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Tuesday, April 05, 2016

Please stop these idiocies …

Please use the right pronunciation.

(Otherwise you'll be treated like Mumtaz Qadri fans!)


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Saturday, November 14, 2015

Max[x] Your Life

The TV stations were generally so-o-o-o bad, I hardly have any of them ON any more. The TV set is mainly used to watch DVDs that I often buy and often download.

There are, of course, places like Laraib here that do give me fairly new DVDs, dowloaded from the same sites that I could, too, if I had the time. In fact, now that I am older, I do have the time, so I download movies and documentaries and music stuff every day. Going to Laraib has now remained only when a friend from Bangladesh drops in and he goes to buy his selections. I buy a piece or two, myself, then.

There are so many great TV Channels round the world that we can't see, regardless of the various 'blackboxes' that we may get from one company to the next. 'Get a 100 channels in our box', says the company and you can get about 60 that are of no use, about 10 that are repeats, and the few that are left are ok-ish (though the language is wrong during the long advertisements in some).

I keep missing BBC … no, not the one we see here but BBC 1, BBC 2, BBC 3, BBC 4 , BBC 5 that I'd see in the UK. I miss ITV, entirely. And the lovely USA channels. And the beautiful Classical Music channels from around the world.

What about Netflix? What about the superb Video Series that are so much fun to watch? And what about the latest episodes of Scandal, Quantico, Downtown Abbey, and a zillion more. One has to download them after they've been released, cause Laraib will fill up a whole DVD before it releases it.

Then there's Radio. Of course we can get many channels on iTunes, but there are a hundred more. Pandora is brilliant, whether you are into Western or Eastern Music. I am into both ... but am in love with Pandora's Eastern Classical sets. Name an artist. Drop in the name. Listen to him or her. Wow! But what do I do in Pakistan? Its for outside this country so far.

There is, of course, the most wonderful YouTube that is also not allowed here. Oh to be able to see it on my larger TV station.

•••••

Ta-daa …

•••••

A few months ago, struggling with this problem, I bumped into a small shop that had the answer. The manager sold me a little Black Box for Rs 25,000 after I stayed with him and learnt everything about it in every way I could. He was not just wonderful, he was brilliant. So I got it and came home and plugged it in. And Voila!

Oh, once you've bought it, you never pay another amount to him.
Or to anyone.
Anytime.
Rs 25k gets you everything you want.


A small blackbox that has a light in front to say its ON. You put in a little dongle he gives you into the USB socket at the back. You plug it into the HDMI socket on your TV set. (If you don't have an HDMI socket you can use the RGB three socket, too - but its best to ask him. Some models have removed that now.) There's another USB socket at the back and you can add a USB or other Hard Disk there if its got movies and watch that, too. You connect the power supply. Switch on the box … and you are nearly on.

If you have an Internet WiFi, that's fine. Use it. But if you can actually get a cable from your Modem to physically get into the Ethernet port on this blackbox, its even slightly better.

Once you start, it warms up and then you have to set up the internet name and the password and wait. When you see Kodi on the screen, double click it (yes they give you a remote, too). It will get there and after a while it will read up and start adding stuff and connecting to the various things. You'll see that on your TV. Once that it done, you are on!

Click the TV settings and there are hosts of channels waiting for you. Over a thousand so far and more being added. Choose one and watch them LIVE. Yes LIVE. wherever they are.

Select a Movie/TV-Video link, like Genesis, and go …

Find a film. Millions of them there. I watched 1918 Silent Film there yesterday. Click the name ≥ but a choice is that when a whole list of channel names drop down choose item 4 or 5 first. All the top ones are generally busy if its a new film. The film loads. Go ahead and watch it.

Find A TV Serial, say Law and Order : Special Victims Unit. All 17 seasons are there. Choose one. Choose an episode. Click. Then choose the 4th or 5th item. Go!

Looking for the latest? Like you've just missed Martian that was in our Cinemas, recently. It's there. 

•••••

Get a YouTube channel on the list and use a free proxy. Watch anything you want on your TV from that channel. There's Vimeo and more, too.

Radio? Tons to choose from. SoundCloud and more. No limits. Add Google. Can be useful. Google Maps also make sense on a large screen. And the Weather on the top left tells you what its like outside your air-conditioned room.

•••••


•••••

OK ... I don't know if what I've said makes sense to you, but here's a number: +92-300-297-9065; call him. Tell him you'd like to see and buy SatMaxx if you find its worth it. He'll give you his shop's address. Go there. Come back smiling. And never ever miss anything from now. 

Mention my blog, if you like,
and he will take a little extra care!

 •••••

If you have a 3D TV there are loads of movies for you to see. And, as I said earlier, there are many other movie sites that are also visible. Nothing is banned. The chwais is yours …

•••••

Good viewing!
:)



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Thursday, October 08, 2015

When our beloved people die …

These are my views. You may agree or not.

Yesterday we had a ruling about Mumtaz Qadri, the murderer of Salman Taseer. It was supported by most people in the media. This included many (including me) who oppose the death penalty and want him to get an un-parolable life sentence. Think of it: killing is an act of just a few minutes. And then he's dead. It shows human emotions that makes the Government murder a person — which is not really different from what the criminal did.

A long life sentence is something that is going to teach the murderer (all the time) about not just another man's life and the tragedy he caused the man's wife, children, friends, and followers … it will also make him think of his own wife and children. They, in fact, did nothing wrong and maybe someone needs to give them some help in ways to live.

Add to this, if you are pro-death, to the difficulties and the problems we have in our laws and how we frame and get people, often for the wrong reasons, denounced as criminals. Happens frequently. Just think of Aasiya Bibi, right now! I think the courts should move ahead and pardon her. To hang an innocent person is far worse …

But I also thought of ways beyond this murder.

What does the State (or the Government of that time that we have 'contracted' to run the State until the next elections) do when a person dies or is killed or gives up his/her life in a battle or war? How does it make sure that these people are honoured for a long time and our children and their children read about them or talk about them?

Nothing, really!

Let me tell you what we do: In the military circles many roads are named after such heroes … which is right. After all it was one of them who gave up his life fighting hard for the lives of the rest of us. His colleagues and his juniors honour him. He joined the forces, knowing that this was a risk he was taking. I feel sorry for his family, too. And their amazing courage.

Often, though, many main roads in the cities are named after them. I move around Karachi a lot …and go to Lahore, often. I can't recognise more than a couple of names and what they did. I ask young people in Lahore and they say so-and-so is a 'Shaheed', but they don't know which war with India he fought. I was also told that one person died in our 'war with Russia', when I knew that was not true.  Incidentally, how many main roads are named after war heroes? Take a look at this page, for example, and see. And you can find many others, too.

There's also a lot more that we miss out on.

Take the murders of Salman Taseer, Shahbaz Bhatti, Sabeen Mahmud, and may more. If the Government wants us to remember them, how about naming the places where they were murdered linked to their names. A Memorial Square, maybe? Perhaps with a link to their websites written on a stone under it … for the young go their often. Let them see what honest people, doing honest and respectable things, were killed for. By whom, too, if we really know.

A Salman Taseer Roundabout or a Shahbaz Bhatti Avenue shouldn't be too difficult. The Sabeen Mahmud Square - at the place where she was shot - should be no problem, at all. In fact the latter would be put up by DHA/CBC and show that they care, too, about the things these people did for this country: their country and our country.

How about Postage Stamps? They go on our mails abroad and within Pakistan. Let's have their images on them. That should be an ideal follow-up to the series of those who helped make Pakistan and have images on stamps already. After all, these people were the ones who tried to keep Pakistan safe and better for many of us. In fact people around the world held services for them.

I'd love to see small paragraphs in our Pakistan Studies books? Books that children get bored of reading fairly soon may become more exciting when we have newer paragraphs on people they have seen. And one can keep changing these every few years to keep them updated.

Do you think we can do this?

