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Bulleh Shah in love The Urs of Bulleh Shah in Kasur saw a night of Kafi singing and a street play, which had the audience comprising townspeople and common villagers in thrall By Irfan Aslam One of the reasons for the undying popularity of theatre as an art form is its immediate appeal to its audiences. And, it reaches out to its audiences even more freely when performed out in the open — bereft of any stage or proscenium structure — fashionably called Street Theatre. Such a play was performed in Kasur recently by a Lahore-based private group Fareed Rang, under the aegis of Idara Fikr-o-Adab, a local organisation, as part of the three-day Urs of Baba Bulleh Shah. A clearer connection MOOD
STREET Town
Talk trend Park
as you go Of
lowest denomination
festival Bulleh Shah in love The Urs of Bulleh Shah in Kasur saw a night of Kafi singing and a street play, which had the audience comprising townspeople and common villagers in thrall By Irfan Aslam One of the reasons for the undying popularity of theatre as an art form is its immediate appeal to its audiences. And, it reaches out to its audiences even more freely when performed out in the open — bereft of any stage or proscenium structure — fashionably called Street Theatre. Such a play was performed in Kasur recently by a Lahore-based private group Fareed Rang, under the aegis of Idara Fikr-o-Adab, a local organisation, as part of the three-day Urs of Baba Bulleh Shah. Titled Ranjha Jogeeda
Bun Aaya, the play was helmed by renowned director Huma Safdar and
involved amateur actors, mostly university students. It was performed in
the organisation’s courtyard, called ‘Sanjha Vehda.’ The audiences,
ranging from the small children to the very old men and women, sat around
on the ground, with the performers facing them. The performers, just an arms’ length away from the audience, made it a very intimate event. There were even people taking a sneak peek from the rooftops of their houses nearby. All told, the title of the play is taken from one of the lines of a Kafi by Bulleh Shah which was based on Heer Waris Shah, another classical Punjabi poet. The dialogues are also culled from the same source and tell the legend of Heer and Ranja. It was a pleasant surprise to see the audience connecting with dialogues and lines of Waris Shah. They cheered the actors at any given dramatic dialogue, appreciating not only the actors but also the verses. An old man (from among the audience) was seen humming the lines along, which showed how parts of the epic poem were built in the memory of the village folks over the centuries. Even the peculiar Punjabi diction of Waris Shah did not seem to hamper their understanding of the dialogues or the verses. Ranjha Jogeeda Bun Aaya opens with the maiden encounter between Heer and Ranjha when the former wakes up her lover; it ends with Ranjha reclaiming Heer as she is forced into a marriage against her will. All the important stages of the legend, including Heer’s stand-off with her father, her marriage with Saida Khaida and Ranjha becoming a ‘jogi’ were covered deftly in the play, credit for which ought to be given to director Huma Safdar. The lead performers Sana Jafri and Nabeel Shahid were a treat to watch. Sana, especially, deserves a mention for the way she had the audience in thrall with her powerful performance. A recent graduate from Lahore Grammar School (LGS), Paragon, Sana turned out to be the centre of attraction, not just for her looks but also for her acting and dance skills. Someone from the audience even commented that she made a beautiful Heer, not quite seen before in cinema or theatre. Not to take any credit away from Nabeel Shahid and Faheem Muzaffar who fit into the roles of Ranjha and Jogi flawlessly. A mention is due also to the Kafi singing, which accompanied every important development in the plot. Rendered by Ashi, Zara and Shafqat along flute and tabla, the Kafi provided a strong background score that heightened the effect of the play. The overwhelming response of the audience, consisting also of townspeople who had come all the way from Lahore and other metropolises, proved once and for all that theatre is a more effective way to narrate stories and communicate ideas to all and sundry. This is in keeping with the tradition of ‘Natak’ which has been played in the rural areas of Punjab for centuries. Quite appropriately, the play was followed by a musical session in which the Kafis of Bulleh Shah were rendered by Ashi, Zara and Shafqat, all of them being associated with a Punjabi language organization, named Sangat. Ashi is no stranger to listeners of Punjabi Sufi poetry. She has created her own little niche in Kafi singing. On the occasion, she sang Bulleh Shah’s ‘Hik nuktay wich gal mukdi aey’, ‘Aao fakiro mailay chalye’ and ‘Ab hum gum huay prem nagar kay shehr.’ The last one got her the most applause. Later, an anthology of Bulleh Shah’s Kafis were also distributed among the audience. The night ended with a discussion on Bulleh Shah’s ideology and had Punjabi poets Zubair Ahmed and Afzal Sahir among others as participants.
