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profile pop
queen His
heart in music For
the sake of fake
profile The writer in a nutshell Mohsin Hamid, who is known for tapping into the reader's imagination and is famous for writing gracefully in monologue, speaks about his two best-selling novels and the third one which is about three years away By Haneya H. Zuberi Wearing blue denim jeans, a brown T-shirt and sporting a
cowboy moustache; Mohsin Hamid settles himself down for the interview at a
coffee place in Lahore. Brimming with energy, just like a young rider about
to take charge of his horse, and professionalism of an author of two
best-selling novels; he begins. The literary expert, who is known for tapping into the reader's imagination in his novels and is famous for writing gracefully in monologue, speaks about his interaction with literature while he was growing up. "I read all kinds of stuff. I used to read comics like Tintin, Betty and Veronica, Archie and my grandmother had a subscription to Reader's Digest. I used to read Dr. Seuss, Wind in the Willows, Charlotte's Web and Lord of the Rings, which was a favourite. I liked fantasy books as well as science fiction." Late into secondary school, he started reading adult literature and read authors like Hemingway while he was at college in the states. "Before writing Moth Smoke I remember reading like crazy. But regardless of what I read I enjoyed books which had a plot or a story. I always liked adventure and romance or any story where "something happens"." Having studied under Nobel and Pulitzer Prize winning author Toni Morrison, Hamid acknowledges he learnt a great deal about writing. "Writing is just like learning to make a house or learning to draw. It is a step by step process. From the works of Camus and Calvino, I learnt how you can play different games in a novel. From Hemingway I learnt ways in which you can have a lean masculine narrative; from other writers I learnt how to write small novels. I read many many writers in the process of writing my own book because when you see as a reader something expressed the way you want to express it, you find it useful." His first novel was born from a draft which he wrote for a
fiction class at college. About turning that draft into a novel he says,
"For me, a novel is a process of writing many drafts, more like a
multi-stage process. First draft is always an experiment. I read myself
critically. Does it work? If yes, then how? Then I leave it for a few days
and come back and read it with a fresh eye." He took seven years to write each of his novels and when asked why he took that long, he sips his green tea smiling, "Maybe I am not that good! It takes me that long to figure out; like in the case of Moth Smoke, the story grows, from one person to second person and then to third. I usually write six or seven drafts before I can decide the final version." He went to Harvard Law School and was educated to become a lawyer. He does not practice law, "I didn't like it," he confesses, "I grew up in Zia's era. At that time you couldn't become a musician or a novelist. I always liked writing and arguing. Fundamentally, the idea of constructing argument for the sake of winning a client's case did not appeal to me. I wanted my arguments to be for me not for someone else. I did work as a consultant for a decade till my writing could support me and now it does. It took me almost fifteen years to come to that point." Both his books are widely read in the West and the East. Talking about his target audience he says, "I don't really have a target audience. Spielberg once said that I want to make a film that I would want to watch. Same applies to me. I write things which I would enjoy reading. I use myself as the test audience. I don't know if most writers do this. I want my readers to get something from the few hours they spend reading that book. In the course of writing, I read what I write many times. Today before the interview I read and re read the few pages I wrote this morning and read them aloud to see how they were." When asked if he ever has to conduct a writing workshop in
Lahore, what would it be like in a nutshell? "Huh!" he said
thinking, "I never thought of that!" He takes another sip of his
green tea "Everybody has to come and read their stuff. I want to hear a
voice. Anyone who I think has a voice would be someone I'd like to work with.
