Hail the actor
Mastana and Babboo Baraal have left a void in theatre, but both left while the house was full, brimming with laughter and clapping
Sarwat Ali

Two major stage actors died in the course of a couple of weeks. Mastana and Babboo Baraal were the mainstay of popular theatre of the country. Both were comedians and had the fame to draw audiences if their name was displayed on the advertisements and hoardings of the plays to be staged in any of the theatre halls in the city.

Both mainly performed in Punjabi or the staple, a mixture of Urdu and Punjabi which had the audiences up in splits. Both had that ability to assess the mood of the audience and then act accordingly. This link with the audience was as much the result of their talent as of their experience. The names of the plays that they acted in became insignificant because in every role they as actors dominated rather than the role. In all plays, hundreds in numbers, their razor sharp wit paled everything else including the script, the director as well as their character.

Many people have strong objection to the theatre that is popular or commercially viable, calling it vulgar and obscene. Every now and then there are reports in the newspapers about the theatres being raided or the plays being banned. Occasionally there may be a report about the actor, director or the sponsor/ manager being arrested. But it is rare for the buck to stop with the play being banned for this theatre which prospered in Lahore and also in Karachi due to its appeal and popularity, then spread to other urban centres of the country especially in Punjab. Due to the authorities coming down with a heavy hand in the cities particularly in Lahore, the managers and players have looked around for venues in towns where the authorities do not breathe down their necks unnecessarily.

This theatre is bawdy and irreverent -- there is no question about its nature but it is supposed to be so and it has never claimed to be otherwise. Actually this theatre is holding the mirror up to the nature of the values of the middle classes, more visible on the social level in their violation than observance.

In a society that is sanctimonious and hypocritical, this theatre is its antidote. If the society is power hungry, hankering after favours which are unearned, the theatre exposes it all. Rather than being vulgar, this theatre only responds to the situation as it exists in our society now. There has hardly been a society that is so demonstrative about its moral uprightness while violating it so shamelessly. The most precious and holiest are not even spared when it comes to doing exactly the opposite of stating. This popular theatre derives its raw material from hypocrisy. It is vulgar because the society is so stiff-lipped about vulgarity -- it is obscene because it pretends that it is not endemic. It attacks the very fibre of society -- the hypocritical hiding behind the sacred relationship, particularly the mother son relationship.

This theatre has the virtue that it did not or does not need any support or aid to go on. It was and has been financially viable and does not hold a begging bowl to balance the deficit in its account books. Theatre, hardly a self-sustaining activity has needed help from either the arts councils or private organisations. Of late, in the past couple of decades, non government organisations have been generously funding theatre activity usually promoting values these non government organisations are sympathetic to. But popular/commercial theatre has earned money and made those associated with theatre rich.

This theatre, for a variety of reasons, does not really have a proper script. It was usually the censorship policies, quite narrow that made the relationship, between the script approved and the performance, weak and tenuous. No matter what the script approved by the censors, the actors do what they want on stage -- with their intuitive ability to know what the audiences want as they weave their acts and words round the burning topic of the day. In these plays, topicality is triggered by the firepower of ruthless satire.

All these actors whether Amanullah, Albela, Ali Ijaz, Umar Sharif, Irfan Khoosat, Anwar Ali, Suhail Ahmed, Shoqi, Iftikhar Thakur and even Khalid Abbas Dar, to name some, have had no formal training in acting or theatre but their keenness and passion made them apprentices in the theatre and they learnt on the job and learnt fast because they had the talent to be super quick on the cue.

There has been a tradition of the naqal which relies on two things-- topicality and ready wit. This tradition goes back a long time, an institution especially in Punjab with the ready wit being the principal asset of these performers. The readier the wit about current issues and personalities the more they are in demand. This theatre which on the surface may have been adaptation of European plays, over a period of time, has been rendered so loose that the connection with the original script has been fifth removed. The actors have a field day sharpening their wit on a created situation. This theatre is not about a well made play but gradually forms its contours as it progresses in each performance. Principally an actor’s theatre, its main asset has been the actor -- the rest pales into insignificance as mere appendages.

