “The love marriage aspirants contact the bureau on a fixed telephone number. The Taliban collect their particulars and then contact their familites to arrange these choice marriages,” he said, adding that Islam allows every adult to get marry according to his/her own choice. He said, “Most of the girls, or their families, who contacted us wish to marry ‘militant’ Taliban.” Analysts say the Taliban are paving the way for themselves to marry the girls of their choice. It is really strange that they flog the couples on one hand for moving together while on the other hand allow young couples to marry according to their choice. Also the question arises how is it possible for a boy or girl to propose while they have not seen each other, reports BBC Urdu Service.

Whoaaa!

Haé zann hee pasé pardah, faqat lab peh Khüdaa hae
Talib haeñ yeh kiss cheez ke, yeh aaj khülaa haé

Inn par na hañso tüm, keh bohat yeh bhi haé yaaro
Sad shükr koee aaj sooé-zann* to huaa haé

* Since the punning is aural, I decided to leave it in the romanized style.

============================

Note: It's never fun trying to explain jokes, but when one is part of a nation so unfamiliar with it's National Language that one needs to ask before making a presentation or taking a class whether they understand it, I guess one should.

The last class I interacted with 3 days ago - Class VIII students mainly from mid-income families - unanimously said they'd rather I spoke in English. And this in Karachi, the home of the 'muhaajir'. Haah!

I did get the same reaction in Lahore, but only at a very elite rich-brat school (mainly from its richer, brattier teachers!) although I think Aitchison and LUMS would not have reacted this way, for I find that their students speak Urdu reasonably well (or, at least, frequently).

Hence, here's a somewhat justifiiable - rather than presumptuous - effort at an Urdu Lesson :-)  for those wishing to understand the 'double-pun'. Here are the 4 components:

soo' (seen | vaao | hamzah) = kharaabi / evil
zann (zoé | noon) = gümaan / conjecture

⁂ سوِٰظَن  sooé zann = the evil of conjecture

soo (seen vaao) = taraf / direction
zann (zay noon) = aurat / woman

⁂ سوٰے زَن  sooé zann = towards women

Iqbal Bano: You will be greatly missed!

      CLICK ON THE IMAGE FOR A RARE TREAT

Beyond the Flogging-Video Debate

Lo and behold. Nizaamé Adl has arrived in at least one part of the country - and promises (threatens - if you do not agree with this version) to come soon to a location near you.

It's no longer, then, just the matter of a debate between blogger Sabizak, who responded strongly and sensibly to what was probably the Urdu version of an email from Anila Weldon that has been doing the usual rounds. Read them both, if you haven't already.

My only comment on AW's email - since Sabizak and many others have already responded to most of this and similar views - is about the line that says "Nowhere in the world does one react to a video specially the one made on a handy camera..."

Hmmmm. Really, Anila? Remember Rodney King?

The debate has raged much more widely for the past few days on every conceivable electronic and print forum. Even Taliban spokesmen (no point in ever using 'spokespersons' in their context!) seem confused. Appearing on different TV channels they - (and even the same person on different occasions) - alternately share the views held by Anila and others who feel that the video is fake and, in other interviews, defiantly stand their ground and defend the flogging.

A senior Tehreeké Taliban leader, Muslim Khan sahab, not only did not consider challenging the authenticity of the video but also went so far as to say that the girl was lucky she was only flogged because of insufficient evidence!!! Had full proof been available, she would have been stoned. Watch his interview.

This is definitely a first! I've never heard that under any system - much less under one that aligns itself with a divinely inspired one - an unproven crime, gets a reduced sentence. Will the new spate of Qazis make statements like, "Err .. we can't prove theft, but, hmmm,  the guy kinda does look suspicious. I'd say let's just get his pinkie this time." - ?

The same maulana, in the opening statement of the above linked video, also criticizes the way the punishment was given, because it was meted out in full public view and not inside the house. Soddy Arabians would beg to differ. They stone to death or behead in public, based on the Qurãnic injunction quoted in an interview by journalist Ansar Abbasi that says people must view the punishment.

"My own take is that if the video is fake, the creators certainly went through a lot of unnecessary trouble staging this episode and then left mistakes in! Not the kind of thing proper film makers and editors are likely to slip up on, I imagine. I mean this has to be professional work, na? It couldn't be an amateur effort: Who'd pay for the 'extras' ... all those people, including kids, standing around? I am surprised all the critics missed out on the possibility of there being a man under that bürqa. Or is that only done when an escape is desired?

I know for a fact, as do you, that this kind of thing happens in real life all the time in areas under the Taliban … and much worse happens in Soddy Arabia in full public view. There is no restriction on filming it, nor should there be - after all the perpetrators are not ashamed but are actually proud of following what they think is Sharea or Islam."

I, therefore, choose to stand by the following paragraph that appears at the end of NYT's editorial:

"Many Pakistanis have wasted their time decrying the video as a conspiracy intended to defame Islam and Pakistan. They should be demanding that the army — Pakistan’s strongest and most functional institution — defend against an insurgency that increasingly threatens the state. Like their military and political leaders, Pakistan’s people are in a pernicious state of denial about where the real danger lies."

Of course, it may already be too late. Threats to women activists have begun in more earnest than before, forcing some to retreat to safer spaces. Threats to women on the street have increased. People are already being jailed for not praying according to one news report on TV. (My friend, Dr. Shamim, an earnest Muslim, wonders if prayers uttered under the threat of jails are earnest and will be heard by God.)

The Lal Masjid cleric has been released on bail and - if things go the way they seem to be headed (that's two words!) - will soon be free to continue his nefarious activities with impunity.

Education - deemed essential to a country's future - is in a state of shambles in Talibanized areas and under threat everywhere. After razing 200 schools in one part of the country alone - and not just girls' schools that they claim to be a westernized idea - several schools in major cities have been given warnings.

The Taliban, as I glean from hearing some of them on TV, believe that the only education that Muslims (read 'men') need to undergo for a better life is an Islamic education. This seems to be at odds with the oft quoted hadees ('Go as far as China to seek knowledge'). For one, I do not see any mention of this being addressed to males, alone. For another, the Prophet was obviously suggesting that his followers study a lot more than just religious tomes. Unless China had an Islamic University at that time to which we were supposed to trek. 

All religious schools of thought, other than the Talibani view, are targeted, too, making it unsafe even to profess Islam as your religion in this Islamic state. Shias (Pervez Hoodbhoy, during his recent talk in Karachi, displayed images of Taliban atrocities against this sect according to Bina Shah who was present) have been a regular target. Now even Sunni followers of Sufism are being targeted, forcing them to adopt positions of violence at complete odds with their peaceful beliefs, as one can see from this frightening report that Abu Dhabi's The National carried today:

The puritan Takfiri ideology adopted by the Pakistani Taliban militants has repeatedly brought them to conflict with gaddi nashin, the descendants of Sufi saints who yield great political power in Pakistan.

Their ranks include Yusaf Raza Gilani, the Pakistani prime minister, and Shah Mehmood Qureshi, the foreign minister.

To date, the conflict has been limited to gaddi nashin in the Khyber tribal agency, to the east of Peshawar, and Swat.

The commander of Lashkar-i-Islami, Mangal Bagh, had last year expelled Pir Saif-ur-Rehman, a gaddi nashin, after their followers fought armed battles. He now lives in exile in central Punjab province.

Lashkar-i-Islami continues to clash with followers of Noor-ul-Haq Qadri, another leader of Sufi followers in the Khyber Agency who has been appointed a junior minister in the federal cabinet.

The Swat Taliban faced their stiffest resistance from Pir Samiullah, a gaddi nashin who had formed a militia of followers and killed about 100 militants. He was shot dead in December in a battle with the Taliban, after army units called in for support went to the wrong location.

His corpse was exhumed by militants and put on display at the main square of Mingora, the capital of Swat region, to be buried later at an undisclosed location.

Will the Taliban win?

Certainly not the hearts and souls of most Pakistanis (even in Swat they have genuin-ish support from less than a quarter of the population - though it is seen as increasing in %age as people escape from there and the demographics change).

But, yes, they could rule through threats and the force of guns. After all our own military has done so over the same population for years.

My latest T-Shirt reads: Anyone for Nizaamé Aql?

PS: Adil, for a small royalty you can go ahead! ;-)

The Shanaakht Fiasco

{I started writing this post before the [heart]Breaking News of the cancellation of the festival hit me. Despite my criticism of some of it's flaws, I think that nurturing it would, over time, have had it evolve into something more sensible and sensitive. The closing down bodes badly for art and many other activities ... but the organizers were left with no options, given the to-ing & fro-ing of the PPP and governmental commitments.}

The incident at CAP's Shanakht Festival yesterday should convince people that all 17 crore hearts do not beat as one all the time. Oh, of course they do, sometimes. But NOT when an identity is being forced, instead of being allowed to develop.

The event - despite my personal objections to some aspects of it - is an effort that needs to be encouraged and guided. The very important and noble task that CAP (The Citizen's Archive of Pakistan - or The Citizens Archive of Pakisan) has undertaken, of gathering oral, textual, and image-based histories of Pakistan,is commendable. Yet, IMHO, the organization should be an archiver, not a view-point creator. Its archives should be resources for some to find their roots, others to understand individual or collective identities, for some to comprehend even the opposing views on numerous topics through the years, and yet others to use excerpts in whatever form of research they are undertaking (and for whatever cause).

In and of itself an archive is not meant to offer a slanted stance, though nuanced interpretations may be derived from it for diverse purposes. For example, a WWII Archive would not be the same as that of the Holocaust Museum, though images from the latter would certainly be part of the former. At least that is how I have viewed CAP's project.

Last year, too, I had questioned the reasoning about the CAP festival focusing on shanaakht and was told that it was "because the young are trying to find their identity". Being not-so-young, I felt that my criticism would be viewed as just another old-person's usual censure of the young, so I backed off … recalling in the process that one of the slogans I shouted in my visible hippie days was 'Never Trust Anyone Over Forty!' (With age, contrary to expectations, I have altered the 'Forty' to 'Thirty-Five' for my occasional talks.)

The festival's opening day - yesterday - had a successful start - 1500 children came for the festival and also participated in art activities organized by T2F. The evening offered some interesting and nostalgic moments for me. Listening, once again, to The Little Master was certainly one that brought tears to my eyes as he recalled the old matches and the tutoring he received from Master Abdul Aziz. He shared the evening with the wonderful commentator, Jamshed Marker, talking about his involvement with our sports and politics. Meeting Lutfullah Khan Sahab, was, as usual a delight. Photographs and images from his vast collection were on display and this energetic young man of 93(!) was there to be part of the festivities. His legendary music collection is now being digitized and, perfectionist that he is, the process will take 3 lifetimes - by his own reckoning - to be completed. Can't wait ;-)

As the evening moved on, the crowd swelled. Numerous strands - exhibitions, chats, speeches - attracted people differently.

The atmosphere was truly festive. Ethan Casey who seems to have a special relationship with our country was there to talk of his last and next book. And he was going to speak at T2F. Yessss! T2F, now. between its own old and new venues, was looking gorgeously cute (if you'll pardon my use of a word that I have all but expunged from my vocabulary since I heard a lady say she thought Zakir Naek was cute) in its little stall and the adjacent speaker's area.

It was during Ethan's talk that we suddenly became aware of a disturbance, followed almost immediately by an aggressive crowd screamin blue murder and ordering us all to close down and get away "before we burn the place down". Soon this led to sounds of firing and some people moving out quickly while others, almost led by Beena Sarwar, trying to 'talk' to the mob to get to the root of the problem.

We soon discovered that the crowd was PPP supporters—  (someone later said it was the PSF but, to me, the two main people were too old to be students. One, in fact, was a journalist I have encountered before) — who were expressing their anger at an obnoxious and meaningless piece of drivel passing off as art. Mind you, all art is subjective and it's drivel-ness (to me) may be challenged by a number of people, just as my disgust at Adnan Sami Khan's music usually is. On the other hand, even if my greatest favorite exponent of Classical Music, Pt Bhimsen Joshi, decided to sing a piece full of obscenities at the APMC, I'd certainly not support it.

The image in question, now sadly all over the internet (and I beseech those bloggers whom I count among my friends to remove it), was extremely offensive to me and objectionable at several levels. I am NOT a Benazir supporter, however immensely pained I was at her death. I am not a member of the PPP, nor have I ever voted for them (or for anyone else from among the menu of crooks, extortionists, rapists, kidnappers, fundos, and murderers offered to us by various parties). 

I will not reproduce the image here to give it further currency, but it is now common knowledge that it portrayed BB sitting in the evil and mal'oon Zia's lap. My reaction was that this was ridiculously meaningless.

We have seen 'photoons' - photo cartoons - of her being married to Nawaz and Altaf on the net before. I did not take offense to them because they were satirical comments on real alliances. After all, even the textual statements in the press referred to these, at times, as 'marriages of convenience' or 'an unholy political matrimony'. The images only carried the representation further. I admit that I, too, on hearing that JI chief Qazi Husain Ahmad had tried to prevent Mian Nawaz Sharif from forming an alliance with BB, had passed around (among friends) a photoshopped image of the two newlyweds - with Husain Ahmad looking sullen - and captioned it Jab Mian-BB raazi to kyaa karay ga Qazi.

BB & Zia? That cockeyed asshole had murdered her father! She had never ever negotiated any 'deal' with him. So just what DID this image represent? I mean merely the ability to manipulate images doesn't always produce art, does it? And what did the term Stiff Competition  - the title given to the image, signify? I will not repeat the remarks that brought out. 

Several posts/blogs hastily commented on the matter, one 'toning down' the image's offensiveness (and sexual connotation) by stating that it showed an infant Benazir. Not only was this untrue, but even in that case it would have been more suitable to show, as infants, those leaders of today who were nurtured through their political infancy by that bloody dictator. Would that have been acceptable to their followers? I suspect not. I assure you that at least one party would have burnt down the entire area had their leader been shown, even with justifiable sarcasm, in the lap of one of his several mentors. 

Add to this the fact that the Bhuttos bring out emotions far stronger - and the issue is not whether such emotions are wrong or right - among their supporters who have consistently laid down their lives for these symbols and icons. Yesterday one of those leading the mob was in tears as he said he'd spent 11 years in jail protecting the dignity of this woman who was being insulted. You may find such emotional outbursts, and the violent reactions that inevitably follow, condemnable but the problem is that we are a nation among which a large population is easily aroused to such acts. So, a little judiciousness and caution would make sense, too, specially when the creator and the curators of the image are risking the lives and properties of others.

I was mainly offended by it as a feminist. What gives anyone the liberty to do this and display it publicly, inviting the wrath and endangering the safety of others. Would the artist - a woman, herself, I was shocked to learn - be ok if someone put up an image of hers in some insinuating position with any man? (BTW, Insiya also raises similar questions in a piece that presents the views of someone a generation apart. And the comments provide even greater insight into what the younger generation thinks.)

I realize that celebrities are fair game but only if the game is fair! And how far can this go? What if the pose or postures represented become more obscene - never mind whatever that means to different people? Isn't there a self-censorship or restraint that one is supposed to excercise? Do all of those who use a zillion swear words a day use them indiscriminately before their parents/children? Do we walk around naked on the streets because we believe that God created us naked and, therefore, clothes are the work of the devil? Do we shit in public? That IS self-censorship and respect for our surroundings.

Defenders of the terms, 'artistic license' and 'freedom of expression', may insist that there's nothing wrong and the reactions are stupid. I'd like to dare them to display some of the works from an international museum in their own open-to-public galleries. Not that I disagree with them that both freedoms must exist. It's just that there is a time and place for everything. (Pornography is available, including the kind that features hardcore images, in most book and video stores in the liberal West. But it is confined to a separate corner or a high bookshelf, out of the immediate sight of any other than those looking for it.)

None of this is meant to condone the aggressiveness and violence, threatened and carried out (at least to property) by the PPP jiyaalaas. Although they were clearly not acting on official PPP orders, I do suspect that there were other games at play. What was strangely obvious was the absence of the Arts Council biggies making any effort to tone things down. In fact some people among the mob said that they had received calls from the venue officials, asking them to come and see this image - and many felt that the members of the Arts Council were complicit in the planning, since they are having internal political struggles. Another rioter, obviously up in the hierarchy, claimed that they had been told (by whom, was not clear!) that the army had funded the exhibition and 'some Major' had instructed CAP to display the image. Bull!!! We shall, of course, never get to the truth.

