‘Mufti Sahab, yeh kya baat huyee’
This Valentine’s day, I am in love. And here I am writing a love letter.
KARACHI:
I am rather old fashioned. So much so, that in this day and age when people hook-up, have affairs, break up, get married and divorced using email, instant messages and Facebook, I still believe in the romanticism and power of long hand written letters. (Ironically enough, I got divorced on email).
But I haven’t written a love letter in years, reason being, I have not met anyone who makes me fall in love. This Valentine’s day, I am in love. And here I am writing a love letter. I still have not met you but I find myself hopelessly in love with you. I wish I sent you this letter dripping with sweet words, laden with poetry, smelling of a heady bunch of roses but love, like fashion, also reflects the times we live in so, unfortunately, my love for you is love in the time of extremism. But you have been a shining ray of hope, a much-needed a breath of fresh air and an ecstatic sense of freedom.
Let me clarify something before I go in full swing: I am not in love with your beauty, sensuality or even talent; my love springs from respect. Yes, I became an admirer of your talent and versatility after seeing you in ‘Hum Sab Umeed Sai Hain’ but still didn’t fall in love. Before that I had issues with your dress sense (massive issues). In fact, I was a bit cheesed off when you went public about your heart break with some cricketer. Yes, it did leave a bad taste in my mouth. I understand that you were in love which has its own sorrows when remain unrequited, but I am all about form and dignity, especially in the matters of the heart. I was happy for you when you became a guest in “Bigg Boss” and managed to stay in that house for 84 days. But still there was no love.
And then out of nowhere, it happened in one night. After a depressing, dreary day, I reached home, switched on the television and there you were taking on Kamran Shahid and a rabid mullah. My God! I was blown away by your conviction, boldness, confidence, grace, eloquence and fearlessness. But the greatest virtue you showed that night was your ability to speak the truth and hold your ground in the face of naked adversity and aggression. You floored me.
I fail to understand why all Pakistani men feel that you, your clothes or your actions are responsible for their honour, especially clergymen and Kamran Shahid’s. In fact, broadening this question, is Pakistani male honour stored in women’s clothes and their conduct? I wonder why they can’t keep men’s honour in their own clothes, conduct and private parts and conduct?
The right wing and clergy we are used to, their version of religion takes an offence at the drop of a dupatta. They know about every ‘sin’ committed, every ‘vice’ enjoyed and yet they have the time to scream themselves hoarse on the imaginary fast-spreading nudity, vulgarity and fashion. Observing their undue, uncalled for reaction, I often wonder they actually crave for these three vices to be spread. And they are not getting enough of them. What I would like to tell them is that like beauty, vulgarity and nudity also lie in the eye of the beholder.
But it’s the red-faced, hysterical reaction of hypocritical and mysogynisitc men like Syed Noor and Kamran Shahid towards you amuses me. Syed Noor had the cheek to sermonise on the virtues of modesty, honour and shame. But we can forgive him for not knowing any better as he comes from a generation of the late Pakistani Film Industry when values and principles died with Nazrul Islam and honour was an over-rated cinematic cliche. However, I thought the legendary institution of the Government College of Lahore had polished and opened Kamran Shahid’s mind and changed the ‘filmi’ concept of honour for him. Alas! Nurture defeated education. I would love to see him conducting a show with his father Shahid, easrtwhile famous actor of the late Pakistani film industry. Film buffs collective memory and newspapers archives are still full of his reported scandals and of course his fine ‘performance’ in zara-hut-ke films which never get screened, just circulated on video cassettes and now DVDs. Morality, like charity, also begins at home, is all I would like to tell him
I feel proud of you. You not only practice but uphold freedom of choice and expression but fight for these rights. These virtues have become a rarity in our society. But you shattered that silence and have given strength to so many. You have become a huge source of inspiration; I must admit that I am deeply concerned about your life. Throwing acid on beautiful women is some Pakistani men’s favourite entertainment. Making beautiful, bold women ugly and disfigured like their own selves gives deep satisfaction to their sick minds.
But coming back to you as a source of inspiration, DJ Shahrukh has composed a rap song with your fiery truth about Pakistan. At the recent held Karachi Literary Festival your rap song was the topic of many a vibrant conversations.
To my pleasant surprise historian Alex Von Tunzelmann and writer Sadia Shephard were found praising both. And alas! I was struck by a novel idea. I designed a scarf with your silhouette and presented it to Tunzelmann who absolutely loved it. In no time, it became a smash hit with demands for tee shirts, scarves and even a sari in similar designs.
I do intend to get tee shirts printed, posters made. ‘Mufti sahab, yeh kya baat huyee’ is iconic having the potential to become one of the most popular resistance music pieces coming out of Pakistan in recent years. It has simply been revolutionary! You have given a voice to every moderate, peace-loving Pakistani’s heartfelt desperate desire and it has gone viral on YouTube.
I myself listen to it at least five times everyday. If you ever decide to come into politics, this rap music piece should be your anthem. Your entry in Pakistani politics is a great idea. We need firebrand, honest, bold politicians like you in the assemblies. If you participate in the elections, I promise I shall give you my most precious possession – my vote.
