The domino effect of the violent incidents that hit Karachi last week were triggered off after a large group of protestors sat in at the Bacha Khan Chowk in the Orangi Town area, to prove that they were being unfairly treated since the last few days.

The protesters were Pukhtoons and they complained they were being deprived of their livelihood by certain elements in Karachi, and that their cabins and tea stalls were being forcibly closed down.

In fact this protest, which later turned into a clash and spread like wildfire in the city, was only inevitable, because this was waiting to happen since some time.

Ethnic problems have been resurfacing in Karachi since the past few months, and the forceful closure of tea stalls had begun since then, in the suburbs of Karachi. There have been scattered incidents that had begun right after the Muttahida Qaumi Movement (MQM) announced there was Taliban presence in Karachi, a notion that was scoffed of and scorned at by many intellectuals, and members of opposition political parties on pretext of it being exaggerated.

It actually caused more tension when the MQM started pushing for an anti-Talibanisation drive. Nusrat Idrees, professor at the Political Science Department of Karachi University, says the Taliban issue ought to be addressed, because Karachi is definitely a place that offers refuge to extremists. It is undeniable that violent incidents have increased and angered the Pukhtoon community.

Perhaps the first major incident occurred when seven blasts rocked Karachi in July this year, in various places. The first one exploded in Banaras, an area in Orangi Town where both Pukhtoons and Urdu speakers live. It shook the Pukhtoon community and consequently the Awami National Party (ANP) had to calm down its workers in order to prevent any retaliatory action.

The calmness that followed was a facade, for simmering underneath was deep resentment between the Urdu Speakers and the Pakhtoons, because activists of both the ANP and MQM were killed in target killings.

A high-level police officer tells TNS these riots were definitely ethnic in nature and the situation is expected to become worse right after Eid-ul-Azha. The officer says things might take an ugly turn once the dispute over donation of animal skins arises. The MQM, ANP and Sunni Tehreek (ST) all have their own teams that collect sacrificial animals' skins.

In this context, Shamshad Ahmed Ghauri, a central leader of the MQM-Haqiqi, Gadap Committee, accuses the MQM of staging the recent violence in Karachi. "The MQM wants the money from the skins in order to buy weapons and ammunition," he alleges. "They also had a clash with the ST before this for the same reason, because they want to terrify their 'competitors'. But this was only one of the reasons. They want to simply clear the city of the Pakhtoons."

The MQM-Haqiqi claims in an estimate the MQM could make up to Rs300 million if it does really well in collecting skins. "Goat skins go for Rs2000, while Rs3000 can be earned on each cow skin. With this money, they will build up their ammunition supply," Ghauri says.

Saeed Ahmed Khan, president ANP, District West, Karachi, says it is obvious who started the problem. "How is that all the attacks took place right after Altaf Hussain made his speech about selling television sets and buying weapons, and told his workers that they should start selling peanuts and do small time work… everything that we Pukhtoons are doing in Karachi? Even after that we turned the other cheek, because we wanted peace in the city.

Saeed admits there must be a lot of Pukhtoons involved in the land mafia in Karachi. But he says in all fairness if the land mafia ought to be taken to task or the network broken, then it should be done on both sides, not just in the form of an ethnic crackdown. "Many Pakhtoons have already left the city, heartbroken for being evicted like this," he says. "They are being told they are involved with the Taliban and they have no business to be in this city," he adds.

The MQM denies these allegations. Farhat M Khan, the MNA from the North Nazimabad, says that it should be noted the area where the trouble started were not Muttahida-dominated areas. Furthermore, nothing was damaged in the Muttahida areas.

"No Pakhtoon was driven out of the city or killed, no shops were gutted in any of our areas," Farhat says. "These accusations are baseless. People should try and remember the criminal activities of December 27. Who were those people? Nobody knows and no one has bothered to know. But these are the same people who are trying to destabilise Karachi. These are the same people who want to destabilise the government."

