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row Ubaro, 530 kms from the southern port city of Karachi, forces her to relive her own nightmare. profile Clay
clan clicks Repository of
musical knowledge
Pakistan has reasons to be satisfied with the verdict issued by the Swiss expert on Baglihar Dam even if his ruling does not cater to the country's main demand By Muhammad Badar Alam Going by what Liaqat Jatoi,
federal minister for water and power, says, Pakistan has got 75 per cent of
what it had asked for on the construction of Baglihar Dam. After a Swiss
arbitrator Raymond Lafitte, on February 12, 2007, released his verdict on the
controversial dam being built on the Chenab river in the Doda district of
Indian-administered Kashmir, the minister claimed victory for Pakistan. He
said the arbitrator, appointed in 2005 by the World Bank on Pakistan's
request, had accepted three of the four objections Pakistan had raised
against the construction of the dam. What he failed to mention was that it was the fourth objection that mattered the most as far as Pakistan's worries about India's ability to control the waters of the Chenab were concerned. Professor Lafitte, while telling India to reduce the height of the dam and curtail the capacity of its reservoir, has upheld India's right to build a gated spillway on the Chenab. Though he has termed the design of the gates incorrect, the fact that India can now build a gated structure on a river whose waters exclusively belong to Pakistan under the Indus Waters Treaty leaves Pakistan's main problem unaddressed. Pakistan, in fact, started its decade-long battle on Baglihar on the premise that India was not allowed under the treaty to build any structure that could regulate the flow of the river, as a gated spillway allowed by the Swiss expert will surely do. It's not, therefore, without reason that Liaqat Jatoi was quick to mention that Pakistan had the right to go into appeal against this part of the decision. Indications are that it
will. Of course, Professor Lafitte's verdict does not mean that India has got
the right to use the Chenab's water for purposes other than electricity
generation. The changes he has suggested in the design of the dam are
ostensibly aimed at preventing the Indian side from using the dam for
irrigation or controlling the waters to an extent where it can release or
stop them on will to the detriment of agriculture in Pakistan. If the changes
in the design can guarantee that these two things don't take place, Pakistan
in fact need not panic and accept the verdict without considering to appeal
against it. Two things can make that happen: First, Pakistan needs to know the impact of the changes and, second, the element of mistrust that governs every part of bilateral relations between India and Pakistan must end. While there can be room for Pakistan to be allowed to put the proposed changes to test and see if they ensure its rights over the river's waters, there exists little optimism that mutual mistrust will decrease, if not end altogether, any time soon. Even on this testing, time is fast running out. India claims that the changes in the design suggested by the Swiss expert are minor and will neither impact the quantity of the power to be generated through the dam nor will they adversely impact the speed of work on it. If all goes as India likes it to, the dam is scheduled to start producing 450 megawatts of electricity from Baglihar Dam by the end of this year. Pakistan, in effect, only has a few months if it wants to test the impact of the changes in the design. But, as the proof of the pudding lies in its eating not in its making, the working of the dam itself should show after its completion - in accordance with the changes - whether it hurts Pakistan's cause. So, even if no study can be carried out to judge the impact of the changes, all will not be lost for Pakistan: Only the dam will have to behave as Professor Lafitte predicts it should after the changes he has suggested. If that does not happen, Pakistan will have to live with the dam even if its worst fears about the structure prove true. This should be no reason for being despondent, though. The dispute over Baglihar Dam has already shown that both India and Pakistan can behave responsibly and try to resolve their disputes through peaceful means. It's heartening to note that Baglihar never got entangled with the dispute over Kashmir - where it is located - as did conflict over Siachen, another part of the disputed region. Even when an insurgency was raging in most parts of the Indian-administered Kashmir, Pakistan and India never chose to link their differences over the dam with the resolution of the Kashmir issue. This is apparent from the composite dialogue which allows the parleys on the disputed dam to take place without the condition of simulataneous and equal progress on other issues outstanding between the two countries. This may have to do with the fact that the Indus Waters Treaty allows the World Bank to be the third party to set all disputes between India and Pakistan on the waters of the rivers falling under the ambit of the 1960 treaty. The presence of an external player with the authority to monitor the implementation of the treaty and mediate or adjudicate on any differences over it may have given the two countries sufficient ground to keep their cool: They must have calculated that even if worse came to worst, the third party would not allow either India or Pakistan to interpret the treaty as they chose, according to their respective perspectives. This should be valid even after the dam is constructed. If Pakistan can produce irrefutable evidence that India is using the dam not in accordance with the provisions of the treaty, the third party should not be difficult to move. Dam or no, India cannot control the Chenab's waters as it likes unless it opts out of the Indus Waters Treaty - something that has not happened even when ties between India and Pakistan were at their lowest. Another reason for optimism is the current state of their bilateral relations. The dialogue on all the outstanding issues and confidence building measures are going ahead apace and both sides are showing remarkable restraint in conducting themselves on everything that divides them. Their reaction to Professor Lafitte's verdict shows just that. While claiming victory, each side has avoided aggressive statements aimed at proving the other side wrong. In a positive atmosphere like this, any bilateral treaties that exist between the two countries should make their presence felt in their observance rather than breach. If and when this atmosphere comes to final fruition in the form of a lasting peace, the two sides may not need to content themselves by declaring partial and pyrrhic victories.
