Morning talk show host Maya Khan and her team behind ‘Subah Saweray Maya Kay Sath’ on SAMAA TV, stand for all that is bizarre, absurd and beyond mediocre regarding local, Pakistani morning shows.

Maya Khan

Recently, this week, a Youtube video of one of the show’s episodes went viral.

Live, the show featured Khan huffing and puffing through Bin Qasim Park – a public park – in Karachi, with her team; which comprised of a sizable number of women and men.

Racing through the park, out of breath and eager, the holier-than-thou host was out to catch unsuspecting victims – young couples – sitting on park benches to interrogate whether or not the couple were married, or, were dating.

Like frenzied, trigger-happy hunters, these idiotic women amidst throaty cackles began chasing (literally) frightened couples, some of whom began running towards the park’s exit. The host’s self-righteous comments, along with those of her minions were cringe-worthy and cruel.

“Suney PLEASE!” one of the show’s team members cried out to a fast-escaping victim, “Aap ka naam! Aap ka naam! Waldain ko dhoka maat dein!” (Translation: “Listen, PLEASE! Your name! Your name! Don’t hoodwink your parents!”)

With jerky camera movements (given that the poor sod of a cameraman was trying his best to keep up with the mad women), at one point, after chasing off a young couple, one of the women from the team yelled out: “We found a SHOEEEE!”

The absurdity of it all. If I were there, I would’ve picked up the darned shoe and whacked the dumb bird across her face silly.

Popular Pakistani blogger, Mehreen Kasana states in her fantastic blog post, ‘An Open Letter to Maya Khan:’

“Young people fall in love all the time. Sometimes they don’t – it’s just infatuation. Sometimes they do and they’re confused as hell and they still go out to understand the significance of the other. In the process, they pick a location like normal people do where they can sit down and spend time together. I’m sure you liked someone when you were in college. No big deal. See, girls fall in love pretty much every single day of the week and so do boys. Sometimes they make the right decision, sometimes they make mistakes. It’s called being human. But trust me, they don’t need a team of middle aged women hounding them down in public places to enlighten them about their decisions. And trust me, their mothers will handle whatever happens. No one asked you or anyone else to take the responsibility of scrutinizing them. See, what worries me a lot is when public figures like you with considerable influence on viewers morph into moral police. In a country like Pakistan where public vigilantism has exceeded levels of brutality, the last thing the youth needs is a team of moral watchdogs sniffing around for ‘impure’ behavior.”

While there are a number of Khan’s episodes uploaded on her show’s Youtube channel, I have absolutely no desire to watch them after viewing this particular episode.

Because personally, Khan has no credibility as a journalist, given the subject matter of her show’s episode, given how she allowed her team to harass and embarrass unwary people in a park, and given how she approached a couple in the park – coaxing them to talk – on the pretext that her microphone was off and that her cameraman wasn’t filming them. Pretty disgusting. Zero integrity as a journalist, Khan.

Mid-way during the video when the host and her minions sat down on one of the benches to catch their breath, a particular self-righteous hijabi (FYI: no disrespect to hijabis!) launched into a tirade – dripping with virtuousness – about how immoral it was for one of the men at the park to bring his fiancée to the park, and that if the couple really were engaged, then they ought to be meeting at each other’s houses and not in a (gasp) park! Of all places. A park. Yes, hijabi, as if the poor couple was dry humping in broad daylight in Bin Qasim Park. Impious, darling, I feel you. Scarred much?

In the comments section, a Youtube viewer rightly points out:

“In a country where extremism is on the rise, millions and millions of children are being sexually abused, there is rampant corruption, poverty, pollution, diseases and scores and scores of other problems…a country can ill-afford the likes of Maya and her self-righteous holier-than-thou attitude and yellow journalism. The last thing this country needs is aunties of the ghairat brigade.”

We’re sitting on a sunny patch of grass at Peeru’s Café – the Rafi Peer Theater Workshop’s food joint located far out on Raiwind Road, in Lahore. The compound also hosts the Workshop’s office space as well as their colourful Museum of Puppetry. Even if you were born and brought up in the city, you’d still be compelled to walk around and take photos – given the colourful aesthetic sensibility of the place.

It’s a Friday and Yamina Peerzada – part of the Rafi Peer Theater Workshop (RPTW) – has an extended lunch break from the studio where she and the rest of the ‘Sim Sim Hamara’ (Sesame Street Pakistan) team have been hard at work shooting episodes for the localized version of the popular US-based television show. She’s dressed in a snug black jacket, a black knit cap, jeans, sneakers, and greets me with an enthusiastic smile.