Finally, it was the media that - as usual - sensationalized the story. By using phrases such as 'objectionable art' in their headlines they only help the fundamentalists and spineless moderates - both for different reasons - find excuses for not displaying art. DAWN reports PPP Leader Mr Mehdi as saying "controversial art should not be displayed publicly". This kind of statement will promote censorship and, sooner or later, art exhibitions will be asked, to 'clear' their works in advance with 'the authorities'. Following that, we will have nincompoops, with no understanding of art, 'failing' works at whim or 'passing' them against bribes. This is not a fantasy - it has happened before and will happen again.

And, remember, this leads to nothing but fascism in the long run.

Mr Mehdi went on to say, “The sympathisers protested to the Arts Council representatives and the organisers (the Citizens Archive of Pakistan) and asked them to remove the offensive picture. However, they refused. It was a peaceful protest, but there was some tension because of the refusal. People got emotional as the organisers refused to take down the picture.” If that absolute lie is what was conveyed to him, his statement should have begun: The sympathisers 'claimed' to have protested ...

I decided to withdraw from my sessions at T2F - scheduled for the 9th & 11th - in protest at the insensitivity of the organizers in including such an image. Despite being opposed to accepting the artificiality of the identity the festival was bent on creating, I had felt that such festivals and events would familiarize the younger audiences with various aspects of their free-flowing identities. So, I was there as a T2F board member and had planned a tribute to Urdu prose and poetry (under the title of Sheereenié Güftaar) and was, in the second session, to join Asif Farrukhi in a romp through Pakistan's history through Urdu shaaeri. 

Guess that'll now have to wait until T2F re-opens. (A small selection from what was going to be played will be on this blog by Sunday.)

A sad end to a great opening day … but, "We are like that only!"

A treat for Karachiites & visitors

They have many fans in Pakistan and overseas. They take qavvaali festivals by storm everywhere they go - and, boy, do they go everywhere! (See the embedded video at the end of this post.) Yet, it's surprising how many people in their own country have not yet been exposed to this amazing troupé. The Qavvaali Ka Safar concert on 28th March provides yet another opportunity for the uninitiated to change this state.

All of us qavvaali lovers in Pakistan have, in our collections, loads of Sabri Brothers and tons of Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan ... but of the gharana that boasts of being the direct descendants of Saamat bin Ibrahim, the ace shaagird of Amir Khusrau and the head of the Qavvaal Bachchaas that Khusrau trained in this genre, we have precious little. 

One possible reason, I am sure, is the lack of audio and video recordings released by this group locally, something that I intend to help rectify over the course of the year (specially through the release of rare private recordings of their father, the incomparable Munshi Raziuddin). I also hope to convince the families of Munshi Ji's illustrious cousins, Manzoor Niazi sahab and Bahauddin sahab to let me include some of their recordings for the planned archives and special releases. Both these cousins' parties, too, being part of the same heritage, shared a fair amount of the repertoire but delivered the individual items with their own distinct flavours and each had a title or two that became associated with them forever: Manzoor Niazi's Naseema Jaanibé Bat'haa and Bahauddin's Kaesa Naach Nachaaya come immediately to mind. Both of these are available on the Citibank-sponsored set that is now a collector's item due, in part, to the wonderful notes that accompanied it. The audios were pirated (naturally!) and are available easily in most seedy CD stores. 

While Fareed Ayaz, his brothers - the amazing Abu Mohammad, among them - and the generation coming up (keep your ears open for Moiz and Hamza!), continue to preserve the tradition of rendering qavvaali in its purest classical form - they are at their best in samaa environments - those who have heard them in concerts know that their range extends way beyond that. Because their musical heritage includes, and is greatly influenced by, the famed ustaad Taan Ras Khan sahab, court musician to Bahadur Shah Zafar, they tackle shudhh classical raags - be it dhrupad ang or the more common khayaal form - with as much ease as they do pieces from today's popular repertoire.

Once in a while they have been known to include qavvaalis popularized by some of their well-known peers, although this happens only when the audience requests it - which is, thankfully, rare. C'mon, concert attendees … you've come to hear what these guys do best, so listen to their specialities. (In any case, how can one listen to a Sabri cover, however well sung, without Ghulam Farid's booming "Alllaaaaaah", or watch it without the silent qavvaali bit that only he could get away with by accompanying it with a twinkle in his eyes and a mischievous smile?)

They delight their fans with the works of Rumi, Hafiz, Khusrau, Bulley Shah, Kabir, and the later poets - such as Jigar Muradabadi (whose Saraapa never fails to entrance the listeners, even non-believers, with the sheer beauty of its words). They glide from Arabi to Farsi, Hindi, Poorbi, Punjabi, Seraiki, and Urdu smoothly. They sing modern foot-tapping qavvaalis and the traditional haal-inducing ones, but also inject the khaanqaahi slow, langurous melodies (such as Har Shab Manam Fataadah) into the performance, some - like Teree Yaad Hae Mann Kaa Chaen, Piyaa - transporting lovers into another time and place. But it is their sazeenaa, bahlaava, payvand-kaari, and the weaving of sargams and taans seamlessly into their performances that I enjoy most of all.

If you have not heard the full range of this troupé's capabilities, come and be converted. Bring others along, too, not just for a very enjoyable evening but one which will enrich your knowledge as Fareed Ayaz, Abu Mohammad, and others - (expect the unexpected!) - trace the development and growth of this all-encompassing genre. If you are already a fan, we'll see you there, anyway, but do bring friends to introduce them to this bunch of wonder-weavers and the genre ... and to financially support T2F in its shift to the new, expanded premises. That's very important, too.

(Thank you, Fareed & Abu, and everyone else in the party, for donating the proceeds and supporting a space that has helped enliven many of our evenings).

Here's a real first!

The past IS another country!

Adil Najam & Owais Mughal never cease to amaze me for the sheer range of topics they manage to cover at any given time. It really is All Things Pakistan! I am truly delighted to see Politically Incorrect or a Funny Ad? featured immediately after Iftikhar Chaudhry Reinstated: What Now?

Since the CJ is being written about everywhere, I don't think I could add much to it, other than this: I'll be impressed by the 'true independence' of the judiciary when the reinstated CJ feels neither pressured by a khisiana president nor by the Sharifs' demand for returning favours and does not reverse the judicial order against them, if he genuinely feels that upholding it would be right.

Now to the ad and ATP post that prompted me to write. (Actually, this was also a form of of procrastination, given the pile of work that lies before me.) But do visit the ATP post first. Done? Ok.

After the flood of 'Fair & Lovely' - from its very name to all its implications and the horrifying ads - nothing seems politically incorrect. (Although political correctness, itself, often goes ridiculously far: Dwarfs are 'vertically challenged'? Gimme a break!!!)

I have mentioned this in some other post, but it's worth repeating: Fair & Lovely lists Pakistan's Armed Forces as its largest purchaser! Does the enemy have any chance after that?

My tangential objection, however, is to the Urdu[?]: Gharayloo-o-Office? Even a pageful of 'aaarghs' wouldn't express what I feel.

'Vaao' for 'and', as we dying purists will hold, should - strictly speaking - be used only to connect two Urdu words (generally, though not always, nouns) that are of Persian or Arabic origin. Vahm-o-Gumaañ and Saum-o-Salaat are fine. Chaabi-o-Taala is a no-no!

This applies to not just Hindi examples, like the one above, but also to words and phrases from other languages that have gained acceptability in Urdu: Computer-o-Monitor? Nopes! No English. Just Faarsi-o-Arabi. Which is not the same as Persian-o-Arabic! However, Gharayloo-o-Office sinks the misuse to a really low depth. It even sounds horrible!

I know, I know. Some of you are saying 'language changes' and this old man is clinging to a past with no sensible reason. Ok. So maybe it is a personal quirk. But, then, this is a personal blog. (Owais/Adil, this is why I did not comment on ATP).

Perhaps I represent a generation that still clings to some of what we thought were the niceties of the past. I am reminded of 3 Urdu lines that I always recall with delight. They'll also serve to better show you where - as they'd say in the changed language of today - 'I am coming from'. All 3 examples are quoted from memory, so they are not verbatim. All refer to the period immediately after 1947:

The first is from the famous Khwaja Mueenuddin play Laal Qilay Say Lalukhet Tak. The young hero informs his father "baagh mayñ kavvay chahchahaa rahay haeñ". The shocked Nawab saahab says, indignantly, "Chahchahaa rahay haeñ? Jab maeñ mar jaaooñ ga to 'peehooñ peehooñ' karayñ gay?"

The second is from the inimitable pen of Mushtaq Ahmad Yusufi. Describing his horror after a visit to a singing girl in Karachi's Napier Road, once this city's only 'red-light' district (ab to har mo∂ par chiraaghaañ hae!), a character in his book says: "Üss kambakht ka talaffüz to üss kay kirdaar say bhi ziaadah kharaab niklaa!"

The third, perhaps less remembered, has a particular reference to Karachi's street Urdu, influenced, as it then was, by Bombay-vaalaas and the Gujratis. Majeed Lahori, who edited Namakdaan and gave us such wonderful characters as Ramzani (the Everyman), proverbial seths Tube Jee & Tyre Jee (a reference to Tayyab Ji & Taahir Ji), and Fraudsons (representing business groups that had sprung up overnight), was also a prolific humourous poet. His collection, Kaané Namak, desperately needs a re-printing. This couplet is part of one of his more popular ghazals:

Paan mayñ choona jaastee maaro

Kitnee sheereeñ zabaan haé, pyaaray

(At the Shanaakht Festival to be held at the Karachi's Arts Council in early April I hope to share some of Majeed Lahori's work , along with that of other humourous poets.)

Such reactions about language are not common only among those who cling to Urdu. When publicity posters for Alfred Hitchcock's "The Birds" were plastered in London's Tube Stations, they claimed (in correct grammar and with an obvious reference to the popular line of the McCarthy era: The Russians Are Coming!): "The Birds is coming! The Birds is coming!". This was, obviously, too much for some (pigmentally challenged?) Englishman who scrawled across several of them: "And good English is wenting!"

We Interrupt This Blog For Some Breaking News ...

Read this!

Hey folks. Sorry for the disappearance ...

... assuming you missed me at all.

Ups. Downs. Events. Crises. The usual fortnight: SNAFU! (If you are too young to know what that stands for, go look the abbreviation up. Err ... not if you are too, too young, though. In which case you shouldn't even be on my blog.)

Through all this, several posts have been brewing, too. Some are still in my mind, some on my trusty old MacBook Pro. But there just hasn't been time.

Anyway. Starting with a brief post tonite - just an image (not that it took less time than writing a post would have) - I hope to work on a couple of posts over the weekend to conjoin and share some of the more pleasant experiences I've had. Those interested in Urdu will find them of greater interest, since two of the three events (and the memories they brought back) are centered around that language. And I promise some delicious --- brief but appetite-whetting --- audio clips. Soon.

Meanwhile, here's a sneak-peak at the cover of the sequel to our favorite bad boy's album, Clash Ka Khauf, released earlier this month.

Keep on the lookout for the songs on your usual piracy websites. Two of my fave tracks are: Bum Maaro, Bum and Zabaané Yaaré Mann Tharkee.

Na hota T2F to ...

Read Bina Shah's piece in the Dawn

(Karachi Metropolitan)

today.

Or read it on the net ...

Hitting the ground running ...

Please pass on the url of this post to your friends - Zak

A direct message from Sabeen Mahmud

17th January 2009

Dear PeaceNiche and T2F Community,

612 days ago T2F opened its doors to you. Our vision was lofty, and frankly, a bit mad. Who would walk up to the second floor of an office building on Khayaban-e-Ittehad to listen to a poet rambling on about revolution, or a scientist arguing in favour of evolution, or some kids playing drums? Well, as it turns out, thousands of people ...

In these 612 days minus Mondays, our tiny space has hosted over 150 events featuring thought leaders, artists, poets, musicians, scientists, magicians, writers, philosophers, dancers, actors, lawyers, and activists. Hundreds of you have written in to tell us how much T2F means to you and to the city of Karachi. Every e-mail, snail mail, text message, and Facebook Wall post that you have sent has given us the strength to carry on. Many of you have supported us through your donations and even helped us replace our stolen Mac. We can't thank you enough.

By now you are probably thinking that we're closing down and that this is a goodbye note. No such luck :D But there is some critical news that we need to share with you.

We called our landlord the day-before-yesterday, to ask him when he was going to get the lift fixed. He was non-committal and then said he wanted us to vacate the premises. The initial shock was soon replaced by calm determination and optimism.

At yesterday's literary event, we broke the news. Practically everyone came forward to express solidarity and support. Some of you graciously volunteered your offices, houses, gardens, and basements for us to conduct our events till we find our own space. And one of you, a volunteer/student/journalist, kick-started the donation drive with a contribution of Rs. 5,000. Thank you Batool.

So, here's the plan:

We plan to vacate the current premises by early February 2009. We have already been offered several temporary spaces to conduct our events until such time that we find a permanent venue. We would like to move to a new space - a home we can call our own - as soon as possible. It's going to be tough and we can't do it alone. We simply don't have the funds. As you know, PeaceNiche is a non-profit organization and we have meagre funding. We are reaching out to you to help us in any way that you can. We will be writing to you again with specific requirements, but in the meanwhile, please spread the word about our need for a permanent, rent-free space so that we can get up and running without losing momentum.

Over the next few days, please come to T2F as often as possible - we'll recreate the magic wherever we go but this is where it all started. Thank you Karachi for believing in us.

Peace/Sabeen

__________________________________________

Sabeen Mahmud
Director

PeaceNiche / The Second Floor
Phone: (92-300) 823-0276
http://www.peaceniche.org | http://www.t2f.biz

About Us

The Second Floor (T2F) is a project of PeaceNiche, a not-for-profit NGO committed to becoming a vibrant centre of Pakistan’s developing civil society. T2F is a community platform for open dialogue and features a coffeehouse, bookshop, and exhibition gallery.

=========================

Only around 10 days ago I had spoken with the landlord regarding the elevator that has been out of commission for a while, as a result of vandalism, and during promising to arrangethe repairs soon he had mentioned how much - with our association of several years (he was also the landlord of our office,  b.i.t.s., in the same building for years) - he would like us to stay on in the present space "for 10 years if you like". Now he was suddenly asking us to vacate and, while there was no direct threat that he was making, he certainly wasn't dropping big names, from A to Z, needlessly and without rhyme or reason during his conversation ...

باغباں نے آگ دی جب آشیانے كو مرے

جن پہ تكیہ تھا وہی پتّے ہوا دینے لگے

All my friends had told me not to be hopeful about there ever being any changes in the way this country runs. Being the optimist I am, I chose to not lose hope ... a hope that was bolstered further by one particularly important person in our politics, who had expressed over several mail exchanges that "this time it will be very different". HaaH! 

=============

Sunday Update: Dawn Metropolitan carried this piece today. Thanks a million, Bina.

Fellow Pakistanis, rejoice ...

the ICT revolution has really come to Pakistan now:

Story #1:

Our driver, Ehsan, is literate. He reads an Urdu newspaper (sadly, the wrong one, but that's because the relatively better ones are overpriced and unaffordable for most). He loves Dr Sher Shah's short stories. He can also read English signage and headlines and has been asking me for a cheap computer for his 7-year-old child (I am looking around). He wants the child to be tech savvy, because "ab iss kay sivaa chaara naheeñ ..."

Recently his brother, who runs a cab, fell very ill and had to undergo biopsies and numerous tests. When one of the reports arrived, it contained the usual indecipherable jargon that labs use so that you have to go back to the doc (with whom it's in league and has paid commission to for recommending it in the first place). You need to do this to be able to understand even that the tests are all clear.

I looked at it and said I'd ask my friend, Dr Shamim, and Ehsan said that he'd certainly like to follow this up as the report had indicated a heart or lung problem "üss mayñ 'pulmonary' ka lafz likha haé aur maeñ nay mohallay kay ayk la∂kay say Internet par check karvaaya to yeh matlab maaloom hua."

Story #2:

Our maid, Fatima, is illeterate but not innumerate. The latter hurdle she crossed when she got a phone at home during Karachi's killer days so that she and her sons who worked in factories could communicate. (She now has a cellphone, to keep in touch with her expanding family for whom she has slogged away over years of widowhood, during which, despite increasing illnesses and weakness, she has even saved and managed to help her sons build a small house.)

The other day I bought a Sandwich Grill and decided to teach how to use it. I had hardly begun to talk while opening the box when she said, "haañ, haañ, sahab ... do. Müjh ko aata hae." Surprised, I asked her if she owned one. "Naheeñ. Apan loag iss ka kyaa karayñgay. Maeñ nay to 'BBC Food' par daykh kar samjha hae!"

Delightful, na?

