Friday 25 February 2011

Hum dekhain gay ...


 
As someone who read up on 20th century revolutionaries quite a bit – although my readings were for mainly non-revolutionary reasons – I used to cringe every time I spotted a finance undergraduate or an aspiring MBA candidate in a Che Guevara T-shirt at my college campus in England. The irony of it almost never failed to hit me. Most of these kids were middle-class (in the British sense) or upper-class (in the Third World sense) whom Che would have shot without blinking his revolutionary eyes. But as we have all been forced to concede, Che is popular today not for his philosophy or political practice but for his face, i.e. as the quintessential postmodern icon, which means (relatively) different things to (relatively) different people.

In Pakistan too, after the Lawyers’ Movement of 2007, a new generation of urban youth has become enamored with the idea of revolutionary change. For them the closest thing to a homegrown, feelgood, postmodern iconoclast is the Urdu poet Faiz Ahmed Faiz. The man and his poetry have become one big symbol of the underdog, the idealist, as well as the man or woman who is willing to suffer for a cause.

On the occasion of Faiz’s 100th birthday, many events were organized across the country to celebrate and commemorate his life and work. I was quite pleasantly surprised to see so many young people turning up at different venues to celebrate someone who consistently supported causes that were dangerous then and are passé now, and who wrote in a language that is no longer considered fashionable.

But my delight experienced an early demise after a series of unfortunate events that have led me to believe that Faiz is celebrated – just like Che – as a symbol rather than for what he actually believed or practiced. I have by now met too many wannabe revolutionaries who print out Faiz’s avant-garde anthem ‘Hum dekhain gay’ in the Roman alphabet and call themselves Faiz aficionados. Reading Faiz, or for that matter any great Urdu poet, in the Roman script alone is a sacrilege, but for such people to claim to be an authority on his very vast repertoire of outstanding work, when they have only a chorus in mind, is both hilarious and infuriating.

I recently met one such specimen of a Faiz fan at a Faiz fest (fittingly, if you’ll forgive all the effing). The interaction, though it was mercifully brief, convinced me that Pakistanis can trivialize just about anything. What follows is an excerpt from our conversation.

Boy: Isn’t Faiz awesome?

Me: I believe he is.

The Boy: Isn’t his revolutionary work great.

Me: I am not sure what you mean by revolutionary work but I assume you are referring to his poetry against tyranny.

Boy: Yeah. So what do you think about his work.

Me: I have not read a lot of Urdu poetry and cannot compare his work with others but I truly admire Faiz’s ability to relate his internal, subjective world to the larger world and the fact that his empathy for people transcended geographical boundaries…

The Boy: That’s cool. He wrote for people from other parts of the world?

Me: Yeah, he wrote for the Palestinians and the colonized Africans and he showed compassion for Bangladeshi people when no one dared to do so. Haven’t you read Aye Arz-e-Falasteen?

The Boy: I can’t read Urdu. My family recently moved back from England.

Me: How have you read Faiz if you can’t read Urdu?

Boy: Oh I haven’t read him. I only know the revolutionary bits like “Bol ke lub azad hain teray” and “Hum dekhain gay.” You know we sang them during the long march and all! They are freakin’ awesome.

Me: Errr… but you do realize that Faiz is a lot more than those two “revolutionary bits” as you have called them…?

Boy: Yeah but those are the ones that matter

That boy is not alone. During my stint as a teacher of undergraduates, I came across many students who were filled with a similar zeal and wanted to change the world through Faiz’s poetry. It’s quite interesting that for such Pakistani students Faiz is the only symbol of liberation from oppression and exploitation. They are not familiar with other poets of the time, such as Josh Malihabadi, Noon Meem Rashid or Habib Jalib, to name a few. In fact, during my class on popular social movements, Jalib was referred to as the “dude who wrote songs for the Band Laal.” Jalib must have been somersaulting in his grave after that.