profile Shahid Jalal on how he became an artist, and his latest work By Alefia T. Hussain At age 13 Shahid Jalal saw
his first dream as a painter. While attending art classes at Lahore's Alhamra
he made a few paintings, which got a raving review in the Pakistan Times.
"I remember Zara David did an art review of the amateur show and wrote
about me: 'Here is a future painter'," says Jalal. He thought of becoming a painter; sadly only for a moment "because Manto was my khaloo (uncle) and having one artiste in the family was enough". Disheartened with his painter prospects, he buried a passion for painting somewhere deep in his heart, lost and forgotten in memory for the longest of time -- and he moved on. He vowed to become a doctor -- "In those days one did not think beyond engineering and medicine," recollects Jalal. But he failed to get admission in Lahore's prestigious medical college King Edward. He opted for the Gordon College. Shahid Jalal was born in 1948 in Lahore into a cultured family -- to Zakia, who became friends with film star Nargis in her Bombay days, and Hamid Jalal, a government servant and a writer. "One of the best translations of Manto's short stories is by my father," states Shahid Jalal. And his sister is the eminent historian and writer Ayesha Jalal. This coupled with his deep-rooted connections with Saadat Hasan Manto: uncle and later his father in law. To add to this was the experience of spending a large chunk of adolescence in the company of creative personalities of Lakshmi Building. "It was the Chelsea of Lahore. No less than twenty persons living in the neighbourhood went on to shine." Perhaps it's not surprising Shahid's parents felt taxed. In an attempt to ensure their young son got education to make a bright career, they sent him to London. "I joined the Jewish accountancy firm Rothmanby & Company on a family friend's recommendation and laboured for the next five years," he remembers. In retrospect, those years were not tough. "I was earning a substantial sum that tripled as soon as I qualified as a chartered accountant." To most people being a CA would be a fine achievement. But Jalal was not most people. He plunged into self-doubt soon after qualifying. "For the lack of any option I did CA and also qualified but I knew this was not for me and I would turn my back to it at some stage in life," he says. Yet, he pursued the profession, neither his heart nor his hidden creativity in it, till age 28 when he went into psycho analysis -- "to understand why I was so unhappy being a chartered accountant," he says. That redirected him. After talking endlessly with the analyst he was able to extricate the memory that at age 13 he had aspired to be a painter. Now there was fire inside him. At age 28, he gave up his job at Attock Oil (stationed in London), and returned to Lahore to join NCA for a year. "Among the artists who interviewed me were Khalid Iqbal and Colin David. They were thoroughly amused and at the same time skeptical about this man who was 10 years over the admission age," Jalal recalls enthusiastically. Undoubtedly, this was the "most fantastic year I have ever spent in my life. I was hyped up, so happy doing what I was meant to do". He would work from 8.00 am to 2.30 pm at the college and then attend the evening classed at Lahore Arts Council -- "to really immerse myself in art," he adds. During the days at NCA Shahid Jalal did not restrict himself to the first year course. He recalls: "once a second year class was leaving for a landscape lesson and I asked Khalid (Iqbal) Sahib if I could accompany. He did not refuse. I made a small painting, a very bad one in my view but he said: 'You have a natural inclination towards landscape.'" Khalid Iqbal became Jalal's guru. "For a long time he did not allow me to see his landscapes, so I could develop my own vision and not be influenced by his style. I saw his work for the first time in Taufiq Rafat's house. Instantly I understood why he had kept his paintings hidden from