At the Dentist

OK ... so this woman walks in and from about five feet away stares hard at me and says in a really lovey tone, "When did you get this shirt?" ... then takes another step forward while pulling out her glasses (perhaps to examine my clothing at a closer range) and then suddenly stops and steps back and says "Shit. I thought you were someone else!"

This is for her:


;-)

The Void (& The CREaTIoNist's Filler!)

In any English Medium school in Pakistan - be it the one that people are almost dying to send their child to, or the little one on the corner of the street near your house which thinks that to be really 'acceptable' it's essential to have the word 'Saint' in its name (the one near mine is called "St. Humpty Dumpty's") - there is one common problem: Getting the children interested in reading Urdu books.

There are many reasons, of course.

For one, many parents pay more than they can afford just so their child can get a basic knowledge of English - hoping that, in later years, this will open up better job opportunities. In fact it does, both internationally and locally. So when their child starts reading English books, comics, newspapers and magazines, they feel they are getting a return on their investment and rarely notice (or purposely overlook) the almost total absence of Urdu books around their child. (I live in Karachi so I am basing this on my experience, but friends across the country tell me that books in the national and regional languages share, at best, the same fate everywhere. YMMV.)

For another, the quality of the Urdu books for each age group, though improving slowly now, is still so low in terms of print quality, paper quality, and illustrations (all of which are victims of 'the economies of scale') in comparison to their English counterparts that no child finds them attractive enough to choose from the school library.

One thing that puzzles me, though, is why the 'content', too, is so poor. While English books present adventures and situations that are contemporary and within the direct or indirect (via Films & TV) experience of the child, the Urdu books are often still stuck in another century. Why are there no Enid Blytons, Roald Dahls, J K Rowlings, Shel Silversteins, or even R L Stines? Why did things come to a halt with Toat Batoat and Paesa Library?

A few Urdu books from The Book Group - despite some flaws (I recall Anita Ghulamali fuming at the book that focused on Mohaavraas) - did raise hopes, at least through the production quality and wonderful illustrations.

Some large school systems have brought out their own series that offers shades of improvement over the run of the mill material, as do books from established publishers. But these, too, concentrate primarily on the production quality. Thoughtless editing mars several of them.

For example, instead of actively negating stereotypes - particularly of women - that do so much damage, some actually reinforce them. Often the husband is shown coming home from work in a chauffeur-driven car while children and house-wifey dear run outside to greet him - a rather atypical situation in the home of many children who go to these upper-middle-class and elite schools. In one book mom and kids in such a scenario are even shouting out, in unison, "Hamaaray liyay kyaa laaé?" Just a few pages later, girls are shown choosing to play with dolls, while boys choose cars ... again a strange representation, today. Stand outside many of these types of schools at drop-time and see how many women (compared to men) drive their children to school or arrive to teach there.

Nationalistic lip-service to Maadaré Millat aside, few stories, if any, are ever centred around working women - except the token nurse or someone on the periphery. This from teaching or publishing organizations that are not just filled with women on their workforce but frequently even headed by them!

Poetry, one of Urdu's greatest pleasures, receives a really rough treatment. Technically wrong lines (especially in the case of mauzooniat) are often found, as are misquoted verses. This passes through not just the Editors but also, unchecked, through Urdu teachers who do not make corrections that their English-teaching counterparts would routinely make in a similar situation in the same school. Why? Because, as products of the same Urdu-rejecting education system, they know no better!

Of course, trying to point out a mistake to the school is even worse. Either - if the teacher is vengeful, and some are - your child has to bear the brunt for having a 'finicky' parent or, if you and your child are lucky, you merely get - as I did - a stupid response.

Glancing at 6-year old Ragni's Urdu notebook I noticed that in the homework given to her a word had been written wrongly (the assignment was in the teacher's hand and a letter of the alphabet in it contained an extra 'shosha').

I sent a separate polite note to her saying that she should be a little more careful as the children would think that the 'shape' was the correct one ... to which the teacher responded that the child in question was too young to read the homework assignment and, obviously, it would be read by a parent who is expected to know the correct form and, so, there really was no problem. O-kayyy....

Enter - The Deceiver: One problem that poor quality Urdu books (as well as poorly printed pirated English books) published here have created is that schools are hungry for any well-presented books in Urdu and Islamiyaat (the 2nd of the 3 subjects that children find boring for the way it is taught ... the third being Pak Studies.) I shan't even delve into the fact - at least in this post - that Urdu course books have turned almost entirely into 'Islamiyaat plus Pak Studies' books in an obviously failing effort at producing better Muslims or Pakistanis.

Nature abhors a vacuum and gaps are soon filled by matter ... but nature passes no judgement on the quality of the matter that fills the vacuum. Precious stones and bullshit are equally welcome as long as the volume is the same. So, in jump books from that misleading fraud, the phenomenon known as Harun Yahya. After all, they are beautifully published. The quality of the photographs is at par with the kind one sees in NatGeo (some may even have been licensed from that publication). The text is simple (even when it contains distortion or misrepresentation of facts).

The books have in-built protection: The subject is clothed in the magical world of 'beliefs', even the most stupid of which are difficult to challenge today - unless, of course, the view is that of a minority - for fear of offending some highly inflammable weirdo. (Even HY's own belief system does not escape distortion, intelligently 'covered' - at least for legal purposes - by innuendo and the kind of psychological weaknesses that all marketing exploits.) And - a boon in this age of multimedia - there are even videos (again, of very high quality) available that can supplement the text.

Teachers: Just switch them on. Switch yourselves off. Relax. No great damage will be done to the students, who, once the lights go off for 'projection', will either fall asleep or indulge in other productive activities.

So who can resist introducing these gorgeous books into schools? Or who can, at the very least, delete non-factual passages? Better still, who can encourage the students to debate them ... for 'censorship' isn't the best of ideas in a learning environment? Well, I don't know about who can, but I know who should: An 'educated' Principal or Teacher. Recently I said this to a school-owner and she said those are difficult to find. Hmmmm ... I have suggested that (since she is aware of this poor state of affairs and is, to the best of my knowledge, a decent and honest human) her school should carry a warning banner (like cigarette packets do): Beware - Teaching in this school is often done by people who don't know their subject.

Harun Yahya fans may be angered by my putting down someone so respected among people who, when confronted with specifics, have a question that always drives me up the wall: "Aap itnay deep mayñ kyooñ jaa rahay haeñ?"

For those who may not be aware of HY's "mistakes" (if one is feeling charitable) or "intentional fraudulent manipulation" (if one is willing to call a spade a spade - for it is unlikly that an author, with a veritable fundo-funded publishing industry behind him, would not have researched matters better), here's a link that should clarify why I feel so strongly against the use of these books in schools, especially the purchase of his Atlas of Creation.

A more recent and frightening phenomena is the showing of his videos as in-flight entertainment. This, too, must stop ... unless, in the interest of fairness, the films are followed immediately by this video.

Any ideas?

India 3: An uncanny tale ... (Part 1 — The Rather Long Preamble)

Rewind to late-1944 to 1945 (give or take 6 months ... for I am just guessing). The Second World War is in full swing. My father, a doctor, has had to enroll in the Army. The three of us - Abi, Ummi, and I - are constantly on the move from camp to camp.

Abi's short postings take us into cantonments from Jhansi to Campbellpur - places now in two different countries but made famous by their queens - and several others towns I can only vaguely recall. For some details, however, my memory is almost photographic: I can recall every face at our table - even the orange floral pattern on the sari Ummi was wearing - when the cook, Salamat, came running in to warn us that Sultana Daku was about to attack. Of course, like most things associated with Salamat, it turned out to be a figment of his opium-inspired imagination. I guess why I haven't forgotten the incident is because I have been forever chided for asking "Will he sign my autograph book?"

I am 4+ years old and always the only child at all of these places, as far as I can recall. (Wish I had asked my parents why that was so ... for it does seem odd to me now.) This lack of peers makes me spend most of my time around the same things that the grown-ups around me enjoy: books, magazines, music, poetry ... and sitting with them, trying to make sense of their discussions.

Travelling with us everywhere, among Abi's uniforms, Ummi's saris & ghararaas, my favourite embroidered chikan kurtaas (and my own uniform) is my box of Meccanos #0/#1 and a small crate of Abi-Ummi's books. Apart from Ummi's stack of Ismat issues and Kohé Qaaf Kay Peechhay - a book of children's stories from which she read to me - I can recall 4 of them even 60+ years later: There is a Deevaané Ghalib, for which my mother has made a slipcase in papier-maché and decorated with dried leaves. On one large leaf is her attempt at a pen-sketch of Ghalib that she is very proud of, until one of Abi's colleagues assumes the sketch to be Jesus. (He thinks the book is an Urdu translation of the Bible and is being kept, like Qurãns, in a jüzdaan). The other books are Palgrave's Golden Treasury, Feroze-ul-Lughaat (Farsi), and a Platts' Dictionary that was gifted to Abi by someone at one of the camps. The latter 2 are still with me :-)

My lifelong habit of travelling heavy is obviously inherited from my parents, for there is also another 'essential' and much cared-for set of items that weigh a ton and go everywhere with us: A black trunk that contains an HMV wind-up gramophone and a small music 'collection' (78 RPM records), neatly stored in 2 metal boxes, painted dark green. Inscribed on them in white paint: WEST; EAST. The first holds some records by Caruso, Gigli, Chaliapain, McCormack, and Debussy's Claire De Lune by someone. Imagine how often I must have heard all these names to be familiar with them at that age! The second, a bigger box, is populated by our own classical music's demi-gods: Fayyaz Khan, Karim Khan, Bai Kesarbai, Omkarnath Thakur, Enayat Khan. It also has a thin balsa wood partition that keeps these giants segregated from mere mortals who sing "light pieces": K. L. Saigal*, Akhtari Bai, Kamla Jharia. There's even a Talat Mahmood (his very first: Sab Din Ayk Samaan Naheeñ Tha) - included, I suspect, more because of Abi's almost-paternal love for his younger cousin than for the song. (Ummi enjoyed the song, but it just wasn't on my father's musical hot-list ... although he got all teary-eyed and mushy whenever we played it!)

At one or two camps, where we stayed relatively longer, Abi made friends with a few people equally interested in English literature, Urdu shaaeri, and music. The well-known humourist, Dr. Shafiq-ur-Rahman, was my father's junior at one camp and was always a barrel of fun when he came over, with my mother and others teasing him about some new nurse or the other he would fall for on a fortnightly basis. (This, I narrate not as much from memory as from tales retold.) Shafiq chacha and my father had everyone rolling with laughter as they used crazy words, such as Posheedah Ghünchee for Chhipkalee). There were humourous verses, too, a few of which, including a ghazal with a funny qaafiah ("ch, ch" = "tsk, tsk" - by Abi) appear in Shafiq Chacha's book, Lahrayñ. This scanned image of three of its couplets is from Abi's bayaaz.

Three other people who stayed in touch over the years were Khan Chacha, Badshah Chacha, & Gupta Chacha. The first two came to Pakistan and our family ties continued beyond their deaths and those of my father and mother. Sadly, Badshah Chacha (whose eldest son laughingly claims to have been conceived at our house) died very early. Khan Chacha was around for quite a while and continued visiting Ummi and me regularly after my father passed away in 1963. Despite the fact that these two chachaas were part of my life as I grew up in Karachi - and were extremely affectionate and caring - it was "Gupta Cha", left behind in India, whom I inexplicably missed most.

Fast Forward: It's January 1946. The war has been over for months. We are in Delhi, where Abi has rented a space and set up a small clinic, which he hopes to expand. He has asked for a release from the Army and is waiting for it to arrive. Ummi is busy all day, putting together crockery and stationery, even embroidering a floral K on new bed-sheets and pillow-covers for the 2-bed 'overnight hospital' they hope to build in the small space behind the clinic some day.

Our flat above the clinic is small but frequently filled with poets and writers, because Abi is the Joint Secretary of Anjumané Taraqqiyé Urdu. (The other 'joint' being a young Jamiluddin Aali). I have vague memories of Ustaads like Jigar and Seemaab on one or two occasions and a clearer one - from what may have been the last week in that house - of a very young Habib Jalib, whom I remember because of his beautiful voice, long hair, and the super-shiny :-) white sharkskin shervaani.

We are just beginning to settle down but Abi is suddenly asked to report for another year and is shunted off to medical camps in Baghdad, Cairo, and Jerusalem. Keen on Biblical History - it is from him, again, that I get my passion for it - these postings thrill him as he visits hundreds of legendary sites. Take a look at a picture of Jesus's traditionally claimed birthplace from Abi's album.

Abi even visits Karachi during his to-ing and fro-ing and is impressed by what was then a lovely, friendly and exremely clean city. Here's a view that I also found in his album of Elphinstone Street (now Zebunnisaa Street, named - oddly, methinks - after the daughter that King Aurangzeb kept imprisoned for years***). Times change! The city has changed in every conceivable and inconceivable way, but I still love it, madly!

The air in our Dilli house is beginning to fill with the talk of Pakistan. My mother's cousin, Ziauddin Kirmani (ZDK) is constantly heard arguing for the Muslim League, while my father and a few of his politically active Congress-supporting friends argue for a united India.

Interesting factoid: ZDK edited and published, from Lucknow, a paper called Pakistan ... well before the name was coined for this country. Later, he also authored a biography of the Prophet, The Last Messenger with a Lasting Message - An Unconventional Study (recently re-published by his son, Tariq, and available at T2F). I'd strongly recommend it to those looking for a fresh approach, interesting references related to early Islamic history, and succinct biographical sketches of the Prophet's contemporaries ... but I must warn readers that certain sects have been upset about a couple of portrayals. The book is intriguingly dedicated "to those who seek the truth and are prepared to face it".

Soon, my father leaves for his new posting, packing Ummi and me off to to my maternal aunt in Calcutta, where her husband works for the Sea Customs. Also in Calcutta (now Kolkota) lives my paternal grandfather (of whom everyone I know is scared to death) ... more about him in some other post ... so it is a treat for all of us that my uncle is soon posted to Budge-Budge (now Baj-Baj), an oil pier 2o miles up the Hooghly. The distance from central Calcutta, though short, is mercifully not entirely conducive to my grandpa dropping in too frequently.

1947 arrives with bloodshed and riots in Calcutta, turning the Hooghly occasionally pink. My only playmate - Sattar, a family servant's child brought up by my aunt and just a bit older than I - spot a body or two floating up-river with the tide. We even have a rather gruesome encounter with a severed head, once.

My uncle, Asad Ali, and his close friend and neighbour, Shaukat Chacha, are employed in the Sea Customs because of their hockey prowess. They talk each day about how close "we" are to attaining Pakistan. My uncle and aunt are extremely fond of me. They have no child of their own and are like my second-set of parents. I even call them Ammi Jaan and Abbu Jaan, titles generally used to address one's own parents. In contrast to my parents, they are such fanatical Muslim Leaguers, they even alter my name. Not legally, of course, thank goodness. But in my books and notepads I am made to write Mohammad Zaheer Alam Kidvai Jinnahi! One of these books I still own: It is Vol. 2 of Hafeez Jallandhari's Shaahnaamaé Islam, which I used to once recite full throatedly to anyone who'd listen, thrilled at the descriptions of the bloody battles and the 'heroic' deeds of the early Muslims. Until I grew up ...

It's August 1947, now. Pakistan is a reality. Where we are is relatively safe but from conversations and the BBC news over the radio we hear that things are bad everywhere. Our family has to move out and head to Bombay from where we are to travel to Karachi, since Abbu Jan has 'opted' for West Pakistan. I suspect that the decision to not move to East Pakistan - so much closer to Calcutta and an obviously easier/safer move - was taken partly because my grandpa was migrating to Dhaka ;-) (Did I forget to tell you that my daada was also Abbu Jan's elder brother? Not too confusing a relationship, actually. Just a case of an uncle and a nephew, only 6 years apart, marrying 2 sisters!) 

Abi is to meet us in Bombay and take us 'home', to Delhi, while the others sail away to Karachi. I can hardly wait to get 'home'.

The long journey takes us through three train changes and a circuitous route which, for the life of me, I cannot recall. On the last leg of the journey we are told that, now, there are riots everywhere and trains are being stopped and attacked. People are being killed by one or the other party, depending upon your religion and theirs, casting aside the veneers of pretense about professed humaneness and love that followers on both sides boast incessantly about in less challenging times. I guess in order to not scare me and 2 other slightly older kids in the compartments the elders don't talk about any of this much. Or about anything. Their silence - specially that of Ummi and Ammi Jan, generally non-stop talkers :-) seems eveb scarier to Sattar and me.

