Sonya Rehman's Archive

Twenty designers, one platform

Posted by: Sonya Rehman on: December 28, 2008

By Sonya Rehman 

On the 16th of December the ‘Pakistan Fashion Design Council’ (PFDC) held its first-ever trade show (at Lahore’s Royal Palm Golf & Country Club) put together by twenty fashion designers without the help of any big budget sponsors. 

Some of the designers which featured their collections were Mehdi, Ammar Belal, Libas, Maheen Karim, Sobia Nazir, Rehana Saigol, Kamiar Rokni, Karma, HSY and many others.

The timing on the invitation stated that the show would start at 6pm, but commenced after two long hours. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Word had it that since the chief guest had not arrived; the show would not be able to begin. So we had to wait it out. To top it off, at around 7:15pm – when most of the guests had arrived – a sweeper was spotted on the ramp giving it a jolly good mopping. Quite a turn-off.

Nonetheless, the show took off with Sehyr Saigol’s ‘Libas’ line which seeped out in frills and dainty colours of beige and tea pink. Second in line was designer Waseem Khan’s collection which was really extraordinary. It was regal, yet gypsy, fun, yet sassy. With long kaftans, long, loose blouses and flowy skirts – with large borders adorning the skirts and the blouses, the line was something else!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mehdi’s collection was surprising too – it was pretty distinctive. Gia Ali’s white dress (fitted at the thighs with forest green motifs adorning the front of the ensemble and a long, sexy slit which ran all the way down to the spine) was interesting. But Gia really needs to grow those long locks of hers back, and fast. The afro cut really doesn’t do much for her sharp features and slightly broad build. 

Sara Shahid’s ‘Sublime’ was perhaps a little bland for the ramp, but one has to hand it over to the designer because her cuts were clean and sharp. Infact, Sara’s work reminds one of Sonya Battla’s – not to draw any comparisons, but just to exemplify the understated chic that both Sara’s and Sonya’s lines carry. Besides, both Sara and Sonya understand their niche market intuitively well.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Frills, plaids, old school bling and funkadelic school girl oomph was what Ammar Belal’s collection was all about. While some gawked at the ‘out there’ outfits which waltzed down the ramp, I thought it was risky and fun. After all, art’s all about taking risks right? The models strutted their stuff to The Who’s ‘Baba O’Rilely’ which seemed to juxtapose Belal’s current design philosophy with the song’s melody (not lyrics) quite aptly. 

While Maheen Karim’s line was very Cher and sequincey, Asifa & Nabeel’s collection was slinky, silky, and velvety in lilacs and deep purples. Cybil looked absolutely ravishing in one of the gowns. Maria B’s collection on the other hand was tacky and Moulin Rogue-ish – with each model sporting massive feathers in their hairdos. I just didn’t get it. It was simply: weird. 

Perhaps Maria needs to understand the different between a calculated ‘risk’ and going completely over the top. 

Sobia Nazir, for instance, understands her market well. Her collection was diverse – vis-à-vis the colour combinations and they worked pretty darn well. 

New designer, Khadija’s line ‘Élan’ was decent. Iraj in particular wore one of Khadija’s loose-fitted, A-line, white kameez and pants. It was pretty stunning as it featured silver work which ran from the shoulders, all the way down to the hem line of the kameez. Coupled with Iraj’s blazing dark skin, the outfit shone on the ramp like a jewel. 

But the show stealers of the night had to be Rehana Saigol, Kamiar Rokni and HSY. Nadia Hussain wore a double-shaded sari by Rehana which was jaw-droppingly beautiful. 

No one in the audience could take their eyes off Nadia and the sari. Kamiar’s line too, was memorable and ethnic – it struck an appealing balance between ethnic patterns and contemporary cuts. Very Mongol inspired. 

HSY’s beige, brown, white, and cream ensembles were gorgeous too. They were from his spring/summer collection that he’d apparently shown at Dubai Fashion Week. Flirtatious at best, HSY’s line was heavily embellished with contemporary designs. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The PFDC show was entertaining – minus the delay and the minor sound goof-ups – and it wrapped up pretty quickly. However, two things stuck out like sore thumbs; firstly the lighting on the ramp was so stark that those in the first, second and third rows could easily make out stretch marks and flabby cellulite on some of the models’ arms and midriffs. Perhaps that could be combated if some of the models quit starving, and decided to hit the gym. Sorry folks, but I’m not going to beat around the bush. If you’re a ramp model – in the spotlight – you’ve got to sculpt your body and maintain it. Eating a bare minimum just won’t cut ice. 

With the exception of Vinny, Cybil, Nadia Hussain and Sabina Pasha – whose skin was taut and glowing, the rest looked edgy and undernourished. 

Secondly, during the show, as Iraj made her way back to the centre of the stage, a relatively newer model walked down the ramp – perhaps too soon. Iraj looked incredibly ticked off, motioned with her hand and ground her teeth. The newer model looked petrified. That was nasty and in bad taste on Iraj’s part. 

Mistakes happen and models – no matter how senior – need to handle the goof-ups gracefully rather than making it obvious infront of the scores of people sitting barely two feet away from you! 

That being stated, the show was snappy, the music was great and some of the designers really shone in the spotlight. Here’s hoping the PFDC holds future fashion shows around the country real soon.  

Images, Dawn

Look who’s ‘Talking’

Posted by: Sonya Rehman on: December 21, 2008

 

By Sonya Rehman

Rizwan Saeed has to be one of the most unassuming individuals who comprises of the budding local media scene, currently.  