Sim Sim Hamara

Much has been said and written about ‘Sim Sim Hamara’ – such as whether or not the project will eventually make an impact on Pakistan’s future generations, by way of its educational content that is to aid and condition young Pakistani children. But apart from all the dissemination and intellectualization, one thing is for certain: ‘Sim Sim Hamara’ sure will provide good quality entertainment for children tuning into local television.

In 2008, having graduated with a Masters in Screen Acting from the Central School of Speech and Drama in London, Peerzada performed in the Edinburgh Fringe Festival where she put up a one-woman show for 21 nights.

Yamina Peerzada

“I practically grew up in festivals,” she says with a laugh. Peerzada hails from a family of puppeteers and artists, and throughout school found herself in the midst of festivals, puppet shows et al.

On her return to Pakistan after grad school, Peerzada acted in two local television serials for both PTV and ARY Digital, but from 2011 onwards, she has had her hands full – literally – performing her endearing, chubby, 6-year-old puppet, Rani, for ‘Sim Sim Hamara.’

In August 2011, puppeteer Nyanga Tshabalala, part of ‘Takalani Sesame’ (translated as ‘Be Happy Sesame’ in Venda) – the South African version of Sesame Street – flew in to Pakistan to train the ‘Sim Sim Hamara’ crew of 10 key puppeteers for two weeks. After which, the RPTW took over in their training.

Apart from Elmo, all the puppets that feature in ‘Sim Sim Hamara’ have been made in Pakistan by the RPTW. Infact, initially for a year, Peerzada served as the Creative Manager for the project and took part in the conception and building of the puppets with the RPTW’s puppet-building team.

“I didn’t know that I’d be playing Rani before the auditions, so when I got selected I thought; ‘oh I know her!’ Maybe that’s why I feel so close to Rani,” Peerzada says affectionately.

“Although she’s 6, she talks like she’s 8 or 9,” Peerzada states grinning, “Because sometimes I forget how young she really is. Rani’s really enthusiastic; she’s very curious and wants to know how everything works! She asks a ton of questions, infact we even have a segment in the show called ‘Rani’s Questions.’”

Given Peerzada’s naturally husky voice, speaking like a 6-year-old with a high-pitched voice must be quite a challenge. “It is,” she says, “I think my voice has become hoarser because we’re in the studio practically all day!”

Sadly, local television shows for children are few and far between. Peerzada states that the main reason for this is due to the lack of investment in productions targeted towards Pakistani children. “I remember when I was growing up there was a local show called ‘Ainak Wala Jin,’ and ‘Uncle Sargam,’” the latter of which, Peerzada states wryly, “was more like a political satire targeted towards adults.”

“With the funding [from USAID] we’re able to put up a show that I don’t think has ever been done in Pakistan before – on such a large scale…I mean we have about 200 people working on this project with us.”

Yamina Peerzada and her puppet, Rani

Even though ‘Sim Sim Hamara’ only went live in December, 2011 (on PTV Home airing Saturdays at 5:30pm), the overall packaging of the show – from the content to the puppets and the colours-that-pop set design – seems highly promising.

Concerning the show’s content, the Content Head and Education Directors sit with the show’s writers for content and script development. Once complete, the translated scripts are then sent to the Sesame Street headquarters in the US for review and feedback.

“If the production looks a certain way, children will be attracted to it,” Peerzada says while speaking about the show’s packaging, “It has to be up to international standards for kids to want to watch ‘Sim Sim Hamara.’ I mean if you do a shoddy job, they’ll change the channel because they have access to other foreign channels like Nickelodeon, Pogo, you name it.”

Coming back to Rani, “in many scenes we’ve shown her wearing the local government school uniform,” Peerzada mentions, “to encourage Pakistani girls to want to go to school.” However, Peerzada does clarify that Rani’s school uniform wasn’t to enforce going to school, but rather to encourage education that can even be learnt in one’s own backyard – just as Rani does, on the show.

Because through Rani, Peerzada explains, education doesn’t only come from going to school, but also through a child’s own curiosity, experience and questions posed towards adults.

Towards the end of my interview with Peerzada, we take a quick walk towards the Museum of Puppetry which features the RPTW’s own puppets in addition to foreign puppets sent in from different countries around the world.

Walking downstairs to the ‘Sim Sim Hamara’ workshop and two tailors are seen hard at work tailoring outfits for puppets. In the adjoining room, post production work for the show is well underway.

The tailoring room is small, with colourful outfits, buttons, rolls of cloth and other bits and bobs spread out and stocked on the tables. In the glass cupboards that line the walls, feathers, bundles of puppet fur, hair and half-complete, bald puppets are displayed.