While many blame the MQM for starting the ethnic riots, the issue of land grabbing seems to point towards both the groups as culprits. Parveen Rehman, director of the Orangi Pilot Project (OPP), agrees that there is a rift between the two, because the Pakhtoons control many of these goths; while, at the same time, the city government wants to get rid of these 'encroachments'.

"Sometimes even old goths in areas like Orangi are being removed by the city government, which scared and angered these people," she says. With the only relatively empty lands in Karachi being in Bin Qasim Town, Keamari Town and Gadap Town, which are located in the suburbs of the city, this is usually where the removal of 'encroachments' occur. This is also where the goths are concentrated.

Taking into account the violent incidents, DIG, West Zone, Karachi, Sardar Abdul Majeed Dasti, who is well acquainted with the texture of ethnic violence, says that police will now be deployed and pickets erected in the sensitive areas, while some points will now have a police permanent deployment. In the meantime, Capital City Police Officer (CCPO) Waseem Ahmed refused to comment on the status of de-weaponisation in Karachi.

Meanwhile, in the three days of violence, most people who have been killed belong to the underprivileged, working class. The most affected areas of Karachi include Pakistan Bazaar, Banaras Chowk, Orangi, North Nazimabad, New Karachi, Sohrab Goth, Korangi and Malir. Buses were burnt by the dozen every half an hour, and the sound of gunshots was the only sound in neighbourhoods where otherwise the silence had become deafening.

American-based Indian filmmaker Sarah Singh was recently in town in connection with the screening of her first documentary film, titled The Sky Below, set in the backdrop of partition, when The News on Sunday caught up with her for an exclusive interview.

Born in Patiala in 1971, Sarah has spent most of her growing years in New York where she is currently working with the local film industry "in different capacities, whether it is editing, direction or camera" (to quote her own words) on television as well as feature film. "I work as a freelancer across the board."

The News on Sunday: What has your focus been in terms of arts?

Sarah Singh: Since childhood my focus has been two-dimensional images. Painting is something that I studied at school.

TNS: Have you gone back to India lately?

SS: A lot of times; between 1994 to 1997 I was in Mumbai. I was there to work on my film The Sky Below. It took me a good two years to complete -- all the travelling and post production included.

TNS: Why did you choose partition as the subject of your documentary? Don't you think a lot has already been done on that?

SS: That's not true. In fact, I was intrigued to make this documentary because it is one of the biggest events of the 20th century and it has gotten very little attention with regard to the kind of massive shift that took place at that time, the exchange of population, and the creation of a new country. 20th century history has revolved around World War II and the holocaust in Europe and all things that happened 'elsewhere' have not been given due attention.

As far as I am concerned, tucked away in the US, I wondered what would be intriguing that I could follow and use as a thread. So when I started to look at partition as an idea I realised there was very little, especially in terms of documentary, that had been done. There are a number of books that are well known, such as Train to Pakistan, Pinjar and Midnight's Children and we've had adaptations for TV and film. A lot of academic work has also been done on the subject but that reaches a very different audience.

TNS: What is your target audience?

SS: For my audience, I was really using myself as an example because I knew so very little about partition. I wanted to explore and understand the region better, from a historical context. So I looked at my target audience as someone like myself who is politically aware and very interested in things happening in other parts of the world. It is for people who are eager to learn and understand more.

TNS: You have screened the movie at a number of places. What kind of response have you gotten so far?

SS: Well, the response has been very good. People who either don't know anything or are not connected (to the subcontinent) certainly have an insight into the Indo-Pak relations. The kind of places I visited and the people that I met really provided the framework and context (for the film) in the broader base. So it is really looking at the region as a whole north-west region and the audience's reaction has been fantastic. But I also feel that this film will be more appreciated years from now. Sometimes you just need to give things a chance to age a bit and only then people start to think why and how valuable this kind of work really is -- in the long term.

I knew I was not making a commercial Bollywood kind of a film that would have a mass appeal; it was going to appeal to a different kind of audience. The film I intended to make was one that had a lasting substance.

TNS: As part of the sub-continent diaspora, do you feel a difference in your perception about the history of partition, now that you have a finished product in your hand?