me. His work is quiet and understated unlike mine which is dramatic. I'm impatient and sloppy with paint, he's meticulous." As a mentor, Jalal says, "Khalid Sahib's style was to direct not coerce. And only to his credit I will not exhibit till he has critiqued my artwork. I value his unbiased judgment. There are other painters I admire but do not trust their judgment." Jalal is very proud of his Khalid Iqbal collection comprising about eight landscapes. "I have spent a fortune on his work only to keep them as constant reminders of the standards I have to meet in my career as a landscapist. If I am able to imbibe 50 per cent of his qualities I'll be happy as a painter." But Shahid Jalal's days at NCA did not continue as planned. He was there for a year, before being forced to leave for poor health reasons. Once in good health, and desperately in need for bread and butter, he reverted back to his earlier profession of accountancy -- a full time job at Packages Limited found a weekend painter in him. During this period Jalal dabbled in series of compositions (stones for instance), human figures in watercolour and other challenging works. However, landscapes always gave him a level of comfort -- because "I get out of the house, away from the maddening crowd," he says. But, he admits that the art works created on weekends were weak. Clearly he knew in his heart that he was meant to be a full time painter and not an executive at a corporate company (by now he was the finance man at Tetra Pak). Jalal made a choice and took a complete turn. At age 51, he requested early retirement to devote himself to art (and social work). In 1994 he received the Pride of Performance award. He painted the planes of Punjab and of late the picturesque images of Lahore's Lawrence Garden in oil and paint. "The last five years I hid some of my best works in a small room in my house," he says, to collect 40 canvases, presently on show at Ejaz Galleries in Lahore. "Compared to my earlier work, the new collection is far more detailed and thorough." He believes that it is always one painting that marks a show. And his pick of the series on show is 'Cockscombs'. The ongoing exhibition, surely his most valuable collection, depicts shrines, havelis and often eerie vast fields of Punjab; gardens and trees in light and shade that depict more life and presence than humans and animals that naturally inhabit the countryside. "Every tree has a personality that breeds through in art works. The brilliant painter in Khalid Sahib captures beautifully a tree's spirit." So is it lack of interest in human life or inability to paint figures? "My earlier work depicts human characters, usually my family women. They were greatly appreciated... perhaps it's because of the age factor that I view human presence as intrusion in my life which is also reflected in my work," he explains. "I'm happiest painting on my own." Jalal's new works do not tell a story. They are mere scenes with emphasis on the aesthetic value. "People think abstract work is more intellectual. In my opinion equal amount of thought goes into a realistic painting," he declares, adding "It's interesting to create drama from the Punjab scenes. I firmly believe that if a painter is not enamoured by the beauty of the countryside (or for that matter a female model) he ends up painting a beauty. In fact pretty paintings are incidental." Among the Pakistani landscapists, he admires Khalid Iqbal and Ijazul Hasan. After them, he regrets, the future of plein air painters is bleak. He maintains the city is expanding too fast and vistas worth capturing on canvas are shrinking. "Though the future for cityscape painters is bright." To sum up, Shahid Jalal's show is fascinating yet frustrating, for the sky high price tags attached -- with the plushness of the gallery the value increases to thousands and hundred thousands. "Paintings that I like best are most expensive. I want art lovers to pay the price for what I like." And he has no qualms about it.
