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Zoomingin: Fashion Week 2010
By Afia Mansoor
Hardly has the buzz from the recently concluded Fashion Pakistan Week in Karachi died down that the fashion gurus of Lahore got together to announce a fourday, 40 designers Fashion Week 2010 PFDC from February 16-20, 2010.
Fashion's most prominent glitterati hobnobbed with socialites at the PFDC Boulevard before the press conference kicked off. When the hall was full of media shutterbugs, models on delicately balanced high heels and eager invitees, Hasan Shehryar Yasin (HSY) started off by introducing the Pakistan Fashion Design Council's achievements in its second tenure thus: "As part of our commitment to Pakistan's development, the council members contributed Rs2 million for the IDPs. We also did a charity fundraiser and collected another Rs4 million for the same reason. Further on, as part of our commitment to support new designers and emerging talent, we gave two scholarships last year and intend to give another two in the coming year. The fashion week in February will emphasise on the business of fashion as we believe fashion is not just entertainment. We plan to promote it as serious business."
Sehyr Saigol, the Chairperson of the Executive Committee, PFDC, added further details, "We are delighted to say that the Fashion Week in Karachi was highly successful. We invite all the designers from the Fashion Pakistan council in Karachi to this upcoming fashion week. Our venue is Lahore; the cultural capital of Pakistan. This fashion week will not be a one-off event. We plan to do two fashion weeks every year. The one in February will focus on the retail requirements of primarily Pakistani clients in summer. Our second fashion week in 2010 will be presented from Karachi. More than international buyers, we will be focusing on our clientele in the country which is so important for us. We will not be inviting any foreign designer since this is strictly for Pakistanis and by Pakistanis."
To a question as to how many retail companies will be participating, the council answered that it was still a bit too early to give an exact figure as work was still being done to engage maximum retailers fulfilling our criteria. When asked as to why prominent designers from the PFDC were not seen at the fashion week in Karachi, HSY politely refused to comment saying that "we don't want to get into 'them' and 'us'.
For our part, we have invited everybody to Lahore as equal partners and our show will be for the cause of Pakistan."
The fashion week arrangements will be managed by Catwalk Event Management Production and the official publicists will be Lotus PR. Looking very becoming in a white Umar Sayeed kaftan, Frieha Altaf said she looked forward to an immaculately managed mega event.
Compared to the standard of work shown in the PFDC Spring Summer Collection 08-09 at the Royal Palm last year and the Swat charity fundraiser, one can vouch that the fashion week will be something to look forward to. However, one sincerely hopes that all the wizards of fash ion in the country shed their cloaks of insecurity to become one in promoting Pakistani fashion to the world. In all honesty, we are a fledgling on the fashion scene of the world, albeit a very talented one at that. While films, politics and development have been eaten away by personal differences, fashion - an emerging industry with immense potential - cannot be left to meet the same fate.
The PFDC's unconditional invite to the FP designers is an olive branch that may just bring about a chink in the armour, while hiring Frieha is also a smart choice I must say. She might be able to win some of her friends from the Karachibased fashion council to the upcoming fashion week in Lahore.
Courtesy Dawn
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Dungeon at Manora where the film was shot — File photo
Myths and legends have always fascinated individuals as tales that appear to be true and believable. The dictionary describes a legend (Latin, legenda or ‘things to be read’) as a narrative that people tell as a true story. Sometimes the details are difficult to confirm, but usually the story names people and identifies locations. The person telling the story usually does not claim to be an eyewitness to the events, but claims to have heard it from someone who knows someone who heard it from someone who was actually there... Legends often contain a moral or a lesson and are told to uphold the values of the community. They also often involve supernatural or religious elements.
Every region has its own myths and Karachi, on the coast of Arabian Sea, carries numerous stories yet undiscovered. Director Khalid Hasan Khan of Outfield Productions (a non-commercial film company set up by a group of young individuals whose mission is to highlight various social issues) set out to unearth the story behind Karachi and its nearby islands inhabited by fisherfolk, narrating the story of Kolachi through a 30-minute documentary film titled Kolachi — The Legend of Morroro.
Khalid and Outfield Productions’ first project was An Early Sunset, a 17-minute documentary on the saga of soccer in Karachi’s Lyari area which was recently bought by the Dubai-based Ten Sports and has been aired at least half-a-dozen times so far. Their second project of 20-minute duration, The Last Refuge of Afghans, again stems out from the makers being ardent lovers of football, this time setting their sights on football in the underdeveloped Pashtun belt, especially Chaman in Balochistan. This is also where the famous Afghan Football Club (AFC) originates from. The aim of the film-makers was to show the world that there is more to this rugged terrain than usually meets the eye.