SS: I can't say that much changed for me because I really knew very little. I wasn't raised in an environment that could condition me to think of one side as opposed to the other. But it proved to be a blessing in disguise because I got to travel around with a unprejudiced mind in many ways.

TNS: Was it difficult for you to deal with such a sensitive topic without taking sides?

SS: There are so many strands to this part of history. It's definitely not black or white; it is grey. And I realised very early when I started to ask people about where the responsibility lay that people had completely different ideas. But this wasn't what I wanted to focus on, since I didn't want to get into the blame game. So I decided that I wanted to suggest (in the film) that things are not that simple. I did that through a statement by Raza Kazim. I learned that there are many strands to the story and many more yet to be uncovered.

I wanted to bring the issue into a contemporary light. When you watch the film, you will realise that I go back five thousand years to the Indus civilisation and then come back to the present. There is very small amount of narration in the film. I wanted to keep it minimal since I wanted the story to unfold through the people I had met along the way.

TNS: How did you fight the bias?

SS: One should know both sides fully well; otherwise one's view could be very biased. Unfortunately, the government encourages that bias. 60-odd years later, the governments on both sides encourage and exaggerate the divide rather than facilitating reconciliation. That is what our generations need to find out to help the region prosper.

TNS: ...To make peace and move on?

SS: Well, humans are humans, whether you follow one religion or you don't. There will always be violence and things that will divide us. So it is not an easy thing to put the past in the trunk, turn the key and walk away. That is not even possible; the past is with us all the time. What we have to do is look at it philosophically how we can really move forward as a society, how we can grow as human beings and try to be out of this culture of power play and legalised destruction. 5000 years of civilisation and we have a greater number of weapons and a greater capability to kill the world.

TNS: What does the title The Sky Below stand for?

SS: I struggled literally till the end of the editing process and was still not sure as to the title of the film. All I knew was that I wanted something which would be visually evocative and would represent the feeling that many people have had with regards to partition; hence, The Sky Below. So instead of something being in a familiar place it is suddenly completely altered.

TNS: Anything that took you by surprise?

SS: When I was researching, I went to several libraries and found that if you were looking for imagery around the partition theme, you wouldn't have much. All you are going to find are 'rehabilitation' efforts. You feel as if you are looking at an album of pictures that show that partition wasn't a difficult time. That took me completely by surprise.

TNS: What are your future plans? Where do you see yourself five years from now?

SS: I see myself working in this region. I do have a feature film idea ready for production that should take place next year. We intend to shoot here in Pakistan also.

TNS: Tell us a bit more about the feature film?

SS: Well, it is set in the pre-partition India -- the 1940s basically -- with the shadows of the WWII, a drive towards independence and a lot of unrest in the atmosphere. It was also a time when everyone was jostling for power, whether the princely families or upcoming politicians, knowing that things were about to change dramatically. That is what I am going to be working on.

Usually, in classical music, it takes time for the vocalist or the instrumentalist to earn the appreciation of the connoisseurs and gurus. It goes to the sheer credit of Manjiri Asanare--Kelkar, a very well-known artiste from India, that she is well received wherever she performs.

Manjiri established a name for herself at a very young age. Born to a family of musicians, her father Anand Asanare was a well known tabla player who belonged to the famous Jaipur Atrauli Gharana, being the shagird of Madhusuan Kanekar. The latter had a long association with Ustad Bhurji Khansahib, son of the legendary Allahdiya Khan.

On a private visit to Pakistan recently, Manjiri spoke of some of the finer aspects of music. She exhibits an astonishing depth of understanding in music. She employs her pliant, polished and seasoned voice with a full-throated, open akaar.

One of the most characteristic features of our music is applying the nuances which are embedded in the musical distance between the notes. Her glides are easy and graceful, intertwining of sur and lai is so fine as to make the two inseparable. The skillful negotiation and execution of taans with a veteran's aplomb, a meticulous adherence to the bandish, the moods and emotions expounded in the raag, all beautifully mingle together to make her performance slick, scintillating and spell-binding.