Young, and down-to-earth, with his long-ish, shaggy hair, and easy-going nature, he strikes you as one of those excessively creative flower children (minus the tree-hugging!). 

Part of ‘Talking Filmain’ – a production house operating from Lahore – Rizwan works in the capacity of an editor, a producer and more recently, as a director for the company which was initiated by Rizwan and two of his long-time, closest friends; Nasir Khan and Adil Sher. 

Recently, a Pakistani film (‘Kashf: The Lifting of the Veil’) which Rizwan worked on as an editor, was premiered in New Mexico at the ‘Santa Fe Film Festival’. But that’s not the only news, as Rizwan was short-listed (along with three other editors) out of 250 for ‘Best Editing’ at the festival. 

“I’m currently directing a sitcom called ‘Life’ which is about eight people”, Rizwan states. Previously, he edited Talking Filmain’s bold documentary called ‘Made in Pakistan’ which was shot last year and comprises of the lives of four, young Pakistanis in the wake of Pakistan’s tumultuous political scenario. 

The documentary took Rizwan eight long months to edit, while it only took him four months to edit ‘Kashf’.

“Editing is very tedious”, he says, “You need to be really focused. And documentary editing is very different from editing music videos and sitcoms. But actually editing documentaries is the hardest. This is because with documentaries there really is no script – and, along with that you have to make more segments, revise over the segments and make further changes as you go along.” 

It comes as no surprise when Rizwan tells me that he’s completely self-taught. These days, with the lack of good filmmaking institutions, many aspiring filmmakers put themselves through a thorough ‘trial and error’ process, while desperately probing for opportunities and experiences whenever, and wherever they can. 

Even the few institutes within Pakistan which offer degrees and courses in filmmaking aren’t exactly ‘all that’. 

This is because many courses are completely ‘DIY’ (Do It Yourself) – which if you look at it from one perspective can be challenging, but on the other hand, for someone who doesn’t know how to operate programs and cameras – the whole DIY shebang can be excessively daunting! 

But coming back to Rizwan, before ‘Talking Filmain’ waltzed into his life and changed it inside out, upside down and completely 360, he was buying and selling stocks and shares. “I realized it wasn’t what I really wanted to do”, the young filmmaker says looking back, “it was all too stressful and not really my type.”

A well-known local channel, of late, held its ‘Telefilm Festival 2008’ and Talking Filmain’s ‘14 Din’ (14 Days) bagged a number of awards. And in the telefilm, Rizwan played a dual role of an editor and a co-producer.

Slowly, yet surely, ‘Talking Filmain’ finds itself expanding as not only do they have fresh, new faces featuring in their productions, but also three aspiring editors on board out of which Rizwan has trained all three. The days now look more promising, perhaps clouded by slightly lesser doubt. Because looking back and reminiscing, Rizwan tells me how difficult it was for ‘Talking Filmain’ to truly launch itself. 

Nasir, Adil and Rizwan worked exceptionally hard – working together in a cramped room – to instigate the wheels of their production house to finally get rolling. But it was never fifth gear from day one. It was slow and steady. 

But perhaps now, these young men – full of aspirations of churning out good quality entertainment for local and foreign audiences, find themselves in a steady fourth gear. 

Just one notch higher and they’ll be speeding down countless highways with the music cranked up, and their windows rolled down just a little more. 

Images, Dawn

Duck for cover!

Posted by: Sonya Rehman on: December 19, 2008

By Sonya Rehman

Every year, my family and I, brace ourselves for the looming ‘Slaughter Fest’…or, in other words, Bakra Eid. 

Now don’t get me wrong, we respect our customs and traditions and all that, but there’s just one slight problem – you see my family and I are all vegetarians, to varying degrees.

Although I’m considered to be the most hardcore vegetarian of my kin since I’ve begun to flirt with the idea of waltzing over the edge into complete vegan-ism (I stopped eating eggs four years ago, and have, of late, begun to harbour an aversion to cheese). But what stops me from taking the plunge is: ice cream. 

I’m sorry, but I love my dairy. You’d have to pry a box of ice cream from my cold, dead fingers to make me a vegan! I’m sorry PETA, but I can’t succumb just yet! 

But coming back to the Slaugh-whoops I meant Bakra Eid, the night before Eid, my mother makes it a point to clamp down the windows good and proper to make sure none of us wakes up at the crack of dawn to the horrifying wailing and bleating of every goat, cow and camel getting sacrificed in the neighbourhood. 

Keeping the windows shut for the first day also keeps the thick stench of blood out of the house, followed by the even thicker reek of meat being cooked into elaborate dishes of biryani, gravy and what not. 

We also make it a point to stay indoors whilst the stabbing and skinning is done and over with because none of us fancy the idea of skidding on animal innards very delightful. I would however, recommend toe-socks and a generous shower of Johnson’s baby powder on a marble floor if you like skidding indoors though. 

But coming back to Eid, on the second day, with our windows wide open, we heard a little Billy goat screaming in pain. 

“Get the kitchen windows”, my mother yelled whilst she kung-fooed her way to the drawing room, and leaping over the couches like a black panther, clamped shut the large windows which overlook our garden in swift, ninja-like movements. Okay, I made that part up, but you get the picture. 

Therefore, my week went by in one, gloriously lazy stupor (save for some spontaneous leaping through the air towards open windows) due to the Eid holidays, and followed by the weekend. Yay. 

