The nouveau riche, the valley of ashes

Girls from good families must marry by the rules in Pakistan as well

By Dr Ishrat Lindblad

“Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer do/I’m half crazy, all for the love of you/It won’t be a stylish marriage/For I can’t afford a carriage…”: the familiar words of this children’s rhyme neatly encapsulate one of the main themes in The Great Gatsby; the conflict between an idealised love and a crassly materialistic world.

Baz Luhrmann’s recent film version of Scott Fitzgerald’s classic story of the corruption of the “American Dream” has hit the headlines as one of the most-talked about movies this year, but what does this story have to do with us? A great deal, it would seem, for classic works can outlive their original contexts and make us see our own world afresh.

Leonardo DiCaprio as Jay Gatsby, Joel Edgerton as Daisy Buchanan’s husband Tom and Elizabeth Debicki as Jordan Baker. Photos: Bazmark Film III Pty Limited

First of all take Daisy, who like our well-brought up girls from “good families”, is the aristocratic Southern belle in Fitzgerald’s novel who has to abide by the rules of her “East Egg” family. She has to marry a wealthy, aristocratic, top university-educated man who has won their approval. She is not capable of giving a “true answer” like the innocent Daisy in the above-mentioned rhyme. She cannot say: “We’ll run away on a summer’s day/On a bicycle made for two”. Why should her parents care that their daughter is weeping before the wedding with Tom Buchanan as she reads a letter from her beloved Gatsby, telling her that he has devoted his life to deserving her?

Even the contrast between the landed East Egg families with their elegance, good taste and leisure and the newly rich families who have had to work hard to amass their wealth is too easily identified in our own society and the way the people who consider themselves to have “good breeding” look down upon the nouveau riche: “Who on earth do they think they are?”

Then we have the “Valley of Ashes” in the book — a veritable industrial wasteland where the poor people try to make a living for themselves while millionaires drive by at a crazy speed through the dirt and the litter in their super-luxury cars, showing no awareness whatsoever of the men and women whom they ruthlessly exploit.

In our world today, it is only too easy to find frustrated poor men like the garage mechanic, George Wilson, and his wife Myrtle… people of whose deaths we read in our newspapers every day and try to forget as fast as we can. Are we so different from Tom Buchanan and Daisy who solve problems by refusing to get involved and simply moving away to another neighbourhood?

And Gatsby himself? The extravagant drunken parties that he throws and the criminal means he has embraced in order to amass the wealth he knows he needs to be able to woo Daisy, is all too easily recognised.

Especially ironic is the fact that prohibition in the 1920s could not stop the American elite from becoming drunk any more than it can stop us from indulging in similar excesses. Gatsby’s dream leads to corruption — a symbol perhaps for the shattered dream of the founding fathers of America. This country was also established in the name of a dream, but where are we today? Are we not becoming as decadent as the characters in Fitzgerald’s novel?

A few honest observers who believe in moral values and try to keep a distance, like Nick Carraway, the narrator of Gatsby’s story, often become disillusioned with what they see and decide to opt out and like him, go west!

Finally we have the compelling symbol of the eyes of Dr TJ Eckleburg: in reality a derelict billboard, but for poor mechanic George Wilson the all-seeing eyes of a transcendent power. George uses the language of the fundamentalists, telling his unfaithful wife, Myrtle, that God sees her sin and will punish her. When she runs out of their home in desperation and is driven over and dies, Wilson convinces himself he is God’s instrument and goes out to seek vengeance on her lover. Daisy’s husband Tom Buchanan has lied to George in order to protect himself and believing this, the mechanic goes out to first shoot Gatsby and then himself.

And, to end on a frivolous note, consider the hellish heat that drives the characters into a frenzy as they confront each other in the climactic scene in a luxury hotel. Haven’t we all felt desperate when the temperature hits 40 degrees in the shade and the electricity fails yet again?

Author Dr Ishrat Lindblad is settled in Sweden but visits Pakistan on a regular basis. She taught English literature at the Department of English, Stockholm University, from 1976 until her retirement in 2007. During a period of sabbatical leave in the 1990s and after her retirement she has worked part-time as principal at The Lyceum in Karachi.

F Scott Fitzgerald, Munir Niazi, and the illusion of progress

The last line of The Great Gatsby resonates vividly with a Munir Niazi couplet

By Amir Jafri

Pakistani poet Munir Niazi was born about the time American novelist F Scott Fitzgerald died. And while the two men shared little in terms of geography and culture, they had in common, in my view, a certain aesthetic, a bleak worldview, a romantic notion, and a precocious talent for creating vivid imagery with a few words.

Fitzgerald’s novel, The Great Gatsby, has received renewed interest with Baz Luhrmann’s film and it is perhaps worth highlighting the loaded last line of the book because it bears similarities to something written closer to home. Consider:

So, we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.

This is about as heartbreaking a coda as has ever been delivered at the culmination of a tale about a man’s driving material ambition in the service of his unrequited love. In this case, that character is Jay Gatsby.

The fundamental existential paradox of toil without redemptive hope, the human predicament of hovering between the badlands of predestination and freewill, the ultimate existential morass, all hang timorously in the alliterative resonance of that summing up.

For our existence as individuals, F Scott Fitzgerald uses the metaphor of the illusion of progress, the futility of motion, of our life as nothing but toil on the tireless tread-machine of time which, like a bad dream, moves a bit faster than our efforts to gain distance. Inevitably and poignantly it throws us back constantly, and reduces life to little more than a vapid, almost nauseous chore.

It is an instance of curious serendipity that Munir Niazi uses in one of his maqtaas (the last couplet of the Urdu ghazal) an idea similar to this one employed by Fitzgerald in the last line of The Great Gatsby.

Munir is mulk par aasaib kaa saaya hai ya kiya hai

Kay harkat taiz-tar hai, aur safar aahista aahista

Fitzgerald gives us the image of individual lives as boats thrown back by tsunamic waves as a symbol of the futile struggles of the individual. On the other hand, Niazi chooses an otherworldly image and frames it in a broader, national context. Niazi uses the disturbing supernatural images of shadows and phantoms under whose spell his beloved country has fallen. (He wrote umpteen love poems for Pakistan).

Fitzgerald’s individual, in spite of his grueling drudge, is persistently thrown back in the course of his life’s journey. The journey of Niazi’s dear country is more of a trance-like stupor. The words aahista aahista give us the eerie sense that we are constantly on the move, but really on our way to nowhere.

While Fitzgerald’s expression is beautified by the thudding alliteration of “beat,” “boat,” “borne back,” Niazi’s couplet draws its aesthetic mojo from the hissing conspiratorial alliteration of is, aasaib, saaya, safar, aashista aahista, not to mention the venomous zing of tez.

As the excitement of our 2013 election ebbs so does — aahista aahista — the exhilaration that fleetingly touched the nation. The all-too familiar aasaib of nepotism, greed, corruption, thievery, wild spendings, abject poverty start to rear their heads again with the news of million-dollar coat with which the prime minister of one of the poorest nations in the world will adorn himself on his coronation, the scandal at the milk plant in Lahore, the shameless bargaining for parliamentary seats and other cushy jobs, the jostling for lucrative situations, the all-too depressing quid pro quos, the endless blame game.

So, we vote on, desperately hoping against devastating hypocrisy, returning wearily into the lap of the same — as Jalib put it — Zardaris, Mazaris, Madaaris, Jatois, Chaudrys, Pagaarhas, Qureshis, Makhdooms, Khattaks, Khans, Shahs, Sharifs, and not so shareefs, on and on goes the circus.

After completing his doctoral work in Rhetoric at The University of Oklahoma, author Amir H. Jafri has taught at various universities in the US and Pakistan. Currently, he teaches at COMSATS in Islamabad. His book Honour Killing: Ritual; Dilemma; Understanding was published by Oxford University Press.

Beautiful losers

Baz Luhrmann’s cinematic interpretation of The Great Gatsby is beautiful but perhaps too perfect

By Tooba Masood

We loved Baz Luhrmann’s Moulin Rouge not just because of its jeweled tones and the chemistry between Nicole Kidman and Ewan McGregor but because it was an unpredictable delight. In his latest cinematic offering, director Luhrmann delivers another lush, bejeweled spectacular with his attempt to interpret F Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gastby. But something isn’t quite right.

The plot is simple enough but it is Fitzgerald’s exposé of the reckless rich and the portrait of a time that drives it forward.

It opens with Nick Carraway (Tobey Maguire) moving into a cottage next to the mysterious palatial home that Jay Gatsby (Leonardo DiCaprio) has bought to be opposite his long-lost love Daisy (Carey Mulligan). He hopes to win her back but she is a married woman now. Gatsby’s formula is to throw mad parties in the hope that Daisy will turn up one day. Nick accepts an invitation to attend one of these soirees where he (and we) meet Gatsby (around half an hour into the film and worth the wait).

Gatsby was rumoured to be a German spy, an assassin, a millionaire bootlegger. He was made of new money, something Daisy’s husband, a nasty, brutish old money Ivy-league graduate, Tom Buchanan (Joel Edgerton), detested. What Buchanan was unaware of was that Gatsby had courted Daisy as an officer in the First World War. But he was unable to marry her then because he was penniless. Gatsby gets Nick to help him reconnect with Daisy. He wants to recreate the past. And is where the story starts to fall apart.

Don’t get me wrong, it is still a pleasure to watch this film and worth the money. DiCaprio carries off the Brooks Brothers suits with aplomb. No one else can give pink linen such machismo. The fountains of Moët & Chandon delight. The pulse quickens, we are drawn into the party scene by the systolic thump of Jay-Z’s No Church in the Wild. And where did that lighting come from? Why aren’t our lives bathed in that light?

Pace and literal interpretation are the two major pitfalls Luhrmann has been unable to sidestep. Unless you are a blind Gatsby fan who wanted the film to be exactly like the book which you re-read before watching the movie, you might be a little irritated with the tempo. It moves a tad slow because every scene is covered as is.

It doesn’t help that the romance between DiCaprio’s Gatsby and Mulligan’s Daisy feels like a limp towelette. Oh, she looks at him all misty-eyed and his gaze is piercing — but when it came to connecting, these two characters would have been closer standing on the opposite shores of the lake that separated their mansions. Their individual performances shone — in isolation.

You will not mind this disappointment, however, as DiCaprio’s performance more than compensates. He is the consummate Gatsby, insecure, inscrutable, blinded by his inexplicable love for Daisy. His golden-jowled grimace is only as perfected as the blonde cowl that strays from his Adonic helmet as he stifles his frustration.

Special mention must be given to Elizabeth Debicki who plays Daisy’s friend Jordan Baker in all her imperious leggy hauteur. She, more than Mulligan, captures the sashay, flip of the wrist, frenetic flip-flopping and lanky larking around of the socialites of the 1920s. Tobey Maguire plays a whiny Nick Carraway, the story’s watchful narrator. But he does manage to summon our sympathies. I forgot to mention Amitabh Bachchan. He was there for all of 15 minutes as a Jewish gambler who has lunch with Nick and Gatsby at a barber shop. Yes, that was it.

The film’s triumph, though, is its dirty, nasty, brilliant soundtrack in which popular contemporary tracks have been re-spun, shot through with Jazz and gashed with Goth. Techno is laced with trumpet and rebels the likes of Jack White have been given free rein to beat out ballads such as Love is Blindness. You will keep coming back.

Published in The Express Tribune, Sunday Magazine, June 9^th, 2013.

Like Express Tribune Magazine on Facebook, follow @ETribuneMag on Twitter to stay informed and join the conversation.

If Sindh is famous for the rilli, Kasur is known for its khais. But unlike in Sindh, the artisans of Kasur are struggling to keep their dying craft alive. They are getting some help from interior designer and freelance journalist Iram Ansari who has made it her goal to help revive and preserve this tradition and also empower the artisans.

Ansari is a member of the Daachi Foundation, a non-profit organisation set up to revive and promote the arts and crafts of Pakistan. When the foundation was established, each committee member had to adopt a craft, which they were then responsible for revitalising, protecting and monetising. Ansari picked the khais. “I simply felt that the khais of Kasur was a totally neglected lot,”  she says.

Khais, a form of light blanket, was created during the Mughal era to meet the demand for cotton blankets. It was woven by hand in village households and would take days to create. One blanket consists of four parts which are later woven together to make a chockra, the size of a bedsheet. The most popular colours are deep yellow, red, black, blue and green (white being regarded as neutral).

Ansari had believed that the khais has potential only if marketed properly. But when she went looking for khais artisans in Kasur, she found only one. The elderly man was the only one weaving by hand. His sons preferred to work on machines and refused to learn the craft from their father. This virtually spelled the end for khais-making.

Ansari spent almost a year researching the weavers of Kasur to discover what was going wrong. “[The craft] needed new design[s], a new direction. Most importantly, it needed to be marketed the right way,” she says. So, the first thing she did was change the colour palette altogether. The weavers were using a traditional combination of bright colours with the same old designs and there was no variety.

Ansari’s plan had three phases, the first involved getting the artisans to weave khais in thematic shades for winter, summer, autumn and spring collections. Working closely with the artisan, Ansari would first choose the colours and then they would both experiment with different designs and combinations. The idea was to encourage the weaver learn new designs and techniques.

