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Celebrating the life of the mind

The 8th Karachi Literary Festival saw an increased footfall and as ever became the most happening event in the city by the sea

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  • Over three days, everyone who is anyone flocked to the Karachi Literature Festival (KLF) 2017. Crisp starched saris, Kolhapuri chappals, white hair and white chooridars, pure leather-bound notebooks, endless rounds of tea serving as the fuel for animated conversations about existentialism, philosophy, politics, the arts, and the role literature plays for all of these. The 8th KLF saw an increased footfall and as ever became the most happening event in the city by the sea.

“The KLF has busted many myths that existed about Karachi and its people. This festival has now successfully added ‘literary tradition’ to the list of things Karachi is known for. The literary tradition that is the legacy of our elders has been rekindled in our youth and we at the Oxford University Press (OUP) Pakistan are extremely proud to be the flag bearers of literary festivals in Pakistan,” says Saadia Mirza, Rights Manager at OUP.

The KLF was launched in March 2010, and is directed by Ameena Saiyid, founded by Ameena Saiyid and Asif Farrukhi, and produced by OUP. It is open to all and the entry is free. It features debates, discussions, talks, English poetry readings and Urdu mushaira, a book fair, book launches, readings, signings, satire, theatre, film screenings, music, and dance.

KLF has grown — from an attendance of roughly 5,000 in 2010 to 175,000 in 2016. In 2010 it had 34 sessions with 58 speakers/performers. This year, the 8th KLF featured close to 200 speakers and performers in around 76 sessions.

This year, a recurrent theme that surfaced in many talks was Pakistan’s economic challenges, and how they are affecting society and culture as a whole.

The important issue of gender was brought up in many a panel. Feminist activists and writers like Fahmida Riaz, Sheema Kirmani, Zehra Nigah and Sania Saeed were seen prominently participating. One unique book that was launched was Interpreting Islam, Modernity and Women’s Rights in Pakistan by Dr Anita Weiss, Professor at the University of Oregon. It was her second time at the KLF.

KLF has grown — from an attendance of roughly 5,000 in 2010 to 175,000 in 2016. In 2010 it had 34 sessions with 58 speakers/performers. This year, the 8th KLF featured close to 200 speakers and performers in around 76 sessions.

“The first time was in 2012. I’ve seen a few important changes. First, there is a lot more emphasis on books now. Previously there were a lot of talks, but not necessarily connected to explicit things people had written. Second, the audience now seems even more diverse than in 2012, with people coming from all walks of life,” says Dr Weiss.

However, the diversity she sees as positive is seen by some as a recession in the exclusivity of the KLF. The elite ownership and intellectual regality seems to be diluting. Some see this as a positive; others don’t. Many visitors were overheard commenting that the standard of the KLF is going down, referring to the fact that it is becoming more awaami which is resulting in a deconstruction of some of the carefully constructed social silos.

However, people like journalist and documentary filmmaker Faisal Sayani feel the opposite to be true. “The selection process seems flawed and nepotism-based, and KLF has become commercialised. But the festival is not, in essence, designed in a way that would deprive or bar masses from it. I find it to be pretty inclusive,” says Sayani.

KLF 5

He praised how many sessions dealt with important aspects of history, and praised in particular the session of screening of the documentary of slain activist Parween Rehman. But not everyone, according to him, visits the KLF for the love of the written word. “I believe hoards of people are just there socialise and take selfies with intellectual celebs.”

In a city like Karachi, a diverse crowd is but natural. “Karachi is a melting pot of so many ethnic and linguistic traditions that it is not easy to define the culture and tradition of this city — the Karachi experience is an intense experience. And that intensity is reflected in the sessions of the KLF. Any visitors will vouch for the palpable energy in the atmosphere of the KLF as writers, readers, politicians, actors, musicians, students, poets, academics and journalists all come together to celebrate the literary achievements and discuss the issues faced by Pakistan today,” says Mirza.

One of the most important sessions was about the city, titled “‘Karachi: Is Pakistan’s Boom Town still Booming?”, with a panel of people who know Karachi, especially the unparalleled Arif Hasan who knows the city better than anyone else.

KLF 1

“In 2015, 902 cars were registered daily in Karachi; during the last six months 800 motorbikes were registered daily. This city cannot accommodate it,” says Hasan. He raised brave questions about where the money being invested into Karachi’s real estate is coming from. Answering a question, he said that the main issue with Karachi is the tension that exists because it is the capital of a Sindhi-speaking province being dominated by a non-Sindhi speaking minority of the province.

