Vin Diesel is back as cult favorite for the third installment of the intergalactic, survivor series — Riddick. From the get-go, the movie assumes our familiarity with the character; he is a wanted convict being hunted by bounty hunters across galaxies. He has the ability to see in the dark, his CGI night-vision eyes constantly glistens as he puts his head down and gets the job done.

In a fairly straightforward plot, the movie picks off where it left off in The Chronicles of Riddick. After being betrayed by the Necromonger Vaako (Star Trek’s loveable doctor Karl Urban), who had promised to help him return to his home planet, Furya, in exchange for the throne, Riddick is left for dead on a barren broiling planet. He calls it Not Furya in a flash of uninspired humour. The first half of the movie is painfully slow and is mostly sans dialogue, filled with flashbacks of how Riddick got there, and his efforts to adapt to the bizarre surroundings. The opening sequence includes his fight for survival against various creepy crawlies, such as alien hyenas, giant slimy eels and vultures.

An imminent deadly storm prompts him to head to an abandoned post, where he transmits an emergency beacon to secure transport off the planet. As he’s a wanted fugitive, this prompts two groups of mercenaries to come running after him. He plans to wait, and between himself and the creepy crawlies, kills enough pursuers to steal their ship. Obviously, neither side finds it easy to locate Riddick, and when they finally do, they have to team up to battle the onslaught of vicious creatures that are brought in by a storm.

Santana, played by Jordi Molla, is the sleazebag who leads a group of bloodthirsty bounty hunters who want Riddick’s head as a trophy. Boss Johns, played by Matt Nable, has a more personal agenda and leads a more refined crew. Dahl, played by Katee Sackhoff, is Boss’s sidekick, and an expert sniper. She is also one of the highlights in the rebooted Battlestar Gallactica. In Riddick, being a strong female character means constantly encountering sexual harassment, at times from Riddick himself. More disappointingly, this only ends up making her fall for Riddick.

After seeing Diesel in the Fast and Furious franchise, in which he’s allowed to smile and actually act, Riddick feels more like a sack of potatoes. The funny-looking glasses that he wears to protect his sensitive eyes from the sun don’t help and thus, in this character, he is a far cry from the charismatic and at times sensitive Toretto, the masses love.

Only Riddick’s loyal fans will enjoy this movie, which has been upped to an R rating. The movie is nothing you haven’t seen before and lacks the whirlwind energy that has made Diesel’s recent projects successful. But if you want to watch a brooding, overly macho Diesel, then this is the movie for you.

Published in The Express Tribune, Sunday Magazine, September 22^nd, 2013.

Peshawar is a city where food is only considered food if there is plenty of it, it is well cooked and it is not spicy. The less complicated the better. This would, in part, explain why you will be spoiled for choice when it comes to tikka, mutton chops, karhai. Try Namakmandi and the Charsi Tikka on University Road or Taraskoon Restaurant a bit farther down. But you will be hard pressed to find pizza in Peshawar — there are only two major places that make it.

The very first pizzeria is generally said to be the famous Sultan Golden Pizza House near Army Stadium. It is believed to have been named after (and run by) Sultan Muhammad Khan Golden, the great motorcar and motorcycle stuntman and jumping specialist. Rumour has it, however, that he packed up his pizzeria after 9/11.

This left Peshawar with Pizza Hut at Captain Karnal Sher Khan, Stadium, Shami Road in the cantonment and Chief Burger on Jamrud Road.

Pizza Hut declined to speak to The Express Tribune, but Chief Burger was more than happy to tell its story.

The brains behind this business venture is Muhammad Mumtaz Ilahi. He trained for six years as a chef and administrator at the Serena Hotel in Islamabad and opened Chief Burger in 1984. They started out with just 20 customers. Then, Mumtaz Ilahi persuaded his brother who worked as a chef at a three-star hotel, to come back from the UAE. “I behaved like a big brother and brought my younger brother Babar Hussain Ilahi back to Peshawar to give lessons to our staff at Chief Burger on how to make pizza,” he explained. Babar Hussain came up with five different recipes and within three months, eight of their staffers had learnt how to make them. They added it to the menu in 2001.

This really helped business grow to about 150 customers a day. They were able to expand to four large halls and today they get about 500 diners daily, tended to by a staff of 90 which includes 13 dishwashers, 38 waiters, 14 helpers, and four supervisors.

Demand is so high that Muhammad Tahir, who has given 15 years of life to Chief Burger as a waiter, said he didn’t even have time to stop to breathe. There used to be a time when he could complete his sentences with co-workers, he says by way of example. But now there are nearly always 15 people waiting in line. “We get happy when we receive more and more customers which is a sign of living and not just being alive,” he said before rushing off to get the next order.

While they have 16 different kinds of pizzas, Mumtaz Ilahi says the Pakhtun prefer their chicken tikka one. Some of the choices are pure Italian, such as the Bologna, you’ll get the very American Hawaiian Delight and even the Four Seasons or the Mexican Chilli.

It appears, however, that the exotic don’t necessarily appeal to the K-P palette. “I would say that people here love their own traditional food so much that they want its flavour in their pizza, burgers and even in Chinese and Thai dishes,” Illahi adds. The Chief Burger owner knows that the secret to his success is giving people what they want.

And if you are finding it hard to decide, someone like Tasleem Khan, who has been working at Chief Burger for 12 years as a waiter, is happy to help. “It’s like feeding and serving humanity,” he says. Indeed, food is a serious business.

Quetta’s fastfood joints

A quick look at where you can go:

RV Pizza, Chilton road

Rahat Bakers. Arts School road

Baig Snack Bar, Jinnah Road

Pizza Point, Churmal Road

Dalan bakers Serena road

Palace bakery, Mission road

Dolphin bakery, Jinnah road

Cakes ’n cookies, Archer Road

Jan Broast, Prince Road

Khadim chaat house

Hot ’n spicy, Shahbaz Town

Hot ’n Chili, Shahbaz Town

QFC, Jinnah road

Kamal Chargha

Usmania restaurant, Jinnah road

Noorani, Airport road

Zamzama superstore, Airport road

Student Biryani, Shahwaksha road

Master Biryani, Shahwaksha road

Karachi Biryani

Published in The Express Tribune, Sunday Magazine, September 22^nd, 2013.

Developing countries like Argentina are getting rid of their compressed natural gas (CNG) and switching to bio fuels. But Pakistan can’t seem to get enough of it — indeed, we are importing the CNG kits that Argentina is getting rid of. In fact, people here have switched over so rapidly to CNG that today we have the highest number of CNG vehicles in the world. But is this a good thing?

Researchers from the Sustainable Development Study Center at GC University, Lahore decided to compare how much pollution is emitted by fuel type. Their findings were just published in a report titled, ‘A Comparison of Engine Emissions from Heavy, Medium, and Light Vehicles for CNG, Diesel, and Gasoline Fuels’ appeared in the Polish Journal of Environmental Studies.

The experts checked how much sulfur dioxide (think acid rain), carbon monoxide, smoke, nitrogen monoxide and hydrocarbons were produced. They were worried because Lahore has an estimated five million vehicles.

SOURCE: POLISH JOURNAL OF ENVIRONMENTAL STUDIES

As it turns out, using CNG is generally good but only depending on the type of vehicle. “It is not as clean as people think,” cautioned Dr Abdullah Yasar, the primary author of the paper. It tends to produce some emissions more than diesel and gasoline.

So for example, when heavy vehicle engines switched from diesel to CNG, their harmful emissions went down. The same happens when diesel cars start using CNG. But when cars on gasoline start using CNG, they ended up producing more harmful nitrogen monoxide. The experts found the same problem with 4-stroke CNG rickshaws — they produced more nitrogen monoxide than a gasoline rickshaw.

The experts also found that CNG engines produced nine to 20 times of another harmful gas, carbon monoxide, than diesel engines. For example, the CNG van engine added 8.7 times carbon monoxide to the air compared to the diesel van engine.

The problem is that CNG engines work at temperatures that convert the atmospheric nitrogen gas to nitrogen monoxide.

Lahore’s vehicle population is 5m

Aside from these technical aspects of using CNG, experts like Dr Yasar are concerned about the stay orders CNG stations have acquired in Lahore to operate in residential areas. “In many cases they share walls with schools,” he said, citing hazards in cases of explosions.

For now, though, despite shortages, it seems that Pakistan can’t seem to kick its CNG habit. The future is, according to Dr Yasar, hydrogen gas that is being tested in Japan. “For the last 20 years or so they have been making prototypes and testing for safety,” he said. And if it works out, well, all our cars will produce is steam. 

Published in The Express Tribune, Sunday Magazine, September 22^nd, 2013.

The funny thing is that most people who use it think that Naswar is a safe drug. They are perhaps not aware that the WHO found this smokeless form of tobacco has a minimum of 28 cancer-causing agents. They include compounds such as arsenic and nickel, plus radio-elements such as polonium, uranium, beryllium.

Naswar is a mixture of sun-dried, sometimes only partially cured, powdered local tobacco, ash, oil, flavouring agents (eg cardamom, menthol), colouring agents (indigo or yellow) and lime or calcium carbonate, water and guar gum. Ammonium chloride is added as a preservative and to give it bite. It is usually sold in round or square plastic packets held with a rubber band to keep it from exposure to the air. A single packet costs Rs10 and can yield up 20 pinches. Unlike chewing tobacco, naswar is taken as a pinch and packed into the jowl. It used to come in special steel snuff boxes but those are rare these days. The tins would come fixed with a vanity mirror men used if they wanted to fix their comb-over.

The sun-dried, sometimes only partially cured, powdered local tobacco is crushed between two big curved stones fixed to the floor

The Yousufzai dialect speakers of Pashto call it naswar and the people in the southern districts of Khyber-Pakhtunkhwa and Waziristan refer to it as kap or nasor, however, in Karachi where the largest population of Pakhtuns are said to live, it is naswar no matter what size or shape it comes in. It is a common misperception that only the Pathan is addicted to naswar. It has not spared any ethno-linguistic group, from the Sindhi- to the Hindko-speaking populations.

Karachi is also among the biggest markets for naswar where tons of it are consumed daily. One of the best places to get some is Keamari but it is also sold in Banaras and old Sabzi Mandi.

Oil, flavouring agents (eg cardamom, menthol), colouring agents (indigo or yellow) are added to the tobacco and then water and guar gum

Namus Khan, originally from Bajaur Agency, has earned a bit of a name for his supply at Keamari’s Jackson Bazaar where he is assisted by his 20-year-old son Ayub Khan. Their naswar is said to reach almost every part of the city and their daily sale comes to about Rs20,000. One of the reasons for their popularity is experience. Khan is said to be the first man in the city to install a naswar-making machine around three decades ago. The entire street is now infamous as Naswari Street. But Khan even owns a ‘branch’ at Empress Market.

“Four people, including me, work from morning till night making and packing the packets of naswar,” says Khan. “We produce around 300 kilograms a day but this is still not enough to meet demand.”

Right at the end the and lime or calcium carbonate is added and it is left in the open to air a bit before it is packed

The tobacco and ash, particularly from the sheesham tree, comes from Swabi district of Khyber-Pakhtunkhwa and Jampur of Ranjanpur in Punjab. The other ingredients are available in Lea Market in Karachi. A supplier of the key ingredients to Karachi, Khalid Khan, says that he brings tobacco in a 50 kilogramme sack for Rs7,000 and the same quantity of Swabi ash costs Rs1,200.