It has been a pure delight to witness and hear these actors unleashing the firepower of wit once they exchange repartees among themselves, rather than focus on the play. Such digressions have been hilarious, though distractive. This kind of theatre that does not rely on its script but creates it as it goes along is full of full of wit, repartees, adlibbing and double entendre.

Both Mastana and Babboo Baraal were the main players and helped in establishing theatre closely linked to a tradition in a proscenium setting. Both had razor sharp wit and both had the feel of the language which was the principal vehicle of their humour. There was something extremely idiomatic about their Punjabi and connected them instantly with the audiences, and not those who speak Punjabi through the route of Urdu. Both died and have left a void in the theatre, but both left while the house was full, brimming with laughter and clapping. This laughter has been the lifeline of this improvised theatre because the instant feedback has been grist to the mill of wit. This ability to improvise with ready wit was the chief bearer of their talent. Their jokes, repartees and wit will resound long after their exit from stage.

One is not aware exactly when did baldness become a big fashion in our art but a specific generation of Pakistani male artists seems obsessed with baldness. They have either grown bald, prefer shaven heads or keep their hair closely cropped. Or, as artists, they paint bald figures on their canvases.

Not an easy distinction but, by and large, bald artists are working in the language of contemporary art and have been showing -- well mostly -- in galleries outside Pakistan; whereas artists representing bald figures are using modernistic idiom, and mostly show in galleries in Pakistan.

Abdul Jabbar Gull belongs to the second league of artists. Like other painters, miniaturists and sculptors, he has opted for a timeless, eternal and archetypical figure to represent his ideas. This notion of eternity seems an important aspect for the artist. In his recent exhibition at Drawing Room Gallery (being held from April 14 to May 15, 2011), the works somehow refer to the concept and quest of timelessness. His figures painted in various sizes and combinations bear uniform features; the element of hairlessness adds this quality of being a ‘type’ instead of an actual character. Along with human bodies portrayed in different colours or sculpted as pairs, other more stylised figurines are also included in the exhibition. In the same show, a number of winged bodies -- slender forms with spiky wings -- are displayed.

Forms of these sorts -- all derived from the human body, either painted or in three dimensions -- are accompanied by small objects/visuals that serve as keys to decipher the content of the work. More than that, these provide the opportunity to understand the artist’s frame of mind and his approach towards image and its meaning or reason. These items consists of crescent, cross, Swastika and the Star of David as well as takhti and some sort of script which, in most cases, is unreadable but appears to be from different languages, such as Hindi, English and Arabic/Urdu.

Abdul Jabbar Gull has been making works based upon one or the other of these elements in the past, as part of his effort to investigate the socio-political situation and to represent issues related to people in general (the title of a few paintings in the present show is Ordinary Souls). The solo exhibition seems to be a culminating point of his selected theme; mainly because almost all of his techniques, mediums, styles and images are seen together.

The display not only brings a diversity of visuals and mediums; it also reveals the artist’s attitude towards his subject matter. Jabbar is a trained artist, with remarkable skill in rendering reality but, for a number of years, he has evolved a certain mode of painting, and sculpting, now distinctly recognised as his signature style. It appears that after achieving the first and foremost desire, of developing a personal style, the next quest for an artist is to find his content. Often the two emerge hand in hand but, in some cases, style is seen an urgent necessity and more important than the subject matter. The latter is employed as mere ‘filler’ to create works of different combinations and compositions.

In the case of Gull, this approach is evident in the way, takhti (turned into taveez), symbols linked to multiple sects, faiths and races, and alphabet-like lines indicate the political and social significance of these works, but not in a convincing manner. Instead, Gull in the process of painting and creating three-dimensional pieces seems to have a need to incorporate some profound substance by inducting these ‘key’ visuals. So the work can be read, not as an exercise of colour and material, but as an intellectual and serious endeavour. Solely because the artist has been manipulating his key codes/pictorial substance more like a visual interplay.