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Friday, September 25, 2015

Its all going to be online now …


Starting with my very first cartoons (and I mean my very first, coz I had never drawn one before) that started being published in The Friday Times, I did a few other things: A few cartoons for The News; A few Photos or Book Covers or Contents, suitably altered; a few Fake-Ads. And maybe a few more items.

Sadly, my dear friend, my adopted daughter, my mentee … and then my mentor, Sabeen Mahmud (Sab), is not here any more. And I can't even try to tell you how many of us feel about this. There are nothing but tears that flow out. Every few hours. Every day. And there are many silent sobs in between.

Sab had asked me to print quite a few of the cartoons and put them up at T2F for 3 days, beginning with my birthday. (I'll be 75 on the 2nd October this year). The cartoons & similar stuff is now being put up on Tooniyaat. If you go there, start with the oldest post (Howdy) and then move up. This way you'll get the chronological order in which they were published.

There was her idea of having me appear on a program at T2F, on the 2nd & 3rd October, where I'd be asked questions by her about my crazy life and crazier ideas. She mailed me a long list of questions that she'd ask. Yes, Sab. I will answer them, too, in Koee Mayday Dil Say Poochhay, a recent blog that I have started. The posts on these may be written, pod-casted, or video-casted.

Among things that Sab thought T2F would print some day would be my poetry book, and a collection of my father's stories, essays, and poems. My poems are now put up every Sunday, (though not in any chronological order). You can see them on Alam Zadah.

My father, Abi (or Azhar Kidvai), has a website now - and it is being added to every few days. It will have his entire collection, including all his verses in his own handwriting. There are some memories and some pictures, too.

Bye.

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Saturday, September 19, 2015

Abi: 11.04.1900 - 19.09.1963



Azhar Kidvai was born in Rampur (India) on 11th April, 1900

My father, Abi is what I called him, was named Azhar Ali Kidvai by his father (Safdar Ali). Abi was also named Khaaqaan Alam (many people had two names in the olden days), but he rarely used this name after he grew up … and he gave up his middle name.. In Urdu his name (ازہر قدوائ) had a ز and not ظ. Why? Think of Jaamaé Al Azhar. It means another thing when you write it with ظ. In English it was spelt with a K instead of Q. Why? Because the name is Turkish. Kidvais are descendants of Kazi Kidva who was a Turkish Judge under King Baber's rule. There is no Q for ق. There's just a K. Think of Koran. Also, و is written as V in Turkish, not W. Here is an image of their full alphabet.


The W for و was added when Hindustani Transliteration took place … earlier than Turkish Transliteration. This changed و into a W, despite the fact that the pronunciation is that of V.


A picture from a London Collection of Family Logos.
I have this in my house now in wood and brass.
The Latin translated to English means "I shall not altogether die'.

This blogpost, 52 years after his death, is to tell you of a new website that I have started putting up.It will get ready in a week or two but there are enough things there for you to see.

He went to MAO (Aligarh School and College) and did a BA in English Literature. Was arrested for his political views by the Brits ruling India. Later, he became a Doctor, was a Major in the British Forces during the Second World War. He was also a poet, a writer of stories and essays, and a great lover of classical music (Indian and Western). He sang fairly well, but only among friends. He used to do a wonderful Scottish accent, after having passed his Medicine from Edinburgh. He lived and practiced in Monifieth, a small town in Scotland.

His father, Safdar Ali, did send him there but then refused to send him money, though he had a lot of it. Abi's life there was odd, because of a lack of funds. He eventually was put into hospital where one of his kidneys had to be removed. I heard this from his friends, while he was alive. I asked him and he said he would never have told me this, because it was "between me and my father". (His father died in Dacca several years after Abi's death.)

Abi was an Atheist in his early life, but eventually became a rather strong Muslim. In his last few years one could always see him with a tasbeeeh, reciting his words of faith. He said eight prayers every day: the five Farz many do, plus TahajjüdChaasht, and Ishraq. The last time he prayed was only a few minutes before his death.

Despite being a strong Muslim and reading several religious books, he also read extensively in English and Urdu — Fiction and Non-Fiction. He introduced the writers to me, just as he gave me my love of music.

A strong Congress-person, he decided that we'd stay in Delhi … but our house and his clinic were burnt down so he migrated to Pakistan on a temporary basis (in 1947). Dr. Syed Mahmud (my wife Nuzhat's naana) and Pandit Jawaharlal Nehru said to him that the troubles in Pakistan would end in 5-6 months and we'd be 'good neighbours later'. These things never happened and showed how little the Congress knew what lay ahead.

Abi died at the age of 63, after several repeated heart attacks over the years, heavy diabetes, a constant ringing in his ears, occasional faintings, and - finally - a brain haemorrhage at Anklesaria Clinic, Karachi. He seemed well as I saw him, arriving in Karachi the day before from my trip. Sadly I was on duty on the ship that night/morning and did not see him pass away.

•••••

1. Yaad Daasht

2. Links: A collection of my previous blogposts about him.

3. Stories that were written from 1928 onwards and were published as Nai Paod (نئ پود) in 1939, two years after he wrote his last playlet. The original cover and the inside page (Printed 1000 copies : Price Re 1), are also scanned and shown here.

These are followed by scans from his own handwriting.
(In some places it has not been possible to remove the paper lines.)

4. Ghazals, that were kept in a ruled booklet and named Parvaaz. 

5. Rübaais, Qit'aas, Nazms - which were filed under a small folder, called Parvaaz 2.

6. Humorous verses which Abi wrote under the takhallüs 'Shaikh Ji'. He put them in a separate collection, called Laghv Goi.

7. Tasveerayñ — a collection of some images. More will be added as I find them.

•••••

Sabeen Mahmud loved his stories that I read out to her. I also recited a few of his verses. She had one piece on her softboard in her office. She wanted me to publish his works, specially in his own writings, under T2F's planned idea of opening up a publishing unit. That never happened.

The collection is now on the Internet
where many will be able to read it.

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Monday, September 07, 2015

Bowled Over by Imran Khan!


A Picture of IK that caught Dr. Israr's attention.
Israr said that women should not be allowed
to watch a Cricket Match since
the bowlers actions
[s]excite them.
I loved IK when he was a Cricketer.
I hated him since he moved into politics.
I really couldn't stand his views on youths and women.
(Strangely, both vote for him.)

These quotes are from an old interview in
The Friday Times
(Jan 19-25, 1995)


Parliamentary System

Parliamentary system of democracy is nonsense. I am asked why I do not enter politics. I say that for a start I don't believe in getting into a system in which you have to pay exorbitantly to get elected. Secondly, this party system parliamentary democracy, this is just nonsense.The discipline of the party system means that sometimes you have to compromise, you have to lie in public. Therefore only a certain kind of personality is suited to this system and I cannot be part of it. I'm much better outside politics.

The current leaders haven't a clue which way they are taking us. Someone at the top has to set an example, and then be determined to set things straight. If you paid bureaucrats a better salary, for example, they would collect taxes. Their salaries are unrealistic in the first place. So they become corrupt. l don't want to talk about solutions, or what system would be best for the country because I don't want to get into politics. Every government has asked me to join them and I have always refused.

Karachi's Youths

The reason people here wear trousers and shirts is to show that they are a degree better than the common man. I am ashamed to see the upper class youth of Karachi, for instance. What relevance have they to Pakistan? If you left them in a village they would probably get lost.

The West & Us

Familly is their biggest weakness. Our strength is our family system. While I was in university I read Germaine Greer‘s "The Female Eunuch" and thought women‘s lib was right. I now realise that it's impractical.

[The women] are all on diets and half of them have anorexia. In discos, all the fat women sit on the side and get drunk and depressed.

If reducing clothes means progress then that should mean that the African tribes are very progressive!