The tobacco is crushed between two big curved stones fixed to the floor. A pair of wooden hammers run by an electric machine hit it for 10 minutes. “The hammer hits the tobacco so hard and fast that it burns and their colours turn black,” explains Lal Jahan, who has prepared naswar in Keamari for over 30 years. Then the ash and guar gum come next. The calcium carbonate, colour and ammonium chloride (locally called naushadar) are added right in the end. The more you crush the tobacco the stronger the naswar. It takes about two hours to make a batch.

This is all hard work, however. Namus Khan says the average man can’t do it. The constant smell of the tobacco makes you vomit, gives you headaches and leads to skin rashes or itchiness. “Those who make and pick it can’t be addicted to it because of their exposure to it all the day,” he says. “But for those who are hooked on naswar it is impossible to go a few minutes without having some or ensuring there is some in your hand or pocket.”

Naswar, much like smoking, has a disastrous first encounter. “Almost everyone vomits with the first intake and swears that they will never touch it again,” says Abdul Majid, a young man who came to buy some at Namus Khan’s at a half past midnight. “But if they take it again, they will be addicted. At least it is better than cigarettes.” His habit is so bad that he starts to feel anxious if he doesn’t have it in his pocket or somewhere close by. He warns that if your supply runs out you start to get irritated and angry and get a headache. That’s why he was there in the middle of the night to score some more.

Published in The Express Tribune, Sunday Magazine, September 22^nd, 2013.

The younger breed of indie bands is an eccentric lot, painstakingly tiptoeing away from any hints of mass appeal.

The word ‘Indie’ comes from ‘independent’. And while such musicians in other parts of the world do manage to make a decent income without the help of major record labels, most of them in Pakistan are shelling out money from their own pockets to make music.

But that doesn’t keep these 20-somethings from recording and releasing their tracks, especially when elaborate studio equipment or acoustically treated rooms are not necessarily required to create a great sounding record. No label required either; upload your songs on to one of the popular music-sharing sites such as SoundCloud, or better yet, shoot a video with your inexpensive DSLR camera.

“It’s about doing something in the day for work and doing what makes you happy at night,” says doctor-slash-musician Salman Younus Khan. Younas and Saad Munzar, who together form Basheer & The Pied Pipers, went to medical school. But they couldn’t resist the lure of a good tune. Their dense, hypnotic music illustrates why these two chose the profession they did — ghastly sounds don’t make their stomachs churn. They have two EPs under their belt, ‘Basheer’ and ‘Paperclouds’. Both exhibit a fair bit of musicianship and computer trickery.

Most ‘underground’ bands in the past have relied on an overdose of guitars, but the trend is now changing. The guy with the acoustic guitar around a bonfire isn’t attracting a lot of attention from the girls, because frankly, there are very few bonfires. With all the musicians and music enthusiasts huddled up in front of their computers, a strange blend of electronic and organic sounds is brewing.

//Orangenoise presents a problem before a listen. How do you pronounce a name that begins with two forward slashes? These self-proclaimed ‘psychedelic chappalgazers’ (a throwback on the term ‘navel gazing’) need a manual to explain the quirky references they throw out. Shoegazing is a sub-genre of alternative rock. It often includes an army of stomp boxes and effects pedals that the musician may set foot on at his discretion; hence, the term shoegazing and ‘Chappalgazers’.

//Orangenoise performed in Uth Records, produced by Pakistan’s ace drummer ‘Gumby’, in 2012. They also get regular airplay on local and international radio. The band was even featured on social news and entertainment website Reddit’s Listen To This Best of 2012.

The noise in their album A Journey to the Heart of Matter is quite agreeable. Most effects are wrapped over live instruments, indicating that the band is not using them as a crutch but as an extension of their ideas. They may be fond of creating a racket, but some sing-along moments ensure it’s not all orange: the blues peek through, albeit briefly.

Unsurprisingly, frontman Talha Asim Wynne points out that his band is not looking for superstardom. “A small label is all right, but as an indie band, a big*** label is just not us,” he says.

Popularity is a strange thanksgiving, often finding refuge in the unlikeliest of places. And Lahore-based Poor Rich Boy might have seen a glimpse of this, dare we say, fair weather friend. Plucking the ukulele strings, this folksy outfit is stirring hearts with their hummable songs and poignant lyrics. Those who give them a listen are bound to be smitten.

Comprising, among others, teachers of music and literature, the band Poor Rich Boy possess a rare finesse. As a result, the insight reflected in their songs is hard to miss. This band tackles complex subjects with simple earnestness and its work is layered with messages of love and politics. For example, the song Fair Weather Friend is about our relationship with China. Unfortunately, they have chosen to write their songs in English, and that too using metaphors and vocabulary most will frown upon. ‘Silver-tongued seraphim circling the spire’ being a case in point.

But not all bands are consciously trying to dodge fame or stand out. “I’ve never thought of what sets my music apart from everyone else’s. That doesn’t matter much to me,” says Shajie Hassan, frontman of indie-rock band ‘Shajie’. “All that matters, is [that] it leaves me content and that’s about all I expect from it.”

Shajie’s three singles — Dosti Pyar, Oonchay Dost and Battakhain — are already doing the rounds on social media and radio. They also released a new song called Hockey on an episode of City Sessions FM89. Judging by his songs, Shajie does not seem averse to the idea of mainstream appreciation.

Another talented musician who plays for a number of bands echoes the sentiment. “We have no reservations over the idea of going commercial as long as the suits aren’t asking us to do a rock rendition of Billo de Ghar,” Muhammad Ali Suhail says of one of his ventures called Jumbo Jutt.

He is, however, as terrified of the idea of having to compromise on his music for commercial gains as the others. “With all my projects, you can tell I love and play all kinds of music. But I’m ‘indie’ by default. Not many people help independent musicians grow here. We have to do things on our own.”

And the 24-year-old is doing many things. He plays a number of stringed instruments (ukulele, banjo, guitar and bass) for a number of bands — Jumbo Jutt, Sikandar ka Mandar, Joomi and Shajie. Suhail’s solo expedition in the form of an EP titled Words from Boxes shows he will continue to make music, with or without a little help from his friends.

But music loves company. And Nadir Shahzad Khan from Sikandar ka Mandar is adamant about providing indie musicians a platform to perform and collaborate. His initiative ‘Lussun TV’ is a music and skit show featuring lesser known bands experimenting with all sorts of sounds.

The idea for the project came to Nadir in 2010 when he began to make funny videos for YouTube with his friends. He later added a song here and a song there and the whole thing came to life. Eventually, with the help of music producer Rohail Hyatt, Nadir was able to turn it into a regular show. //Orangenoise, Mole and Basheer & The Pied Pipers are some of the bands that have featured in the first two seasons while the third is set to be released in about a month.

After the YouTube ban was imposed last September, Nadir had to find another forum for his show. Undeterred, he chose video-sharing site Vimeo to release the episodes, using Facebook and other social networking sites to promote the music.

The ban on YouTube has been a huge loss for musicians in terms of outreach. The video-sharing site allowed virtually unknown artists such as Ali Gul Pir and Beghairat Brigade to go viral. But just like the latter’s song Dhinak Dhinak has indicated, censorship in the country is an arbitrary affair and if musicians are to continue making music they need to be prepared to suffer more than a few setbacks.

Some have not relied on videos at all. Bumbu Sauce came up with a grinding rock tune Mojambo that caught attention as soon as it hit the airwaves across the country. Abundant airplay on radio helped the band attract fans and soon the word caught on. Replete with driving guitar riffs and tongue-in-cheek lyrics, Bambu Sauce got young listeners scratching their heads asking, ‘what is the scene?’

The scene, however, is serene. There are few concerts and even fewer for bands making the kind of music most indie musicians do. In the absence of having the opportunity to play in front of an audience, the art of performance has suffered a significant blow. Only a handful of places such as The 2nd Floor and MAD School in Karachi and The Guitar School in Lahore allow musicians to perform in front a select but appreciative audience.

Of course those who do come to listen to these bands love the music and their support keeps the musicians going. “We perform once a month on average and our audience is about 150 to 200 people. What matters is that it is a very loyal cult of people,” says Nadir.

Being loyal to their music is what these bands consider a sacred vow. None of them are willing to ‘sell their soul’. Unconsciously or otherwise, these musicians are relentlessly swimming against the tides of conformity. They insist on creating what is to them an expression of their selves. But the music is not always inaccessible — the hipsters on the other side are as unconventional. And the language is universal.

Published in The Express Tribune, Sunday Magazine, September 22^nd, 2013.

People reacted strangely when I announced I was going to Sarajevo with some friends. From my parents to the immigration officers at the Karachi airport, and even the Bosnian ambassador in Islamabad, there was not a single person who did not raise their eyebrows in utter bewilderment. It’s understandable; Sarajevo has a disturbing past.

The siege of Sarajevo, which lasted from 1992 to 1995, has often been referred to as the ‘Holocaust of the ’90s, during which more than 10,000 people were killed by the Bosnian Serbs. The Srebrenica Genocide of 1995 is estimated at 8,000 Bosnian Muslims. Twenty years later, to those who have not followed how Bosnia rebuilt itself, Sarajevo is still considered ‘dangerous’.

The Eternal Flame. PHOTO: KHAULA JAMIL

But Sarajevo’s tainted past gives the city character. There is a terrifying story around each corner, and to get to know them, we attempted to figure out the less-touristy locations after an initial introduction to the city.

Several companies around the city offer war tours with poignant names such as ‘Never forget Srebrenica’ or ‘Times of Misfortune’. We opted for the latter and visited Kovači, the largest graveyard of Sarajevo, with 1,487 officially buried Muslims and fallen soldiers. Standing in a graveyard dotted with white graves, it was chilling and yet inspiring to be amongst the many brave men who gave up their lives for their country.

Veteran of the Bosnian war who walks around Old Town in full uniform, selling an article he wrote about his experience during the war. PHOTO: KHAULA JAMIL

A hill climb later, we could view Sarajevo in all its aesthetic and historic glory. The hills surrounding the city were lined with tall dark trees which concealed their own bloody tale. “Look there towards the black forests,” our guide said pointing towards the trees looming further up in the mountains above the city. “On the other side of those forests and mountains is Serbia, and that is where the Serbian snipers were always [stationed],” he said as he looked down at the exposed city of Sarajevo. “People down there were just sitting ducks for them.”

Amid the tales of bloodshed and doom, things like the famous Tunnel of Hope served as a reminder of the city’s humanity and courage. Built under the home of an elderly couple, Mr and Mrs Kolar, the tunnel acted like a lifeline for Sarajevo when the Serbs cut off all their supplies and contact with the outside world. Walking through the reconstructed tunnel, I kept imagining the soldiers who frequented the half-flooded hole with supplies every night, armed with just a torchlight and a passion to save their city.

A Sarajevo Rose. PHOTO: KHAULA JAMIL

Surrounded with memorabilia of the war, it was easy to play out in your mind hat must have happened during those nights. There is even a video of the elderly Mrs Kolar, who became affectionately known as Nana Sida after she served for three consecutive years, waiting at the mouth of the tunnel holding a jug of water and handing it out to every soldier who exited.

