karachicharacter
Twinkling little star
By Ayecha Ahmed
Uzma moved to Karachi over eight years ago, when her father decided that moving would help the family finances more than staying in Multan would. She is still a child herself; a mere 14 years old, but the job she has taken on is that of caring for another child. Though she quit school herself when she was still in Multan, the way she speaks and conducts herself is very cultured. Always having held jobs as a domestic helper, this time round Uzma seems to be developing a particular fondness for the baby she is helping taking care of.

They say, once an Arab hakim (physician) was resting under a tree when melodious notes emanating from a forest caught his attention. Upon searching he found that the sounds were produced when the gentle winds touched the dried-up hide of monkey stretched on the tree. Legend has it that the enthralled hakim fixed strings made of goat skin in to carved wood to replicate the melody. Thus was invented the instrument known as saurangi (hundred coloured) for its capability to convey a variety of notes and emotions.

 Some believe it was Abu Ali Sina or Abu Farabi who invented the sarangi while others argue that the idea for the instrument was derived from Indian mythology. Whatever the origin may be, there is no doubt that saurangi of yesteryears and the sarangi of today stands as an important icon of classical music in India, Nepal and Pakistan.

 Introduced in this part of world 200 years ago, the sarangi soon became popular among the elite of Indian society at the time. The masters of this art were highly cherished at the courts of nawabs and rajas and were rewarded with great respect and prizes for their performances. The melodiousness of the instrument and the fame it earned for it's masters motivated a lot of people to dedicate their lives to becoming sarangi masters. Ustad Akhtar Hussain, 52, is one of them.

 Born in Hyderabad Deccan to the Hushiarpur family that had excelled in sarangi playing for five generations, Ustad Akhtar started learning to play sarangi at the age of 11. He inherited love for the instrument from his grandfather Ustad Ghulam Muhammad Khan, aka baba ji who was one of the best sarangi players of his time. Ustad Ghulam was associated with the court of the Nawab of Hyderabad Deccan and was highly appreciated for his performances at concerts and private functions.

One such performance by baba ji on the death anniversary of Ustad Alamgir Khan in Lahore changed Ustad Akhtar's life. In his own words: "the elite of Lahore longed for just one autograph from baba ji. I was so impressed that I decided to be a sarangi master, just like him."

 Thereon started Ustad Akhtar's often grueling journey to learning the art of playing sarangi. While other boys his age indulged in frivolous pastimes, he tried to perfect his grip on the guz (bow) of the sarangi. "It took me two years just to learn how to perfectly bow the strings," Ustad Akhtar tells Kolachi.

 Compared to other bowed string instruments, the sarangi is the toughest to play. The instrument comprising of three strings initially has now at least 36 additional strings. It is when a master can produce a single chord on his sarangi in a single note that he is considered capable. This perfection alone takes practice of at least two years. Moreover, the bent fingers of other hand slide vertically on the strings and create a melancholic sound with the movement of nails, cuticles and surrounding flesh. "Playing the sarangi can actually be physically painful," Ustad Akhtar admits adding that during the initial years of training, his fingers would bleed during concerts. He continues that even after playing with strings for over three decades now, his fingers still bleed if he, "plays for seven continuous hours."

 Apart from blood, Akhtar Hussain gave away 12 years of his youth and secondary level education to get ustad prefixed before his name. During the training, he left from India to Faisalabad, Pakistan in 1964. However, unlike his grandfather performing in front of nawabs in India, Ustad Akhtar had to contend with a Sindhi audience alone in Pakistan. He worked as a contract employee at Khairpur Radio Station for over 22 years and provided background sarangi for a lot of folk dramas on radio.

 Besides working at the radio station, Ustad Akhtar performed at private gatherings, marriage ceremonies, cultural programs, concerts and sometimes during international concerts as well if he got the opportunity to.