At one station we have a surprise in store: A uniformed, beaming-as-always Gupta Cha bounds into the carriage and travels with us all the way to Bombay. At one point - when the train is stopped by a Hindu mob - he leans out of the window and announces that he and his large family travelling with him are Hindus and the only occupants of that compartment. Uniforms didn't get questioned, even then!

Allow me to digress, but this reminds me of a joke that became popular at the time of Ayub Khan's 1958 Martial Law. A man standing at the Indo-Pak border sees a horde of rabbits scurrying across to the Indian side from ours. He manages to stop and grab an old hobbling rabbit and asks him what they are running away from. Desperately trying to wiggle out of the man's grasp, the old rabbit says that the Pakistan Army has ordered the capture of all horses for its use. "But you're a rabbit", says the man. "Yeah. But ...", says the squirming rabbit, "have you ever tried to argue with a soldier?"

The other family in the compartment, obviously Muslim (one of the women has been reading a small Qurãn which is hidden away each time the train stops) looks worried. Gupta Cha walks up to the old man among them and says something, then summons a railway guard and takes a brass T-shaped key from him and locks the door from inside. Silent glances are exchanged. One of the women starts to weep. Ummi walks over and sits with her for the rest of the overnight journey.

We reach Bombay, safely. Or, at least half the train does. The second half has been de-linked in some ambush somewhere. I piece this together from hushed conversations. A lot of the luggage, too, is gone. Abbu Jan informs us that many compartments are chalk-marked 'MT'. I wonder for hours what 'MT' could mean, before realizing that he said 'empty'. My uncle and aunt lose nothing, though. All their stuff arrives safely, including their gramaphone and large record collection.

Ummi has just a small trunk of clothes that's been in the carriage with us. I tow an empty army-issue bistarband ("because it's Abi's!") and a small but heavy trunk with a couple of toys, a plate that I cherish to this day (it's segmentation seemed almost satirical years later in the wake of the 3-way partition, so it got dubbed among us cousins, who often fought to eat in it, the Partition Plate), a few small books, and the latest Khilona magazine. There are also 3 records (wrapped safely in a towel): a children's song by someone about a Dahi ba∂ay vaali, Omkarnath Ji's Kedam kee chhaya, and Caruso's La donna è mobile (all of which I loved listening to, every opportunity I got, to the bemusement of my elders).

Ummi and I are expecting to see all our stuff in Delhi, soon. I can't wait to get to our asli gramaphone, the one in our drawing room, with the huge golden horn ... and the strangely intriguing machine that Abi has inherited from his mother, one that plays music off amberol cylinders, of which we only have 4 (they are never touched, except when I plead really hard for listening to one of them). I am mesmerized as I hear and watch those cylinders that seem somehow more magical than the black records.

We meet Abi and find out that the house in Karolbagh has been looted and burnt. "My toys and the cylinders, too?", I ask, worried. But Ummi is now sobbing uncontrollably and no one is in the mood to answer my silly question. Soon, I cry, too, as Abi tells us more about the house. Although I am sure I did not really understand much, I do glean that our landlord, Rauf sahab, has been kidnapped and presumed killed. His wife - who was visiting someone else at that time - is missing.

Jump briefly to a scene ahead: 4 years later, we discover Mrs. Rauf in Karachi. Abi finds and recognizes her at a Police Station near Guru Mandir, where he is called "to sedate a mad woman". She had travelled across with other relations, we learn later from the people who come to 'claim' her back, and has gone raving mad over the years.)

Abi tells us he has spoken with senior persons in the congress party, specially Dr. Syed Mahmud (Nuzhat's maternal grandfather), a close friend and associate of Pandit Nehru.
Naana Jaan (as we called him) was much loved an admired by Abi, who had dedicated his book of essays and stories - Naee Paud - a few years earlier to him in remembrance of the student days at Aligarh when Nana Jan was a greatly admired activist.

Everyone has advised that we head out to Pakistan and return 'once the dust has settled'. (Vazira Zamindar's excellent book, The Long Partition, indicates that not only did many feel this way but some, in fact, did return to their old homelands**). I am stumped today, as I think back, at the naivete of all the Congress and Muslim League leaders, none of whom seemed to have had any inkling of the level of tragedy that this act of separation - still debated within our own country (and criticized, without even an attempt at understanding the reasons, in India) - would assume.

(To be continued ...)

* If you want a link from where you can download a wonderful audio file of Naushad's recollections of Saigal (well worth hearing), email me.

**POSTSCRIPT: Added 19th October 8:00 AM

I just came across some comments by a Mr. Ali Dada (Ref: Oct 18, 6.04PM) on the ATP site where this post has been included by its editors. While I have responded to his other bits at that site, I do wish to clarify one thing here because - judging by his conclusion - I did not, obviously, come across clearly enough on this one point: My reference to 'going back' was not only about people who crossed this way going back to India but something that took place in both countries after partition. (Mr. Dada obviously did not notice that I had said "return to their old homelands".) In fact the process was also ‘officially supported’ for a while on both sides of the border. Newspaper ads and other evidence, including some stats, for this are offered in Ms Zamindar’s book.

*** Another update (October 22nd) as a result of a comment by Gopi on ATP - and also pointed out in two emails.

First, Gopi: ... Such an interesting piece. Incidenally, the Zaibunnissa Street in Karachi is named after Zaib-un-Nissa Hamidullah, the firebrand editor of the Mirror who gave such a hard time to Ayub Khan in the last years of his presidentship. She was an Anglo-Indian (Bengali father and British mother) but married into a Punjabi family. Check out [this].

My response on AT: @Gopi - Thanks for the Zaibunnisa 'correction'. I know that was what was proposed and has been recorded by many. However, when some people raised an objection to naming it after her and said that her friends and family had 'pulled strings' to have this done, the authorities responded by pulling Priness Zaibunnisa out of their hat :-) ... but I guess your version, since it is now supported by Wikipedia, stands.

Ten years on!

When my company, Enabling Technologies,

(later owned and run by Jehan Ara)

developed and launched the internationally acclaimed

Interactive CD-ROM: Faiz - Aaj Kay Naam

the main members of the team were

Sabeen, Jehan, Nuzhat & myself.

Sabeen has also posted an earlier picture

of this foursome!

This was the same team that

had produced Pakistan's first-ever

Interactive CD-ROM for IBM Pakistan

(ironically developed on Macs)

on Pakistan's 50th Birthday.

For the same occasion

we had also developed another CD-ROM

50 Years of Art in Pakistan

(featuring 112 Artists, Sculptors, and Ceramists)

for ABN-AMRO Bank.

None of us are formally qualified
IT or Business specialists and have learnt everything
about both these fields on our own ...
so it's rather interesting to see how our lives
have revolved around Technology and Business.

Nuzhat is an Education Technology Consultant
and has facilitated the development of many
school IT programs and in-service training.

Jehan Ara is the President of P@SHA
(Pakistan Software Houses Association).

Sabeen is the President of the Karachi Chapter
of TIE (The Indus Entrepreneurs).

And I am a blogger!

:-)

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 ...

Haeraañ hooñ dil ko ro-ooñ ...

Taking time off from the back-breaking work I was engaged in (see previous post), I switched on the TV. Begum Nawazish Ali flashed (well, not quite) on the screen, extolling the qualities of her guest in her usual risqué manner. I am not a regular TV watcher and, so, have missed out on how the BNA Show has developed over the years. There didn't seem to be a change in format but I found that her tongue-in-cheekisms were nearer the bone now.

Not a problem.

The guest was Shehzad Roy - a young singer who has begun to devote his energies to Education.

Not a problem, at all. Until the young man decided to inform us of the sorry state of Urdu. He was shocked, he told us, to find that there was no Urdu word for 'kick', having decided that 'laat' and 'thokar' could not be used (though he offered no explanation why). He pleaded with language specialists to take note, add new words to the language, make sure it remains alive by keeping it progressive. And to produce a suitable word for 'kick'!

BNA mischievously added that there was no Urdu word for 'cake', either, but SR took the bait seriously, going on to say that while we could call it 'meetha', that really was not 'precise'. Urdu so needed attention.

Dear Shehzad: I have before me 3 dictionaries open. Sangaji (1899) Platts (1930) and the more recent Shan-ul-Haq Haqqi tome from the Oxford University Press. And it is my mother tongue. Trust me - 'laat' and 'thokar' are alright, depending upon context. Football khayltay vaqt gaind ko laat maari jaatee hae aur raah chaltay huay theekree ko thokar say hataaya jaata hae.

(Oh ... and will the English Language world please find words for 'Barfi' and 'Gulaab Jaamun' while the Muqtadirah and the Text Book Boards work on our most important needs of the hour).

Surprise, Surprise. Or not.

Harsh Kapoor's SACW mailing this morning (subscribe to the list if you really wish to know what's happening in the region) included the following editorial from today's Daily Times - a popular Pakistani newspaper. [My comments follow.]

CARTOONS, THREATS AND JOURNALISM

Daily Aajkal, which is a sister publication of Daily Times in Urdu, is under attack from the clerical partisans of the Lal Masjid in Islamabad for its anti-extremism editorial policy in general and a cartoon in particular. The Lal Masjid mullahs say the cartoon is "insulting" and they say their "patience with the paper is running out" because of its "editorial policy". The cartoon published in Aajkal showed the leader of the partisans, Umme Hassaan, in a burka teaching her burka-clad students the radical political philosophy of the group. But since this could hardly be construed as insulting in any way- after all, the various statements of the group's philosophy are already public knowledge - the group has clutched at the argument that the cartoon "insulted those who taught the Quran", implying some sort of "Islamic" justification for their threats.

This is completely untrue and totally divorced from the purport of the cartoon. The cartoon was made and published within the tradition and practice of satire in the Pakistani press. It was aimed at political partisans, like all political cartoons against other partisans in the political parties and groups.

The umbrage has been taken owing to the heat produced by the political fallout of the operation against Lal Masjid. This is understandable and Aajkal is not too happy about offending any side involved in the controversy. But the cartoon itself was not intended to attack anyone; it was published in the spirit in which all political cartoons in Pakistan are accepted as the lighter side of our political life. There was nothing more and nothing less in the conceiving of the said cartoon. It was not directed at the faith that Aajkal itself upholds within the permitted variety of belief among Muslims. (Italics mine! Just curious as to where one gets these 'permits' ... Zakintosh)

A cartoon is the yardstick by which you measure the level of tolerance in any given society. When states are troubled, the first institution that is attacked is the institution of public criticism through satire. This is simply because satire is always considered less harmful and subversive than a detailed indictment of any person or institution. It is light-hearted and asks the victim to smile rather than take offence. In Pakistan, as everywhere else in the world, all public events, all happenings that touch the consciousness of the people, become the subject of a cartoon. The caricature tries to capture what the people at large think of a certain issue. This is the way it has developed in Pakistan in the last 60 years.

The fact is Lal Masjid involved itself in public affairs when it took in hand the task of "social cleansing" some years ago. The subliminal intent was to attract public attention and plead for approval because it was, according to its lights, doing moral correction where the state had failed. This was the beginning of the public image of the madrassa at Lal Masjid. Its leaders sought public limelight and asked to be judged at the court of public opinion, partly by vigilante action. The result was a mixed verdict. That was natural because any invitation to arbitration by public opinion will yield positive and negative opinion. This process also activated the journalistic device of the cartoon.

If you pick up the newspapers of the past few years, you will come across a lot of cartoons made on the events related to the activity of the Lal Masjid clerics and their pupils. The crux of these drawings was the same: to highlight an incongruity through humour and satire. Pakistan has now a well established tradition of cartoons. The politicians don't mind being portrayed in a funny manner, and even when they do, they keep quiet rather than hurl threats. Therefore the clerics in the public eye should also know that this is the process they have to go through. Neither the politician nor the cleric has suffered any lowering of his respect and honour because of the cartoons.

With the spread of the private TV channels, the business of cartoons has been revitalised. It has become dramatised with live characters mimicking well-known personalities including the ulema who, incidentally, also teach the Quran. The cartoon itself has become a "cartoon strip" and has supplemented and strengthened the tradition of cartooning in Pakistani journalism. The tragedy of Lal Masjid in 2007 happened right in front of the seeing eye of the cartoon. Where Lal Masjid received a lot sympathetic support, and the government had to face criticism, there were occasions when the opposite happened too.

There are always two sides to an issue, even a religious issue, and there will be partisans of this or that point of view. That is the essence of a free society and democracy. Even the issue of suicide-bombing has two opposed ways of looking at it. The division is there even among the ulema. Over fifty ulema in 2005 issued a collective fatwa saying suicide-bombing was against Islam. It was their right to say so, but it was wrong on the part of some other ulema to threaten them to cow them into silence. They would have been within their rights had they issued a counter-fatwa saying suicide-bombing was right.

Threatening a newspaper into silence indicates the level of intolerance that will do no one any good in the long run. The mission of moral correction taken up by the Lal Masjid partisans will be successful only if it is accepted by the people without coming under duress. Indeed, any order imposed through intimidation and threat of violence is not durable and will be rejected by the people in the long run. Therefore Lal Masjid should become the symbol of struggle against the use of violence; and it should not give the impression that it can use violence to achieve its ends.

Many of you may recall the heavily choreographed and manipulated protests, nation-wide, when the provocatively irresposible Danish cartoons first surfaced. That the major portions of rallies were, initially, quite obviously 'staged' until they pulled others into their fold as the frenzy caught on, is a widely accepted fact. Still unsure of this line of reasoning? Think, for a moment:

(a) Where would thousands of unconnected people suddenly appear from out of all nooks and crannies of our small towns, waving identical Danish flags? Maybe I am wrong and most Pakistani homes usually keep all the world's national flags as part of our standard household inventory, ready to be whipped out (and burnt! Who pays for that and the required 're-stocking', I often wonder...) at the drop of an ink-spot. We have, over the years, seen Indian, US, Israeli, British, Bangladeshi, Russian, UN, and other flags suddenly unfurl in hundreds. Hmmmm. (Of course, there are also reliable reports of a leading foreign journalist, at least on one occasion, passing out flags for burning, in order to get a good video clip for her channel!)

(b) When the Government, the 'agencies', and the Islamist parties - at the behest of their common paymasters - thought that it was an inopportune time for a 'repeat performance', the Geert Wilders movie, Fitna, came and went almost unnoticed. Maybe we ran out of combustibles, but no flags, tyres, or effigies blotted our streets.

Given that some irresponsible sections of our popular press, in an effort to play to the gallery and increase sales, supported the unruly and misdirected hooha in the cartoon cases, isn't what's happening to Aajkal (the paper with, incidentally, the best layout in our vernacular press world) just a case of chickens coming home to roost, albeit in the wrong coop?

Regardless of how we got to this spot in our sad history, if this direction is not actively reversed NOW (and I have little hope that it will be) we will keep heading further and further into an abyss from which there is no return.

The recent disgusting and offensive hero-ization of the Lal Masjid miscreants, including the burqa clad woman (and man) who bear much of the responsibility, is the worst ammunition that has recently been appropriated for a political battle in which all sides will lose, if Pakistan loses The electronic media's support of this idiocy, through completely distorted 'revisits' to the Lal Masjid incident, is a classic case of 'apnay paeroñ par külhaa∂ee...'

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.

Yak Jaan Do Qaalib?

Occasionally - though not too frequently - I ignore the fact that my name has been mis-spelt on invitations (even though, as in this case, the hosts have an almost quarter century long association with me and should know my correct name by now). So that is not my gripe with this card. It is with the confusion that it creates.

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!

Khoda pahaa∂ - Nikla chooha

... aur voh bhee mara hua!

Fitna turned out to be what we once used to call a 'chüzzzz' ... a kind of anti-climax.

To be fair, it really did make me angry. How dare Wilders call this tired product a film? Put together and presented PowerPoint style, Fitna is merely the stringing together of a bunch of videos easily available all over the net, some other pre-existing footage from archives, newspaper shots, and some stills. Background music comes from Tchaikovsky and Grieg who would have been as angered at this association as is the Danish cartoonist (though the latter is upset - in a twist of decency - about 'copyrights'). Suprimposed over an image of the Qurãn there are some comments/subtitles, but no original footage, no interviews, no revelations, nothing! Director Scarlet Pimpernel, too, offers little I would call 'Direction'. The credit - if any - must go to the Editor.

Both Jehan Ara and I (we watched the film together) were bored and upset at the time wasted. She, fortunately, was able to go back to reading and answering her eMail around 6 minutes into the movie. I had to force myself to see the whole thing because someone from France was going to call and get my views for a Web site to which some of us bloggers from Pakistan contribute occasionally. (I know of Teeth Maestro - who has blogged about this movie, too - and Jamash, but there may be others from here).

