Beggar at Ghazi Chowk

By ZEERAK AHMED

Oh Yes.

7 Jul 2010

Boom Boom

Just witnessed Pakistan beat Australia, again!

A large family gathering involved screaming at the television set and Pakistani fielding as we made jokes and prayed for us to win while recovering from gross overeating at Gawalmandi, what used to house the famed Food Street, but alas, it is for Shahbaz Sharif that we do no more.

My father and I watched together today, as we did the World T20 final that we won, and also the one we lost. My best cricket memories always involve him.

Also heard a Pepsi ad more closely today. Its an advert for a cricket talent hunt run by Pepsi and the Pakistan Cricket Board, the stars of the ad being Imran Khan and Wasim Akram. Imran starts off by saying (translated from Urdu):

This is not a game, it is a junoon (passion/obsession – yes same source as name of band Junoon), which flows through our every vein.

I would also like to quote my previous blog post, which mind you, I wrote without paying heed to this ad.

From being the old adage to fight of the British in the field…, to the cricket boys will play on every third street corner and all dusty empty plots in the crackling heat. Cricket is in Pakistani blood.

Yes I’m tooting my own horn, but grant me this. In the words of Porcupine Tree, ‘credit me with some intelligence, if not just credit me’.

Meanwhile I share with you some of my favorite cricket quotes. Some drawn from the posters at Edgbaston.

“Be Afridi, be very Afridi”, spectators playing Boom Boom Pow to welcome Afridi (okay this isn’t a quote but it was hilarious). I am now blank. For some weird reason. I am a huge Afridi fan. Just wanted to make sure you got that if it wasn’t obvious. Huge fan.

The End – On Cricket, Passion, Religion and Tragedy.

6 Jul 2010

After 12 straight losses against Australia, having last beat them in the first half of 2009, Pakistan finally managed to turn up the gas in yesterday’s T20 at Edgbaston, Birmingham. This is Pakistan’s ‘home’ series against Australia, being played at a neutral venue because of security concerns in Pakistan. While Australia has refused to land in Pakistan for more than a decade now, other teams met breaking point when gunmen attacked the Sri Lankan cricket team in March 2009 in an unprecedented, unpredicted, monster of a terrorist attack. That was that for international cricket in Pakistan for a while. The International Cricket Council (ICC) just announced hosts for multilateral events for the next five years and Pakistan is predictably missing from the list. The episode has been a gruesome reminder of the pariah status that Pakistani soil has bought itself.

For now England is our new home ground, thanks largely to the great crowd support the team saw at the World T20 victory in England, June of ’09. Cricinfo writes in their tour diary after yesterday’s game:

It’s sad that Pakistan won’t be hosting any international teams at home for the foreseeable future. But if Monday’s Twenty20 in Birmingham is any indication, they could do worse than making England a de facto base in the next couple of years.

The Edgbaston ground wasn’t quite full – substantial rebuilding works played a part in that – but of the 12,000 or so fans it’s fair to say 80-90% were supporting Pakistan. Birmingham has one of the biggest Pakistani populations in the UK – indeed the previous lord mayor of the city, Abdul Rashid, was originally from Pakistan – and they can expect similar support when they hit Leeds for the second Test.

As is obvious to many, cricket is not just a game in Pakistan, not at all. It has been called religion, and while that’s a metaphor, to say that it is an essential component of Pakistani cultural is as real as you can get. From being the old adage to fight of the British in the field, to being the source of our only modern day heroes, to being our primary source of entertainment, to being the one thing that people say brings Pakistanis together under one flag, to the cricket boys will play on every third street corner and all dusty empty plots in the crackling heat. Cricket is in Pakistani blood.

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What I’m Working On.

5 Jul 2010

So part of this project was not just writing but some photo essays I wanted to do on life and art in Pakistan.

In light of now having my camera(s) working and understood, and also in the light of the sorts of pictures I saw myself taking, I’m working on a Lahore through my windshield gallery. It’s an experiment, but lets see how it goes. Its basically some very fast photography around the city. I’ve always been a fast photographer, setting up never seems to work for me that well, and this seems to be an easier way for me to capture auras, especially of places like Lahore.