Most young people who claim to be impressed by Faiz’s poetry are familiar only with his famous poems; and they don’t even understand those. During one of our discussions, I asked my students about their views on Faiz’s employment of the Arabic term Ana-al-haq (or ‘I am the Truth’), attributed to the martyred Sufi Mansur Hallaj. I was looking for a response about the political struggle, about how Faiz may have tried to relate it to the personal quest for self-actuation. But it drew a blank from all my students except one. When I pointed out that Ana-al-haq has been used in one of the most popular anthems of our times – none other than their “favourite” Faiz poem, that’s right, you got it, the one that goes ‘Hum dekhain gay’ – I was bombarded with excuses that ranged from “Urdu is very difficult to understand” to “the poetry was against people like Musharraf and Zardari and not about religion.”

The sad reality of our times is that Faiz - the revolutionary is expropriated by everyone and anyone who thinks Faiz’s words can serve their purpose, especially by people against whom most revolutions are targeted. From right wing politicians to rich kids who are sent to liberal arts colleges abroad on money their parents made by running sweat shops, Faiz is the poet everyone loves to recite to lend credence to their rhetoric. In 21st century revolution loving Pakistan, Faiz’s popularity among a certain section of society represents ignorant kitsch which should not be taken seriously. During a recent protest, some of such Faiz lovers who espouse revolutionary ideas expressed displeasure at marching with trade union activists because they did not smell good.
Reciting Faiz in a party or to quote him in a blog or to join a facebook page can never replace real activism. Real activism means de classing yourself and to give gut and blood to the ideology we believe in. In this day and age when “idiology” has replaced “ideology” how many of us can remain true to what we believe in and are willing to walk in Faiz Ahmed Faiz’s formidable shoes.

A slightly edited version of this post has been published in The Friday Times

 

Thursday 10 February 2011

From the French Beach to the foothills of Margalla

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When I first went to college abroad, I was quite often asked if I find it difficult to get adjusted coming from a vastly different background and how “shocking” was the culture shock. Honestly, I never really had any trouble in getting adjusted to life in North West England. I was young, was acquainted with British sense of humour through television, knew the language, made friends very easily and was very keen to learn the slang so that I too can converse in local speak. Slipping into the life of a student was quite easy, especially when everyone else was as unfamiliar with the place as I was. No shock was shocking enough to merit anything more than a raised eye brow. 

After having recently relocated to Islamabad from Karachi, where I have spent most of my life, I am reminded of all those conversations about culture shocks and differences. Islamabad is neat, has a clean crisp air and a relaxed atmosphere bordering on lethargic. Karachi is chaotic with its salty sultry air and boasts of people that are always on the go. Although I just moved cities in the same country, I am more astounded by the differences now than I was back in my college days. 

Before I moved up north, I have been told by all and sundry about the laid back culture of Islamabad but you gotta be part of it to actually know how it works – or not. For instance gentle, reminders like emails are generally ignored, if you want to get things rolling, telephone calls, physical presence or best of all a telephone call from people who ‘matter’ would do the trick . If you are dealing with the bureaucracy, be ready to mouth the word ‘Sir’ at least a dozen times in a single conversation to get to them. If you are from Karachi, you would know how difficult it is to repeatedly say that word.    

In Islamabad, people, at least the ones that I come across to, generally assume that you have a driver and a cook and if you happen to mention that you have neither, they don’t know how to respond Another thing that I have noticed is that domestic help is much more obsequious in the cooler climes of Islamabad than in the coastal shores of Karachi. If we ever had to ask our driver to stay after hours or call him on his day off, we had to tread very carefully to make sure that we do not offend him in any way before we ask for the favour. Here in Islamabad, they throw ma’ams and begum sahibas left, right and centre. After 3 months, I have finally stopped looking over my shoulder every time someone address to me as ma'am.
 
Another thing I found quite shocking was that there are gyms in Islamabad that are not only exorbitantly priced, some of them like to be paid in Benjamins (that’s 100 dollar bills for the uninitiated) and they charge more than my monthly salary to make sure that their clients stay fit. Honestly, if someone is paying that amount of money, they would think at least thrice before putting a morsel of food in their mouth. 