Spiritually elevating scenes at the Urs of Bulleh Shah Last week, Bulleh Shah’s Urs was held at his mausoleum in Kasur. The three-day event, held from August 23 through 25, drew the devotees from all over Punjab. The scenes at the historic city were beyond description. As you cross the boundary wall of the shrine, the diversity among the devotees was for all to see. One coud see a dervish dancing in trance, all by himself and with no one near or around him. There was an old man beating the dholak, and a random woman visitor from the upper stratum of society letting her hair down in ‘dhamaal’, as a qawwali played on in the background. It called to mind Bulleh Shah’s famous Kafi ‘Tere ishq nachaya kar thhayyah thhayya.’ An apparently orthodox ‘maulvi’ was also seen sporting a green coloured turban and giving a sermon on how to achieve piety. In other words, people from different segments of society were to be found here. I was reminded of another Kafi by Bulleh Shah, ‘Maula aadmi bun aaya.’ There was the clanking of ‘ghungroos’ (bracelets made of chains and worn by dancers) coming from a side. It coincided with the Kafi singing as well as the chanting of Naat — all in the same ambience.
The shrine itself is a rather small building but the grave appeared to me to be the humblest and the most easily approachable, just like his poetry, with the devotees kissing it out of sheer reverence. In the compound along the shrine, there were groups of people who looked as if they were the ‘gadi nasheen’ (or custodians) of some shrine and were there to pay homage to Bulleh Shah. Some of them even refused to be photographed. Yet there were many who were accepting money/alms from the visitors. Around the shrine, there were graves of other notables — nawabs and politicians of the city. It is said that when Bulleh Shah rejected the religious orthodoxy and propagated love for humanity, irrespective of religion or creed, the same notables (from the 18th century Kasur) maligned him and tagged him as a heathen with the connivance of the mullahs of the time. Their graves, now lying unattended, showed to me that they had lost the battle and Bulleh had won because he was on the side of love for all. The graveyard outside the boundary wall of the shrine is home to centuries-old but strange-looking trees where the dervishes and malangs, both men and women, have taken a temporary abode. They were seen preparing and smoking hash, absolutely unmindful of the world around them. I saw a couple of visitors going to them and requesting them for prayers or to help their wishes to be granted. Some malangs were chanting ‘bait’ from Mian Muhammad Bakhsh’s Saiful Malook, while some were singing the ‘kalam’ of Sultan Bahu. Yet a few others were humming a Punjabi song by Noor Jehan. Perhaps, the largest gathering was at Bazm-e-Waris Shah where Heer was being sung. One could find a clearer connection with the classic Punjabi poets here. — Irfan Aslam
The savoury escapades By Ammara Ahmad Many years ago, we ordered Pani Puri in Delhi’s Bengali Market. I felt that the savoury green liquid had something missing. And, there was a spicy little blast from the past. The only thing that made my school memories exceptional was the street hawkers. I have never tasted that kind of tamarind, juices, crackers, sweet potato and chana masala (peppery chickpeas) again. My mother used to give me ten rupees in the morning for a Coke or a Mirinda. She didn’t know of my day-end escapades. The van uncle used to wait for us at the gate. Some of my lazy van mates were slow and this gave us time for some culinary adventures. Most of my age fellows stuck to Polka ice cream or a cob of corn with a decent amount of seasoning on top. But a friend and I identified that those were the legitimate delights we could even receive at our home. We were tamarind and spicy chickpeas fans. The girl’s name was
Itba and she was senior to me by two years, though she had already failed
a couple of times. I don’t think there is a relation between her
academics and dietary choices. At our school stop we used to have black chanas mixed with onions, tomatoes and potatoes, floating in a pool of tamarind juice. The sharp taste was achieved by adding tartaric acid; probably what was missing in the Bengali market gol gappas. They came in small plastic bags and the only way to eat them was to put the mouth of the bag in one’s mouth and pull the chanas up. The killer chanas had a sour and spicy aroma that spread through the van. Slowing and gradually, the van jerked forward on the bumpy roads while my taste buds took me to a distant, more piquant galaxy. We stopped at the next school in Garden Town. A peculiar breed of shocking pink tamarind was found there, sold on old newspaper pieces. It was sweet and had a liberal topping of spices (turmeric and red chili). I used to eat it slowly but Itba’s lips were dipped in pink, probably the additional colouring. She looked like Dracula’s younger sister with her pale thin face, red mouth and flowing golden hair. One day, I was boarding the van with my plastic bag of delight, when my aunt caught me. She had driven my mom to school so that we could all go shopping later. This was the most “haw-haye” moment ever. Mother refused to give me money for the next few days till I promised to give up my lethal obsession. But this promise was broken soon. On another occasion, we participated in a poster competition about Hepatitis C awareness and the teacher encouraged us to draw these dirty street foods and present them as breeding grounds for the virus. This led to a moral dilemma for a few days. But the little guilt I had entertained, bid me adieu when I lost the contest. The school was not the only place where I experienced gastronomic liberation. One of my aunts used to live in Canal Park, a hub of street hawkers in Gulberg. Amidst the lazy afternoons, my cousin Ashi and I used to go downstairs to get ladoo peethian and gol gappay. Once we went to the Liberty market and Ashi drank a dozen glasses of the gol gappa water full of tartary. The whole family was impressed till she came down with a fever that lasted for three weeks. And, we realised that persecuting our throat more than once a day wasn’t viable. My aunt has moved out of Canal Park and Ashi is in Scotland now. Few years ago, when I went back to school, the explosive chickpea and tamarind stalls had been removed. But their flavour can never be removed from my thoughts. As Nabakov puts it, “Speak, Memory.”