The panel included stalwarts of Karachi, namely Aquila Ismail who is writer, activist and sister of Parween Rehman, Najmuddin Shaikh who is a distinguished diplomat, and Haris Gazdar who is a renowned researcher. Ismail compared Karachi to the mythical city of El Dorado, and said the gold of this city is in the hearts of its residents.

The crowd-pullers in the open air garden were more than just literary. One such popular celebrity session was the former celluloid queen Shabnam in conversation with Bushra Ansari. Shabnam brought back memories of a Pakistan before the fall of Dacca, and spoke about the best of times and the worst of times. Stand-up comedian Shafaat Ali provided the comic relief at the same venue, while the legendary Zia Mohyeddin’s reading session titled “Memories and Reflections” gave the KLF what completed it.

While many visitors observed that the number of sessions in Urdu and especially vernacular languages has decreased, Dr Weiss says that the writers were very diverse. But she adds that “There should be an effort to have greater regional distribution of authors, such as some coming from Khyber Pakhtunkhwa or from Balochistan. There are important works coming out of those provinces, and effort should be made to include them.”

When asked why KLF and such festivals are important, Dr Weiss summed it up. “This is a celebration of the life of the mind.”

True to the KLF tradition, five literary prizes were awarded this year too at the festival.

These were awarded to the following winners:

· 2017 Winner of the Karachi Literature Festival Infaq Foundation Urdu Prize
Nasir Abbas Nayyar for Urdu Adab Ki Tashkeel-e-Jadeed· 2017 Winner of the Karachi Literature Festival Pepsi Prize
Yasmin Khan for The Raj at War· Winner of the 2017 The Italy Reads Pakistan Award
Omar S. Hamid for The Spinner’s Tale

· 2017 Getz Pharma Fiction Prize Winner
Omar Shahid Hamid for The Spinner’s Tale

· 2017 Karachi Literature Festival German Peace Prize Winners
Anam Zakaria for The Footprints of Partition (1st prize)
Farahnaz Ispahani for Purifying the Land of the Pure (2nd prize)
Ali Nobil Ahmad for Masculinity, Sexuality, and Illegal Migration (3rd prize)

http://tns.thenews.com.pk/celebrating-life-mind/#.WKl8tq1vrIU

Karachi Literature Festival: Will the real liberal please stand up?

Published: February 13, 2017

KLF serves as a hub for Pakistan’s beautiful minds that allow critical thinking and are truly progressive. PHOTO: KARACHI LITERATURE FESTIVAL.

http://blogs.tribune.com.pk/story/46117/karachi-literature-festival-will-the-real-liberal-please-stand-up/

The recently held Karachi Literature Festival 2017 was a hub alright. But a hub of what? What it stands for, ideally, is not just celebrating books and authors, but also to serve as a hub for Pakistan’s beautiful minds that allow critical thinking and are truly progressive. Literature and the arts, on such forums, are designed to allow an open inflow and outflow of thoughts and ideas, and an exchange of not just narrative but also counter narrative.

One counterfoil session of the KLF 2017 was introduced as a discussion on conflict-resolution through art and enterprise. One of Pakistan’s well known musicians dared to play a short video as a tribute to the late Pakistani pop icon-turned-evangelist Junaid Jamshed, and went on to talk about how he and Junaid, despite ideological differences, managed to remain lifelong friends, and worked in collaboration on projects pertaining to peace-building. The reaction of a renowned “liberal and progressive” scholar on the panel was perhaps not unexpected but certainly unwarranted. He ridiculed Junaid Jamshed’s long beard and dressing style, and then went on to comment on his alleged misogyny. The comments were not just out of context. They were a giveaway of something that we don’t talk about often enough, which is that when it comes to “liberalism”, Pakistanis seem to have lost the plot.

Most dictionaries define a “liberal” in words as these: Someone who is open to new behaviour or opinions and willing to discard traditional values; lacking moral restraint; tolerant to change; a moderate person or viewpoint that favours a society or social code less restrictive than the current one, and welcomes constructive change in approaches to solving economic, social, and other problems.