Rani’s little uniform is hung on one of the clothing racks as well, along with her tiny school bag. And as I look around the room, in the midst of all this colour and creativity, wishing I were 6 again, I am hopeful that ‘Sim Sim Hamara’ will eventually prove to be a successful project for the children of Pakistan.

The Friday Times

I’m stoked. Photographed the lovely, pixie-faced Sarah Cheema for the Wall Street Journal’s art/culture website – Scene Asia. Didn’t think it’d get published, but it did. ‘SceneStyle’ is a section on their website that features people in cool garb on streets around the world. So, so proud that we could represent Lahore, Pakistan!

Sarah Cheema, architecture student. ASOS dress, traditional Kashmiri coat, traditional Pakistani slippers.

View the original post here!

The Wall Street Journal – Scene Asia

]]> http://sonyarehman.wordpress.com/2012/01/13/scenestyle-liberty-market-lahore-pakistan/feed/ 2 sonyarehman SC http://sonyarehman.wordpress.com/2011/12/30/a-postcard-for-your-eyes-only/ http://sonyarehman.wordpress.com/2011/12/30/a-postcard-for-your-eyes-only/#comments Fri, 30 Dec 2011 17:59:24 +0000 Sonya Rehman http://sonyarehman.wordpress.com/?p=1726 Continue reading »

What did 2011 teach you? Strange thing, I only ‘felt’ change towards the tail-end of this year. Realized that playing it safe all the time sucks. Planning sucks too. Realized that guilt is healthy, even some regrets. Why? Because if you choose, you can make sure you don’t repeat old patterns. Realized that change comes and goes, when she likes, when she deems best. You can’t poke her, prod her to be swift. When the time is ‘right,’ and when you’re ready, she’ll waltz in and turn your life upside down, inside out. Good or bad. Be prepared when she does. Realized that it’s okay to have fair-weather friends, but one should not be compelled to nurture those friendships, yet, not shun them either. They may be fickle, but they’re fun. Let them drift in and out. Realized that it feels so good to nurture old and new friendships with beautiful people who matter. Empathy is the new love. And sometimes (oftentimes) I feel my heart may pop. Realized that to constantly be grateful means being in a constant state of grace. And finally, realized that I grew out of my rainbow toe-socks obsession.

To 2011, thanks chum.

Love,
Sonya.

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At the behest of some friends, I finally got around to enrolling myself in a 6-day ‘Art of Living’ workshop in Lahore at the Al Razi Healthcare centre on MM Alam Road at the tail-end of November this year.

I’d heard about Shahnaz Minallah – one of the founders of the Pakistani chapter of the Art of Living Foundation – and was keen to experience the workshop under Minallah’s tutelage. Friends had told me she was thoroughly vivacious, had a hysterical sense of humour, and above all, was a great teacher.

Shahnaz Minallah. Photo: Sonya Rehman

I was intrigued. Besides, I’d always been interested in yoga and meditation – but never really got around to studying and practicing the subjects in too much depth. I had realized I’d needed a teacher to guide me through the process.

I’d always been big on psychology, extra sensory perception, dream interpretation, etc as a teenager. I would read whatever book I could find on the subjects and read in my free time. By the age of seventeen I began having premonitions, strong hunches and gut feelings about friends, family members, strangers and situations in general.

Every human being has a sixth sense, but it all really depends on whether or not we want to nurture or suppress it. But the ‘calling’ (so to speak) is always there, constant, within us – and if one has a strong, unflinching hunch about something, it’s probably correct. Anyway, I digress.

Initially, to be honest, I didn’t have any expectations from the workshop. I didn’t think my life would miraculously be put right in less than a week. But I was slightly at odds on a personal level, energy-wise. I felt sapped. Plus, I thought the activity would do me some good – and if nothing else, provide me with some entertainment rather than gassing about at coffee shops with friends in the city.

My class comprised of an interesting assortment of people: corporate types, housewives, artists and students, including some who’d come to Lahore from Faisalabad and Multan just to attend the workshop.

'JUMP!' The Art of Living group, Lahore, Pakistan.

In a nutshell, the Art of Living classes with Minallah comprised of some yoga, heart to heart group discussions, meditation and some very intense breathing exercises. Infact, the breathing exercises made up a fair chunk of the workshop.

Each day we’d meet early evening and begin the session with some light cardio: dancing. After working up a bit of a sweat, our group would begin the day’s activities for the next three hours. For the first two days most of us were moaning and groaning over the yoga exercises: our bodies felt rigid and inflexible – due to sedentary lifestyles. But over the next few days, the exercises felt easy. My body felt far more flexible, energetic and supple.