The short [non]film says nothing that hasn't been said before. Admittedly there are some horrifying and gory scenes that violence-voyeurs may have missed. "Yes," I told my French caller, later, "it will lead to protests, some violent, others not. And it could further put anyone who even faintly represents the West* at risk in some troubled parts of the world." ... After all, chootia provocations will draw chootia responses.

* ("Don't they all look so-o-o alike? How can one tell?" - a Chinese shipmate had once asked me when I had pointed out the the 'Englishman' he was talking to was, in fact, a Yugoslav and understood no English!)

Even the peaceful among Muslims who are angered by this film - and there is reason enough for many to be angered by the intent if not the content - could respond by putting up links to videos related to Jesus Camp - now there's a frightening scenario to match our choice madrassahs. But what would such mud-slinging achieve, other than further dividing people from each other? Some globalization!

Wilders is not the first politician to choose his path to fame by fanning the flames of hatred, although that role is far better served by the many priests of all religions. It is served most effectively, of course, when the role of politician and priest are combined in one person (as we see frequently in our own country and elsewhere). (Fortunately Wilders will not be accessing my blog or he could get an idea from this and join a Holy Order).

My verdict: I am inclined to agree with the friend quoted at the end of Ali Eteraz's post. (For those unfamiliar with AE's writings, a good place to start would be his Muslamism piece.)

-------

An hour later: Have just seen that a German Web site has placed a WARNING screen before the actual video. I can't translate the rest of paragraph but the large warning in red and black says: ACHTÜNG! Have requested the webmaster to change that to ACHTHÜ!

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:

Why Did the Chicken Cross the Road? (Slightly Spiced for the Local Palate)

Pervez Musharraf - Egged on by NGOs, I bet! [Cluck, cluck.]

Fakhar Imam - Musharraf probably meant "[Qalaq, Qalaq]"

Chaudhry Qazaa-e-Elahi - Jaae kaheeñ ... aana to üsay yañhee hae!

Maulana Fazl-ur-Rahman - The other side must've paid more.

Nawaz Sharif - Oye Shabaaaz - Chhaytee kar. Kukkad pakad, tikka banwaa ...

Peerané Peer - Vaqt aanay par sab vaazeh ho jaaega!

Qazi Husain Ahmad - There is no compulsion and she is not answerable to us. As long as she wore the Hijab when crossing, it is entirely her choice.

Imran Khan - [Sigh] Chicks do that.

Jaahil Online Team - Qaza-o-Raza kay masaael mayñ ülajhna hee baykaar hae.

Asif Zardari - Never mind why! Did we get our 10% from the toll tax?

Kamila Shamsie - Dunno Why ... but do know How: The Bird Flu

Head of ISI ("Name withheld by request") - The chicken did not cross the road. This is a complete fabrication. We do not even have a chicken. Probably happened in a 'neighbouring country'...

Manmohan Singh - We have reason to believe it was a 'halaal' chicken, but we have not yet been allowed to have access to the other side of the road to confirm this.

Atta ur Rahman - It wasn't a road, it was a Highway. An eHighway that I built with my own bare hands. The current Government is helping chickens in all villages cross highways. Leghari sahab has been appointed to figure out what they will do once they get to the other side.

Nawabzaadah Nasrullah - What's a chicken?

Everyone's Daadaa Jaan - In my day, we didn't ask why the chicken crossed the road. Somebody told us that the chicken had crossed the road, and that was good enough.

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!

Waiting for Zola

For understandable reasons, every now and then in the course of our brief and tragedy-riddled national history, I am reminded of a piece of journalism that has been referred to, by many, as the greatest newspaper article, ever.

Written in defence of Alfred Dreyfus - falsely accused, tried, and convicted for crimes against the state in France (yes - neither we nor the USA hold a patent on this!) - its author was novelist Emile Zola, whom Anatole France called, “a moment in the conscience of man.”

Click on the image to read a webpage on the event
and here if you want to download a 15-page pdf
file of the annotated article itself.)

On January of 1998 France held a memorial on the centenary of J’Accuse, at which President Chirac said: Let us never forget the courage of a great writer who, taking every risk, putting his tranquility, his fame, even his life in peril, dared to pick up his pen and place his talent in the service of truth.

Zola's article, the stories that surrounded it, and his books - those available in English - were part of my partially enforced literary diet. I can still recall the aroma of the tattered special edition of Zola's J'accuse & Vérité that I was made to read, by my father, as part of a deal involving a strongly recommended trio of books. These were books he thought I, despite being a voracious and precocious reader, may not ever pick up of my own volition - though about one (Thoms Paine's The Rights of Man) I am sure he was wrong. I would have gotten to it sooner or later. The third was the massive Tilismé Hosh Ruba - an immense Urdu work of fantasy and fiction that I could not let go of once I started on it ... but would have probably avoided, at least at that age, without his egging me on. Thanks, Abi - for this and so much more!

ThE 'DEAL': We had come home after watching a re-run of the brilliant movie version of H. G. Wells's War of the Worlds (still worth watching ... and essential, in fact, to counter the disgust one is left with after seeing the recent remake) and Abi had finished his dramatacized re-telling - for the Nth time in my 17 years of life - of Orson Welles's famous radio broadcast, when I asked him for the key to his bookshelves. I was excited and wanted to read anything by Wells. And he said I'd have to read Zola first! Huh? I was suddenly and genuinely tearful (a state he could never bear to see) and he relented. But he made me promise that I'd read the three books soon. For the record, I read Zola immediately after reading The Time Machine the same week.

Is there anyone here who would be a Zola? There are many among the younger journalists - in print and on the electronic media - who have instilled hope in me that, yes, the time has come when, soon, someone will take up this challenge, albeit made much more difficult by the increased stakes.

This is not to say that we have not had courageous voices of dissent in the past, but I am looking for the one voice, the one piece of journalism that, a hundred years down the line, would be remembered with the same respect as Emile Zola and J'accuse.

===

By the way, this offer is unbeatable: All of Zola (in Hardcover) for $3.01!

===

Footnote: In 1958 Abi and I saw Jose Ferrer's portrayal of Dreyfus in a film that, though not extra-ordinary by any means, added to our combined admiration of this amazing actor.

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.

2007 and All That

As a child, one of the books in my father's library that was always a source of chuckles and guffaws was Sellar & Yeatman's 1066 and All That, now available again in it's 75th Anniversary Edition. The book spawned as many sequels and variations as did the title itself.

If you like humour, rush and buy it now! I lost the original (with most of my father's books) in a tragedy that I'd rather not dwell upon, so I am certainly waiting to get my hands on a copy soon. It will occupy pride of place on the shelf that houses the Richard Armour and Spike Milligan histories.

Our own history is too brief for such elaborate spoofs, although Ibné Insha's Urdu Ki Aakhri Kitaab does include a short and brilliant piece on Akbar and his Nau-Ratans (= Jewels) as his learned band of advisors was called) that parallel the government shenanigans of Ayub Khan and his advisors. Inspired, I suspect, by 1066 - an acknowlegded classic of the time - Ibné Insha's book, too, features classroom style questions at the end of the chapter[s]. My favourite question: Would you like to become well-educated and be a Nauratan or remain uneducated and become a King?

A word of caution: Someone has translated Insha Jee's masterpiece into English. Please. If you can read even basic Urdu, read the original - for a lot of the nuances have been lost in translation. Sarcasm and wit, like poetry, is the most difficult to tote across linguistic barriers without serious damage.

Unless I am mistaken, it was the Sellar & Yeatman book which stated that the rule of Henry the IV Part 1 was followed by that of Henry the IV Part 2 ... which is what, today, I was reminded of as President Musharraf Part 1 prepares to hand over charge to President Musharraf Part 2. It is important to note that in the case of the Henries, it was Shakespeare and not Schizophrenia that was the coas cause.

Being older than most of my blog readers (many among them are about one-third my age) I do realise that a lot of our national and political history is unknown to them because, for the same reason that they are unfamiliar with even those subjects they once scored A's in, it has been taught at school where the concentration is primarily on dates and stats. Sadly, even that is not laid out in any cohesive manner. To help with that, for starters, I have a chart that (seriously!) could help youngsters - many of whom are out protesting these days - understand at least those aspects. Maybe schools can even put it up in their classrooms.

If you find factual errors in the above (dates, names, parties)
please email me and I will put up the corrected version asap.

Clipped!

While in Lahore, I wanted to write a longish post for this blog. The internet was 'down' and the only PCs (aaargh!) I had acccess to did not have MarsEdit on them. So I thought I'd start using MS Word - an application that I used to be fairly familiar with until I banished the entire MS Office from my own Macs. I must clarify that I did so because my work no longer required any of its components and not - as some of you may think - in a fit of emotional rage (although I know that, deep down, having to use it for prolonged periods could have been a long-seething factor).

Obviously, when I'd had the Office Suite on my Mac, I'd configured my preferences the way it suited me best. The first thing to be thrown away after any installation of that bloatware over the years has been those annoying lil creatures that the designers (for want of a more suitable and printable word) at Microsoft think are 'cute' ... but on the computer I'd been allocated here, the damned Clippy, something I'd successfully erased from memory, popped up again and spoilt my mood. So the long post - one about a dear old friend and part-mentor, the late Asghar Gorakhpuri - will have to wait.

Oh ... for those of you who do need the Office Suite on your Macs (or are into Masochism), the new version promises to be really cool.

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 ...

In the bgng wz the Wrd?

A matter being debated yesterday (Yes. People are talking about other things, too!) at a T2F table, among a group of teachers, was the spiralling "horror" of the ways in which Internet Messaging and other Social Networking tools were corrupting the English Language, especially in countries where ESL teachers and schools were already struggling hard to impart the rules of good grammar and correct spelling. "The worst is SMS'ing ...", said one one, moaning that "... many students are now writing those crazy expressions like '2 u' for 'to you' in essays." --- "Gawwwd!", groaned another, "I am running out of red ink, circling 'dat' and 'woz' and 'bcz' and '4ever'. Laughter and snorts all around.

I joined in the conversation (not uninvited, I assure you) and pointed out that this unnecessary worry about "texting" - a new word, itself, that had one teacher politely trying to cover her wince by altering it into a patronizing smile - has been going on for years. I shared with them a printed copy of an ESN article from 2003, as one example.

Many others, too, have debunked this view over the years.

I take the stance that this is an evolution in spelling and, while it seems as horrifying to us - just as current spellings would to Chaucer, or the US variants do to people educated under British systems - it poses no threat to the actual purpose of language: Communication. In fact, it furthers it.

A piece in The Guardian that opens, with the line, "It's gr8 news for skools", goes on to say:

A study comparing the punctuation and spelling of 11- and 12-year-olds who use mobile phone text messaging with another group of non-texters conducting the same written tests found no significant differences between the two. Both groups made some grammatical and spelling errors, and "text-speak" abbreviations and symbols did not find their way into the written English of youngsters used to texting.

And even the conservative TimesOnline informs us that texting teenagers are proving 'more literate than ever before'.

Here's an English teacher who uses the text messaging phenomena to advantage in class, while maintaining her view of it as being a bad thing.

While critics of the cellphone revolution say the phenomenon is destroying English, in Mrs Dawson's class, texting is used as a tool for learning Shakespeare, reports the New Zealand Herald.

"In her junior classes, the lines taken from Macbeth are transcribed into text language by students, while in other classes, students compose poetry and messages on cellphones.

Her innovative use of texting in the classroom may soon spread, as Mrs Dawson has been asked to speak about her novel study unit, which includes composition of a text, at the New Zealand Write Conference in Palmerston North in September.

Using texting as a medium in class captured the students' interest and inspired them to do better work, she said. "

The counter argument, that literature would lose out if this trend were left to grow is only relevant if what is defined as literature is a narrow band. Even the unconventional punctuation, or the lack of capitalisation, in e. e.cummings's poems still upsets many. A teacher of my acquaintance in the USA was puzzled by the "warped logic" of including of a poem by e.e. cummings in a textbook, saying that it undermined his efforts at setting down writing rules in his class. I wonder what he would think of this, if it made its way into the syllabus.



Dunno about your reaction, but I would, of course(!), suggest that students be offered the book - provided it is suitable in terms of school policy on content - as 'suggested reading' . I'd then ask to submit 2- line reviews via text messages! Sure would beat that stupid precis writing that we went through ...

E-Learn recently featured an article on the 'Story-Centered Curriculum' by Roger Schank. It was particularly amusing to see the following comment (quoted verbatim from the website). I am sure it would result in a 'conniption' for some members of the ELT group I referred to in the beginning.

(Note: The identity of the commenting teacher has been removed in my blog).

From: xxx xxx
(email)
Teacher . xxx . pakistan(Multan)
The Story-Centered Curriculum
Date: 07/07/2007 03:51:45
i just wanna say tht i have gone through one of the story of your story centered curriculum bcz of ur visit to lahore recently(18th april). i have just read this article n i cd say for sure tht this really works cz as being a teacher i still cd recall all tit bit tht i hve learnt through tht simple story activity...it was fun learning!!!! i hope one day actual learning will occur which will last for long ....

I wonder if someone can tell me whether, now that real Urdu texting (not just the Romanized version) is here, what are some of the abbreviations being used.

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:

Aesay dastoor ko, sübhé bay-noor ko,
maeñ naheeñ jaanta, maeñ naheeñ maanta

(On Pakistan's constitution)

Majrooh:

Jalaa ke mish'alé jaañ, ham jünooñ sifaat chalay
Jo ghar ko aag lagaaey hamaaray saath chalay

and the lilting ghazal tüm say ziyaadah that is one of his most popular pieces.

Süroor:

Ham to shaaer haeñ, ham sach naheeñ boltay
(A brief nazm that is also part of his commercially released album).

Zaidi:
Maeñ raat aesay jazeeray mayñ tha jahaañ müjh ko
Har ayk talkh haqeeqat milee gümaañ ki tarah
(Along with Professor Shoor Alig's "Mayra Maahaul", this nazm tells it like it is!)

Vaheedah Naseem:
Abhee to aashiaanay jal rahay haeñ aatashé gül say
Sabaa yeh aag daaman tak teray laaee to kyaa ho ga?
(How many today recall her Ayub-defying political verses? or have even heard of her? The aatashé gül phrase is a reference to Ayub's election symbol - a Rose - and the fiery rampage his son, Gohar, created in Karachi to celebrate that dictraitor's victory ... an incident also captured inimitably by Faiz in two of his very moving pieces.)

and the two wonderful Mohsins:
[M] Bhopali:

Güzray thay isee tarah kabhee daar say khüd bhee
Daykhayñ yeh khayaal aap ko kab tak naheeñ aata

(A shayr he had addressed to Bhutto when, as Martial Law Administrator, ZAB had started arresting dissidents. Mohsin Bhai later dropped reciting this shayr, saying that the 'daar' reference made it painful after Bhutto was hanged.)

[M] Ehsan

Faqeehé Shahr nay kaaghaz ki kashtiaañ day kar
Samandaroñ ke safar par kiyaa ravaanah hamayñ

and, of course, Faraz, reciting his superb classic, Mohaasirah:

Meray ghaneem ne müjh ko payaam bhayja hae
(Uff. Who could listen to this amazing bit of poetry then, without wanting to be part of the heroic defiance it portrayed?)

Maybe I shoud digitize some of these and provide audio links to this post soon? Is there enough interest?

===

Oh ... here's the opening shayr of Shoor Sahab's nazm, in case some of you are unfamiliar with the works of that radical poet:
Payambar Ahraman-zaadoñ say larzaañ haeñ jahaañ maeñ hoon
Yahaañ Laat-o-Habal kaa'bay ke darbaañ haeñ jahaañ maeñ hooñ

PEACE!

Ab aur kyaa kahayñ?

kab tak yooñhee zülm saho gay? kab tak khaer manaao gay?
baahar bhee niklo gay yaa bas ghüt ghüt kar mar jaao gay?

zak

Karachi - Come back!

Neruda's line echoes in our minds



Irfan Sattar's poem about October 18th says it well.




We need to reclaim our city
Join our peaceful efforts!

When I am frustrated, I get MAD ...

From my collection, I mean. Especially one of the old copies from way back when MAD was not a magazine (it became one in 1956, my final year of school) but a good old 10¢ Comic Book. (See if you can find out what a US $ was worth in Pak Rupees then.)

MAD started at the time when that giant of delightful insanity, reponsible more than anyone else for the success of the comics industry - William M Gaines, Jr. - was in charge of Entertaining Comics, notorious for its crime and horror publications that angered many. It was believed (and especially by Gaines) that the Comics Code was aimed, underhandedly, at his publications.