Scattered reminders of the war both haunt and uplift Sarajevo. On a walking tour of the Austro-Hungarian part of the city, we stopped to take in a reminder of a time when there was no violence in the name of religion. Tito Street bears the Eternal Flame, a memorial for those who died in World War II. Our guide recited what the flame stood for as written on the memorial — courage, bravery and solidarity.

Area called Kundurdziluk, Bascarsija in Sarajveo. PHOTO: KHAULA JAMIL

The same guide took us through the old city, to the vivid stalls of fruit and vegetables at the Markale Market. One of the biggest shelling attacks had taken place here during the siege, killing up to 66 people who had been shopping at the market. A glass case covers the shell now, which like all other shell marks on the road has been covered with resin or red rubber to preserve them. These marks are known as the ‘Sarajevo Roses’.

Portrait display of 600 of the 8,000 Muslims massacred in the Srebrenica Genocide at Gallery 11/07/95. PHOTO: KHAULA JAMIL

While each location told its own story, the people were not too keen to speak of the past. From former soldiers who were once wounded in the war and were now working as translators, taxi drivers, memorabilia salesmen or shop keepers, to young college students, everyone was aware of the dark history but admitted that it was still very “hush hush”.

They may not be keen on talking about it, but the people of Sarajevo are determined to move on. The city has rebuilt its war-torn surroundings and its inhabitants display a high level of tolerance.

The domed monument in the Kovaci (martyrs) Cemetery is the grave of President Alija Izetbegovic, who died in October 2003. He led Bosnia to independence in 1992.  PHOTO: KHAULA JAMIL

I took something back from Sarajevo that I have never taken from any other city I have visited — hope. Real hope, that if the Bosnians can figure out how to live together after a harsh war of hate, maybe we have a chance as well.

Published in The Express Tribune, Sunday Magazine, October 27^th, 2013.

Certain milestones in life come with too much pressure. Turning 25 or having lived a quarter of your life features prominently on that list.

Perhaps it is the pressure of graduating from adolescence to adulthood for good and having something worthwhile to show for it. Or maybe it is the looming threat of a quarter life crisis that might leave you feeling lost, lonely and confused.

There is also the added pressure from those around you with countless lists defining what one should or should not have done, seen, felt or experienced by the time they make that life-altering leap towards turning 25.

So, instead of assessing yourself using theoretical benchmarks, let’s take a look at what some accomplished people in Pakistan were doing at that defining age and whether there are any standard formulas for nailing it.

Q. Where were you at the age of 25 and what were you doing?

I had just returned from the United States after completing my studies and joined the Pakistan Administrative Staff College, Lahore — the country’s premier training institution for civil servants. I was the youngest member of their teaching faculty and was training new entrants to Foreign Service.

Q. Were you involved in the same field that you are today?

Not at all. I was in the field of education and professional training of new civil servants. But since 1977 was the ‘summer of discontent’ in Lahore with the Pakistan National Alliance (PNA) agitation at its peak, I used to go to political rallies, sometimes driven by my colleague and friend, Ambassador Akram Zaki, or the now Senator Kamil Ali Agha on his motorbike because he knows the inner city of Lahore like the palm of his hand.

Q. Did you ever think you would be this successful some day?

There was always a desire to excel and an ambition to succeed in whatever one was endeavoring to do, but I had no idea that destiny would be so kind.

Q. If you met your 25-year-old self today, what advice would you give to the young Mushahid?

Treat life like a marathon race with all its twists and turns and ups and downs. Never give up, have faith in the future and, given a bit of luck, you’ll Inshallah make it!

Q. Where were you at the age of 25 and what were you doing?

I was in Lahore, working as a guest relations manager at Intercontinental Hotel. I worked there for a year and received a regional award for my performance. But as luck would have it, I was offered a role in Shehzad Khalil’s play Panah Do at the same time. I accepted the offer and my life changed completely that year.

Q. Did you ever think you would be this successful some day?

I think I was focused and confident. But it was always others people who made decisions for me. I should have done what I wanted to do from a much earlier age.

Q. If you ran into your 25-year-old self today, what advice would you give her?

If I meet that long-haired girl with her big eyes, full of dreams, I would stop her from refusing all the opportunities that had come her way. From theatre to modelling, to films to TV, I would urge her to try everything.

Q. Where were you at the age of 25 and what were you doing?

I was in Lahore and a mother of two at the time. I spent my days looking after them and nurturing my tiny budding tailoring enterprise that I had started in my verandah.

Q. Did you ever think you would make it someday?

I never stopped to think. I was always doing six things at the same time.

Q. If you met your younger self today, what would you tell her?

When it comes to going after what you love in life, don’t take no for an answer. Live your passion and try to get rid of anything that isn’t useful, beautiful or joyful.

Q. Where were you at the age of 25 and what were you doing?

I was playing cricket, listening to classical music by Baray Ghulam Ali sahib and Ravi Shankar along with the usual pop bands of the time such as Rolling Stones, The Beatles and The Beach Boys. I also had my own band called ‘Knights’ and I used to play the guitar with them. There were five places around the city that used to host parties, with Waheed Murad’s residence being one of them. I remember performing there for Rs500 per night. When I wasn’t performing, I used to paint every night from 10pm to 1am.

Q. At the time, did you ever think you would be this successful?

Tha, yaqeen tha. Kyon kay meri per-nani kehti thin, jab mein unsay chaar annay mangta tha, tou who yeh kehti thin, hum nahin hoon gay magar tu aik din bara aadmi banay ga (Yes, I think I knew even then. When I used to go to my great grandmother to ask for money, she used to say that I would be famous one day but she won’t be around to see it.)

Q. If you met your 25-year-old self today, what advice would you give him?

Hum Musalmaan hain, humara aik hi janam hota hai! Hum doosray janam ko nahin mantay hain! (We are Muslims, we only have a single lifetime, and hence we must achieve whatever we want in this life)

Q. Where were you at the age of 25 and what were you doing? 


I had just gotten done with my college in USA and had returned to Pakistan. Once I came to Karachi, I headed straight to the Sindh Assembly to see the proceedings where I met Hameed Haroon in the gallery who dragged me to the DAWN group. The rest as they say, is history.

Q. Were you clear about what you wanted to do even then? 



I was cutting my teeth as a journalist. I loved it then, I love it even now. Ink is in my veins.

Q. Did you ever think you would be this successful some day? 


At 25, I thought the world was my oyster. It’s better than that today. 
I found the pearls with it as well, my family.

Q. If you met your 25-year-old self today, what advice would you give to the young Sherry? 


Worry less. Stop being anxious about how much you haven’t done. Take some time out for yourself. Plant a few more trees. Back-up your files. Learn how to paint.

Q. Where were you at the age of 25 and what were you doing?

I was in Karachi, working as a business analyst at Engro at the time. My first job was in HSBC, which I left in February 1985 to join Engro. I became CEO of one of Engro’s subsidiaries at the age of 36 and was serving as CEO of Engro by the age of 42.

Q. Did you ever think your life would follow the trajectory that it did?

No. I was in the corporate sector back then and now I am in politics. I don’t think I ever even thought about becoming a CEO back then. It never occurred to me. I didn’t plan it.

Q. If you met your 25-year-old self today, what would you tell him?

Follow your passion and concentrate on doing things that matter, such as striving to change society for the better. Achieving goals of an immediate nature like getting a promotion or a raise are far less important than following one’s true passion.

Q. Where were you at the age of 25 and what were you doing?

I was in Pakistan until June and working as a model. I did some fantastic campaigns and shows during the time and also worked briefly at an advertising firm. Side by side, I also dabbled in TV dramas and worked on Rosy with Sahira Kazmi. In June the same year, I got married and moved to Houston, Texas. Over there, I enrolled in an art programme for painting and sculpture and also got admission for my Master’s degree in art. I was also a housewife and was cooking, cleaning and painting at the same time.

Q. Did you ever think you would become one of the pioneers for event management in Pakistan one day?

Yes! I was very ambitious then also. I had already graduated top of my class. I had honorary admissions in Ivy League graduate schools like Columbia and University of Pennsylvania, but I wanted to be an artist and sculptor. I was also a supermodel and had offers to work in Bollywood films, but I never thought I would become a producer and CEO of the leading event/public relations company, let alone the first modelling agency in Pakistan!

Q. Where were you at the age of 25 and what were you doing?

I was in London, working as a British Civil Servant in the then department of health and social security.

Q. Did you ever think your life would follow the trajectory that it did?

Absolutely not — a career in life insurance had never even crossed my mind.

Q. Did you ever think you would be this successful some day?

Success is relative. But I did have high standards, and even though I wasn’t married at that time, I always wanted to be in a position where I could provide a good quality of life for those who were going to be dependent on me.

Q. If you met the 25-year-old Taher today, what advice would you give him?

Don’t be influenced by the limited expectations of people around you. Aim high and always stay true to your commitments.

Q. Where were you at the age of 25 and what were you doing?

It had just been a year since I started modelling. I was only working for people I knew earlier, but that year I started doing it professionally. That year, I also acted in my first PTV play Kal. Also, a fashion publication did the first write-up on me and my first cover for Fashion Collection was also released that year.

Q. At the time, did you think you would become a modeling sensation one day?

No, no, not at all! I had gone into modeling right after I got out of college. My friends were shocked that I’d become a fashion model because I used to be a complete introvert. But as we speak today, I think I have come full circle since I have gone back to being an introvert.

Q. Where were you at the age of 25 and what were you doing?

I was working as an assistant commissioner and sub divisional magistrate in Nawabshah at the time.

Q. Did you ever think your life would follow the trajectory that it did?

No. I am currently engaged in academia and not in public policy and civil service, but I had set goals for myself to always strive for excellence in whatever field I chose. As a student, my degree was in chemistry. After joining the Civil Services, I found that education was of very little use and I had to acquire new skills. I had just gotten married but I decided to switch gears and went to Williams College for my Masters in development economics. My first child was born while I was studying there and that time was very taxing, emotionally and financially. But I didn’t give up the struggle and went abroad again to pursue my PhD. I had two young kids and a very minimal stipend, which wasn’t enough to support a family. But all the hard work paid off when I was selected by the World Bank through an open international competitive selection process.

Q. If you met your 25-year-old self today, what would you tell him?

Whatever you choose to do, try to put in your best efforts. Don’t look for shortcuts, and be sincere and committed. Allah will confer His blessings on you.

Q. Where were you at the age of 25 and what were you doing?

I was a counselor and was campaigning for Air Martial (Retd) Asghar Khan’s Tehrik-e-Istaqlal.

Q. Did you ever think you would be this successful some day?

I was sure that one day I would be the MNA from Rawalpindi city.

Q. If you met your 25-year-old self today, what advice would you give to your younger self?

If I had a chance to meet the young Sheikh Rasheed, I would have told him, “Well done and thank you young man, you have provided me [a] base for my success.”

Success may take various forms. Some people grow up knowing exactly what they want, and life for them is a series of carefully maneuvered steps tailored to achieve that. Others are wanderers, keen to carve their own path, even if that means a life of endless trial and error. Some might get it right in the first attempt while others have to continue reinventing themselves for decades. To keep trying is almost as important as getting there, and hence age, gender and social background should be treated as variables. As the famous American baseball player Satchel Paige once said, “How old would you be if you didn’t know how old you was?” A question we should all ask ourselves once in a while.

Published in The Express Tribune, Sunday Magazine, October 27^th, 2013.