The daily breathing exercises on the other hand were an experience I don’t think I’ll ever forget. Performing Sudarshan Kriya – a rhythmic breathing technique – for a particular time period on a daily basis during the workshop left me (and my group) de-stressed, cleansed, light and happy.

Shahnaz Minallah. Photo: Sonya Rehman

Given the intensity of the technique and the (almost) immediate soothing after-effects, many of us were left intensely relaxed and emotional. As silly as this may read, some of us even wept a little afterwards.

Later, during a group discussion, some of my group members talked about how they were able to shed some of the emotional baggage they’d been hanging onto for years, and/or coming to terms with a particular aspect of their lives and subsequently were able to find closure.

I felt that way too. The Sudarshan Kriya was cathartic. And by the end of each Kriya session, I felt bright-eyed, inspired, affectionate and full of love.

Shezzy and Nida - posing for me. Photo: Sonya Rehman

It was true – everything everyone had ever told me about the inner and outer changes one goes through during and after the Art of Living course. Towards the end of the workshop I’d lost four pounds, shed some emotional baggage, and felt stronger and happier.

I’d bid adieu to the toxicity within.

Throughout the course Minallah spoke to us often about living in the ‘now’ – to quit dwelling in the past, in addition to worrying about the future.

Sounds so simplistic, right? But it’s true. We take our present for granted – we fritter away the hours worrying incessantly about things long buried, forgotten, and those which we anxiously anticipate – not really giving a toss about what can/could be achieved in the now.

On the last day, before our potluck lunch was to commence, all of us sat around in a circle with Minallah and talked about our experiences during the course so far and how it had changed us.

Nazish Nadeem, this wonderful woman who I’d had the pleasure of befriending during the course shared with us how good she felt as a result of the workshop.

“I feel happy all the time,” she’d said enthusiastically. She was beaming. I couldn’t have agreed more.

The Friday Times

Last year, Sharmeen Obaid-Chinoy, a Pakistani filmmaker, won an International Emmy for “Pakistan’s Taliban Generation,” her documentary focusing on young Taliban recruits in the aftermath of Sept. 11.

Sharmeen Obaid-Chinoy co-directs ‘Saving Face,’ a documentary about acid-attack victims in Pakistan.

A new project of hers, in collaboration with Daniel Junge, is “Saving Face,” about a British-Pakistani plastic surgeon who treats Pakistani victims of acid attacks. The film follows some of these women as they grapple with what happened to them. “Saving Face,” which will air on HBO next year, has been shortlisted for the Oscars in the “Best Documentary, Short Subject” category.

Ms. Obaid-Chinoy, 33 years old, talked about “Saving Face” and “Taliban Generation,” how she films controversial interviews and why she wishes she’d made “City of God.”

Read the entire article here!

The Wall Street Journal, Scene Asia

]]> http://sonyarehman.wordpress.com/2011/11/29/saving-face-filmmaker-on-shooting-documentaries-in-pakistan/feed/ 1 Saving Face -Behind the Scene (2) sonyarehman Saving Face -Behind the Scene (2) http://sonyarehman.wordpress.com/2011/11/02/pakistan-diagnosis-from-a-distance/ http://sonyarehman.wordpress.com/2011/11/02/pakistan-diagnosis-from-a-distance/#comments Wed, 02 Nov 2011 07:52:40 +0000 Sonya Rehman http://sonyarehman.wordpress.com/?p=1690 Continue reading »

Pakistan is experimenting with a relatively new model of healthcare delivery: telemedicine. For distance-based medical services to be successful, however, projects must grapple with challenges like inadequate infrastructure and patient distrust of the concept.

By Sonya Rehman

In the 10 months since the organization TeleSehat opened a second pilot telemedicine center in the Pakistani city of Gujar Khan, more than 3,000 patients have been treated. Such numbers point to the great potential of telemedicine to bridge the healthcare divide in Pakistan.

Due to an insufficient healthcare budget, a shortage of good doctors, and poor, ill-equipped public hospitals, Pakistan is unable to provide all its citizens with even basic healthcare services. Given the sheer lack of healthcare facilities in remote villages, villagers suffering with serious illnesses and health emergencies often have no other option but to travel extensive distances into the main cities. As the cost of traveling is prohibitive for many who survive on meager incomes, these villagers either rack up great debts or forego medical attention entirely.