I watched episode upon episode of ‘Ugly Betty’ (Season 2), so much so that by the end of the holidays, I began looking like shaggy-haired, unkempt Betty Suarez, although my dog Bruce begs to differ. He’d love me even if I crawled out of bed looking like the Swamp Thing. Ah, who needs friends when you can have dogs? Okay that didn’t sound right. 

This week I also finished reading ‘White Tiger’ by Aravind Adiga. Adiga really deserved the ‘Man Booker Prize’ this year, and if any of you think the book is a dainty little metaphor heaven which romanticizes India, think again. The book is truly hardcore and the style of writing is simplistic, daring and very in-your-face. 

It’s interesting because a few Indian critics have lambasted the book for portraying India incorrectly and somewhat cynically. But what Adiga does is he portrays the lives of the poor and under-privileged most aptly…infact in an interview about the research for the book, the author stated: “I spent a lot of my time loitering about train stations, or bus stands, or servants’ quarters and slums, and I listened and talked to the people around me. There’s a kind of continuous murmur or growl beneath middle-class life in India, and this noise never gets recorded.”

If you think about it, Adiga’s novel revolves around a theme similar to Arundathi Roy’s ‘God of Small Things’, as both Adiga and Roy have taken a very apparent truth and weaved it around stories of fiction. And the apparent truth is this: India’s still prevalent caste system and the discrimination that comes with it. 

‘White Tiger’ is well-worth the buy, but its execution is poles apart to Roy’s ‘God of Small Things’. 

On a lighter note, a family I know bought three goats this year to sacrifice over Eid. They’d named the little fellas Tinkoo, Chum Chum and Bobo. Feeding them over a two-week period and fattening them up good and proper, I wondered how terrorized (if at all) the couple’s kids must’ve been after the sacrifice was over. In other news, a friend of mine uploaded pictures of the Slaughter Fest onto his Facebook profile. I think I am, officially, scarred for life.  

The Friday Times

The façade of ‘war’

Posted by: Sonya Rehman on: December 17, 2008

 

By Sonya Rehman

We live in unpredictable times. Unpredictable and at the same time, volatile, because everything seems to carry with it, big, looming question marks. Economically, socially, politically, and emotionally, we are bullet-ridden with doubt, suspicion, angst, hunger and hatred.

Strangely, even with a preponderance of TV channels, radio stations, newspapers, magazines, and e-zines at our disposal to choose from, a majority of us still suffer from a lack of information, and therefore a lack of good, sound judgment. Instead of truly sinking our teeth into a subject matter and understanding every angle of it, we rely on scraps of information that come via word of mouth, and/or a brief skim-over of the daily headlines.

Therefore this lack of information immediately culminates into a never-ending blame game, one which further fuels and breeds intolerance and deep-rooted prejudice.

(Above: One of my favourite vintage Lennon posters)

The horrifying siege which lasted three days in Mumbai (in November this year) was incredibly nerve-wracking, one could well imagine what the city of Mumbai, across the border was going through. But we watched on, powerless, at CNN and BBC’s live transmission.

You see, Pakistan and its people too, have of late, witnessed carnage and destruction up close and personal where thousands of our men, women and children have perished. I do not state this to undermine what happened in Mumbai, I state this to remind you that we’re all in this together. Please always remember that.

This endless ‘War on Terror’ (albeit punctured with loop-holes), this endless fight for justice, for safety, for security, this endless hope for harmony, love and freedom from fear and bigotry – we all stand through the lashes of change as one. No matter how painful, and no matter how trying, the world now needs a greater dose of compassion.   

Treat a man, woman or child as a terrorist, and they will become terrorists. Subject the populace to continuous price-hikes (which will leave their children hungry) and watch them come for your jugular with cold rage in their eyes. Subject the masses to a lack of education and watch them get swayed into an ocean of lies and promises of going straight to heaven if they blow themselves up at a particular location. The general public will be unstoppable if you rob them of their basic necessities. And perhaps this is one of the most glaring and foremost reasons of the birth of crime and terrorism.

The media continuously dishes out facts, figures and dates – churning it all out, like one big, well-oiled machine of propaganda without getting to the root of the cause. And the root of the cause is just this: where, how, when and why are these terrorist groups operating? How did they come into being?  What can be done to make them stop? Who’s funding them? Bombing them to high heavens sure isn’t helping, because the terrorist attacks seem to be ongoing occurrences the world over.

“Everybody’s worried about stopping terrorism”, Naom Chomsky had once stated, “Well, there’s a really easy way; stop participating in it”. Most apt, wouldn’t you agree?

In addition to the information overload and the lack of inseminating and dissecting it properly, it has become a rather tedious trend for people to over-intellectualize the basics by peppering it with conspiracy theories and utter speculation.

The portrayal by the media of the vast Muslim peninsula as barbaric hooligans makes only one thing evident: that the media has, is, and always will be an instrumental player in the game of international politics – via raising counter-terrorist, agenda-based issues.  

Encourage fear, and you gain further control over the minds of people. Encourage abhorrence and intolerance, and watch the citizens of a country belonging to different faiths rip each other’s throats out.

With the onset of the Mumbai siege, and within barely a few hours, the Indian media kicked itself up in a flap and began finger-pointing towards Pakistan and its involvement in the attacks almost immediately.

But do you think we ought to hang our heads in shame? In humiliation? In a false sense of guilt? Should we now, allow our lives to be governed by anti-Muslim and anti-Pakistan sentiments that seem to echo from each and every direction of the wind? Should we now allow the India-Pakistan rift to once again increase and deepen into aching crevices of misjudgment, pain and antagonism, when it took decades to reach some sort of camaraderie?