If I pick a book and I don't hear a voice I won't like to read it. If the
writer or narrator is so compelling on a topic I don't even like that; you
should go find that voice yourself and if you haven't done that you're not a
writer. The ones that sound good I'd ask them to read me a chapter and if a
voice is there throughout then I can talk about building it up. I would, say,
give them a reading list. I would ask them not to copy those authors but read
them by themselves. Maybe I could assign books and have a group discussion on
the way you structure a novel. It is like the same way you can learn to play
a guitar by listening to Jimmy Cage. You listen to it and then play. Writing
is a craft like music. If you don't do either of those two things you are not
a writer." About the new trend of Pakistani authors writing English novels, he says "I am glad that it has come. The publishing industry has realised that they are making money. It is a global thing now, we are benefiting from a global market place where people see the writing is coming. Young writers want to do it. If you come from a country where recent recognition is less, you might dream less. But if you see it happening, you're more likely to go for it! "Pakistan has some kind of affinity. There is a lot of freedom and at the same time there isn't. A paradox exists. Human imagination and writing allows you to break out of this. Unlike a film you don't need a lot of money either. All you need is a laptop or computer or even just a pen!" Hamid went abroad for studies after high school. When asked how being away from home affected his general perception of looking at things and his writing he says, "Everything affects your writing, if you get beaten up as kid or not, get heart broken or not, if you are a boy or girl. Your writing comes from who you are as a human being. Whether being educated abroad after high school has improved me or not, I don't know. The goal is being true to who you are now. I mean for me, I don't say Reluctant Fundamentalist is improved from Moth Smoke. But I understand much more about how writing works now. It's a mystical process. I believe that the objective of arts isn't improvement but it is delivering that magical individual mystical element." About leaving London and moving to Lahore, he says "I always wanted to move back. I could never think of leaving Lahore. I received so much love here. I have my family, my cousins. It feels natural here, despite the problems it feels like home. Lahore makes me happy and it is where I want my daughter to grow up." On foreseeing a revolution in Pakistan, he speculates,
"I think society is evolving, in many directions at the same time. In
the eighties there was talk about dictatorships, in the nineties democracy
and now Talibanisation. But at the same time you hear about sex videos and
kids doing drugs. It means that different things are happening at the same
time. Millions of people are getting mobile phones but at the same time many
people don't have much to eat. People like me or people who want to cover
their heads and grow beards should all exist together. Co-existence is what
this country needs, respect would be fantastic. We all cheer when cricket
team wins and when rain comes. We are all one country and we need to find
ways to share it." Speaking about the percentage of Pakistanis who read and accept his literature, he says "A very small percent, one in a thousand of the Pakistani population probably. Among English-speaking people in the urban centre, middle class, college educated people, I think quite a few. My objective isn't reaching everybody; it is leaving a positive impact." About impacting the cultural side of the country, Hamid adds "Imaginations are like muscles they need to be worked out. If you give people good books or movies, you do make a difference." In both his novels, the characters have historic names Changez, Aurangzeb and Dara Shikoh. Why? He starts enthusiastically, "I thought using history was an amazing idea. In the book, the names build up the characters. Aurangzeb and Dara Shikoh's roles relate to the personalities of the historical characters. Changez Khan was Mongol warrior, not a Muslim. In my new novel, Changez fights a corporate war and isn't religious either! My third novel might not have this approach to names at all!" he says with a grin. Comparing the Lahore of 2010 with that of Moth Smoke in 2000 he says, "People tell me what I described in Moth Smoke, is seen now. The kind of issues about romantic relationships, urban life, changing society are very much true now. I met Russel Banks at a literature festival in Italy. I asked about his book and he said that it is too early to tell. He said if people are still reading your book after ten years you can start to understand what it has done. Moth Smoke has proven to be something that is read. It has acquired a kind of life in Pakistan. Abroad also some people who read Reluctant Fundamentalist go back to see what else I have written and read Moth Smoke." When asked about his response to questions which arose from Moth Smoke relating to drug culture and secrets of the lives of the elites which