The third in the series, Kolachi — The Legend of Morroro tells four stories that are not only believable but carry a hint of mystery. The documentary’s opening lines, ‘Myths don’t lie, legends never die…’ makes the viewer eager to know what’s to follow. The film starts off with a man who is fed up with life and is aimlessly strolling by the sea when he happens to find a message in a bottle. The paper within is blank but he hears a voice which beckons him to a nearby cave and here begins his journey of self-discovery. The documentary features four stories.
The first story narrated by Haji Yaqoob Mujawar was the story of the four saints Misri Shah, Abdullah Shah Ghazi, Ghaban Shah and Yousuf Shah Ghazi who choose these coastal plains as their final resting place and how their power of miracles even from beyond the grave has protected the people who dwell in Karachi from potential harm. The second story coupled with facts narrated by Roland de Souza was about the Island of Manora and its significance in history. Next to follow was Wallan’s narration who belongs to the Purna tribe (native fishermen who walk barefoot). His story told of the how presence of mind and bravery helped the tribesmen get rid of a tyrant king many centuries ago. The concluding story was of Mai Kolachi as told by Aligula who belonged to the tribe of Morrna. As the story goes, Kolachi was the sister of seven brothers who was born to a fishermen’s community.
One day, despite the warnings of their youngest brother, they travelled far out into the deep sea termed the third limit (which is near Keamari) never to return. It is the story of the bravery of the lone woman Mai Kolachi who travelled alone braving the rough sea and reached the third limit (later named Kolachi jo Kund) to search for her missing brothers. The documentary ends with the following lines, ‘In this sand time is buried, I am the lost soul of this sand, I am Kolachi.’ In essence these words not only give reason and hope to the man we see in the beginning of the film, but in hindsight it tells us that instead of looking elsewhere we should all look inside our souls to find peace and the true meaning of life, and most importantly find answers in the land we live in and own the land we belong to.
Moving on, the presentation the film was a mix of stills, interviews and dramatisation. Even though there are no hard and fast rules while making a documentary, there are a few points I would like to mention— the voiceover at times became too melodramatic and Roland de Souza who could converse very well in English did not need dubbing. With the voiceover in English I assume that the point must be to reach a wider audience, but in my personal opinion subtitles should also have been incorporated so that one could hear the natural sounds in the background which would have added more realism to the whole picture.
Take for example the last part where Aligula was shown singing a native song. In the few lines I heard, his voice added a touch of realism. Nevertheless, at the end of the day it is the makers’ vision and prerogative how he/she wants to present the idea. Overall, Kolachi — The Legend of Morroro is a good effort and enchants the viewer with interesting stories narrated throughout its half-hour running time.
Courtesy www.dawn.com
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 With the frequency of music channels and musicians increasing at a shocking rate, I’ve often wondered what it is that makes some musicians sustain their careers over decades while others fizzle out sooner than you can remember their names. I’ve always been a firm believer in music education and promoting worthwhile ventures in this discipline, so we at EyeCandy decided to pay a visit to the National Academy of Performing Arts (NAPA) in Karachi to catch up with the renowned music composer and the head the of the music department; Arshad Mehmud in order to take a closer look at what this government funded institution had to offer. So here is our interview with this authority on music:
Do you think music schools are commercially viable in this part of the world?
No, not really. Even the known schools abroad have excessive fees. The Royal Academy of Dramatics and Arts (RADA) charges around thirty-eight thousand pounds per semester. Even with that kind of fees they require a lot of charities to run it. Another example is that of NIDA- National Institute of Dramatic Arts in Sydney; they have a large group of investors and their fees are also really very high because in a performing arts academy the ratio of teachers to students cannot be more than 1:8. We cannot have a big class, for instance we enrolled twenty student and we divided them into two groups. For the teachers it’s double the work too, thus there is this disparity in ratio.
Given the minimal fee of six thousand per trimester how does NAPA manage to keep the institute running financially?
It runs mainly on grants and donations. It has a board of governors and the government funds it heavily. It’s not a commercial institute at all. The aim is not to make money but to provide music education.
What is the admission criteria at NAPA for a music course?
We have a proper practical testing system and only people who have the aptitude to be musicians get admission. You have to be at least seventeen years of age to be able to grasp music. You can’t be totally tone-deaf and expect to get into NAPA. There’s a certain sense of rhythm that is inborn that must be present in you. Everyone can learn to strum a guitar; but not everyone is capable of being a musician. If you don’t have aptitude then you will not get admission in NAPA.
