One of the many parallels to the chaos theory demonstrate how, even when everything goes terribly wrong, the result can be inherently ‘right’…for reasons that defy explanation. Such was the packed audience’s reaction to Production Illusion’s farce titled ‘Noises Off’ that opened at Al-hamra on August 5, 2010. The play was written by English playwright Michael Frayn in 1982, after he contemplated the nature of ‘backstage’ drama. According to the playwright, "It was funnier from behind than in front and I thought that one day I must write a farce from behind." Noises Off, thereby is a play within a play and being a farce rather than a comedy, it incorporates lots of physical humour and absurdity; add to that the vaudevillesque intermission music on loop and one is almost reminded of  a modern day Laurel and Hardy taking the stage amid slightly more chaos. Veteran thespian Omair Rana, the director of the play (both on, off and backstage) describes it in his forwarding note to be ‘singly the most difficult and hence humbling production he ever experienced.’ One can see why, given the scope of the quite literally ‘three-dimensional’ effort. An amazing rotating set, courtesy the vision of art director Ayesha Shuja and architect Mashhad Abbas almost serves the role of a ninth character in the production. In the first act of the play the actors carry on with the dress rehearsal a day before ‘Noises On’ opens. There are missed lines, dropped cues, doors that don’t open and other doors that don’t shut! The movements and lines are repetitive enough to be ‘laugh out loud’ funny rather than witty and the audience shares the experience of being ridiculed and scolded with the actors as a pre-opening night manic director Lloyd Dallas (Omair Rana) trumps through the hall shouting cues and making actors drop their props. Needless to say it all goes downhill from that point on. The plot goes something like this: An estate agent Roger, played by Garry Long in Noises Off (Ian Eldred) brings his mistress Vicky, played by Brooke Ashton (Zainab Ahmed) to woo her without realising that the property is also playing host to an array of ‘guests’ all of whom think they are either alone or ‘not there’. The housekeeper Mrs Clackett, played by Dotty Otley and Ayesha Alam Khan tries to juggle her visitors and house owners Phillip and Flavia Brent (Freddy Fellows played by Salman Naseer and Belinda Blai played by Mina Malik) returning from their Italian honeymoon to ‘dodge’ the revenue department. Of course no farce could be complete without an aging, oft-inebriated burglar ( Saad Masood). The entire first act is an exercise in comprehension for when the on again, off again ‘actors’ take the ‘backstage’ in the second act. In the second act we see the actors backstage about to go on for a matinee performance. Each of the actors struts on to the stage (off stage for us, the audience) to spurt their lines as props are misplaced by the assistant director Poppy Norton Taylor (Fazeelat Aslam). Stage cues are repeatedly mis-announced by the other assistant director (Nadir Shami) amid a series of lover’s spats, jealous boyfriends brawling it out, tears and Selsdon trying to get drunk. The play keeps falling apart both on and off stage until it falls to pieces in the final act. In the final act, the play is near the end of its run and the friction between the actors is fast approaching boiling point. There is much improvising, glorious gaffes, an impromptu wedding and forgotten cues, lines and props. It has become common practice for plays that take place in Pakistan to receive enormous praise rather than give ‘a critical review’ and this may well be because we, the audience are simply glad to have something to take our mind off everything else. However, in the case of Noises Off, there is little criticism to be had…the play, the farce and the performances all ‘worked’. Ian Eldred delivered roaring lines and fell on stage so spectacularly the audience often held their breath wondering if he had survived. Mina Malik’s saccharine ‘darlings’ and gossip tidbits were a delight, Ayesha Alam’s Dotty was genuinely dotty enough to be lovable and Salman Naseer’s perennial nosebleeds and procrastinating pauses into the ‘meaning behind his lines’ were endearing. But as is often the case, the show belonged mostly to Rana, who opened much of his lines with ‘And God said let them remember their lines’; ‘And God said let the popcorn leave the stage and the magazine be on the stage when required’. Rana has said that his greatest hope for this play is that people come to see it and start coming to the theatre again. “That’s all I want. Rehearsals for this play started with the gruesome bombings at Data Dabar and now it is opening with the airplane crash and floods…all we hope is to add some laughter to the gruesome mix that makes up our days.” 'Noises Off' was all about timing and it was timed to perfection, near enough so that when the cast took their final bow and the power went off the audience initially thought it part of the farce. But that was when God said “let there be laughter.”

Having first learned of the theatrical debut of ‘BirdCage’ in Lahore, I could not help but feel jubilation and mirth. A gay-themed play? I almost fainted with anticipation. This was something I was definitely going to watch. First things first. The producer Dawar Lashari, co-producers Waleed Zafar and Shaheryar Khan and director Ijlal Khan must not only be thanked for bringing us this light-hearted comedy amidst these insane times to our country, where one cannot switch to news channels without expecting another macabre breaking news, but also they should be lauded for their courage to even think of staging a gay-themed play. However, as sometimes happens, Birdcage turned out to be one of those productions which are anticipated with joy and mirth but leaves us with disappointment and heartbreak. Even if crtieria for judging the play was simply how many people it made laugh or how good the acting skills were,the play would still rank average. Although many jokes were spot on and were clear to the public, sometimes they stretched too long. This could not have been more apparent than in the very first scene where, Armand (Ijlal Khan),the co-owner of a gay club named ‘Birdcage’, is talking to his eccentric partner and co-owner of the club Albert (Ian Eldred). What started initially as a joke about bending gender roles, soon stretched out too long. Playing too much around the stereotypical images of gay people at first may have made the audience laugh but after repeated jokes along the same line, it atleast made me yawn a big one, (save for the acting of Waleed Zaidi.) While Ijlal Khan’s acting as Armand and that of Ian Eldred’s as Albert was par excellence,Waleed Zaidi (playing Agador Spartacus) simply stole the show and possibly even saved it. However,while these three were great in their art, the others just lagged behind. Ayesha Akram,playing Miranda, perhaps could not differentiate between the act of speaking loud enough (a theatrical requirement) and screaming in a high pitched voice - enough to irritate anyone. Muhammad Hayat, playing Garry, failed to deliver a commendable performance. With lack of real emotions in his acting he made it all look premeditated - just like the play. But wait till you would have seen the whole Bailey family! A. Shehzad Shah murdered the character of Senator Bailey with his performance of a teenager. The booklets awaiting the audience on our seats,inform us that Huriyeh Iftikhar received a standing ovation for ‘Anybody for Murder’. Perhaps it would have been better had she put in an iota of that same effort into playing the character of Mrs Bailey. The worst performance was that of Esha Khan, playing Elanour Bailey. Calista Flockhart, the actress playing Elanor in the film,would have had a cardiac arrest watching her role being turned into that of almost a mute extra, save for one or two  lines at most. To be just, it must be pointed out that perhaps most of these actors were on stage for the first or second time. It does not in any way seem excusable that a perfectly good gay-themed comedy should be wronged and murdered in such a way as to make all the wrong adaptations to the play and making none where they were needed. The worst change in the story was not that of changing the character of Garry to brother instead of son or that of Miranda as a mother for that matter but the change in the ending of Pakistani Birdcage. While the movie played around with stereotypes of gay people it did justice to the homosexual community. Why? In the end it did what homosexuals craved most even until the late 19990's when the movie came out: humanise them and their sexuality. That is exactly what the movie and the Broadway play did in the end when Garry takes the wig off Albert’s (who is posing as his mother because his real mom failed to be punctual) head, and announces to the Senator that Armand and Albert were leading what this play’s production team terms as ‘eccentric’ lifestyle (a slap in the face of Pakistani LGBT community) in the accompanying booklet and that they were indeed his real parents who raised him. What was the message of the film? That gay people are humans and can raise 'normal' children too. What did the Ijlal Khan and his team do? They totally changed the ending. A fuming Armand is tired of the whole cat and mouse game and starts to narrate the whole story to the Bailey family, including how Garry persuaded him to hide the truth. So after all the most important part of the whole story was cut out. The excuse is that it would have bothered homophobes is inane. All you could see in the audience were English speaking people from the elite or upper middle class. Besides, everyone there knew from word of mouth that Birdcage is a gay-themed play. The fact of the matter is that no matter what the excuse, people who have watched the movie or the Broadway play are going to make comparisons between them and this play. Perhaps if somebody would have enjoined the production team about this beforehand they would have done better. Add to this the hurt feelings of the lesbian, gay, bisexual, trans gender community in Pakistan. Some other queer friends and I stepped in to the theatre hoping the production would at least do justice to the movie. It went the other way round and we came back feeling like we had been slapped hard across our faces. The play caged was surely caged by homophobic undertones.