The irony of ironies is that the very things liberalism stands against – being judgmental, being inflexible and being rigid – are the very traps we see liberals falling into. Liberal thought is, in essence, the anti-thesis of extremism and fundamentalism. It is the willingness to burst bubbles, push boundaries, and think out of boxes. True liberalism is having the heart to listen open-mindedly to an opposing view point, even though you may disagree vehemently.

Pakistan, today, is in desperate need of truly liberal people who may have their own set of beliefs, yet are willing to hear the other side out, and engage in dialogue. The intelligentsia, as it consists of more evolved people, has on it the responsibility of building bridges. Instead, what we are seeing on both sides is deep intolerance. The religious are seen indulging in feel-good extremism, and write off those who don’t follow religion in exactly the way they interpret it. For that, they get the flack which is perhaps justified. But it is less painful because the right-wingers never really claim to be open-minded. It hits worse when those who claim to be progressive and liberal follow the same patterns. Ironically, many of them, if not all, end up being equally intolerant of dissenting viewpoints, if not more.

Puritanical thinking makes one feel holier-than-thou (and this holds true for both the left and the right, for both the religious and the secular), plugs our ears to voices of those we see as “the others”, and perpetuates a binary world view, leading to the “it is either my way or the high way” attitude.

For cases in point, one should skim through social media websites. The easiest and laziest thing to do is put blanket generalisations on groups of people – something we are becoming very good at. Common assumptions are that a bearded man or a hijabi woman cannot be a human rights activist, a peace-builder or one raising their voice against domestic violence. Equally common are counterpart assumptions that a woman donning a sleeveless shirt or a man who is in the music or showbiz industry lack in faith.

Sneering at the opposite camps might get one some additional readers and followers, or a few guffaws from a chisel-headed audience that wants to enjoy the comfort of collaborative mockery. But what many of our brightest minds end up looking like is eternal teenagers and wandering Peter Pans who imagine the world as a virtual university town where everyone must conform to thinking in a certain way.

This is not to undermine the contributions KLF and similar forums are making. It is just that by default, events that act as magnets to the urban elite seem less welcoming to those who differ socially or ideologically.

We are all living in our ideological silos, comfortable in our respective bubbles with our own sets of designated cheerleaders. No one wants to try understanding another point of view. We sing praises of a word called “empathy” when we have not even arrived at the station of “tolerance”. We spare neither the living, nor the dead. And through it all, we see ourselves as the problem-solvers when we, ourselves, are part of the problem of polarisation. How, then, can any of us claim to be liberal?

If Pakistan truly wants to get rid of extremism, there will have to be more open-minded listening, especially listening to those who are not on the same page as you, without jesting about or being dismissive of the other point of view.

Farahnaz Zahidi

Farahnaz Zahidi

Farahnaz is a writer and editor, and has worked as the Features Editor with The Express Tribune. Her focus is human-centric feature stories. She now writes as a freelancer, and works in the field of corporate communications. She loves literature and traveling. She tweets @FarahnazZahidi. Her work can be seen at chaaidaani.wordpress.com/

The art of storytelling

With dramatic readings, Zambeel is reviving the ancient tradition of ‘dastangoi’

The art of storytelling

Eons ago, people had all the time in the world to nurture the art of listening. Long before the printing press was invented, and later the worldwide web that transmuted into e-books and digital books, narratives were recited and literature was spoken. The Hamzanama, or the Dastan e Ameer Hamza, was one of the many such works of literature that told fantastic tales of the many ventures of Ameer Hamza. Ameer Hamza’s companion Amar Ayyaar (also called Umro Ayyaar) had a bag called a Zambeel that contained all that that is in the world but the Zambeel would never be filled. The magical Zambeel, hence, could produce objects that would be core subjects of many a dastan.

But that was then and this is now. Princess Scherezade could no longer have bartered her life for tales she told as part of her Alif Laila repertoire, for no one has a thousand and one seconds to spare, let alone A Thousand and One Nights. Yet, there is a present day version of the Zambeel that has been successful in its attempts at reviving the tradition of dastangoi, or storytelling as we may call it today. Enter the Zambeel Dramatic Readings, and see a modern day semblance of this ancient art. For even if for a brief period of time, this will take you into a world where Urdu literature is read out to you the way it should be.