I think not. Because the world’s war, is very much our war too. Perhaps the artillery needs to be put down, once and for all, to channel peaceful dialogue in the hope to reach common ground.

But then again, maybe that approach would be far too simplistic, because after all there are much bigger elements at play in this real-life chess board of international politics.

Yes, perhaps, there is far too much greed for power and dominance for comfort. But those of us – the pawns – caught entrenched within this endless façade of ‘war’, we can make it easier by being better informed and learning to be more empathetic again.

 

No Reservations on air

Posted by: Sonya Rehman on: December 13, 2008

 

By Sonya Rehman

In Pakistan it’s fairly common for a majority of ‘celebrities’ to dabble in various genres of art. The examples are numerous really – from models that have ‘crossed over’ onto the other side of the fence into acting and the small screen, and from actors who have dabbled in modeling…the entertainment industry within Pakistan has truly shrunk down to a teeny size zero.

Yet, it’s all quite claustrophobically productive somehow. Funny too really; for ask any individual (from the entertainment industry) to define his/her job description, and you will oftentimes find yourself hearing an endless spiel which goes something like this: “Well, I’m a model/actor/filmmaker/television host/VJ/radio jockey/singer/dancer/novelist/estate agent/nuclear scientist…and oh, a freelance assassin…oh wait, I told you I was a model too, right?” You get the picture.

Blimey. But whether or not the local entertainment industry is breeding factory-made ‘Jack-Of-All-Trades-Master-Of-None’ plastic, wind-up dolls is a whole new catty topic of debate altogether. And that being stated, perhaps it would be thoroughly unfair to label each multi-skilled ‘celebrity’ as a bimbionic numbskull. I’m serious.

Take Kamiar Rokni for example. Well-known for his (now severed) affiliation with the clothing brand ‘Karma’ and Maheen Kardar Ali (his ex-business partner), ‘Kami’ as he’s known fondly in the industry, did the unthinkable when he walked out of his long-time association with Karma a little over a year ago. And rightly so. This is because Kamiar had far too much spunk and potential (a deadly creative combination) to sit pretty under the umbrella of Karma. I wasn’t the only one who shared this very notion – many within the industry subscribed to the same belief as well. 

(Above: Kamiar Rokni by Izdeyar Setna)

This is because when Karma exclaimed “dah-ling, it’s ovaaa, so very ovaaa” – the disassociation was met with mixed, and varying reactions. “Good for him, he’s a star – he needs to walk the path alone” some said, while others lamented the loss of Kamiar from Karma. 

But coming back to the topic of celebrities experimenting in print and/or broadcast media, Kamiar, this year, hosted his very own show (on Dawn News) which went by the name of ‘No Reservations’.

Interviewing a vast array of well-known individuals (such as Iman Ali, Faryal Gauhar, Fawad Khan of ‘Khuda Kay Liye’ fame, Ahmed Ali Butt, ZQ, Aammar Belal and so on) from the fashion, music and television fraternity,  ’No Reservations’ was well-received for being an up-close-and-personal interview-based show unlike any other on local television.

And besides, Kamiar turned out to be an exceptional host since his personal make-up is devoid of any farty pomposity, and since he shares an amicable rapport with everyone in the entertainment circus…oops, I meant, circle.

However, my only ‘reservation’ (pun intended) with the show was the set design which hardly seemed conducive enough for an interview show. I hate to draw parallels, but in ‘Koffee with Karan’ for instance, the low-set couch (for the guests) was placed close to the interviewer. And just by doing this, the atmosphere bred a certain ‘cozy openness’ which made Karan’s show ratings soar. 

It may not seem like that big a deal – but it’s true, and what’s more, the guests on Karan’s show shared good chemistry (on screen) since they sat together while being interviewed by Karan. 

On the other hand, in ‘No Reservations’, two odd-looking couches for the interviewees – were set far apart – and resembled white boxes with their high arm-rests. And a good distance away was situated the interviewer’s bright red couch. It really made no head or tail quite frankly and on-screen, instead of appearing as a laid-back (yet glitzy) interview-based show, it came off as stiff, and yes, a tad uncomfortable.

Yet, Kamiar’s openness and ease, his sense of humour and his fabulous interviewing skills of truly ‘listening’ to his guests (instead of gabbing away about himself), made ‘No Reservations’ quite a success. And perhaps that is what local entertainment television desperately needs – a well-known, down to earth host with absolutely no reservations whatsoever!

FAQ magazine

Disaster strikes the World Performing Arts Festival

Posted by: Sonya Rehman on: December 3, 2008

By Sonya Rehman

The Rafi Peer Theatre Workshop (RPTW), well-known for the (rather large) hand that it plays in keeping art and culture alive and vibrant within Pakistan happened to face two major set-backs this year, at its annual World Performing Arts Festival (WPAF). 

Firstly, due to the prolonged security threats and bombs going off at every drop of the hat (recent case in point: the horrifying attack on the Marriott Hotel in Islamabad), the RPTW had to pull off this year’s WPAF without an adequate sponsor.

Secondly, even though the Alhamra Cultural Complex (situated in Gadaffi Stadium – where the WPAF is held on an annual basis) was crawling with security personnel, three bombs were triggered on the 22nd of November leaving countless terrified. I was there, and it wasn’t pretty.

Thankfully, apart from a few injuries suffered by three people, there were no casualties. But it could’ve been a lot worse. And that is what’s truly alarming. 

I recall watching Shazia Mirza (a well-known British comedian) at the WPAF this year. Her stand-up routine was fantastic, although it did manage to ruffle some feathers – but she was pretty hilarious. 