Ali Saleem’s interview with The Express Tribune serves to highlight a critical flaw in Pakistan’s entertainment industry. When asked if he intends to return to India, Saleem remarks that:

“Pakistan is plagued with problems and entertainment is not a priority there.”

The Harry Potter series has come a long way since the first book. The film adaptations have managed to stay true to J K Rowling's books and the latest film, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows - the  seventh in the series - tells the darker side of the that story audiences world over have come to love. The film takes us into the mind of Lord Voldemort, the darkest wizard of all time whom Harry must defeat by the end of his quest. Unlike previous films, there is no attempt to tone down the dark cruelty of the Death Eaters, (Voldemort's followers) ; we see Bellatrix (Helena Bonham Carter) torture Hermione Granger and Severus Snape (Alan Rickman) dominate the first few minutes of the film as an undercover Death Eater. Harry and his friends, Ron and Hermione are no longer at Hogwarts. Their relationships mature on their journey. We see differences creep in to Harry and Ron’s friendship and witness internal battles the friends have fought since the start. Romance also blooms in the film as Harry and Ginny grow closer. It is the simplicity of the film that makes it so good. As far as adaptations go, it isn't always necessary to follow every line of the book you're filming as long as the director is confident that he can do it better. In this case no fancy alterations are made to an already great story; the original punch lines have been retained but director David Yates has brought a special flavour The Deathly Hallows - as he does with all his films. Some of the best scenes are the scariest. For example the scene where Harry goes back to his childhood home to meet the famous historian witch Bathilda Bagshot, author of A History of Magic. Wreathed in a backdrop of darkness, Bathilda’s appearance brings forth a frightening outcome in the film. Her house, her strangled whispers and the discovery of the serpent Nagini are frightening sequences. This particular scene had some kids in the cinema hiding under their seats in fear - now that is true success! Another memorable scene is the broom chase in the beginning of the film. The chase included Death Eaters chasing Harry and Hagrid and did not disappoint. The Deathly Hallows has been appreciated by critics. The decision to split the film adaptation of the final book in to two parts proves to be correct. A disappointing part of the film were Dobby's last words in the final scenes. Loyal house-elf Dobby's comes to a singularly unpleasant end in one of saddest scenes of the series. As Harry, the 'boy who lived' digs a grave for another one of his friends he decides which course to take in the future and the film comes to a grim close.

Khamosh Kalam, a production of Laaltain – the IVS performing arts society – won the blue ribbon at the Youth Theatre Festival arranged by the Youth Affairs Ministry in collaboration with the Arts Council. The play is a mime that deals with the creative struggle of a writer as he crafts the perfect anecdote. I spoke with the scriptwriters and directors, Zehra Nawab (Foundation year student, IVS) and Arsal Hasan (Second year student, IVS) who discuss the challenges of theatre art in Pakistan. How did the idea for Khamosh Kalam come about? Khamosh Kalam was derived from a question that often surfaced in our minds about how characters feel when the writer who created them destroys them by simply destroying his/her writing. It was this basic thought that primarily became the central idea of our play. We showed four simple stories penned by a writer and tried to explore the process through which he created all these different roles. In each act the audience sees the characters develop an existence of their own and a particular connection with the writer. But the writer holds them in brutal disregard by destroying his stories before they can reach a conclusion. It was interesting to delve in to how an artist has the responsibility to complete the creative process that he started for the sake of creative endeavor. Why did you choose mime? When we thought of writing a play, we began to think on the lines of putting together something which would be different. So, we decided to do a mime, because we thought that this was a mode of theatrical express was relatively unexplored by students at our school. This not only made it an interesting play to write, but an interesting play to watch due to its novelty. What were some of the challenges you faced while writing the script? The greatest challenge is writing the script itself! Khamosh Kalam had no dialogue and was a mime based on eastern classical music, so to articulate the mood of each scene and the personality of every character in order for it to be performed on stage was a cumbersome task. Depicting the role of each character was undoubtedly challenging. But we were working with such dedicated individuals that this process was made so much easier. Not only did each one of the actors understand their roles well, they took the liberty to develop their characters too which was absolutely great. What, in your opinion, are the strengths of Khamosh Kalam? Novelty - the interplay between the acting, the music and the lighting worked quite well for us. In a mime, it is primarily the expressions of the actors that takes the play forward, so we feel that our acting was one of our biggest strengths because to articulating emotions without using words is impossible to do if the expressions aren’t strong enough. Do you feel theatre is a dying art in Pakistan? Drama is reviving, not dying. It was dormant for a few years but right now it experiencing a revival. People are learning to appreciate it as an art form.  No one would deny good entertainment, and since some excellent plays are being brought to theaters the drama culture is being enriched! It’s the responsibility of the theater groups and production houses to ensure that they sustain this revival and continue to bring people back to drama. The audience is there, they just need good quality theatrical productions to watch and enjoy. What are your plans for Khamosh Kalam? We plan to use Khamosh Kalam as our small contribution to sustain the revival of theater. After participating in the competition, we realized that ultimately it all narrows down to the plot and characterization. Lack of experience isn’t really a hurdle at all. So yes, Khamosh Kalam has allowed us to think bigger, and to never limit our scope because everything is attainable if we truly garner our efforts towards it. One day, we’d like to make this mime our voice for an international audience. Khamosh Kalam a play without a language barrier, it’s a play which speaks about such a universal concept of creativity and it’s a play that we feel can be our contribution towards showing the world the wonderful artistic side of Pakistan.