She has inherited the subtle nuances of Kesarbai Kerkar, Master Krishenrao, and Pt Gajananrao Joshi as she sings the rare and precious compositions she has received from Deodhar, Gulubhai Jasdanwala and Azizuddin Khan Sahib, the grandson of Allahdiya Khan.

The Indian performers of classical music usually adhere to a very distinct method. They follow the laid-down rules very religiously. As they progress from the alaap to the exposition of the raag in the vilampat lai, they break off before beginning the bandish in maadh lai. The same pattern is followed by her and Manjiri does not usually play around with this methodical exposition as many Pakistani classical vocalists tend to do.

Allahdiya Khan was a contemporary of Tanras Khan, Haddo Khan and Mubarak Khan and called them 'the gods of music'. His family hailed from Atrauli but moved to Uniyara, a small state in the vicinity of Jaipur. Born in a family of dhrupad singers, his rigorous training was supervised by his uncle Jahangir Khansahab after the early death of his father Ahmad Khansahab. Jahangir Khansahab's musical knowledge was immense, pulling one bandish after another from his repertoire which was huge with the treasure trove of about twenty five thousand compositions. The ability to compose bandishes that omitted certain basic phrases of the raag, or even notes was not just a matter of superior technique; it was an act of supreme musical intelligence.

Allahdiya Khan made the transition from dhrupad to khayal during the course of his life. He had learnt dhrupad from Jahangir Khansahab and Chimman Khansahab, who was also his uncle and, later, father-in-law, though both had learnt khayal from Ghulam Ghaus Khansahab of Bundi. He decided to sing in the madh lai.

As he moved from Jaipur court to Shahu Maharaj court, dissociation from a certain type of musical community and an attempt to face up to the new demands made on the singer impacted a profoundly important shift in the second half of the nineteenth century. The incorporation of the North Indian classical music into the cultural life of Maharashtra had far reaching implications for the fundamental character of music. Side by side with the forms of courtly patronage were the opportunities offered by the cities of Calcutta and Bombay, centres of consumption of cultural products but yet to become a permanent home to gharanedaar artistes.

The same transition was made by Abdul Karim Khan, and his later life was also spent in Maharashtra where he passed on the musical knowledge to a number of his shagirds. This period of music, relationship to the classical forms and the new centres which exemplified a market-oriented way of life like Bombay and Calcutta has not really been explored. This was some kind of a transitional phase that changed music in many distinct ways.

There are no commercial records nor did Allahdiya Khan sing for the radio. As Malik Arjun Mansoor once said, it was very difficult to reconstruct the style of Allahdiya Khan from the sum of his disciples, as he constructed styles for his students, keeping in mind their respective abilities and strengths. No commercial recordings survived of any of his early disciples like Haider Khansahab, his sons Manji Khansahab and Bhurji Khansahab.

Allahdiya Khan left behind many shagirds and it can be said with a degree of confidence that in this time and age his teaching line is still full of recognisable names, one being Manjiri Asanare. When Manjiri performs, at times it appears that she is exposing the raag the way Malik Aryjun Mansoor does, especially when she does so in the madh lai, at times she seems to be singing like Kaiserbai Kerkar.

Manjiri Asanare scored a good position at the university and was awarded the Soorashiri Kaserbai Kerkar scholarship in 1994. She received classical music scholarship for the year 1992-3 awarded by the government of India. She has won the Hira Bai Badodekar Smruti Gan Hira prize from the SNDT University and Saskiriti Award 2003 meant for inspiring and honouring talent within the 25-35 age group. She is also a regular, A-grade artiste at the All India Radio.

She has performed at the 41st Sawai Gandharva Music Festival, Pune; Megh Malhar Samaroha, Mumbai; Jaipur Samaroh, Bhopal; Tansen Samaroh, Gwalior; Kesarbai Kerkar Smiti Samaroh, Goa; Sangeet Natak Academy 2003, Hyderabad; Shankarlal Music Festival, Delhi; Dover Lane Conference, Kolkata; and Harwallab Music Festival, Jallandhar. She also had the honour to perform at the conclusion of the ITC Sangeet Sammellan in 1996 in Kolkata.