There is no escaping from Prisoners. This masterfully directed psychological thriller from auteur Denis Villeneuve is so intense that its haunting melancholy will hold you captive long after the film ends. This will especially hold true if you are a parent, in which case the film may leave you in a temporary state of paranoia.

The film forces you to think about uncomfortable questions such as the twisted depths to which a parent will sink, in order to save their abducted child. The answers are so uneasy, and the stakes so high, that it may break a lot of your convictions.

The film stars Hugh Jackman (Keller Dover) as a religious carpenter in a powerful performance that is truly magnificent, and easily the best of his career.

The film begins with Keller, a loving father, who alongside his wife Grace (Maria Bello), son Ralph (Dylan Minnette), and daughter Anna (Erin Gerasimovich), is visiting family friends and neighbors, the Birches, for Thanksgiving dinner. After dinner, Anna asks her parents if she can leave with Joy Birch (Kyla Drew Simmons) to play at the Dover home. Anna’s parents reluctantly agree on the condition that the kids be chaperoned by their elder siblings.

What follows is a parent’s worst nightmare, and a plot ripped straight from American headlines.

After both children fail to return after some time, Keller discovers to his alarm that they left unescorted. Alongside Joy’s father, Franklin Birch (Terrence Howard), Keller frantically combs the neighborhood until he realizes the children are truly missing. The only clue the two families have is an RV, spotted outside of the Birch home while the girls were playing outside.

Coming to the aid of the desperate families is Detective Loki (Jake Gyllenhaal), who backed by the local police, manages to locate the RV. Unfortunately, the RV carries no evidence that it was involved in the abduction.

Complicating the entire situation is the fact that the driver of the RV and the primary suspect, Alex Jones (Paul Dano), is a grown man with the I.Q. of a ten-year-old. Moreover, he provides Loki with no solid reason to suspect him. After he is released, however, he tantalizingly hints to Keller privately that he knows more than he has been letting on. Keller, frustrated with the release of Alex, kidnaps him, and later with Franklin’s assistance, tortures Alex using elaborate techniques.

With his nostrils often flaring, Hugh Jackman is stunningly convincing as a desperate father who must channel his inner psychopath in order to find his daughter. You feel torn between being sympathetic towards Alex and yet being able to relate to Keller’s agony, who is also held hostage by the situation.

Gyllenhaal, playing a detective so burdened by his job that he develops a very noticeable eye twitch, delivers a particularly powerful performance. The chemistry between Jackman and Gyllenhaal is also strong, with the detective looking to rein in the impatient father’s aggression, as the two main characters engage in a tug of wills.

Prisoners is a complex multi-layered film that does justice to its multiple themes. Matching the darkness of these layers is the film’s visually intoxicating cinematography, sporting simple backdrops that are given a suitably grim look by the gritty camerawork.

Prisoners’ narrative twists and turns like a maze, featuring surprises that will leave you guessing as often as the film’s principal characters. Disappointingly, some of the major set-pieces are foreshadowed a little too well, leaving little room for surprise. That being said, after a terrorizing ride, a little cheap satisfaction is somewhat welcome.

For more on Criminal takedown, watch

Silence of the Lambs (1991)

Starring Anthony Hopkins and Jodie Foster, the film won five academy awards, and put Hannibal Lector on the map as one of the greatest villains ever seen on film. The film started a trend, and established a blueprint for other psychological thrillers to follow.

Se7en (1995)

Starring Brad Pitt and Morgan Freeman, the film featured a richly dark narrative, and an ending that blew cinemagoers away. However what most people don’t know is that the director, David Fincher was initially sent the wrong script by mistake, but he remained adamant that the producers stuck to it.

Zodiac (2007)

Also directed by David Fincher, the film is based on a true story of a series of complex and perplexing murders which law enforcement officials to this day have not been able to solve. The killer, Zodiac, sent taunting letters to both newspapers and the police during his horrifying killing spree.

Published in The Express Tribune, Sunday Magazine, November 3^rd, 2013.a

With its hair coiffed neatly in a bun and a sparkly diamond tiara perched on its head, a black cat is plopped at the center of a matte, gold spray-painted rectangular tray. Strands of hair fall neatly on her forehead and her whiskers curl outward. She sits gracefully, in a black dress and a pearl and diamond necklace around her furry neck. For a market that does not see much innovation, such designs for a tea tray are a breath of fresh air.

As style dictates, concepts change over the years, infusing new into the old. Trays too, have gone through similar innovation and the ordinary platter essential for everyday use has transformed into extraordinary pieces of art, to express personal style.

Maira Chinoy Orders can be placed through Maira Chinoy’s official Facebook page. PHOTOS: MAIRA CHINOY

“I feel that the style of trays has evolved as people are more willing to express themselves through design,” says Maira Chinoy of Maira Chinoy designs. “Everyone is looking for something unique — colours, images, and patterns allow for this expression.” Handmade wooden trays are Chinoy’s specialty, each distinct in design and limited in stock. A French technique known as decoupage is used for the tray’s paint and finish, which Chinoy learnt while completing her Masters degree in interior design from Florence, Italy. To make her trays look like paintings brought to life, Chinoy is strict about the quality and imports her raw materials from Italy and Canada. From stacking cosmetics and jewelry to organising letters or simply being used to serve drinks and food, the trays are multi-purpose.

An Andy Warhol-inspired design philosophy reflects in the work of both Chinoy and Maira Pagganwala , the designer behind the neon trays sold under the Karachi Tee Party label. Pagganwala, who has previously designed t-shirts, recently introduced her eccentric line of trays, “I’m always on the lookout for funky home accessories and I love things that pop,” she says. “Unfortunately, there aren’t many options available in Karachi so I decided to experiment and make some trays. I took some of my favorite images and had them painted on bright backgrounds.”

Salina Taqi is a client and fan of both designers’ creations. “I like the subtle elegance in Maira Chinoy’s trays and the added in Maira Pagganwala’s trays,” she says. She uses her funky Karachi Tee Party tray as a decorative piece in her drawing room and uses Chinoy’s tray to stack cosmetics in her dressing room.

The contemporary twist to the traditional tray designs is not just limited to these two but can be seen all across the market. Zeenat Ahmed, the owner of Taneez, one of the largest repository of silver-plated home accessories in Pakistan uses metal, a traditional medium for her trays but adds her own touch to it. Ahmed’s trays are also one of a kind, some molded in the shapes of apples and butterflies.

Taneez  Available in Karachi, Lahore, Islamabad and Toronto. PHOTOS: TANEEZ

“We use an age-old process known as naqsheen, [in which] each piece is handmade with engraving and cutwork,” she says. The intricately designed trays are also adorned with semi-precious stones like agate, lapis lazuli, turquoise and marble, making them more suitable as decoration pieces and presents. “Our trays serve as popular gifts for ambassadors and heads of states,” claims Zeenat. “[But] they can also be used as cake trays or platters at weddings.”

From bright neon to hues of gold and white, these limited collection trays come with everything from lips and moustaches to more subtle designs like butterflies and flowers. So be a little experimental this season and serve your goodies with a tinge of your personal flavour.

Published in The Express Tribune, Sunday Magazine, November 3^rd, 2013.a

Thalassemia major is a condition in which patients need blood transfusions to survive where as thalassemia minor is a carrier state. The root cause is the marriage between two thalassemia minor carriers, making it an inherited genetic blood disorder.

Doctors urge people to take the thalessemia carrier test, also known as a trait study before marriage, to prevent the rise of thalessemia majors. Every couple about to tie the knot will now have to undergo a blood test for thalessemia before their nuptials, according to a law passed in the Sindh Assembly on September 19, 2013.

Cousin marriages are the biggest cause of thalessemia.
Source: Dr Nasreen Qaiser, head of Community Medicine Department at Nishtar Hospital

Around 5% of the population is a carrier of thalessemia minor.  Source: Ayesha Mehmood, spokesperson for FAiTh — Fight Against Thalassemia

To be safe, the antenatal test, known as the chorionic villous sampling, should be done after every 14 weeks of pregnancy to save the child from the possibility of thalessemia.

The estimated cost of an uncomplicated bone marrow transplant ranges from Rs1.8m to Rs2m. On average, the National Institute of Blood Disease & Bone Marrow Transplantation (NIBD) performs 3 bone marrow transplants a month.

Source: Dr Mahwish Taj at NIBD

At the Fatimid foundation, a blood transfusion can cost anywhere between Rs1,000 to Rs2,000. At other hospitals, the rates can go up to Rs5,000 to Rs10,000.

Thalassemia minors require less aggressive treatment or no treatment at all. They live a normal life and do not experience any particular symptoms. Due to a lack of both symptoms and awareness of the disorder, carriers do not normally have themselves tested.

For a bone marrow transplant, doctors prefer children under the age of 10 with a complete HLA (Human leukocyte antigen, a key part of the human immune system) matched donor.

Nearly 4,000 children in Pakistan are born with thalessemia major each year and currently there are 100,000 people suffering from this condition.
Source: Fatimid Foundation

For a thalessemia major, regular blood transfusions are required after every two to three weeks to survive. But a bone marrow transplant is the only complete cure.

Aga Khan University Hospital, Karachi

National Institute of Blood Diseases & Bone Marrow Transplantation (NIBD), Karachi

Pakistan Institute of Medical Sciences (PIMS), Islamabad

Published in The Express Tribune, Sunday Magazine, November 3^rd, 2013.

They meet every night and follow the same ritual: purchase liquor, clink glasses, compete boisterously to out-drink each other until the alcohol helps them drown into oblivion and then they stumble home at the end of the night. More than often, men who can’t afford to get their hands on Johnny Walker or Absolut Vodka consume cheap, low quality, locally produced alcohol on a regular basis, putting their life and health at a serious risk.

Commonly known as tharra or kacha sharab, this acidic, white moonshine tastes pleasant to the tongue, making it a popular choice. Most local liquor manufacturers claim that the methodology to produce this concoction was smuggled from India during the 1970s, when alcohol consumption and sale was banned in Pakistan. Initially it was just bottled whiskey that was snuck in by smugglers, but the cross-border migration eventually bought in those who knew how to make it as well. They were mostly immigrants from Kachh Bhuj and the Rajasthan area that brought the formula for making kacha sharab with them, which eventually spread all across the country.

The local version is a concoction of various low-priced ingredients such as gurrh (brown sugar), orange peel, acacia bark, paneer dodi (a medicinal herb botanically known as Withania Cougulans) and noshader (a type of inorganic salt). These ingredients are fermented in unhygienic conditions and sold in the market at a throwaway price of Rs300 a bottle, compared to the branded alcohol being sold through bootleggers and officially licensed shops, which costs nearly ten times more.

Not only is the local moonshine more affordable but its demand particularly shoots up during times of a shortage. Lapses in supply often open up space for counterfeit products to flood the market, with bootleggers tampering genuine alcohol with the local version to stretch inventory. But the cheap price tag conceals huge health hazards, as it is known to cause blindness and even lead to death.

The effects of consuming inferior quality liquor can take up to five days to become noticeable. If the heart or liver is damaged, the body releases SGPT (serum glutamic pyruvic transaminase) into the blood. This may cause irreversible damage to the optic nerve, making it one of the most common after-effects of drinking adulterated alcohol. In December, 2011, two journalists in Karachi were blinded while three others lost their lives, after consuming dry gin that was spiked with moonshine, The Express Tribune reported. Instances like these are fairly common across the country but according to officials at government hospitals, monitoring the number of people who fall prey to the moonshine is difficult as families brush it under the carpet to avoid police investigation.