*Weekend Bicycle
Ride, a Critical Mass event, takes a short and snappy tour through the
streets around Circular Road (Montgomery, Brandeth, Shah Alam Bazaar,
etc). Passing by lots of food markets (inner city bazaars, the old food
street, Lakshmi Chowk), breakfast on the way is also on the cards. *LUMS Biology Seminar
2013 with Dr Saima Naz, PhD from Université de Caen-Basse Normandie,
France, on September 3, at Smart Lab, SBASSE 1st Floor. Time: 3:30-4:30pm.
*Trek to Makra Peak
Naran takes off from Thokar Niaz Baig on Sep 12 at 12pm. Trip cost:
Rs8,000. Trip duration: 3 to 4 days. Trekking days: Two. Maximum altitude:
11,765 ft and 3,586 metres. Accommodation: Two nights of camping at Makra
Base camp. Registration form
available at: https://docs.google.com/forms/d/1NluiePEef29
zEtXF7ZF1zPb6md-ADo4bcq1Et5O7z0M/viewform
trend The Punjab
government has failed to provide official number plates to motorists
across the province, forcing the new car owners to invent a novel way to
deal with the situation. They are now getting ‘Al-Bakistan’ or
‘Al-Bunjab’ embossed on their number plates. TNS learns that the
style has been borrowed from Dubai and Saudi Arabia where the name of the
country is embossed on the number plates of the motor vehicles. That is
their official style. But since most cars are imported from Dubai, the
Pakistanis have taken to the design. The trend started early
this year and now it seems to have become the most viable option across
the length and breadth of Punjab, chiefly in Lahore. The car owners can
now easily purchase such number plates, since the Punjab Excise Department
has stopped collecting the fee for number plates from motorists. The
motorists, in other words, are now freely getting the number plates of
their choice prepared. Most of the car owners,
who have adopted the new trend, are of the view that these number plates
give their vehicle the look of an “imported car.” When asked randomly if
the City Traffic Police or the Motorway Police check this violation and
issue challans, the motorists say it does not matter. Some of them seem happy
they can mention the name of their homeland on their car’s number plate.
Others believe it is feasible in the absence of standardised official
number plates. Talking about the trend,
a vendor of number plates outside the Punjab Excise Department simply
equates it with “a challan chit.” Explaining himself, the
vendor says that just as the Excise Department has stopped issuing number
plates, the people have started adopting newer methods without caring
about their legality or authenticity. He reveals that the
price of an official number plate’s replica is Rs400 whereas that of the
number plate with ‘Al-Bakistan’ on it costs between Rs500-600. Designing the number
plates as such is illegal. But the vendor believes the people like to show
off attractive patterns, so it works for them. Chief Traffic Officer (CTO)
Lahore, Capt (r) Suhail Ch regards the trend as acceptable when compared
with the other weird designs some motorists like to go for, especially at
a time when the government has stopped issuing the standardised number
plates. Capt (r) Suhail Ch
believes that the name of the country (Pakistan) or the province (in this
case, Punjab), when written in Arabic, assumes a greater significance for
the Muslims in the region. However, he is quick to
stress on the fact that there “shouldn’t be any funny element [in the
number plates].” He also says the traffic
police will be able to take full action the day the government starts
providing official number plates to the vehicle owners. An official of Motorway
Police terms this as a lame excuse. He says the car owners will have to
face the music at the toll plazas, no matter what their reasons for using
such number plates may be. “They shall not be allowed to pass,” he
declares. A senior investigator of
Lahore Police says that even though the public is not at fault in the
current situation, this kind of trends create problems for the law
enforcement agencies, especially the police trying to recover stolen cars.