Zambeel Dramatic Readings came into being in early 2011 when a group of three friends — Asma Mundrawala, Mahvash Faruqi and Saife Hasan — was requested by a friend to read out a story in a gathering. “We embellished it with music. The response was what made us initiate and realise Zambeel,” says Mundrawala, a visual artist and theatre practitioner who is one of the key people behind this initiative. Zambeel Dramatic Readings was founded with a view to present texts from Urdu literature in a dramatised form to a live audience, and has mainly targeted adult audiences, but has also ventured into readings for children during the last three years.

“We aim to present texts rendered in their dramatised form, to create a dynamic collusion between literature and performance. Referencing traditions of storytelling and the contemporary form of the radio play, our works traverse time and geographical boundaries to interpret and enliven narratives through sound and recitation,” says Mundrawala.

“In an age where the purists were fearful of the fading away of correct pronunciation and nuanced delivery of Urdu, the Zambeel team has bridged the gap between the older generation and younger one by introducing this genre to them.”

Mahvash Faruqi is an educator with a background in theatre, and Saife Hasan is a performing arts practitioner particularly known for his acting.

What begun with writings from Ismat Chughtai’s rich repertoire, the group has since inception presented many projects comprising stories in both English and Urdu by authors that include Quratulain Hyder, Saadat Hasan Manto, Masood Mufti, Afsan Chowdhury, Raihana Hasan, Ashraf Suboohi, Asif Farrukhi, Munshi Premchand, Faiz Ahmed Faiz and Naiyer Masud. Of late, more contemporary writers’ works are also being included into the repertoire, like Asad Muhammad Khan, Ghulam Abbas and Zamiruddin Ahmed.

“Zambeel readings have reintroduced the cultural tradition of dastangoi. The selection and the delivery has the audience in raptures,” says journalist and literature aficionado Afia Salam. “In an age where the purists were fearful of the fading away of correct pronunciation and nuanced delivery of Urdu, the Zambeel team has bridged the gap between the older generation and younger one by introducing this genre to them.”

Mundrawala affirms that while initially the audience mainly comprised only of Urdu literature enthusiasts, over time the younger generation has also begun frequenting the readings. “We now have audiences who have read the stories and also those who have not read the stories. The younger lot may not understand Urdu with facility yet they come.”

Fahad Naveed, a visual artist and long form writer, is one of Zambeel’s young audience members. “I’ve been following Zambeel for a few years now and greatly admire their work. Their readings make Urdu literature approachable and exciting for varied audiences. I’m particularly drawn in by the group’s use of sound; often sitting on a table, they are able to transport the audience with just their dialogue delivery and a few sound effects and audio cues,” he says.

Also reviving the tradition initiated by grandmothers of the region to read out stories to children, Zambeel now also caters to a younger audience, enthralling both parents and children. One such fan of these readings is Saima Harris, an optometrist and mother of a seven-year-old.

“Our experience of Zambeel’s dramatic readings was Tipu aur Jaadu ki Bayl, an Urdu narration of my son’s favorite Jack and the Beanstalk. The audience was predominantly the English-speaking ‘Burger’ primary-schoolers of Karachi (who tend to shy away from the Urdu language), and their very keen parents,” she says, adding the dramatic and interactive Urdu narration, interspersed with toe-tapping melodies, brought a traditional English childhood classic to life. “It is a step aside from the all-important but solitary reading from a book or the mind-numbing watching on a screen. There is immeasurable potential here to both entertain and educate.”

Artist Rumana Husain, who is known for solo readings for children and production of quality Urdu literature for children, says it is rare nowadays to have literary readings in the country read in a dramatic fashion, and is all praise for the initiative.

Zambeel performers imbue texts with a poignant expressive quality and perform narratives that are supported by a soundscape, enriching the aural experience of the audience through sound and recitation, explains Mundrawala. “While we are three core members, we have had many actor friends work with us by lending their voice and acting talents to our projects. Their contributions have enriched our works and we are privileged to have had so many actors, as well as designers, artists, and musicians collaborate with us.”

The team has recently initiated an audio platform of readings once a month on the YouTube channel, Zambeelnaama.

Did Yasra Rizvi deserve to be trolled for her unconventional mehr?

Published: January 7, 2017

Yasra’s unconventional mehr was something many had not heard of. PHOTO: FACEBOOK.

When actress Yasra Rizvi set out to marry Abdul Hadi, little did she know that her claim to fame will be that she married a man 10 years younger and her mehr, which her husband agreed to, is Fajr prayer (obligatory morning prayers for Muslims). The couple was scrutinised harshly through the lens of a magnifying glass, and was trolled on social media for one simple reason – they dared to do something against the norm. And nothing scares us like what we do not understand.