to an average, common man in Pakistan were completely alien he says, "If people ask me, 'Wow! does it happen?' I say yes. Some people have told me it doesn't happen and that I make Pakistan look bad by writing about these things. I tell them what makes you look bad is hiding who you are. You should be open. It's the same thing as a country. Moth Smoke doesn't say drugs are good but it says that it happens. In Pakistan, the idea that we hide bad things proves that we are ashamed; the healthy thing is figuring out what is true and talking about what we are ashamed of. If a woman is raped in village you can either not talk about it or talk about it and make sure it doesn't happen to other women." On the validity of the two nation theory, Hamid says, "We can't go back to 1947. We are two nations now. Instead of obsessing about two nation theory, we should move on. We are a nation. Issues of faith and religion are fundamentally about sincerity. What I honestly and sincerely believe in is what matters to me. It should not be the business of anybody else. Let people practice their religion and have their own relationship. It is madness driving everything based on what I think religion is. Why needlessly introduce one person's view of religion? I think that there should be no apostasy law or blasphemy law and we are nobody to determine if our fellows are going to heaven or hell." Burqa is banned in France, while there were only 400 women wearing it and minarets have been banned in Switzerland while there were only four on the land. Hamid admits that "It is pure intolerance that burqa is banned. But on the other hand, let's see how we treat minorities in our country. What we do is much worse. What we should do is set an example. We should demonstrate the same value we want to see." For many novelists their first novel -- which again in many cases is the "coming age novel" -- often has an autobiographical undertone. Now in Hamid's second novel, Changez goes to Princeton. Here is an excerpt from Reluctant Fundamentalist: "What did I think of Princeton? Well, the answer to that question requires a story. When I first arrived, I looked around me at the Gothic buildings -- younger, I later learned, than many of the mosques of this city, but made through acid treatment and ingenious stonemasonry to look older -- and thought, This is a dream come true. Princeton inspired in me the feeling that my life was a film in which I was the star and everything was possible. I have access to this beautiful campus, I thought, to professors who are titans in their fields and fellow students who are philosopher-kings in the making." Majority of readers assumed that he is pouring out his sentiments of fulfillment after arriving at his dream college like any college student would. On this Hamid clears out that, "Similar sentiments could have been said by me about Princeton. The issue is that Changez is not meant to be me. It's a character who does these things. It is not really me pouring out. All that I wrote is reasonably true of Princeton but not how I would describe it maybe!" I ask him that if someone is to take his entire library away and he is left to choose three books to keep with him. Which three would he choose? He smiles and asks "Will I never be allowed to go to a bookstore again?" I say "No". "Well in that case," he says, "I would pick Charlotte's Web, Wind in the Willow and Lord of the Rings. If I keep those three I'd like to give those to my daughter." His third book is on its way. There are people out there waiting for it eagerly. He says, "if that is true, it is wonderful!" When asked how long their wait is, he said, "My guess is three years. Could be a year more or a year less!"
Voice that lives on Ten years after her death, Nazia Hassan is still remembered not only for the musical treasures of joy and peace but also because she showed us what is played is the music, not the instrument By Siraj Khan The year 1980 swept into the Indian film industry a
Pakistani girl. She came to India via England to rock the world of music with
her own trail-blazing style of get-up-and-dance flavour. Then, it would have
been difficult to conceive that a young girl, barely in her mid-teens, would
perhaps unknowingly set an example of aman ki asha on a scale that even
established politicians and diplomats would not be able to achieve. Feroz Khan's Qurbani would have still been a success at the box-office even without Baat Ban Jaye, but just this song sung by Nazia Hassan and picturised on vivacious Zeenat Aman had something in it, the magic which nobody had visualised in their wildest imagination. Biddu, a UK-based Indian music producer, who already had several hits under his belt producing hit songs for Tina Charles, Carl Douglas and others, composed Nazia's first mega hit. Biddu is known for danceable faves like "Ring My Bell" and "Kung Fu Fighting." Both the song and singer became overnight sensations. Nazia won a Filmfare Award in 1981 for the Best Female Singer -- the first Pakistani artiste to achieve this honour. She remains the youngest recipient ever to win this award -- an added distinction unlikely to be surpassed for a long time to come. Nazia Hassan had set the music scene alight in India with her joyous, hyper-desi disco trend. The effect of her popularity across the length and breadth of the subcontinent was nothing short of magical. Political boundaries seemed to disappear. Seamless movement of people started across the borders. Even cricket between the countries started to resurface. The youth on both sides of the border looked up to Nazia