I said [in an earlier interview] that having lived in the west I have seen its strengths and its weaknesses. Their strengths are. meritocracy, justice, human rights, and so on. Their weaknesses, their biggest threat. is the breakdown of the family. This is a direct consequence of immorality. Since the sex drugs and rock n roll revolution of the 60s, I myself have seen the breakdown of the family. And then women's lib, which has degraded the status of mother, they say why should we stay home and look after children when we can go out and work too. In other words, motherhood, which is looked up to in our culture, is nothing in the west. As a result their family life has broken down. When men and women both go out to work, soon there is a divorce. How is the home to be run? Degrading the mother's role plus sexual permissiveness has led to the mess that the west is in right now.

l would like to see women have all the rights given to them by Islam. ln my view, men and women are equal but different. What western women's lib is trying to prove is that they‘re the same. They're trying to compete with men. This was never meant to be, it was a complimentary role and never a competitive role. The biggest damage that women's lib has done is to destroy the family. All my friends in the west are divorced.

Men & Women

Men and women are supposed to have complimentary roles, the basis of which is that only women can be mothers. A man cannot change nappies. It is not possible for a man to manage a house. If a woman wants to pursue a career then she shouldn't have children. If you want to have children. then you have to have a woman at home. One has to provide and one has to look after the kids and it cannot be the man who looks after the kids!

Gays

The limits of freedom have gone too far. For instance, I disagree with gays getting married. This is against the norms of civil society.

Rape

The problem here is that the weak are oppressed, not women in particular, that is all lies. When Veena Hayat was raped the government almost fell, but when a poor woman is raped, no one cares. Think about the poor man whose wife is raped. imagine what he goes through! 


Done!

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Saturday, August 15, 2015

14th-15th August 1947


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Sunday, June 14, 2015

Sab: See what a friend says. Twice.

Jawwad Farid wrote these lovely pieces

The first was written following Sab's assassination

Karachi is an insane city. A true Karachiite can never live anywhere else. A visitor can never understand why that is so.  The fascination is irrational and does not compute. Some think it is an asylum gone wild, others feel that the patients have taken over the administration.

Sabeen Mahmud was the head of our administration, the chair person of our union, the flag bearer of our mental asylum. In a crazy city designed for crazy people, Sabeen was our wildest flame. If she captured you in her orbit, it wouldn't be long before you would be wearing that crazy gleam in your eyes. 

When the city went mad in 2007, Sabeen and Zaheer Kidvai came up with The Second Floor (T2F). When you had more than your daily dose of work, family, neighbors, KESC, traffic and Karachi, you could escape to T2F to listen to Tee-M sing Suji Ka Halwa or play Jazz, expose your musical ear to some exotic qawali or equally exotic drinks. T2F was the only drinking hole in town where you could hear Muhammad Hanif read a case of exploding mangoes, in a cozy, intimate, friends only evening. It was a space for Karachi's citizens. An oasis of sanity in a city filled with angry men and women, bearded, mustached and otherwise.

I had heard of Sabeen, we had met a few times but it was only when I saw T2F in 2007, that I realized that Sabeen was just as crazy as the rest of us. Only a certifiably insane person would try and feed a dose of culture to these wild Karachiites or put up a reading library next to a kitchen. 

Boy, did we lap it up. T2F became the place you would go to when you had some time to kill, when you were thirsty for a green apple chiller or a corned beef sandwich, when you wanted to feel normal; the normal one can only feel when surrounded by like minded fools and fruit cakes. And because of Sabeen and T2F's magic, because of her orbit, because of the mad gleam in the eyes, there was never any shortage of fruit cakes.

T2F was my space, our space, Sabeen's space.  A corner where you went for a bit of quiet and a dose of hope.

But T2F and feeding Karachi culture was the sanest of Sabeen's idea. She had quite a few that were really out there.  From taking back the city and the country from angry bearded men who favor burqahs on fashionable occasions and photo opportunities;  to giving voice to those who would never be heard otherwise. Her most remarkable contribution was testing the thesis that a politician can only be born and associated with a political party and a lineage going all the way back to the British, the CIA, our feudal lords or the Army.

She joined hands with a young lawyer from Karachi who became a test case for proving the established political thesis wrong.  He lost the local elections in May 2013 but gave us hope that a quite young man can change our city; one day perhaps even our country.

Mohammad Jibran Nasir was certainly a big step for Karachiites but the real payoff for Sabeen's many friends were her Facebook conversations.  To say that Sabeen was politically active is an understatement.  She was self professed anarchist and experience junkie and she really believed in spreading and sharing that message. Her recent experiences side by side with Jibran made for entertaining, sometimes scary reading.  From taking on the Lal Masjid gang in Islamabad to getting arrested in Karachi; from organizing events, protesting at rallies and dharnas, attending jalsas and commentating on both organizational abilities and content of parties irrespective of their ideology. Boldly going with Amma, to places, locations and events where I wouldn't dare to go without four double cabins.  From death threats that were not funny to distasteful verbal abuse that was shrugged off and turned into Facebook posts and jokes; most memorably her running commentary on one exceedingly handsome heartbroken police javaan, off do-talwar; and of things that could have been, but will never be. 

I didn't consider myself a friend of Sabeen, because I didn't do anything to earn that title. I loved her work, her intellect, her curiosity and her stance. I admired her wicked sense of humor and her desire to question overzealous authority and self righteousness. We had great conversations on political king makers in the city.   To me she was a symbol of what this city could be if my fellow fruit cakes took it over.  In a town where everyone talks in double speak, where empty grand expressions use cheap lyrics from Bollywood songs, where we invoke the depth of oceans and the height of mountains at every opportunity we get, Sabeen spoke plainly and simply.   

6 years ago, post a conference that we both spoke at, Sabeen said, "You made me cry two days in a row Jawwad Farid."

Right back at you, Sabeen Mahmud.


Ps. Don't give Steve a hard time about Cook's follies. 


The second was written after Sab's funeral

I think she had the most fun today, she had had in a while.
 
Sabeen Mahmud, a fluent speaker of colloquial French in many languages, would have had a field day with words today.  Starting off with "the bastards never showed up in such large numbers when I was alive".

The second floor was an amazing sight this afternoon. As soon as Zaheer Kidvai posted that Sabeen would come one last time to T2F to say farewell at half past three, a crowd started gathering outside.  

There was no way to describe the mix at 5th Sunset Lane this afternoon. In attendance were beards and wild hair, lefties and righties, two little girls with small handmade placards, three babies carried by their dads, young men and women; guests from Lahore; clean shaved teenagers, sons and daughters; silver grandmothers dressed in white; grayed grandfathers with their walking sticks; founding members of the original men and women student congress that ran the first civil resistance campaign in our history in the fifties and the sixties.

Sabeen bound all of us together.  That was her magic. We were her lost cause.

Also flowers, tears and silence.

We parked without getting in each other's way; we left in a procession of cars aligned in a single file. 

When she finally came to Sunset Lane on her way to the Masjid, we walked with her to T2F and back one last time.  

Sabeen was buried in a tree line graveyard by her family and her friends, this evening. We stood still, row upon rows of men and women, underneath neem trees with our silent goodbyes. 

Shahjahan said it, "I am not crying for her."

I brought my son with me. Told him I want you to remember this day, this crowd standing around, alive yet still; I want you to remember the grief, your father crying in the open in front of a thousand men.  Don't you forget that silence has a price that we have already paid.  


"Ulloo ke pathon kee tarha itnay saal se hum sarkon par nikaltay rahay haen. For every marginalized, oppressed group. And for years, people have mocked us and laughed at us for our small numbers. You doubted our motives. You questioned our agendas. You bastards. If you had joined us, we wouldn't have been so pitiable. We would have had a movement by now. We would have had strength in numbers. But no, you sat behind the comfort of your monitors and made fun of us on Twitter and Facebook and in your newsrooms. You said, give us something new. Give us something different. Theater karnay thoree nikaltay haen hum aap logon ko khush karnay ke liye. Maana ke Press Club ke baahar kharay honay se kucch naheen badalta laykin jo aek se aek aqlmand haen aap log, jo tanqeed karnay mayn itnay tez haen, yaar aap log kahaan they? Sind Club se fursat ho tau kabhee aa jaen aap log bhee, koee innovative soch le kar jo shaed aap ke Harvard aur Columbia ke professors ne sikhaee ho aap ko. Ya kiya aap ke mummy daddy aap ko nikalnay naheen dayn ge?"  