Published in The Express Tribune, February 13th, 2011.
I am rather old fashioned. So much so, that in this day and age when people hook-up, have affairs, break up, get married and divorced using email, instant messages and Facebook, I still believe in the romanticism and power of long hand written letters. (Ironically enough, I got divorced on email).
But I haven’t written a love letter in years, reason being, I have not met anyone who makes me fall in love. This Valentine’s day, I am in love. And here I am writing a love letter. I still have not met you but I find myself hopelessly in love with you. I wish I sent you this letter dripping with sweet words, laden with poetry, smelling of a heady bunch of roses but love, like fashion, also reflects the times we live in so, unfortunately, my love for you is love in the time of extremism. But you have been a shining ray of hope, a much-needed a breath of fresh air and an ecstatic sense of freedom.
Let me clarify something before I go in full swing: I am not in love with your beauty, sensuality or even talent; my love springs from respect. Yes, I became an admirer of your talent and versatility after seeing you in ‘Hum Sab Umeed Sai Hain’ but still didn’t fall in love. Before that I had issues with your dress sense (massive issues). In fact, I was a bit cheesed off when you went public about your heart break with some cricketer. Yes, it did leave a bad taste in my mouth. I understand that you were in love which has its own sorrows when remain unrequited, but I am all about form and dignity, especially in the matters of the heart. I was happy for you when you became a guest in “Bigg Boss” and managed to stay in that house for 84 days. But still there was no love.
And then out of nowhere, it happened in one night. After a depressing, dreary day, I reached home, switched on the television and there you were taking on Kamran Shahid and a rabid mullah. My God! I was blown away by your conviction, boldness, confidence, grace, eloquence and fearlessness. But the greatest virtue you showed that night was your ability to speak the truth and hold your ground in the face of naked adversity and aggression. You floored me.
I fail to understand why all Pakistani men feel that you, your clothes or your actions are responsible for their honour, especially clergymen and Kamran Shahid’s. In fact, broadening this question, is Pakistani male honour stored in women’s clothes and their conduct? I wonder why they can’t keep men’s honour in their own clothes, conduct and private parts and conduct?
The right wing and clergy we are used to, their version of religion takes an offence at the drop of a dupatta. They know about every ‘sin’ committed, every ‘vice’ enjoyed and yet they have the time to scream themselves hoarse on the imaginary fast-spreading nudity, vulgarity and fashion. Observing their undue, uncalled for reaction, I often wonder they actually crave for these three vices to be spread. And they are not getting enough of them. What I would like to tell them is that like beauty, vulgarity and nudity also lie in the eye of the beholder.
But it’s the red-faced, hysterical reaction of hypocritical and mysogynisitc men like Syed Noor and Kamran Shahid towards you amuses me. Syed Noor had the cheek to sermonise on the virtues of modesty, honour and shame. But we can forgive him for not knowing any better as he comes from a generation of the late Pakistani Film Industry when values and principles died with Nazrul Islam and honour was an over-rated cinematic cliche. However, I thought the legendary institution of the Government College of Lahore had polished and opened Kamran Shahid’s mind and changed the ‘filmi’ concept of honour for him. Alas! Nurture defeated education. I would love to see him conducting a show with his father Shahid, easrtwhile famous actor of the late Pakistani film industry. Film buffs collective memory and newspapers archives are still full of his reported scandals and of course his fine ‘performance’ in zara-hut-ke films which never get screened, just circulated on video cassettes and now DVDs. Morality, like charity, also begins at home, is all I would like to tell him
I feel proud of you. You not only practice but uphold freedom of choice and expression but fight for these rights. These virtues have become a rarity in our society. But you shattered that silence and have given strength to so many. You have become a huge source of inspiration; I must admit that I am deeply concerned about your life. Throwing acid on beautiful women is some Pakistani men’s favourite entertainment. Making beautiful, bold women ugly and disfigured like their own selves gives deep satisfaction to their sick minds.
But coming back to you as a source of inspiration, DJ Shahrukh has composed a rap song with your fiery truth about Pakistan. At the recent held Karachi Literary Festival your rap song was the topic of many a vibrant conversations.
To my pleasant surprise historian Alex Von Tunzelmann and writer Sadia Shephard were found praising both. And alas! I was struck by a novel idea. I designed a scarf with your silhouette and presented it to Tunzelmann who absolutely loved it. In no time, it became a smash hit with demands for tee shirts, scarves and even a sari in similar designs.
I do intend to get tee shirts printed, posters made. ‘Mufti sahab, yeh kya baat huyee’ is iconic having the potential to become one of the most popular resistance music pieces coming out of Pakistan in recent years. It has simply been revolutionary! You have given a voice to every moderate, peace-loving Pakistani’s heartfelt desperate desire and it has gone viral on YouTube.
I myself listen to it at least five times everyday. If you ever decide to come into politics, this rap music piece should be your anthem. Your entry in Pakistani politics is a great idea. We need firebrand, honest, bold politicians like you in the assemblies. If you participate in the elections, I promise I shall give you my most precious possession – my vote.
Published in The Express Tribune, February 13th, 2011.