People are still familiar with the older-woman-weds-younger-man scenario, even though they see it as abominable, even those who harp on about how important following the example of the Prophet (pbuh) is, forget that it is also his Sunnah that he married a woman 15 years his senior at the prime of his youth.

But Yasra’s unconventional mehr was something many had not heard of. We, as a nation, have common misconceptions about this Islamic tenet, stemming from a lack of awareness. Yasra, thank you! You taking this step out of the norm may just have triggered a debate that could result in some authentic information regarding the concept of mehr trickling into our collective narrative.

Here are just a few very basic facts about the concept of mehr. While these are just a few pointers, I hope this will encourage us to talk about mehr and help expose some myths:

Mehr (also called haq mehr) is a mandatory payment of tangible assets, currency, property or an intangible, conditional commitment or understanding that both parties agree upon.

Yes, a mehr can be intangible, as is in Yasra Rizvi’s case. The best example of an intangible mehr comes from the Sahabiya Umm Sulaym Bint Milhan al-Ansarriyah (ra) who agreed to marry Abu Talha (ra), and the mehr was him accepting Islam.

Islam has not fixed an upper or lower limit of mehr. It will depend upon the financial standing of both the man and the woman.

While no amount or limit has been prescribed, it shouldn’t be an amount so extravagant that the man cannot afford to pay (and is just fixed to portray financial or social standing). Nor should it be so miniscule that the tenet appears to have been taken lightly. However, once again, no sum or limit has been set, neither upper nor lower.

The amount is to be decided upon after mutual consultation between the man and the woman tying the knot. This is one more reason why the couple entering into the contract read through and understand the clauses of the nikkah nama, and the terms are mutually agreed upon. If elders of the family help with the consultation, it should be made sure that the man and the woman are on the same page and are aware of the agreement.

Mehr is an absolutely obligatory clause of the contract of marriage for Muslims, no matter how big or small the amount.

Mehr is designed as a means of security and protection for the woman. It will be the sole property of the woman and she will have discretion over how and when to spend it. It is therefore a part of the nikkah, and its payment is not conditional with or tied to the incidence of talaaq (divorce). It is therefore strongly recommended that it is paid at the time of the nikkah. However, if there is a genuine reason why it cannot be paid at that time, mawajjal/muakhhar (deferred/promised) rather than mo’ajjal/muqaddam (immediate/prompt), then it should be paid as soon as the man can afford to pay it. Till such time that he pays it to her, it is considered a kind of debt that he owes to his wife. Islam makes clear that if he cannot pay it at that given time, he should intend on paying it at the earliest.

Upon a man’s death, all that he leaves behind as inheritance for his heirs may not be distributed among the inheritors until all payments or debts he owes to anyone are paid off, which includes the mehr.

No man who wishes to marry a woman is exempt from mehr. Thus, the custom of asking the wife to “forgive him the mehr” is not in line with Islamic tenets.

Knowledge gives one the power to make informed decisions. Yasra used that power. Instead of wasting time judging her decision, it’s best to learn more so that we, too, can make informed decisions.

Information shared in this write-up is based on authentic Islamic traditions.

Farahnaz Zahidi

Farahnaz Zahidi

Farahnaz is a writer and editor, and has worked as the Features Editor with The Express Tribune. Her focus is human-centric feature stories. She now writes as a freelancer, and works in the field of marketing and corporate communications. She loves literature and traveling. She tweets on @FarahnazZahidi. Her work can be seen at chaaidaani.wordpress.com/

The views expressed by the writer and the reader comments do not necessarily reflect the views and policies of The Express Tribune.

http://blogs.tribune.com.pk/story/44707/did-yasra-rizvi-deserve-to-be-trolled-for-her-unconventional-mehr/

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How Junaid Jamshed used ‘Us Rah Par’ to foreshadow his transformation

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Published: January 4, 2017
Junaid Jamshed on fusion music, Pakistan’s elite and singing naat. PHOTO: AMEER HAMZA

Junaid Jamshed on fusion music, Pakistan’s elite and singing naat. PHOTO: AMEER HAMZA

KARACHI    : For him, the song was never about a beloved. It was always about the Beloved. But he could not have said it then.