Sabeen Mahmud, March 2014.

•••••
— a Translation —
For years, like idiots we have been protesting on the streets. For every marginalized, oppressed group. And for years, people have mocked us and laughed at us for our small numbers. You doubted our motives. You questioned our agendas. You bastards. If you had joined us, we wouldn't have been so pitiable. We would have had a movement by now. We would have had strength in numbers. But no, you sat behind the comfort of your monitors and made fun of us on Twitter and Facebook and in your newsrooms. You said, give us something new. Give us something different. We are not in it to put on a show for your benefit or pleasure. Understood that protesting outside Press Club in Karachi is not going to change anything but where were you when we needed you; the intelligent ones, the so quick to criticize crowd. If you could find some time from your busy schedule at Sind Club, please join us, with your innovative ideas, ideas that your Harvard and Columbia professors may have taught you. Or is that your mummy daddy won't let you come outside and play.  

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Friday, June 12, 2015

Sab … again!


There's still nothing I can say …
… and it would never be as well written as
Shahjahan Chaudhry's message on her assassination.

•••••


Dear Friends of Sabeen,

Sabeen was a fearless spirit - perhaps the bravest woman I have met in my life. If there was a cause that deserved a champion, if there was a group that needed a hero, if there was a person with a story that needed a voice - Sabeen would not just raise her hand but also stand in the sun, walk a dangerous mile and push the cause or group or person beyond what they ever imagined.

But she was not ordinary in her approach. She was defiant, original and artistic - she would protest with taste and eloquence. With passion and perseverance. With commitment and focus.

So one wonders, with such originality and passion and commitment and unconditional service - how is it that instead of hundreds of thousands of people coming together to celebrate her as she leaves us, why were we just a few hundred? Instead of every TV channel running stories on her life, why do we see a negligible mention of her in the news?

She deserved a million people to see her off, she deserved front page stories in every newspaper, she deserved 24 hour coverage on every channel - but it didn't happen. It didn't happen because we as a nation don't deserve people like Sabeen. Because she was too good for us.

While you might look at her art exhibit - Dil Phaink - or at her Valentines Day campaign - Fasla na rakhein, pyaar honey dein - or the discussions she would host about Salman Taseer and the Blasphemy Law, or her interest in Science and Qawwali, or her struggle against discrimination of all sorts - whether against Christians or Ahmedis or Baluchis - or her belief in protesting instead of sitting at home; or her love of art and music and culture and freedom - you might conclude that all this is unfocused chaos of an artistic mind; a renaissance woman maybe, but definitely confused.
I see something different. I see an uncelebrated saviour of a nation - a spark in a sea of darkness. She pinpointed every wrong, every mistake, every injustice that we continue to perpetrate in this country. She did what she could to fix things - and when she couldn't change something, she made it a point to take a stand. She might have felt alone at times, she might have felt scared - but she believed what she believed and she was willing to die for it.

Pakistan is a mess, and everyone has their take on the situation. From the Army to the politicians, from wise old generals to patriotic journalists - but Sabeen is someone who instinctively got it right.
We need more science, more music, more poetry and more art in our life. We need to take a stand when anyone - especially the weakest among us - are persecuted and oppressed. We must give our voice to every just cause, every fair demand and every true story. And we must do it consistently, repeatedly, passionately. Failure is when we give up. Success is when we keep trying.

Sabeen was my friend - she would get passionately angry at a 'wrong' being committed against anyone anywhere. But in the last 1 or 2 years, her anger became more gentle. She was still as passionate about her causes, but her anger did not perturb her as much. She had found a new inner strength that allowed her to smile while fighting for what she believed in. She had come to accept things as they were, while struggling to make them better.

As a friend said, she must be laughing her heart out while watching us. After all, she left us with a bang and not a whimper. The artist in me appreciates her final act: its defiance, its timing, its beauty. But what can I do, I am also her friend so I can't but have tears in my eyes as I write this.
She also left a lot undone. I can imagine myself looking back thirty years from now and wondering what else she would have done. I am already missing all of that.

So if you want to keep her legacy alive, if you want to experience the spirit of Sabeen here and now, and if you love her - be more like her. Be defiant, artistic, original, authentic, crazy, funny, kind, brave and honest - and take up her causes.

She is my hero and I hope yours too. In a different Pakistan, in a better and more beautiful nation - she would be our national hero and a giant inspiration for future generations.

I wish Sabeen a beautiful journey home.
With gratitude,
Her friend,
Shahjahan Chaudhary



•••••

See, Sab. How much your friends love you!


You will be in our hearts forever!


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Friday, May 29, 2015

Sab


There is nothing I can say here ... 


Life is overshadowed by the death of Sabeen Mahmud,
a girl that I loved as my daughter.

•••••

Here are two of her friends, remembering her.

•••••

The first  piece is by Ziad Zafar
- a journalist in  BBC's Urdu Programmes -
who was/is a devoted friend of Sabeen.

BRAVEHEART 

They say they have caught someone, and he has confessed. That he killed her for this or that they still can't decide. Those who were keen to see the narrative of her murder discussed in terms of 'foreign hands' and 'sabotage' are now more than happy to embrace this explanation. The lone gunman, a crazed nut. Easy. No, better.

Maybe he was the man. Maybe he held the gun. But how many fingers were on that trigger? How many men sat around and decided she should die. In what room? What did it look like? How did we come here. 

I dont know who did it, and there are many explanations on offer, but I can't escape the feeling that Pakistan killed Sabeen Mahmud. A light so precious it had to be snuffed out by one or another mutant tentacle of a cannibal state that devours its best. Does it matter which one? The noblest among us was cut down and we could do nothing.

Sabeen took five hits to the chest, but those bullets went right through so many other hearts. Mine is broken too, but from time to time it swells with pride thinking about her courage. It was not the false courage of a politician or the self-aggrandising bluster of some meglomaniac. This was real courage. Quiet and strong. A heart so big, so brave, it is almost excruciating to describe. 

Sabeen was fond of Che Guvera's dictum that "the true revolutionary is guided by feelings of great love". If that is the pedigree than she herself was the greatest of all revolutionaries.  More than anything else, love was her moral compass and guiding force. Those who knew her know that everything she did was based on this impulse. An effort to 'tame the savageness of man and make gentle the life of this world.'

The last thing I said to her a few hours before she was shot was; "Beans I didn't think it was possible to love you any more than I do, and now you have gone and pulled this- You are my hero". I had congratulated my friend on doing something that is increasingly becoming the hardest thing in our country to do; Talk about the human rights catastrophe that is Balochistan; Pakistan's great invisible elephant sitting in the drawing room where even the most feisty subversives tread carefully. Whether or not her death was linked to Balochistan, (I think it was) this remains true.  

Inevitably, Sabeen has become a cause celebre for the rights struggle in Balochistan, and beyond.  In the last few weeks there has been a lot speculation about her politics, from disparate groups wanting to claim her. I and those close to her have received calls from all corners of the globe; feminists in San Francisco, Baloch students in Turbat, filmmakers in Berlin, poets from Northern Ireland, digital hackers from Toronto.  People wanting to know more about her, and what drove her. It wasn't complicated. It came down to just one thing. She knew that whatever else you do, you must never side with the great against the powerless. This was her politics. Sabeen was the kid in the playground who placed herself between the school yard bully and his victim and said “you'll have to go through me first”. And that is precisely why she held the Balochistan event. The risks were not abstract, they were very real. She did it anyway. 