When Ansari had a chockra made in a certain colour scheme for the final collection, she realised that it could also be used in a variety of other products. She went out and bought lap trays, tea cloths, napkins, cosmetic bags and cushion covers and showed them to the artisans. This helped them think beyond the blanket in to entirely different product lines.

She also realised that she could involve other artisans in the different stages of making these products. “I showed my own lap tray to a carpenter and trained him to make more like these while using the khais as a cover of the bean bag at the back.” The carpenter was happy to learn and it soon proved to be a side-business for him since it did not take too much of his time. Similarly a tailor was shown how to stitch the small cosmetic bags out of the khais provided by the artisans.

Marketing was a challenge. The only promotion that the artisans got was from peddling their wares on bicycles. They would roam around the streets of nearby cities, shouting out to customers, trying to strike a bargain. Ansari helped them jazz up their packaging by putting the finished product in cellophane lined with colourful jute thread tassels.

The artisans were pushed to display their work at the Daachi Mela. “The products sold like hot cakes,” says Ansari. “They were picked up by craft lovers and people who were interested in keeping this ancient tradition alive.”

The success was encouraging and all those involved in the project, the carpenter, the tailor and the weaver felt a sense of accomplishment. “By making these mats, runners and tea cosies I have realised how interesting it is to try new ideas and how I can implement them in my everyday work,” says Shahbaz who works in upholstery, quilting and drapery. “Things that we thought were useless are being used in an innovative way.” This extra work has made it possible to save for a UPS that will help him continue work during power outages.

Even for carpenter Mohammad Bashir, who has been making furniture for 40 years, the work has been fruitful. “For me, it is like a side business and boosts my household budget,” he says. “And I thoroughly enjoyed using different materials to make a small useful product like a lap tray.” He enjoys working with the team and often gives Ansari ideas on how they can improve their sales, evidence that the project not only stimulates old artisans but also educates those who work with them.

Cushion: Rs1,000

Teacosy: Rs800

Handbag: Out of stock

Runner: Rs1,600

Toiletries Bag: Rs1,600 (set of 2) 

AVAILABLE WITH IRAM ANSARI 0333-4245834

Published in The Express Tribune, Sunday Magazine, June 23^rd, 2013.

Like Express Tribune Magazine on Facebook, follow @ETribuneMag on Twitter to stay informed and join the conversation.

Someone yells for the kidnappers to come up. A scrawny gawker is pushed aside. Arooj starts walking through the field of elephant grass in her limp lawn suit and black leggings. Three men leap out. One of them grabs her and yanks her hair. Another hoists her up. A donkey cart trundles by with a farmer and his wife who curiously look at the scene unfolding. Someone snickers that maybe that should be the getaway car.

The team of about ten people has been standing in the heat in Bagh-e-Korangi since 2pm, shooting the re-enactment of a kidnapping scene for one of the major channels. The mock kidnapping will add flavour to one of its crime shows. None of the actors are really paid. They’re just doing it because they want to be on TV.

(Top) A crew shoots a scene on Korangi road with the cameraman hanging out of the window of the Suzuki. (Bottom) A television channel’s director explains the action he wants for a kidnapping scene shot in Bagh-e-Korangi with Arooj (in pink). Photo By Mohammad Kashif (Kt)

Two-minute re-enactments of crime scenes were adopted as a technique by Pakistani news channels about four years ago. The format was so popular that the ratings went through the roof. Programme after programme started shooting them and with it created demand for these actors, who are considered worse than C-class talent as a senior cameraman with a television channel put it. He should know, he’s shot many of these scenes and is the unofficial director of photography at the channel.

“They come from everywhere: far-flung areas of Karachi such as Malir, Landhi etc. Basically they are college-going students, government employees or unemployed people,” explains Abdul Karim Yousuf, who is a producer with Azaad film production. “They don’t have any ego issues so that is positive. But sometimes it is difficult to explain scenes to them as they are not trained.”

These actors barely have any formal education. They are “mun kholay bhand types” (open your mouth and make a mess) as the cameraman describes them — actors who are not even required to deliver dialogue, but fill in as the crowd for a washing powder ad or put bums on seats for a morning show audience.

(Bottom right) Hafeez Ali of H&I Productions in his office off Baloch expressway.  Photo By Mohammad Kashif (Kt)

According to one estimate there are about 250 to 300 actors of this ilk in Karachi. They pay about Rs3,000 to register with an ‘agent’ who is little more than a sleazy middleman in an apartment. There are four major talent coordinators or agents in Karachi. In return the agent liaises with the television channels and sends carloads of the extras for the shoots that need bodies. The television channels give the agent one cheque and it is up to him to pay back his actors. This does not often happen, especially with the newbies. For example, actor Ali’s talent coordinator once faked his signature and took his cheque.

The women get a particularly rough deal. They are expected to ‘audition’ in backrooms and there is no protection on the sets. The women, young and old, enter a world where there is no such thing as saying ‘no’. Most of the women just put this abuse down to the price they have to pay. There are only rarely cases like Maya* (not her real name) who quit. “I reached out to a coordinator through an advertisement in a newspaper. The guy was really dishonest and after all the work I did he kept the money,” she says, adding euphemistically: “I was not comfortable with the environment and the demands as well.”

The men in the industry have an exceptionally poor opinion of the women. “Ye larkian chowrangi kaat ke ai hain,” says the senior cameraman (they’ve taken a short-cut). He insists that the girls and young women are happy to do anything it takes to get on TV. “Anything!” he stresses. He insists, though, that he has never taken advantage of anyone because of one clear deterrent: his reputation. “Plus my boss would bury me alive if he ever heard that I had done anything,” he explains. “And then, if one of these extras ever got famous and complained of sexual harassment…”

But the reality is that these actors seldom become famous. At the most, if a young woman is exceptionally good-looking, she may go on to do a few advertisements. But unless you land a big-ticket act, these jobs don’t pay. “Different channels pay different amounts,” says actor Ali. “[…] pays the lowest as I only got Rs500. However, [… ] is good with the money and they usually pay up to Rs3,000.”

The one success story that is cited is of Ali Zafar who started his career with a role in a commercial and went on to do music videos. Given his talent though, he was said to be paid Rs20,000 for his first appearance.

But money never really is the motivation for these actors. They are obsessed with coming on television and are willing to go to any lengths to make it happen. Dilkash, for example, moved from Hyderabad to Karachi, leaving behind her two children and husband when she was picked for one television drama serial. “I was living alone in Karachi for around five to six months till my husband was transferred,” she says. “This was the most difficult time for me and made me want to give up. But my passion for acting gave me the strength.”

The actors are even, in many cases, expected to bring their own costumes. Khurram Abbas found he was always cast as the policeman. “It used to be a lot of trouble every morning to borrow a police uniform and as I was always landing such roles I finally went and had my own stitched,” he says. “So now I own a personal wardi!”

The reward, explains actor Ahmed Faraz, is being recognised in the street. He has been acting for about eight years now after realising that this industry was the one place where he could work out his fantasies of becoming a pilot, doctor, gangster, survivor.

As the pay is low and erratic, most of the men have part-time work elsewhere. Dr Faisal Masood works in nutrition at the KCHS Medical Centre in Karachi. “Acting is not my profession but my passion,” he says. “I am only able to work part-time and can’t take too many roles due to my [job].” He is still one of the relatively educated actors and even invested in training from the Arts Council of Pakistan, UNESCO and Eveready Institute of Performing Arts.

Generally, though, the quality of acting is wooden at best. “Not everyone knows how to cry,” sniffs Hafeez Ali of H&I Productions. He is an agent who says he represents 30 actors. “I’ll show you how to cry at the drop of a hat.” Hafeez still has some training having started working with PTV as an extra more than a decade ago. In 1996, he had a walk-on role and was paid Rs225 for his efforts. Those were different days and even the producers and directors were cut from a different cloth. “Previously, [when you needed extras] they’d grab four friends from here, four friends from there,” he explains. Today he will get requests for at least 12 extras in a week. He breaks it down: Three policemen, two ruffians, two heroes…

While extras are needed for morning shows as well of late, the bulk of them are used in the crime shows. As they are shooting in Bagh-e-Korangi, the violence seems almost real in the kidnapping scene. The man who grabs Arooj’s hair and face does it with a disturbing amount of zest and vigour. Arooj doesn’t flinch either. Indeed, it is telling that the re-enactment of the crime scene, in particular, has become so popular.

It was in it that the rape scene became acceptable as it is now dressed up as ‘news’. “If you put this in a drama it would be fahaash [vulgar],” says the senior cameraman. The people in the industry explain it away with a pinch of pop psychology: they are providing society catharsis. But for the actors who recreate these scenes, especially the girls, an undercurrent of sadomasochism is unmistakable. It is hard to tell if acting is an escape for them from the reality of their lives or if they really believe it will bring them the fame and glory they dream of.

Published in The Express Tribune, Sunday Magazine, June 23^rd, 2013.

Like Express Tribune Magazine on Facebook, follow @ETribuneMag on Twitter to stay informed and join the conversation.

Parsi girls become women the day they wear a sari. The sari perawanu or sari-wearing ceremony is a rite of passage. At the centre of the celebration are five married women who help the girl wear a gara or sari for the first time. They tie a small knot of rice, a symbol of fertility, into the corner of the pallu before sprinkling it with rose water. If tradition is identity, then what you wear is one of its clearest markers.

“The most distinctive item of Parsi women’s clothing from the third quarter of the nineteenth century was undoubtedly the gara,” write Shilpa Shah and Tulsi Vatsal in the introductory chapter of the book Peonies & Pagodas: Embroidered Parsi Textiles from the Tapi Collection (2010). The book traces the origins of the gara — imported from China into India by Parsis between 1830 and 1865 — and its reinvention in modern times. The history comes to life with oral accounts of how different Parsi families came to acquire garas. So for example, novelist Bapsi Sidhwa inherited three garas from her mother which she passed on to two of her daughters. “One of them is most unusual — it has coloured birds and flowers all over the purple sari and looks stunning,” she told the authors.

Eighty-two-year-old Nina Russi Wania inherited a 100-year-old gara. PHOTO: ESSA MALIK/EXPRESS

The gara’s history is shrouded in mystery but it is generally believed to date to the Zoroastrian migration from Iran to India during the British rule in the Subcontinent. In the mid-1800s, Parsi merchants began trading in China. In his book, Indians in China (2005), Madhavi Thampi mentions how they were called baitouren or ‘whiteheads’ in the Chinese port of Canton because of their distinctive headgear. As the numbers of Parsi settlers in Canton grew, many of them were hired as middlemen by the East India Company.

Along with sending raw cotton to China, the Parsi traders of India also acted as a bridge for the silk brocades and embroidery from Chinese pherias or craftsmen, according to KE Eduljee of the Zoroastrian Heritage website. This aesthetic made its way on to the sari. One can only assume that the Chinese technique was copied in places such as Surat in India where there was a steady flow of Parsis from China. “Chinese-style embroidery was also used on other items of clothing such as jhablas (tunics) and ijars (pyjamas),” according to Peonies & Pagodas. Although initially worn by upper-class Parsi women, “over time these embroidered garments spread to other layers of Parsi society”.

This is how symbols of pagodas and pavilions and Chinamen came to form the resplendent borders of the garas. Eighty-two-year-old Nina Russi Wania, who lives in Karachi, inherited a Chinese-embroidered gara from her mother. “Earlier on, they were especially made for members of the family in India,” she told The Express Tribune, adding that the style was to wear them with white blouses.

As expected, the Indian craftsmen who copied the Chinese embroidery began to insert their own particular visual vocabulary. Demand for their work went up as local products were cheaper and it took too long for the orders to come in from China.

Since then India has come to be known as the epicentre for the Parsi gara. “[Gara embroidery] is very popular, mainly in cities like Mumbai, Delhi and Hyderabad,” Rayomand Maneckshaw of Revival Sarees told The Express Tribune over email from Mumbai. His company produces hand-embroidered saris with work so fine that it is almost impossible to distinguish the front from the back. Along with Maneckshaw, other designers such as Kersi Dubash of Nazakat Collections and Dinaz Phiroze Bhada, who custom designs garas, have also made a name in Parsi circles.

Although garas may have originated in India, they have travelled far and wide. Dr Don Johnson, a specialist on South Asian textiles, exhibited his collection, “Beyond Peacocks and Paisleys: Handcrafted Textiles of India and its Neighbours,” at the Goldstein Museum of Design, University of Minnesota, in 2011. Famous Mumbai researcher and teacher, the late Mani Kamerkar, played a major role in influencing his interest in Parsi textiles. “When Eleanor Zelliot, a retired professor of Indian history at Carleton College, was going to India, among other things, to see Mani, I asked her if she could ask Mani if it was possible to get some samples of Parsi embroidery,” Dr Johnson told The Express Tribune over email. He had met Mani during her visit to the Twin Cities several years earlier and she had been “highly impressed with the various South Asian things in [his] apartment.” Mani actually “hacked” off five pieces of gara embroidery from some of her old saris which Dr Johnson added to the display of his exhibition.

Given how sought-after Indian garas are, business has been good for Indian designer Kersi Dubash who has been visiting Pakistan since 1996 to display his collections in cities such as Karachi, Lahore, Peshawar and Islamabad. When the news of his arrival breaks in the Parsi community of Karachi, women prepare to splurge on what they consider to be the best choice for any formal event.