Harvey Kurtzman and, later, Al Feldstein spearheaded MAD, which now boasts a 3-generation old continuing readership. Kurtzman, who - along with the underground artist, Robert Crumb - was one of my great idols, launched a lot of other very interesting and hilarious ventures after leaving MAD. These included the short-lived Help! magazine which, long before the creation of Monty Python, provided a platform for John Cleese and Terry Gilliam.

MAD had, by far, the most amazing cartoonists and illustraters of the time,among them Will Elder, Don Martin, Antonio Prohias, Dave Berg, Al Jafee, Sergio Aragonés, and Mort Drucker. If you are an illustrater or a comics fan, look them up! Primarily a drawing-based publication, MAD's writers, too, were brilliant and far ahead of anything that has existed in the USA since ... with the exception of National Lampoon & The Onion, both of which, I suspect, owe a lot to MAD.

The ultimate example of MAD writers' wit that I can give is that they managed to spoof Ogden Nash. No mean feat, as anyone who has read Nash will tell you. It's like trying to make a slapstick parody of Charlie Chaplin. I mean, what more can you do to the grandmasters of the genres?

Here - if you'll pardon the digression - are a few of examples for those who, unfortunately, missed out on Nash. His rhymes were not merely funny, they were exceedingly clever and contained side-splitting twists and modified spellings that were sure to make you roar. And his lines spoofed the very blank verse in which he wrote his poems in ways that I have rarely seen done elsewhere.

(Urdu readers: The two blank verse pieces - Billiaañ and Kharraatay -by Shafiqur Rahman are just as good, as is the two-liner on the Camel by S M Jafri. More about them, in another post, some day. I will be quoting them on the Humourous Urdu Verse evening at T2F, soon.)

Haañ ... to Nash ki baat ho rahee thee. From the stark simplicity of

A bit of talcum

Is always walcum

to the twisted complexity of

What would you do if you were up a dark alley with Caesar Borgia

And he was coming torgia...

and back, again, to the simplicity of 7 words, spread over 4 lines, in a poem titled

Breaking the Ice

Candy
Is dandy
But liquor
Is quicker

Nash was the king of mad versification ... and MAD spoofed him, in a poem with a wonderfully Ogdenian title:

A Poem That Doesn't Do Anything But Rhyme ... One Time!

Abraham Lincoln really backed himself into a corner for if you begin a speech with "Four score and seven years ago, our fathers brought forth upon this continent a new nation: conceived in liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal...",
What do you do for a sequal?

**********

Ok ... Ok ... so what has all this got to do with the my frustration at being locked indoors - as must be a zillion others trying desperately to get to where they need to be (home, workplace, emergency ward)? For those abroad and oblivious to why we are locked in, Ms Benazir Bhutto, has arrived and is now taking the [projected] 18-hour ride from the Airport to Bilawal House (usually a 30-minute route) - a ride that is fraught with dangers for her and the city. Even the president has acknowledged the danger by advising caution - after his initial request to delay her arrival was turned down.

So, as I said, umpteen lines ago, I often fight my frustrations with reading old issues of MAD. Today I went through loads of them to relish my favourite Harvey Kurtzman covers and came across one that I just had to modify! The original classic can be seen at Wikipedia's Kurtzman entry.

Here's mine (you can see a larger version if you click on it):

More T2F evenings

The hall was packed for 3 recent sessions at T2F: Ardeshir Cowasjee, Ayesha Siddiqa, and Javid Iqbal (Retired Chief Justice and the youngest son of Allama Iqbal), whose session was preceded by a documentary called Beyond Partition.

Ardeshir's session has been covered well (like most things) on Jehan Ara's blog. And his advice to young Pakistanis ("Leave. Or suffer.") made the Indian press - quoting the Daily Times (where it made the Karachi Edition, only!) - just hours after he uttered these words.

***

Ayesha Siddiqa & the Oxford University Press, as many of you know, had trouble launching her book (Military, Inc.) in Islamabad. While no 'ban' was placed upon it, pressure from the powers that be prevented them from organizing the event at almost every place they tried. The book, for days, was sold almost under the counter by stores that carried it, for fear of offending the unnameable. T2F was unofficially told by the co-organizers at the time of the event that that there were "no guarantees" that it would not get into trouble. Often, such threats - like virus hoaxes that flood our eMail boxes - are more in the minds of the people. But, as the saying goes: "Just because you are paranoid, it doesn't mean they are not out to get you!"

Ms. Siddiqa, while a good conversationalist, with a very pleasant personality, had very little to add to what her study has already revealed. She certainly did not venture into providing more revelations - though she did fill in some details. Her response to many questions was that the questioner read the book first. This was by no means a cheap way to promote her book (already OUP's biggest/fastest seller to date, not counting their reference books). People seemed to constantly ask questions about parts they thought (gathered through hearsay) were in the book - while, often, the view she had expounded in it was quite the opposite of what she was being lumped with.

The session was rather limp, I thought - and not because the author was. Members of the packed audience kept asking her how we ("we the people") could stop the army swindles, what could be done to send the army back to the barracks, and more such stuff, as if writing this book had now made her the Oracle of Delphi. There were a couple of amusing energetic exchanges (with the energy generated being more Heat than Light) when certain people insisted upon being heard and the moderator, Tammy Haq, thought they were being irrelevant or delivering speeches, rather than asking questions during the Q&A.

I believe a discussion of the rumours that she and OUP had been threatened or were about to be sued would have added some fun ... (Digression: Mushtaq Yusufi says, "Pakistan is unique in that most rumours about it are true.") ... But such topics were not broached, for obvious reasons. Ardeshir, among the audience (he's a frequent T2F visitor) had his usual cynical interjections, which I enjoyed. What did come across from the session was that the most popular military personality among civvies was General Dissatisfaction.

***

Beyond Partition turned out to be a good example of a well-made garden variety documentary. It offered a collage of scenes from old and new films interspersed with interviews of Directors, including Shyam Benegal and Sabiha Sumar. Though not ground-breaking in terms of either the format or presentation, it nonetheless held the audience's attention, specially that of the rather large young shanaakht-searching group present who were not familiar with many of the movies discussed or quoted. I'd say, it was certainly worth a viewing.

Shyam Benegal's assertion near the end of the documentary that there are 3 Indias - the Geographical, the Cultural, and the National - may be true (as it would be for most large countries) ... but to state that the last-mentioned category included Pakistan and Bangladesh was, IMHO, way out of line. I would have accepted - within certain parameters - his view if he had placed the two neighbouring chips of the old block together in the second category.

The trouble is the widely-held Indian belief that the 2-Nation Theory failed after BD separated - and I come across this among a variety of people in my trips to India as well as among some Pakistanis - always seems to assume that its failure means we really were one nation. Sure, the 2-Nation Theory has many detractors and some questionable aspects accordin to them, but the formation of BD could equally well have proved that we are 3 or --- with the passage of time and the further inevitable break up of large groups of people into smaller ones --- even more nations. (Anyway, I am no one to speak of these matters since I do not accept ideas of nationhood and identity in the way they are promulgated, anyway.)

The session that followed --- and lasted well after the formal one (moderated by Mujahid Barelvi) was over --- started with Justice Javid Iqbal (JI, from now on) explaining in his still-youthful (at 81!) and passionate manner how Pakistan's current flirtation with Islamic Fundamentalism is a far cry from the view of the Muslim Reformationists (Sir Syed Ahmad Khan and Dr. Allama Iqbal, to name two) who were the catalysts of the final ideas that led to Jinnah sahab's proposals. He also emphasised that the country came about because of Nehru's (and the Congress Party's) obstinacy and conspiracy, more than Jinnah's doings since Jinnah had been an apostle of Hindu-Muslim unity and would not have wanted to see India break up.

Much of what JI said, apart from the above - and the intermittent references to progressive Islam - was the stuff of books and the young members of the audience seemed less interested in it than they were in their own questions. Many were heavily critical of the people and ideas that earlier generations have held in official high esteem and never questioned. It seems that, despite our break-away from Hindu-dominated India, we have many more sacred cows here, which brings to mind Bhutto's classic quip when he trounced JI in the elections in their co-constituency in Lahore. "I have slaughtered the sacred calf", announced an exuberant ZAB.

Matters that he did not (or could not) tackle were those that questioned the vision - or the alleged lack of it - of the Founding Fathers and the inevitability of a feudal-run state when almost the entire leadership among the Muslims was beleaguered with Nawabzaadahs, Knights, Chaudharis, and Sardars. The very first comment that came from a young blogger attending the event stated that the 'leaders' had no 'connect' with the people they professed to lead and, like in Manto's famous Toba Tek Singh, many just became Pakistanis overnight in the interior of Punjab, without really knowing or understanding what Pakistan meant. Equally inevitable, it seemed to some, was the fundamentalist-leaning nature of a state created through a separation on the basis of communities that differed from each other primarily (if not solely) in religio-cultural practices. A secular Pakistan would most certainly have been a strange thing to carve out of a secular India. An activist wondered aloud whether the Hindu majority - had India been left undivided - could have really trounced or even ignored entirely a sizeable Muslim minority, given that the population of Muslims in India would have been 3 times its current figure with Pakistani and Bangladeshi populations added.

The most alarming remark that JI uttered was in response to the question that, though asked by one young person, echoed the thoughts of many: To what do we owe the mess that Pakistan is in? Without batting an eyelid, JI's odd - and totally ludicrous - retort was, "The young. Because they have strayed from the values and goals." C'mon, Sir. With apologies and reverence for your seniority, may I remind you that you have meted out Justice; You have been in a position that requires unemotional, cool, logical thinking before passing such sweeping judgements. Be willing to accept that your generation (and mine) passed little to the young in any form or shape worth keeping or being proud of. Corruption, nepotism, lawlessness, slavish boot-licking of foreign powers for personal gains, indecent politics, loot-maar, apathy, personal glorification, hypocrisy, hero-worship, martial-laws, horse-trading, continuing class wars, provincialism, the worst aspects of nationalism, sectarianism, ethnic and linguistic strife, destruction of institutions, and worse, is all they have seen while growing up. Fortunately for us (and them), there are a few people like Edhi still around (and like Akhtar Hameed Khan in the recent past) for them to understand that even one person can make things happen. This is what will keep their activism and spirits alive. These are the people whose biographies should replace those of trivial personalities in textbooks so that role models are established early.

If I see any hope, it is in the current set of 20-to-30-somethings who are sick and tired of all they have been short-changed by and who realise that setting this country right is not merely an abstract nationalist-crap-infested duty but a fight for survival for them. I have great faith in them ... and feel that the least we can do in supporting their last ditch efforts to set a new direction is to stop making it difficult, stop wrongly blaming them, and get out of their way. They have the energy, the will. They'll find a way. It's their world. Neither you nor I should have much say in it. Perhaps our role is one that the following couplet by my father explains best:

Ek hikaayat haeñ, keh iss raah say jaae nah koee,
Kyaa samajhtay ho keh kyaa haeñ meray qadmoñ ke nishaañ

Years ago I had met JI, That was soon after my CD-ROM, Faiz - Aaj Kay Naam, had been published and Hamdard U had suggested that I do one on the Allama. Though the project died with the dastardly assassination of Hakim Said, JI's recounting of the anecdotes of his father, the irreverent humour, and much else that we discussed had confirmed the fact for me that the Iqbal we knew through state propaganda was a much truncated and deformed version of the man - a strange case where the myth had actually made its hero a lesser being than he probably was.

I asked JI at his very enjoyable T2F session, in closing, how he felt about this distortion of his father's image. "Bardaasht karta hooñ aur gaaliyaañ bhi khaata hooñ" (I live with it and suffer verbal abuse for it), he said, laughing.

All in all, a wonderful evening. The debates that raged after he left will go on forever. But should the ghost of partition continue to haunt generation after generation? Do the young really want to inform their future with this past? I'd love their comments on this subject.

Zakhm kay bharnay talak naakhün nah ba∂h aaengay kyaa?

The tragedy, the confusion, the lies, the deceit, the unanswered questions ..... so much has been said everywhere about the Lal Masjid saga that it seems pointless to add anything. Except that there's this alternating mind-pounding and numbing that makes me want to blog about it.

Sorry, folks. This is just cathartic. So skip it.

Even in its wake, the major discussions - be they from the Rulers trying desperately to not let this mar their image any further, or the Opposition trying equally hard to make political capital out of what is a far bigger matter than their rumblings dare touch upon - detract from the fact that all this was merely a symptom of the much greater malaise we are suffering.

When the dust settles (if anyone will let it, for, after all, it does provide a 'smoke-screen'), the REAL questions will need to be asked: Has the majority tacitly chosen this path but is too ashamed to admit it, openly? Or does it really oppose this path but is merely afraid to say so? After all, for the (wise or otherwise) course to be set for the ship of this state we need to ascertain the destination. But, unteven before the dust settles, will not fresh waves of Lal Masjid supporters - and the various groups that preach hatred and violence for everyone they disagree with - not sprout all over the country with renewed vigour, spouting greater cries of revenge?

There is, I notice, a strange co-existence and accomodation of both views - the liberal/secular and the fundamentalist - in many more minds than is openly admitted. And it shows itself in the ridiculous embracing of an odd neutrality that ails the bulk of the small educated society. Enlightened Moderation, too, is just a classy name for it. The bizarre demand for a peculiar kind of tolerance - to tolerate the intolerant - is yet another manifestation of the same thing. No on dares, anymore, to call a Spade a Spade. 'Political correctness', another US import we could do without, is one more nail in the coffin of decency: Let's face it, you are hardly worthy of respect if the 'correctness' you are indulging in is spurred by 'policy'.

The electronic media covered the event 24/7 ... Given the lack of training (or preparation for such an eventuality) and the mushrooming of channels that has made announcers and analysers of everyone and his sister-in-law, they did more than a fairly ok job. But, there too, Neutrality was the word of the day. Barring the performance of one specific channel on May 12 that gave the media some courage for a while, "Let's not annoy anyone, lest the side that turns out to be the eventual winner screws us over" is what seemed to be going through the media's minds (and the minds of the 'experts' and 'analysts') during this episode.

One example - but it typifies much that I witnessed.

Maulana As'ad, who represents the organization which looks after the various madaaris (Aside: Given the way some of these people behave, I often wonder if this word is the plural of madressah or of madaari), sounded schizophrenic on a Talk Show when he stated that "Rashid Ghazi Shaheed" acted wrongly by taking the law into his own hands, that Malana As'ad's organization and many other ulema were opposing Ghazi's stand because, although his demands for enforcement of Shariah were justified, such unilateral actions were not Islamic.

Wow!!! So why the eff, in the same breath, was Ghazi being referred to as Shaheeed by him, then? Surely one cannot be a martyr by dying while trying to kill others in a Jihad that is not a Jihad.

At one point in the show, I called in (a first for me, but I could not take it much longer!) after 4 panelists and the compere began sounding perplexed about whether the buildings really had 75 rooms and basements, whether there really were hundreds of women trapped (dead?) in there. The host asked Maulan As'ad, who said that since it was a female institution, he had never inspected the premises and had no knowledge. Fair enuff.

"Ask Ummé Hassan," I advised them on the phone. "She's out - 'saved by the army', as the newsbytes proclaimed - and could certainly give us the exact number of rooms and the approximate number of students trapped until she was there." ..... Not too difficult to do, IMHO, I thought --- unless we are not supposed to know! - (Anyone for launching an Access to Information Movement here?) - The host repeated my question to the panel. No one answered in the microsecond before the host moved on, mumbling something inane like "She's in police custody, so we cannot ask her." Oops. Only minutes earlier, the same channel had announced that madam had been 'released on parole' and was on her way to take part in her illustrious brother-in-law's funeral.

Double Wow!!! In a culture where I have witnessed arguments over whether a wife can see the body of her deceased husband: "They are no longer mahram", a recently-bearded uncle had shouted at a relative's funeral. "Marriage is a contract that ends with death," he had said in support, adding "and wives are not even allowed to accompany their husband's bodies to the graveyard." But, of course, this particular lady - indirectly, at the very least, responsible for many of the deaths in this sad saga - had to be flown, at state expense, to attend the funeral of a renegade in-law. Yes, the vote-bank has to remain intact.

I wondered, as I heard the news of her paroled trip, if all people in custody are allowed the facility of attending funerals of anyone they wish to. Or even the funerals of immediate family members. Hmmm...

A few words to our young electronic media and its talk-show guests:

"The hottest places in hell are reserved for those who in times of great moral crises maintain their neutrality." So said Dante Alighieri ... but I guess he was not in your Media & Journalism courses.

