Self Abuse

SEPTEMBER 2003 - The blackening of women’s faces on billboards has started again. In Lahore, there is virtually no billboard that has escaped this sick and demented expression of outrage which finds its fulfillment in throwing black paint on the faces of models, be they modern, ultra fashionable young ladies, young mothers or even teenage girls. In a city where entire families can be wiped out by cold-blooded murderers without so much as a squeak from the victims, it is not hard to understand that the police is quite clueless when it comes to catching those who think nothing of such actions.

When it began and quite expectedly from the province which is backward in more ways than one, there was some short-lived hope amongst the saner elements of society that this vandalism would be restricted to that area alone, where honour killing is still regarded as a social virtue. In that province and in the city of Peshawar the great custodians of law and order watched as interested by standers as Shalwar clad, bearded forces of moral virtues climbed like inspired monkeys, scaling heights and tearing down what they considered was offensive – be it the American flag, the good Colonel of fried chicken or our own ex-top gun Shahid Afridi sipping the dark cola with a damsel hanging on to his arm. The administration made no move to arrest anyone and were obviously under strict orders to take no action and not stop the wanton destruction of property. In Multan, not known exactly for its bright lights, the scene was repeated some weeks later with the establishment watching from a safe distance and making no effort to stop the vandalism. Lahore was next and it was months before some of the signage was repaired and restored, obviously at great cost to those who had made the mistake of investing in this outdoor medium. Now the blackening has returned with a vengeance.

The debate on what is morally sound and what is decent and what is not, has gone on far too long in this country. It seems to be an endless debate with absolutely no conclusion in any direction. From time to time, administrative decisions have been taken and these have been confined to the theatre and more or less die their own death in due course of time. The vulgarity that is now as common as the blood baths of Pakistani movies remains largely unchecked. In the land of the Pathans from where such moral high winds blow, the traditional Pushto cinema has for decades focused its sights on the nether parts of the female anatomy. My old theory still holds good that all cameramen whose talents we have witnessed in Pushto movies are all midgets and unable to focus beyond the immediate landscape. That is why the upward angle has remained in that state ever since the first Pushto film hit the circuit. Today, the wet-sari-rain sequence remains the great highlight of the Pakistani cinema. The gyrations and pelvic thrusts of the 250 pounders that pass for Punjabi heroines still leaves the men folk with weak knees and heightened libidos.

If this grotesque display of gross vulgarity is not bad enough there is always the inevitable rape scene which is often out numbering the miracles and the fights to the death. These rape scenes are filmed with great delight and find strong response from the all – male audiences that arrive at cinema houses around the country. If there is a country where women are down graded sex objects, it has to be Pakistan and the cinema is the perfect reflection of this disease. It should also be easy to understand that almost every such film is made for the men only as if the other half of the population does not exist. Anyone with any sensitivity – even one on a scale of ten would be embarrassed to see five minutes of this drivel. One cannot even begin to imagine what the women feel like. Mercifully they go to cinemas in very small numbers and those who are unlucky to be in the auditorium must cringe with embarrassment and shame each time these cheap and tardy images are put on the screens with vulgarity dripping from every corner. The men love it and that is all that seems to matter.

What is it about women that has the Pakistani males in such distress all year long? Why is everyone in a perpetual state of sinning? Why is it that the very sight of an ankle seems to send the men into swoons and get their blood racing ? Why is the sight of a woman – she may be as ugly as sin itself, drive men bananas ? It almost seems as if the Pakistani male is looking constantly for a way to commit sin, if not physically then at least with his heart and soul. In most countries, women would not necessarily receive the full attention and fire radiating staring that they do in Pakistan and yet they are expected to go out for work or even, heaven forbid, pleasure. That they continue to do so and continue to excel at jobs as and when they have an equal playing field, is a tribute to their inner strength and determination. While they have the resolve, all the men folk that you can think of seem to be constructed with very volatile and easily disturbed chunks of quivering jelly. That is why other than the 50 year old question of why we came into being, the second favourite remains the disturbing effect women have on men. Since it is a man’s world and his word is supreme, he is not expected to behave himself or control his most basic and lust – laden desires. Instead the women have to take the responsibility. They must look like bags of flour, be wrapped like Egyptian mummies, smell like a sewer and be as ugly as a log of wood with the same level of sex appeal. Were all the women of Pakistan able to reject their womanhood and become the logs of wood that will no longer tempt the men, it is unlikely that things will change because finding vulgarity and depravity is a matter of personal interpretation and while one man may see a hole in the wall and keep walking another may have a seizure and collapse with desire on the pavement.

The fact of the matter is that our public piety is a sham. The ones who shout from the pulpits and the ones who are the moral custodians of this confused country of a hundred and fifty million with at least half of them perpetually going crazy over the sight of flesh – any flesh, are the very ones who are responsible for the deplorable state of affairs where even the sight of two school girls cooking in a kitchen is enough for the soldiers of Islam to hurl bags of black paint. Unfortunately, they will never realize that all they are succeeding in blackening is the already blackened image of this country which is regarded as regressive and not worth visiting.