For the December 2012 centenary celebrations of the Banu Mandal in Karachi, an association formed to help the poor, almost every Parsi woman was seen elegantly draped in her jewel-toned gara. Among them was Nina Russi Wania who wore the badam (almond) patterned, 100-year-old gara that was presented to her by Gulbai Nusserwanji Mehta, founder of the Karachi Zarthosti Banu Mandal. The heirloom was passed on to her after the demise of Mehta’s daughter.

With the passage of time, the Chinese-inspired gara technique has undergone major transformation. KE Eduljee mentions the karolia gara with its spidery flowers, the pink and yellow polka dotted Kanda-papeta (onions and potatoes) gara and the chakla-chakli gara, with the juxtaposed birds are some of the more popular designs today. And while traditional garas came in shades of magenta, royal blue, turquoise and red, trendy Parsis today prefer bold, black garas with matching coloured blouses.

Unlike original Parsi saris that were made on resham (silk), “embroidery is done today on crepe or preferably on georgette, using either satin stitch or French knots with silk threads,” explains Rayomand Maneckshaw. Dinaz Bhada adds that georgette is preferred today as the fabric is lighter and easier to carry. A classic gara is so heavy that it is a challenge to walk in it.

However, when it comes to motifs, much hasn’t changed. Birds continue to feature prominently, especially roosters. “They frequently appear in most of our designs as they are considered a symbol of light and help ward off evil,” says Bhada. Other birds include cranes, considered birds of paradise, sparrows and swallows. Roses, jasmine and chrysanthemums are also intricately woven, usually 30 of them to represent the 30 angels for each day of the month, according to the Zoroastrian Heritage site.

“The trend has veered towards textiles with ‘value-added’ surface ornamentation, particularly those worked on with embroidery,” writes Shipla Shah in the concluding chapter of Peonies & Pagodas, explaining how the gara has turned into a “new fashion classic must-have.”  Tracing the revival of the gara in India, she highlights the contribution made by the Ratan Tata Industrial Institute in Mumbai that provides services to repair and restore old saris. Furthermore, she credits Rayomand Maneckshaw’s work and that of Farzeen Daver-Boomla, daughter of the widely credited 1960s gara revivalist Naju Davar, who has expanded her business outside the community in Mumbai.

“You don’t have to be a Parsi to wear a gara,” says Bhada. The machine-stitched garas can range between Rs24,000 to Rs40,000 and can take up to 20 days to make. The hand-stitched ones come with a higher price tag. “A fully embroidered hand-stitched sari could cost more than Rs100,000, while crudely made copies can be made for a fraction of that price,” says Maneckshaw. Some heirlooms in Mumbai are worth up to Rs300,000 — a small price to pay for a timeless piece of art.

“Gara embroidery is an important part of our tradition and extends to our respect for embroidery from other cultures,” says textile revival expert Professor Shehnaz Ismail, the dean of design at the Indus Valley School of Art and Architecture in Karachi. She asserts that people still continue to make a living from this craft because of its profitable nature, although many are now engaging in replicating the designs via machine and computerised embroidery as it helps bring down the prices. “Gara embroidery is a sheer joy to look at and it is most certainly going to survive but shall likely cater to a very small niche.”

Wear it Parsi style:
If you buy a traditional gara, it’s best to wear it in the Parsi style to flaunt the embroidery in all its glory. Instead of bringing the end (the pallu) from behind and draping it over your blouse and torso, to hang in loose folds behind your left shoulder, bring it over the right shoulder and secure the folds to let it splay in the front. This way the front corner of the pallu will fall close to the hem.

Accessorise:

Refrain from wearing jewellery that will draw attention away from the gara. A string of pearls to compliment the white embroidery, will more than suffice.

As the ‘old’ style of draping the pallu over the head exposed only the left ear, Parsis back then wore a single ‘chandelier’ earring.

Published in The Express Tribune, Sunday Magazine, June 23^rd, 2013.

Like Express Tribune Magazine on Facebook, follow @ETribuneMag on Twitter to stay informed and join the conversation.

Tighten your seatbelts as Fast & Furious 6 prepares to crush any semblance of reality, this time with a giant tank. To raise the bar in the sixth instalment, the speedsters pull all the stops by embarking on a chase that screeches to a halt on the runway with a large aircraft, the Antonov AN-225, being blown to bits.

Written by Chris Morgan, Fast 6 shows the gang flexing their car muscles for a completely different reason. The theme of love and family reigns supreme as the speed-demons are persuaded by the buff Agent Hobbs (Dwayne Johnson) to come out of retirement. Their mission is to help capture the master criminal Owen Shaw (Luke Evans) and to rescue Dom’s ex-girlfriend Letty (Michelle Rodriguez) who was presumed dead in an earlier film. Owen and his team (including Letty) are trying to create a Nightshade device which can disable power in an entire region, which they intend to sell to the highest bidder. What are they promised in return for this alliance? Full pardons.

Although director Justin Lin challenges himself by trying to make the stunts as realistic as possible, they never cease to insult your intelligence. Dom’s (Vin Diesel) hair-raising leap off the roof of a moving car to rescue Letty during the attack of the tank is one of the many examples of madness that surface from time to time in the movie. However, to maintain sanity, some believable action sequences have also been spaced out strategically, especially the hand-to-hand combat between Letty and Riley (Gina Carano), Hobb’s sidekick, in the London Underground.

Along with the anticipated appearance of tanned beauties, who don’t disappoint with their well-toned bodies in tiny Daisy Dukes and bodycon dresses, one anxiously waits for the throbbing sound of the engine and fumes from the nitro injection to set the heart beating in synch with the speeding cars. The custom-designed sports cars have a new target to chase this time, intimidating, not because of their size but armour-plated front ends, that can throw any vehicle off the track with a single knock. The formidable tank also makes a bold entrance during one of the car chases and crushes every car that dares to challenge the beast.

Alongside the boneheaded entertainment and head-spinning car chases, the movie also guarantees moments of uncontrolled laughter with Tyrese Gibson joining forces with Paul Walker to steal the show with his supreme comic delivery. Also, if you’re a fan of Rita Ora then you’ll be pleasantly surprised by her cameo appearance as the head girl of a London racing crew. Before the movie concludes, it also establishes a clear link with Tokyo Drift by revealing the true face behind Han’s (Sung Kang) death — it’s Ian Shaw (Jason Statham).

Reality check! Fast and Furious 6 is still a notch above its predecessors and its sequel’s future seems bright with the promising teaser in the end credits.

Extreme schemes

The Italian Job

The original 1969 movie is the one to watch. It stars Michael Caine, who upon being released from jail gathers a team of bandits to rob a van full of gold. The movie involves one of the best car chases with Mini Coopers.

Gone in 60 seconds

The 2000 action film stars Nicolas Cage as a former car thief, forced to return to his trade to steal fifty specified cars for his crime boss Christopher Eccleston. In exchange, Christopher promises to spare his brother who had taken the contract but failed to fulfill it.

Drive

The 2011 crime movie stars Ryan Gosling who plays the role of a stuntman/mechanic who also has a secret job as a getaway driver for robberies. Despite isolating himself from everyone, he becomes emotionally attached to his neighbour, Carey Mulligan, and agrees to help her ex-con husband rob a pawn shop to pay off his debt.

Published in The Express Tribune, Sunday Magazine, June 30^th, 2013.

Like Express Tribune Magazine on Facebook, follow @ETribuneMag on Twitter to stay informed and join the conversation.

Where to get them:

Free at EPI centres across the country, public hospitals and dispensaries and at private hospitals and clinics.

Where to inject:

Dr Tabish Hazir at Children’s Hospital, Pakistan Institute of Medical Sciences, says it is important that all vaccines be injected by well-trained vaccinators. A slight mistake can cause serious complications such as haemorrhage, infections, damaged nerves etc. The BCG, a vaccine to prevent childhood tuberculosis, for example, needs to be injected with extra care. It should be injected strictly intradermally in the arm. It should form a permanent scar after eight to 12 weeks.

All others vaccines, expect OPV for polio which is administrated orally, are injected intramuscularly in the anterolateral aspect of the thigh. The side effects of these vaccines are minor, such as fever and swelling at the site of the injection, and are reported in few cases.

Strongly recommended vaccines:

Rotavirus: Rotavirus enters through the mouth and leads to the diarrhea bouts in infants aged up to six months. The vaccine is administered orally at ages two and four months.

Cost: Rs4,000

Chicken pox: The Varicella vaccine protects against chicken pox that results in rash, tiredness, headache, fever. Severe attack could lead to infected blisters, bleeding disorders, swelling of the brain or pneumonia. The first dose is given between 12 and 15 months; second dose is administered at four to six years of age. A second option is to administer the two doses three months apart to children between the ages six and 13 years. If older than 13 years, the child is given the two doses a month apart.

Cost: Rs1,800

Hepatitis A: Spread through contaminated food and water or direct contact, the virus leads to fever, stomach pain, loss of appetite, fatigue, vomiting, jaundice (yellowing of skin and eyes) and dark urine. If complications occur, you could be dealing with liver failure, joint pain, kidney, pancreatic, and blood disorders.

Cost: Rs1,350

Measles, Mumps and Rubella (German Measles): Characterised by rashes, swollen salivary glands and pregnancy miscarriages and foetal congenital defects. The MMR vaccine that is given in two doses: at age 12 to 15 months and 4 to 6 years.

Cost: Rs587

Meningococcal disease: Bacteria that can lead to meningitis or blood infection. The vaccine is given at 11 or 12 years, with a booster at age 16 for kids 13 to 18 years old who haven’t been previously vaccinated.

Cost: Rs800

Influenza: The flu vaccine is developed each year after the WHO studies the five or six epidemic influenza strains around June and July, says paediatrician Dr Sohail Thobani with South City Hospital. The vaccine hits the markets in September each year.

Cost: Rs560

(All prices subject to change and always consult your doctor or paediatrician before making any medical decisions for your child).

Published in The Express Tribune, Sunday Magazine, June 30^th, 2013.

Like Express Tribune Magazine on Facebook, follow @ETribuneMag on Twitter to stay informed and join the conversation.

Putting pen to paper can be exciting if the paper is handmade and embossed with dainty, pink flowers. It was for me at least when I received a diary as a gift from Nepal. That is a country that takes pride in greener papermaking — a process that Pakistan would do good to explore for the sake of preserving its forests.

The production of handmade paper is all the rage in South Asian countries such as India and Nepal. It is exquisite, different for its unique strength and durability and most importantly, it’s eco-friendly. The paper is made from natural fibre and does not require the sacrifice of trees or the use of chemicals.

In Nepal, handmade paper is made from the fibres of the Lokta (Daphne), a shrub species, and other natural fibres. For the Lokta paper, the fibrous inner bark of the high-elevation, forest shrub, also found in Pakistan’s northern areas, is used. The plant is harvested without damaging the main roots so it regenerates naturally every two to three years.

The catchphrase ‘Handmade in Nepal’ therefore speaks of humanitarianism, social responsibility, social ethics and resource sustainability. The state has turned this centuries-old craft into a national art, by reviving the indigenous skill that now supports thousands of poor families. The international demand for this quality paper has soared since, making it a sustainable industry in Nepal.

Unlike in Nepal, only the environment-conscious people in Pakistan know about the boons of handmade paper. The industry here continues to make paper from the pulp of wood, persistently ignoring the fundamental economic problem of scarce resources. And despite its market potential, handmade paper has failed to garner support for the green process in the country.

However, for all the eco-conscious consumers in Pakistan, there is now a ray of hope — handmade paper has made its eco-friendly debut in Lahore with Paper Zone. The company has been supporting eco-friendly paper for 15 years and has established its production unit in Gujranwala with the aim of empowering low-income and disadvantaged communities in the process.

“My workforce is very passionate. They put their hearts and souls into making the paper and this shows through our product quality,” says the owner of Paper Zone, Mumtaz Ahmad Baig. By introducing new technology and reviving the indigenous skill, the company hopes to boost the self-esteem of the workers which is successfully reflected in their attractive gift boxes, baskets, notebooks, home decor crafts and other paper-based items.

The process of handmade papermaking involves industrial and agriculture waste being turned into
exquisite sheets of paper. Paper Zone produces a large collection of homemade paper in cotton, jute, silk and plant recycled forms. They purchase cotton recyclables (tailor cutting) from scavengers, around 500kg to make 10,000 sheets of paper, and sugarcane waste directly from juice shops. Other recyclable items used are old gunny bags, rice and wheat straw, rice paddy husk, hemp bush, silk waste and corn and onion skin. Basically anything that has fibre.

“I’m honoured to be part of this eco-friendly way of producing paper that is tree free. I began by learning how to crush cotton recyclables to make the cotton-based paper,” says Naeem Butt, who has been working for Paper Zone for the past 13 years.

First the rags or cloth fibre are compressed and converted into fine pulp using a blending machine. Dyes and textured materials such as straw, hemp, silk and  jute fibre are  then added to produce different kinds of paper.

Interestingly enough, biodegradable paper can also be made using kitchen waste. To explain the process, several individuals have come forward to post useful online tutorials in a bid to support globally growing environmental responsibility. In Pakistan, however, homemade paper is appreciated more for its aesthetic value and less for its eco-friendliness. Previously when Paper Zone was promoting its stationery and handicrafts for their ethical value, very few showed
support. They then turned to aesthetics instead to promote their products, creating a niche market for themselves.