Closing the healthcare gap between those who live near medical facilities and those who do not was the impetus behind TeleSehat (‘Sehat’ is Urdu for ‘Health’). Asad Karim (also the CEO of a local technology firm, Comcept) and Syed Mahmood Hussain launched TeleSehat in the summer of 2008. They founded the organization to establish telemedicine centers to deliver healthcare to Pakistanis living in inaccessible locations.

A doctor demonstrating the use of a digital notepad - Photo by: Bilal Farooq

Telemedicine is not a completely new concept to Pakistan, and certain projects have been quite noteworthy. Launched in 2001, the Tele-Health Programme, for instance, was the country’s first telemedicine initiative. Jaroka Tele-healthcare, Sehat First and TeleDoctor, all similar local telemedicine initiatives, soon followed.

But the question remains: Can telemedicine prove successful in a country like Pakistan?

“Telemedicine is the only hope for countries like Pakistan,” insists TeleSehat’s head of business development, Nabeel Ahmad Malik. “However, this can only prove successful if the service delivery model is designed in a way that it suits all the stakeholders, that includes hospitals, doctors, TeleSehat itself, the local population and the respective government.”

Virtual medical consultation

In late 2009, TeleSehat opened its first pilot telemedicine center, or “telecenter,” at the Holy Family Hospital in Rawalpindi in December 2009. Approximately 300 patients visit Holy Family on a daily basis. Doctors would consult with the hospital’s large pool of patients from a telecenter situated on another floor in the hospital. The doctors in the telecenter served as experts who were available in the case of a medical emergency in a patient; otherwise, the patients saw regular staff. Using a computer to communicate with the patients allowed them to assess many more patients than if they had seen them in the flesh.

TeleSehat - front desk

The Holy Family pilot telecenter allowed TeleSehat to test the response from the patients and the doctors, and to gain vital feedback for the improvement/refinement of services. After receiving encouraging feedback from patients, TeleSehat was able to improve its services through trial and error at the pilot telecenter.

The second pilot telecenter, in the much smaller city of Gujar Khan (in the Rawalpindi District in Punjab), functions around the clock. Here, each patient’s vitals are taken at the telecenter, then fed into tele-diagnostic software, after which, each patient can discuss his/her ailments virtually with a doctor sitting about 30 miles away in Ahmed Medical Complex – Holy Family Hospital’s partner hospital.

Overall, the patients’ response has exceeded the TeleSehat team’s expectations.

“Imagine a person who has to travel every month from Skardu [a town in Baltistan] to Islamabad [the capital] with her mother for her mother’s monthly check-up at Shifa Hospital Islamabad,” explains TeleSehat’s Malik. “Her monthly expense, including airfare, doctor’s fee, accommodation, food and local traveling costs, is more than PKR 25,000 per visit including the traveling and stay time.”

Malik also notes that in many of these remote regions the number of “quack doctors” outweighs the number of good, genuine doctors.

Challenges to implementation

One obstacle the pilots have had to confront is the patients’ discomfort with a virtual doctor. Initially, the patients were apprehensive about consulting a new doctor instead of a trusted family doctor. In addition, a virtual medical check-up made the patients uneasy and dubious about the diagnosis. Could it work?

The concept was too new for these patients. To increase the public’s comfort level with distance medicine, TeleSehat initiated a marketing campaign in which free medical camps were set up in certain spots within the villages. The campaign also included telemedicine demonstrations at homes and schools, among other locations.

Perhaps the biggest challenge facing TeleSehat is the lack of availability of broadband Internet in many of Pakistan’s remotest areas. Malik describes the Internet access as the lynchpin of the telemedicine model.

“Bandwidth is one variable without which this whole solution is not at all workable,” says Malik. “To resolve this issue we have geared up the software solution to get accommodated in either broadband DSL, fiber, wireless or GPRS options. In addition we are also in negotiations with satellite Internet service providers to develop a low-cost package to enable TeleSehat to take this service to the remotest corners of Pakistan.”

Plans for expansion

Two months ago, TeleSehat joined forces with Shifa International Hospital as a “TeleHealthCare Solution” partner. Under this agreement they have to establish three centers in Skardu, Ghance and Astore in the remote Gilgit-Baltistan province.

“So far the set-up has been deployed at Skardu and Ghance whereas Astore shall be completed in another two weeks,” reports Malik. “Services have commenced at the Skardu site and we have over 50 patients so far who have had consultations with doctors sitting at Shifa International Hospital in Islamabad.”

In addition to the Gilgit-Baltistan sites, three more sites are planned to open in November in Faisalabad, PWD Colony Rawalpindi and Mirpur (AJK).