A man admitted today to being taken entirely by surprise two days ago. He had bought the ticket for a theatre performance at Alhamra but on entering the darkened hall, found it resonating with chants for revolution. He says he paused and then reluctantly exited the hall, only to be assured by a bystander that the activity at the hall was not political and that it was indeed a theatre performance. The play is about Bhagat Singh and the slogan now belongs to history though contemporary politics may have no use for it. The times we are talking about were the days when the movement for a free India was at its peak. Revolution was the primary slogan at every Congress rally. But raising slogans was as far as Congress would go. Then a real revolutionary emerged on the scene, made a splash with a tiny group of supporters and soon marched to the gallows, graduating to a legend. Bhagat Singh, the young man, was born in a Sikh family of Lyallpur. Growing up, he first foreswore religion, then joined the National College set up by Lala Lajpat Rai at Bradlaugh Hall. Bhagat Singh has been a legend but for decades his mention in Lahore was limited to somebody stopping some day at Shadman Chowk and remembering that this was the place where he was executed. Then some people started whispering how it was that Lahore had all but forgotten one of its heroes. One thing led to another and Shahid Mahmood Nadeem wrote the play Mera Rang Dey Basanti Chola. It has now been performed at the Art Council under Madeeha Gohar’s direction. The play is slightly unusual. There is a thunderous ‘Long Live the Revolution’. The rest is poetry, mostly folk poetry celebrating the Bhagat Singh legend. Now and then an Urdu couplet: Sarfroshi ki tamanna ab hamaray dil mein hai; dekhna hai zaur kitna bazoo-i-qatil mein hai. (Sacrifice for freedom is now on our minds; let’s see how effective our murderous oppressor can still be.) Strange are the ways some verses gain phenomenal popularity. Often people carried away by one don’t even care about the poet. The job of identifying him is left to researchers. In this case it was Sukhdev Prashad Bismil Allahabadi. As they say, the muse can be quite whimsical. The couplet ended up being the motto of Bhagat Singh’s group. In his foreword, Nadeem has mentioned that Bhagat Singh was quite addicted to poetry and that he particularly liked Iqbal. What was the harm then in letting one of Iqbal’s verses into the play? Strange that while so many critics who talked about revolution read fascism into Iqbal’s poetry, the one actual revolutionary read it otherwise and was inspired by it. One of the songs is called ‘Ghori’ (mare). Nadeem says a Lahori tongawalla had written and first read it standing in his tonga on the first anniversary of Bhagat Singh’s execution. The songs are sung by a choir and create an atmosphere. The play has no real plot. It is just a large-scale expression of a revolutionary passion. The kind of sentiment is not easy to evoke through a prose narrative. Poetry helps overcome this difficulty. The slogans raised now and then add their own magical effect. Some slogans are bound to prove more evocative than others. This was a time in India’s history when people speaking very diverse languages were together in demanding freedom. Their differences had yet not reached the exclusion stage. ‘Long Live the Revolution’ did not belong to a particular party. Also note how a verse so dominated by Persian and Arabic phrases trumped slogans in local languages because it best captured and expressed the grassroots sentiment. *Translated from Urdu Published in The Express Tribune  

From the men who gave the theatres a full house with "Le Cages Aux Folle", "Run For Your Wife" and "Chicago" comes an entertaining play packed with a spectrum of tangible emotions. Staged at the Arts Council Karachi from the September 7 to 24, "Lovengers" is LUSH’s first Urdu play. "Lovengers" is produced by the renowned duo Usama Qazi and Shahzad Qureshi, sponsored by JS Bank and co-sponsored by Tapal Danedar, EFU Life, Alkaram Studio and National Fruitily. With reputations preceding these names, the bar is set very high and "Lovengers" just makes the leap with wonderful music and dance performances. The play incorporates a professional live band which combines sounds from guitars, violins, drums and keyboards to bring the 60s and 70s back to life. All actors are singing live, and splendidly so, considering none of them are professional actors or singers, but have made a valiant effort to fill the shoes of renowned singers such as Nazia Hassan. The songs are authentically choreographed with respect to the era depicted and never fail to maintain a visual balance on stage. The first song "Dil Kia Karay", performed by Omi Butt and Zarmeena Yusuf, is beautifully choreographed, creating that one magical moment in the play you cannot forget. The colour-splashed sets, designed by Naheed Ali, in compliance with the retro theme complement the volatile atmosphere of the play. Complete use of space has been made with four entry points and a balcony to ensure the audience remains captivated - not that the beautiful costumes allow us to take our eyes of these actors in any case! Shoulders draped in cardigans, shiny white dress shoes, silk shirts with ruffles - the costumes successfully take us back to the disco decades. Although successful in conveying the time period, the ensemble were neither very luxurious nor unique and failed to enhance the characters or the plot. The play is neither an existing theatrical piece nor the adaptation of one. The original script written by Saqib Sumeer gives life to some very amusing characters but I believe it has a disastrous plot with a very disappointing ending. The central plot is the shooting of a film on a hospital floor financed by an underworld don who aims to convert his black money into white money. However, each central character adds their own sub plot to the play, creating one plot with one too many sub plots that do nothing good, unfortunately. The sub plots stop midway and do not fuse together as the play proceeds to a culmination. For example, the assistant director Joji takes his job for the love of his life love Julie and yet Julie doesn’t have a single dialogue in the play! The couple playing Heer Ranjha in the film glance at each other with bashful longing in one scene in the play but their love blooms no further. Leaving stories hanging as so comes across as absurd and just leaves one with a feeling of unease. The film in the play is being shot in the rented floor of a hospital but we are never told why. After spending two hours watching the characters in the play shoot a movie, we suddenly see a politician march in there to have a rally. A five-line fight erupts between the don and the politician and everyone is shot dead. The end. "Lovengers" has a plot that leaves much to be desired. It is outstanding acting alone shines through to save this play. The play unveils the untapped talents of Pakistanis, both young and old. This talent is most transparent in the outstanding performances of Saqib Sumeer and Yazzi Nishazi. Saqib plays the incredible character of Aamil Must Bengali with such authenticity that he could make a fortune sitting outside any mazaar (shrine) he desired. His witty dialogue delivery can make the most sombre man smile. Yazzi playing Samandar Khan depicted the stereotypical image of Pathan men with perfection. From the bejewelled naara to the Pathani Urdu, he had it all with grace and was believable. All the actors and dancers managed to hold the play together despite the disappointing script. The verdict: If you are looking to pass a few hours laughing and singing, go. However, if you seek a mind stimulating comedy, "Lovengers" is not for you! Read more by Mawish here. Join us on Facebook for blog updates and more!