But since homemade paper is expensive to produce as opposed to the conventional method, it hasn’t been able to root itself in the papermaking industry.

Incapable of producing paper on a large scale, the eco-friendly technique requires one sheet to be produced at a time, making the process time consuming, labour intensive and consequently more expensive. It is therefore unlikely that the fledgling industry will take off any time soon.

Published in The Express Tribune, Sunday Magazine, June 30^th, 2013. Like Express Tribune Magazine on Facebook, follow @ETribuneMag on Twitter to stay informed and join the conversation.

The sinfully caloric crunch of Nimco owes its addictive allure to dough ground with red chili, salt and turmeric. Off-set a mouthful of it with a sip of scalding hot, milky sweet chai for the ultimate afternoon teatime experience.

Today any bakery worth its salt will offer nimco, but these are all imitations of the real deal. The original nimco-makers are located off Bohri Bazaar’s Albert Street with a storefront that snobbishly declares that they have no branches in Karachi.

This store opened in the 1950s after Haji Muhammad Jan migrated from New Delhi to Pakistan in 1948. Knowing that his wife’s recipe of Arwi kay pattay would become an instant hit, he opened Saltish Snacks stocked with savouries out of his wife’s cookbook. The Arwi or Colocassia leaves (also known as a form of Taro) are stacked, rolled into spirals with a spiced chickpea paste, steamed and then fried to make patra or Arwi pattay ke roll, the famous Gujarati Farsan. For nimco, though, once the chili- and turmeric-infused dough has gone through the relentless shredder, the snack is deep fried with Arwi leaves, peas and peanuts.

The store was rechristened Nimco Corner, however, as “the name [Saltish Snacks] didn’t roll off the tongue,” recalls his grandson Siraj Jan, who now runs the iconic venture. He is quick to stress that they are Nimco with a ‘c’ as the ‘impersonators’ use a ‘k’.

Today you will find a long line of loyalists picking and choosing dal mot, mixed nimco, khewra, namak paray, all firmly packed in the signature yellow bags, sporting the symbol of a long-necked porcelain teapot beside their brand name in fiery red.

According to Siraj, they entertain approximately 1,000 customers a day.

“Our Parsi customers shop early in the morning, before the area gets too crowded,” explains Siraj. “In the afternoon, we see a lot of Bohra tradesmen coming over for a bite.”

In addition to nimco, you won’t be able to resist their samosas, pakoras and jalebis which are sold round-the-clock. At many other stores you can buy them piping hot straight out of the pitch black wok. After the initial hard caramelised crack, the jalebis do a little dance on your tongue and the sugary syrup floods out of the coil onto the edges of your palette.

Here at Bohri Bazaar, though, as with the rest of the items, Nimco’s jalebis are prepared in the kitchen, which is a floor above the shop. Behind the shelves that house their 35 products, is a little room with a busy lifter. It tirelessly sends down Nimco packets and fresh jalebis, samosas and pakoras so no customer is turned away.

There have been advantages and drawbacks to keeping one store and not branching out. Prestige is retained and overheads are kept on a tight leash. “My grandfather used to tell us that we haven’t opened this shop to mint money but to serve people,” says Siraj. He had wanted to expand but the family was adamant.

Nimco’s exclusivity is embedded in its antiquity. What Nimco with a ‘k’ and other replicas sell as ‘Slims’, the spicy chips that send jitters down your spine, on Albert Street are simply called ‘Finger Fries’, just as they were originally invented.

Nimco’s prestige is also reflected in its salesmen. Behind the L-shaped glass counter, with at least seven other hands — both young and old — stands Mohammad Rafiq who has been working there since 1971.

“They treat us like their family, which is why I’ve been here for so long,” he explains simply. When asked about how things have changed, he lightly pats a packet. “Kachori paapar is our latest entrant,” he says with a smile.

And so, even though ‘genericide’ has eaten into many a brand name, and indeed Nimco’s as well with it being sold across Karachi, Haji Muhammad Jan’s business, which is almost as old as Pakistan itself, should be proud of its contribution to our teatime delights by becoming a household name.

Published in The Express Tribune, Sunday Magazine, June 30^th, 2013.

Like Express Tribune Magazine on Facebook, follow @ETribuneMag on Twitter to stay informed and join the conversation.

ISLAMABAD / LAHORE / KARACHI: Three Superman fans, from Islamabad, Lahore and Karachi, assess the rebirth of the first
superhero.

Kneel before Zod

By Vaqas Asghar in Islamabad

A man who descended from the heavens to save humanity. A man of immaculate birth, haunted by a father of otherworldly origins, conflicted by his task, no destiny, to protect the entire human race, even if it means dying for their sins. Sound familiar?

The religious undertones in the new Superman movie Man of Steel are almost impossible to ignore. Superman, whether in comic book form, animation or live action, has always been a superhero whose ethical code set him apart from your average earth-born hero. Most significantly, he never killed and went to great lengths to protect non-combatants. The iconic Superman who forgave every terrestrial foe over whom he felt he had an unfair advantage is not clearly shown in this movie, but perhaps that is because General Zod and his supporters are fellow Kryptonians, and thus his equals.

However, the Zack Snyder movie does establish Superman’s ‘chosen’ origins in multiple scenes, the focus being on internal conflict over identity and the eternal existential question, ‘Why am I here?’ In fact in what is possibly the best scene, the man born Kal-El, the son of Lara and Jor-El, chooses to instead identify with an identity in which he is Clark, son of Martha and Jonathan Kent. By choosing this ‘terrestrial’ identity, he hopes to be accepted by the imperfect people his father has chosen for him to live among and protect. This scene portrays the inner conflict of a man who is slowly beginning to understand how to cope with the weight of the world on his shoulders.

The identity conflict also plays out in the best non-CGI battle in the entire movie: the battle between Russell Crowe and Kevin Costner over the title of “Best Father-figure for a Man-god”.

Costner and Crowe are the most influential characters in the movie outside of the principal trio of Superman, Zod, and the super love interest, Lois Lane. Although they share no scenes, since one is technically dead by the time the other is introduced, the efforts of both men to help the gifted child realise his potential as the saviour of a race are among the acting highlights of the movie.

Then there is Diane Lane as Martha Kent. Superman’s adopted mother is the most important female character in the movie. As the mother of a child who has lost two fathers, she serves as a constant reminder of why good must conquer evil, and why, to quote Jor-El, Superman must always continue to “test his limits”.

By humanising Zod’s desire to bring Krypton back to life, the general is shown to have motivations that a human being can ‘appreciate’ for its ends, if not the brutal means. At the same time, Zod’s remorse for some of his actions early in the movie show him to be less of a megalomaniac as with Terrence Stamp’s version in Superman II, and more of a battle-hardened Kryptonian soldier to whom victory and Kryptonian life are of supreme importance.

As for Cavill’s Superman, the character is well played and conveys an emotional fragility that was somewhat lacking in previous movies. This is especially apparent during his constant quest for an identity. One off-point though, was that much like the first Iron Man, Superman gives up his secret identity far too soon, although it is only to one journalist in private instead of during a whole press conference full of them ala Tony Stark.

Cavill does justice to earth’s most-beloved extraterrestrial (sorry ET) without besmirching Christopher Reeve’s iconic performances. Clark Kent comes across as a believable young man who is different in a way that only he can know, and is an outcast for being different, recalling the theme of xenophobia most evident in comics such as X-Men, which heavily relied on the same theme in the original movie trilogy and the prequel. As Superman, he becomes a god-like figure who initially questions his powers, at one point quoting his father as saying the world would reject him out of fear if they found out who he really was. However, another exchange with the older Kent led to the ‘birth’ of a hero, with Jonathan telling his son, “You just have to decide what kind of man you want to grow up to be Clark. Whoever that man is, he’s going to change the world.” And change the world he does. Ironically, by stopping Zod from changing it.

Full credit to the child actors playing a young Superman. Their performances as the younger Clark Kent, especially during scenes with Costner, seemed to effortlessly flow from the screen. They created a genuinely touching father-son bond.

The movie’s reliance on superhero action often means that the other supporting actors, most notably Laurence Fishburne, are under-utilised. Fishburne, in fact, has only one real scene in the movie, which in his defence was very well done.

But it was Christopher Meloni’s one-line ‘welcome to earth, you are our friend’ speech that will stand out among the performances by characters who are not, or will not in future, become a part of Superman’s immediate family. Comic book fans know where this is going.

All in all, the production values of the film were appreciable. Most of Superman’s powers require effects to be made believable, so there can be no critique on the relative lack of CGI-free action sequences. Who wants to see a guy who can fly and shoot ‘laser beams’ out of his eyes getting into a high speed car chase?

However, Nolan and Snyder’s attempt to balance action with plot development does not entirely succeed, with many established Superman themes shuffled around. This is partially because the film is meant to set up an Avengers-esque sequel featuring DC Comics heroes such as Batman, Wonder Woman, Green Lantern, Flash, Aquaman, and of course, the last son of Krypton. To establish the fact that this movie is in the same universe as Batman, there is at least one reference to Wayne Enterprises late in the movie.

One failing in the movie is its inability to truly persuade the viewer to sympathise with the protagonist during action sequences. Batman and Iron Man are ordinary human beings with deep personal flaws (alcoholic and hermit, respectively) who rise to extraordinary challenges, even superhuman ones, while Superman is a chivalrous, Herculean figure who meets and defeats his equals. The absence of a certain humanising Achilles Heel in the movie may have influenced this as well. Anyone remember the green glowing rocks from the comics?

At the same time, the movie lacked the humour that is typical of superhero flicks, perhaps because most of the characters are not associated with comic relief. This will probably be corrected once Lex Luthor and Jimmy Olson are introduced in future movies, although super-villains Darkseid and Doomsday could force that hypothesis to fail.

Overall though, the movie is definitely worth watching and would be money well spent, even if it did not live up to the expectations attached with a Nolan superhero movie. That is the ‘price’ Nolan must pay for making the epic Dark Knight series.

After more than 70 years in print and almost 40 on film, Superman has finally figured out how to wear his trousers over his underpants.

And that can only be a good thing.

The Steel Knight also rises

By Uzair Amir in Lahore

Every superhero has a foundation, a myth, that one ideal or principle that defines who they are, and more importantly the reasons for that particular belief. Christopher Nolan explored that in depth when he started work on Batman Begins, the first movie from the very successful Batman trilogy. The same approach was taken for Man of Steel, a reboot of the Superman film series. However, sadly this task was entrusted to Zack Snyder, who only managed to deliver a noisy, excessively action-packed, and mind-numbing movie experience.

The world is not what it once was, all of existence is on red alert and the Clark Kent of the movies is not the Clark Kent you remember from the comics. This pretty much sums up the whole movie. Russell Crowe does a horrible job of portraying Jor-El and Lois Lane and Clark Kent — one of the most iconic couples in the comic world — are hardly given any attention. It seems that the only thing the movie got right was that Superman managed to wear his underwear on the inside for once.

We’re told about the history of Krypton, one that took too long to tell, and its over-reaching inhabitants who brought about their own destruction. We see the conflict between General Zod and Jor-El. Then we are hit with that magic moment, the one when it all began, when the messianic future-titan baby to be known as Clark Kent is dispatched to Earth.

The film is an overdose of repetitive mind-numbing action, all thrown together haphazardly in the 143 minutes that can only be described as more special effects than perhaps all the previous Marvel movies put together. And the worst part is that it is hopelessly and transparently dark and humorless. Batman was able to pull off being dark because well, he’s Batman. He represents the darkness and lives in the shadows.

Superman on the other hand gets his powers from the sun and represents all that is good in this world, ironically in a package that is anything but earthly. But the makers of Man of Steel tried to play to the trend of making movie heroes darker than they actually are. Unfortunately for them, a hero that has come to represent ‘the light’ can be anything but dark and gloomy. In order to further the character in such a light they even pitted the United States army against Superman. There’s no Lex Luthor, no Kryptonite, no glasses, no mild-mannered reporter, very little Daily Planet, and even less Metropolis. Henry Cavill, who spends most of his time posing rather than acting, is alternately presented as an alien messiah, a superweapon and an American flag flapping in the wind. As a result, Man of Steel sometimes feels like artsy advertising, which explains why the movie fails to inspire any human emotion. Through it all, director Snyder has made a series of odd choices that weigh down the entire movie. One is his insistence on making this a science fiction film, rather than a superhero film with science fiction elements.

What could have been a powerful, beautifully crafted story sometimes feels like an odd mix of Star Trek and The Avengers. Add to that the story’s focus on spaceships and technology over character building and the result is a movie that never really feels like a true Superman movie. There are some glimpses of what the movie could have been but it really never comes close to capturing the heart and idealism that Superman stands for.

A rough guide to the man in the red underpants

By Ameer Hamza in Karachi

There has always been an inherent problem with the Superman franchise; Supes is a veritable Swiss-army knife of super powers and it’s hard to relate to him. In contrast, however, take the terribly ‘human’ example of Batman, who can win every fight, solve every problem, and is generally awesome all while carrying the burden of his limitations. In Batman’s case, you don’t need contaminated rocks from a dead planet in another galaxy to hurt him; you just need a gun to bring him down. He’s a superhero but he’s someone we can relate to.