The profession earned Ustad Akhtar trips to foreign countries, but not a lot in terms of money. Even after all these performances he couldn't make more than a few thousand rupees in a month. It was not until two years ago when he moved to Karachi and was employed by National Association of Performing Arts (NAPA) that he started getting a respectable income from this form of art.

 Yet, despite being well versed in playing harmonium and  singing khayal, ghazal and kaafi and himself admitting that "they are more profitable than playing sarangi," Ustad Akhtar sticks to his original profession. Regardless of income, he continues playing his nails over hard strings to generate music that can touch any audiences' souls. And he continues fading into the background of the stage where the singer receives applause for a performance that Ustad Akhtar helps make unique.

 It is said that the heart has it's reasons of which reason knows nothing, Ustad Akhtar knows all those reasons well. "I feel proud of being a sarangi master because I am continuing my forefather's legacy," Ustad Akhtar says. He adds that for him this form of art provides great satisfaction. "When I can relate myself to the expression of the tune I play," Ustad Akhtar says, "I gain satisfaction that is unimaginable."

 Critics argue that of all bowed string instruments, the sarangi is special as no instrument is as near to the human voice as the sarangi. Though for quite long the sarangi was played just for the sake of music, with the introduction of additional strings it has become an art that only the very talented are able to perform. Now the masters focus on and improvise particular raags of classical music that are able to influence the audience only when played by true masters. Since the instrument is believed to be best at expressing the sadness one experiences in love, if played by a true master the sarangi can make an audience feel the pain of a true lover. It doesn't just make the player bleed, It makes the listener weep as well.

If the master is skilled and truly feels what he is playing, the sarangi can do wonders. Ustad Akhtar is one such blessed master creating those wonders during his performances. "There are times when people have started dancing and crying during my performance," he says.

 There are a lot of ghazals and songs that Ustad Akhtar is perfect at playing, "I know about sixty songs by heart," he tells Kolachi, adding that to get this perfection he has to riaz (practice) at least six hours a day. 

 "70's were the golden period of sarangi in Karachi," Ustad Akhtar tells Kolachi. Today, he is the only living sarangi nawaz in Karachi.  Before him there were master sarangi nawazes of international repute in the city, such as Hamid Hussian Khan, Ghulam Muhiuddin Khan, Zahori Khan, Wajid Hussain Khan, Hussain Baksh, Maulvi Abdul Hameed and Nathoo Khan. The art gradually started to decline with the deaths of these masters. "As the young generation was not interested in learning this art," Ustad Akhtar continues, "these masters couldn't train students and their art died with them."

 It is ironic that the art of playing the sarangi was allowed to die with the masters, unlike in India where sarangi masters were facing a similar fate till few years ago. "When concerned people in India saw the art of sarangi dying," says Ustad Akhtar, "money was invested in it to preserve it."

Ustad Akhtar adds that a lot is being done in India to promote the sarangi. "They have set up separate academies to teach this art," Ustad Akhtar says, "and they offer scholarships to the children learning this art." Ustad Akhtar believes that scholarships are imperative in order to motivate younger people to learn this art because one has to sacrifice a large portion of one's life to become a skilled sarangi nawaz.

 Ustad Akhtar laments that over the years he could get only one student to share his knowledge with; his son!

Gul Muhammad, 13 years old, has been learning to play the sarangi from his father for a year now.

"A lot of students enroll in the vocal class, for tabla, guitar and violin lessons. Sadly no one comes to learn sarangi," Ustad Akhtar tells Kolachi.

There are a lot of reasons for this attitude. The first among them is the extent of time and effort needed to learn this art. "To become an able sarangi nawaz, one needs to invest at least 12 years into learning the art, unlike the guitar or sitar, which require only two years to learn," says Ustad Akhtar.

Add to this the fact, Ustad Akhtar points out, that the sarangi has never been promoted as a particularly glamourous instrument to play; music students would rather not spend long years learning to play the instrument, to end up "earning nothing."

For an musician, holding concerts is a major source of earning. Ironically, only one or two concerts of classical music are held in Karachi annually. Ustad Akhtar says that Indian artists earn a fortune through frequent concerts held in their country.