Islamabad is beautiful, and all the more beautiful when it rains. It is quite possible to go out, enjoy the weather and have fun when it is raining, unlike Karachi where everyone rushes to home at the first hint of rain causing crazy traffic jams for the fear of water logged streets. Every generator owning Karachiite also head to the nearest pump to store petrol or diesel to bear the imminent long hours of electricity break downs that follow the first rain drop. But all is not hunky dory in the tree lined lanes of Islamabad. When you go home and you want to enjoy a hot bath and a hot meal, you realize you have to make do without them as gas supply is erratic, at best, during the winters. One is always found choosing between a hot meal or a hot bath. Running heaters before 10 o’ clock is out of question so hiding under the duvets is the general recreation during the long evenings of winter. 

Karachi is probably more overtly religious than Islamabad as one get to see more girls in hijabs/burqas and a lot more men in beards than in Islamabad perhaps because of greater class and ethnic diversity in Karachi.  Something else worth noticing is that more men dye their hair in the capital than they do it in Karachi. If one is perceptive, there is a pattern to be observed. On Monday mornings, men would be sporting jet black moustaches but as the week progresses, their white roots would start peeking and by Friday evening, they would be quite visible, come Monday morning and all the mustaches would be miraculously black again. 

Unlike Karachi, people in Islamabad actually follow traffic rules (though over speeding is quite common) and actually wait for the traffic signal to turn green before they push their foot down the accelerator.  Karachiites, unlike people in the sanitized capital, take pride in breaking the traffic signal and unless a traffic police constable is physically standing in their way, they would not stop when the light turns red. 

Islamabad perhaps boasts the maximum number of four wheel drives and expensive cars for a city that size in the entire region. One run from Kohsar Market to Fatima Jinnah Park and you would get to drive next to one massive expensive vehicle after another.  Karachi though has its fair share of mean machines on the road, is also the city of colorful rickshaws and minibuses. I quite miss checking out rickshaws with funny one liners or poetry over their tail lights. 

Anyone who has ever lived in Karachi would be familiar with flags of various political parties vying for your attention from the maze of electrical wires along with Free Afia Siddiqqi banners. Islamabad, on the other hand, has hoardings with pictures of the Prime Minister and the President along with the recent visiting dignitaries from our friendly neighbours – be it Turkish President or the Chinese premier. Karachiites are used to staying at home because of violent strikes whereas people in Islamabad get a day off when Chinese head of the government address the joint session of the Parliament. 

Islamabad is serene in comparison to Karachi’s commotion. No quacks are selling you quick solutions to regain your manhood or to get back the love of your life. Despite all its greenery and rose and jasmine garden, it is insipid for someone who has lived in Karachi.



View of Islamabad from Peer Sohawa
Rainy roads of Islamabad


Film hoardings at the cinema in Saddar  makes Karachi all the more rangeen

The regular rallies in front of Karachi Press Club

The most awesome rickshaws dot the streets of Karachi

Originally published in The Friday Times.


This screen shot of the page is duly provided by Abid Hussain of The Friday Times