In the case of Superman, however, the Kryptonian from Kansas can do everything – he’s faster than a speeding bullet. But all of this makes him superhuman. It’s hard to feel as if you can relate to him because he doesn’t have to struggle. So, how do you ‘humanise’ a superhero? You give him an alter ego. In this case it’s Clark Kent, the mild-mannered reporter for the Daily Planet who fights an unending battle for truth, justice and the American way. Superman’s civilian identity as Clark Kent put extra limits on him.

In the latest cinematic adaptation of the Superman comics, Man of Steel, directed by Zack Snyder, however, this equation is dropped altogether. Superman/Kal-El spends most of his time as a drifter, searching for his true purpose in life and as a result emerges as little more than a wallflower.

The film begins with a detailed history of planet Krypton and how its inhabitants brought about their own destruction. Twenty thousand years earlier, the Kryptonians had begun exploring the Milky Way Galaxy but they soon abandoned it in favour of genetic cultivation. In essence, they stopped looking for planets to house their expanding race and opted for a one-child policy. They carelessly mined their planet’s core and destroyed it.  Superdad and Supermom (Jor-El and Lara Lor-Van) jettison Superman (Kal-El) off the planet to protect him from the immanent destruction. They send an important Kryptonian artefact with him as a result of which, the villain, General Zod, vows to hunt him down.

Supes lands on Earth, is adopted by the Kents and develops powers on Earth because of our weak gravity and awesome sun. Instead of going to work immediately, Kent waits 33 years before donning the suit. He does save a few people here and there but only if they are on the same route as his daily commute. When Kal-El does go to work, he is embroiled in a battle with General Zod. The fight scenes are glorious but extremely destructive.  Man of Steel is a great exhibition of Superman’s sheer power but it fails to bring depth to his character. He maybe the new Superman but he is not our Superman.

Published in The Express Tribune, Sunday Magazine, June 30^th, 2013.

Like Express Tribune Magazine on Facebook, follow @ETribuneMag on Twitter to stay informed and join the conversation.

When Amitava Sarkar sings Ekla Cholo Re, Rabindranath Tagore’s famous call to conscience, you can’t tell he is neither male nor female. This is exactly the point he and eight other singers want to make with their album, Songs of Caravan, the first to be produced in India by people of the third gender. Music is beyond these limits.

Sarkar’s choice of Ekla Cholo Re is terribly apt for it contains the line: “Jodi tor dak shune keu na aashe”. If no one will accompany you, walk alone.

Getting the album out was a long walk alone for the man behind it. Anubhav Gupta, 30, who heads the NGO Jeevan Trust, wrote over 500 organisations asking for support. But he was repeatedly unceremoniously turned down.

“They are much more than street performers,” says Gupta, referring to hijras. “The world should realise that.” But the raw truth is that general perception of the singing talent of transgendered people is limited to what is heard at special occasions. Even Bollywood has done little to promote them.

This is ironic as the glitter and glow of Diwwali in the north Indian plain was never complete without a visit from a group of people from the third gender. When they arrived at your doorstep seeking alms, the elderly of the house were usually generous as their songs were said to usher in good fortune. Given their status, however, it is strange then that they have had to move mountains to release the album which arrived last month.

Key to the breakthrough was the Netherlands-based PlanetRomeo Foundation, which also works for the rights of LGBT communities. Once it gave Gupta the go-ahead he began looking for talented hijra singers across the country. The search involved spending many days writing to organisations that work with the transgender community. But in the end, he emerged with a broad sweep of talented voices from Maharashtra to Manipur and Andhra Pradesh to Rajasthan.

“Most transgender people lead uprooted lives with their groups or tolis away from their families,” explains Gupta. “Their struggles do not end at that — they fight a constant battle be accepted for who they are by their own inner selves, and society at large.” Indeed the very title of the album, Songs of the Caravan, is a reflection of those journeys, musings, dreams, desires, joys and sorrows. “Many participants felt they found their voice through this album, and realised they could sing,” he adds.

After the painstaking process of selecting the final nine singers on the basis of their voice, commitment and passion for music, it was decided that the artists would record and mix tracks in their hometown and the final work, including digitisation, would be done in Delhi.

The 13 songs are rendered in nine different languages in genres such as folk, traditional, devotional and pop. An added bonus is tracks of their self-composed poetry, evidence of the freedom they were given in the project. “They have sung what they believe would best suit their voice,” Gupta told The Express Tribune. The album has five self-written songs, two prayers, one English number, two folk songs and two songs by Rabindranath Tagore.

Five of the nine singers are formally trained. Ankur Patil is pursuing his Visharad, a high degree in music. Amitava Sarkar is a student of the legendary Rabindra Sangeet, Suchitra Mitra. But Rani, Kalyani, Hansa and Kalki Subramanium are among those not formally trained. Kalki runs an organisation called Sahodari Foundation in support of the transgender community.

It was not as if they hadn’t tried. Akkai Padmashali was keen to learn Carnatic classical music but her teacher told her to discontinue her classes because of her identity. “She said that my classmates were uncomfortable with me around,” says Akkai. And while the young singer was shattered, she turned to the one learning tool that was easily available and non-judgmental: television.

“I was an avid watcher of all the classical music programmes on Doordarshan and would do my riyaaz alongside and later — especially when there was no one at home,” she says. And thus, despite a lack of tutoring, the 29-year-old was confident enough to agree to be part of Songs of the Caravan. She chose to sing Bhagyada Lakshmi Baramma dedicated to the goddess of wealth Lakshmi. The Kannada prayer was written by Purandar Dasa many centuries and was first sung by Akkai’s idol MS Subbulakshmi.

She explains the choice: “Born male, I have always wanted to become a woman. Though I do not believe in gods, Lakshmi was the first ‘woman’ I ever saw. Her facial expressions and the way she is dressed made me feel good. This song is an ode to her.” Indeed, may the album bring them all good fortune and wealth.

Raksha Kumar blogs at www.rakshakumar.com and can be followed on Twitter @Raksha_Kumar

Published in The Express Tribune, Sunday Magazine, June 30^th, 2013.

Like Express Tribune Magazine on Facebook, follow @ETribuneMag on Twitter to stay informed and join the conversation.

Zain is realist enough to know he is at risk of being kidnapped. He is a young businessman at the helm of an empire in the making. But with the acquisition of his bullet-resistant ‘monster truck’, he knows he is a harder target to get at. Heck, for the purposes of this article we’ve even had to even insert distance between him and his real name in this paragraph. 

His rich friends would be well advised to pimp their rides too. “They have become paranoid,” he admits, referring to the extreme and real risk of becoming a target on the streets of Karachi. “Their stress levels are going through the roof. They hide their cell phones when in the car; they don’t go out at night.” As for Zain in his ballistics-defying Vigo? “If a guy comes up, he’ll need a specific type of gun. I flip him the finger and say: Give me your best shot.”

That is the confidence a bullet-resistant vehicle can give you. Zain sums it up: “I am in my own little green zone.”

Given the Zains of Pakistan, companies catering to vehicle armouring needs have gained traction.

Thirty-five kilometres east of Karachi’s city centre, workers in a non-descript red warehouse are carefully stripping a Toyota Land Cruiser. The interior trim, wiring, carpet, seats, air bags and dashboard are all taken out until only the skeletal frame remains. Behind it, other workers are welding plates of steel to another Land Cruiser.

“As you can see, we have three lines working simultaneously,” says Faisal Saleem. “We work on the Toyota Corolla, Land Cruiser, Hilux Vigo, Tundra, Fortuner and Camry.”

Saleem is the manager of operations of Streit Pakistan (Pvt) Ltd. With plants and offices in Iraq, Afghanistan, Nigeria, India, Mexico and Pakistan, Streit provides armouring facilities across the globe. While terrorism and insecurity has put a damper on business in Pakistan, the increased violence has become a boon for the security sector, including the armoured car industry. “There has been a surge in demand recently and we are currently armouring at least 10 to 12 cars per month,” says Shahzad Salim Godil, director of Streit Pakistan.

Previously, anyone in the market for an armoured personal car had to either import one or send their car to Dubai to be armoured. The cost of both these options is ridiculously high. Sigma Motors Ltd Pakistan, the official supplier of Land Rover 4x4s in Pakistan, currently offers two types of ready-made armoured cars — the Range Rover Armoured for around Rs65 million and the Discovery 4 Armoured for around Rs40 million (prices as of June 5). Both vehicles provide B6 levels of ballistic protection and come with a full Land Rover warranty. Compare that to local armouring companies that will retrofit your car starting from Rs2.5 million. Armour Infinity Pvt Ltd in Islamabad offers customers all three choices: importing armoured cars for them, armouring their cars by sending them to Dubai or getting it done in Islamabad.

Journalist Ali retrofitted his car after a number of threats to his life. “It cost me around Rs5 million to armour my car locally,” he says “It was quite expensive but it’s a small price to pay for protection.” Ali is a satisfied with his vehicle and goes to great lengths to prove his point. “I am an avid gun collector and I have, on occasion, fired a few rounds at my armoured car to show its capabilities to friends.”

If you are in the market for one, there are certain things you need to know about armoured cars to assist you in making a wise purchase. Firstly, it’s important to understand that an armoured car is bullet-resistant and not bulletproof. Secondly, the cars are not meant to withstand sustained fire. This means that if your armoured car does come under fire, your first concern should be to get out of the range of your attackers as soon as possible. While armoured cars offer extensive protection against certain handguns and rifles, they cannot provide total protection from all types of small arms fire.

There are several internationally recognised standards of bullet-resistance. The most commonly used rating system used in Pakistan is the EN 1063 or CEN 1063. It is used to form a ballistic classification system by which armoured vehicles and structures are tested and rated. The protective strength of an armoured car is rated on the type of munitions or threat level it is capable of withstanding (see table). There are seven main standard threat levels: BR1 to BR7, each corresponding to a different type of small arms fire. To be given a particular rating, the armour must stop the bullet for a specified number of strikes, with multiple strikes placed within 120mm of each other. The glazing should also be shatterproof and not crack after each strike. 

Retrofitting a passenger car

“Before we do anything to the car, we require a non-objection certificate (NOC) from the Ministry of Interior,” says Omar Khan, the director of the armouring division of Omar Jibran Engineering Industries Ltd. OJ started manufacturing car bumpers, instrument panels, radiator grilles in 1990. Over the past 25 years, it has become a supplier for local car assemblers and has also diversified into the armouring business. “We can guide our customers about the proper procedure and requirements of getting an NOC but they have to get it themselves,” he adds.

After the NOC has been received and verified by the armouring company, a preliminary consultation process take place. The car is checked, the level of protection needed by the client is estimated and a quotation is provided.

“The first step is to check the model of the car and how long it’s been used. It cannot be more than five years,” says Khan. “The protection level depends on the engine. If the customer brings in a 1.6-litre sedan, like the Toyota Corolla, we recommend B5 level of armouring.” Anything less than that and they recommend B4 armouring. If the car has a 2.4-litre engine and above they recommend B6.

The cost of armouring a personal car varies from company to company. “Armouring a car through Streit will cost you between Rs3 million and Rs4.5 million,” says Godil. Conversely, Omar Jibran Engineering will armour a B5 Sedan for Rs2.5 million (subject to GST) and a B6 SUV for Rs3.2 million.

“The most expensive parts are the raw ballistic steel sheet,” says Godil. “These sheets are imported from the west and are laser cut in our factory in Ras Al Khaimah, UAE. They are cut into the exact sizes required for the armouring of each car.” 

The process

The armouring process itself is no easy task. It involves ripping up a vehicle, down to the undercarriage, and rebuilding it after armouring it with steel plates. Similarly, ballistic metal is added to the floor of the car to protect from grenades thrown under it. Then the doors and all other cavities (such as the pillars) are cut open so ballistic metal can be inserted into them.

“Some armouring companies opt to use multiple pieces of the ballistic sheets stitched together to create patchwork armour since it is cheaper,” says Godil. “This is dangerous as the sheets have to be welded together and any gap would make the armouring process redundant.”

If the doors get too heavy, heavy duty hinges are added. The firewall (everything surrounding the engine) and rear bulkhead (the partition between the cab and the load space) is also armour-plated. The stock bumpers, designed to crumple and absorb energy during major impact, can be reinforced with front rams and additional radiator protection. Door frame overlaps are added to prevent bullets entering from the gap between the doors. The goal of armouring is also to make the car appear to be unmodified, inside and out.

Apart from the ballistic metal, all glass surfaces are replaced with bullet-resistant glass. The glass is made up of several layers and looks just like an ordinary pane. When a bullet is fired at it, it will only pierce the outside layer of the glass. The layered polycarbonate-glass material will absorb the bullet’s energy and stop it before it exits the final layer.

Next, the tires are replaced with Run-flat tires. These tires are designed to resist the effects of deflation when punctured, and enable the vehicle to continue to be driven at reduced speeds for limited distances.

Even the lightest armouring adds weight to the car, however. “The armouring process adds about 1,800 kilogrammes to a Land Cruiser and mileage is affected by as much as 30%,” says Godil. Most modern engines in large 4×4 vehicles have enough power to sufficiently cope with the extra weight. To maintain drivability, though, the suspension is reinforced to compensate for the additional weight. In some cases, the braking system is also changed.