"If sarangi players can earn up to 15 00 000 rupees through concerts in a year," says Ustad Akhtar, " then why would musicians not opt for sarangi playing as a profession?" Ustad Akhtar believes that frequent classical and semi-classical concerts in the city may help revive the art.

 Other than external issues, Ustad Akhtar admits to the limitations of the instrument as well. He welcomes efforts to revive classical instruments by amalgamating them with modern music. "I have myself played along with English tunes. They are fast-paced, but I will soon learn to keep up with them," Ustad Akhtar says. Despite accepting innovations he is still training his son to be a master sarangi nawaz so that he can keep his forefathers' legacy alive.

 Ustad Akhtar Hussain plays the sarangi which originally belonged to his grandfather and is 60 years old. "I feel like a knight when I play it," he says - and he truly is. The last knight gu1arding a hundred colours in the city of blinding lights.

Theatre and the performing arts have always been a tool of expression to narrate stories or send across a message around the world. In Pakistan too, theatre has been often used as a medium to convey messages and raise awareness about various issues, though the practice focused big-city audiences for the most part.

A large number of people from different walks of life attended the theatre festival held in Hyderabad recently. After six interactive theatre festivals in different parts of the country, the seventh theatre festival took place in the Mumtaz Mirza Auditorium in Hyderabad. The performances centered on environment and bonded labour issues. Despite the fact that the city has been a hub of cultural activities, meaningful theatre has been the one thing missing from the scene for a while. However, this theatre festival not only re-sparked performance with a purpose, but also allowed the audience to interact with performers, giving their solutions to the various problems presented.

The festivals were organized earlier in Lahore, Islamabad, Multan and Mirpurkhas. The Lahore based Interactive Resource Center organizes these events. This year the event was organized at Hyderabad, targeting a rural audience.

Bonded labour has been an issue of importance to the agricultural sector in Sindh. Environmental issues were focused on to raise awareness about the growing threat of global warming around the world.

Six theatre groups from Sindh and Punjab participated in the two day festival which attracted a lot of people despite the hot weather. Of these theatre groups, Channan Theatre Group (Lahore), Murk Theatre Group (Hyderabad) and Sujag Sansar Theatre Group from Dadu performed on environment issues while Multan Theatre Group, Green Theatre Group (Hyderabad) and Parbhat Theatre Group of Mirpurkhas effectively addressed the bonded labour issue in their performances.

The groups addressed specific problems in their plays. On the first day of the festival, three plays were performed on the issue of Manchar Lake, where fishermen are losing their livelihood because of contaminated water. This is also creating problems for citizens of other areas as this water is mixed with river water to avoid breach in the lake.

The second play was about clean drinking water and role of local bodies in this respect and the third was about the Kacho area in Dadu, where deforestation is at its peak, negatively impacting the lives of communities dependent on forests.

On the second day, bonded labour related issues were focused on. The first play was about the brick kiln workers of Punjab who are still being exploited in the name of advance payments or loans. The second dealt with the issue of internal trafficking in bonded labour while third play discussed the situation of freed peasant camps and problems and difficulties labourers face in these camps.

"We introduce the interactive form of theatre in different areas of the country," Mohammed Waseem, Executive Director of IRC tells Kolachi, "and go to the rural areas as well; we are performing theatre in 13 national languages, including Sindhi."

IRC is a non-profit organization that has been active since 2000 and strives to build consciousness among marginalized sections of society regarding their basic rights. The organization is employing interactive communication techniques for social change.

Waseem says that the performances are aimed at initiating debates. "They pave the way for dialogue for resolution of issues," he says and adds, "this can achieve the purpose of highlighting issues, while the real solution purely depends on the political will of the leadership."

Waseem feels the performances have had a positive impact so far. "The practice has been successful as far raising awareness about issues is concerned," he says, "this is evident from the fact that the government itself staged performances for creating awareness about tuberculosis."