Interestingly, Malik also mentions that Shifa has approved to link its central doctor pool with a local hospital in Kabul, Afghanistan. “This site shall be deployed by mid-December, 2011. The most important aspect of our working relationship with Shifa is the establishment of central doctor pool. Having this as our major strength, deploying sites in various remote areas is not an issue anymore.”
For the future, TeleSehat also hopes to launch telemedicine services in underserved urban areas.

The author would like to thank Bilal Farooq and Syed Zahoor Hassan at the Lahore University of Management Sciences (LUMS) for access to their case study on TeleSehat and their valuable contribution towards this article.

Some images courtesy of Bilal Farooq.

AudienceScapes

 

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‘Dou Rukh’ isn’t your average coffee table book. Published by Markings in October this year, the book offers two distinct interpretations for each subject in the book. From Lollywood actress Reema to humanitarian Abdul Sattar Edhi to an ex-Cabaret dancer, Marzi – ‘Dou Rukh’ celebrates local personalities associated with local Pakistani art, culture, media and society by well-known photographers Tapu Javeri and Arif Mahmood.

'Dou Rukh' book cover by Arif Mahmood

Considering the diversity of the book’s subjects, Javeri states that both photographers chalked out a “long wish list and then narrowed it to the present line-up.”

“We chose personalities from different fields and at times according to their present standing in the industry as all portraits were shot in 2011,” states Mahmood, “That of course doesn’t mean that there are no other people in the field which these subjects belong to, but this selection is a flavour of the talent and excellence which our country possesses, and this portfolio is a tribute to that.”

Perhaps the reason why ‘Dou Rukh’ works from a conceptual and visual point of view is because the method of each photographer is rather distinctive.

Abdul Sattar Edhi by Tapu Javeri

To put it simply, Javeri and Mahmood’s art are poles apart. While it may be hard to pinpoint exactly where the differences lie, Javeri, it seems, has a penchant for giving his subjects an abstract, dreamy feel that is at times packaged with a little glitz. Case in point: the portrait of our latest screen siren – Mathira – bare-shouldered and sultry looking into the camera all bronzed and Star Dust-ish.

On the other hand, Javeri’s portraits of Marzi and fashion designer, Rizwan Beyg, are edgy, contemporary and, abstract. Beyg for instance, is styled and shot giving the photograph a very Demi-God-of-Fashion-Dominatrix statement. Marzi’s photograph on the other hand focuses on the reflection of Marzi’s lips in a pocket mirror while she applies on lipstick – the background is blurred, giving the photograph a rather quaint and romantic feel.

Rizwan Beyg by Tapu Javeri

Javeri states that a connection between the photographer and the subject has to be established in order to take a good portrait photograph.

From their pool of subjects, Javeri mentions that he connected most with Beyg: “I see Rizwan as one of our greatest fashion talents and wanted to show him as the leader of Pakistan’s Fashion Revolution. I constructed the portrait like, ‘Liberty Leading the People,’ a famous French revolution propaganda painting by Delacroix. Instead of having Rizwan topless, like ‘Liberty,’ I instead asked him to wear ‘the funkiest outfit he could imagine himself in;’ then via Photoshop, placed him over a post-apocalyptic Karachi: cheekily adding a banner stating ‘King of Fashion.’”

Since the process took quite a few meetings to pan out, Javeri states that the end result was “not just a portrait but a dialogue between the photographer and subject.”

Mathira by Arif Mahmood

Mahmood’s photographs focus heavily on the background that his subjects are placed in, so much so that they seem to overpower the personalities. However, at the same time, the setting of the photograph and the angles at which Mahmood has captured his subjects, gives each image depth and space: you desire to see more of the subject since the play of space gives off an element of mystery quite effortlessly. States Mahmood: “I think the game of placing the face in the right space is what the portrait is all about for me.”

This is true in the case of Marzi’s portrait: seated on a beige couch in all her splendor – looking outside her window reflectively. The background emphasizes her living room: the paintings, the wall paper, the decoration pieces and the vase of flowers. With subdued lighting, the emphasis is on her – the subject – her maroon dress, close-cropped blond hair, and her features heavily accentuated by way of make-up. But her expression is not lost – she exudes strength, the photograph – stories.

“Marzi is a very powerful personality to photograph for any photographer,” Mahmood states: “She is a photographers dream as far as portraits are concerned and in her living space it’s a treat to photograph her. But the trick is to capture something rare or special. That wall and the window light with the parrot in the background makes her part of the whole wall paper space or painting. As every corner in her house is a photograph it is a challenge to be different and yet let her be part of the frame. I know her through my friends socially. She was a flight attendant in the national carrier and a Cabaret dancer before that.”