Paradoxically it came at a time in her life when she had tried to take a back seat on the activism front, because as she would say "sometimes its all too much to bear". She had always led us from the front, but now she wanted to let others take the mantle. She needed some air, she told me. "Time to gaze at the stars". The last few weeks were the busiest of her life. She had been consumed in putting together an art installation called 'Dil Phaink' for the South Bank centre, (which is going ahead in London this week). She  was excited. She was happy. She was in love. 

Sabeen is a martyr now for so many, but she had no wish to die. She was not messianic. She wanted to live, she was about life. But more than this, she believed in an examined life, an authentic life- and she knew that in the course of this sometimes you have to put your own head on the block. And this is what I have learned from the life and death of my friend. Our lives are not fully lived if we are not prepared to die for those we love and what we believe. Her greatest gift to me has been this courage. I know that whenever I will feel faint hearted or my nerve will fail me, I will think of her and do better.

Among the stream eulogies for Sabeen there are those that continue to abuse her. Ugly trolls rear their heads from the darkest reaches of the internet with hateful words like 'Traitor' and 'Anti-Pakistan'. If reality could ever be turned on its head, it is this. Sabeen loved Pakistan intensely, in the way that one loves an errant child. With anger, frustration and tears. She bled for every single Pakistani who struggles for basic dignity, and trembled with anger at the thought of cruelty and injustice. She did this all without being zealous or didactic, always with humour and love. Heart on sleeve, but spine of steel. What a patriot should be.

I know that one day I will tell my children about Sabeen and the thought makes me uneasy. How will I sum her up in a few opaque sentences long after the memory has faded?

Will I say that she possessed an expansive sense of humanity which dictated every interaction she ever had with another human being? That she could sit across the aisle with anyone, engage anyone, and treat them with the same dignity, attention and curiosity as anyone else. Will I say that she was particularly fascinated with the intersection between the liberal arts, technology and counter-culture? That she was committed to the left but never doctrinal, liberal but steeped in tradition, that she was an international cosmopolitan with deep roots in her land, her city.

That she believed life had to be lived with verve and gusto, with wonder and curiosity, and had to be experienced through art and travel. That she was a hopeless romantic. That we spent so many evenings together verse in hand, meditating on the passing of time, and the frailty of love. 

That she loved Bruce Springsteen. That she had a child’s heart. 

Shall I speak of her integrity? Thinking about it now sends a shiver down my spine. There were times when she struggled very hard to keep T2F alive, periods when things became financially dire.  Through all this she was approached several times with gargantuan cash offers by certain international donor agencies that are keen to appropriate cultural spaces in Pakistan as part of a 'hearts and minds' campaign. I am witness to the fact that she turned down a 7 figure US dollar sum, without the slightest flinch. "They want my soul….Besides i will never be able to spend that much money!", she told me laughingly. She always had a keen sense of the absurd.  

It has been a whole month, but the tears still come. The strangest notion now  for many of us who were close to her now is the idea of 'getting on with life'. To go to sleep and wake up in a world without Sabeen. How bizarre. Is it possible to get used to this situation? A situation where Sabeen doesn't exist anymore. No, this is a non starter. How can anything go on now? Surely everything must stop and be reconsidered. The Universe must stop to acknowledge this. Surely, as Shakespeare has Ceaser say "the breaking of so great a thing should have caused a greater crack?".

Sabeen was not a politician, or a celebrity but when she died, the world did stop for her. Every single Facebook post, every single tweet, every major news organisation in the world carried her picture. This was the power of an ordinary life lived well.

I suppose it was comforting to know that the loss was not just ours. I am not sure. But I know that despite this, Sabeen who fought for justice for everyone else will not receive it herself. The darkness has not only won, it is unimpeachable and unafraid. 

Many of our phone calls and messages consisted of sharing little tidbits of poetry, a movie gem here a line from a novel there. One of the ones we swooned over recently was a line from Plutarch's account of Alexander's voyage. "Isn't it a lovely thing to live with great courage, and to die leaving an everlasting fame?"

Goodbye my braveheart. My sister, my friend, my pride, Goodbye. 

•••••

Here is Ziad with Sabeen at a T2F program that showed his film: Missing Persons 

Photo by Jamal Ashiqain

•••••

The second piece is by Attiya Dawood, a famous Sindhi and Urdu Poet,
as well as a leading Feminist Activist.


Her Notes on Facebook are quoted here.

صبین جیسی اب ہم لائیں کہاں سے؟ 

یہ ٹی ٹو ایف بننے سے بہت پہلے کی بات ہے جب ہم پاکستان سے باہر ایک سفر میں بھی ہم ساتھ رہے تھے۔نزہت اور زہیر قدوائی کی بیٹی راگنی بھی اس سفر میں ہمارے ساتھ تھیں۔ ہماری قریبی دوست نزہت اور زہیر قدوائی کی وجہ سے صبین سے بھی ملاقاتیں رہیں۔ ہوٹل ہو یا ائرپورٹ کی لابی، صبین کے سامنے لیپ ٹاپ کھلا ہوا ہوتا تھا اور وہ اپنے کام میں ہر پل مصروف دکھائی دیتی تھی۔ لیکن اس کے ساتھ وہ محفل سے بھی ایک پل غافل نہیں ہوتی تھی۔ وہ جس موضوع پر بھی گفتگو ہورہی ہوتی تو پوری سنجیدگی اور توجہ سے بحث میں حصہ بھی لیتی تھی۔ صبین کو میں نے پہلی ملاقات میں ہی ایسا پایا کہ وہ اختلاف رائے کو پورے حق سے استعمال کرتی تھی اور اس میں وہ سامنے والی کی حیثیت یا عمر نہیں بلکہ اس کا پوائنٹ آف ویو دیکھ کر اختلاف کرتی تھیں۔ لیکن اس اختلاف کو کبھی ذاتی دشمنی کا رخ نہیں دیتی تھیں۔ اور محفل میں جہا ں اس نے یہ دیکھا کہ اب بات بے ربط یا ادہر ادہر جارہی ہے تو اس کا پورا دھیان اپنے کام پر چلا جاتا تھا۔ وہ ہمیشہ سے وقت کی اور واعدے کی پابند رہیں۔ وومن ایکشن فورم کا سالانہ کنونشن تھا۔ جس میں لاہوراور اسلام آباد چیپٹر سے بھی وومن ایکشن کی میمبرز آئی ہوئی تھیں۔ غالبأ اس وقت حیدرآباد چیپٹر  - نہیں بنا تھا

یہ گیارہ سال پہلے کی بات ہے
 اور یہ میٹنگ نزہت قدوائی کے گھر میں ہی منعقد ہوٴی تھی