The stubble Junaid Jamshed sported in the video was perhaps one of the first times the strikingly handsome singer was seen with some form of a beard. But it was seen as part of the costume for the character of the taxi driver he played in the video, chewing on a match stick while looking intently at a female gypsy singer.

PHOTO COURTESY: PAK FILES

PHOTO COURTESY: PAK FILES

As the nation reeled from the shock of his abrupt death in the airplane crash that took away 47 lives almost a month ago, both his songs and his naat renditions started going viral on social media. It could not have been either/or. It had to be both. Some chose the former part of his singing career – mushy, poignantly phrased and softly rendered ballads and patriotic songs that helped each one of us emote at some phase of our life. Others chose his latter offerings –Islamically inspired renditions in which he sung praises of Allah and the Prophet (pbuh). Then there were those, few in number, who celebrated both phases of the icon’s life – his voice had been with them in moments of both majaazi (of the beloved) and haqeeqi (of the Beloved) Ishq.

Recap: Some of the pop icons we lost to 2016

That was Junaid – a nexus between the two extremes. The song that was shared most by his fans on both ends of the spectrum was the ballad from his solo album in 1999, Us Rah Par. This is deeply ironic; that song represents the transformational phase of this complex, layered and loved icon of Pakistan. It would be unfair to his audiences that what he revealed about this song is not shared with them.

“That song was much deeper than romantic love for me, unlike what the video portrayed,” he had said, while talking to The Express Tribune in 2013. “By 1999, the transition in me had started. Others may not know but I know that for me, that song was about my journey. But at that time, it could not have been shown.”

Against the backdrop of his statement, the lyrics begin to make more sense:

Hum kyun chalein

Uss raah par
Jis raah par
Sab hee chalein
Kyun na chunein
Woh raasta
Jis par nahin
Koi gaya….

Time was to prove that whether people agreed with his choices or not, he did go on to choose a path that few from the entertainment industry would dare to step on. “The song had been conceived metaphorically,” Junaid had shared. While the lyrics were penned by Shoaib Mansoor, Junaid’s interpretation was very different. “I confess that I had no plans of leaving music at that time. But the love of Allah had hit me. I could feel I was changing. I couldn’t run away from it.”

Thousands bid last farewell to JJ

In many interviews and talks he gave later, as part of his work as a muballigh (evangelist), he shared that despite having fame, money and popularity, something in him would not let him rest, as if something was amiss. Investing himself in a material world had begun to seem like a waste of time. “It started with me going to religious people and the mosque for my own spiritual healing. I had everything – fame, money. But something was lacking. I felt incomplete. And being in a masjid made me feel calm. Masjid still has the same effect on me. Masjid, to me, is the place where we discover humanity.”

Junaid found his direction and that led him to discover the peace in himself we all aspire for to be complete within. PHOTO: JUNAID JAMSHED FACEBOOK PAGE Junaid found his direction and that led him to discover the peace in himself we all aspire for to be complete within. PHOTO: JUNAID JAMSHED FACEBOOK PAGE

Dil udaas nazrein udaas

Dilbar nahin gar aas paas
Din raat aah bharna
Aur beqaraar rehna
Yeh khail hee bekaar hai
Kuch bhi nahin angaar hai
Is aag main jalein kyun
Pal pal jiyein marein kyun

Many temptations tugged at his heart all through his life. He never stopped loving music, but eventually he made the choice that felt right to him. “The life of this world and the Hereafter… if you please one, the other will be upset. It’s a choice you have to make,” he had said.

An enduring memory: A conversation with Junaid Jamshed

I remember asking him if he missed his past as a singer. “Naheen yaar. No withdrawal symptoms of my past life. I am not proud but happy that as a singer, I contributed to the spirit of patriotism and my country in a positive way. I lived that part of my life to the fullest. I cherish my time with the Vital Signs,” he had said, adding that he recognised that his voice was a gift from God. “Shoaib’s poetry and my voice touched people’s hearts. They could relate to it. Rohail, Shehzad, Salman, Nusrat, Rizwan, Asad Ahmed, Amir Zaki…they are much better musicians than I ever was. But somehow, I have a voice that people connect to.”

Taimur Junaid recalls the relationship he shared with his father. PHOTO: FACEBOOK @TAIMUR JUNAID

Taimur Junaid recalls the relationship he shared with his father. PHOTO: FACEBOOK @TAIMUR JUNAID

He knew he was a people’s person. “Mein awaami aadmi hoon. The work I am doing now has much more human interaction, compared to the showbiz days. Back then, the stage was in between,” Junaid had said.