The entire process takes anywhere between three to six weeks and both companies provide service plans and local warranties. “We provide a two-year warranty or 20,000km, whichever comes first,” says Godil. It is possible to sell an armoured car but since the vehicle is taken apart for the armouring process, the value is greatly affected. If you decide to remove the armouring before selling it, the car would be in pretty bad shape. And if your armoured vehicle has been fired at, customers are advised to bring it back into the warehouse for a check.

How do customers feel? One senior police officer who recently acquired an armoured Vigo says he feels safer but it has been an ugly necessity. And as for Zain, he’s blunt: “It has made a huge difference in my life and I can’t imagine not having it now.”

Published in The Express Tribune, Sunday Magazine, June 30^th, 2013.

Like Express Tribune Magazine on Facebook, follow @ETribuneMag on Twitter to stay informed and join the conversation.

A woman returns home after drinking at a bar to find that someone has laid out a set of her underwear on her bed. There has obviously been an intruder. She calls 911 and a male and a female officer arrive. When they find no signs of forced entry, they start cross questioning her. Had she been drinking? Did she have boyfriends? The already spooked victim backs off from pursuing the complaint. A few days later she is murdered.

Violence against women is still the bread and butter of crime shows, but in BBC’s The Fall, set in Belfast, creator Allan Cubitt explores just how biased this television genre has been. Cubitt uses the character of a high-ranking detective superintendent in London’s Metropolitan Police, Stella Gibson, to cut through the swathe of stereotypes. The perfect choice to play Stella comes in the form of the inscrutable Gillian Anderson (X-Files), whose deadpan detective work is only as expertly crafted as her new blonde coif.

Take the scene in which Stella is writing a press release about the victims with the police chief and the PRO. Take out ‘innocent’, she says to their bewilderment. If it were a prostitute who was murdered, would she be just as innocent, asks Stella, driving home the point that by leaving out ‘innocent’ for certain victims we send the message that they were culpable or less deserving of being treated like any other victim. Isn’t this the same language we use when reporting homicides in Pakistan?

The stereotypes don’t evade Stella either, who is chastised by the police chief for having a one-night stand with another detective.

Did you know he was married, he asked in tones full of Irish Catholic indignation.

He wasn’t wearing a ring, she replies.

But didn’t you think to ask, retorts the police chief.

He didn’t think to tell me, she says.

Thus, Cubitt brilliantly lays bare the double standards. How quick the police chief was to chastise Stella for having a sexual relationship. How invisible to him was the shared responsibility of the married detective. But the real kicker comes when Stella reminds the police chief that he was a married man when they had had an affair.

Stella’s strength is her chilled demeanour, which would be completely acceptable for a man in her position. It drives everyone around her crazy because they can’t figure her out. Cubitt shows we are accepting of quiet, superior, unexplained male behaviour than when it comes from a woman. And if you watch closely, you’ll see most of the men are hysterical and falling apart in the show.

The Fall is centred on the hunt for a serial killer, which is nothing new as such, but viewers in Pakistan will appreciate the Belfast setting. Northern Ireland’s history is similar to ours. For example, one police officer is openly threatened by a suspect. A day or two later, the officer is shot dead outside his house. Could have been straight out of a scene in Karachi.

Packing heat, killing stereotypes

DCI Jane Tennison

1 Prime Suspect’s Detective Chief Inspector Jane Tennison was almost the prototype for the female copper in 1991. The icy Helen Mirren played the inscrutable detective, whose character was based on a real-life DCI, according to the show’s creator, Lynda La Plante, in an interview with The Independent in 1993.

Detective Inspector Sarah Lund

2 There is not a smidgen of make-up on Sofie Gråbøl’s face in the three seasons she plays Detective Sarah Lund in the Danish show Forbrydelsen (The Killing 2007) created by Søren Sveistrup. Her Nordic facade barely masks her high IQ but it was the masculinities of her character that form its base. She even had to act like a man to get Lund right.

Detective Olivia Benson

3 Mariska Hargitay has played this character since 1999 on Dick Wolf’s Law and Order SVU, possibly one of TV’s longest running crime shows. She is a cop who will go to any lengths to solve a crime, including putting herself at risk of rape in prison. Her vulnerabilities are just as powerful as her strengths which puts Benson in our top 3 female police officers.

Published in The Express Tribune, Sunday Magazine, July 7^th, 2013.

Like Express Tribune Magazine on Facebook, follow @ETribuneMag on Twitter to stay informed and join the conversation.

All good things come to an end. Even the lives of stars. Located 2,300 light years away, the Ring Nebula (right) is a gorgeous announcement of the demise of a star that shone brightly for ten billion years.

Now all that is left is a small white nucleus surrounded by gases that once were part of the star itself. Some of these gases will one day be part of another star. This is cosmic recycling at its best.

While beautiful, this stage is temporary for the star. Most of the gases we see in the Ring Nebula were expelled only a few thousand years ago. The star at the time had bloated into a red giant and subsequently lost much of its outer material to space, leaving behind a central core about the size of the Earth. This core is called a white dwarf and is one of the densest objects in the universe. Here on Earth, a teaspoon of white dwarf material would weigh as much as a car.

Made up mostly of Carbon and Oxygen, the white dwarf is extremely hot — about twenty times hotter than the surface of our Sun. It is the light from this white dwarf that is making some of the gases glow in the Ring Nebula. However, it does not have any energy source within, and from now on it will slowly cool down for eternity, becoming dimmer and dimmer each passing year, eventually — no longer detectable in visible light. This is the final stage — the corpse of a star that shone for ten billion years.

This is the fate that awaits the Sun as well. Our star has been a stable source of energy for the past four-and-a-half-billion years. Algae, rodents, ferns, seagulls, ants, humans — they have all been dependent on this supply of energy. Quite amazingly, humans have figured out that our Sun will run out of its supply of fuel in another 5 billion years or so. No need to worry about it tomorrow morning. But if humans — or some form of their descendants — are to survive on scales of billions of years, then journeys to other stars will have to be undertaken. Whatever happens to us, our Sun’s last rites will also include a beautiful nebula followed by the forever cooling of its white dwarf.

What about life around the star that formed the Ring Nebula? We have not detected any planets there as yet and we certainly have no idea if there ever was any life, let alone intelligence, out there. However, if there were any worlds inhabited by complex, intelligent beings, then I hope they had stumbled upon science, figured out the impending death of their star, and made alternative plans. They may have implemented mass-evacuation to another planet around a nearby star system. They may have left a billion years before the death of their star. The beauty of Ring Nebula may now be bitter sweet as they watch the demise of their original home star. Or maybe this life form never developed the ability to leave its solar system. Then most likely all of this life is now gone — just one of many mass extinctions that must happen quite often in the universe.

Salman Hamed is Associate Professor of Integrated Science and Humanities at Hampshire College, Massachusetts, Usa. He runs the blog Irtiqa at Irtiqa-blog.com

Published in The Express Tribune, Sunday Magazine, July 7^th, 2013.

Like Express Tribune Magazine on Facebook, follow @ETribuneMag on Twitter to stay informed and join the conversation.

In candid tones, journalist and analyst Raza Rumi explores an Indian city, and indeed his own identity as a Muslim in the Subcontinent, in his first book, Delhi by Heart. He admits to being an ‘outsider’ but as his stories unspool, it becomes clear that he approached this ‘enemy territory’ with an open mind. The Express Tribune asked him briefly about the experience. 

The Express Tribune: Don’t you think it’s a daunting task to write about a city that you really don’t know about and which has been the subject of some celebrated books by prominent authors?

Raza Rumi: Indeed, it was a tough call. I was extremely unsure about my abilities as a writer when I started to work on the book. However, the encouragement I received from the publisher, as well as friends who read the book, made me a bit comfortable about the process of writing, and I continued to research and write. This is why the book is not a linear account of either travel stories or the history of the city per se. In fact, it is a more of a journey of exploring the past, celebrating the diversity of our shared culture.

ET: Were you concerned about the fact that writing about the Indian capital might be viewed unfavorably in Pakistan?

Rumi: My book is not about India-Pakistan relations, Kashmir or other disputes the two countries have wasted their energies on, nor is it about the invincibility of one nationalist narrative [over] the other. In fact, a brush with history only sheds the absurdities of the present.

How can we write off nearly a thousand years of co-existence with non-Muslims in the Indian subcontinent? What about Amir Khusrau, Ghalib, and other cultural references that are still shared and refuse to follow initial state mantra? In my book, I have been critical of the way the Indian nation state has also distorted the narrative and how we need to move beyond that. 

ET: There is a lot of emphasis on sufism in your book. Any particular reason for that?

Rumi: To understand the spread of Islam, and the construction of Hindu Muslim identity, an exploration of the sufi thought and how it discovered a fertile indigenous culture in South Asia is most important. Contrary to the common misconceptions, Islam did not spread in India due to kingship and the policies of Sultans or Mughals. Instead, the plural and tolerant methods of sufi engagement were most helpful in propagating the simplicity and equality inherent to Islamic thought.

Delhi, also known as the ‘courtyard of the sufis’, was a special area of my interest. In every corner of the city, there is a visible or hidden shrine. Some of them I explored with my sufi soul mate Sadia Dehlvi, while others I discovered through older books and texts. There is still so much to know and discover and it would take time for me to fully know about the treasures that lie hidden under the seemingly busy chaotic and powerful capital of India. 

ET: Your book seems to have a central theme which some may not agree with, even in India. Are you concerned about receiving criticism, as you make some bold assertions throughout the text?

Rumi: I’m sure that there will be aspects of my book that may ruffle a few orthodox feathers. However, I’m also certain that most people will not ignore the honesty with which I have presented my views in the narrative. Yes, I am a bit of a brainwashed Pakistani visiting a known-unknown territory. The central argument in the book deals with how ancient and medieval Delhi led to the evolution of the north Indian cuisine, music, Urdu language, mannerisms, and other everyday references that Indians and Pakistanis are so familiar with. But there is another dimension to this narrative. There is a constant evolution of the city, and its symbols, underneath all the destruction and frequent plunder that the city faced in millennia, and [therein] lies its resilience and ability to resurrect itself. Few cities can boast of such dynamism, for Delhi has always risen from ashes, and its layers of history make it an eminently exciting and wondrous arena.

ET: What about the modern city? You are not too impressed with post-1947 Delhi?

Rumi: Really? Did I give that impression? Of course post-partition Delhi has a different history and its architecture, values and trajectory have pulled it into the rise of democratic India, struggling with an imperial past and a colonial state. The most fascinating part, not unlike [in] other cities [of] South Asia, is the emergence of different cities within one metropolis. I have mentioned these stories in my book, yet I am cognizant of the [problematic] that an ‘outsider’ will never be able to write it all.

An excerpt from the book: 

The Red Fort stands in the heart of Shahjahanabad, like a relic that someone forgot to worship. Imposing in its presence, it emerges into one’s vision from nowhere…

….Entering the Fort through scanners reminded me once again of the word ‘terror’ juxtaposed with the word ‘Muslim’. The Indian media keeps whipping up these words periodically. But is it not a dangerous alienating game? I shrug off such questions and move forward with the little group amid the sound of clicking cameras.

The walkways to the main buildings in the Fort complex were clean and quiet as the stream of tourists had not started flowing in. The Diwan-e-aam (public gallery) is our first major halt. This was the site of royals’ durbars including the ones organized by the British. The lonely throne made of marble with intricate inlay work can be spotted behind the protective screens placed around it. I imagine what the Delhi Durbar must have been in all its glory. After wandering through the Diwan-e-Khas which were the royal chambers, bedrooms and inter-connected courtyards, we reach the little gate that provided the escape route for Bahadur Shah Zafar, who perhaps had no idea that this exit would be his final one and that the world inside the Fort was going to crumble and disappear with the brutal end to the 1857 Mutiny by the British. The little wooden gate is locked.

On the night of the fall of Delhi in early 1858, General Wilson, the Commander of the British forces, celebrated his victory with a festive dinner in the Diwan-e-Khas, the innermost sanctum of the three-centuries-old Mughal reign in India. The dinner would be an eclectic mix of Victorian cold cuts, canned fish and meats, and general army mess cuisine. In the days to follow, twenty-one Mughal princes were condemned, hanged and eliminated in a flash. Many more were shot dead and their corpses were displayed in Chandni Chowk to inform the public as to what would happen to rebellious subjects as well as to remind citizens about the brutal capabilities of the new imperial order. The British contemplated demolishing the Jama Masjid and the Red Fort. However, the exquisite Fathepuri mosque was sold to Lala Chunna Mal, a Hindu merchant, as his private property and the Zinatul Masjid was converted into a bakery. Buildings within a radius of 500 yards of the Red Fort were razed to ground. Structures around the Jama Masjid were also cleared in the name of martial orderliness. Quite symbolically, the buildings blocking the new wider roads and the planned railway line were also demolished.

The kuchas, galis and katras erased in the process represented a larger metaphor—the erasure of not just bricks, mortar and marble, but a centuries’-old way of life. An entire tehzib was dismantled and replaced. For Delhi this was nothing new though; each episode of human suffering is real and unique. Delhi’s melancholy was to stay, but counterpoised by the inner zest of its residents who had seen much worse and reinvented themselves like their beloved city.