I wouldn’t underrate, nor overrate her, she was comfortable in her own skin, and she truly wound up connecting with us, the audience. However I distinctly recall this one joke she made about suicide bombers. Instead of laughing, it scared the living daylights out of me. I found myself looking at the camp’s entrance with just a bit of trepidation, half-expecting a deranged yahoo to come running in jovially with bombs attached to his torso. I picked up a slight tension in the air too. But the audience laughed along to Shazia’s suicide bomber jokes nervously any way. 

Can we really be blamed for being on edge at public events? The past few months have embedded a fear, so deeply-rooted within most of us, that we’ve either ended up being excessively paranoid, or, on the other hand, excessively desensitized. But being desensitized is also, in many ways, another form of fear – it’s just that the mind blocks out the paranoia and shrugs it off so that it can resume its cycle of normalcy.

But coming back to the 22nd of November, the first bomb went off in the Punjabi Complex’s basement. The Punjabi Complex, whose architecture matches Alhamra’s red-brick exterior, sits only a few meters away from Alhamra. Both infact, stand in the same vicinity of the Stadium, almost adjacent. 

When the bomb went off, the sound waves hit everyone present, smack in the face, making it feel as if the bomb had exploded a mere few feet away.

It was jolting. I had been standing with my friends very near to the amphitheatre’s gate – where the WPAF’s ‘Fusion Night’ concert was due to be held. And even though we stood a safe distance away from the Punjabi Complex, we felt the impact. So much so, that it makes me wonder why the local newspapers have downplayed the bomb blasts. 

Who cares how small the bombs were, or how minute their impact was, the fact of the matter is: the bombs were planted with malicious intent – to scare, to threaten, and possibly even, to kill. 

Just imagine, what if the Punjabi Complex’s basement was full of people? What then? Some would have surely perished, if not all. 

It’s just that everyone present at Alhamra on the 22nd of November was darn lucky and therefore got away unscathed.

The blasts on the 22nd of November, I will profess – broke my heart. This was because on that very night, scores of families with their toddlers and children in tow could be seen having a wonderful, wintry Saturday night. Besides, it’s not as if there’s much to do in Lahore any way – apart from eating at new restaurants and checking out coffee house/café franchises! 

And when a festival just as the WPAF comes around, with the onset of winter, it gives one something to look forward to in these bleak, politically unstable, and economically crippling times. 

The evening on the 22nd, after 10pm (when the first bomb went off a few minutes after 10), went by in a daze, in blotches of images which made up horrified faces, screams, and an exit gate which seemed too far away.   

Running as fast as we could to safety, towards the exit gate, in the fear of additional bombs exploding just behind us, hysterical and imagining the worst; that some of us may wind up dead or without missing limbs, is the craziest and most unsettling situation one could ever be in. And we truly imagined the worst. 

The WPAF was due to conclude on the 23rd, a Sunday, but after the blasts, it was announced that Alhamra’s gates would be shut given the security situation. Unbelievably, the RPTW – adamant and resolute – beefed up their security measures and carried through with the WPAF’s last day. 

In such times, where absolutely nothing seems safe enough within Pakistan anymore, standing up to the spinelessness of terrorists seems like the only option we have left. Why back down and cop out? Why cower away? Why give in to their intimidation? 

This isn’t a phony sense of bravado speaking mind you; it’s a sense of courage which stems from being pushed into a corner and continuously being beaten down. I think, as a nation, a majority of us have just about had enough. 

And if things really have hit rock-bottom, one must remember, that with every downfall, there comes an even greater and more powerful uprising. 

Sunday, Daily Times

Such big dreams

Posted by: Sonya Rehman on: November 28, 2008

 

By Sonya Rehman

Equipped with a BSc (Hons) in Economics and an MBA in Marketing from the Lahore School of Economics, Omar Mansoor had other, far more creative endeavours. 

He was all set to plunge, head-first, into the vibrant world of fashion designing. 

And plunge he did – into swirling rolls of fabric, hues, patterns and motifs – emerging as a designer who has, of late, shown at exalted events such as the ‘Wimbledon Fashion Week’ and more recently, ‘London Fashion Week’ which was held this year in September. 

Thankfully, the success and immense exposure for Omar, hasn’t led to an inflated ego and ostentatious illusions of grandeur. 

On the contrary, the young man remains just as he always was – humble, soft-spoken and extremely approachable, quite like how he used to be during his days at the Lahore School.

Infact, I distinctly recall, many conversations with him after our classes. We’d sit on the benches and talk endlessly about our premature experiences in the local media scene. 

At the time, he was struggling to make a name for himself (by way of his lawn fabric exhibitions), and I was struggling equally, as a fledgling cultural journalist. 

Such big dreams Omar had. And it’s no wonder how far he’s managed to come to where he is today; primarily because of his humility, earnestness, enthusiasm and utter willingness to learn. Perhaps that really is the most winning mixture for success. 

This is because the artistic augmentation of both skill and aestheticism develops only when egos are set aside, and when an innocent zeal is allowed to set it, completely, with abandon. 

But coming back to Omar, who, after the completion of his MBA, went on to work on his designer lawn label for the next two years while putting up frequent exhibitions of his label in some of the major cities across the country. 

And in 2006, the designer embarked on to London where he did “professional courses from the London College of Fashion (LCF), under the supervision of Geoff Oven – an experienced couturier and alumni of LCF. He helped me immensely in teaching and inspiring me to develop a collection which encompassed both Western and Eastern cultures.”