To the neighsayers (warning: some awful horse puns) who claim that Pakistani plays can’t stay the course, I give you The Man on a Black Horse.  Running at T2F, formerly known as The Second Floor, in Karachi, Pakistan, The Man on a Black Horse is a highly energetic piece of theatre which accomplishes what few other live performances in Pakistan have: it doesn’t suck. Written and directed by Rouvan Mahmud and Ali Junejo (the duo are also two of the three performers in the play), the performance tells the tale of two soldiers, Sal (Rouvan) and Rumi (Ali). These characters, through the memories of an enigmatic woman they both loved named Lisa (Meher Jaffri), contemplate their actions in a guilt ridden mixture of denial and remorse, as they slowly progress down the path of madness. The narrative is told in three movements; reality; madness; and revelation, and the overall tone of the play is quite bleak, featuring some dark humour as well. To watch The Man on a Black Horse you must pony up Rs1,000, which is twice as much as the cost of a movie ticket, but is certainly worth the fee, because the show has all the elements that make such a live event worthwhile. The performance takes place entirely in a small cage, and is surrounded in an intimate setting by the audience to create an atmosphere that makes the narrative all the more compelling. What is especially impressive is how quickly the performers manage to get their set ready in between acts, which are punctuated by several seconds of complete darkness. Also impressive are the acting chops for all three players, with all three having dramatic bits strong enough to raise goose bumps. Rouvan, who plays the ‘pretty but slow’ soldier, is mostly convincing, especially when his character Sal starts to lose his marbles. There is a particularly chilling segment where Sal gives to a superior officer in sickening detail an account of how he committed the rape of a young girl. It was a well-played moment which evoked audible gasps from the viewing members of the audience. But while it was shocking, it was also necessary in understanding the character. Ali and Meher are also mostly consistent, though they unfortunately take the cheaper route of screaming for dramatic effect far too often in The Man on a Black Horse. While all three actors displayed good emotional range, I feel that they can take a lesson from great theatre actors that are able to deliver powerful impact with subtle changes in facial expressions. Meher also had segments where she sang English numbers, though with all that screaming, it is a wonder her throat didn’t go horse… err... hoarse. Facing the limitations of only three performers, cleverly, the three actors in The Man on a Black Horse adopt English accents, as opposed to American ones for the main characters, when playing supporting roles, in order to differentiate characters. Here, I was struck as to why obviously Pakistani actors were playing English and American characters, when the nationalities and politics in The Man on a Black Horse weren’t so clearly defined. Further confusing was the final act of the piece, where I frankly didn’t understand the ‘revelation’ passage of play. Though I suppose I should get back on the saddle, and go in for another viewing. Even though the play started twenty minutes late, overall, the production for The Man on a Black Horse went off without a hitch. Once on stage, the actors displayed some great energy that added to the matchless experience of enjoying a play. At the end of the performance, Ali requested that the audience spread the word about the play, if only to support the art of theatre in Pakistan. That’s not necessary Ali, The Man on a Black Horse can stand on its own four legs. PHOTOS: NADIR SIDDIQUI/PUBLICITY Read more by Noman here or follow him on Twitter @Pugnate

The chance to watch the most awaited play in the theatrical history of Karachi came to me by the sheer luck of getting some free passes, as Rs1500 for a ticket seemed too steep a price. I was greeted by an excited crowd that had gathered even before the gates opened. There was palpable excitement in the air. Everyone was hoping for a worthy show that could make them relive their old memories. Being a die-hard fan of Aangan Terrha and having almost rote-learned the entire show - thanks to the presence of old DVDs in the house - I was sceptical about whether my expectations would be met or not. The auditorium was jam-packed with people even sitting on the stairs. The ushers were smartly dressed in kurta pajama and saris that set the ambiance for the show perfectly. Anwar Maqsood came on the stage just as the clock struck 8:00pm and gave a preamble to the re-adaptation of the show. The curtains were raised to Akbar humming playfully on the stairs and gradually other characters emerged in the 90-minute whirlwind of wit, satire and social comment. Was Aangan Terrha entertaining? Yes. Did Aangan Terrha outlive its predecessor? No. Akbar played by Yasir Hussain: Akbar was, and remains, the highlight of the play. It was a treat to watch his expressions and delivery of dialogue which resonated with Salim Nasir perfectly. His characteristic mimicry, mannerisms and gestures made it worth the watch. Throughout the 90-minute play, he remained the embodiment of tanz-o-mazah (satire) that was the hallmark of his character. He brought the audience laughs, irony, moments of reflection and tears, because you just couldn’t watch the play without remembering Salim Nasir. It is surely hard to step in to the shoes of a giant, and Yasir Hussain not only did that but also managed to skilfully get into the soul of the character. Jehan Ara played by Hareem Farooq: Jehan Ara was entertaining too, but no way at par with Bushra Ansari. Hareem’s delivery of dialogues did not reflect the changes in situation well. The character of Jehan Ara contains many shades - the grumpy wife who is dissatisfied at her luck in life, the suspecting wife whose radars are up for detecting any affairs her husband might have, and the subtle shade of a loving woman who secretly cares for Akbar and her husband. The portrayal fell just a bit short of the mark however, the effort was great. Mehboob Ahmed played by Talal Jilani: Mehboob sahib fell abysmally short of expectations. In the actual play, Mehboob Ahmed is a perfect embodiment of culture and refinement -- what you call “chalti phirti tehzeeb”  in Urdu. This attribute is missing in the present Mehboob Ahmed, probably due to his coarse voice. Some old characters resurface in the play, including Sahafi and Shair (reminding one sorely of Moin Akhtar). Some new additions are introduced as well, like a morning show host Mehbooba. The ambience: The sets - also done by the multi-talented Yasir Hussain - gelled in perfectly with the play’s script. The house reflected its owner’s simplicity and understated lifestyle. The power of the script and intensity of the drama did not bore audience for a second despite the single set and few characters. The play remains brilliant as it was. The dosage of heavy Urdu is reduced, probably to accommodate new sensibilities. In the actual play, even Chaudhry sahib recites perfect Ghalib verses which sound funny due to his way of pronunciation. In the new play, Chaudhry Sahab’s couplets are laden with mispronunciation, in a way to introduce humorous appeal. Besides, ambiguous, suggestive sentences have definitely increased a lot since the last play. The fusion of the old and new indeed made for a great theatrical experience. The play’s unparalleled success also tells us that if a script has relevance and content, it could survive without unnecessary dramatics, songs and cheap tactics. It is good to see that although the Aangan is still Terrha, our youth is creative and entrepreneurial enough to make it livable. PHOTOS: PUBLICITY Read more by Samreen here 