Abdul Jabbar Gull is not the only artist who feels compelled to produce politically and socially relevant work. A number of other creative individuals in our environment face similar pressures -- both from outside and inside: Perhaps because during our training as an artist at art schools and particularly in the critiques of works, we are constantly advised, if not forced, to focus on making work which has a strong social reason for its execution. We are all the time justifying each and every act, either in front of family, friends, teachers or strangers (such as the police, judges, media and journalist). Hence, we have acquired a habit of legitimising our actions for some higher cause.

Often this inner impulse or compulsion, of always dealing with big issues in our lives, has become a trait -- or trademark -- in our art too. It is not surprising in a culture where people hardly spend time in leisure or totally purposeless and fun activities. One just have to look around, to find how deprived we as a nation are of occasions and places that provide meaningless pleasures and hedonistic pursuits. There is hardly a concept of break in our daily existence, so in comparison to other people who spend their weekends in activities for mere fun, we are engaged in ‘fruitful’ tasks even on holidays (one only needs to compare Pakistanis living abroad, specifically in Europe, with the citizens of those countries to confirm that mindset/behaviour).

In that respect, our artists like Jabbar are inclined to work with a ‘reason’ -- even if they want to explore it on an intellectual or formal level. Often that reason is related to greater political and social concerns. Sadly, though, these ideas are just shuffled, shifted and shunted around as visual devices in our artists’ work and as verbal delights in our political talk shows!

Art reviewing, in Pakistan, past and present has essentially been the domain of newspapers and as such, there are two facets to it. One, that the dialogue with the art is on the level of promotion, as the "reviewer" basically describes the pictorial characteristics of the artwork, and plays an important role in informing a non-art, wider readership.

This is an important space, because it has meant promotion and visibility for both the artist and the art gallery. For the insider to art, the critic, artist, curator and gallery owner, there is another layer to the review. This is the layer where the reviewer unpeels the levels of engagement with the artwork. Both types of discourse exist within art writing in Pakistan.

In the latter case, it is what the reviewer brings to the work, in terms of his or her interpretation, that adds to the work. For very long, the spaces within the English press have been the forums of dialogue, with a larger readership in mind, and between members of the art community, whose discourse resides outside the academia of art colleges in Pakistan. It is between these tiers of translating the uninitiated and developing a meaningful discourse that the artist as well as the critic or art writer hopes to communicate and in turn, be understood.

Within these dynamics, one drawback is that the critic’s work is often gauged in terms of his or her approval of the art being reviewed; drawback, because in such expectations by artists, the reading of the greys within the critique are not considered to be of much value. Only the black and white are deemed necessary. The underlying engagement, despite being intellectually engaging may still be a politicised comment by the biased critic. Hidden agendas are the grey spaces of art making and art writing that have dictated the making and writing of art, to a great extent. Not all criticism fits all of these packages of course!

It is in the last ten years or less that a new wave of engagement has been possible in communicating and translating art, through catalogue essays. In this case, an art critic is asked to write an accompanying text, which extends the artists’ viewpoint, vision and articulates the subtext of a body of artwork. The catalogue essay not only documents a body of artwork to different buyers, it is a tool that often provides authenticity to an artist’s narrative.

Almost any narrative can be packaged or packed within a jargon of text that bestows it with authenticity (and authority). However, a catalogue essay, apart from an artist’s statement is an important part of the art discourse. In this vein, Aqeel Solangi’s recent solo show at Koel gallery, Karachi, presents the viewer/visitor and the reader of this review, one such challenge. Apart from the artwork on view, there is a sumptuous catalogue with full colour images of the works, as well as an essay by Dr Akbar Naqvi.

Titled ‘Whispering Images’, Dr Naqvi enters Solangi’s imagery through the narrative of Nasir Kazmi. He refers to Solangi’s images as whispers, akin to the Urdu word ‘sargoshian’ a couplet by Kazmi that speaks about "unmarked islands from which the voice of the beloved can still be heard. The voice of the self, either from an isthmus or undiscovered islands of human psyche, result in the sargoshi of Solangi’s images," he writes.

The recurring cloud in Solangi’s two-dimensional vistas is one such element that the critic identifies as a significant anchor. Unlike any other reviewer who would use a linear description and harp on the material and physical manifestation of the cloud, Naqvi’s approach is non-linear.