Are music schools registered in Pakistan?
Music schools are not registered, mainly because they’re not many of them to begin with. Also most of the time it is a one man show. Someone who is a practicing musician usually ends up teaching theory as well as practical rendering of music, regardless of the what genre they’re teaching, unlike here at NAPA. Here we have different teachers for different disciplines. Music can very easily be divided into vocal and instrumental and vocal music itself has many genres like classical, pop, rock, jazz and world music. So we have teachers that are experts in their own field and hence can teach better.
 Why has the music faculty at NAPA shrunk since its inception? Are there not enough students or teachers?
Teachers are hired keeping in mind the need of the hour. We have a lot of students here and most of them are screened out during the admission process. Most of the students come and want to become singers, there are some who want to play the guitar and some who want to play the piano, but we have only a couple of students who have registered to play a sitar or a tabla. For example if someone wants to play the trumpet or drums we can hire teachers for them. So the size of the faculty really isn’t an issue, it’s what is the requirement of the students that we cater to.
How well is your degree or diploma recognised nationally and internationally?
We issue a diploma not a degree. We have applied to get recognised as a degree but that has not happened yet. It’s a long process. Even National College of Arts (NCA) got their diploma recognised as a degree after seventeen years of applying. Of course they were in existence years before that but it took seventeen years of effort and hard work to get there. Since NAPA came into being through an initiative that the President took, it is already recognised nationally. We are trying now to have our degree recognised internationally too.
Given how music is generally perceived by the masses how in your opinion can the status of art education and music education in particular be uplifted in our part of the world?
Art education is not footed at all in Pakistan. We’re trying very hard to make everyone realise that music is an academic subject and it should be treated as such. The major drawback in our society is that people do not perceive music as such. Take my own example for instance; I make my bread and butter from composing music. But this happens to be every other day; when someone asks me what do you do I tell them I compose and make music. The response I get is ‘we know that already, but what do you really do?’ And I just don’t know how to tell them that I just do this! This is my job!
Given the subjective nature of music how would you define a ‘good’ musician?
People! You see it is really very clear and transparent because if you’re good you will get bookings. People would want to hear you and you will not be idle and penniless. If you’re not good you will not get bookings.
There are a lot of people out there making millions in Pakistan that cannot sing in tune, can’t hit a note properly and do not know how to play but are booked for concerts throughout the year. What incentive do they have then to educate themselves?
It’s one’s ability to sustain oneself for a significant time that is the deciding factor. The basic aptitude is present in a lot of people. With the basic aptitude anyone can produce a music album, because the fact of the matter is that no one is really trained. But then they lose their fame very quickly. They don’t survive. I’m talking of the pop scene in particular right now, here people who’ve been trained like Sajjad Ali, may not come up with a hit every year but he survives, he gets work. But people who have not trained like say, Jawad Ahmad, Ali Haider even Abar-ul-Haq, after a decade or so are already getting nervous about their future. So I don’t know what the younger generation will understand.
What are your thought on the upcoming dilemma of ‘fusion’ music? Do you think fusion is mutating the pure eastern classical form and feeding the audience with something that’s neither original nor a good combination of the genres?
Fusion is an original melody line. Fusion is actually the thing which you have heard. Fusion started happening in the British rule, e.g. even though the concept of a large orchestra was not part of our traditional music but it was there, even before the fusion world was born.
 Given the complex nature of eastern classical music and how it requires a great amount of training to be delivered accurately, do you think fusion is the right way to go to try to keep eastern classical music alive?
In fact it’s easier. It’s easier to market and commercialise these complex melodies. Those traditional melodies have been tested and tried and the important thing is that they exist. All you do is change the shape and the packing, but the basic structure remains the same. So it’s the same, it just becomes easy for an artist to further his popularity. But then after you’ve consumed all that you know, at the end of the day you run out and realise that you know very little. Then you need to come up with your own thing, because survival becomes an issue then.
How do you think education in performing arts generally can be promoted in our country through the media?
You see performing arts is something that cannot be taught, it has to be learned. So the responsibility lies entirely on the student. They just need to be made aware of the importance of the education and the role it plays in their careers throughout. It’s not the responsibility of the teacher, it is something that they have to understand.
