Egg on our face

SEPTEMBER 2004 - Nothing should surprise anyone in Pakistan. The most bizarre things find their way into the national archives of famous achievements and people carve lifetime careers on the flimsiest of performances. Even as these lines appear and the President’s visit to the US coming to an end, yet another performance of ‘Anarkali’ would have been staged before an audience of glittering and undoubtedly, perplexed foreigners.

There can no longer be any visit abroad of high profile Pakistani leadership without the accompanying troupe of designers, dancers, choreographers, makeup divas, et al that make up the local ‘happening’ scene. There are some incredibly talented people in there but all that we ever stage as an expression of our vast cultural sweep is that ficticuous account of ‘Anarkali,’ the damsel who dared to fall in love with a prince and then paid the ultimate price for her folly – entombed live by a cruel and capricious tyrant, the one we still call, Akbar the Great. It seems that ‘Anarkali’ is the Toyota Corolla of our existence. If it’s a cultural event, it has to be this one. In between there have been some attempts at river sagas but the perennial favourite is this one number and we have played it to death. Maybe it might not be a bad idea to entomb those who succeed again and again in selling this flawed piece of half history and then stage it for the world to see. Behind the thin story are the glittering dresses from Pakistan, worn without doubt by some of our wonderful models. That the creations are unique and inspiring is to state the obvious. Designers in Pakistan work year in year out, often in hostile and sometimes unfavourable circumstances. These are talented men and women who create wonders with fabrics and indeed these works must be exhibited across the world, but for the love of God, can there be nothing more pathetic than this worn down story of the king, the prince and the dancing girl?

It’s a bad story because it reduces the greatest Mughal king to a whimsical and cruel barbarian, which he was not. While the beards can’t stand him – their hero being Aurangzeb who got fixated on the Deccan and spent 27 years or so slogging it out. When he came up for breath, Delhi was history and so was the dynasty. Akbar was aeons ahead of his times. Though I am no K.K.Aziz, I have read enough history to know that he was gifted and wise in an extraordinary dimension. Of course, like it is fashionable now, we will one of these days learn something awful about him, but it won’t be the entombing of a young girl for daring to love. As a story, it is not bad and it has been romanticized in movies with stirring sound tracks to boot, the heroine going on singing even as the masons who are there on daily wages are keen to finish the job. However, in ‘Anarkali’ someone has decided many years ago, that it is the perfect peg on which to hang our entire fashion extravaganza. A king, a prince, a ravishing beauty, a court – what more can you ask for? Never mind the implications of staging something like this to a world that views us through narrowed eyes and has a very definite opinion about what makes us tick – if you will forgive the unfortunate choice of the word. There are endless reports, some true, some false that depict us as Stone Age leftovers who are ready to loot, plunder, rape, maim, kill and blow to kingdom come anything and everything that doesn’t conform to our blighted vision of how the world should be. Why they think like this or how have we brought this on ourselves are long, tedious and complicated subjects full of controversy, misrepresentations and the history of our times.

What is important to remember is that the west – and this is where we take this production again and again, has a pretty poor opinion about our value systems, our track of human rights and the way we treat our people, particularly women. Our cultural showpiece may be visually stunning but the story leaves most who attend, with an even firmer conviction that while we may be a creative nation, we are still barbaric in our ways. By toting this at the highest official level as the cultural entourage of the head of the country, we are sending out clear but flawed messages. It is an endorsement of the way we see things and what’s more, a history that we are proud to own and exhibit. That’s one very fat, negative zero sum game. Everyone who attends these glittering affairs is not going to sift fact from fiction – and why should they? What expensive and glitzy productions like ‘Anarkali’ achieve at the end of the day, when the curtains are pulled, is one more nail in our coffin of being cruel and intolerant people. If we were entombing young lasses in the 17th century, no wonder we are engaged full time in honour killings, four centuries down that dusty road. After all, if honour killing ever deserved an international stage, ‘Anarkali’ sure as hell provides it. Again and again.

By all means, cultural troupes from Pakistan must visit the world ten times more than they do now. There is an urgent need to show the world the other side of Pakistan, the ‘soft’ side as the President often refers to. There are many talented, creative and unique artists who struggle against heavy odds in Pakistan, where opportunities are little and the money for most is meager. Their outpourings of creative genius can grace the world stage without casting an unfortunate slur on our country’s past and thereby its present. There is a folklore here that is richer than many understand and there are endless stories, fables and downright real history that can create the perfect setting for any cultural high extravaganza. However, if stitching clothes and stringing them up on a bad plot and poor storyline is all that is important, then I suppose ‘Anarkali’ or any other ‘kali’ will do just great. If in the bargain, we come across looking like first cousins of Attila the Hun, too bad. The designs were wonderful, darling. In any case, even if all objections about this particular cultural extended dream are withdrawn, surely it has reached its saturation point and must make room for something else. If this is the sum total, the be all and end all of our cultural outpouring, is the nation totally and completely brain dead? Can no one write anything else? We all know that the reverse is the case. When people manage to sell a concept, flawed or not, to the highest in the land and gain official approval without anyone understanding the implications that come with it, then things are serious. It is time to entomb ‘Anarkali’ once and for all and move on to something else.

However, having said all that, this will not happen. The following will. There will be rave reviews, manufactured by willing and loyal supporters. These will find their way into the media, print or electronic. There will be praises sung of the tremendous acclaim that the show received, specially from those who jetted there, organised it and participated in it. Kudos will be showered all around and the stage will be set for another ‘Anarakali’ performance in another part of the world.

A few years ago, Pakistan paid through the nose for an extravagant supplement that The Economist took out. There were huge advertisements from just about all the big corporate players, national institutions and of course from the GOP. The magazine had laid down stringent rules retaining editorial control. Sure enough, the first picture that the spread carried was a camel in a dusty, forlorn part of Sindh or Balochistan – it didn’t matter. That was the image that endured. The text was even more offensive. The Economist went laughing all the way to the bank and we were left with egg on our face. Did that stop us from repeating the folly? Of course not. Such paid follies still happen, which means that ‘Anarkali’ lives to blight us yet again.