Decomposed ingredients are ready for fermentation

While most doctors lament the harmful effects of consuming this liquor and have deemed it unsuitable for human consumption, the manufacturers disagree. A local producer who has been involved in the business for the past 28 years claims that he is an expert at determining the quality of his product. He says that the test is simple. “You just take a matchstick and dip it into my sharab [liquor]. If the matchstick catches fire, it means the quality of this sharab is excellent and acceptable for buyers.” He further claims that the alcohol becomes even stronger, almost as good as wine, if bottled for a month.

Despite being banned, the production and sale of kacha sharab flourishes throughout the country, being far more prevalent in the countryside. While the usage is far more common among men, a small proportion of women are also known to be regular consumers.

According to the United Nations Office on Drug and Crime, drug and alcohol usage is becoming increasingly common in Pakistan. A report on drug usage launched during the Commission on Narcotic Drugs this year revealed that 5.8 percent of the population in Pakistan used drugs in the past 12 months.

Being addicted to substances is dangerous, but resorting to cheap substandard alternatives to satisfy those urges can be lethal. Hence, it is no surprise that in a country where almost a quarter of the population lives below the poverty line and peace of mind is scarce, what starts out as a cheap distraction for some, often culminates in death instead.

Recipe

To prepare one litre liquor

Old Gurrh                        1,000 grammes

Accacia bark                    500 grammes

Paneer dodi                     250 grammes

Noshader                         100 grammes

Orange                            250 grammes

Grapes, apple, sapodilla (chikoo), banana and fennel are occasionally used to give the liquor a distinct flavour.

Method to the madness

Old gurrh, acacia bark, paneer dodi, noshader and orange rind are placed in a clay jar (matka) and covered. The clay pot is placed in a pit in a way that half of it remains buried into the soil while the other half remains above the surface. The process exposes the jar’s contents to heat from the soil, allowing it to decompose. The decomposition takes about five to seven days, during which the manufacturer keeps checking regularly. Once the decomposition is complete, the mix is carefully removed from the clay pot and transferred into a metal container. The metal container is sealed and placed over fire, snuggled between two pots. The pot below serves as a bain marie while the pot of cold water placed above helps condense the vapour. The alcohol is then collected drop by drop using a pipe, and transferred into bottles.

Published in The Express Tribune, Sunday Magazine, November 3^rd, 2013.a

The night was dark and the patrolling sentries on the check post vigilant as ever. The smugglers pushed slowly against the razor-sharp barbs that inflicted great pain, but they kept silent to avoid detection. In their gunny bags, they carried the booty that the guards were supposed to keep from going undetected — a white substance. Cocaine had not been chemically isolated back then but nevertheless, the substance being smuggled was a valuable commodity.

Salt (also known as sodium chloride) — the grainy white substance we lavishly sprinkle over our sunny-side ups every morning has been used as a currency, taxed, created towns, led to wars and even carved trade routes on world maps long before the Silk Route was woven. And the smuggling scene is not drawn out from a jungle in Colombia but what could very well have transpired here in the Indo-Pak subcontinent during the latter half of the nineteenth century.

From ancient times well into the industrial age, this crystalline condiment was much sought after and not easily available. It was only as recently as the twentieth century that modern geology and extraction techniques tapped into the virtually inexhaustible salt sources and made it widely available.

Salt reserves in Pakistan.

A highly valued commodity, salt was even used as currency in some parts of the world. It was standard barter tender in parts of Ethiopia until the 1970s, something the Ethiopian Airlines also marketed as a tourist attraction. Currency or not, its past influence on financial matters survives today in many modern terms. According to some, the terms salary is derived from the word salarium, the allowance Roman soldiers were paid to purchase salt. Another version states that the word is derived from the fact that Roman soldiers protected the salt roads leading to Rome. A theory even states that the word ‘soldier’ itself is derived from salt, meaning ‘the ones who were paid in salt’. The Hebrew Bible refers to acceptance of salt from a person as being in their service. Thus it is no surprise that the influence of salt on financial matters gave rise to phrases such as ‘being worth one’s salt’ in the West and also to our own namak khaya hai (accepted payment for a service) and namak halali (being loyal to one’s master for the payment received) in the subcontinent. The necessity of the substance to sustain life was not lost on imperial rulers and it was taxed from China to Europe during ancient and medieval times. A salt tax existed in India from the time of Chandragupta Murya to the Mughal era, though the rate was low and collection was sporadic and inefficient. Rulers often used it to provided relief to their subjects in times of famine and distress. Later, the British East India Company resurrected the salt tax by increasing land rent and imposing transit charges in 1759. The rate of tax was higher in the Bengal region where they had control over the salt-manufacturing operations.

Roy Moxham, a British historian, writes in his book “The Great Hedge of India” that, “The Salt Tax was born out of British greed: first, out of the individual greed of the servants of the East India Company; later, out of the greed of the Company itself, and its shareholders; finally, out of the greed of the British government, its parliament, and its electors.”

In order to ensure collection of tax on all salt trade, a system of customs houses was established across the subcontinent. This line of customs posts ensured that any salt travelling from the production areas in the south and present-day Pakistan, into the Bengal region would be taxed. In order to curb smuggling through the customs line, a great hedge of thorny bushes was raised. The hedge was so thick and tall that passage through it was not possible without the risk of injury and without inviting attention of the patrolling customs personnel. At its prime, the customs barrier was an astounding 2,300 miles (approx.) in length. It is thus wholly understandable that in 1857, during the War of Independence, segments of this hedge were set on fire.

Gandhi picking salt on the beach at the end of the Salt March, April 5, 1930. PHOTO: ISABEL HOFMEYR

However, as the British Empire engulfed smaller states, a virtual monopoly over salt production was established. This meant that it could be taxed at the point of manufacture and maintaining a costly customs line (or parmat lane, as the locals called it) was not necessary. The line was abandoned on April 1, 1879. However, a new system of salt chowkies was established around the manufacturing areas to ensure an outflow of taxed salt only. Even though a few maps show two such chowkies, located east of Jatihat, which ensured collections on salt coming from Gujrat, none of the locals or travelers know anything about it.

The French might love their pretzels but salt was only starting to taste sweeter to British taste buds. The India Salt Act of 1882 established government monopoly over salt and prohibited anyone from illegally manufacturing or hoarding it. In March 1930, the salt tax was challenged by Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi who led a 24-day march to the coastal village of Dandi in Ahmedabad and “illegally” picked up salt from the ground. The movement lasted for a year and triggered other similar uprisings by the masses, bringing the issue into international spotlight, but it failed to result in any major concessions from the British.

Gandhi during the Salt March, March 1930. PHOTOS: ISABEL HOFMEYR

And the British had good reason for wanting to maintain their hegemony over the salt reserves — food security being one of the primary factors. Before the advent of modern preservation techniques and refrigeration, the ability to store food for longer periods often meant the difference between life and death. Salt has been in use for the preservation of food for millennia. Meat and fish are cured with salt and then dried in the sun. Salting extracts excess moisture, thus preventing bacterial growth. In Pakistan as well, the method is widely used by households that cannot afford refrigerators to preserve meat collected on occasions such as Eidul Azha for later use. For the more affluent, meat preservation through the salting and drying technique is often tried as a delicacy. Vegetables fermented in brine (a saturated solution of salt) have been consumed across the globe for ages, commonly referred to as achaar or pickles in the Indo-Pak region.

Inside the Khewra salt mine, Pakistan. PHOTO: FAHEEM AHMAD

Interestingly, salting is also carried out during mummification and Mark Kurlansky writes in his fascinating book “Salt — A world History” that, “In the nineteenth century, when mummies from Saqqara and Thebes were taken from tombs and brought to Cairo, they were taxed as salted fish before being permitted entry to the city.” Perhaps to the customs officials on guard, it was easier to believe in human-shaped salted fish rather than ancient preserved human bodies, which of course was not a good enough basis for tax exemption.

Salt pans in Mumbai are a major cash cow for developers. PHOTO: AFP

A decent level of salt in the system is as important for a living being as it is to preserve a dead one. Found in blood, sweat, tears, urine and other body fluids, it provides the body with vital electrolytes that help transmit impulses. The body has to keep its concentration of salt at a desired level, as a shortage can result in inadequate water retention, leading to a dangerous drop in blood pressure. On the contrary, excess salt in the system can cause high blood pressure, which can lead to heart and kidney diseases, stroke and heart failure in extreme cases.

According to the US Food and Drugs Administration (FDA), nearly all Americans consume more salt than they need. Natural salts in food account for about 10 percent of total intake in an average American diet while salt added at the table or while cooking increases it by another five to ten percent. About 75 percent of total salt intake comes from salt added to processed foods by manufacturers and salt added to food at restaurants and other food service establishments. The prognosis also stands true for most urban Pakistanis as well, for whom processed food items and restaurant food have become an inescapable lifestyle.

Local villagers spread salt over the body of a female elephant for it to decompose during the burial near Panbari railway station. REUTERS/UTPAL BARUAH

According to the FDA, the general population should not consume more than 2,300 milligrams of sodium (about a teaspoon of table salt) a day. However, it should be remembered that some people are more sensitive to the effects of salt than others and medical history, genetics and age should be kept in consideration when determining one’s optimum salt intake.

Perhaps it was because of its indispensability that salt was associated with health, prosperity and by extension, peace in ancient times. The Roman word for these saline crystals (sal) is derived from Salus, the goddess of health. Hence, the greeting ‘salut’ or ‘salute’ in European cultures has literal and conceptual connections to salt and the Hebrew ‘shalom’ and Arabic ‘salaam’, both refer to peace, prosperity and health.

To preserve, sea food is salted and dried in the sun . PHOTO: AYESHA MIR

World over salt is commercially produced from three natural sources: underground deposits, salt lakes and seawater. All three modes of salt production are found in Pakistan. It has reportedly been mined for over two millennia from the Salt Range. According to popular legend, it was the horses from Alexander’s army that discovered the salt there. If there is any truth to that myth, Khewra, often quoted as the second largest mine of the world, appeared on European maps when they licked the Salt Range rocks to fulfill their craving. According to the Pakistan Mineral Development Corporation, production during 2011-12 was a whopping 441,553 tonnes. A beautiful tourist resort is operated inside a portion of the mine where visitors can observe natural formations and manmade attractions. A clinic for asthma relief that boasts having treated patients from Britain to Saudi Arabia was also set up inside the mine in 2007. The antibacterial salt particles in the mine are known to loosen up mucus and clear the lung passages, helping asthma patients breathe better.

Small quantities of high-grade salt are also scraped off from small salt lakes around Khipro in the Thar Desert region in Sindh. Lastly, saltpans around the Indus delta and the backwaters of Karachi’s beaches have fulfilled much of the local requirement for a long time. But the escalating presence of pollutants and metals from industrial discharges in the seawater used for extraction might affect the palatability of sea salt internationally in the near future and also lead to a sharp rise in its prices.

So, the next time you see the seemingly invaluable white substance lying inconspicuously on the dinner table, take a moment to reflect in its glory. Place a pinch of the saline crystal on the tip of your tongue and relish the taste while recapping its glorious history in your head. I assure you, it will taste a whole lot sweeter.