Chalo ishq ka kaha maan kar

Apna sanam pehchaan kar

Kisi ese rang rang jaayein

Sab se juda nazar aayein…

Much to the frustration of his fans, who perhaps never forgave him for giving up music, Junaid went ahead and did what he had to. H,e indeed, did become coloured in a colour that made him stand out amongst all. He saw that as the colour of the Divine.

Watch the song here:

Have something to add in the story? Share it in the comments below. 

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The Junaid Jamshed not many knew

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Sitting here, writing a blog that is an obituary for Junaid Jamshed. This is surreal. It is unbelievable. And is an unpleasant and painful task, but one that I must carry out as someone who knew him well. Because he would have liked me to write this. For two reasons: Firstly, Junaid, or JJ, or Jay as close friends called him, was a people’s person. He did not mind the attention. He was used to it from a very early age. I remember asking him, during one of the three interviews of his I did spanning over two decades, whether he was so used to attention as a celebrity that even when he came towards religion, he enjoyed the adulation. He laughed and did not deny it. So he would be ok with this. But secondly, and more importantly, he would appreciate that the correct, and the factual, and the good is written about him. Junaid was not as guarded with the media as I initially thought…not guarded enough. His utterances often got him into trouble – he did not weigh words as one would expect from someone who had spent most of his life under the spotlight. So he ended up saying things that ruffled so many feathers at both ends of the spectrum. More than three years ago, after I met him and Shahi Hasan at Shahi’s studio for a feature story, he had later requested me to write about the other side of him. “People just see me as the person who stops women from driving cars and wants to deny women independence. I’m not like that! And there is more to me. Can you write something positive about me?” he had said. I had told him that journalism is something I do with honesty, and I will not write positive stuff unless I find positive stuff about him worth penning. He agreed. I did end up writing some positive stuff after all. That is what I am doing once again right now. He would have wanted this.

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So there is stuff about Junaid we all know but then there is stuff that we all don’t know.

Like the fact that he was big on not just charity but in particular about mother and child health, and had raised money and set up many medical care centres for maternal health. “The year was 2003. I remember reading somewhere that a woman travelling from Jhang to Faisalabad on a tonga in full-term labour died because no maternal health facility was close by. That story shook me. Pakistan’s women should not have to go through this,” he had said in that interview. During the interview, I had shared with him about the good work being done at the Koohi Goth Fistula Hospital. He started working on gathering both funds and support for the cause, and then raised enough money to support and cover the cost of some major projects the hospital needed funds for. Those getting treatment don’t even know that the person who helped give them a new lease of life is Junaid. The many unnamed individuals and families he was helping through his charity work will be hard hit at the loss.

Like the fact that he always, always struggled with his inner self after having chosen the path that he chose. I recall another pointed question I had asked, jestingly. “So the beard is your choice. But why not trim it?” “Yeh mat bolo (Don’t say that). It’s not easy,” he replied, and I felt guilty I ever asked that. An excerpt of the interview went like this:

“Sitting in Shahi Hasan’s studio, his fingers, a couple of times, delicately traced the contours of the guitar strings. But an inner commitment is stronger than the temptation. He hummed a few lines, but stopped. The darling of the Pakistani masses is no longer a balladeer. The passion has been channelised towards a higher love. His songs formerly talked about how to woo a beloved… his nasheeds and naats still do. But the Beloved has changed. JJ has evolved.”

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Trying to practice religion is an uphill task. There is always discrimination, and criticism, and of course he had to bear all that. Misogynist. Chauvinist. Mullah. The titles were many. So were the attacks on his selfies with female friends. Ironically, these were often hurled by the very people who supposedly believe that one should live and let live. The very people who will forever rely on his songs when they feel patriotic or heart-broken or in love or happy or sad.

For me, his voice has been with me through me own transitions. From a music buff to one who developed the heart and the taste for the naat and nasheed genre, his voice was a part and parcel of the journey. Even at the age of 52, his voice sounded young and untainted.