So, c'mon guys/gals. Speak your mind. We don't want mere reportage from you in the media, except during the news hour. On talk shows and other analytical programs we want your opinions. Radical. Right. Left. Anarchic. Religious. And, if you tread really carefully, even sacrilegous! We need to hear a variety of views and then make our own informed judgements.

There was other confusion, too.

While, traditionally, Shahaadat has been held in high esteem among Muslims, surely it wasn't always the only thing worth striving for, as it now seems. While the maulanas and their followers were proclaiming wilingness to die for their noble (though often contradictory) causes, the army, the ministers, the media and others were busy extolling the shahaadats of their personnel and personal favourites. Mothers recounted happily about how their child, now sadly gone, was always - from age 7(!) - wanting nothing else but to be a Ghazi or a Shaheed. What had she been mixing in his cereal, I wondered. A child wept at his uncle's sad death, citing - in an innocent way - the continued bleeding of the dead man's wound during the burial ceremony as proof of the fact that Shaheeds are alive and do not die. While there was obviously no occasion for correcting this misconception at that time - it could have been edited out by the channel. Instead, it went out to hundreds of thousands, strengthening their belief via a wrong childish assumption. The word, Shaheed - (a word that, btw, does not appear in the context of Martyrdom in the Qurãn) - seems to have become a mockery, now, with everyone killed in accidents, epidemics, natural disasters, genocides, language riots, plus collateral damage victims and those in the rather confusing situation of "dying before their time" (whatever one is to make of that!) swelling their ranks.

The conclusions I reached about our society, our nation, our community that day were/are scary. Escapism seemed the right thing to do ... at least for a while. For me, that means Music (generally Alfred Brendel's rendition of the Moonlight Sonata or Zia Mohiuddin Dagar's Yaman, played in the Dhrupad ang on the Rudra Veena). Or, sometimes, Urdu Poetry. If the latter, it needs to be the art-for-arts-sake kind: lilting old-time ghazals, with delightful plays on words, a romantic lyricism. You know ... the kind that good old ustaads, like Qamar Jalaalvi, used to thrill mushaerah audiences with. So, I slipped in the hour-long CD of Qamar (available at T2F as part of a double-volume, with Iram Lakhnavi on the other disc), hit the random-play button and closed my eyes ... only to open them with a start as I heard shayrs that seemed, suddenly, too apt.

Aap bhee suniyay...

A T2F Events recap (as promised/threatened)

Don't blame me. YOU asked for it!



The Second Floor began its Events run with the first of its Mixed Bag series, hosting Saad Haroon's "Open Mic Night", an amalgam of standup-comedy, music, reading, music, and more music. It brought in an energetic young crowd for the most part, mainly friends and fans of Saad and the others who were performing. That's certainly more than T2F can seat. There were 90+ people at one point --- more than double its café style seating capacity --- which made the event more intimate and fun, as concerts should be. Some sat on the floor, some on hastily added chairs pulled in from neighbouring b.i.t.s., while some remained standing. A fun evening, for young and old alike, it opened with Saad's own hilariouspiece, Welcome to Dubai. He really is a brilliant performer and has a great presence. Here's the opening verse that should ensure your requesting him to perform it the next time you catch him onstage.

The crowd enjoyed every bit of the evening that featured a whole lot of young artists: Hassan Fancy, Khizer Diwan & Saad Choudhry, Maaz, Ali Alam & Miqdad Mohammad (from names list provided by Saad). Here are brief snatches from Auntie Disco Project and Humaira & Kenan, my favourites from that evening.

And then there was Bina Shah. There were doubts in some minds whether (because of the otherwise heavily music-laden evening) people would enjoy listening to a piece of prose. But, wow! She brought the house down with an excellent piece on getting a US Visa, written specially for the event. Her funny-dramatic delivery - she's a natural - added to the pleasure. In fact, T2F immediately decided to book her for an event of her own.

Following this kind of evening, what was planned next - an Urdu poetry reading in the series In Their Own Voice - raised several questions. Who would come to this venue for such an event? Is Urdu poetry (and, specifically, our first guest Zeeshan Sahil's) popular in the areas from where T2F is more easily accessible? Would people travel from the remoter parts of Karachi to attend this, something those associated with T2F really wanted to encourage?

We were sure that we'd get 40, anyway ... so packing in close to 75 on the actual day was a really pleasant surprise, as was the rapid sale of Zeeshan's books at the signing session that followed. Surprisingly delightful, too, was the fact that more Urdu editions were sold than the bi-lingual one with Tehmina's Ahmad's translations. Many buyers commented that they were glad to see the Urdu books section at T2F's small but thoughtfully stocked bookshop, without having to go all the way to Urdu Bazaar. The Urdu pre-selections, mainly by writers Asif Farrukhi and Ajmal Kamal, have helped a lot, as have later suggestions from visitors.

What can one say of Zeeshan and his poetry? Both exude sensitivity, affection, warmth. His poem, Jahaaz, as one member of the audience said, "imbues a machine with human emotions in an age where humans are becoming more like machines." For those who missed out on the evening: Do get a copy of one of his many books on your next visit to T2F. You'll love it. My recommendation: Try Email Aur Doosree Nazmayñ or Karachi Aur Doosree Nazmayñ for starters. We cannot thank him enough to travel so far and sit through such a long evening, in his wheelchair-ridden condition. He closed with a poem called Taliban.

In a complete shift of mood and tempo once again, T2F hosted an evening of Tee-M (Tariq Mirza) on tour of his hometown all the way from the USA. Held - coincidentally - on his birthday, it was nostalgic fun for me and a joy to meet a couple of old friends who turned up and thoroughly enjoyed the music. I discovered, too, that Tariq was the younger brother of two very old friends/classmates of mine: Farhat & Shahid - the latter, sadly, no longer with us. Obviously, Tariq was so much younger - he was probably born when I had nearly left school - that I have no recollection of him from back then. This discovery, in turn, led to a further interesting twist for me: Shahid's son, Taymur - who runs an IB school in Karachi - has been interacting with me without either of us being aware of our 'connection'. Only the most common of all clichés comes to mind, so I won't repeat it.

While I enjoyed Tee-M's evening overall, for me the peak fun moment was seeing Tee-M's elder cousin, Naeem Mirza, join in for an informal and rendition of Jamaica Farewell.

Read only if you're past 60:

Naeem - an old schoolmate - used to be among the best voices of our younger days and I still recall him and Adlynne Afzal's duet of A- You're Adorable on a Radio Pakistan(!) Show, where another friend, Ifti, also sang Granada in his beautiful baritone the same evening. (Bet you, Naeem, that you'd forgotten this yourself!).

Those were the days of Western Music programmes on Radio Pakistan! Hit Parades in the afternoons. Music Requests at night, with 'dedications' that often led to disasters - as Dr Irfan Mirza would know if he reads this. Still ringing in my mind are the popular voices of announcers-cum-newsreaders, Edward Carapiett and Khadija Naqvi.

Wonder if we can get some of the old folks together at T2F: Louis D'Cruz - known for his Country & Western bits - and Austin Freitas for some Operatic arias. Can anyone recall others and help?

Tammy Haq of Business Plus was, obviously, bowled over by Tee-M's performance (which, by the way, is part of T2F's Visitor's Nights, an occasional event that will host interesting people dropping into Karachi). So, Tammy decided to hold a TV Special that was shot at T2F, soon after. Sabeen was interviewed on the program, too. While the evening was enjoyable, the 'shoot' certainly took away from the spontaneity of Tee-M's first performance and those who only caught the latter on TV have no idea what fun his first T2F night was like.

Bina Shah's session was held next and drew a good-sized audience. She read out a poignant tale about the evil practice of Kari from her latest book - Blessings - a collection of short stories. The reading had a couple of members of the audience in near-tears.

Following up on the story, someone has suggested a whole evening dedicated to discussing the Kari scourge, its origins, and what can be done to stop it. Is anyone interested in taking this up and organising it at T2F???

On request, Bina next read her recent US Visa piece and, once again, had the audience in stitches. There's a review on KMB of her evening by Jamash (whose lovely photo of Bina is worth a dekko).

Oh ... I plead guilty to the less-than-great sound quality that evening. Sorry Bina. The usuual music system is not wired for mics and live feed, and the lo-fi PA equipment - obviously designed for roadside weddings, as we learnt the hard way - was hastily borrowed from (wait for it... ) Kauser Tent House, whom people now mockingly refer to as Zak's Media Partners. Alas, it did not do too well :-( but, I am afraid, it was all that a poor NGO could be expected to afford and muster in a last minute rush. T2F's own PA system was delayed and arrived just a day later. That's life! A simple but more than adequate dedicated sound system - put together by an old friend and hi-fi service wiz, Mohd. Mamsa* - worked very well at Pervez's event! So, folks, the next time Bina reads, she'll sound even better!

Pervez Hoodbhoy's presentation at the first Science Ka Adda has already been covered in the previous post, so there's no need to go into it, except to note that it has led to some exciting debates currently raging at T2F.

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*Tracking Mamsa down on 92-320-509-4651 is a chore-&-a-half, but he certainly knows his onions (and Quads, Revoxes, Thorens and other esoteric equipment). So if you want to get that old turntable out of the dusty cupboard and revive it for the sudden resurrecton of vinyl we are witnessing, he's your man. Now THIS is what I call a PLUG!

Abro & Attiya

Abro is one of the most amazing people I've encountered. A prolific artist, photographer, illustrator, graphics designer, calligrapher, cartoonist, and comic strip author, he had held several exhibitions even before he joined the NCA, in Lahore. Many of you may be more familiar with his works that appear in the magazine section of DAWN on Sunday, where he often illustrates articles.

Most of Abro's works are strongly political and his intent has always been to get the message out, with little interest in commercial successes. He even prices his works far more affordably than other, lesser-known artists so that the messages can be seen in more spaces. In the Zia period and, again, under the present regime, Abro has developed a large collection of works, in a variety of art forms, that depict the army's rule and rulers. His sensitivity to the plight of women, his desire for regional peace, all come across strongly. His eye for vibrant colours is as apparent in his photos as in his paintings.

He is extremely quiet, in contrast to his laughing and talkative wife. Which may be another reason (apart from their politics) why they are a perfect match. The story of their marriage, as retold by Attiya, never fails to drive audiences to fits of laughter. We captured it on video at T2F and will share it with all of you via a DVD that contains all the readings from that unforgettable evening. The DVD will initially only be sold at the T2F, since we currently lack modalities for international distribution, but I will work on that, too.

Here's Abro's depiction of Karachi - May 12, 2007



What's next? He spoke of his plans to launch his calligraphic series of Ghalib soon and was quick to add: "Real calligraphy, not what the Zia era turned it into!"

Attiya & Abro

The rains, the roads, the warning messages running on the strips that now take up more space than the video on TV screens, all made it difficult for many people to reach T2F for the event. Several phoned to ask for postponement, but there were enough in the audience and it would have been ridiculous to send back those who came despite the conditions. So we struck a deal with Attiya Dawood, who promised us another session very soon. Within the next 3-4 weeks, in fact. (Which is how long Abro's excellent canvases that complement Attiya;s poems, will also be on exhibit. (More about him in my next post as soon as I return from the SOL/YLC in Lahore).

A session with Attiya is always a treat. For first-timers, it holds a bundle of surprises. An outspoken and very powerful feminist poet, in Sindhi and Urdu, she is also a great raconteur and, unlike her passionate, fiercely sad poems, her retelling of her life is full of wit and an honest humour that is hard to capture in a report to those not present ... although the rebelliousness comes through in everthing she writes, says and does. Suffice to say, if you missed this time, do make it the next.

The multifaceted Asif Farrukhi, writer of stories and poems in English and Urdu, has translated Attiya's Book, now sadly out of print --- (Good News: OUP will soon be releasing her autobiography. How soon? "As soon as it is released from Abro's clutches, " says Attiya.) --- Her recitations were occasionally followed by Asif reading from his wonderful translations.

Her personal favourite among her own poems is "To My Daughter" - which she recited in Urdu and Sindhi (at the request of Babar Ayaz). It is reproduced here, with Abro's painting that accompanied it in in the original publication. Click on the image to make it more readable. And here's Asif reading his own translation of the poem.}


Attiya's blood-curdling poem on the rape of a 2-year old child - "Baykaar Khilaunay" - is offered here in translation:

DISCARDED TOYS

Today in my courtyard
The setting sun is a spear’s distance away.
The earth, like my heart, is brandished metal.
Snatching the soother from my baby daughter’s lips,
Some monster has poured all the world’s horror into her life.

I had never waged battles against anybody:
Then why was the Karbala re-enacted for me?

The court is in session and the judge is
Listening to everybody’s statement.
A beast stands in the place marked for the accused,
I have cut my breasts and fed them to this beast.
All of you good souls who offer me sympathy,
Give me but a handful of words
So that my lips may utter a lullaby
To make this suckling infant wounded by the arrow of lust
Smile in her sleep once again.

When I kiss her as she lays asleep
She wakes up screaming.
What Hell has been unleashed on this innocent one
That even on her father’s chest,
In her mother’s arms,
She writhes like a chicken with its neck sliced?

Can the counterfeit coin of this country’s law
Ever buy for me a toy
Which I can use to appease
My little daughter
As she sleeps on the red-hot coals of pain?

O God of mine ...
When I will come to face you,
Holding my daughter’s discarded toys
And blood soaked underthings,
Tell me,
To balance the Scales of Justice
What will YOU put on the other side?

Is there anyone who is not struck numb by the power of her words?

Had it not been for the conversation that followed the readings, with Abro joining in and being his strong silent self except for a sentence or two that required industrial-strength coaxing (his view: "I speak only through my work."), we'd have gone back shaken to the core. Attiya's arrows hit home, everytime!

All of Attiya's writings, in Sindhi and Urdu, with English translations, are now on the Web.

Pervez Hoodbhoy, SuperStar

One problem of being associated with T2F is that I have been hesitant to blog about the events too frequently, lest it be seen as a 'plug' for Sabeen's café-plus-mind_share_space. but I guess it's ok as long as I stick to the event and make it anecdotal and talk less of the ambience. In fact, I think I'll try and recap some of the earlier events in my next few post[s], since there's an audience outside of Karachi that may enjoy hearing about them, too.

OK. So, this one's about the recent talk by Pervez Hoodbhoy, part of a monthly series to be hosted at T2F under the title Science ka Adda (SKA from now on on this blog). You can read more about the series at the site, so lemme move on.

The space, usually laid out café-style, seats 44 ... though events have always required creating more room by moving things around. Tee-M's 60's rock evening and Saad's OpenMic night shot the audience to around 100±. But that was to be expected. It's a 'Pop' world. However, Pervez Hoodbhoy's audience surpassed both evenings. While his youthful looks still draws sighs from young girls (I heard two that night!), the majority was there for the love of the subject.

You may wish to watch a small-sized QT-based slideshow featuring that evening's guests ... or prefer to click the image above to see the crowd, made up of young and old, artists, singers, dancers, architects, writers, conservative, rebellious, religious, atheists, fundos, freethinkers, doctors and students.

Wow!

Yes, Science can be fascinating, if the issues are seen in the context of our lives, away from the technical, jargon-filled research that most of us realize is essential but find incomprehensible. Like many who attended, I am certainly looking forward to hearing others - after PH's illuminating talk (From Quarks to Humans) on the Origins of the Universe and his 'attempts' to answer a range of questions. We need to have public discussions on Science and Ethics (questions of Stem-Cell research, Genetic Manipulation, Gender Manipulation, Euthanasia, GM Foods --- all are in the news these days) and a lot more.

BTW, when I said PH's attempts at answering questions, I was in no way implying that he was unable to do so for lack of knowledge. Some - on the more specific technical areas - required more time (and, a few were answered post-talk in small groups); others - such as those grounded purely on religious dogma - require an eternity and a more tolerant society.

For those who lingered on after the event for their own friendly discussions, over coffee and snacks, there was a special treat:

The fabulous Tina Sani decided to delight her self-confessed-fan Pervez and the rest with an impromptu rendition of Rabba Sachcheya - one of my favourites. The absence of any intrusive musical accompaniment made it all the more beautiful for me. I captured it on a small handheld recorder and sent the file to her last night, seeking permission to share it on my blog. This what she sent by SMS today: "Seriously? What Fun! It's Faiz ... Let it roll!"

Thanks, Tina.
Oh, and Sheema, since you are at these evenings often, don't forget to carry ghungroos in your purse the next time :-)

The forgotten ZAB

The initials, since Mr Bhutto's arrival on the scene in Pakistan, became his ... for his audience was far wider. But the ZAB to whom I am referring was Z A Bokhari, Radio Pakistan's first Director General. He was the younger brother of the more well-known and amazing Patras - a mixed blessing that earned ZAB the unenviable nickname (Ghalat Bokhari) among friends.

