Junaid Jamshed and the disco cleric inside me

After my parents banned music in our household, I had access to only one contraband song as a nine year old boy. Junaid Jamshed’s ‘Hum Hain Pakistani’ which I had smuggled from a school friend. That song meant the world to me. Listening to that song when my parents were out of the house was the ultimate act of rebellion. This party lasted till a wave of religiosity ripped through me at the ripe old age of ten (when praying became obligatory) and I threw the cassette away, only to regret it three days later. Over the next 15 years, my struggle to become a better Muslim, fortunately or unfortunately, became deeply entangled with my battle to give up music.

As I left home to start studying at LUMS, I began listening to music again. Meanwhile, as luck would have it, Junaid Jamshed decided to give up music. Growing up in conservative Saudi Arabia, freshman year at LUMS was like putting a kid in a candy store. I was having the time of my life. Then I took a course called ‘Introduction to Philosophy’ at the beginning of sophomore year. Sinning was one thing but questioning my beliefs was another. I had strayed too far. It was time to come back home. I called my father and told him I wanted to do Hajj.I made two promises to myself. One of them was that I’d give up music.

Meanwhile, my roommate was going through his own battle to give up music. One evening, brimming with faith, he deleted all the music from his computer. In moments of weakness, he would stream a song but never download it. One night I walked into him indulging himself and he had a guilt-stricken face as if I had caught him watching adult content. A year after Hajj, I started listening to music again and slowly went back to my old ways. In my senior year, I tried to give up music again. By the time I graduated from LUMS, I was exhausted. Exhausted because I didn’t know what I wanted. Or because I knew what I really wanted but didn’t think my religion allowed for it.

Junaid Jamshed meanwhile was going through swings of his own. I followed his story closely because I could project my personal weaknesses onto him. When I was going through a rebellious phase, I would argue it’s easy for him to become religious after having lived life fully as a pop music icon. It’s easy to become religious after you’ve had all your fun. I’m only 18 right now. I should cut myself some slack.

When I went through a phase of elevated religiosity, I thought I was better than him because he appeared to be very confused publicly. Was he a religious preacher, TV celebrity or businessman? Some people will do anything to stay in the limelight, I would think to myself. I’m better than him because I don’t do this for others. My struggle is real. There are no cameras planted in my life. I struggle only for God. I can’t say the same for Junaid.

When Junaid Jamshed’s life was tragically cut short in the plane crash last week, the internal conflicts I had buried deep within surfaced once again. When people fought over his legacy to advocate their own positions, it was like rubbing salt in my raw wounds from childhood. Everyone wanted to put a label on him so they could neatly define his legacy to their own advantage: disco moulvi, misogynist, pop icon, hypocrite, alleged blasphemer, religious evangelist. There’s only one way Junaid could have been accused of all these things at once: he was human. And then people placed these labels onto him to amplify the weaknesses of social groups they disagreed with. Unlike most of us, Junaid chose not to live a double life and hide his struggle to become a better human being. He was an honest man living in a dishonest society.

Regardless of where you fall on Islam’s position on music, the best way to honour someone’s memory is to continue their work.We could disagree with Junaid’s ideological position on things but we cannot deny that he was a courageous man who didn’t shy away from his struggle with religion in public. Junaid Jamshed is dead but we can keep his mission alive. A good place to start is following his example.

Published in The Express Tribune, December 16^th, 2016.

Like Opinion & Editorial on Facebook, follow @ETOpEd on Twitter to receive all updates on all our daily pieces.