Utilizing the elements of tradition to create art of the new in a convincing and poetic manner By Quddus Mirza At first sight the plastic buckets and large bowls placed
inside the Alhamra Art Gallery looked like part of the exhibition 'Clay Clan
I' (held from 7th to 16th February 2007 at Alhamra), but in reality these
were put to gather the rain water that dripped from different portions of the
ceiling. These utilitarian utensils had a connection and were also in
contrast to the ceramic pieces displayed in the exhibition that was curated
by Kaif Ghaznavi. Actually the relationship between the exhibits and the objects used for a specific purpose was accidental, but majority of the works in this exhibition dealt with the difference between life and art. Though not addressed directly, but this issue was invoked through the choice of imagery and material in some of the works -- like the installation by Kaif Ghaznavi and Ghania Badr. Similarly in some other works, such as the installation by Munawar Ali and ceramics of Raania Azam, some of the concerns of our age were handled in a more obvious manner. The separation or association of life and art was apparent in the work of Ghania Badr. She displayed an actual table with an ordinary tablecloth, along with ceramic jars, plates and bottle (made by her). In this work, the jars contained clay tongues, ears and fingers, and the plate was filled with a ceramic bird. These pieces were composed like the normal arrangement for dinner in any house, but through this piece, the artist altered the existing link between the user and the used objects. For instance the fingers and tongues, which are essential to taste food, were turned into items of food in her work. Similarly the bird on a dish signified the usual menu in most houses, where people while taking a bite of some meat dish forget the existence of fowl they are consuming. The relationship between life and its manifestation in
art was visible in Kaif's work too. Her work comprised of a vessel-like form
filled with artificial flowers, next to a wall on which garments for men and
women were hung side by side. In this installation, with its minimal presence
of a ceramic piece, the artist commented on the intricacies of love, through
the overtly employed symbols of red roses and worn clothes. Due to its
simplicity of approach and clarity of elements, this installation was the
most impressive part of the exhibition. However in some other works from the show, one became aware of a recurring problem with a number of artists, both professional ceramicists and practising artists. This was the fascination with excess, visible in the works of Anita Akram, Mahera Nawaz, Raania Azam and Munawar Ali. Majority of them displayed works, which, instead of imparting a strong idea or image, reflected the ambitiousness of the makers. For example Anita in her installation assembled round forms of fired clay, wooden structure and dried leaves, yet the final piece did not have much impact as an image. Similarly Raania's multiple pieces, which depicted building like shapes, with openings on the sides and actual grass planted on top of these structures, failed to leave a lasting impression on the viewers. Likewise, the ceramic pieces by Mahera, which were inspired by the form of a baby's pacifier, were displayed in a great number and in addition to that a lot of other, small pieces were placed on cotton wool that ran like a track on the floor, connecting various pedestals with large scale pacifiers. All of these revealed certain thinking of our artists and general public: That a statement, no matter what, has to be a grand declaration. Something which can impress the audience, not with its meaning or message or beauty, but on the greatness of its execution. This frame of mind is evident in our everyday life, in which one notices flamboyant expressions, often devoid of real substance. This is also apparent in normal discussions, in which merely the high note of the voice is considered convincing to prove the authenticity of one's argument, and the use of flowery language is regarded enough to believe in the profundity of the discourse. This attitude, at its best was visible in Munawar Ali's installation, fabricated with ceramic pieces, gravel, digital print and sculptures. In this large scale work, a number of egg-like forms were scattered on the gravel, placed in a round form with the printout of a man underneath the tiny pieces of stone. The installation depicted the present social and political situation of our world, which is in the grip of fear for humanity, and terrorism of different kinds. Yet the work, with its excessive aesthetics appeared closer to a cliche statement. Despite this, it was interesting to see the ceramic exhibition showcased work which extended the idea of ceramics, especially studio ceramics. Even if some participants did not impress much with their works, still their attempt to broaden the horizon of this genre was an important step towards legitimizing ceramics as an independent art and creative form. In this respect, the work of Ghaffar Ghauri, constructed with fired clay and light bulbs, offered an unusual sight. The odd mixture of pottery and bulbs was an indication of the urge to move away from the norm and experiment. Yet another work in the exhibition demonstrated that a course different from excessive display of forms could be more effective to communicate newness in the tradition of pottery. Sadia Saleem, in her installation of 49 bowls, offered a simple solution to the division of tradition and modernity. Her pieces were made as conventional utensils, but the different angle for the base of each piece placed it in a tilted position. The insides of these pots were sparsely tinted with elementary colours, except the central bowl filled with strong red glaze. This installation, composed of apparently conventional elements signified that our artists can utilize the elements of