It should be up in the next ten days or so. Stay tuned, please.

Lahore is Struck. Again.

2 Jul 2010

Courtesy Express Tribune

I read about this late last night and the effect of it is hitting me just now as my day starts.

Much of Lahore might still be unaware of the series of [now updated, I referred to this as triple suicide blasts in the original posts, when I can now not clearly confirm that] suicide blasts that rocked one of the most spiritual sites in the city, the Data Darbar. I was actually planning to go there next Thursday with some friends to listen to some Qawwalis. Not sure if that’s happening any time soon.

Going to work and not sure how many people I’ll run into. Many might just stay home, but then again, this is now ‘normal’.

A Song I’m Hooked To.

1 Jul 2010

httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VI9MXNeFtts

This is Bachpan by Kaavish, an extremely talented duo that’s just recently launched their debut album Gunkali. The video is equally moving as the song, and director Umar Anwar adds to his extensive repertoire of excellent videos.

The video, as is obvious when you see it, revolves around a young man’s funeral, and everybody else’s feelings on losing a loved one. I’ve been listening to the song ever since I bought Gunkali a few days ago, and thought it was an appropriate soundtrack for my post a couple of days ago.

The song’s been remastered on the album (the video was released a while ago), and its even better. Do listen if you get the chance. A translation of the lyrics after the break.

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Why Don’t They Suspect Me Anymore?

30 Jun 2010

I think I’ve mentioned the checkposts in most Pakistani cities in this blog before. Basically here’s what they are: metal structures that block part of the road and make it a pain to drive and possibly question why you were given a driving license, policemen/soldiers armed with really large/scary guns with a right to shoot anyone who does not stop and a sprinkling of flashlights for the night when many streetlights might be off thanks to the electricity shortages, but that’s not always the case.

I don’t know what criteria the agencies use to ask you to stop and identify yourself before they let you pass. If they do stop you its not really that long before you’re off (I’m assuming that’s if you’re not carrying a bomb, otherwise my guess is that some more investigation might be involved). If there’s a female, or many females for that matter in your car then you will not be stopped.

So last year whenever I drove alone, or with a male friend etc., I would almost always be stopped. They’d look at my license or national ID card and I’d be off. I’m guessing that was to curb underage driving (not that big a deal, although rampant, at this point) or illegal immigration, seeing as the Afghan refugee problem was gaining more traction in critic circles.

This year however, I’m never stopped. It might be the glasses that make me look geekier, it might be that I’m now somehow giving off my supposed American accent (I still deny picking one up despite numerous claims by other people who are of course, obviously biased (note: please sense sarcasm)) or something else. It’s probably something else, but whatever it is I don’t get it.

This happened not just in Lahore but also in Islamabad, where I was recently on a trip with some friends. The worst I’ve gotten is policemen asking us to step out of the car while they frisk it as we exited Islamabad and again as we entered Lahore. They asked us whose car it was and looked for the registration booklet. Stolen cars seems to be a target here, but I’m sure they’re are others as well.

More often than not though, I’ll get a gesture to stop, have a policeman stare at me for a couple of seconds while he thinks of how dangerous I might be before letting me go by another wave of his hand. There is one or more men with a gun ready behind a bunker all the time while this happens.

These security forces do however, have possibly the worst jobs in these times. They have odd hours, through the cracking heat and through the dark night, have very little margin to escape if they do run into a vehicle with explosives that’s going to go off, and are also one part of society that’s constantly been targeted as a symbol of resistance to the government. They are risking their lives for all of us at this very moment, like they are at all other times of day. Please don’t give them an excuse to shoot you.

Stories From a Night Out.

26 Jun 2010

I was out with some friends/colleagues a night or two ago, planning TEDxLahore, Pakistan’s first and largest TED talk (yes I’m shamelessly advertising our work; please do apply to attend or watch the livefeed). Besides seeing a glimpse of Ayeshah Alam, I also managed to hear rumors of how the Jaidi Paan Shop guy (the concept of a Pan shop is hard to explain when my point is something else, but will come to it soon) had been rewarded/bribed with a Prado by Coca-Cola for not keeping Pepsi products in his store. I should quit blogging and take up a paanwala position. This all happens while I think of excuses to avoid overpriced coffee at this highly western coffee shop with freezing air conditioners. Seriously, freezing.