The author can be reached at vagabonds.odyssey@gmail.com

Published in The Express Tribune, Sunday Magazine, November 3^rd, 2013.a

There are very few shots in Gravity that do not have the Earth in its frame; sometimes pale blue or dark, its ubiquitous presence both haunting and inviting at the same time. And it’s only in space, stripped of basic necessities like oxygen, sound and ground to walk on, that we are compelled to reassess our relationship with Mother Earth.

These reflections are intermittent however, as director Alfonso Cuarón, of Y Tu Mama Tambien (And Your Mother Too) fame, plugs fleeting scenes of calm between desperate efforts at survival and scenes of catastrophe. But at its heart, Gravity is a survival movie. Mission specialist Ryan Stone (Sandra Bullock) and mission commander Matt Kowalski (George Clooney) are astronauts doing repair work when a storm of debris destroys their shuttle. What follows is quite predictable. The movie shows them meandering from one space station to another — placed rather conveniently close to each other — to ultimately find a capsule to make it back to Earth.

Although the movie’s plot is predictable, the visuals have enough impact to leave you spellbound. When the storm strikes, the audience watches on rather uncomfortably and helplessly as Bullock veers towards the darkness, spinning relentlessly, as the Earth, reflected on her helmet visor, appears to move with her. And to emulate this lack of any physical or metaphysical certainty, the camera work, deftly executed by Emmanuel Lubezki, is also free from similar physical grounding. The camera is part of the three dimensional framework that allows you to experience the Earth above, below or behind you as you too spin around like Stone and Kowalski, hanging on to handlebars, wires and anything you can hold on to for dear life. To experience this utter loss of control, 3-D is fundamental to Cuaron’s film, and it is brilliantly orchestrated.

The film is technologically well-equipped. The visuals are spectacular; easily the best use of 3-D since James Cameron’s Avatar. The debris storms in particular, are breathtaking. From the buzz of flies to the country music playing on Kowalski’s space suit, the sounds, and their lack thereof, complete the experience.

The movie will however not be remembered for its script. Clooney’s wisecracks and Bullock’s personal baggage do nothing to elevate the film. And with two likable, familiar characters, Cuaron should have known that the audience would empathise with the characters even in the absence of their rather clichéd back stories. Despite everything, the two put in worthwhile performances, especially Bullock with her portrayal of a distant and indifferent woman after facing a personal life tragedy.

In the end, Clooney’s yammering and Bullock’s heavy breathing are welcome sounds in an otherwise dark, weightless and infinite silence that make our meaningless and grounded lives a tad bit more bearable.

Published in The Express Tribune, Sunday Magazine, November 10^th, 2013.

Mr. Penumbra’s 24 hour Bookstore flourishes in the nebulous terrain between super-powered digital information and the text warriors of yore. It rocks in terms of crazy imaginative leaps and is so optimistic about the longevity of books in print that it makes bibliophiles like me positively clap with glee. It does have its share of shortcomings though, but more on that later.

Clay Jannon is an unemployed art school graduate. One day, Clay’s life changes completely when he walks into a shabby little bookshop with a vacancy. He is greeted by the mysterious and seriously old Mr Penumbra who asks, “What do you seek in these shelves?” Clay soon begins work at Mr Penumbra’s 24-hour bookstore and realises that what is ostensibly a decrepit bookshop, with very few readable books and even fewer customers, is actually a vault for thousands of books written in code, held for customers who borrow them at alarming regularity and even more alarming haste. His job is to write minute descriptions of each customer — down to the last triangle-shaped button and fifth sneeze.

The books in code, as Clay discovers, lead towards the discovery of the holy grail of a secret society called the Fellowship of the Unbroken Spine, the headquarters of which lie beneath Manhattan’s busiest district, a five hundred-year-old underground lair with ancient tomes and robed, hooded whispering figures. In a modern, heroic quest, investigator Clay together with his Googler-wizard girlfriend, Kat, and his best friend, warrior/financer Nee, unravel the centuries-old mystery of the relationship between books and immortality.

Despite all the trappings to go over the top, the book is quite grounded. One of the reasons, ironically, is the author’s imagination. Undeniably, we have here a writer who is able to channel an old-world love for books in all their glory while refusing to entertain the scorn of proud Kindle wielders or Google users. He co-opts the enemy, as it were, and makes Google the torchbearer of a movement to digitise all knowledge — bringing the written and spoken word into the realm of digital information and codes, and making it available to all. Google is a world conqueror and its headquarters is a sprawling campus with a controlled environment resembling the robot-like air from the Stepford Wives, but with happy, bouncy, under-30 army of employees who represent the best of the human species world over. It is Darwinian but with Katy Perry and her California girls in charge of the selections.

Then there is Google Forever, the division pondering questions of extended life and immortality, because as Kat agonises, there is so much to do and such a limited window of opportunity for humans. Google Forever is hence a reality — Google launches Calico, a company dealing with medicine and biotechnology with the goal of extending the human lifespan. Sloan is spot on with imaginative invention that is crazy enough to be real.

In a world where bibliophiles would rather preserve books for a scarce few and where digitisation of books is done carelessly to mass produce, Sloan pays due respect to the great tradition of reading books. This, complete with the accompanying milieu — bookstores, eccentric but lovable booksellers, the charm of an old book with thumbed, yellowed pages, the thrill of a brand new book with crackling covers and the smell of brand new secrets — is an absolute joy to experience. However, there is also a sincere appeal to allow universal access to the written word. Sloan shows that machines can be good and the spider-handed Google book scanner loves books and takes great care to preserve the delicate pages and spine. Appropriate technology can help traditional methods of information and knowledge progress in a way that is fitting for the fast pace of the modern reader.

There are however some shortcomings; one is that the book is too clever for its own good. The mysteries presented are gripping. What do the code books in Mr Penumbra’s 24 hour bookstore mean? Clay finds the answer easily via a data visualisation project. Why does Mr Penumbra disappear halfway into the book? A bit of old fashioned sleuthing in Mr Penumbra’s office, a lot of Google Mapping and boom, Clay reaches Mr Penumbra’s destination even before he does. What is the final answer to the puzzles contained in the Fellowship of the Unbroken Spine? Google runs an extensive operation to find out but fails and then Clay, within days, trots out the answer. It’s all too easy and not good enough given that the writer is playing with an extended metaphor of the quest. It’s like Odysseus found Google Maps, a fancy yacht with a tech-savvy crew, and went from Troy to Ithaca in two days and gave a thumbs-up to the audience watching him via satellites.

In the same vein, there are some parts which could have been trimmed; the love story between Clay and Kat is underdeveloped, in fact his bromance with Neel is much more engaging. There is unnecessary text devoted to expounding the details of Google the Gargantuan Conqueror; much of that could have been part of a larger picture as opposed to the picture.

Having knocked it down a few notches, I still hold the book a winner. It is great writing, fast paced for the most part, with seriously exciting moments. And the best part, it puts a big smile on your face and makes a part of you want to go back to that quest and find the magical world that you closed off in your mind long ago.

Book bonanza 

Where’d You Go Bernadette?

Bernadette Fox is notorious: to her Microsoft-guru husband, she’s a fearlessly opinionated partner; to fellow private-school mothers in Seattle, she’s a disgrace; to design mavens, she’s a revolutionary architect; and to 15-year-old Bee, she is a best friend and, simply, mom.

Then Bernadette disappears. It began when Bee aced her report card and claimed her promised reward for a family trip to Antarctica. To find her mother, Bee creates a compulsively readable and touching novel about misplaced genius and a mother and daughter’s role in an absurd world.

The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society

It is 1946 and the author, Juliet Ashton, can’t think of what to write next. Out of the blue, she receives a letter from Dawsey Adams of Guernsey who has acquired a book that once belonged to her. And spurred on by their mutual love of reading, they begin a correspondence. When Dawsey reveals that he is a member of the Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society, her curiosity is piqued and it’s not long before she begins to hear from other members. As letters fly back and forth with stories of life in Guernsey under the German Occupation, Juliet soon realises that the society is every bit as extraordinary as its name.

Alif the Unseen

He calls himself Alif — few people know his real name — a young man born in a Middle Eastern city that straddles the ancient and modern worlds. When Alif meets the aristocratic Intisar, he believes he has found love. But their relationship has no future and as a remembrance, Intisar sends the heartbroken Alif a mysterious book. Entitled The Thousand and One Days, Alif discovers that this parting gift is a door to another world — a world from a very different time, when old magic was in the ascendant and the djinn walked among us.

Published in The Express Tribune, Sunday Magazine, November 10^th, 2013.

When you think of mega action stars like Arnold Schwarzenegger and Sylvester Stallone starring together in an action flick, you can’t help but envisage the intense action sequences that would unfold in Escape Plan. But disappointingly enough, not only is the movie lacking a proper script, it also fails to impress with its weak action sequences.

Ray Breslin (Sylvester Stallone) is a professional jailbird, who gets paid millions for uncovering weaknesses in security systems. After being recruited by a rather mysterious CIA client, Stallone finds himself locked away in ‘The Tomb’, a government-funded shadow prison, with no communication with the outside world. There he meets the tyrannical warden, Hobbes (Jim Caviezel), and realises he’s bitten off more than he can chew.

The movie only comes alive once the two stars meet. Emil Rottmayer (Arnold Schwarzenegger) is a wily criminal, who befriends Stallone when he seems to be in danger of being overwhelmed in a fight. What follows is a story of tactics that the pair employ in order to escape this notorious prison. Compared to previous ingenious plans of Ocean’s Eleven and Prison Break, theirs can be best described as primitive and unimaginative.

What is further putting off is the performance by the supporting cast. 50 Cent unconventionally plays a computer nerd while the prison doctor is played by Sam Neill from Jurassic Park. And then, what is a maximum security US prison without a gang of Muslim terrorists. Stepping up to this challenge is Faran Tahir, cast as a Muslim terrorist, who assists the pair in their plan to break free.

However, the same cannot be said for the action heroes. While Stallone is stoic and acts like he’s giving a noteworthy performance, it’s Schwarzenegger who steals the show. You can see him having fun playing the eccentric Rottmayer and at one point ranting and raving in Austrian German while being interrogated. You can see that he’s not taking himself too seriously, which results in a rather fun performance.

There is no doubt that the two are superstars, and the concluding action sequence is an ode to how they reached the pinnacle of their careers, especially when Schwarzenegger totes a machine gun and literally demolishes the villains. You can’t help but feel like you have travelled back to the ’90s with the quality of action sequences and the ‘banter’ the two share on screen. You also question the choice of director Mikael Håfström, better known for his horror movies, who perhaps lacks experience in the action genre and fails to deliver. His decision to get close-ups just leads to an inadvertent focus on the aging stars’ wrinkles.

Clocking in at almost two hours, some necessary editing would have enhanced the viewing experience. For all Schwarzenegger/Stallone fans, it is highly recommended that you watch the movie. But for those who can’t keep their eyes from rolling at the cheesy one-liners, it’s best to steer clear.

Published in The Express Tribune, Sunday Magazine, November 10^th, 2013.

You know things are askew with the Parkers when hours after their mother’s death, patriarch Frank Parker (Bill Sage) tells younger daughter Rose (Ambyr Childers) that tradition will be followed with elder daughter Ivy (Julie Garner) stepping into her mother’s shoes. Jim Mickle’s American remake of the original Mexican film We Are What We Are is one of the most lyrical and beautiful horror films of recent times.