Thursday 3 February 2011

Afridi - the quintessential Pakistani

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In 21st century Pakistan, cricket can be called the opiate of the masses, and the hardest most potent drug of all is one Shahid Khan Afridi. Pakistan has produced far better cricketers than Afridi who brought greater accolades and honor home, some were even bigger stars and some had more charisma but no one invoked as much passion among its subjects as Shahid Afridi does, for he is, undoubtedly, Pakistan’s favourite son.
Pakistan, unfortunately, is divided on most matters, whether it is the matter of royalties for natural resources, water distribution or Veena Malik’s conduct in the house of Big Boss; what Pakistanis agree on, wholeheartedly is that Afridi is essential to cricket in Pakistan and they would want him around for as long as he can play. Afridi is the biggest - perhaps the only - leveler in Pakistan. He belongs to everyone and is adored by all with the same intensity.
Pakistanis whether living at home or abroad love Afridi, whether they are young, old or senile, they love Afridi. Whether they are male, female or a hermaphrodite, they love Shahid Afridi. Whether they are gay, straight, confused, bisexual, trysexual or asexual, they love Shahid Afridi. Whether they are tribal or urbane went to one of the Peela schools or something as elitist as Aitchison or KGS, they love Shahid Afridi. They love Afridi because essentially they can all see a little bit of themselves in him, for he is a quintessential Pakistani – irreverent, restless, a little rough around the edges, impulsive, talented, street smart, ambitious but a little clueless (ok, Pakistan is a lot more clueless, but this is not the place for that rant), quirky and oh-so-endearing.
Though his heart is always in the right place, like most of Pakistanis, the line for right or wrong is a little blurry for him. He has danced and hopped and walked on a pitch to make it work - of course for the country –got caught and was forgiven by all because he was doing it for the motherland. He tried chewing a ball with over a couple of dozen cameras zooming in on him – again for the country – and we absolved him. He was impulsive and did not think but we forgave because we all have been guilty of doing the same. Afridi, probably like most of the Pakistanis, believed that the end justifies the means and was willing to go to any lengths to win it for us, even if meant chewing a ball with Umar Gul’s sweat on it!
Afridi has announced his retirement as frequently as Lindsey Lohan has attended rehab – which is an insane number of times – but he always comes back and we always welcome him with open arms
Though Shoaib Akhtar and Mohammed Asif have gained more notoriety for getting banned, Afridi too has had his share of bans for pirouetting on the pitch in Faisalabad, for mistaking the ball for an apple in Dubai and hitting a spectator with his bat in South Africa. He also received various reprimands from PCB for shooting from his mouth. Unlike Akhtar and Asif, Afridi is can transgress like no other and is still forgiven by all.
Just like most Pakistanis, Afridi too has gone through an identity crisis. He got into the team as a leggie and then scored that record breaking earth shattering mind numbingly stupendous century and deluded himself for a very long time that he is a batsmen. He then thought of himself as a batting all rounder. However, unlike most Pakistanis, he has metamorphosed into what he was always destined to be – a bowler. Though his heroics as a bowler are legendary these days, the idea of an Afridi six still has aphrodisiac like qualities and despite coming to terms with the fact that he is mainly a bowler, we all yearn for those blows that have enthralled us all for oh so long.
Just like other Pakistanis, Afridi refuses to learn and continues to make the same mistakes. While Pakistanis continue to elect the same old faces and vacillate between democracy and dictatorship, Afridi continues to squander his wicket playing one suicidal shot after another. He may shake his head and vow never to slip-up again but every time he puts on the pads, out goes the memory and the rush of blood propels him to do the same – all Pakistanis have been guilty of this, hence we forgive our mercurial Lala for all his follies.
Diplomacy and tact are alien to most Pakistanis; we are one of the most “in your face” people in the world and Shahid Afridi is a true son of Pakistan. Whether telling the world that PCB has announced the team without his consultation or calling Yasir Hamid an idiot with mental faculties of a 15 year old, Afridi never shied away from making his opinions known.
Lala is the only Pakistani and third player in the world to have scored 6000 runs, taken 100 catches and 250 wickets in ODI history. He is also the first, and to date only, cricketer to have taken 50 wickets in T20 and also holds the record for hitting maximum number of sixes ever but we also know that we don’t love him for his cricketing prowess.

Let’s admit it. Lala is not the best cricketer who has ever graced this land, nor is he most articulate, but he is magic when he is on field, even when he does not do much. But when it is his day, he is breathtaking. Back in 2005, I went to see an ODI against England in Karachi. The crowd screamed when Afridi’s name was announced as he was back in the side after two match ban. He came and played a short and sweet innings like he mostly do. He got run out because of a bad call from MoYo. So miffed was the crowd with MoYo that he dared to get Lala out, the a full capacity National stadium booed him and the stand I was in did not even cheer him for his half century. That was the day I was convinced that Lala transcends it all and appeal to people like very few mortals can. He can temper with the pitch and get banned, eat the cricket ball, cavort with Indian actresses, peddle awful soda drinks, kill animals and gets away with it all.