Junaid, like all of us, had his shortcomings. I strongly disagreed with so many of his stances, and agreed with others, like many of us. But he was a good soul, a loving son, husband and father. He made efforts to help others. He did help thousands, both through his charity and through his role in reviving the faith of so many. Like all of us, he may have fallen and gotten up many times on the path he chose. But he chose to stay on that path anyways. Not many take that path after a taste of such fame and adulation. Reminds one of his song:

Hum kyun chalain uss raah par jis raah par sub hee chalain

Kyun na chunain who raasta jis par naheen koi gaya…

He is just one story and this is just one obituary out of the 47 who lost their lives today. Each story unique. Each life unparalleled. Lives full of promise. Lives cut short.

Life is short. And unpredictable. If we take home one thing from Junaid’s passing, which I pray will be accepted by Allah as shahadat (martyrdom), it is to stop judging others.

Rest in peace JJ. And thank you for all the goodness you spread and the service you offered to humanity. May you be rewarded multi-fold in the Hereafter.

Published also at http://blogs.tribune.com.pk/story/43759/the-junaid-not-many-knew/

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Why I shared the #ChaiWala’s picture

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Published: October 18, 2016

If Pakistanis want to glam up their timelines with the photograph of this stunning young man, so be it. PHOTO: TWITTER/JIAHPHOTOGRAPHY

The piercing blue eyes. The stubble and the moustache. The attractive indifference. Blissfully unaware of the fact that thousands are ogling at him, he has become the hottest (pun intended) topic of debate, and has taken the internet by storm.

Bad start to the blog? I can already hear echoing disapproving remarks in my head that I have been reading on Facebook walls of friends. We over-read and over-intellectualise everything nowadays. I do too. This is why I thought many times before I posted the undeniably handsome chaiwala’s picture. Should I post it? Or not? And why exactly am I posting it? Am I posting it because he is handsome? Or am I posting it because he is handsome and is pouring chai, as chai is my self-claimed weakness? Or (what most people assumed was the case) am I posting it because he is handsome but is a chaiwala from anunderprivileged background?

Just like everything else, there is no single ideologue behind the phenomenon of the chaiwala. People sharing his photograph are not a monolithic entity. There are different reasons each one of us may cite for why we clicked on the share button. My sharing was initially habitual – I share many things that are trending and interesting. But further contemplation also led me to understand that one of my biggest reasons for sharing it, twisted as it may sound, is that if it’s alright to admire women for their beauty and make it the biggest thing about them, why can a man not be subject to the same?

Objectification of both genders is unacceptable. But if it is something that humanity as a race has not been able to fight back yet, then just like the blame of the original sin is shared, let the burden of beauty be shared as well, irrespective of gender. There is a thin line between plain admiration and objectification.

What I would and do have a problem with is the accompanying surprise that he is a chaiwala. That this is a man from an obviously lower income background, and is yet so good looking. Like all things good in life, somewhere the upper tier bourgeois of Pakistan have come to believe that even looks and God-gifted attributes are co-dependent on money and affluence.

On another note, the chaiwala viral trend reinforces another fact: that our ideas of “beauty” remain euro-centric. The blue eyes, the fair complexion, the chiselled jawline. Makes me wonder if a dark complexioned equally stunning man would have garnered the same kind of attention.

An interesting stem of the chaiwala debates is very relevant: when doing street photography, what line of ethics do we follow? Did this young man give permission that he be photographed? For street photography buffs, if someone is in a public space, it’s alright to photograph them. Others fiercely guard a person’s right to forbid a photographer to take their photograph. This particular debate has grey areas; it’s not black or white, because after all we are photographed in shaadis and functions, with videos being made of our plates laden withqorma. Is that acceptable but this is not? Worth a conversation.

If Pakistanis want to glam up their timelines with the photograph of this stunning young man, so be it. Each one of us has different reasons and intent. Let’s not try to be mind-readers and assume that everyone who shared it is fickle or shallow.

As for the chaiwala, already people are offering him modelling assignments and lead roles in TV serials, thus he by now must have an idea that he has caused some kind of a stir. His giddying rise to fame and the media spotlights will blind him for a while, mess with his head, disrupt the comforting status quo of life as he knows it, and give him unrealistic hopes and ambitions. The hashtag #chaiwala would have already started losing the trend by the time the bullet of his fame hits him. We will all move on towards other trends in a matter of minutes or hours. But that’s just how life is.

Nonetheless, what remains irrefutable is this: nothing unites the Pakistani nation like chai does. So here’s to chai, and to the chaiwala, and to the dangerous but alluring power of social media.

http://blogs.tribune.com.pk/story/41981/why-i-shared-the-chaiwalas-picture/

 

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