Jahane Rumi In search of the unsearchable: O, my soul! where would you find your house?

26Oct/093

Media misogyny

My piece for The Friday Times

Pakistan’s electronic media is not accountable to anyone except to the barons and the market. And let us not forget that the barons, the mafia and the market are great bedfellows

Stereotype sells and its reinforcement is a popular cause. Perhaps this is why the electronic media has taken the inherent sexism of mainstream Urdu media to new heights. A new culture of real-time degradation of women is in vogue – all in the name of entertainment and the vague estimation of ratings that guarantee commercial earnings.

In the recent weeks, we were shamelessly entertained by a reality-TV-esque squabble between two parliamentarians who called each other names. Dr Firdous Ashiq Awan, a sitting federal minister of the ruling party, and Kashmala Tariq, a doyenne of the Musharraf regime entered into an argument over switching of political loyalties. Kashmala had a fair point: Dr Awan switched her party before the 2008 election and joined the PPP. Once confronted with this uncomfortable truth, she became abusive to the extent of questioning Kashamla’s ‘character’, a generally male-defined view of women’s sexuality in Pakistan.

3May/091

Fahmida Riaz – “Her dreams of the future”

Barricaded Islamabad enveloped by the ghosts of national gloom has one little corner of hope. The Pakistan Academy of Letters, under its dynamic and committed Chairman, Fakhar Zaman, continues to weave narratives that still inspire. Even when the bitterness of our grim present affects us all, Fakhar Zaman was forthright in his views on Pakistan, its future and most importantly, its literary tradition. The venue was the book launch of Fahmida Riaz’s novel Godavari that has been translated into English. Fahmida Riaz is better known as a poet but her unique prose is lesser known. Her short stories and novels are extraordinary pieces of literary works rendered into sheer poetry. Often it is difficult to determine the genre of her ‘prose’ works as the lines between watertight compartments blur and fade away, only to reappear as a gentle reminder to the readers that our author is experimenting in her inimitable style. 

Godavari was published last year by the Oxford University Press and Fakhar Zaman organised its launch under the aegis of PAL only to ensure that there are many indigenous, native voices in English that have yet not caved in to the pressures and inducements of Western publishing houses. Godavari is a deceptively simple story of a few characters visiting a holiday hill resort in Maharashtra a little before the communal riots that shook Bombay and India in the 1980s. But deep within its lines, sub-textual connotations and shifting moods lie tales of discrimination, communal hatred and the unfettered spirits of its universal female characters. The heartening aspect of this book launch was that there were a few dozen enthusiasts present on the occasion, and a few powerful