He urges the government
to address the issue as soon as possible, as this involves the safety and
convenience of the vehicle owners. Excise & Taxation
Officer (ETO) Shahzad Malik is more firm in his opinion. “Any design
other than the one that is official is illegal,” he says. He also claims that the
government is keen to resolve the matter at the earliest. arshad.dogar182@gmail.com Background The Punjab Excise
Department stopped issuing number plates to the newly registered vehicles
across the province, beginning May 2011, due to the cancellation of the
contract with a private firm. A report says that around 850,000 people
have yet to receive the computerised number plates for their newly
registered vehicles even though they have made the payment already. Despite the
four-year-old term of computerised number plates, the Punjab government
has failed to do the needful.
Park as you
go Salman Rasheed,
a renowned travel writer, lives in PCSIR housing Society — a locality
situated at a long distance from the city center. His work requires him to
regularly travel downtown and spend long hours at the Punjab Public
Library. Once here, he buries himself in piles of books, takes notes of
whatever interests him and sifts through shelves to find new books. Nothing deters him from
embarking on this journey, though he is quite uncomfortable with the idea
of driving on congested roads. He is quite stressed while he drives on
congested roads. The smoke-emitting vehicles, the reckless drivers who
overtake him from the wrong side, the motorcyclists who suddenly spring up
right in front of his vehicle from nowhere and the ever-present
pedestrians with suicidal ideation do not let him relax even for a second. Salman has always dreamt
of a journey where he can relax and sit back, and read some book on his
way to his destination. He is relieved to know that now he can avoid
driving on congested roads and does not need desperately to look for a
parking place. He is all praise for the
government initiative of setting up park and ride facilities along the
route of Lahore Metro Bus Transit System (LMBTS). This, he says, will
reduce the load of motorized traffic on city roads, improve the flow of
traffic and also help people save fuel. Salman Pervez, a
resident of Nishtar Colony on Ferozepur, is lucky to have this facility at
five-minute drive from his house. Earlier, he used to travel to Badami
Bagh where he works as a salesman on his motorbike. Now, he simply parks
his motorbike at the park and ride facility and reaches his shop within 40
minutes or so. The round-trip costs him
Rs40 only. Besides, traveling on air-conditioned metro bus is far more
convenient than riding his bike. Above all, his dress does not get spoiled
by dust, smoke or sweat. “My boss is very particular about the
appearance of employees and does not listen to any excuse. Thanks God now
I am in presentable shape when I reach office,” he says. Despite the benefits
they entail, the company — Le Park — which operates these facilities
is not satisfied with the number of commuters benefiting from them. Le
Park Parking Manager Kazim Khan tells TNS they are not developing more
sites, and currently trying to popularise this trend. He thinks it will
take people some time to change their traveling habits. The company has
introduced concessional rates of Rs10 for cars, Rs5 for motorcycles and
Rs2 for bicycles. The company’s representatives are present at these
sites from 5:30am to 11:30pm and look after the vehicles with extreme
care. The parking sites have
been set up at Shahdara, Azadi Chowk, Ichra, Canal, Qaddafi Stadium, Model
Town, Naseerabad, Ittefaq Hospital, Qainchi, Nishtar Colony etc. There is
no restriction imposed by the government and anybody can park there
vehicles. People think only those willing to travel on metro bus can park
their vehicles here but this is not the case, he adds. Salman Rasheed thinks
the government must start several feeder bus routes and set up similar
facilities there to promote the trend of traveling on public transport.
“People want to use these facilities but they find it hard to reach the
route of metro bus. I would love to park my vehicle close to my house
rather than on Ferozepur Road after traveling 10 or 20 kilometres.” Le Park Senior Manager
Fahad Rehman says if Lahore Transport Company (LTC) requests them to set
up park and ride facility on the routes it operates,the company will be
more than happy to help them out. The government’s purpose of setting up
this company is to facilitate the general public and it will do all it can
to achieve this end.
Garlands of small
currency notes continue to be in vogue.
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In Bulleh Shah’s
poetry, man is the most predominant subject and this ‘man’ (as in
humanity) was to be seen all over the place, regardless of social or
religious disparities.