After Emma Parker’s (Kassie DePaiva) death, local doctor, Doc Barrow (Michael Parks), begins finding what look like human bones in the local stream. He makes the connection that other than his own daughter, close to 30 people had disappeared in the last twenty years in the area. His investigation keeps bringing him closer to the Parker clan.

Frank, obsessed with tradition and religion, demands that his reluctant daughters obey his rules. We don’t know what those are but we are pretty sure they are horrific. Rose makes her defiance clear in a muted fashion. Iris, however, placates her younger sister, telling her that she will follow her father’s wishes for the time being.

The real pleasure of We Are What We Are is that even though there is no outright, in-your-face horror for most of the film, Mickle keeps ratcheting the tension. In this, he is aided by his excellent crew of actors. Sage, Childers and Garner are pitch perfect and carry the burden and unease of their family dynamic throughout the film.

Mickle’s film sets a gloomy tone from the very first scene as we see Emma Parker totter to her death in a ditch when a flood hits the town. And this gloom is maintained by his excellent use of sound and lighting. By not giving the audience any gore for most of the film and instead subverting our expectations, We Are What We Are cleverly magnifies the horror that lies buried in the Parkers’ shed. You wait for the gory outbursts and each time you think you are close, Mickle pulls back and takes yet another detour. For the most part this is an effective strategy.

But when the money shot is delivered, and it is served up in the last ten minutes, it is magnificent. Tipping his hat to horror and gore fests of the past with a nod to our present day preoccupation of inversing the role of the beleaguered blonde, Mickle delivers a knockout ending that is not for the squeamish. Sitting down for a family dinner might never feel safe again.

Every family has something to hide

The Texas Chainsaw Massacre

Considered one of the greatest and most controversial horror films, this 1974 film follows a bunch of friends who fall prey to a family of cannibals while on their way to visit an old farmhouse. At the time of release, the film was banned in several countries and played in a limited number of theatres due to its violent content but went on to become a raging success later.

Dogtooth

A 2009 Greek film, directed by Yorgos Lanthimos, is about a couple who keep their children confined to their isolated property and ignorant of the outside world. A tale of terror, fear and family secrets, the film was also nominated for the Best Foreign Language Film at the 83^rd Academy Awards.

Parents

A 1989 American black comedy horror film set in the 1950s, tells the story of Michael Laemle, a young boy who suspects his suburban parents of chopping up the wrong kind of meat. Despite failing at the box office, the film has a strong following over home video.

Published in The Express Tribune, Sunday Magazine, November 10^th, 2013.

Bolivia is a country like no other. For the adventurous travellers, its arid deserts, tropical rainforests, snow-capped peaks, silver mines and colourful inland lakes prove there is so much more to this landlocked country than ever imagined — or at least more than I had expected.

Our Bolivian journey begins in La Paz after landing in El Alto (part of greater La Paz) at the El Alto International Airport. If you’re brave enough to arrive in the dead of night, you can avoid the morbid-looking scarecrows hung on lampposts — a sign to ward off thieves and not crows. In earlier times, the scarecrows were apparently bodies of thieves who had been executed if caught and hung high to instil fear in criminals.

El Alto gives street justice a new definition altogether but that is not the only defining  point of the city. La Paz is a culturally rich, sprawling and chaotic city with just around three million inhabitants. It represents modern Bolivia with its restaurants, bars, universities and museums and the hard-to-miss Witches’ Market which, quite like the name suggests, offers an interesting selection of good luck charms and voodoo-like items. Dead baby llama foetuses are also sold here and according to a myth, if you bury one under a building before construction, the fetus will act as its protector.

Although grateful for the revenue that tourism brings in, the inhabitants don’t seem too pleased by the horde of backpackers who flock to La Paz each year. The heavy tourist influx is not just limited to La Paz but can be seen all across Bolivia.

From La Paz, one of the easiest trips to make is to Copacabana, a small town beside the infamous Lake Titicaca, believed to be the birthplace of the Incas, one of the oldest knows civilisations in the Americas. Its intense azul sky and reflections during sunset almost make you believe the same. The remainder of the town is graced with only about six short streets, lined with bars, shops and restaurants. There isn’t much to do here other than wander around.

With a quick look at South America’s largest lake and also one the world’s highest large lakes, you can now head to the town of Corioco. Its tropical climate and thriving jungle will allow you to put your adventure gear to good use. Here you can go hiking through the tropical mountains, bathe under the waterfalls or go river rafting. And if you desire a more upscale experience, you can lounge around your hotel pool all day. A mere three hours away from La Paz, Corioco is the ideal getaway.

Cochabamba on the other hand is a vibrant and thriving Bolivian city. It hosted the world’s largest statue of Jesus Christ until 2010, when a larger one was completed in Poland. As another one of Bolivia’s larger cities, Cochabamba is quite different from La Paz — and actually quite like Karachi and Lahore.

The city holds a wealth of archaeological treasures. Rising above the surrounding tile roofs is the dome of the convent of Santa Teresa, perhaps one of the world’s most underrated wonders. Designed and constructed by architect Pedro Nogales and engineer Martinez Caceres in 1760, the convent exudes a sense of peace that touches those who walk down its hallway. And as the guidebook rightly states: “It looks like you have walked into a Gabriel Garcia Marquez novel.” The convent houses a small number of nuns who have devoted themselves to the place and are not allowed to speak or interact with anyone from the outside world. Until 2005, they resided in the convent’s original structure, in dire conditions.

From sacred to simply serene, Bolivia is dotted with abundant tourist destinations. Only a few Bolivianos can take you a very long way, also making it an extremely budget-friendly holiday. For instance, for around 90 Bolivianos (Rs1,400) you can travel for 16 hours in a bus, in a comfortable cama seat that can fold down quite literally into a bed.

Unfortunately for those who suffer from vertigo, it is one of the most economical ways to get to Salar de Uyuni, the world’s largest salt flat. It offers a truly magnificent sight, especially if you can manage to get there well before 100 other jeeps make it their parking lot. With a little bit of rain, the dried, crusty salt plains form the world’s largest natural mirror and it is almost sinful to not try and capture this beauty on camera.

South-West Bolivia has a lot more to offer other than the savage beauty of the salt flat. If you have a booked a tour, you will embark on a spectacular three-to-seven day journey that will take you through its arid deserts, hot springs, the red lake that is home to flamingos, the green lake with enough arsenic to kill anyone who attempts to take a swim in it and stunning mountains and rock formations along the way.

Mountains are plentiful in this country, especially in its silver mining city of Potosi. It used to be the largest city in the world at one point in time — larger than London and Brussels. This was due to the silver-rich mountains that provided thousands of miners with jobs. But after the price of silver dramatically fell in the international market, times in Potosi got tough.

The first thing that strikes you about this city is the grit — in the streets, in the cafés and in the city’s architecture. As an additional source of revenue, miners now offer mine tours. This comprises a four-hour crawl through jagged tunnels illuminated by torches, with a tour guide repeatedly shouting, “don’t look up, sulphuric acid is dripping from the ceiling.” Later you are required to climb down to an unused tunnel to light up a few sticks of dynamite, right after wishing for good luck before the statue of El Tio (The Uncle), Lord of the Underworld who is believed to be the protector of the mines, by showering him with coca leaves and alcohol.

Having experienced fear in the mines of Potosi, you can head for some calm and fresh air to the city of Sucre. At only a few hours away, it is surrounded by breath-taking mountain views. Sucre has a very European feel to it and much unlike the fast-paced Bolivia, it moves to a rhythm of its own. Buses don’t seem to run on time and restaurants often serve lighter food. Also, unlike the long skirts that most cholitas (indigenous Bolivian women) adorn in La Paz, women here wear shorter skirts that cut off at the thighs, due to Sucre’s warmer climate.

In Bolivia, almost every city has defined its own skirt length and style, quite like its different tourist attractions. The Bolivia that I fell in love with was one that reminded me so much of Pakistan with regards to its political, social and economic diversity — except for the fashionable skirts. But what makes it a country worth exploring, despite the similarities, is how you can find yourself on the other side of the globe and feel that we’re all somehow still connected.

1:     The death road gives cyclists a mere few metres wide road to bike downhill.

2:    
The railroad tracks running outside the town of Uyuni.

3:     A jazz band performs in one of La Paz’s upscale cinemas.

4:     Dancers on the streets of Cochabamba during a carnival.

5:     The courtyard of the terrace of the convent in Cochabamba.

6:     A lady collecting salt from the salt flat in Salar de Uyuni to be transported to the rest of Bolivia.

7:     Cyanide treatment at a silver refinery plant in Potosi.

8:     The view of the mountains from a mirador (lookout point) in Sucre.

9:     A 20-minute paragliding ride over the outskirts of La Paz.

10:   At the centre of Cochabamba lies a giant lake, that is overlooked by the statue of Jesus.

11:  El Tio — protector of the mines in Potosi.

Ride down the world’s most dangerous road

Also known as the ‘Death Road’, the North Yungas Road was given its title after it claimed to have taken the most number of lives due to its narrow, rocky and slippery structure. Since the road isn’t quite safe for cars and trucks, many tour companies offer you the opportunity to ride a bike down the 60km road.

Recommended tour company: Gravity Assisted Mountain Biking

Price range: BOB500 to BOB750 (Around Rs7,700 to Rs11,500)

Swim with piranhas and dolphins

Taking a flight to the Amazon River is not for the faint-hearted. You fly in a small aircraft to Rurrenabaque, a small town in North Bolivia, before eagerly jumping on a riverboat that takes you down the Amazon. If your guide asks you to jump into the water, don’t worry as the crocodiles and piranha are kept at bay by the pink dolphins.

Recommended tour company: Bala Tours

Price range: Around USD65 or BOB50 for three days (Around Rs6,900) 

Adventure awaits you in La Paz

Apart from the thriving life inside the city, areas surrounding La Paz have many escapes. Valle de la Luna (Valley of the Moon) and Muela del Diablo (The Devil’s Molar) are popular places that are easily accessible from La Paz and many tour companies offer horse riding, paragliding and dirt biking there.

Recommended tour company: Kanoo Tours

Approximate prices: BOB300 to BOB400 per activity (Around Rs4,600 to Rs6,100)

Published in The Express Tribune, Sunday Magazine, November 10^th, 2013.

For a country that has made countless sacrifices in the name of democracy, it is surprising that there are hardly any accolades for those who have played an instrumental role in holding up those values.

A couple of months ago, newspapers were abuzz with news of a medal of democracy being conferred upon Prime Minister Nawaz Sharif by the Turkish president during his visit to Turkey. The title in question is called Cumhuriyet Nisani in Turkish or Jamhuriyat Nishani (Medal of Democracy) as our media puts it. However, there is one problem — the Jamhuriyat does not refer to any democracy that the recipient may or may not have strived for, but the fact that Turkey itself is a Republic or a Jamhuriyat. This is the reason why the official website of the Turkish president chooses to translate the award as Order of the Republic Medal of Turkey.

The medal has maintained the tradition of cordiality between the two countries. The Devlet Nishan was for example, bestowed on former president Asif Ali Zardari during his 2011 visit to Ankara. Earlier, former President Pervez Musharraf who spent his childhood in Turkey, also called the country his second home.