His critique, stemming from the context from which the art is borne, opens up the possibilities of interpretations that can rekindle the tired relationship to the vernacular. He speaks about Solangi’s enquiry of the raagmala miniatures of the subcontinent on the visual music associated with the rainy season. He distinguishes Solangi’s cloud from constable’s cloud, a distinction which provides a hint into the critic’s authority of histories, and the points where they must diverge.

The catalogue essay provides sufficient routes of entry to the vernacular, such as to Solangi’s influence of Sufism through the prism of Maulana Rumi and through Shah Abdul Latif Bhittai. One layer in this engagement is what the critic identifies or focuses within the imagery, in which he relates how the artist himself identifies with the narratives embedded in Sindhi poetic traditions such as in ‘Sur Surang’ and Shah Latif’s ‘Risalo’.

The other layer is that the critic brings from his knowledge and understanding of those traditions, through which he provides another or other layers of meanings into Solangi’s art, or Solangi’s ‘culture’, as he writes. It is for this reason that we are able to see the relationships of Mir Anis’ marsia, to the kalaam of Bhittai, and the eventual relationship to Solangi’s influence of Tasawwuf.

Solangi’s imagery will continue to expand and alter with time, but the meanings unpeeled in the catalogue essay can provide narratives that have long been overshadowed.

If Dr Naqvi’s intervention is a challenge to the frameworks in which art is being read (and written about), it is an even greater challenge to an artist like Solangi, who must find the strength to resist the glorification that Naqvi’s critique provides.

Dear All,

A recent short visit to Pakistan proved surprisingly heartening.

We all know the country is struggling with everything, life is hard, prices are crazy and the terrorist threat and other aspects of violence are always present, yet this time I also felt a real buzz of optimism and activity.

I was in Karachi, and things actually seemed to be functioning -- the roads, the traffic, the lights and so on, most things seemed to work. Yes, of course there were power shortages, political murders and the usual urban problems of any metropolis in any developing country, but somehow the mood seemed upbeat.

I do realise that this is a very subjective sort of assessment and not based on anything other than purely personal impressions, but it was somehow comforting.

I even found reports of local level street protests and strikes heartening as they are evidence not just of increasing awareness and resolve in citizens, but also something that is possible because it is tolerated by democratic regimes...

It was also rather nice to know that people are still flocking to public events like melas -- while I was there, the Behbud mela and the Jashn-e-Faiz mela took place on the same weekend in different parts of the city. In fact, the faiz mela, organised by the Citizens for Democracy, was the subject of lively online debate the next day: a newspaper report criticising it called it disorganised and said it had little to do with the work of Faiz Ahmed Faiz. Angry comments on the article rebutted both points saying that tolerance and cultural expression were both key aspects of Faiz’s life and work... and the organising and attendance of such an event was itself a triumph for ‘the people’.

I even noticed some positive aspects of the manic multi-channel TV culture: the hysterical rabble-rousing talk shows seemed to have calmed down slightly, and the consultative nature of phone-ins reveals many interesting stories and issues, for which previously there were, perhaps, not enough outlets.

And even as these personal stories come to the fore, a larger story is slowly unfolding: the political parties realise that elections are looming -- either this year or next -- and a lot of work needs to be done and voters need to be persuaded and wooed.

The revelation of tens of thousands of bogus votes registered in various areas and the compilation of new, verified Nadra ID-based voter lists indicates that the next time around the electoral picture may look a little different from previous years -- in volume of votes at least. Punjab seems to be the key area: what we many years ago used to call "the powers that be" are now sponsoring various individuals and parties in this province, anybody who can break the hold of their previous protégés (the PMLN)...

But have voters and politicians wisened up to these sorts of activities? We know many of these past protégés sort of have, but newcomers (whether ex-presidents or ex-playboys) are keen to get all the ‘sponsorship’ they can, no matter if this goes against all democratic or civilian norms....

I think it’s going to be a rather interesting year... Let’s hope it is not a violent one.

Best Wishes,