Anyway, digression. While we talked, I took the liberty of telling one of my staple stories. I’m quite sure I’ve written about it before (actually no, I have no idea) but it’s good enough to be written about again. I have a Lithuanian coworker at the University, and as we muse to take our minds off washing dishes we talk about a lot. Seeing as his academic interests revolved around the politics of Islam, and I was well, from Pakistan, we had common ground. So while he researched the Grand Siege of Mecca of 1979 he read of the Lal Masjid (Red Mosque) issue in Islamabad so we had a briefing of sorts. As I customarily made fun of politics, terrorism, terror, politics (again), ignorance and stupidity he told me a story related by one of his Professors (who is not related in any way to aforementioned terms). Apparently he landed in Lahore and missed a suicide blast by ten minutes as he drove off, but reminisced by saying “but Lahore is beautiful”. My friend laughed at the ridiculousness of the statement, I laughed at my difficulty at explaining something I felt and understood myself.

The stories got more tragic however.

Our curator related his story of a blast near Mall Road targeting an ISI office from summer last year. I remembered the blast as I felt a wave of pressure hit the center where we were taking our A Level exams. I also remembered mistaking it for someone bumping into the glass doors rather loudly at the time. This was much farther down the Mall, my friend was in his house about 300 yards away.

As he stammered to get some money from his father before he left the house (he can never forget the moment, he says), the door to his verandah bursts open and neither he nor his father can hear the other. He hides behind a desk, his brother who was asleep, wakes up and walks out the door only to be greeted by the sound of firing. My friend thought for a second a war had broken out.

The story of our other colleague was worse, unfortunately. This still stops me, every time I think of it.

A few months ago twin blasts ripped through busy Moon Market in Lahore, in Allama Iqbal Town, a dense residential area not far from Punjab University. The blasts killed dozens and injured many more.

Two friends were in the market when the first device went off. They stood together, but ran in opposite directions. One survived, the other ran into the second blast of the night. The survivor saw life, but not peace. He saw a woman with no arm begging to just be put onto an ambulance, he came home and cried.

A Citizen’s Account of The Raiwind Road Protest.

24 Jun 2010

On Raiwind Road, near the outskirts of Lahore, close to the motorway that leads to Islamabad is University College Lahore or UCL. One of the many colleges to rip off acronyms from London and add to the similarities between the two cities.

A few nights ago UCL was hosting Imran Khan (the British/Pakistani Bhangra artist, not the cricketer/social/worker/politician or the Bollywood actor). Khan’s claim to fame is innovative Bhangra that is catchy, with lyrics that are completely ridiculous, hence equally catchy. Perhaps his most famous song, Amplifier, is embedded.

httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uuCFRaFWjwY

This is one of the rare musical tours happening in Pakistan at the moment, even in relatively tolerant, liberal and fun-loving Lahore.

I was down at Raiwind Road to visit family that lives some distance past UCL, and got caught in a traffic jam on the way back. Two cars had been parked horizontally across the road, and then a few young men went on to light fire to some tires on the one side of the road. Allw e could get was they were somehow against the concert, whether their reasons were religious, political or affiliation with the school could not be known.

As with all protests, besides the fact that they’re holding up the tire industry (I’m guessing tire imports), a little danga-fasad (disturbance) ensued, but no irrecoverable damage seemed to have been done. There was almost no panic on the scene, perhaps some anger, but no panic. This sort of protest is not the norm, but it doesn’t seem to take people by surprise. The most worry I saw was perhaps from my grandmother in the back seat of our car, but even she seemed to think of this as something we were going to run into some day.

We managed to get out somehow in a few minutes (some cars were moved I think), and that was that. It wasn’t a big deal in the news, in fact I’m not even sure it appeared, but I can’t be definitive on that. I had some grainy pictures from my phone to show but my phone’s bluetooth is no longer working. Hafeez Center to the rescue until more.

The Problem With the Elite.