I was at a Strings concert a few days ago. It was one of those fancy sit down affairs, with hideous white sofas and people taking selfies of each other to upload on social media. Bilal Maqsood began singing “mera bichra yaar” and the LCD screens behind him played a very old video from the 1990s. It was then that it hit me. Suddenly I wasn’t nodding and smiling politely to the music, but in a half built amphitheatre, I was screaming as the crème de la crème of the urban rock phenomena in Pakistan belted out their numbers. https://twitter.com/tribuneblogs/status/403134229497659392 The memory of the past is still so fresh. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="600"] Strings give a series of riveting performances in seven cities. Photo: Publicity[/caption] Yes, there was such a time in this city when concerts had a wild passion in them. One wonders why such an aesthetically vibrant era was over so soon. Just think about it; it’s not like the 90’s were a time of peace in this city; there was always ethnic strife and small proxy wars going on in Karachi’s ghettos back then as well. So then what was keeping it all at bay? Was it because back then, Pakistan’s developing music industry had realised its potential and was on its way up? Perhaps they had more opportunities to gain sponsors, which are harder to find now? Or maybe people appreciated music more back then than they do now? I think none of these are true. With the music scene in Pakistan at a more mature stage and sponsorships being available, not just locally but in our neighbouring country as well, it cannot be a money issue. Also, it cannot be an issue of talent suddenly dissipating from our society because one listen of any episode of Coke Studio will tell you that we have ample talent. Obviously the phenomenal success of Coke Studio and some 20 odd FM channels tells us that Pakistanis love music in every shape and form, and I am not just speaking of the more endowed strata of society. The most musically attuned Pakistanis will be found in our masses, who break into song and dance whenever possible, even while performing tasks in urban or rural settings! [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="600"] Ahmad Ali Butt revs up the crowd at a local concert. Photo: File[/caption] I distinctly remember, during my school days, when we would see the simple but colourful posters of concerts happening in venues like the Arts Council. We would save up money to be able to witness musicians like the Vital Signs or Aamir Zaki play and they made us believe in a Pakistan devoid of the negativity surrounding it even in that day and age. These were no-frill venues with people sitting on stone steps most of the time; tickets were cheap and everyone, regardless of class or background, could go and enjoy the music. Yes, fights broke out then too, but they never managed to impact the mad rush at the gates. Pakistani spirit was high and everyone wanted in on the fun. The air in Karachi was festive despite the political turmoil. This was our break from everything sad and gloomy. It was a way for us to break free of the darkness engulfing the city, without having to leave the country. We knew that the next day, the rat-race would begin once again, but we also understood the importance of such events to the sanity of our citizens. We would gather at the request of anything, from ‘kidney centre organised walk for a cause’ to a simple carnival or flower show. We took whatever we could get and in return we provided our very own musicians the encouragement they needed to work harder and strive for better. But where did those glory days go? [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="600"] A crowd cheer during a concert in Karachi. Photo: AFP[/caption] Why are our children being made to live in a bubble? Why are they stopped from meeting their friends or attending any sort of theatre or performances even now? The first thing that comes to mind is the cost and secondly, our own mentality acting as the biggest barrier between our kids and simple entertainment. Event organisers need to understand that it isn’t just ‘top performances’ that will attract crowds. People will come for anything good if the ticket prices are reasonable. Once these events soar, top artists and performers will reduce their prices as well. If nothing else, it will be for the sheer energy that one can draw from a spirited crowd. When it comes to our mentality, we need to stop thinking of the worst consequence in every possible scenario. Yes, we live in a volatile environment but that doesn’t mean that every time there is a play or concert, we should avoid going for the fear of being ‘targeted’. Can you give up your job just because you are scared you will not make it back alive? No, you can’t. In the same way that a job is a necessity, so are breaks. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="600"] A concert featuring Noori and Karavan, along with some underground bands was held in Karachi. Photo: Publicity[/caption] Plus,  for those who still fear the worst, there are many small scale performances that take place too, for example, T2F (The Second Floor) puts up acts and musical performances every week! The point, I am trying to make, is that we are becoming increasingly limited as a society on entertainment options and we have no one to blame but ourselves. We either eat out, and any doctor will tell you how many of us are suffering due to that pastime, or we crib and complain. We have to be able to let go and have a little fun. It’s alright, nay healthy even, for a teenager to wait and count the days until they can see their favourite band play live. That is the whole point of growing up in a city like Karachi where all the cultures of this nation are fused together in a melting pot. We need let go of all the negativity, hate and constant judging, and just realise that it’s completely fine to have fun. I would genuinely like to see my kids growing up and enjoying the full spectrum of life this city can provide; the same city that I enjoyed my childhood years in. How do you want your child’s future to be? Seeing and experiencing the world through first hand or living off of whatever second hand portrayal they can get from those who lived here in the past?

I would choose to watch a good theatre play over a movie any day. The choice becomes even easier when the play happens to be Anwar Maqsood’s. His plays are simply a treat to watch, especially after a long shift at work. I became familiar with theatre in Karachi when I started working for a TV channel and got my hands on free passes for a musical. And boy, was I glad that I did. The venue turned out to be incredibly crowded and I could only find a place to sit on the stairs, which I ever-so-happily accepted. By the end of those 90 minutes, all that mattered was that I had gotten an opportunity to watch an absolutely rib-tickling play which left my jaws hurting. No, I am not kidding, it was really that funny. Having been born in the late 80s, I had only heard about the ‘great’ TV shows from the 80s and early 90s – shows like Aangan Terrha, Haaf Playt or 50/50. My mother had always raved about these shows and when I started working at the TV channel, my senior colleagues could not stop talking about them either. I had ignored my mother’s praise for these shows all these years because well, she is my mother. But my colleagues’ apparent admiration and recommendation was enough to make me want to get DVDs of the shows immediately. However, before I could do that someone told me about Haaf Playt – a theatre play based on the original drama and I thought I would give it a try. And I am so glad that I did. Written by Anwar Maqsood and directed by Dawar Mehmood, Haaf Playt is a very well-paid tribute to Moin Akhtar, Khalida Riyasat, Latif Kapadia and Jamshed Ansari. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="600"] Although the actors are young and not as experienced as our legendary actors, their performance was delightful. Photo: File[/caption] Although the actors are young and perhaps, not as experienced as our legendary actors, their performance was simply delightful. The constant hubbub of laughter and claps inside the theatre as well as the well-deserved applause at the end of the play, was a testimony to the audience’s enjoyment. I was not only impressed but simply awe-struck since there was not a single flaw in their acting, coordination or timing. Haaf Playt is based on a husband-wife relationship, where the wife constantly complains about their poor financial condition and urges the husband to find a better job than being a columnist for a newspaper. It is quite obvious that being an author or journalist and that too for an Urdu newspaper is not very lucrative and thus, does not amount to much in ‘modern’ times. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="600"] Haaf Playt is based on a husband-wife relationship, where the wife constantly complains about their poor financial condition. Photo: File[/caption] This seems ironically amusing when you think how Anwar Maqsood uses the Urdu language with such finesse in his plays. His dialogues seemed to fall on my ears like Bach’s symphony – such was their beauty.  This, combined with the humour element in the play, just made it an even better experience and I was left wiping away tears of laughter. Be warned that the humour is a little ‘out there’ but then, we were all adults there and could laugh it off in good faith. As with all Anwar Maqsood’s plays, the story of the nagging wife and the carefree husband is sprinkled with satire based on the current situation of Pakistan. I find that these jokes never get old and in fact, it helps make an otherwise dismal situation a tad amusing, even if it is temporary. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="600"] Anwar Maqsood's plays are a treat to watch. Photo: Publicity[/caption] I cannot help but share some dialogues from the play here. This is a conversation between the whiny wife, Bano, and her happy-go-lucky husband, Iftikhar:

“Shaadi ka laya hua aadha samaan ja chuka hai!” (Half the dowry that I brought has gone.) “Quaid-e-Azam ka diya hua aadha Pakistan bhi ja chuka hai!” (Half of the Pakistan that Quaid-e-Azam gave us has gone too.)

“Jab mamoon jaan Canada aye thay tou bata rahay thay tumharay halaat kuch theek nahi.” (When uncle visited Canada, he told us that you are not doing so well.) “Woh saaray Pakistanion ki baat kar rahay ho gein.” (He must be talking about all Pakistanis.)