"Performance is a viable methodology that spreads the real message very effectively and quickly," Waseem says.

Street theatre is being used more and more to raise awareness at the grass root level and usually the message hits home with the people whose life is depicted in the plays, especially in remote areas such as those in Sindh.

Fayaz, who is associated with Channan Theatre Group tells Kolachi,  "We usually end our performance at a negative note, so the audience can counter it with positive solutions, in interactive theatre, everyone is a performer."

The dresses worn by performers as well as the folk music played during plays also helped in holding the audience rapt.

"We have performed on the issue of Manchar Lake where life is becoming extremely difficult for locals," Kazbano Asif tells Kolachi.

Her group is called Murk Theatre Group, a Dadu based group, which has been performing for a decade in different parts of the country now.

She feels that it doesn't take long for theatre to gain attention and common people as well as the authorities have started taking notice of the points raised in performances which speeds up the process of solving problems.

"Accurately depicting reality is what we call theatre," says Kazbano, "and if performed at the right place, the reaction we get is heartening."

Such activities should be organized on a regular basis to continue raising awareness among people and enable them to recognize injustices. Theatre performances should now be taken towards taluka level to guide communities to make needed changes themselves.

Syed Athar Jahnian, a member of Multan Theater Group sharing his opinion, told Kolachi that people always give feedback to their performances and certain changes are already visible as a result of the points highlighted during performances.

"People get ideas through these performances and go back to their homes with a message," says Athar, "the message is nothing but fighting social issues."

The seventh interactive theatre festival ended on a note of hope: that no matter how dire the situation, it is possible to change it. If all key issues are highlighted, those who are in power can take action to resolve them, but being aware of the issues and knowing that change is possible is key too.

The o's in Google sprouted graphical flowers on March 20, heralding the day as the first of spring. Having spent my childhood in Islamabad, and the latter years in Karachi, my thoughts always turn to spring in the capital in March. Images of the whole city glowing green with new grass and leaves and the Margallas blazing a bright emerald around the city are definitely more pleasant than the oppressive March heat and smog in Karachi.

Despite living in and loving Karachi deeply for over a decade now, there are still things I miss about my old city, which I had ached for during my initial days here. Strikes were unheard of in Islamabad, as was school being shut down for a week because of 'expected violence'. Traffic was organized and things were, for lack of a better word, safe.

But over the last one year or so, Karachi and Islamabad have stood shoulder to shoulder in the kind of tragic incidents bearing intense losses in both cities. The loss of human lives, upheaval in day to day lives and damage to public property is not something one will relate just to Karachi now, Islamabad is seeing its fair share of misdirected anger being vented at it.

Late last Saturday evening, the area around Super Market in Islamabad was bombed. Not very surprising, as bombings have become quite common all over Pakistan in the last few months, but this one hurt. Thoughts of people I know who live in the area or have worked in the market for decades clogged my mind. To lose even a single one of them, even the people I don't know, to something so senseless would haunt me for life, as it probably would every sane Pakistani.

But there are fears lurking closer to home as well. Bomb threats have been reported in various schools all over Karachi in the last one week. The most despicable of these are the threats made to Montessori schools.

True, the threats made at O' and A' level schools come with their own set of repercussions; mid-March is when students are seriously gearing towards their board exams and revision at schools before mocks is at an all-time high. When bomb threats force students and teachers to evacuate school premises immediately and perhaps stay off campus for a day or too, ultimately it is the students who will suffer by losing out on important pre-exam studies and wrapping up of syllabus.

On March 18, a bomb was actually discovered on the premises of a school in Clifton, the very next day, an A' level school had a bomb drill right after a bomb threat. A married friend tells me of her 2-year-old daughter's school receiving a bomb threat as well.

The only question that comes to mind is, how are children who have just learnt to walk and talk, responsible for any of the grievances that the bombers supposedly have? Or for that matter, the teenagers in senior schools? These are the people who will inherit and manage Pakistan in the future and deserve a fair chance at life.