میٹنگ کے بعدنزہت نے ہمیں کہا کہ اب ہم ٹی ٹو ایف جائینگے۔   ہم نے پوچھا کہ وہ کیا ہے؟ ۔۔تو نزہت جو کہ دن بھر وومن ایکشن فورم کی میٹنگ میں بحث اور باتیں کرتے کرتے تھک چکی تھی۔ بولیں کہ ارے بھئی صبین نے ایک گوشہ بنایا ہے۔ زہیر بھی اس کے ساتھ ہیں۔ ہم نے پوچھا مگر وہاں ہوتا کیا ہے؟ نزہت مسکراتے ہوئے بولیں۔۔ جو شہر بھر میں کہیں نہیں ہوسکتا، وہ وہاں ہوگا۔ ہم تجسس سے سب سن رہے تھے۔ اور پھر ہم سب ایک گروپ کے صورت وہاں گئے۔ ابڑو بھی سونہاں اور سہائی کے ساتھ وہاں پہنچ چکے تھے۔ اس دن اس ادارے کا افتتاح ہورہا تھا۔اور یہ 2007 سال تھا۔۔اور مجھے ٹھیک سے یاد نہیں کہ کس آرٹسٹ کے ساتھ بات چیت بھی تھی۔ چھوٹا سا ہال تھا جو لوگوں سے کھچا کھچ بھرا ہوا تھا۔ جس میں نوجوانوں کی تعداد زیادہ تھی۔ اور پھر اس دن سے وہ ادارہ ہماری ذات کا لازمی جز بن گیا۔ ہم وومن ایکشن فورم کے یا ہیومن رائٹس کے پلیٹ فارم پر بھی اکثر یہ بحث کرتے ہیں کہ نوجوان ہمارے ساتھ کیوں نہیں اور ہمارے اس سوال کیوں؟ کا جواب ہمیں سبین کی جدوجہد سے مل گیا۔ جہاں پرانے اور سینئر ایکٹوسٹ کی پہنچ نہیں تھی وہاں صبین نے جھنڈا گاڑ دیا۔ یہ چھوٹا سا ادارہ جو بہت کامیابی سے چل رہا تھا اور ہم ذاتی طور پر جانتے تھے کہ کتنی مشکل سے یہ چل رہا ہے۔ کئی بار ایسے موڑ آئے جہاں صبین کو بھی نہیں پتا تھا کہ آگے کیا ہونا ہے۔ کئی بار ہم نے ایسے موڑ پر گھبرا کر سبین سے پوچھا  بھی تھا کہ اب کیا کروگی صبین؟ آنکھوں میں سینکڑوں اندیشے لیکن ایک ہی پل میں ہمت سے آنکھیں بھری ہوئیں اور ایک بھرپور مسکراہٹ سے کے ساتھ صبین کا جواب ہوتا تھا’کچھ نہ کچھ تو کرینگے‘۔

 یہ خوبصورت بیٹھک۔ جہاں بیٹھ کر لوگ سکون کی گھڑیاں گذارتے ہیں۔ بہت کم لوگ جانتے تھے کہ انہیں سکون کی یہ گھڑیاں دینے والی صبین اس ادارے کو قائم رکھنے کے لئے بہت بے سکون ہوجایا کرتی تھی۔ اور پھر جس عمارت میں یہ پہلے قائم ہوا تھا وہ کرایے کی جگہ تھی۔۔ جو کہ خالی کروائی گئی۔ وہ سیکنڈ فلور تھا جس کی وجہ سے اس کا نام بھی سیکنڈ فلور رکھا گیا تھا۔ ایک بار میں اس عمارت کے نیچھے کھڑی ہوکر صبین کو فون کرنے لگی کہ صبین میں عمارت کے پاس کھڑی ہوں مگر کون سے فلو ر پر ہے، تب صبین ہنس پڑی اور کہا کہ جب اس کا نام ہی سیکنڈفلور ہے تو ظاہر کہ سیکنڈ فلور پر ہوگا۔ یہ سن کر میں شرمندہ ہوگئی۔ اس کے بعد سیکنڈ فلور وہاں منتقل ہوگیا ۔۔جہاں اب تک وہ موجود ہے۔ صبین کی جدوجہد کو دیکھتے ہوئے ایک بھلے آدمی نے یہ موجودہ جگہ اس ادارے کو بطور تحفے میں دی تھی۔ اور اس پوری جگہ کا کرایہ وہ آدمی ماہانہ ایک روپیہ وصول کرتا تھا۔ اس شخص نے اپنا نام ہمیشہ راز میں رکھنا چاہا۔جگہ مل جانے کے بعد بھی اس جگہ کو آباد رکھنا۔ ایکٹویٹیز کرنا۔ ایونٹس کرنا۔ جہاں اتنی سارے ائرکنڈیشنر چل رہے ہوں اور اتنا سارا اسٹاف بھی موجود ہو۔ ریسٹورنٹ کا اسٹاف۔ صفائی کرنے والا اسٹاف۔۔ ایونٹس کا کام کرنے والا اسٹاف ان سب کی تنخواہیں۔ مقررہ وقت پر دینا بہت بڑی ذمیداری تھی۔  شہر میں کمرشل بنیاد پر بہت سارے پرسکون اور آرٹسٹک کافی ہاؤس اور کیفے، ریسٹورنٹ موجود ہیں۔ یا دیکھتے ہی دیکھتے کھل گئے ہیں۔ لیکن پھر بھی کیا وجہ تھی کہ شہر میں ٹی ٹو ایف جیسا کوئی نہیں تھا۔ اس لئے کہ صبین جیسا دل اور دماغ بھی کہیں اور نہیں تھا۔ صبین نے نوجوانوں پر ایسا کیا منتر پڑھ کر پھونک دیا تھا کہ یہ نسل جس کی دنیا فیس بوک ٹوئٹر اور سیل فون پر ایس ایم ایس تک ہی محدود ہے۔ ان کی جدوجہد بھی ان ہی ذرائع سے شروع ہوکر ان ہی پر ختم کیسے ختم ہوتی ہے۔ صبین جو خود بھی آئی ٹی سے تعلق رکھتی تھی۔ کیسے اس نے نوجوانوں کے ذہن تک رسائی حاصل کی۔۔

یہ ہمارے معاشرے میں ماضی کا قصہ ضرور ہے جب شہر میں ایسے کلبز اور ہوٹل موجود تھے جہاں آرٹ پنپتا تھا۔ آرٹ کی فیلڈ سے تعلق رکھنے والے یہاں ایک دوسرے سے ملتے تھے۔ ان کا ایک دوسرے سے رابطہ، صحتمند بحث آرٹ کے لئے دلوں میں اتساہ پیدا کرتی تھی۔ لیکن وہ وقت بیت چکا تھا اور بیتے ہوئے وقت کو واپس لانا ممکن نہیں تھا۔ اور پھر ایسا وقت کون واپس لاسکتا جس دور میں سڑکوں پر ٹریفک جام نہیں ہوتی تھی۔ ٹیلی ویزن بہت کم گھروں میں تھا۔ موبائل اور سمارٹ فون لیپ ٹاپ عام نہیں تھے۔ یا تھے ہی نہیں۔ اس دور میں محفلوں کا رواج تھا۔ دیہاتوں میں بھی شہروں میں بھی۔ مگر آج کے دؤر میں جہاں نوجوان نسل اپنے ہی گھر میں اپنے پیرنٹس اور بہن بھائیوں سے بھی فیس بوک پر یا ایس ایم ایس میں بات کرتے ہیں۔۔ انہیں ایک دوسرے سے ملا کر منظم طور پر ایک ساتھ جوڑنے کا خواب دیکھنا بھی ایک طرح ناممکن تھا۔  اس چھوٹے سے ادارے میں صبین نے کچھ ایسی پلاننگ کی کہ ہر عمر اور ہر سوچ کے لوگوں کو وہاں اپنے لئے دلچسپی نظر آنے لگی۔