On the other hand, the local version of the award, the Tamgha-e-Jamhooriyat or Medal of Democracy, is supposed to be conferred upon those who perform an extraordinary service to democracy. The medal has only been bestowed once in the country’s history, when former prime minister Benazir Bhutto awarded it to the then chief of army staff, General Mirza Aslam Beg, in 1988. After General Zia ul Haq’s death in the Bahawalpur plane crash, Beg was appointed the COAS and given the circumstances at the time, martial law might have been an easy and tempting prospect. Instead, the general showed a commitment towards democracy and held the elections conducted duly, which ushered in Benazir Bhutto’s first government.

However, between 1990 and 1994, the Mehrangate scandal surfaced whereby it was alleged that the office of the COAS had used state funds to strengthen the PPP’s opponents. In October 2012, the Supreme Court of Pakistan, deciding upon a petition filed by Retired Air Marshall (ret’d) Asghar Khan, ruled that General Beg, the recipient of the Medal of Democracy was indeed guilty of extending funds to political parties of choice. There were talks of the general being stripped of his military and civilian medals, but nothing ever came through.

However, like most other things, the Pakistani nation moved on. Today, a replica of the Medal of Democracy hangs in the gallery of the State Bank of Pakistan Museum — a small silent reminder of another strange chapter in Pakistan’s history that has more twists and turns than a John Grisham thriller.

Published in The Express Tribune, Sunday Magazine, November 10^th, 2013.

There was a time in 25-year-old Naveed Iqbal’s life when he spent twelve hours a day, lying on his side, staring at walls. But, Iqbal is now a self-reliant man, who turned his situation around, using nothing but a PC and his resolute will power. From almost no motor movement that left him unemployed; he not only managed to self-educate but now also earns a living by publishing themes and templates for blogging websites which are downloaded by thousands online.

On July 17, 2008, Iqbal’s life fell apart as his friend, and driver of the car, lost control of their vehicle on a busy highway in Jeddah. The car reportedly flipped nearly six times before landing. While the driver suffered minor injuries, Iqbal was hospitalised in a critical condition. After a month on the ventilator, Iqbal returned to consciousness only to learn he was diagnosed with Quadriplegia, a form of paralysis from the neck-down.

PHOTO: NAVEED IQBAL

“I couldn’t speak for the first few months after the accident. When I first heard in the ICU that I was paralyzed, I kept crying. Even for months after, I was in denial,” says Iqbal. “The mere mention of the word paralysis would leave me depressed.”

Dealing with the changes in his body and motor function was not easy, as Iqbal lost sensation in his feet, legs, and torso up till his shoulders. His fingers lost all movement, except for the little finger on his left hand and thumb on his right hand, which can be maneuvered slightly.

Naveed’s mother, Mrs Iqbal recalls the first few days at home with her son post discharge, “My daughters and I would carry Naveed on a bed sheet to move him from his bed to the wheelchair. To be honest, I had lost the ability to speak to him. I could not face my son.”

Along the way, painful remarks from close friends pulled Iqbal down further. “People, who could clearly see my state, would ask damaging questions such as ‘can you stand?’ or ‘will you ever be able to work?’”

“Till I didn’t accept I was paralysed, life was very tough. Each word would have an impact on me and I could not believe the insensitivity showed by those who pretended to care,” Iqbal says.

Five years on, the situation for the family changed as Iqbal came to terms with his new reality. He found his strength and a new life on the PC in his room. Now earning through his blog templates and other websites, Iqbal says, “Initially I didn’t think I could use a computer. I would move the mouse a little and I was out of breath.”

Iqbal persisted and tried to work his way around his limitations, self-educating himself on how to code using Google. “I spent time making changes on CSS, learned script and played around with footers and headers on my blogs to keep myself entertained.”

With time Iqbal built up his stamina and started using two fingers to type. Unable to use a laptop as the touch-censor complicates the process, Iqbal has an undying devotion towards his PC. “The PC has helped me so much, I don’t think I have shut it down in over two years.”

Iqbal specialises in constructing theme templates for a blogging website known as Blogger. What started out as a hobby suggested by a friend, became a lifeline. “After a while I felt that I was confident enough to try making a blog template. I spent nearly six months working on my first template. After I had made my own coding, it was simple because I just had to make changes to the existing code,” he recalls.

Even though he is not making a huge sum of money, the gratification of being independent is compensation enough for Iqbal. “In under a year I have published 17 templates, out of which one is premium and allows for video.”

Although his dark days are behind him, Iqbal is now more aware of the way society looks at people with disabilities. “When I visited Pakistan, I went to 20 different mosques but none of them had wheelchair access.” The situation is somewhat similar in Saudi Arabia too, where Iqbal currently lives. “Malls don’t have wheelchair ramps and offices don’t either. Bigger companies do not even respond to my job applications; maybe it’ll affect their reputation if they hire a person like me.”

Reinvigorated by his success, Iqbal advises others to be kind to those who are still struggling. “Try to give such patients new hope. Don’t ask them what the doctors are saying, because you will finish your negative talk and walk away, but your words affect such people. Try to motivate them, instead of pulling them down.”

Published in The Express Tribune, Sunday Magazine, November 10^th, 2013.

Sabiha Sumar has had a good month. As her film Good Morning Karachi (Rafina) had its London premiere at the Raindance Film Festival, Sumar and the team of Saving Face — the Academy Award-winning documentary that she served as producer of — picked up an Emmy award for Best Documentary. In the works since 2011, Good Morning Karachi was filmed over a period of eight weeks, following an intensive three-month workshop with the cast and features Amna Ilyas, Atta Yacub, Beo Raana Zafar, Yasir Aqueel, Khalid Malik and Saba Hamid. “It was like running a film school,” Sumar recalls, as she worked with a motley team of Indian and Dutch crew members as well as local film enthusiasts who had never been on a feature film set.

The film found its inception in a chance meeting between Sumar and the author Shandana Minhas at a mutual friend’s house. “I had read Shandana’s articles in newspapers,” explains Sumar, “and I invited her to write a novella on the life of a young woman coming of age in Karachi.”

The story of a girl, Rafina, who dreams of leaving the gallis of Faisal Colony for the glamour of Pakistan’s fashion and beauty industry, Good Morning Karachi moves between the different worlds that Karachi is home to; there’s the bubble that Rafina’s clients at a beauty salon inhabit, where women complain that you just can’t get a decent bagel in Karachi, the corporate world where ad executives look for models who encapsulate a notion of enlightened innocence and look as though they have seen a lot but are not corrupted by it, to sell their products. Then there is the world of Rafina’s fiancé, who plasters images of Benazir Bhutto in his home and the white noise of the city and Pakistan as a whole as the radio intermittently announces news of bombings or terrorist attacks (the film’s title takes its name from a radio show, Good Morning Karachi). Even as she is initially bound between her home and the salon she works at, Rafina moves between these spheres — the clipped received pronunciation of a male voice on an English audio guide teaches her to say, “I would like to see London by night” or ask for a hot chocolate or directions to the nearest nightclub while she washes clothes in her home or whiles away her time staring at a luminous model advertising lawn cloth on a billboard outside her room’s window; her marriage is fixed in this home and later, the police break down the door to her home to arrest her fiancé on terrorism charges.

PHOTO: ZEESHAN HAIDER

The heart of the film lies in dreams, more specifically, the Pakistani woman’s dream. “Two of the largest film industries in the world deal with dreams,” explains Sumar, adding, “Hollywood is driven by the American dream and Bollywood by its secular dream of Akhand Bharat (united India).” Sumar feels that the way Pakistan developed as a nation, it did not succeed in manufacturing a dream that would be acceptable to all the people of the nation. The lack of vision, she argues is inextricably linked with Pakistan’s struggle to develop arts and culture, and more specifically the film industry, in the country.

Accordingly, Good Morning Karachi peddles in a number of celluloid fantasies: while Rafina dreams of upward social mobility (“I want my own apartment and my own life,” she informs her brother, telling him, “all modern women live with cats”), her fiancée Arif says, “all women dream of getting married and making a home,” as he dreams of political salvation, a revolution brought about by the leader of the political party he supports. Meanwhile, a young girl at Rafina’s salon says, “I always dreamt of getting married in a white dress,” as she is prepped for her wedding day. Once Rafina finds success as a model, she hopes to help women from her socio-economic strata and launches a campaign with the catchphrase ‘Unveil your loving glow’, featuring the image of a woman lifting the veil of her burqa to reveal her face. The image is plastered on a billboard and on leaflets that are distributed across the city. Thereby, Sumar explains, her film has provided for a Pakistani dream by taking Rafina beyond her personal gain and broadening her dream to reach out to ordinary Pakistani women.

PHOTO: ZEESHAN HAIDER

The image, however, of Rafina, clad in a powder blue mini-dress, discussing the campaign on a morning talk show, is problematic, representing the penultimate Pakistani dream as one in which the country’s women are freed from religious conservatism, able to dress and live just as women in the West. The film thereby further reinforces the disconnect between the people Sumar describes as the vernacular educated and the English-educated elite that has opportunities at every corner, as Rafina is unable to straddle her two lives and, by the film’s conclusion, is firmly positioned within the sphere of the elite.

Just as she screened Khamosh Pani across the country through mobile cinema halls, Sumar says she plans to exhibit Good Morning Karachi in towns and villages in Pakistan. It will be interesting to note the reactions of more conservative audiences, particularly as Rafina comes to embody all that is seen as too modern or Western by many in the country. Sumar isn’t worried, however. “Rafina’s dream represents the aspirations of many young women whether they are rural or urban,” she explains, adding that, “I believe TV and media in general have opened up our understanding of international fashion and I don’t think Good Morning Karachi will be viewed in a narrow perspective.”

PHOTO: SABIHA SUMAR

While Rafina’s campaign to unveil your loving glow is a tad flimsy in its goals, it is ultimately our inability to emotionally connect with Rafina’s journey that renders her dream a singular vision. Towards the film’s conclusion for instance, Rafina, now a model for a national brand, says, “I don’t hate my part of the city anymore.” When pressed for details of what she loves about her neighbourhood, she says, teary eyed, “The gola gunda from Five Star.” The sentiment, while it may be true, rings hollow, particularly as the film ends with Rafina’s successful transition from Faisal Colony to a more affluent neighbourhood in the city. At the film’s screening in London, actor and comic Beo Raana Zafar explained that, “One thing Sabiha taught us was that there’s a line and there’s a subtext. You don’t act the lines, you act the subtext.” With this film, unfortunately, much of this subtext fails to translate, most tellingly as a mystified member of the audience asked Zafar, “So, really, how did your character die at the end?”

PHOTO: SABIHA SUMAR

Good Morning Karachi is ultimately a celebration of the spirit of the city of Karachi and the fortitude of its people, a city where, as Rafina believes, anything is possible. “This city is not like any other city in Pakistan,” says Sumar. “It’s sad that Karachi has sunk into violence in the past few years but its potential as a city that drives ambition is certainly palpable.”

Despite its shortcomings, the film is an important contribution to Pakistan’s fledgling independent film industry, which can only learn from its successful and not-so-stellar productions. Sumar notes that the industry is changing, buoyed by the successes of projects such as Saving Face, Zinda Bhaag or Seedlings and the recent inclusion of Pakistani entries for consideration at the Academy Awards. “The audience was always receptive,” she explains, “but there were no opportunities.” But times, it seems, are changing and Sumar has thrown herself back into work, with two feature films and a documentary in the pipeline.

Published in The Express Tribune, Sunday Magazine, November 10^th, 2013.