Masood A. Khan is a painter who rose to prominence on the strength of his watercolours, rendered in subtle hues, with views of rural and urban settings overlapping each other.

Using the same technique, in his earlier works, houses, trees, articles of furniture, animals and human beings are drawn in multiple layers, usually in thin lines of pencil or ink. The contours of bodies are defined and the light patches of colour are outlined to separate one mass from the other. Due to its novelty value, these experiments with form found immediate appreciation, also leading to a series of exhibitions.

Till date, Masood has exhibited his works in three cities of Pakistan and even abroad -- in Sharjah and New Zealand. His past work was praised because it offered a fresh vision and an interesting visual solution/dimension to an ordinary subject, the landscape or cityscape. In addition to a mere depiction of scenes, his work dealt with other concerns, too. For instance, how a citizen of our times encounters alienation in our surroundings. Humans juxtaposed with built spaces and objects from their close environment convey a complete (including physical and psychological) social scenario.

However, this earlier success seems to have some serious side effects (although what happened to Masood is a common phenomenon among painters in our part of the world). After initial fame a number of our artists feel content with repeating what the viewers accepted and the buyers expect. Supreme example in this regard is that of Mashkoor Raza, a painter discovered and promoted by Ali Imam. The veteran artist and educator offered Raza his first solo exhibition at the Indus Gallery and also supported him later. But with the passage of time Raza disappointed Imam with his commercial leanings and plagiarising other artists' imagery, mainly M. F. Husain, Jamil Naqsh and Gulgee.

In a way, Masood A. Khan is not much different from Mashkoor Raza. For every artist the creative pursuit is not a straight or secure path; it is an uphill task, really. Hence if a person does not move ahead, he cannot maintain his position for long and is bound to slide down. It appears that Masood Khan's downfall has just begun. His latest exhibition in Lahore reveals the way a painter is keen on churning out a predictable work, in a manner that turns into a method.

In this body of work, labelled 'Transparent Society', the pictorial components from his older work are repeated. One finds mud houses, vegetations, buffaloes, goats, old people, women, kids and cats occupying his watercolour paintings. All of these are arranged in compositions which are not much different, except in size or the number of figures from the earlier works or primarily from each other, because Masood is following a structure -- with buildings of same size and identical sections of trees on top of these structures in his paintings. Thus the works on exhibit have a definite pattern in terms of imagery and effects. These effects are created with transparent coats of the medium and placement of imagery (not dissimilar from his past paintings), so the women applying dung cakes on the wall appear as if they have been seen through a large glass, or cats drawn on top of each other -- all communicating a sense of movement.

The artist is not satisfied with this set of imagery as he includes a range of vivid -- rather gaudy -- colours in his compositions. Reds, yellows, oranges and greens are applied in the patch work tapestries, placed on the string beds. An identical colour sensibility is seen in the way trees are daubed in shocking pinks and prominent purples.

Along with these strong tones, figures drawn in the new works of Masood do not convince the audience of his command on human anatomy, because even if the artist was trying to simplify or stylise his imagery, it fails to have that impact.

On the other hand, it is felt that the works are prepared in a hurry -- probably for the sake of meeting the deadline for the exhibition -- and not much thought went into the 34 pieces on display.

This tendency, of repeating oneself, with minor alterations in older visuals, method and palette reflects the way an artist perceives and possesses his art practice.

The initial success of Khan was to do with the vibrancy of his hues and a new scheme of transcribing reality, but since the two elements happen to be just pictorial devices, these are not developed further or evolved on a conceptual level. In fact, this lack of artistic intelligence is the cause for the stagnant state of his aesthetic practice.

Masood A. Khan is not the only one amongst us who is happy with his quick fame and easy success -- repeating himself since many are adopting the same line. Some reach that stage early in their artistic careers and others arrive there after several years of professional struggle. But in both instances, it betrays their inability to pursue their artistic instinct on a conscious ground while continuing to invent new ideas and shape fresh imagery.