The negligence of the Fort as it stands today is quite monumental; in particular, the later-day additions of iron grills and fences which are completely out of sync with the place. The government departments in Pakistan and India are incapable of appreciating fine aesthetics and the buck, as usual, stops at ‘lack of resources’. Many walls of the Fort have been tastelessly white-washed for purposes of ‘conservation,’ and the shoddy patchwork amid small Mughal bricks or sandstone conspicuously mars the impact of the old structures. In many ways, the Delhi Fort is modelled after the Lahore Fort—the public and private quarters, gardens, Sheesh Mahal and the underground chambers. The differences can be attributed to the innovations of Shah Jahan and his highly refined female companions, the Queen and Princess Jahanara, as well as its proximity to Chandni Chowk and the city of Shahjahanabad…

As we reach the sandstone chabutras designed for musical soirées and for poetry sessions or mushairas, the cloistered spaces open up. How magical it must have been! I attempt to explain the concept of mushairas to the Americans but feel inhibited by the impossibility of translating the inner language of culture. Mushairas were the high points of Delhi’s literary culture. Young as well as more seasoned poets recited their verses with elegant etiquette in the late evenings; these sessions continuing well into the dawn. Kings and nobles, patrons of the Delhi poets, would be the chief guests, adding decorum to these events. Despite many internal and external attacks, by the early nineteenth century, the Fort grew into a hub for poetry and its experimentation, especially in Urdu. The finest Persian carpets would be unrolled for the poets. A roving candle would light up the poetry in front of the bards. Ghazals, a genre of poetry, expressing love for the temporal and divine with doses of existential rambling, was popular.

The ghazal is uniquely structured in that each couplet is a universe of meaning and there is no compulsion, despite the formalism, to build on a single theme. Even the mood varies with each couplet and so does the theme. Disparate yet whole, the couplets of a ghazal are connected.

As the comforting sunlight added little patterns on the red sandstone, I mused about how the eminent poets of Delhi— Ghalib, Momin, Azurda, Sahbai—would all gather during a typical mushaira presided over by Bahadur Shah Zafar. The poets would play games with Ustad Zauq, the king’s favourite poet, by paying compliments to his rivals and by over-rating lesser poets.

Such was the cultural climate of Shahjahanabad that a Frenchman, Alexander Heatherley, adopted the nom de plume of ‘Azad’ and became a pupil of Delhi’s Urdu poets, finding a place at royal gatherings… 

Delhi by Heart: Impressions of a Pakistani Traveller (Harpers Collins, India — May 2013 Rs855 on discount at Liberty Books

Published in The Express Tribune, Sunday Magazine, July 7th, 2013.

 Like Express Tribune Magazine on Facebook, follow @ETribuneMag on Twitter to stay informed and join the conversation.

If your moustache has reached dali-esque lengths or you are battling a uni-brow, perhaps the new male grooming salon, N-Gents, can offer some assistance.

“We can suggest ways for the client to address factors that potentially limit the way they appear or feel,” they say euphemistically. The salon offers an extensive list of personal grooming services. It might be the place to go if you are a looks-savvy male who has made it over the ugly puberty hump.

Styling: Nabila

Wardrobe: F.A.D

Model: Wasim Akram

Location: N-Gents

Grooming: N-Gents

Haircuts start at Rs1,200 or perhaps you fancy an age-smart with eye treatment facial for those dark circles. Grooms can get a little buffing for their special day from Rs9,000 upwards. In this shoot, Nabila and Zair were inspired by the Victorian and Edwardian eras and spaghetti Westerns. But it was Quentin Tarantino’s Django that emboldened the model, Wasim Akram, to let the stylists experiment. If you aren’t feeling as adventurous, you can go for a simple shave or head massage in their luxurious setting replete with leather barbershop chairs. Oh, and full body waxes are priced at Rs2,500. Shame they won’t take women.

Published in The Express Tribune, Sunday Magazine, July 7^th, 2013.

Like Express Tribune Magazine on Facebook, follow @ETribuneMag on Twitter to stay informed and join the conversation.

Hot off his horse at the end of the polo match at Cirencester in 1985, Prince Charles planted on her lips what was probably the sweatiest kiss of Princess Diana’s public life. Her giggle was captured in an iconic photo that said it all about the sport: British cultural power, colonial elitism, high-society glamour, adrenaline-pumping competition.

As much as it seems that polo is a British invention, the sport’s history lies much more to the east. The general academic consensus is that polo’s origins lay in Persia. Poet Firdusi mentions the game at the end of the 10th century. And the word polo is believed to have come from the Tibetan word pulu for a ball made from the knot of willow wood, according to a 1914 article in The Lotus Magazine.

Hissam Hyder playing in the Royal Windsor Cup in 2013. PHOTO: FILE

The game’s arrival in the Indian subcontinent is unclear; some people say it came via Kashmir and others Afghanistan. It was played in Gilgit between rival tribal groups and villages as a method of conflict resolution. In the late 1500s Mughal Emperor Akbar had a polo ground at Ghariwali, four miles from Agra. He would even play at night with balls set on fire. But the British definitely first heard of the sport here. In 1869, bored young subalterns of the 10th Hussars saddled up for the first time after reading a newspaper report about the ‘novel’ sport being played in Manipuri, the cradle of Indian polo.

Hamza Mawaz, a three-time Pakistan champion. PHOTO: GUL MAWAZ

And as the British were wont to do, they decided to ‘civilise’ the sport. As with cricket, the colonial rulers used sport to transfer dominant British beliefs on social behaviour, standards, conformity, all of which have persisted beyond the end of empire.

So the British threw out the way it was played in the mid-nineteenth century in the Himalayan hill states. Here, according to Brian Stoddart in a 1988 paper for the journal Comparative Studies in Society and History, polo had emphasised the display of skill in handling a horse, stick and ball. There were no goals, no teams, no restrictions on the number of players and no physical boundaries. “Within twenty years it had been transformed by the British military establishment in India.” After 1858, Indian princes anxious to ingratiate themselves with the British scrambled to get in on the game.

Today the British rules apply. Two teams battle it out, each consisting of six pony-and-rider combinations with four on the field at a time. Players use long-handled mallets to hit a ball through the goal posts to score. Four rounds or chukkers last 15 minutes each. To be fair, players are pitched against each other based on their ranking or handicap. The higher the handicap, the better the player.

Princess Diana gets the giggles after Prince Charles smooches her in 1985. PHOTO: MAGESTY MAGAZINE, AASTA

Today, this version is played on the plateaus of Chitral and Gilgit. And the sport is a still a matter of pride and honour. Women shower players with flower petals as they trek to Shandur, the highest polo ground in the world.

The club

The British then kept a tight rein on which social groups could be admitted to the elite sport, which was largely limited to military personnel and royalty. “When my father played, it was an army game and no civilian was part of it,” says Tammy Alam, the daughter of Brigadier ‘Hesky’ Baig nicknamed after the Welsh champion Hesketh Hughes. “It was part of their training to play polo.”

In those days no money was involved and it was just about the glory, social status and lifestyle. In the 50s and 60s, matches would be followed by three parties a night with cocktails before dinner. “Players would stay at the houses of local players and this gave the families and players a chance to create ties and understand each other,” Alam says. Their children grew up in that culture.

The Baigs and Alams are examples of polo ‘families’ who can boast of four generations of players. In well known player Shamyl Alam’s family there is a tradition. On the seventh day of a child’s birth, the baby is put on a horse and a sword is placed in one hand and a pen in the other. “This rite of passage… symbolises that the child [will] grow up to be a horseman, warrior and scholar,” he explains.

Brig ‘Hesky’ Baig, three-time winner of the Cowdray Park Gold Cup in England.

It thus emerged as a game for the exceedingly rich and well-placed, and as Tammy Alam puts it, it is generally not open to outsiders. The prestige factor is undeniable — after all, you could be called upon to play in lieu of the Duke of Edinburgh, as her father was once in England, or rub shoulders with Prince Charles as Shamyl has. He interprets this as a “humbling experience” but it hardly masks the ‘cool factor’. And the ladies certainly like it.

Players are known to play hard and party harder, but they know that polo will always be their top priority. Girls may show interest in you if you are a player but as third-generation player Gul Mawaz Khan puts it, “It’s usually nothing more than an ice breaker.” They shrug off flattery. “Being a horseman, I am perceived as a snob. But I don’t think that is true,” says Shamyl. “The sport automatically puts you on a pedestal. You feel like a gladiator.”

For such players, polo is their life. “Once on the ground, you leave the world behind and your life becomes all about riding the horse and speeding towards the goal post,” says Ali Malik, who has been playing since he was nine. “It’s like playing golf at 35km an hour!”

It is thus hardly surprising that given the game’s links to ‘lineage’, some of the players look down on relatively newer entrants, who are perceived as social climbers who just play for the money. Shamyl describes it as “people who play polo and those who play at polo”.

General Sher Ali, Brig ‘Hesky’ Baig, General Yusaf and an unidentified British player.

The passion means that serious polo players from ‘old money’ have the wherewithal to spend the time required on the ground or in the stables. Sometimes a higher price has to be paid. Shah Qubilai Alam lost six teeth during the 2003 Pakistan-India World Cup Qualifier match after he was hit in the face with a mallet. “It is not one of those sports in which you stop just because you got injured,” he says. “I later found out that I had a broken jaw as well but it was all worth it because we had won the match.” He stopped playing polo professionally two years ago, but declares that it is still in his “blood”.

If you are not from old money, there are still ways to get in on the game. In corporate sponsorships, private companies pay to create their own teams. Private sponsors put teams together as well and if you can pay for it yourself, nothing like it. The good news is that you can train for free as Qubilai Alam runs the Junior Polo League where he turns entrants into professional players pro bono. You will have to still be able to afford it in terms of a lifestyle. Businessman Farooq Amin Sufi, who has just ventured into the world of polo in Lahore, explains: one must either work or only play polo because, “No employer will ever understand your need to take three afternoons off every week.”

Pony up

The saying in polo goes: four legs, two heads and one heart. The man and beast have to work as one. “You have to sync[hronise] yourself with a beast and work in unison to achieve an outcome,” explains Raja Gul Mawaz Khan, the grandson of player General Mawaz. “How could anything else be as poetic or regal?”

This is, however, easier said than done. “Training a horse is an art,” says Shamyl, who has been riding for as far back as he can remember. “You need to have a feel for the horse, understand its movements and have the knack [of] communicat[ing] with it. A lot of people can ride horses but not everyone can train a horse.”

Thus they don’t come cheap. A trained mare or gelding costs approximately Rs4 million, with upkeep ranging between Rs10,000 and Rs15,000 per month, excluding grooming costs. Sufi has invested in Argentinian horses because they are already trained. “I am a businessman and hence do not have the kind of time one needs to put into the maintenance of horses,” he explains. “One needs a manager for the horse, a permanent vet and someone to constantly train the horse.”

Argentina has created an industry out of and monopolised the sale, rearing and training of polo ponies. Locally the industry has little to offer. “The issue is that Pakistani ponies have been misdiagnosed to have African Horse Sickness and hence we cannot export [them],” says Fakir Syed Amiruddin, popularly known as Iggi, the polo player turned coach who runs an academy in Lahore.

And if someone does try to sell you one, beware. “A newcomer cannot just buy a professional level horse in Pakistan,” says Sufi. “No one will sell you their best horse and you will always be stuck with something close to second best.”

Polo can thus today be seen as a mix of corporate cut-throat competition and old school romanticism. Serious players say it teaches them humility, patience, hard work and determination as well. But perhaps they are drawn to it for the sheer thrill and glamour. It is after all, known as the game of kings and the king of games.

Published in The Express Tribune, Sunday Magazine, July 7^th, 2013.

Like Express Tribune Magazine on Facebook, follow @ETribuneMag on Twitter to stay informed and join the conversation.

Cooking oil is expensive which is why we re-use it and this Ramzan we’ll need more of it for those samosas and pakoras at iftari. The only problem is that constantly reheating and reusing a batch of oil can break it down to release cancer-causing chemicals.

During cooking, proteins and carbohydrates in the food react with the hot oil. Oil-soluble flavours in the food and its seasonings are therefore released into the oil you are using. If the oil is heated to a very high temperature, as when you fry, chemical reactions take place.

In frying, food is heated to temperatures typically between 149 degrees Celsius and 215 degrees Celsius. The fatty acids in the oil break down into harmful trans fats. Additives, such as food colouring, preservatives and metal compounds found in food, react with the fatty acids from the oil to produce toxic aldehydes. Repeated or high-temperature frying makes the levels of trans fats and aldehydes in the oil go up each time.

The toxic aldehydes are organic compounds. And just how toxic they are can be judged from the fact that aldehyde-based compounds are used as disinfectants in operation theatres, says intestinal-gastroentologist Dr Irfan Daudi.

These chemical compounds are carcinogenic — meaning they are potentially cancer-inducing. Repeated use of the same cooking oil irritates the lining of the digestive tract. These chemicals interact with the cells in the lining of the food pipe, the stomach and the intestines and alter their genetic makeup, thereby killing the cells. They have been linked to different types of cancer and neurodegenerative diseases such as Alzheimer’s and Parkinson’s.