 میری بیٹی سہائی جو کہ اپنے اندر بے پناہ ٹیلنٹ رکھتی ہے۔ اپنی بساط کے مطابق ابڑو اور میں نے والدین کی حیثیت سے جو کچھ اس کے لئے کرسکتے تھے وہ کیا۔ اس سے آگے ہمارا بس نہیں چلتا تھا۔ کیونکہ اس سے آگے کی دنیا ہمیں بھی نہیں معلوم تھی۔ ایسا ایک وقت آیا ہماری بیٹی پر، جب اصولوں کی خاطر اسے اپنے استاد سے بھی اختلاف کرنا پڑا۔ جب کہ اس کے احترام میں اس کا سر ہمیشہ جھکا رہے گا۔ تب سہائی بہت اکیلی پڑگئی۔ کیونکہ فن اس کی سانس کی طرح ہے۔ کوئی سانس لینا کیسے چھوڑسکتا ہے اور اس ڈپریشن کی حالت میں وہ ٹی ٹو ایف جاتی رہی۔ جہاں زہیر اور صبین تھے۔ دونوں نے سہائی کو بتایا کہ وقت کی گردش کبھی نہیں رکتی۔ سہائی وہاں جاکر بیٹھنے لگی۔ تو اس ادارے میں کچھ اور بھی اس کی ہم عمر اور ہم مزاج لوگ وہاں آتے تھے۔ ایک دوسرے سے واقفیت ہوئی۔ بات چیت ہوئی۔۔ اور سہائی کی ملاقات وہاں پر دانش سے ہوئی جو پیانو بجاتے تھے۔ اس کے پیانو پر سہائی نے رقص کیا۔ اور اس کے لئے صبین نے ان کو ریہرسل کے لئے اور پرفارمنس کے لئے جگہ دیدی۔ اس کے بعد رجب اور احسن باری بھی وہیں اسے ملے۔ جن کے ساتھ اس نے رقص کیا۔ وہاں پرفارمننس ہوئی جس میں بہت سارے لوگ شریک ہوئے۔ احسن باری کے ساتھ اس نے نرت تال گروپ بھی بنایا۔ سارہ حیدر جو کہ بہت خوبصورت آواز کی مالک ہے۔ سہائی اور اس نے مل کر فیض احمد فیض کی نظموں پرفارمنس دی۔ صرف سہائی کو ہی نہیں کئی نوجوانوں کو اس پلیٹ فارم سے اپنی شناخت بنانے کا موقعہ ملا۔ سہائی نے ا س ادارے میں کلاسیکل ڈانس بھی سکھائی اور یوگا کی کلاسز بھی لیں۔ میں نے ایک بار سہائی کے سامنے یہ ذکر کیا تھا کہ ہمارے بہت پیارے اور عظیم شاعر شیخ ایاز نے میری شاعری مجموعے کے دیباچے میں بھی یہ بات لکھی تھی۔ لیکن انہوں نے یہ بات مجھے کہی بھی تھی۔ شیخ ایاز نے کہا تھا کہً عطیہ تمہاری نظمیں اپنے موضوع کے حساب سے بہت طاقتور ہیں۔ لیکن کاش کہ یہ پابند شاعری ہوتی۔۔ اور ان میں ردم ہوتا تو پھر تمہاری شاعری پر موسیقار کام کرتے۔ وہ گائی جاتیں اور میری شاعری کی طرح سے تمہاری شاعری پربھی کلاسیکل رقص کیا جاسکتا۔ مگر افسوس ایسا نہیں ہوسکتاً۔ شیخ ایاز کے سامنے میری حیثیت تنکے جتنی بھی نہیں۔ مگر پھر بھی میں نے ان سے بہت اعتماد سے یہ کہا تھا کہ یہ میرا مسئلہ نہیں ہے۔ اگر میری شاعری میں اتنا دم ہے تو پھر اس کو موسیقار  گلوکار اور رقص کرنے  والے بھی مل جائینگے۔ کیونکہ نثری نظم کی طرح سے آرٹ کے ہر شعبے میں بھی جدت آنی ہوگی۔ اور وہ آئے گی۔ً اور پھر سہائی ابڑو نے یہ بات سچ کردکھائی۔۔ وہ میری نظموں پر رقص کرنا چاہتی تھیں۔ فیمنسٹ سوچ کو ٹربیوٹ پیش کرنا چاہتی تھیں۔ مگر اس کے لئے اس کو ٹیم کی تلاش تھی۔ اس کے پاس سوائے اپنے فن اور جذبے کے باقی کچھ نہیں تھا۔۔سہائی کو ٹی ٹو ایف میں ہی اپنے ہم خیال ساتھی ملے۔ سہائی نے ان سے اپنی خواہش کا اظہار میری دوست نزہت قدوائی سے کیا اور یہ بھی کہا کہ یہ بات ممی سے چھپانی ہے اور نزہت نے اس کو ہمت دلائی۔کہ اگر تم دل میں ٹھان لوگی تو پھر سب ممکن ہوجائے گا۔ شاعری کے چناؤ میں نزہت نے ان کی مدد کی ۔ اور پھر سہائی کی جدوجہد مختلف سمتوں میں شروع ہوگئی۔ احسن باری جو کہ ناپا کے گریجوئٹ ہیں۔ اور اس وقت تک موسیقی کمپوز کرنے میں اپنا نام بھی پیدا کرچکے تھے۔ سہائی نے اس کو اپنی خواہش سنائی اور کہا کہ میرے پاس دینے کے پیسے نہیں ہیں۔۔ احسن راضی ہوگیا ہے۔ اس کے بعد سارہ حیدر نے اپنی خوبصورت آواز کے ساتھ اس گروپ میں(جدوجہد ) میں شامل ہوئی۔ احسن کی پوری ٹیم تھی۔ ٹی وی اور تھیئٹر کی مشہور اداکارہ ایمن طارق نے میری شاعری کو تحت اللفظ میں پڑھا۔۔ سارہ حیدر اور احسن طارق نے الاپ دئیے اور اس گروپ میں ایک نوجوان لڑکی سارہ نثار بھی شامل تھی۔ سارہ کا تعلق ایسی فیملی سے ہے جس میں اچھے اداروں میں تعلیم حاصل کرنے کا مقصد اچھے رشتے کا حصول سے زیادہ کچھ نہیں ہوتا۔ لیکن سارہ نثار سے بھی اس تمام گروپ کی ملاقات ٹی ٹو ایف میں ہی ہوئی۔ سارہ نثار نے میری شاعری پر ہونے والے پروگرام کو پرڈیوس کیا تھا۔جو کچھ بھی اسٹیج پر چاہیے تھا وہ سب مہیا کرنا سارہ نثار کا کام تھا۔ سہائی ابڑو نے رقص کیا اور تمام کوریو گرافی بھی سہائی نے خود کی اور اسے ’اڑان سے پہلے ‘ کے نام سے پیش کیا۔ یہ ایک گھنٹے کا پروگرام تھا۔۔ جس کی زیادہ تر ریہرسل ٹی ٹو ایف میں اور کبھی ہمارے گھر پر بھی ہوتی رہیں۔ مگر مجھ سے ہر چیز کو خفیہ رکھا گیا تاکہ سرپرائز قائم رہے۔ جب میں پہلی بار ٹی ٹو ایف میں یہ پروگرام دیکھ رہی تھی۔ تو خوشی سے زیادہ مجھے حیرت ہورہی تھی۔ میری ایک نظم کی لائن تھی، شعور کے درخت سے سوچ کا پھل تم بھی کھالو۔ سارہ نثار کہیں سے ایک اچھا خاصا پیڑ بھی اٹھا لائی تھی۔ پروگرام سے میں کچھ دیر پہلے ہی پہنچی تھی اور میں نے سارہ سے پوچھا یہ کون اٹھا لایا ہے تو سارہ نے بتا یا کہ بہت ساری پودوں کی نرسریز میں تلاش کرنے کے بعد اسے کہیں سے یہ مل ہی گیا۔ اور وہ اس کو رکشا میں اٹھا کر لائی ہے۔ ان نوجوانوں کا جوش جذبہ اور طاقت میری ہمت بڑھارہے تھے۔  یہ نوجوان یہاں مختلف قسم کے پروگرام کیا کرتے تھے۔ کبھی گٹار پر کبھی پیانو تو کبھی مشرقی ساز کبھی مغربی ساز۔ کبھی قوالی۔ کبھی کلاسیکل ڈانس تو کبھی کنٹیمپریری ڈانس  ہر طرح سے ان کے پروگرام تخلیق سے بھرپور ہوا کرتے تھے۔ صبین کا ساتھ ان کے ساتھ غیر مشروط ہوتا تھا۔ اگر وہ اس ہال کی فیس دے سکتے تھے تو دیتے تھے نہیں دے سکتے تھے تو نہیں دیتے تھے۔ ایسے میں ٹی ٹو ایف کے ساتھ چندے کے لئے ایک بکسہ رکھتے تھے۔۔ اور قریبی ساتھیوں سے کہا جاتا تھا کہ اگر آپ لوگ چاہتے ہیں کہ یہ ادارہ چلتا رہے تو اس میں اپنی مرضی کے مطابق کچھ بھی ڈال دیجئے۔ صبین نے نوجوانوں کو اپنی مدد آپ کرنا سکھایا۔غربت اور کنگالی کے دؤر میں بھی اپنے فن کو زندہ رکھنا سکھایا۔ یہاں ایک ریسٹورنٹ بھی ہے ۔جہاں جس کی مرضی چائے کافی پیے یا نہیں پئے ایسے ہی گھنٹوں بیٹھا رہے۔ دوستوں سے گپیں مارتا رہے۔ نوجوان نسل کی ملاقاتیں جو پہلے شناسائی اور پھر دوستی میں تبدیل ہوئیں ان کا آغاز اکثر یہیں سے ہوا۔ میں نے بھی اکثر وہاں کا رخ تب تب کیا جب مجھ پر تخلیق کے دروازے عارضی دور پر بند ہوتے ہوئے محسوس ہوئے۔۔ ایسا ہر تخلق کار کی زندگی میں کبھی نہ کبھی وقت آتا ہے کہ اس سے کچھ لکھا نہیں جاتا۔ سوچا نہیں جاتا۔ جب مجھ پر بھی ایسا وقت آیا تھا تو میری دونوں بیٹیوں نے کہا کہ آپ اپنا لیپ ٹاپ اٹھائیں اور ٹی ٹو ایف چلی جائیں۔ اور پھر میں نے ایسا ہی کیا۔ ٹی ٹو ایف کا ایک ان لکھا ان کہا دستور بھی ہے۔۔ وہاں اگر آپ اکیلے بیٹھ کر کچھ سوچ رہے ہوں لکھ رہے ہوں۔ تو ہر طرف شناسا لوگ موجود ہوتے ہوئے بھی کوئی بھی آپ کے کام میں مداخلت نہیں کرتا۔ جب تک آپ خود آنکھ اٹھا کر کسی کی طرف نہ دیکھیں یا بات کرنے کی رضامندی نہ دکھائیں کوئی بھی آپ کے کام میں مداخلت نہیں کرتا۔ 