“All hail Caesar”

I went to watch this movie with little expectation, quite frankly. I was dragged into the movie theatre with reassurances from my friends that this was the “movie of the summer”. I quickly took out my phone and Googled the movie, cringing at the prospect of sitting stationery for two hours. I tried my best to come up with a believable excuse to get out of it but all efforts proved futile. [embed width="620"]http://vimeo.com/87176451[/embed] One thing was for sure: a movie featuring Dave Batista and Vin Diesel would undoubtedly be a train wreck. Chris Pratt, for me, was going to be this film’s only saving grace. But how wrong I was in my presumptions! Walking out of the cinema I had a massive smile on my face, because Guardians of the Galaxy exceeded my every expectation. Undoubtedly, this was the bravest project that Marvel has taken on in recent times. The guidelines by which Marvel played was chucked out the window with Guardians of the Galaxy; for the first time they dared to make a movie based on characters not prevalent in mainstream culture. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="600"] Photo: Guardians of the Galaxy Facebook Page[/caption] James Gunn had the mammoth task of bringing to life and interest virtually unknown characters; he was essentially following up previous juggernauts with an indie film. What transpired, however, is a movie that is witty, devoid of cheesy dialogue and characters that complement each other splendidly. The protagonist, Peter Quill, (played by the lovable Chris Pratt) is an instantly likeable character; his wit and humour are not unlike the ones fans of Park and Recreations are used to. I did have my reservations of seeing him as a lead; to me he seemed as an actor most potent on the fringes, I thought it would be almost uncomfortable to see him sink his teeth into a lead role. However, my reservations proved to be baseless as the role of Peter Quill fit him like a glove; what followed was a protagonist who was funny and instantly relatable. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="600"] Photo: Guardians of the Galaxy Facebook Page[/caption] Bradley Cooper has been overlooked for too long; his performance as Rocket was bang on target. The one-liners by Rocket was what kept the movie going along seamlessly and the chemistry between the characters (human or Computer Generated Imagery-CGI) was commendable. The special effects were breath-taking, admittedly not on the level of say, Avatar; Guardians of the Galaxy still packs a strong enough punch. However, one criticism for the character of Peter Quill is that, at times, he lacked a sense of originality. As mentioned above, I was still used to seeing Andy Dwyer in a sci-fi action film, rather than the actor, Chris Pratt. Furthermore, one way that the Guardians of the Galaxy can be a problem to some people is the time it takes to establish the characters. Unlike The Avengers, groundwork needed to be laid down of every character, because for the majority of the audience, the heroes were unrecognisable. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="600"] Photo: Guardians of the Galaxy Facebook Page[/caption] This took a large chunk of the film early on, and if you are someone who lacks patience while watching a movie, this aspect of Guardians of the Galaxy could be off-putting for you. All in all, Guardians of the Galaxy – although way outside of Marvel’s comfort zone – still works like a charm. The on-screen chemistry from the characters, including a commendable effort from Zoe Saldana and Dave Batista keep the movie entertaining. It doesn’t have a serious and self-indulgent script and it doesn’t pretend to be something that it is not. The movie is witty, with enough laugh-out-loud moments and on-screen chemistry; it makes you overlook its almost cavalier storytelling and character development. It is definitely a movie to watch.

For hundreds of Kashmiri families whose relatives – mostly sons or husbands – have been subjected to custodial disappearances, the struggle for justice is, in many ways, a battle between memory and forgetfulness. They insist they won’t give up their fight; they won’t forget; and they won’t forgive. Among many other serious crimes committed against humanity in disputed Jammu and Kashmir, the Indian government forces are also accused of subjecting between 8,000 to 10,000 Kashmiris to enforced custodial disappearance since the eruption of popular armed uprising against Indian rule in restive Himalayan region in 1989. During a press conference in 2008, the state government led by Chief Minister Omar Abdullah admitted the number of those people who have disappeared in Jammu and Kashmir was 4,000. But the government also claims that many of those listed as disappeared may have crossed over to the other side of the Line of Control (LOC) – the de facto border dividing two parts of Kashmir – to receive ‘arms training’ in Muzaffarabad to fight India. India and Pakistan have fought two full-fledged wars over disputed Kashmir in 1947-48, 1965 and a mini-war in 1998, which is also remembered as the Kargil War. Both nuclear countries claim the disputed Himalayan region of Kashmir in full but have administered it in parts since 1947. Pakistan celebrates September 6 as Defence Day (Youm-e-Difa) to commemorate sacrifices of her soldiers who lost their lives defending Lahore and Sialkot in the Indo-Pak war of 1965, also known as the Second Kashmir War. There was a time in Kashmir when elderly people would make wills on their death beds and advise their progeny to hoist Pakistani flags on their tombstones and graves once Kashmir merged with Pakistan. The percentage of such pro-Pakistani people in disputed Kashmir has dwindled since, as more voices are raised in favour of the region’s complete independence after the anti-India uprising erupted in 1989. International Day of the Disappeared The Jammu and Kashmir Coalition of Civil Society (JKCSS) and Association of Parents of Disappeared Persons (APDP) commemorated International Day of the Disappeared in Srinagar, the capital of Indian-administered Jammu and Kashmir separately. The APDP organised a sit-in protest against hundreds of enforced disappeared persons while the JKCCS organisers staged a play on the same theme and young Kashmiris recited poems to draw attention to a burning issue in the Kashmir valley. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="600"] Families and relatives of those Kashmiris subjected to custodial disappearances since 1989-90. Photo: Javed Dar[/caption] August 30 is observed as International Day of the Disappeared worldwide.

“In this struggle for justice we are not alone. Several movements across the globe have been raising their voice for the victims of enforced disappearances. Like us, many families have organised themselves in Philippines, Indonesia and Thailand,” the APDP chairperson Parveena Ahangar said in Srinagar.

“Who has time for thinking? Come to the point – [say] what you actually want to say”.

“I’m the one who I always have been. I’m a Kashmiri. And obviously when I’m a Kashmiri, I would have come from any corner of Kashmir, and I belong to Kashmir.”

“Age is not on your side to go for long journeys”, says the boy.

“What is in the box you’re carrying?”

“It contains my identity. Not only mine, but yours too. Also of many others.” “There are many messages in this,” the man adds.

“I hope I didn’t take too long to return,” says the old man.

“Are you sure, are you aware, and ready, for this long journey?” asks the old man.

“And like you, I’m also the witness.” “Be te Chus Shahid”.

“Tell me where you had gone, who called you?” “I was called by the one who had entrusted me with this responsibility as I did with you,” replies the old man.

“Yes, I’m the witness. Be te Chus Shahid”, the boy replies.

“Tell us (Kashmiris) where they committed such crimes, when they did it, how they did it, and also possibly tell us why they did it”.

Jutt and Bond was where most of us first saw Fawad Afzal Khan. He was a skinny, lanky, clean shaven guy with bangs. Soon after, we were surprised to see him as the lead singer of Entity Paradigm (EP), a Pakistani nu metal band, with his husky, soulful voice and that pained musician look. That was when we, the female population of Pakistan, said to one another,

“Hey, this guy’s not bad looking.”

“Woah”

“Hayeee”

“Khoobsurat is sweet, benign, and bland.”

“He didn't do real kissing because he is Pakistani.”