Talking about his experience at the recent ‘London Fashion Week’ (LFW), Omar states: “The collection that I put up at the LFW was a fusion line called ‘Culture to Couture’, which consisted of Western cuts and Eastern embellishments. Initially I was too surprised when I found out that I’d be selected to showcase at LFW. At the same time, knowing that I was the only Pakistani designer to participate in this year’s LFW brought about an enormous amount of responsibility on me. Therefore I made sure that I worked on each and every detail – from the accessories, to the make-up and styling. After the show I was invited to the Pakistan High Commission in London where I was commended for my participation at LFW.”  

Given Omar’s success overseas, what has his family’s reaction been like? “My family was there to support me from day one”, he says; “They actually wanted me to pursue it seriously as a business and not just as a hobby…which is why they asked me to get a degree in business, prior to my taking up fashion designing on a full-time basis.”

Locally, Omar finds great inspiration in the works of Maheen Khan and Zubair Kumman, who, as the young designer states “aren’t restricting fashion to a specific class”. 

“I would like to see Tee Jays back in form as he was in the 80s – he was a guru of innovative cuts”, Omar says before proceeding, “Then we also have the younger blokes – HSY and Deepak Perwani – who showcase their work on an international scale by participating in different fashion weeks around the world.”

Given the lucrative nature of fashion, how does Omar view fashion in Pakistan? “It’s constantly evolving”, he says, “But our designers should emphasize more on prêt lines rather than restricting fashion to the elites. Fashion throughout the world focuses mainly on ready-to-wear lines – and we have a huge market for that too. In London you can see fashion on the streets, while in Pakistan you have to go to a big wedding to see it. Fashion may also vary considerably within a society according to age, class and occupation – but it has to be for everyone!”

With the world as his oyster, and his dream of ultimately making a considerable mark in the world of fashion – in Pakistan and overseas – Omar stands as one of the numerous local artistes who earnestly believes that the sky, really isn’t the limit. And that it never was. 

The Friday Times

When all hell broke lose at the World Performing Arts Festival

Posted by: Sonya Rehman on: November 27, 2008

 

By Sonya Rehman

Draping its chilly, vast blanket over the cityscape, Lahore’s crisp winter arrived prematurely – this month in November.

Purchasing our tickets from the large, black, rectangular-shaped ticket-booth which sat just outside the main gate (on the curb) of Alhamra’s Gadaffi Stadium, we shoved our cold hands into our jackets and jean pockets.

It was a Saturday night (the 22nd of November) and it marked the second last day of performances of the Rafi Peer’s annual (and much-loved) World Performing Arts Festival (WPAF) in the city.

In comparison to last year, amidst the declaration of emergency by the previous government and the clampdown on the media which followed in quick succession, WPAF 2007 (which ran from the 22nd of November till the 2nd of December) raked in a bigger crowd in contrast to the WPAF 2008, this year.

From the onset of the WPAF on the 13th of November (set to wrap up by the 23rd of the same month), Alhamra saw families, youngsters and art aficionados arrive in dribs and drabs. Sponsors, for the Rafi Peer Theatre Workshop were difficult to bag this time around, and much of their own funding went into the festival to cover costs. But that did not derail the festivities. They carried on.

Funnily, Gadaffi seemed pretty packed on the 22nd, as we made our way through the steel bars and the metal detector – where security personnel (young men and women) checked our bags and frisked us.

Everything was in full-swing. The life-sized and brightly coloured puppet costumes (worn by men) interacted with little children, giggling babies, young mothers, and middle-aged couples. Pictures were taken. Laughter echoed. Music from a camp a few feet away drifted out, pinching the air and blended in with excited chatter and easy conversation.

Walking towards the food court and passing the small orange-hued stalls (which sold everything from handicrafts, jewelry, Swati furniture, ornaments, and mehndi stamps), I saw people tucking into plates of hot Lahori biryani, and sipping doodh-pati and coffee.

There were lots of families. Young couples, and even younger children. They came and went, attending shows put up at the various camps, grabbing a bite, and capturing memories on their non-digital cameras.

Adjacent to the food court was the Punjabi Complex, a lovely red-brick building with pillars and potted plants. Since there was time to kill before one of the performances was to kick off, my friends and I decided to check out a photo exhibition at the Complex. It was completely empty, save for a young man at the front desk, and a fair-skinned woman – who appeared completely absorbed as she looked at the life-sized sepia-toned images which stood in and around the two floors of the building.

After about thirty minutes we left, and while two of my friends proceeded on to watch a play at a camp situated on the other end of the Stadium, my other friend –clutching onto her toddler’s hand – and myself decided to hang around for a bit.

After an hour, two of my friends who’d gone in to watch a play emerged. We were ready to leave in a few minutes. But something happened. In the midst of conversation we heard a loud, spine-chilling blast.

As clichéd as this may read, we all stood frozen. From thereon everything moved in a blur in just a matter of seconds.

One of my friends tried to pacify us girls by telling us that a light in the amphitheatre had exploded. But his mouth was dry as he spoke…his eyes large with fright.

Instinctively, all of us knew something worse had just transpired. Suddenly one of the women sitting near the stalls let out a blood-curdling scream.

Looking at her in terror, I noticed that her head was snapped up at the sky – her expression absolutely horrified. Smoke was billowing out of the amphitheatre (although much later we found out it was coming from the Punjabi Complex – only a few meters away!).

There was utter pandemonium when everyone caught sight of the smoke. It was like a nightmare. I began running for the exit (which stood a few feet away). While I ran with the rest, everything appeared like one big blur – like an oil painting gone wrong. “Bhago!” someone screamed.