ZAB was an enigmatic person. A fascinating conversationalist, he was disliked by many for his blunt remarks that often balanced precariously on the wall between rudeness and witticism. I am amazed at not being able to find any photos or enough references to him on the internet to share with you. Being in Lahore at the moment, I am also not in possession of my own resources among which, I am sure, I would find a picture or two. I had requested his daughter (wife of Mr Hakim Ali Zardari), during a chance meeting in the early 90s, to help me with the compilation of his works. Sadly, I could not follow this up because of the turmoil in Karachi that followed and the project was shelved. Guess I need to find a link to her again ...

Apart from Bokhari sahab's barbed wit and brilliant conversation, his theatrical recitations, dramatic and powerful voice, and unmatched rendering of marsiaas, what really fascinated me about him was his superb poetry that, too, seems to have received far less attention than it deserved. Lost, also (since no trace of it seems to exist in Radio Pakistan, unless they just ignored my request for it), is the delightful rendering by some unknown singer of his ghazal with the matla':

güzree hae üsee tarah bahaar abkay baras bhee
ho gee nah bahaaroñ mayñ shümaar abkay baras bhee

What reminded me most of ZAB, recently, was a ghazal of his I which I often recite to friends. It is as hasbé haal as can be. Here is a shayr of his from another ghazal (recited at one of the Ghalib Centenary tarahee mushaeraas) that makes an apt preamble to the themes in the ghazal I shall treat you to:

shahr vaalo, maeñ payambar nah vali thaa, laykin,
maeñ nay jo küchh bhi kahaa ho kay rahaa mayray baad

So, without further ado, dear readers, here iz ZAB, in his own voice.
DON'T YOU JUST LOVE THE LAST SHAYR?

Vaah Jafri Sahab

Husain Haqqani's column, carried by The Nation starts off by saying:

Recent events indicate that General Pervez Musharraf has no intention of becoming the first ruler in Pakistani history to relinquish power without first trying to hold on to it by all means, fair or foul.

I am reminded of my favourite humourous poet Syed Mohammad Jafri's tazmeen of Ghalib:

Hazaaroñ kürsiaañ aesee keh har kürsee peh dam niklay
Jo inn par baeth kar khüd say üthay hoñ aesay kam niklay

Injemaad

If the younger readers are wondering whether the current situation in the country is of recent origin and it is only they who have to bear with this crap, let me assure them that this has been the state of affairs here since almost the beginning.

Poets, artist, writers - whose role was best defined by Kurt Vonnegut Jr. when he said:

" ... when a society is in great danger, [they are] likely to sound the alarms. I have the canary-bird-in-the-coal-mine theory of the arts. You know, coal miners used to take birds down into the mines with them to detect gas before men got sick. The artists certainly did that in the case of Vietnam. They chirped and keeled over. But it made no difference whatsoever. Nobody important cared. But I continue to think that artists — all artists — should be treasured as alarm systems."(Playboy Interview, 1973)

have been pointing out to our stasis - one that gets cured for just long enough to allow us to slide down further - for years.

Humourous poet Dilaavar Figaar had this to say:

Har baat ka javaab hae 'Haalaaté Haazrah!'
Sün sün kay loag haal say bayhaal ho gaey.
Haalaté Haazrah nah sahee müstaqil, magar,
Haalaté Haazrah ko kaee saal ho gaey!

On a much more serious note, Himayat Ali Shaer's lament in a ghazal from the 70s rings in my ears as I look at images like this:

Ab bataao jaae gee zindagee kahaañ, Yaaro
Barq kee haeñ phir nazrayñ sooé aashiaañ, Yaaro

Türbatoñ ki sham'ayñ haeñ aur gahri taareeki
Jaa rahay thay kis jaanib, aa gaey khaañ, Yaaro

Baagh hae keh maqtal hae, phool haeñ keh laashayñ haeñ
Shaakh shaakh hota hae daar ka gümaañ, Yaaro

Raahzan ke baaray mayñ aur kyaa kahayñ khül kar?
Meeré Kaaravaañ, Yaaro! Meeré Kaaravaañ,Yaaro!

The wait is over!

Do drop in ...



You never know whom you'll meet there ...



Stars & Bloggers ...



Bankers and Media Persons ...



Publishers and Authors ...



Famous Dads and Daughters ...



Educators and ...


... Anti-Schoolers!



There's food for the body ...



and the soul.



And a whole lot more to chat about!

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NOW OPENS MAY 15TH DUE TO THE TRAGIC EVENTS IN KARACHI

Photos: The b.i.t.s. Team

Nothing, really ... just venting!

Jaun Elia (also spelt as Jon and John), the enfant terrible of recent Urdu poetry, wrote:

Kaun iss ghar kee daykh bhaal karay

Roz ek cheez toot jaatee hae !

(Who can take care of this house?

Every day something breaks ...)

Whether he was speaking of his personal marital predicament or referring to aging, I am often reminded of this shayr when I read national news. If it's not Bugti, it's Bajaur. If it's not Karachi, it's a Khan.

If the whole country is fucked-up is the leadership to blame? If the whole leadership is fucked-up is the country to blame?

When I feel most frustrated and angry, I return to a poem by Kahlil Gibran that I'd like to share with you.

Oh, shit!

Cleaning up my clothes cupboard today I came across a plastic bag hidden away under some winter-clothing, presumably as the first step to it's 'disappearance', by my wife. She does these things. Checks out to see if I have not remembered some stuff for months (I am a terrible hoarder, I admit!) and, once satisfied, zaps it with a raygun or something since i never see it again. Generally this last act takes place about two days before the time that I absolutely need the stuff, of course, and sets the scene for a 60-second replay of WWII, but I quickly take solace in the fact that there are other things strewn all over that she hasn't quite got to. Yet.

A quick look in the bag revealed a rather faded and stained photocopied document gifted to me by an Indian friend (a scholarly gentleman who has been an Ambassador in several countries and a Vice Chancellor in a well-known university. Name and other details will be revealed, unless he agrees to cough up money in unmarked bills). It's an edition of Deevaané Chirkeen.

For those of you unaware of this great poet, he was a grand-master of the Hazal - a term now loosely applied to all humorous verse forms. Originally the Real McCoy was poetry with 'unprintable' content. Often explicit and sexual in nature - but always satirical - every major poet has tried his hand at it. Allama Iqbal included. In recent years the greatest of all poets in that tradition was Rafi Ahmad Khan, friend and contemporary of Josh Malihabadi who, himself, had several verses of this nature to his credit - but, for once, accepted someone else as his superior (at least in this niche field).

Being unprintable, such poetry is generally passed - with obvious difficulty - to the next generation (hardly the kind that fathers share with sons) via stages of 'in-betweeners'. Young uncles to eldest nephews is how it seems to usually flow. The problem is that most people today can't tell between a correct or incorrect shayr. A quick run through even the best of Urdu poetry websites will reveal tons of couplets/poems, wrongly attributed, misquoted, without any sense of metre, qaafiah or even radeef ... Vazan to khaer door ki baat hae! (For this situation to have been reached, our Education system must bear part responsibility --- but that calls for another post.) Even the Al-Hamra Calendar that contains a ghazal for each day of the year, brought out with much love, contains scores of mistakes. And this is when there are printed deevaans and recordings and videos available to check many of them against. But in the case of Chirkeen and Rafi Ahmad this is an obvious impossibility.

While sexual explicitness is slowly losing some of its taboos, Allama Chirkeen's speciality seems to still be unacceptable. A poet from Lucknow, he rarely, if ever, used sexual content in his verses. His great love was excreta! Legend has it that, in earlier days, he wrote beautiful 'regular' ghazals, but his bayaaz was stolen by some people who had some of the poems published under their names in Hyderabad and elsewhere. At one mushaaerah in the Deccan capital, unaware of this fraud, he recited a ghazal and was booed by some people who assumed he had stolen the ghazal from one of the books. In anger, he swore never to write a line of verse that any persons would steal and be willing to call their own ... and went on to write hundreds of shayrs, each one containing some scatological term.

I do recall seeing a reference or two to him on Chowk a while ago ... and a few 'giggly' references among some internet groups which did not really appreciate the technical perfection of his shaaeree, despite the constraint he had placed on himself. I also realize that many will turn their noses away from this post (although smells are not yet easily embedded into eDocs, since the only ones seemingly ready to pay for it are Japanese aromatherapy enhusiasts) ... but the fact is that all languages have a great tradition of such humour. Mark Twain, Rabelais, and many Victorian writers revelled in it just as much those in our region. The difference is that the West has printed a lot of these works but - a pity - that such works of our classics in this genre will get lost.

One note before I close. Please do not add hazals/shayrs in the comments section. If you really think you have a good example - and only from from either of the above poets, checked for authenticity - email me and we can set up a website to honour them.

Oh ... and in case you are wonderiing what got me thinking about such an oddball topic today, get a load of this serious shit!

Kuchh to kahiyay keh loag kahtay haeñ

Yooñ sajaaee kisee nay eed ki bazm

Dil yeh chaaha keh kaash ghar hotay

Lütf inn kaa dobaala ho jaata

Shayr mauzooñ bhee sab agar hotay

A Tale of Two Eeds

In Pakistan, Eed has almost always been plagued by controversies on the matter of when to celebrate it. But that's really a pessimistic view. Think of the joys connected with Moonsightings that would put UFO sightings to shame, Official and Unofficial Eeds, Ramzans that overstay their welcomes, enforced Eeds and enforced non-Eeds. I can think back to some examples from the days of that arch-Dictator, Ayub Khan, and cite references to them by misraas/shayrs from my favourite humourous poet of the time, Syed Mohammad Jafri (SMJ).

If memory serves me well, the President ordered Eed to be held all over the country after some of his province-mates claimed that the moon had been sighted, while the mullas of the province that detested him the most ruled that the method of sighting was unIslamic, insisting that the Ruet-e-Halal Committee (SMJ: Ae ruet-haraam kamaytee tujhay salaam) had to get evidence of a 'natural sighting' and the mehod of going up in helicopters to see the moon behind the clouds was unacceptable. Karachiites, for the most part, and many others scattered over the country, therefore fasted the next day (SMJ: Hua rukhsat nah jo maahé ramazaañ eed kay din) - while Ayubi mullas roared statements about the kufr of fasting on Eed.

(As an aside, some laughingly claim that this was the occasion when Maulana Ehteshamul Haque opposed Ayub and was locked up in a thaana, from which he emerged with the Thaanvi bit added to his name.)

Ayub forcibly decided to have the country observe Eed in accordance with the NWFP decision (SMJ: Khaalis pathaan chaand hua arzé paak par) that emanated from the committee's Peshawar office (SMJ: 'Peshah var' mullaaoñ nay ramzaañ ko dhakka day diya). Most mullas in Karachi refused to lead Eed prayers and the major (official) congregation had to have the Imam of the Karachi Jail forced into leading the Namaazé Eed (SMJ: Jail say maulvi bulvaaya pa∂haanay ko namaaz / Nah koee bandah rahaa aur nah koee bandah navaaz).

Worse was to come the next day, when the 'faithful' gathered with their imaams to offer prayers only to find that some mosque gates had been padlocked by the government supporters, forcing the crowd to say the prayers on the road. ( (SMJ: Talvaar kay zareeyay say manvaaya eed ko / Sharmindah kar kay rakh diya roohé Yazeed ko!)

All that was years ago. Later, the 'Eed split' took on completely a different meaning as we amalgamated Western customs (under misguided concept of upward mobility) and gave up some of our traditions for 'modernity': Sivaiñyaañ have given way to those disgusting butter-cream laden blobs known as Eed Cakes. (I often wonder if, on some Baqr-Eed we will receive hamburgers instead of the more traditional piece of raan.) The freshly 'bhoonoed' sauñf-ilaechee-naaryal concoction, with its tantalizing odor is a thing of the past; in it's place, satchets with drug-laced meethi supaari and candied aniseed jostle with toffees. Itr, of course, had long lost to Perfumes and Colognes - with names like Passion, Tonite, Sin, and the oddly named male deodorant Hard Luck trying to capture, through mere words, the purported aphrodiasical effects of Itr's heady and erotic aroma.

Eedee - still around, thankfully, in most homes - is also beginning to be replaced in a handful of homes with Eed Gifts. Aaargh. In one Islamabad house, in a well-meant tip-of-the-hat to their American bahu, the elders hung those gifts around with strings (their socks were too smelly, I guess) on a plastic replica of a Palm. The Tree, not a Punjah (in case you think they were making their alam do double duty).

Please. Don't sicken me further by saying "Awww ... Shweeet!" ...

My suggestion to the Lord and Master of the house was to go 'totus porcus' (a Wodehouse phrase that always makes me guffaw) and localize Father Christmas by having Abba Eeedoo appear, too. But he was not amused at the image I painted of his potbellied body coming down the chimney (they have one in his house!) dressed in a green dhoti, with a miswaak in one hand and a lota in the other.

Eed Mubaarak!

Almost full circle

Although Sabeen and I were there on business, the thrill of meeting our friends was always an overwhelming thought. And what a wonderful time we had. Four-and-a-half hectic days, working with some of the best people in Journalism, loads of Idli & Dossa at Sagar, great - and sensibly priced! - Espresso at Barista, interspersed with mad rushes through Mercury Records, FabIndia, PeopleTree, and - ooooh - those adorable and intoxicating little bookshops!

However, for me, this trip to Delhi had a very special meaning. [C'mon guys, change the name: You have Kolkata and Mumbai ... why not Dehli, at least, if not Dilli!] ... We landed there on the 4th of October, almost 60 years to the day when Ummi (my mother) and I had left to visit her sister in BudgeBudge - an oil-bunkering station near Calcutta for ships on the Hooghly River - where my uncle was posted by the Indian Customs. I was just 6 ... and totally unaware that we were leaving our house for the last time, to become an unintentional part of the frenzy that was the partition of India and the creation of Pakistan.

Before setting out for Dilli, this time, I had decided - very firmly - that I would formally begin writing my memoirs on that day ... even if it meant jotting just the first few lines. And, so, this is just to report that 'Ships and Shoes and Sealing Wax' has now DEFINITELY begun. One chapter will deal with a child's view of the 1947 chaos and may be of interest to more than just the immediate and extended family for whom these memoirs are being written.

To whet your appetite I just want to say that my family ended up here not of choice but by fate. Abi (my father) came in from the Middle East - where he was posted as a doctor in some medical Camp for recovering soldiers - and went to Dilli to see how things were and judge if Ummi and I could move back there, because my uncle had 'opted' for Pakistan and would soon be sailing out to Karachi. He found that the house in Dilli where we lived, and had hoped to continue living in, was burnt and razed to the ground during the insane riots that accompanied the Partition ... so, we left with my uncle for Pakistan (after a whole series of adventures and dangers between Calcutta and Bombay - but, for that, "Buy the book!") ... not without almost an assurance by Abi's Muslim friends and leaders in the Congress Party, including my wife Nuzhat's grandfather, Dr. Syed Mahmud, that the madness would soon settle, that the two countries and communities would forget and forgive - there were even rumours that Gandhiji was planning to move and live in Pakistan - and we could shift back 'home' in a few months. Haah!

My parents never did go back to the city they loved and had decided to make home - away from the qasbaat of Lucknow where they were originally from. Here is a poem Abi wrote. I did want to keep it in his own handwriting. It's been difficult to scan, but I hope it is, for the most part, readable. You may need to use the magnification tool in some browsers.

Qasmi Sahab

I heard of the passing away of Qasmi Sahab just as I was being wheeled into the surgery for my hernia operation. Sad though the news was, I couldn't help feel glad that a doctor and an anesthetist were talking about a literary figure. Gave me some kind of hope about our society (and confidence in those about to cut me up).

Checking mail and blogs is the first thing you do after surgery (it's therapeutic and great for recuperation). So I read Sabizak's post as soon as I got home. Not as much of a fan of Qasmi Sahab as many of my friends were, I do agree that with his death another of Urdu's greats has gone. I was fortunate enough to have met and heard him recite on many occasions and remember several of his better ash'aar.

The ghazal that Sabahat has quoted brings to mind the time that a federal minister, attending a concert in Islamabad, sent in a request for Mehdi Hasan to sing that piece at the event. The legendary singer could not help but break into a guffaw, in the middle of whatever he was singing, when the minister's card with the request reached him. Later, he shared the joke with some of his friends. This is the shayr as quoted in the note:

Tu kahaañ jaae gee, küchh apna thikaanah kar lay;
Maeñ to darya hooñ, samandar mayñ ütar jaaooñ ga!