If you’ve lived in Karachi, you’re sure to have heard the complaint about there being a lack of entertainment options in the city. Eating out represents the obvious choice for entertainment but there is always the “and now what do we do?” question that hangs in the air after the meal. It’s too early to go home and unfortunately the debate about ‘what next’ rarely moves beyond dessert options. The thought of why there aren’t more regular entertainment options in our city has been annoying me for a while now. If one looks at the thriving theatre industry or the packed cinema halls over the weekend, there is certainly a lot of demand but then why aren’t other performers seeking to fill this void? Back in February, Saad Haroon did a fantastic comedy tour of the country. While I was sitting in the audience, I remember thinking that all he needed was a microphone to put on a fantastic, sold-out show. Inspired by Saad and convinced that laughter was exactly what us, frustrated Karachites, needed, a few amateur lovers of comedy, and I, decided to try to host at least one comedy show a month. The initial thought was terrifying as stand up comedy involves a solo performance, which means rejection cannot get more personal. But back then, the prospect of quick fame – and even the juvenile thought of getting some female fans – was a better motivator than fear. To date, we’ve been persevering on little more than passion, but after two well received shows (and one very disappointing one), we were pleasantly surprised when another group hosted a show. With yet another comedy show at the end of the month, the thought has crossed my mind whether this is proof of an emerging, albeit nascent, Karachi comedy scene. So I thought I’d speak to other performers about the obstacles preventing this fledgling, live comedy scene from taking flight. Art of public speaking One significant challenge is getting hold of performers who aren’t daunted by public speaking. New performers panic at the thought of not being found funny and so those with a knack for noticing the comical in the commonplace prefer to stay in the background, writing articles or playing with Photoshop. Akbar Chaudhry, a key figure behind the LOL Waalay troupe who has been doing comedy full time since February 2014, adds that a career in the arts is still looked down upon. At the moment, the majority of performers are theatre actors who are between projects and students with free time. But the ability to attract a steady stream of talent that is willing to persevere remains a challenge. In this light, both Akbar and Junaid Akram, who is part of the Dubai stand up scene and prolific on social media, point to the limited scope for comedians to test jokes in an understanding environment like an open mic night. Both stress that paid shows are not the right platform to experiment. With there being only two venues in Karachi that organise such events on an ad hoc basis, the frustration of waiting for such an opportunity, coupled with the fear of failure, means that many have given up stand up prematurely. The next challenge is content. Junaid adds that performers need to be able to address family friendly topics. While he believes stand up can be a refreshing and entertaining way to discuss social issues, taboo topics such as religion and sex can ruin the atmosphere. Both he and Akbar agree that more mentoring is required to help amateurs understand audience tastes. This is a significant problem as there are only a handful of professionals pursuing comedy fulltime. Unfortunately, this means that very important skills about holding a crowd’s attention remain undeveloped. Attracting audience Another major challenge is of attracting an audience. A humorous show like Aangan Terrha managed to run packed houses for over 100 shows not only because its content was accessible to everyone, but because it had a star name: Anwar Maqsood. Salman Shamim, who organised his first stand up show in June 2011, is aware of how hard it can be to attract a decent crowd. Salman, who is behind a number of viral YouTube videos, hosted a show on the fourth day of Eid which wasn’t well-attended. Commenting on the challenges of organising such an event, he mentioned that it’s important for shows to be on the weekend and for marketing to be a priority. While Facebook represents a great and cost effective means to market events, he adds that one needs well-connected contacts and outdoor marketing to bring in the crowds. This is clearly a major issue as I’m often told that people had no idea a show was happening. Financial viability The need to invest in marketing and advertising bring us to the next concern: financial viability. Without a star headlining the show, it becomes risky to book a large venue. Worse still, it means the ticket price needs to be concessionary. There are thankfully a few venues that require ticket sales to be shared 50/50 with performers. This is great as it means organisers cannot lose money. However, larger venues require booking fees that can be as high as Rs40,000 per show. While Akbar concedes that venue booking costs are an obstacle, he believes that if a sponsor covers the booking fee, the show can make financial sense. There is unfortunately another challenge that pertains to monetary matters. Since a number of performers are often needed to put up regular shows, when the amount is divided there is often just a small four figure sum left to be shared. Again, this puts the onus on the performer to stay committed to improving in the hope of greater financial rewards later. Finally, there is another problem that many are unwilling to talk about. We’re fortunate in Pakistan as there are no government licenses required to stage shows, as it is in Dubai. But even though everyone accepts there is a huge need for entertainment, I’ve found comedians to be reluctant to take a chance on a big show. For more established performers, there is the concern of performing alongside amateurs and hence being associated with a poor show. In addition, there is unfortunately a short-sightedness among performers, myself included, as without a set calendar of shows, there is a greater incentive to take small earnings from a show instead of investing in booking a larger venue or on marketing. While one should be grateful that there are more shows happening, the scene remains characterised by part-time performers holding ad hoc events. Until the major issues highlighted above are addressed, it’s likely that the live comedy scene will remain in second gear. Unless someone takes the step of investing in a star-supported show to get people talking and sponsors interested, Karachi’s entertainment scene is likely to be characterised by irregular small scale shows.

Thirteen years after the events of September 11, 2001, New York is ready to begin its cathartic process. News of Islamic State of Iraq and Syria (ISIS) and al-Qaeda may still dominate the majority of the news, but the feeling of the streets is more of intrigue rather than fear. Most of the food carts in the city are halal, and the number one street cart in the city is called ‘Halal Guys’. To see people have chicken over rice from these carts has never been surprising but now some bars are also exclusively serving halal meat, ‘halal’ food is being embraced by hipsters for being more organic. In the city, subway announcements about stations in Pakistani dominated areas are also published in Urdu. In the capital, a Friday prayer was held at the Washington Cathedral. One of the top rated shows on television, Homeland, started four seasons ago with the premise of a US Marine converting to Islam and the current season is based in Pakistan. Last week, while walking in High Line, I noticed art work engraved with the word ‘Allah’ as part of an art exhibition. There is graffiti with Arabic calligraphy at the corner of my street. On Saturday, I headed to a theatre in East Village to see a play called ‘My Wife in a Chador’. I was very apprehensive about going to watch a play with the tagline, “Can a novelist with an Islamic wife win the mayoralty of New York City?” I assumed the word ‘chador’ referred to a chaddar (headscarf) but the French pronunciation of the word, sounding like ‘Shadoor’ threw me off. Written by Claudio Angelini, a political correspondent of the Italian National Television, the play completely fails to capture anything to do with Islam. But at least he tried, and for that he must be lauded. The play asked the right questions. And even though characters in the play reacted with disgust at the prospect of a candidate with a Muslim wife running to be the mayor of New York City, the audience did not. The story revolves around a novelist, John Mayor, with a wife who is looking to embrace her Islamic roots. She changes her name from ‘Rosa’ to ‘Abeera’ and starts covering her head with a scarf. The costume choice of having the headscarf but maintaining the skirt for the first half even made me question my own sensibilities. I felt a possessiveness about Islam I have not felt before, any misrepresentation had me jumping at my seat. As a playwright, I know the best characters are flawed and a play is not a sermon, but the lack of research on certain issues was jarring. Abeera serves her husband a “traditional Islamic meal”. I was born Muslim and I have never had a “traditional Islamic meal”, my first inclination was to think of iftars and dates but the unveiling of a goat curry was anti-climactic. The idea of the existence of any traditional Islamic meal was as ill-advised as a white blonde haired woman dancing on stage to Arabic music in attempts to be more ‘Islamic’. The lack of a dramaturge on the team could be responsible for many of the mishaps. The play had its faults, the acting was not believable and the plot lingered on unnecessarily. The comedy was forced; the punch lines made you cringe more than laugh. The only thing running riot were the clichés. However, the audience seemed to whole heartedly embrace the Islamic wife and actively cheered for her husband to win the elections. To throw a Bollywood twist, it was also revealed that his opponents had ties to ISIS. Theatrically speaking, I felt the idea of the terrorists not being representative of the religion were forced into the story but maybe it served purpose for a largely American audience. Running down on opinion polls, John’s head of staff asks him to ask his wife to take off her headscarf to increase opinion polls. The refusal of John to force his wife to change religions and agreeing to have a traditional nikkah with her is the moment of recognition and reversal in the play. The acceptance of a mayor with a Muslim wife in a play in a dingy theatre in East Village cannot be said to be a microcosm of a larger trend in society but such plays serve a cathartic purpose by causing a purgation of fear and pithy in the audiences. The ISIS headlines are designed to instil fear in the residents. Many New Yorkers lost loved ones on 9/11, the scars have not yet healed, but a full house of people willing to open themselves up to the possibility of being amused and entertained by a play asking the right questions about Islam can only be a good thing. There is also a bigger Pulitzer Prize winning production by Ayad Akhtar called ‘Disgraced’ starring Josh Radnor (Ted Mosby from How I met your Mother). Same questions on Broadway and the use of Islam in art in the city can potentially lead to more awareness about the religion in the city and should be encouraged. It is going to be a slow process fixing the tainted image of Islam, but this is a drop in the ocean.