as the subcontinent's first true pop diva, with stunning looks to go with the
voice. India Today magazine voted Nazia Hassan -- a Pakistani -- as one of
the 50 people who helped change the face of India. The most visible and
tangible change in India's music space was the personal album trend which
began taking off with Lucky Ali, Alisha Chinoy, Shewata Shetty and many
others. Nazia Hassan's phenomenal success was no flash in the pan. She teamed up with her brother Zoheb and produced hit after hit. Coming at the heels of Baat Bun Jaye in 1981, was Disco Deewane which broke all sales records not only in India and Pakistan but also topped the charts in Brazil, the West Indies and Europe. Successful albums like Star/Boom Boom (1982), Young Tarang (1984), Hotline (1987) followed and later Camera Camera (1982) rolled out, along with TV shows with BBC, ITV, Channel 4. In 1989, Nazia and Zoheb hosted the groundbreaking all-Pakistan television pop show called Music'89, produced by Shoaib Mansoor. Culture and art play a key role in building bridges between boundaries. In fact, culture and art belong to the whole world. Before them vanish the barriers of religions and nationalities. Those who believe in this have seen it for themselves. Some of us discovered this rather late in our lives. Nazia Hassan was a great believer in the power of music, something that she identified very early in her life. Perhaps the seeds for such a thinking and conviction were
sown very early in her tender years. Nazia was a child participant / student
of Music Maestro Sohail Rana in the PTV program Kaliyon ki Maala . I recall
Dosti Aisa Naata Jo Sonay Sey Bhi Mehanga. Kaliyon Ki Mala took the shape of
Sung Sung Chalte Rehna, Saat Suroon Ki Duniya and Hum Hi Hum, which were also
directed by Sohail Rana in his inimitable style and methodology. Nazia
started to bloom and really began singing not only in her voice, but also
from the heart. She has on many occasions acknowledged the contribution of
her mentor Sohail Rana in polishing her hidden talent and also building her
confidence and self-discipline. Yet another student of Sohail Rana, Adnan
Sami during his recent interview with ARY the Pakistani TV channel,
acknowledged his tutelage by Sohail Rana in 1979/80 in the TV program Rung
barangi duniya from PTV Islamabad Centre. Nazia's passion for building bridges was not confined to music. Armed with a law degree, she ended up working for the UN from 1992-94, when she got married and moved to Dubai in 1995. Alas, history is full of great people who achieved in a few years, what others do in a lifetime. Like so many wonderful artistes of the subcontinent before her -- Geeta Dutt, Geeta Bali, Madhubala, Meena Kumari and others -- Nazia Hassan succumbed prematurely to disease and illness. It was ten years ago on August 13, 2000, when she left for the heavenly abode, just in her mid-thirties. Yes, it's been ten years. Nazia, you will be remembered not only for the musical treasures of joy and peace that you have left for us, but also because you showed us that what is played is the music, not the instrument. More importantly, we admire you for taking music beyond borders. Shayed baat bun hee jaye! A few gems from Nazia Hassan's treasure box, which she has left for us. Dum dum dee dee http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xssv5Je-6xk Boom Boom http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1sHTPrlQPBA&feature=related Ye DIl Tere liye http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iYXn38P8qdM&feature=related Ajnabi http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xaQQTwDnB8M&feature=related
Though many male singers have appeared in film music, the void created by Rafi is still largely unfilled By Sarwat Ali For the people of Lahore the name Mohammed Rafi strikes a sympathetic chord. Though he lived in Lahore in his early formative years and then left for greener pastures to Bombay, the capital of filmmaking in the subcontinent in early 1940s where he lived and died in 1980, he is considered by Lahorites to be their own son. As it is, success has a thousand parents while failure is an
orphan. Had Mohammed Rafi not achieved the success that he did and risen to
unprecedented heights of popularity one wonders whether Lahore would have
owned him with the same gusto. Bare Ghulam Ali Khan who also left Pakistan
soon after its formation is considered by the Lahorites to be their beloved
son as well. And he too rose to great heights and was acknowledged across the
board as a vocalist, the likes of whom had not been heard for quite some