I felt as if my legs had become lead – it was almost as if I was running in slow motion. It was the weirdest and most helpless feeling I’ve ever felt. And call it an overdose of Hollywood flicks, but when I caught sight of the smoke billowing out of the amphitheatre; I truly thought it was going to explode into us. I didn’t think we’d get out alive. I’m certain none of us did.

Making it through the exit gates and into the car parking lot, my ears still rang with the echo of the first blast. The sound of a bomb – no matter how great or small – is incredibly intense, unnerving and shattering. The core sound of it is loud, no doubt, but it is the blast’s sound waves which truly hit you and throw you off balance. It leaves you reeling in utter shock, knocking the wind out of you.

Coming back to the car parking lot, we split up into two groups; some of us decided to hitch a ride in one friend’s car, while my friend, her husband and their toddler went in their own car; which was parked at a further distance, in the opposite parking area.

We had decided to get out of the Stadium as fast as we could and meet at a common spot.

While the young couple ran to their car, the rest of us ran down the road – which was by now chock-a-block full with panic-stricken families in their cars, television channel vans, an ambulance and two jeeps full of cops.

On our way down towards the car – trying to keep our balance, running hand in hand, on the curving pavement, we passed by a group of young boys in hoodies – their eyes glazed. They’d been smoking pot. The stench reeked off their clothes and they were headed to Gadaffi, wanting to witness some of the action. Idiots.

Reaching the car in a matter of minutes, we piled in while my friend pressed on the pedal and got us out of the Stadium’s entrance. Her face was ashen. Taking the road through Liberty Market, we got caught in a traffic jam, but managed to worm our way out quickly. That was when we found out that the second bomb blast (also planted in the basement of the Punjabi Complex – just as the first) went off. It was horrifying. How many more bombs were going to be triggered?

Reaching the common spot that we’d initially decided on, my two friends and I waited in teeth-clenching fear for the rest. Five minutes passed. Then ten. And then a few more. We kept dialing our friend’s number but she never picked up. We didn’t have her husband’s number and sat there in utter anguish. Why wasn’t she picking up her phone? Were they alive? They had to be alive!

The wait was excruciating. We were nearly on the verge of pure hysteria. To top it off, our parents were equally hysterical as they called us incessantly, ordering us back home.

And just then, a car pulled over – and there they were! A wave of relief washed over us. We were alive. Everything was going to be okay.

A few hours later, while watching the news at home, I found out that in total three low-intensity bombs had exploded in the Stadium’s vicinity – two of which blew the doors and window panes (of the Punjabi Complex’s basement) to smithereens. Four additional bombs – the channel had apparently reported – were found in the nick of time and diffused.

Soon after, Usman Peerzada – presiding over a hurried press conference (and seated with his brothers Sadaan and Faizan) stated that they remained undeterred by the act of terrorism, which was pure cowardice, and that the WPAF’s last day (the 23rd of November) would be carried through, and not cancelled.

And it did. All power to the RPTW for sticking to their guns (literally!) and not caving in. It was pretty commendable. GEO TV covered Sunday’s festivities via a live transmission which was fantastic to watch. My heart swelled with pride. It seemed, art and culture in Lahore, was not yet ready to give in.

Pictures by: FADZ and Baroosh Qasim


Instep Today, The News International 

“There’s a certain stigma attached to ghungroos and tablas” – Fasi-ur-Rehman

Posted by: Sonya Rehman on: November 19, 2008

 

By Sonya Rehman

Originated from North India, Kathak today stands as one of the oldest art forms of dance in the world today.

(Above: Fasi-ur-Rehman)

And like its name – meaning ‘story’ (in Sanskrit) – Kathak is a dance which communicates. So much so, that as the dancer performs and narrates stories of love, loss, pain and joy (through Kathak) – audiences cannot help but to be mesmerized, and taken in. 

There is a certain magic in Kathak which has hints of tragedy and longing, and perhaps this is what makes it out to be so very captivating. It is the dance of one’s emotions…the dance of the soul!

But given the fast-pace of life today, do youngsters in Pakistan still appreciate this Eastern classical genre of dance? 

Are they still driven to learn Kathak, or does their interest now lie in learning Western forms of dance (Salsa in particular, given the current rage in Lahore and Karachi?

Speaking with one of the most distinguished Kathak performers in the country, Fasi-ur-Rehman – a performer who has been true to his art for a little over three decades – had some extremely interesting views to share. 

(Above: Nighat Chaudry)

He stated: “I don’t think the trend of wanting to learn Kathak has died down at all. You know, since I started out in the 70s, I’ve been hearing people say just this. For me, it’s nothing new, but the way I see things, it’s much better now. During Zia’s regime things were a lot more different, Kathak performances were banned, and at that time it was only taught in schools – no public performances. But it’s a lot better now as there are many children who want to learn Kathak. And with Kathak, as one dances, you seem to understand yourself better; you end up discovering your inner self”, Fasi said before going on to say: “Therefore what can be better? And it is this current generation which wants to discover their inner selves. This is because they don’t think badly of classical dance; even when boys want to dance…no one judges them because there’s so much awareness in this day and age, and the level of thinking has increased. When I used to perform in the 70s, 80s and 90s, a majority of the audience comprised of an older crowd. But when I perform now, a majority of my audience is youth-based who really enjoy watching Kathak performances.” 