With its varied subjects and different takes on each personality, ‘Dou Rukh’ comes across as a light, breezy photo book that celebrates a handful of Pakistani personalities.

While one may not be propelled to rush to the nearest bookstore to purchase ‘Dou Rukh,’ it sure makes for an interesting skim-through.

 The Friday Times

The girl has the golden touch: endorsement deals, new mom and singer, Meesha Shafi now tries her hand at acting in an international production.

With her short, spunky cut, sporting a purple tank top, jeans and a multi-coloured scarf, Meesha Shafi looks like a livewire pixie as she saunters her way into the Toni & Guy salon in Lahore.

Photo: Waheed Khalid

Shafi is no stranger to the media industry in Pakistan. Having kick-started her career as a model, her acting and music pursuits soon followed. However, it must be stated that Shafi’s recognition in the music industry came as a result of her inclusion in the local percussion band, Overload, led by drummer Farhad Humayun.

Perhaps that’s what Overload needed: a female vocalist. And the model bit? An extra bonus.

Having parted ways with Overload, Shafi’s debut on the Coke Studio series (season 3) with Arif Lohar – a song called ‘Jugni’ – was a phenomenal success. The Lohar and Shafi duo worked remarkably well: with complementing vocals, the Coke Studio number was a raging hit both within Pakistan and overseas.

Fast forward to the current day, and L’Oreal Pakistan’s Spokesperson is all set to make her debut in the Hollywood production: Mira Nair’s ‘The Reluctant Fundamentalist,’ which, you might recall was the book penned by the ‘Moth Smoke’ famed Pakistani writer, Mohsin Hamid.

The movie is set to feature Riz Ahmed (the snarky lead in the flick, ‘Four Lions’), Om Puri, Shabana Azmi, Kiefer Sutherland and Kate Hudson. If that isn’t big news for a local artiste, one wonders what is.

With Ali Zafar making his mark in Bollywood, Shafi stands as the second, young Pakistani of the same generation to make her mark in the highly cut-throat competitive, dynamic waters of mammoth media industries abroad.

When asking Shafi about how she managed to snag a role in Nair’s latest production, she states – in a somewhat offhand manner: “I don’t know, I don’t have an answer to that really. She [Nair] was visiting Pakistan and was meeting a lot of actors – they had short-listed a lot of very familiar names from the industry, people who’ve acted a lot more than me. So there was a day of scheduled meetings, and I was somewhere there.”

Photo: Waheed Khalid

Interestingly, Shafi’s meeting with Nair was “almost two years ago,” and shortly after, the cast was finalized. “When the call back came,” Shafi smiles, “I was quite pleasantly surprised.”

Shafi, a “big fan” of Nair’s says that she was pretty excited about meeting the Director. “She’s so warm,” Shafi says enthusiastically.

This was perhaps the only time during out interview that Shafi looked animated, because initially, she can come across as slightly guarded.

“She’s extremely down to earth, there is understandably and quite obviously, such intelligence that Nair exudes. In her company, you can tell in a second, that you’re sitting with someone who is really, really good at what they do. At the same time, being this big film Director, there was this sensitivity about her approach when she would talk about where this project was going, what it meant to her, why she was doing this particular film, why she’d chosen this book, and what she felt about it. Even when she spoke about the people she was considering and had her heart set on to cast, you know she gets very animated – there’s this sparkle in her eyes.”

Shafi states that she was first introduced to Nair’s work many years ago when her mother made her watch the movie ‘Salaam Bombay.’

Given that Nair’s parents were born in Pakistan, Shafi says that the Director does feel strongly about the issues that the book addresses, in addition to the story’s setting. “It’s also about a region that she does relate to, and I think she [Nair] feels a certain affiliation to Pakistan.”

Having read the book, Shafi says that although brief, ‘The Reluctant Fundamentalist’ is a narrative which is exciting; “Because with a narrative you can do so much, since the director can then translate it the way they see it. That’s the thing about reading books; everyone will see a certain book in a different way.”

But given the sensitive nature of the book’s storyline, how would the Director bring forth its essence in the form of a film production?

Shafi states: “I think it’s just very straightforward storytelling. There’s no bias, there’s no stereotyping of any sort, no pigeonholing – as far as the screenplay’s concerned I don’t see it that way at all.”

Given that the movie revolves around the protagonist – the lead role that Riz Ahmed is slated to play – Shafi states that the movie is primarily about the protagonist’s life, “his downfalls and his achievements.”