“In our part of the world, the incidence of certain cancers like oesophageal cancer, stomach cancer, gall bladder cancer is very high,” Dr Daudi says. “There is also a huge association of high cholesterol with certain cancers such as breast and colon cancer.” Hence, his advice is to throw away that cooking oil after a single use.

There are certain cholesterol-free vegetable oils, which should not be heated at all. Research by a team of food science experts at the University of the Basque Country, Spain discovered that heating sunflower, flaxseed and olive oil leads to degradation of fatty acids into aldehydes. Another study by the University of Minnesota’s Food Science and Nutrition department found similar results with soybean oil when it was heated up to 185 degrees Celsius. 

For a long time, vegetable oil has been considered healthy compared to animal fat-based oils such as butter and desi ghee because they contain healthy unsaturated fats. But cardiologist Dr Khawar Kazmi says that when heated extensively, vegetable oil also produces trans fats, which are even more harmful than saturated animal fats. They are potentially atherogenic, meaning they lead to an increase in ‘bad cholesterol’ and clog up arteries.

There are two things we do wrong when cooking: the amount of oil we consume and the number of times we reuse our cooking oil or subject it to extensive heat. “The recommended amount of oil to be consumed is about 1 litre per person per month. But here an average person is consuming three times more,” says Dr Kazmi.

There are certain vegetable oils which do not break down into trans fats as swiftly as the others because they are more heat-stable. Dr Kazmi recommends palm oil for the cooking of Pakistani cuisine. Olive oil should ideally only be used in salads.

Signs your cooking oil needs to be discarded

When the oil darkens or smells of food that is fried in it.

The oil becomes more viscous, that is, it pours slowly.

Food particles remain suspended or collect at the bottom of the oil container or frying pan

When smoke appears on the oil’s surface

When foam appears consistently while frying

How to reuse oil safely

Ideal temperature for frying is 190 degrees Celsius. Tip: to test the heat drop a piece of bread into the oil; if it sizzles and bubbles in a few seconds, it’s a good temperature. Do not fry in cold oil for the risk of soaking it up, nor heat the oil so much that it smokes.

Do not mix different types of oil.

Store oil in a cool, dark place.

Published in The Express Tribune, Sunday Magazine, July 14^th, 2013.

Like Express Tribune Magazine on Facebook, follow @ETribuneMag on Twitter to stay informed and join the conversation.

Zombies attack the human race and threaten to kill every person in sight; the humans flee at first, there’s a dash of drama, and after some deaths here and there, the humans ultimately overcome this seemingly bizarre menace. That’s the basic premise of almost every zombie movie ever made, and World War Z is no different. Don’t expect any groundbreaking progress in terms of plot. However, it’s the treatment of the various set-pieces that still manage to make the film worth a watch.

Fortunately, director Marc Forster wastes no time with unnecessary pleasantries and drives the film into action right from the beginning. The Lanes, a quintessential happy family of four, witness a sudden stampede of eerily strange creatures that turn a peaceful Philadelphian traffic jam into a chaotic civilian nightmare. From there on, our leading man Gerry Lane, (played by a gracefully ageing Brad Pitt), after ensuring the safety of his family, embarks on a global escapade to unravel the mystery of this pandemic and find a possible cure. He does this while simultaneously stumbling and struggling through unforeseen adventures.

What works in favour of World War Z are some genuine thrills and moments of panic which have the audience gripped enough despite the lack of any significant character development. It requires considerable suspension of belief to absorb the idea of a single man hopping across the world to rein in such an alarming virus. But Pitt manages to pull it off with a convincing performance that is testament to his commanding screen presence.

Despite the fast-paced action, though, if you feel something is missing you won’t be wrong. You are picking up on the movie’s lack of grief given the magnitude of what it is showing — a global catastrophe and the loss of thousands of human lives. It is safe to assume that the film-maker wanted to tap into our deepest fears of the worst kind of attack on human kind. Apocalyptic themes fascinate us, but then the director should be able to give them the weight they emotionally deserve.

If you are a Brad Pitt fan or like this genre in particular, this is the movie for you. Otherwise, you aren’t missing out on much. And this is not the last we will see of Gerry Lane anyway. In the penultimate shots of the film, Pitt’s voice-over emphatically claims, ‘This isn’t the end, not even close.’ We know that in Hollywood, that’s just code for one word: sequel.

The walking dead

28 Days Later (2002)

1 Long before filmmaker Danny Boyle shot to Oscar glory with Slumdog Millionaire, he ventured into the zombie genre with 28 Days Later. Ironically, the movie shares several similarities with World War Z. However, it lacks the stupendous budget of WWZ and does rest on some substandard production values, particularly noticeable if you see it in today’s CGI-friendly age. However, it serves a different brand of horror, a more intimate and morbid one.

War of the Worlds (2005)

2 After the success of their 2002 collaboration, Minority Report, Tom Cruise and Steven Spielberg joined forces yet again for War of the Worlds. Set in a world where alien invasion threatens to wipe out mankind, the movie proved to be a darker and edgier take on aliens. Despite the grandeur and the dazzle of its special effects, the film makes a conscious effort to keep the story about a father’s affection. This arc helps maintain credibility and delivers some of the finest moments of the film.

Prometheus (2012)

3 The film is director Ridley Scott’s mysteriously frightening sci-fi flick about a quest for the creators of human life on a far-off planet. It is another feather in the cap of the talented filmmaker who has given us several unforgettable films such as The Gladiator. In the movie, Scott delivers a setting that is aesthetically a visual delight and offers a much-called for break from an overdose of CGI. All in all, Prometheus may not be a classic of any sorts, but it still manages to leave a solid mark in a genre.

Published in The Express Tribune, Sunday Magazine, July 14^th, 2013.

Like Express Tribune Magazine on Facebook, follow @ETribuneMag on Twitter to stay informed and join the conversation.

“How can you live in Pakistan? It’s so dangerous there,” says the bartender in the trendy Erbil bar. I point out that things aren’t exactly smooth in Iraq either, but then this is Kurdistan — that one corner in Iraq which has shaped itself into a safe, tourist-friendly haven.

Erbil — one of the oldest continuously habitated cities in the world, now in its 5th millennium — boasts modern construction all around it, but its heart is ancient. A citadel that sits on top of a hill is surrounded by a network of roads where bakers bake and traders trade the same way as they have done for centuries.

(Clockwise from top) Supporters of the KDP party wave flags at the foot of the ancient citadel. The Hamilton road cuts its way through the deep Gali Ali Baig. Iraq produces roughtly 12,000 metric tons of table olives per year and eats about 30,000 metric tons, importing, mostly from Turkey and Syria. The traditional Jli Kurdi or Kurdish attire for men.

People here are some of the friendliest you’ll meet — from the money changers who literally sit on the pavements with their bundles of notes and without any security, to the little kids running up to you pointing at your camera, and asking “Sahaafi?”

They speak candidly. An elderly man in a tea house says to me: “We love what America did to Saddam. But we hate what it did to Baghdad.”

(From the top, clockwise) Taking an afternoon break on a bench in the centre of Erbil, Iraq’s fourth largest city by most standards. A tank from Saddam Hussain’s dreaded army rusts in peace. The Iraqi tea house is where elders meet to gossip and play board games. Iraqi tea is often made with liberal amounts of cardamom and sugar. A rest stop pavilion by the Bekhal waterfall on the magnificent Hamilton road that links Iraq with neighbouring Iran.

The Kurds are battle-hardened folks, who are proud of their heritage. “Saladin, the hero of Islam, was a Kurd!” points out my guide Sardar as he speeds into the town named after the conqueror of Jerusalem. Even today, the Kurd soldier is called a Peshmarga, translated as ‘The one who faces death.’

We zoom up Hamilton Road, a magnificent highway carved through the mountains by a New Zealand engineer, and one that links Iraq and Iran. We cut through deep canyons, eat kebabs next to raging waterfalls, all the way to the Iran border where there are lush hills, shepherds and the odd oil tanker.

(From the top, clockwise) Shepherds have been grazing sheep in these lush hills near the Iran border for millenia.

This doesn’t feel like a war zone (except for a rusty tank left as a reminder). This is lovely. This is ancient Mesopotamia, thriving in the modern world.

Published in The Express Tribune, Sunday Magazine, July 14^th, 2013.

Like Express Tribune Magazine on Facebook, follow @ETribuneMag on Twitter to stay informed and join the conversation.

Agha Shahid Ali would have been proud. Were the famous Kashmiri poet alive today (he died in 2001), he would have surely commented on the publication of Towfeeq Wani’s 264-page novel The Graveyard: a saga of a million bloodstained flowers. Indeed, 17-year-old Wani’s description of the trials of a ‘half-widow’, a phrase that poetically refers to a woman whose life hangs in limbo because her husband is either the subject of an enforced disappearance or whose death is unconfirmed, could very well have come from an Agha Shahid Ali ghazal.

Wani is the face of a growing number of young Kashmiris who have struggled to find a less violent but just as effective way to fight their battles in the Indian-administered territory or process their pain.

Wani was a 13 year old living in Baramulla district in 2009 when a second mass uprising gripped the valley. He would spend most of his time alone in his room, watching at a tortured distance young men who looked like him pour into the streets. They hurled stones at the Indian security forces and were battered in return. Nearly 100 people were left dead in 2010. The Indian security forces responded savagely, still acting under the authority of the controversial Armed Forces Special Powers Act that was introduced 20 years earlier to end the first, 1989 uprising. Wani’s room filled with the anti-India slogans. His head became an echo chamber.

He began writing the novel while he was studying literature at Aligarh Muslim University. It tells the story of Sahil, a teenage boy, who lives with his half-widow mother, grandfather and a younger sister in the conflict zone. Wani shows his protagonist struggling to give meaning to his existence during the uprisings that ran from 2008 to 2010.

Wani thus got the shouting out of his head and on to the page: wailing widows, waiting half-widows, disappeared sons… “In a conflict zone, [the] youth register their protest through different methods… street protest, seminars, debates, songs or literature,” he says. “My medium is writing.”

As someone once famously theorised, novels write nations. Wani’s emotional narrative is likely to thus resonate with many Kashmiris. He has, in particular, tried to show how relationships are shaped and altered during such turbulent times. But more importantly, Wani’s exposition of the difference between a ‘martyr’ and a ‘benefactor’ will articulate important phenomena emerging from this long-running conflict. Those who died during the fighting are ‘martyrs’ and those who live and fight for the cause of freedom are ‘benefactors’.

“Why some people take to guns and stones while others choose writing, is because of the difference in their thinking,” he says. If you’re angry and full of rage you’ll pick up a stone and if you’re sober and patient, then you’ll pick up a pen.

The Graveyard was published by Power Publishers in Kolkata this June, and was scheduled for release on July 8 at Central University, Kashmir. It places Wani as the youngest novelist in Kashmir.

Many other young people are also writing, even if they are not necessarily interested in it as a profession. In her unpublished poem Razor wire, 21-year-old Areeba Nazir describes about how it twirls and twists in her “forgotten heaven”, line Dal lake, and the foothills of Zabarwan, row the gates of Nishat and Harwan.

“The situation in which I [was] brought up has urged me to write such poems,” she says. While she builds her portfolio she continues to contribute occasionally to newspapers in Kashmir.

These young writers come from a rich literary heritage. Baba Umar, a Doha-based journalist and a native of Kashmir, traces writing as a form of resistance to Dogra rule in the valley. He gives the example of legendary poet Peerzada Ghulam Ahmad ‘Mahjoor’ (1885-1952) who railed against the rulers. His work Bidad (The Complaint) gave rise to “one of the most popular slogans of anti-India brigade in Kashmir”, as Haroon Mirani reports in an article for the website Kashmir Newz on July 3 this year.

“[The] Kashmiri youth [were] mostly faced [with] questions [about] their history, identity and roots,” Umar says. This was a reaction to the “blinkered approach” used by colonial writers or pandits. According to Umar, also a recipient of the International Committee of Red Cross best humanitarian reporting award, this reinforced the need to “have local narrative[s], propounded and propagated by Kashmiri ‘warrior’ writers.”

This led many Kashmiris to write blogs, contribute to newspapers and magazines and write poems to inform the world about their experience. Blogs are most easily accessible. ‘Kashmir Truth to be Told’, maintained by Yousuf, is packed with hundreds of posts on Kashmir that date to 2006. Most of the posts here are stories of suffering. Other blogs such as ‘Kashmir’ are an ode to their homeland. On it blogger K writes, “The only knocks we heard were of the military or the militants. The only parades we witnessed were the military identification parades. The dreams we dreamt were shattered by the sound of bullets. The games we played were of death and life.”

Much of the events that have unfolded there are detailed in the news but fiction provides a much different perspective. “The pain of killings, torture, rapes and other human right violations have been strong enough to urge the youth to write,” says the president of the Media Federation of India, Kashmir Chapter, Shabir Hussain. “The wide coverage of our conflict has [awoken] Kashmiris to write their own narratives, rather than someone else writing for them.” 

Towfeeq Wani and The Graveyard which is available online at: Thevoxkashmir.com

Published in The Express Tribune, Sunday Magazine, July 14^th, 2013.

Like Express Tribune Magazine on Facebook, follow @ETribuneMag on Twitter to stay informed and join the conversation.