20 Jun 2010

Image Courtesy The Express Tribune

George Fulton is a Pakistan based British freelance journalist. He also writes Op-Eds for the Express Tribune and this recent one titled We Are the Problem is pretty brilliant. It highlights an issue not really talked about openly and frequently enough and is written really well. I spent about a half hour trying to choose which paragraph to quote here but I couldn’t. You just have to read the entire thing.

His story is also pretty interesting and unique, and he is one of Pakistan’s prominent and rare immigrants (aside of refugees). Wikipedia has a brief but good profile on him.

George Fulton (b. November 10, 1977 in Birkenhead, Merseyside, United Kingdom) is a Pakistan-based British television journalist and producer.

Fulton was working for the BBC when he travelled to Karachi, Pakistan, to launch a BBC produced political talk show on Pakistani politics called Question Time Pakistan.Hard Talk Pakistan. He was then offered to do a reality show, George Ka Pakistan, by Pakistan’s Geo TV based on his ex Following which he produced BBC’s periences in Pakistan. During the show which was a success, he married a Pakistani, Kiran.

George soon left Geo TV for another Pakistani TV channel, Aaj TV, where he launched Pakistan’s version of Have I Got News For You, called News, Views & Confused. He produced and scripted the show’s first season, before moving on to produce Aaj TV’s morning show, Kiran Aur George with his wife. Both also host the show.

Hopelessness is Rampant.

20 Jun 2010

I often ask people what they think of this blog. This has also included people I interview. Often my analysis is thought of as simplistic, and often I’m told that all of it is very surface level, and often my analysis lacks depth. More often than not, the depth of the analysis yields way to a hidden vice, at times to a conspiracy theory, generally just failure on many levels by many involved.

My common excuse is to say I’m not anthropologist, renowned journalist or political analyst, so I do what I do. What I usually don’t say is that often I will choose to ignore the depth of any analysis if I see no benefit in thinking about it. So when I shamelessly proclaim my love for mainstream pop/rock and Coke Studio, I choose to not think about how corporations are ‘taking over everything’ and ‘selling everything to us’. So what.

At times it leads to an obvious loss of authenticity in artwork, when it doesn’t, to be honest I couldn’t care less who paid for it. Often I say I’d rather have corporations with money than politicians, and then I quote Coke Studio, and the positive insights and exposure its given us. Many people think businesses and politicians are equally dangerous. Whatever the case, I pretend that hope exists.

However, while I try looking around for signs of hope, genuine or not, often just gimmicks and other times actual facts or stories hidden somewhere, a real sense of hopelessness exists in this country. Their have always been skeptics, but this is not them. This is normal people actually thinking that nothing can be done. Some choose to ignore it, I filter it at times, but other times it just stares at you.

Ardeshir Cowasjee is a senior columnist for Dawn, and I was compelled to write this post after I read this column. I found it posted by a friend on Facebook. No comments, just the link. I’m not sure what comments he could have added once I thought about it. It’s not the first time I’ve heard/read that Pakistan has just gone downhill since it was created. I’ve heard it as an argument for people who choose to emigrate to more prosperous, and (as the concern now is) safer societies.

A friend and I shared an email exchange with Cowasjee after this column. I sense that the blame game is slowly expanding to Pakistanis as well. By this I mean that in addition to the blame we put on the US, ‘the West’, various intelligence agencies and India, we now also think Pakistani politicians, corruption, a lack of effort is also part of the problem. I have heard many people say to me that this ‘previous generation has failed us’, meaning the generation of my parents has failed my generation. This is said more so by my parents’ generation than mine.

In the spirit of my superficial analysis, I want to mention this story. While many administrators may have actually gotten worse in 63 years of independence, one District Coordination Officer (DCO) in Jhang set up an ingenious anti corruption mechanism that was successful enough to catch the eye of the Economist. Zubair K. Bhatti (read his profile here) ensured that for every recorded transaction, the mobile phone number of both parties was also recorded. Mobiles are now unbelievably common/cheap in Pakistan. He would then randomly call people and ask if they were asked for bribes etc. The mechanism worked like a charm and was promised to be implemented by Punjab Chief Minister Shahbaz Sharif but fell through somewhere unidentified. The idea was to use call centers to implement this on larger scales. That hasn’t happened but at least we now know we have an idea.