tradition, and transform these to create art of the new in a convincing and poetic manner -- a process that was much appreciated and practiced by the master ceramist of our time, Salahuddin Mian! Repository of musical knowledge Prem Sangeet Presented by SM Shahid Published 1985 -- Second edition 2006. Price Rs.350 By Sarwat Ali For sometime the most authoritative work in reference to music in Urdu has been Maraful Naghmaat by Thakur Nawab Ali Khan written about a hundred years ago but from time to time others nayaks, pandits, gandharbs and gunnies have also written on music basically with the expressed purpose of unravelling the intricacies of classical music. Prem Sangeet, a compilation of asthais and antaras by Ustad Wilayat Ali Khan has been written with the intention of passing on musical knowledge to those willing to learn. Ustad Wilayat Ali Khan was born in Agra where he received his musical training from his father Ustad Maqsood Ali Khan and grandfather Ustad Siddiq Ali Khan. They were related to Bairam Khan Ambaitha and Bande Ali Khan Beenkar from Kirana. After partition the family migrated to the former East Pakistan where Wilayat Ali Khan taught classical music for more than twenty years. He was forced to move to Karachi due to the upheavals there in nineteen seventy one, and lived there teaching music till his death in two thousand and two. Thirty three bandishes have been written and notated in
raags like Malkauns, Chandakauns, Bilaskhani Tori, Gunkali, Nat bhairon, Ahir
Bhairon, Lalit, Behag, Madhkauns, Main ki Malhaar, Shibh Rangini, Naiki Kanra,
Bhimplasi, Megh Malhar, Bageshri, Aimen, Bhopali, Hans Kalyan, Shankara,
Hameer,Kalawati, Darbari, Gujri Tori, Marva, Hans Dhun, Bahar, Joge,
Madhwanti and Abhogi. The asthais and antaras are also recorded in an
accompanying CD. Music traditionally had been a very closed door artistic activity. It concentrated on a personalized transfer of knowledge and was jealously guarded as a prized possession of a family. But with the change in attitude caused by the wholesale exposure to the West through the colonial encounter many of these time tested views underwent a sea change. It was accepted by the end of the nineteenth century that there was leverage for the teaching of music through some method that was not as highly personalized as the one that had been in vogue. So institutions were opened which taught music in a classroom like teaching of other subjects that was institutionalized through school, college and university education. The main personalities behind this change in the methodology of teaching and a different pedagogical approach were Bhathkhande and Vishni Digamber Paluskar. For this new methodology obviously text books were also required and a whole new approach was devised through the writing of books on music, more in the manner of text books where the essentials of the raags were mentioned along with some standard bandish of that particular raag. In the personalized transfer of musical knowledge the ustad or the guru was the repository of musical knowledge as he knew verbatim all the peculiarities of the raags, the finer aspects and whatever was essential to the musical requirements. It was inconceivable to separate the art from the person and the whole attitude and approach of the ustad shagird or guru shishya parampara was conditioned by this particular characteristic. The relationship obviously neither was limited to the transfer of musical knowledge nor was it limited to the classroom or only a segment of twenty four hours but was more in the style of bringing up a youngster. The entire value system had to be imbibed by the youngster; his entire personality was constructed and crafted not only as a musician. The most important aspect was that the student was ready to pick the pearls of wisdom that the ustad was to cast before him. He was educated enough to realize its worth and the immense responsibility that he was thus setting upon himself. The onus of learning was on the shagird and not really on the ustad as it had become in the impersonalized transfer of education and knowledge. In most cases the shagird had to leave his home and become part of the ustad household and family and was required to do what the other children of the family were expected to do like running errands and doing the chores as and when required by the master and the mistress of the house. The teaching was not an obligation on part of the ustad but was imparted as and when he pleased. This general method of education was perhaps more strictly applied in music because it existed only in time and had to be orally transmitted. It was not a matter of choice but necessity. In other fields too most of the knowledge was transferred from father to son, not in the form of classroom teaching but as discipleship. The society was structured thus with its class caste relationships. The stratification was determined by the profession and this societal pattern was generally followed without much disruption during the middle years in India -- the period of Muslim rule spreading over eight hundred years. The education too was divided into strata with no concept of universal education. When the impersonal approach took hold and the need was felt of consulting books, particularly text books on the subject of music, the first attempts made to write text books was followed by even shorter more precise works, more in the manner of the present day get through guides. Ustad Wilayat Ali Khan's asthais and antaras are not merely academic exercises but retain essentials of musicality. S.M. Shahid has been serving the cause of music for years. This volume can also be viewed as a tribute to his ustad Wilayat Ali Khan. S.M. Shahid has edited and compiled many books including ones on Noor Jehan, Mehdi Hasan, Tufail Niazi, Kamaldas Gupta, and written one on Film Songs based on raags and one on Classical Music.
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