Since the finalization of the cast, the script was shared amongst the actors. Having over a year to prepare her lines, Shafi says that she consults her mother – a well-known local actress of the small screen – when she needs “specific tips.”

“It’s not like she gives me exercises because her school of acting is very self-taught, and her generation of actors became good at it through working with very talented coaches back in the day. They had far more rehearsal time back then, not anymore,” Shafi says, “But yeah, my mother’s very useful and helpful that way. But no, I don’t do any exercises; I don’t have a fixed routine as such. I try to understand the character – and as far as your tone and actual acting is concerned, you can’t really decide from before – sitting in a room – what you’re going to do when you say this or that line etc. Because there will be other characters who will bounce their energy and their performance off you – and that’s when the scene actually takes place.”

With less than a month to go, Shafi is all set to soon leave Pakistan for a good 2-3 weeks to begin shooting her scenes in the movie, primarily in New York and Delhi.

Particularly excited about working with Om Puri, Shafi states: “Even Riz Ahmed, very excited about working with him, and of course, Shabana Azmi.”

Photo: Waheed Khalid

Having almost wrapped her acting for local filmmaker, Bilal Lashari’s production ‘Waar,’ which features Lollywood actor, Shaan, Shafi states that her role in ‘Waar’ is very different from how women are usually portrayed in local productions.

Does she then, appear in the movie guns blazing?

“Yes,” Shafi says laughing, “I have a few automatic weapons and wear leather pants in the movie.”

Instep, The News International

Lugging plastic bags full of toys and sweets; we made our way across the hospital’s parking lot to the admin block. We were at Children’s Hospital, in Lahore, hoping to distribute toys – both donated and brand new – to children in various wards at the public hospital.

This year, in July, one of my closest friends – Uzair Khan – initiated a Toy Drive in Islamabad which in turn, inspired me to initiate a Lahore chapter for the Toy Drive as well. Uzair and his friends in the capital had wound up donating toys to children at the SOS Village.

“The experience was so inspiring for me personally,” Uzair said, “We played and sang alongside the children, who embodied unbridled enthusiasm. We may have brought them a few gifts from the people of Islamabad, but they’re the ones who really gave us something- their joy and love without condition, and a subtle reminder to be less selective and inhibited with our smiles.”

After about a month and a half of collecting donations (a few friends and I spread the word through a Facebook event page), we were finally ready to visit the hospital and the Edhi Orphanage.

Muhammad Khan Sahib, a wonderful man in charge of the admin department at the hospital took us – friends and volunteers – from ward to ward. I don’t think any of us expected what we were soon to see and experience.

Each ward that we visited was full of extremely sick, underprivileged children. In some of the wards, the children were so tiny – some, babies a few months old – and were rigged up with drips, limp and fast asleep. Too weak to stir, or sit up. It was exceedingly painful.

Other children, particularly in the leukemia ward, were frail, with spotted skin and shaved heads. Their faces were gaunt, their eyes hollow.

During those two hours at the hospital, all of us, felt repeatedly stumped – our hands mid-way in the packets, ready to pull out toys – but just frozen, staring at an unbelievably unwell child. Were we doing enough? But how much is enough?

At one point I almost broke down when I saw this little boy wincing and sobbing. He was in his bed, while his father pressed his legs and his mother massaged his head. His tiny fists were balled up – he was in an extreme amount of pain. He just kept wincing and sobbing quietly, his cheeks wet with tears.

With a quarter of our donations left, we then made our way to the Edhi Orphanage in Gulberg where we donated the remaining donations to boys ranging from the ages of 6-13.

Below are pictures of the Toy Drive that were taken at the hospital and the orphanage.

May these photos inspire you to initiate a similar initiative in your city in the near future.

Children's Hospital (Photo: Jalal Hussain)

Children's Hospital (Photo: Jalal Hussain)

Children's Hospital (Photo: Jalal Hussain)

Children's Hospital (Photo: Jalal Hussain)

Children's Hospital (Photo: Jalal Hussain)

Children's Hospital (Photo: Jalal Hussain)

Children's Hospital (Photo: Jalal Hussain)

Children's Hospital (Photo: Jalal Hussain)

Children's Hospital (Photo: Jalal Hussain)

Children's Hospital (Photo: Jalal Hussain)

Entrance - Edhi Orphanage (Photo: Sonya Rehman)

Edhi Orphanage (Photo: Sonya Rehman)

Edhi Orphanage (Photo: Sonya Rehman)

Edhi Orphanage (Photo: Sonya Rehman)

Edhi Orphanage (Photo: Sonya Rehman)