And by fair chance, one just doesn't mean being allowed to live; but the kind of childhoods we have had. When it was okay to play cricket with other kids after the evening cartoons and before Maghrib. Or hating going to school every morning because you loathed waking up at ungodly hours to get dressed, have breakfast and catch the school van or be dropped to school by your parents. School could be painful because of boring teachers or tight cliques that excluded or angled you. Now parents shudder at the thought of their children going out at any time, before or after Maghrib and mean girls and sleep-inducing classes are the least of anybody's worries.

The whole of Pakistan is gripped by the same fears right now. The bridge to democratic rule has been crossed, but so many other obstacles have cropped up in this course, that sometimes its hard to look past them.

But it is spring and things are blooming all around, on and off the Google homepage. I can still imagine Islamabad smelling of dewy grass and I see mornings in Karachi dawn bright, crisp and breezy. And so what if we don't have a lot of space in Karachi to grow flowers? Some kind person has placed baskets of flowers all along the Jehangir Kothari Parade wall and the roundabout in the area. I still see people all over the country being afraid, but not letting their fear paralyze them. Spring is making it's presence felt all over the country and if there are a thousand things going wrong, there are still a million things to look forward to.

Uzma moved to Karachi over eight years ago, when her father decided that moving would help the family finances more than staying in Multan would. She is still a child herself; a mere 14 years old, but the job she has taken on is that of caring for another child. Though she quit school herself when she was still in Multan, the way she speaks and conducts herself is very cultured. Always having held jobs as a domestic helper, this time round Uzma seems to be developing a particular fondness for the baby she is helping taking care of.

Kolachi: What kind of things do you have to do for your job?

Uzma: I do all the little things the baby's mother needs assistance with. I sterilize his bottles, wash and iron his clothes, fix his cupboard once a week, stuff like that. The baby is now being fed solids so I boil his food for him.

Kolachi: Don't you get bored doing such routine chores? Do you get any fun time with the baby?

Uzma: I do play with him, I sing 'twinkle twinkle, little star', for him. And he has toys that we play with too.

Kolachi: what did you do before you started working here?

Uzma: I worked for other families, doing very basic things, like cleaning, dusting, washing dishes etc. For one job I had to live with the family and the other was a day job, as is my current one.

Kolachi: Where do you live?

Uzma: I live on Gizri.

Kolachi: How many members are there in your family?

Uzma: I have an elder brother and two elder twin sisters and my parents.

Kolachi: How do you get by?

Uzma: Everyone in my house works. One of my sisters is a babysitter while the other did that earlier but didn't like it too much, she cleans houses now. My father is a cleaner too and my mother stitches clothes to make money.

Kolachi: How about your brother?

Uzma: He is married and doesn't live with us.

Kolachi: What do you do when you have free time?

Uzma: Spend time with my family, but that's just on the weekends. We split the housework between us three sisters for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

Kolachi: How about when you go out?

Uzma: We don't go out much, maybe to the beach in Clifton on a Sunday, with the rest of my family.

Kolachi: Is there anything you particularly like about Karachi?

Uzma: I don't really go out too much. Just to work and back…so I don't think there is anything I can say I like or dislike about Karachi.

Kolachi: Do you miss Multan?

Uzma: Not particularly.

Kolachi: Is there anything that you think you would rather be doing?

Uzma: I really, really wish I could go to school.

Kolachi: Why did you leave school in the first place?

Uzma: The teachers in Multan weren't nice nor were the girls in my school. They would do weird things like steal stuff and put it in others girls' bags. Then the teachers would yell at us and hit us, I hated that so left school, though my father wanted me to go.

Uzma does like playing with her little cousin when she goes home. She says that when the baby she looks after goes away she misses him too. But being a child herself, she can't help but wish sometimes that she could live her life differently. The only reason she won't go back to school is fear of unfair teachers and intimidating classmates. Living in Karachi, perhaps she will find a way to make her money and get an education, as helping people multi-task, when they need to, such is Karachi's character.