time. The only exception of a star being at the height of her career quitting the film capital was Noor Jehan. She ruled the film music world and two of her biggest hits Anmol Ghari and Jugnu had further certified her great appeal and popularity. But she left Bombay for Lahore, a place totally uncertain about its future. Her person and image were largely instrumental in reviving the film industry. It is only a matter of conjecture as to what quality of music she could have produced working with those composers in Bombay and how her musical relationship with Lata Mangeshkar would have worked out. Just to sound out what the situation was like Dilip Kumar had also sent his brother Nasir Khan to Lahore and he worked in the early films here but left for Bombay probably reporting to his brother that he should not risk his career by leaving the thriving Bombay film world for the rickety films industry of Lahore. Dilip Kumar had just established himself as the leading man with Jugnu after a string of early failures. Pakistanis have also held him dearly and when he visited Pakistan well past his prime in the 1980s he almost received a welcome akin to the head of the state. Probably in the early years the people, especially those associated with the films could live in one country and work freely in both. It was difficult for them to imagine that political boundaries will also sever human, artistic and professional links but it eventually turned out to be so. Khurshid Anwar lived in Lahore and worked in Bombay for the first few years and it was only in 1956 that his first Pakistani film Intezaar was released. Khayyam too from Lahore was in Bombay and it took him a while to become a leading composer though his compositions in those early days were much appreciated for their virtuosity. Once Rafi left for Bombay he never looked back. Born in a village Kotla Sultan Singh in the Punjab, Mohammed Rafi moved to Lahore and spent the formative period of his life in the city working as a barber in a family enterprise. But his heart lay in music and he moved in and mixed freely with the music circles picking the finer aspects of singing from several well-known singers and musicians of Lahore. The music scene was quite vibrant and people like Jeevan Lal Mattoo served as connoisseurs and patrons of music in the city. It was in these baithaks and soirées that Mohammed Rafi picked up the finer aspects from ustads like Abdul Waheed Khan and Chote Ghulam Ali Khan. Feroz Nizami introduced him to the radio in Lahore before he made his film debut for Shayam Sunder's Punjabi Film Gul Baloch in 1944. Once he moved to Bombay, Naushad gave him a break in Pehle Aap. Initially film music looked for its first real male singer and found one in Kundan Lal Saigal who dominated the next 15 years till his untimely death when he was barely in his forties. Since music was making a transition from the purist tradition cultivated by individual patrons and super virtuosity of master musicians to a more popular level, hemmed in by the limitations of the market and disparate popular expectation, the music composers did a fine job of not letting go of the essentials of their local musical traditions. Mohammed Rafi lived in that phase and despite the innovations and changes never tinkered with the essentials of the music tradition. Though he was noticed in Anmol Ghari and sang alongside K.L Saigal in Shah Jehan, both under the music direction of Naushad, it was his duet with Noor Jehan in Jugnu composed by Feroz Nizami that catapulted him as a serious contender to fill the vacant slot of the leading male vocalist. He truly arrived as an individual vocalist in Mela where again he sang under Naushad's direction. Mohammed Rafi was trained in the classical tradition and when the film music moved into top gear with greater input from the enriched musical heritage, he had the credentials to be its chief exponent. In Baiju Bawra he demonstrated his virtuosity and range and in Piyasa the evocative power he could bring to the lyrics. Though he did make a partial transition to a more youthful and playful style as in Junglee that demanded a different kind of musical ability, he was too closely wedded to the classical tradition to wander too far from it. It has been thirty years since the death of Rafi in August 1980 and his songs are still heard and listened by a large section of the music lovers. He can be considered as the most important male vocalist ever to have appeared on the film music horizon. He ruled film music in the decades of the 1950s and 1960s and managed to survive in the 1970s despite rapidly changing musical tastes. Mohammed Rafi had opted to stay in Bombay, a rational decision given the fact that it was the centre of filmmaking in the subcontinent and he was on the threshold of making his mark. In the last couple of decades no male singer has emerged to take the place of Rafi in films. Though many male voices have appeared, the void created by Mohammed Rafi is still unfilled. No one has really been able to dominate this field as he did. Probably the times have changed and the recording technology has undergone significant transformation as well, displacing the human voice from its prerogative position, but given all this the musical ability of no one since has been a match to him.