ہماری بڑی بیٹی سونہاں جس کو مطالعے کا جنون کی حد تک شوق ہے۔ جس کی وجہ سے وہ اتنی ذہنی طور پر میچوئر ہوگئی کہ اس کو دوست بنانے میں مشکل ہوتی تھی۔ اسے  اپنے کلاس فیلوز کے ساتھ کمرشل ریسٹورنٹ میں بیٹھ کر گپیں لڑانے میں کوئی دلچسپی نہیں تھی۔ اس کے لئے بھی ٹی ٹو ایف ایسی پنا ہ تھا جہاں اس کو ذہنی سکون ملتا تھا۔ اس نے بھی اس ادارے میں اپنے دوست بنائے۔ جب وہ انگلنڈ میں پڑھا کرتی تھی اور چھٹیوں میں یہاں آتی تھی تو اس نے ٹی ٹو ایف میں انٹرن شپ کی۔ اور ان کی ریسٹورنٹ میں ویٹریس (بیرے) کی جاب کی۔۔ یہ صبین ہی تھی جو کہ نوجوانوں کو عملی جدوجہد سے جوڑے رکھا کہ بے کار ٹائیم ضایع کرنے کے بجائے کچھ نہ کچھ عملی طور پر کرو۔ اور پھر یہ صبین کی ہی مورلٹیز تھیں کہ میں نے ایک بار سونہا ں سے کہا کہ مجھے ان کے سینڈوچز کی ترکیب تو بتاؤ۔ سونہاں نے صاف انکار کرتے ہوئے کہا کہ یہ غیر اخلاقی بات ہے۔ یہ ریسٹورنٹ کے راز ہوتے ہیں جو میں بتا نہیں سکتی۔ مگر بنا کر کھلاسکتی ہوں۔ سونہاں کو بھی اس پلیٹ فارم پر اپنے جیسا ہی ایک پڑھاکو کتابوں کا کیڑہ ٹائپ دوست اسد علوی ملا اور پھر اس انہوں نے اپنے دوستوں کے ساتھ مل کر ٹی ٹو ایف میں پروگرام بھی ترتیب دئیے۔ حال ہی میں سعادت حسن منٹو پر بھی سونہاں اور اسد نے اپنی تنظیم کی طرف سے پروگرام کیا تھا۔ ٹی ٹو ایف کے شروعاتی دؤر میں ایک نشست ابڑو اور میرے ساتھ اکٹھی رکھی گئی تھی۔  مجھے شاعری پڑھنی تھی اور ساتھ میں ابڑو کی تصویروں کی نمائش بھی رکھی گئی تھی۔ میرے ساتھ کئی بار یہ شاعری کی نشست رکھی گئیں اور میں نے اپنی شاعری سنائی۔۔ اور سینکڑوں ایسی محفلوں میں شرکت کی جو ہمارے ہم خیال دوستوں کے ساتھ کی گئیں ۔اور یہاں ہمارے نئے دوست بھی بنے۔ اور اپنے پرانے دوستوں سے بھی ہر بار یہیں ملاقات ہوتی رہی۔

صبین کے لئے ایک سندھی اخبار میں لکھا گیا کہ وہ اپر کلاس سے تعلق رکھتی تھی۔ ڈفینس میں رہنے والا ہر آدمی اپر کلاس کا نہیں ہوا کرتا۔ صبین کی ماں مہناز بنیادی طور پر استاد ہیں اور ٹیچر ریسورس سینٹر میں جاب کرتی ہیں۔ وہ اپنی فیلڈمیں بہت کمیٹڈ سرگرم اور ماہر ہیں۔۔صبین اتنی باہمت کیسے ہوسکتی ہے؟ جن کے دماغ میں ایسا سوال ہے۔ اگر وہ مہناز عرف می می سے ملے گا تو جواب مل جائے گا کہ صبین ایسی کیسے ہوسکتی ہے۔ می می نہایت باہمت باشعور اور پرجوش انسان ہیں۔ گوکہ ان کی دنیا صرف صبین تھیں۔ اس کی زندگی کا واحد سرمایہ تھی صبین۔ لیکن اسے کھودینے کے بعد بھی ایسی حوصلہ مند انسان میں نے پہلی بار دیکھی جو کہ خود بھی گولی لگنے سے زخمی ہیں۔ جو اس کی میت پر ہمیں ہمت دلاسا دے رہی تھیں۔ ہمیں تسلی دے رہی تھیں۔۔

 صبین کو جس جرم میں ماردیا گیا۔ وہ تھا بلوچوں پر ظلم کی داستان پر ان کا ساتھ دیتے ہوئے اپنے ادارے میں پروگرام کرنا۔ ماما قدیر جن کے ساتھ لمس جیسے ادارے کو بھی پروگرام کرنے کی ہمت نہیں ہوئی۔ صبین کو بھی دھمکیا ں ملیں لیکن صبین نے کبھی ظلم کے آگے جھکنا نہیں سیکھا تھا۔ اس لئے وہ پیچھے نہیں ہٹیں۔ اور مجھے ٹی ٹو ایف کے افتتاح کا وہ پہلا دن یاد آگیا ۔۔جب ہماری دوست نزہت قدوائی نے ہمارے اس سوال پر کہ یہاں ہوگا کیا؟ نزہت نے کہا کہ جو شہر میں کہیں نہیں ہوسکتا وہ یہاں ہوگا۔ صبین زہیر قدوائی کی کلیگ اور دوست تھی مگر نزہت کے لئے وہ اپنی بیٹی کی طرح سے تھی۔ اس لئے نزہت نے اس کے بارے میں صحیح اندازہ لگایا تھا۔ صبین کو گولی مارنے والوں کو کیا خبر کہ یہ گولی کتنے سینے چھلنی کر گئیں ہیں۔ 

صبین جیسی اب ہم لائیں کہاں سے؟

عطیہ داؤد

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REMEMBERED FOREVER


Came into our world: 20th June 1975
Shot for her belief in love: 24th April 2015

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