Afridi sells and every brand manager worth his salt knows it. He can add the cool quotient to something as mundane as rice or toothpaste and make it popular beyond its target audience because Lala’s audience is just about everyone. If anyone has doubts, they should check his title of Boom Boom on the shirts of the whole cricket team – a brand name that is coined after him. Heck, he has even made spin bowling look sexy.
Here is some Lala love for all Afridi fans.




Lala is not at home in test kit
Lala ki sawariyan
Lala is awesome in a car

But then Lala is just as awesome inside a plane

and no one can rock bus riding like Lala does

Lala - the sartorial wonder
Lala in a cap

Lala does wonders for chappals

Lala attempting Levity

All tied up and ready to go

on the right head, even namaz ki topi can be a fashion statement

Modeling for his own brand

Working a floral shirt

Working desi formals - with ice cream parlor chor in the background




Afridi with relief goods in Balochistan during 2007 floods

Afridi signed up for I-Own-Karachi campaign

Flood relief work in KPK

Flood relief work

Awww I got visited by Lala


Probably telling the mates how did he dance around the pitch and got banned


He models with mates when the occasion calls for it, sometimes even the crew joins in


Even Brett Lee is charmed by our Lala

But MoYo is more interested in Burger (Would Burger King be Halal enough for MoYo?)

Doing the kaptani duty

Convincing the coach that he indeed is a lucky bastard

With Rashid Lateef

Lala in groupie mode with Courtney Walsh

Younus loves him as much as we do

Lala inspires awe in his fans ...

This kid is in seventh heaven

aray yaar camera tau hathao samnay se

Adoration

Lala in the middle

Yes!!! got an autograph. My friends will be, like, so jealous.

demand for autograph is just as great among aunties..

and kids ...

and gora people


the police walah is probably envied by his colleagues


Lala craze in unfazed


This girl is ecstatic but who can blame her,he is actually holding her hand




Lala the family man



playing with daughter

Come on Lala, keep your children away from Kakmal, he is bad influence

and he should also keep his girls away from Inzi and his towel clad gaddi nasheen son


With Aqsa and Ajwa


in pain


Lala in action

defying gravity with blond highlights

with gray hair at the temples

major lolz, Lala attempting to read ICC rulebook. Kakmal and Gullay are not even trying




Lets get that one

At times, Lala kills soft furry birds

but then he takes on a snake as well

Though he gets paid shitloads of money to peddle pepsi, he is not averse to other brands

Telling reporters to bow down to his awesomeness

Making prayers look cool (YK needs to shave though)

What??? Lala leading the prayers even when MoYo has a bigger beard and spend far more money on beard hair dye!!!

Under pressure, he can mistake the ball for an apple

Sublime!

If only I had food available, I would not have eaten that ball

Inzi bhai tau road pe lay aye hain yaar

the strut

that's why I sell that shampoo

is that a hint of a paunch? the fans really don't care




Lala can also work a pole without stripping



Self love much? ghar ke har kamray main apni hi photo

o ja bhai, rasta pakar




SRK wants a piece of Lala


Lala is so beyond cool that even Ashton Kutcher copied his look


With arms wide open

and still open


oh the arms




and that's how it became the signature style

and here I am ... again


I get escorts, but not the right kind

Come on man, you gotta listen to me..


yes, cheer me on

yar bhaji, you dont crack Patha jokes and I wont crack sardar jokes

Lala is so nice, he even takes care of the crying babies

Need some breathing space please




Samson Afridi



Yeah baby




A towel over shorts!!! I think Lala is trying to hide the fact that there is less fab and more flab around the waist


An ass-tastic view


PS: this is perhaps the most time consuming post ever
PPS: I initially posted some 85 odd pictures but then decided to go for a century, so added a few more.