In the world of art, the issue of fake is not as important as the motive behind it By Quddus Mirza While most of us seem obsessed with the idea of fake in
connection with elected parliamentarians' academic credentials, and act as
accuser, prosecutor and judge, we forget that fake is not confined to the
world of politics or journalism. We are surrounded by fake all the time. Our
roadsides and markets are full of clothing items, belts and bags etc. that
bear the labels of famous international designers. Owing to their easy
availability and affordable costs in a third world country like ours, their
usage is routine and no one stops to question or think about its moral
dimensions. Actually, there is a subtle difference between fakery and forgery. In the first case, the maker, the seller and the buyer are all aware of the worth of a product being a copy. It is objectionable in the sense of violating the intellectual property rights. But forgery, on the other hand, is about deceiving someone by projecting the fake as real. In the world of art, one encounters both types -- fake and forged works. For example, a small shop in a market near Gulberg Lahore sells Allah Bux, Ahmed Pervaiz, Jamil Naqsh, Sadequain and many others for nominal prices. These are bad reproductions of the original works, made in water colours, bearing signs of masters. The customer is normally conscious of the quality of the pieces on sale. On another level, we see a number of art pieces that, on a first glance, look like works of famous artists, both dead and alive, bearing signatures almost identical to the original artists. Compared to cheap and imperfect reproductions in water colours, these works fetch higher sums, since these provide an opportunity for the buyers to impress others who may mistake these as real. Another form of fakery is forged pieces of artworks offered as genuine creations by painters and sold at higher prices. Often these are new compositions in the style of dead artists or perfect copy of an existing original (a business preferred by some galleries, with the infamous case of a gallery in Lahore that sold two identical copies of a painting to a single buyer in Islamabad, first in person and second time through internet!). Here both the maker and seller of these works deliberately deceive their customers. An unethical practice, no doubt, which if examined closely is a sad comment on the art world, where creative expression has been reduced to a matter of hard cash. Whatever the rationale may be, the fact remains that fake
works of art are a part of our existence. One can disagree with the motive or
the range of benefit but one can not imagine the world of art without fake
pieces or forgeries. Even in the history of art, the copies of Greek
sculptures in the Roman period contributed immensely in continuing the Greek
ideas of perfection, beauty and proportions (a fact that is taught throughout
in art history). Similarly there are cases in which artists have confessed of
making faithful copies of others, either to learn the craft of painting or to
survive by selling these to untrained buyers. The issue of fake brings us back to the cave of Plato, in which the world of living is the imitation of the archetypes, which are reflections of primordial forms. In the realm of art, the matter of fake is not astonishing because the activity of art making itself is a kind of lie; or an act of making the lie a truth. "We all know that Art is not truth. Art is a lie that makes us realize the truth," said Pablo Picasso. Artists learn to paint a face, a flower or fruits appearing so real, that a man or any other specie is tricked by the image of reality. There are incidents of flies being attracted to the painted flowers or people trying to enter a space in the works of art, recorded in art history. This element of fake is extended into the filed of film too, in which the audience believe in the images in front of them, to that extent that they love, cry, support and hate actors, who are playing as characters on the screen. This is what became known to us in literature as Coleridge's idea of "willing suspension of disbelief". Therefore, the issue of fake is not as important as the motive behind it; it's the motive that makes it kosher or criminal. If fake is presented for a higher cause, i.e., an exercise in skill, a learning process, sharing ideas and emotions with others or defying some dictatorial decree, it is admissible, but if this is to bluff others for material gains or monetary success, it is criminal and condemnable. It is extremely important to trace the motive, otherwise detecting a fake is not enough, since there are many layers of fakery within ourselves which we happily accept and live with: Silicon implants of body parts, artificial limbs, transplanted and dyed hair, false dentures and porcelain teeth in our mouths, which we so often open to denounce fake in someone else! |
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