Bhand e Pather, part of Kashmiri folk theatre, is a satirical and realistic drama, one which incorporates mythological legends and contemporary social satire; a traditional mixture of art. Mostly performed in the countryside, it is used to entertain the public, especially on different ceremonies. The artists have a separate dress code, in accordance with the theme, for the various plays performed. These plays are always performed in an open ground. The characters in the Bhand e Pather are well versed, and because the performances are based on social issues, they are seen criticising the rulers and stressing upon the betterment of society. In its early days, when Bhand e Pather was introduced, it was performed in Sufi shrines here in Kashmir; 72 theatres have been established across the Kashmir valley since. Wathoora, in central Kashmir’s Budgam district, owns 10 theatres that are famous all over India. While this century-old folk art has been on a steady decline in Kashmir, artists are now calling out for the revival of this dying folk. In fact, whilst throwing light on the history of Kashmir’s folk theatre, the Chief Secretary of the Bhand e Pather amalgamation, Ghulam Mohiuddin Aajiz Balapora, himself called for a revival of the theatre. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="600"] Photo: Ashfaq Wani[/caption] [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="362"] Ghulam Mohiuddin Aajiz Balapora. Photo: Ashfaq Wani[/caption] [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="578"] Photo: Ashfaq Wani[/caption] The Ladishah is a literary type of traditional folk genre in Kashmir. It is the art of satire embedded in a song revolving around Kashmiri ethos, and is written and sung by the same person. Usually addressing all social, political and cultural issues, the performer is seen wearing a pheran, a white trouser and white turban, all the while using his, or her, fingertips to play the beads on an iron rod. Here the artists ridicule kings and politicians, by exposing their corruption, and address several other social ills. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="585"] Photo: Ashfaq Wani[/caption] [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="600"] Photo: Ashfaq Wani[/caption] [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="540"] Photo: Ashfaq Wani[/caption] Traditionally, the orchestra used in Bhand e Pather includes dhol (drum), sawarnai (an instrument that has a strong metallic sound with the impact of open air), nagara (an accompaniment to the dhol) and thalij (metal cymbal). The plays of the Bhands are called Pather and the artists use different masks for the plays. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="600"] Photo: Ashfaq Wani[/caption] [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="544"] Photo: Ashfaq Wani[/caption] There are many children, from all over the valley, seen watching the plays in an effort to understand and study the skilful in acting, music and dance displayed in the performance.  The actors who perform the Bhand e Pather are not age bound; this traditional folk art, in fact, has been passed on from generation to generation, father to son; the age of the performers range from anywhere between 11-year-old’s to 70-year-olds. Unfortunately, due to the steady decline of this form of art in Kashmir, artists have been driven to other professions, such as weaving wicker baskets for kangris (firepots used in chilling winter), woollen sweaters, and carpets. Their part time jobs are mostly to work as masons, carpenters, and shopkeepers.

I was happy, content and so engrossed in the performance that the world ceased to exist for a few moments and then, suddenly, the whole act collapsed right in front of me. The performance ended abruptly. The audience didn’t even get a chance to applaud but I could hear a few startled gasps. People didn’t expect such a hurried finish. It wasn’t just hurried, but sudden and shocking. I went outside to catch some fresh air, hoping and praying to return in a few minutes to experience a dramatic ending to the performance, but I was wrong… they left, never to return. It was disappointing and my hopes dashed ferociously through the gaps between my expectations and the reality that I was actually experiencing standing there. The performers were young, passionate and seemed adventurous. To the audience, they seemed naïve but they were not ‘that’ naïve. As a performing arts enthusiast, I could tell that there was something sinister about the whole troupe. They would come close and seduce me, sending a stench of immorality into my nostrils. They were demonic and ungodly but they were such good performers that I kept drawing closer to them. This was turning into an obsession and I would spend all my time watching them, observing them but one day my conscience told me to stand up and leave. While I was packing my stuff to leave the vile creatures, they surprised me by surrounding me like a mob; one of them even clutched my arm. They told me they loved me and suggested that we snuggle together in sleeping bags, under the moonlit sky. It was cold so I decided to stay but I wasn’t going to allow them to use any more charm on me. I would close my eyes but I won’t sleep. I will be alert and ready to attack anyone who tried to harm me. But the long day and the endless hours of being an audience to this magnificent troupe took its toll and I fell asleep. There were thousands there and all the bodies were humming in silent communication. The Muslims were worshipping Allah, their women, donned in hijab, were facing the Ka’aba, the Hindus were chanting mantras and Christians were confessing their love for Jesus. It was a scene of mystic rites of ancient Gods and I could tell I was part of a momentous event. Slowly, we all woke up only to find the performers back on the stage. The Muslim performers had taken off their hijab. Their dresses were a riot of colours, a union of various cultures and regions. The women were flaunting their well-sculpted bodies and the men were parading the hours put into building up muscles, in sheer harem pants. The whole build up to the final act was enticing and attractive. There was no shame in showing off whatever you had that day. Women, men, the young and old, everyone was fused together in a euphoric event of tripping, swaying and whirling. But it ended all at once. No more dancing or singing; there was no reason to celebrate. The festivities ended and everyone started to go back to their cradles but I spotted them once again, confronted them and unleashed my wrath. A little demon inside me suggested it would be fun to chase them, just to see them run…