Nevertheless there still seems to be a stigma attached to dancing in the current scenario. Even though Fasi was never pressurized by his family to quit dancing professionally, and that they were very “lenient” towards his chosen career path, what does Fasi make of this stereotypical outlook regarding dance? 

(Above: Sheema Kirmani)

He remains positive, stating; “See, I’ve been in this profession for a long time – but I find it better now. I’m sure there are people out there who say that there’s a stigma attached with classical dance, but it isn’t as it used to be in the past.” 

Fasi was right. With the advancement of time, and the alteration of thought, culture and ideology, Pakistani society sure has learnt to become far more tolerant than what it used to be. 

Yet, teaching Kathak on a regular basis at the Lahore Grammar School (LGS) for girls, I am informed by Fasi that none of the girls are allowed to perform publicly – only for their in-house school functions solely. 

In addition to teaching at LGS, Fasi also gives Kathak dance performances (once every month or so) and lecture demonstrations at certain institutions in Lahore – some of them being the National College of Arts (NCA) and the Lahore University of Management Sciences (LUMS). 

But coming back to the subject of whether or not Kathak is a fading, local trend, perhaps it would be unfair to affirm that it is. This is because, as Fasi elaborated, the youth within the country have begun to enjoy Kathak performances. 

On the other hand, Kathak is oft equated with ‘mujra’ by some people in the society. Why is it then considered alright for young girls (especially) and boys to perform racy Bollywood numbers at full-fledged weddings? Is that not ‘mujra’ too, then?

Agreeing that it is indeed two-faced, Fasi enunciates: “It’s very hypocritical. In the school where I teach some of the girls aren’t allowed to dance, but at the same time their parents are happy when the girls dance at these functions. There’s a typical psyche attached with ghungroos and tablas – people think there’s something not right about it and that perhaps, it’s linked with prostitution”. 

In the final analysis, it all boils down to this: that given the metamorphosis of Pakistani culture, Kathak is far from dying out. 

Sure, at the same time, many would subscribe to the notion that attention has been diverted to Western forms of dance – considering the gradual rise of private and public Salsa and hip hop dance classes in the cities of Lahore and Karachi…Kathak remains far from fading out. 

Till today, at world performing arts festivals, events and galas, Kathak maestros such as Sheema Kirmani, Naheed Siddiqui, Fasi-ur-Rehman, Nighat Chaudhry and others, are asked to perform. 

Held in high esteem, respected and cherished, our Kathak luminaries are far from fading into the fabric of the past. 

Because after all, who would want to disown a form of art which makes one’s soul whirl and dance?

Newsline

Hope’s embers have not quite faded…

Posted by: Sonya Rehman on: November 14, 2008

 

By Sonya Rehman

Quite frankly, I’m utterly jealous of America right about now. Just a few days ago it was announced on every news channel – local and foreign – that Barack Hussein Obama has officially been declared as America’s 44th President. 

Addressing the hordes of Americans in Grant Park, Chicago, soon after the results were announced, Obama’s speech was moving, inspirational and incredibly charged. The type of speech which can be – without a doubt – juxtaposed to those very speeches (which went down in history) made by revolutionaries; Martin Luther King and John F. Kennedy. 

Watching him address America made me awfully emotional. And it made me wonder when the time would come for my generation; my conflicted, jaded generation to see a man (or woman) just as Obama leading this wounded, frail land that we call ‘Pakistan’.

 

When will change come to our soil? When will the continuous rape of this land and its people come to a standstill? 

Forgive me for being an optimist, but I believe it will. I won’t judge your cynicism, for I know where it stems from. It stems from an inherent fear, a deep-rooted paranoia that you may wind up jaded all over again. Therefore you play it safe as a skeptic. But you are world-weary, that is all. However, you must learn to trust. To have hope. To truly ‘believe’ that it can happen. That maybe, just maybe, Pakistan really isn’t doomed.  

Practically speaking, you and I – we may not live to see the day, but our children, and theirs just might. Hope’s embers perhaps can be prodded a little to kickstart a warm, glowing fire again. 

A fire which will warm us, as we huddle around it – shoulder to shoulder – knowing that the time for us being scorched – day in and day out, is finally over. 

In an article published in an international magazine, Fatima Bhutto puts her point across quite aptly: “Pakistan is not a failed state. It’s the country’s leaders that are failures”, she states, “In the 21st century, Pakistan remains a rich and diverse country held hostage to a government chock full of ill-equipped and unqualified carpetbaggers.” 

Fatima couldn’t have been more right. It angers me, just as it angers you, that a murderer and a looter stands tall as our current President. 

That he stands self-assuredly, with confidence and pride, given his soiled track record of the not so distant past. Such irony, that he now holds and commands the reigns over a downbeat and disillusioned nation.  

One of my closest friends, Ayesha, said something quite hilarious a few weeks ago. She said: “Who knows, with Zardari anything can happen – he might just sell us off to Wal-Mart!” 

But on a serious note, what we as Pakistanis need right now is patience, perseverance and a hell of a lot of pro-activism to make a strenuous effort to kick-start some ‘change’. 

We need to relinquish farting around our living rooms and quit delving into arm-chair activism. Enough of that already. 

The budding, young Pakistani generation has so much potential and spunk. They have it in them. They truly do. All they now need to do is to start asking questions. To start taking an active interest in socio-political affairs of the country, and to understand, inherently how the world’s political arena is changing right before their eyes. 

 

I don’t know about you, but over the course of the next few years, there are bound to be some monumental changes that are due to take part in Pakistan. We need to be prepared. You and I, for your children and mine, we need to be ready. 

The Friday Times

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