Courtesy www.mag4you.com
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Ramchand Pakistani: Reviving the Pakistani Cinema
By Laila Kazmi
Seattle, WA
For those who have been following the recent trend of indie films from Pakistan, it was thrilling to watch Mehreen Jabbar’s feature-length debut, Ramchand Pakistani, at this year’s Seattle International Film Festival. The film made its North American premier earlier this year at the Tribecca Film Festival in New York City and recently screened at the Osian’s Cinefan Film Festival in New Delhi. It is perhaps the only second Pakistani feature to make it to major international film festivals.
The first was of course the much-celebrated Khamosh Pani (Silent Waters) of 2003. And for of us who have since been patiently awaiting another quality film by a Pakistani director, Mehreen Jabbar has just provided a reason for excitement. Ramchand is skillfully directed, beautifully shot, well acted and offers a moving sound track.
Produced by Mehreen’s father, Javed Jabbar, Ramchand Pakistani is a fictionalized account of a real-life story of a Pakistani father and son of the Hindu dalit (untouchable) caste, living in the desert village of Bhimra near the Pakistan-India border. In 2002, as tensions between the two countries flare up following an attack on the Indian Parliament, eight-year old Ramchand (Syed Fazal Hussain) and his father, Shankar (Rashid Farooqui) inadvertently cross the marked but open border into India. The pair is immediately arrested and jailed by Indian security on suspicion of being spies. While the father and son spend years in prison (with an older Ramchand being played by Navaid Jabbar (no relation to the director), the mother, Champa (Nandita Das), struggles at home, awaiting their return.
Das is of course the versatile Indian actress of Fire and Earth fame. Jabbar has put together a talented cast, which includes several well-known actors from Pakistani television. Maria Wasti is Kamla the feisty prison officer, Noman Ijaz is the interloper Abdullah, who admires Champa from afar, and Shahood Alvi is the officer in-charge of the Indian prison.
Even though the protagonists of Ramchand are Pakistani Hindus wrongfully jailed in an Indian prison, this film is not about religion and not even about political ideologies. Instead, the film is about people and bonds forged out of circumstances. There are strong women characters and no unnecessary plot-twists. Jabbar, who was present at the SIFF screening, described the film herself as “a simple story of a family torn apart through no fault of their own.”
If you are looking for a hard-hitting film on the lives of prisoners in Indian or Pakistani jails, that is not this film. Here the prison is a bit too clean, the guards a bit too likeable, and the prisoners a bit too accepting of their grossly unjust fate.
Still, even in its soft representation of a troubling issue lies one of the strengths of the film. Ramchand focuses on the human similarities that draw us together even under adverse circumstances. In a way, the Indian prison guards holding the innocent prisoners are as much at the mercy of the system as the prisoners themselves. Resulting from decades of antagonism and suspicion between the two neighboring countries, the system of course is likely the same on both sides of the border.
Through the story of Ramchand and Shankar, Mehreen aptly brings attention to the plight of hundreds of innocent people held in both Indian and Pakistani jails in border-crossing cases, often forgotten in the system for many, many years. Although, here the protagonists are Pakistanis jailed in India, the film makes a point to remind us of the similarly situated innocent Indians jailed in Pakistan. Bollywood addressed this topic, though less directly, in a typical song-and-dance love-story, epic hit ‘Veer Zaara’ in 2004.
Unlike Mehreen’s short films and teleplays, which tend to consist of a small number of cast members – sometimes even just two, Ramchand is filled with a variety of characters. There are the cellmates with whom Shankar and Ramchand spend their years of imprisonment, the Indian prison guards, and the villagers back home in Pakistan. Each of the characters, the protagonists and a handful of supporting characters, is uniquely human with individual idiosyncrasies. It is a sign of a skilled director, when all the actors fit into their roles naturally as they do here.
On that note, all of the actors in this film, from supporting to the protagonists deserve credit for their fine performances. Child actor, Syed Fazal Hussain, playing the younger Ramchand, is superb as he very naturally portrays a range of emotions – childish curiosity, anger, fear, and longing. The 12-year Navaid Jabbar, playing the older Ramchand, is a newcomer with an endearing smile. To Mehreen’s credit, the transition between the two actors is so craftily done that it is tempting to believe that we are actually watching the same child develop into an adolescent. Of course, the alluring Nandita Das shines in her role as usual. Among the cellmates, the political activists Sharma (Adnan Shah) and Vishesh (Saleem Mairaj), who has lost his mind from being locked up for some ten years, make a lasting impression.
The cinematography is beautiful. Sofian Khan captures the desert skyline of the Thar in riveting wide shots, making it a film worth watching on the big screen. The musical director is India’s Debajyoti Mishra, whom Jabbar recruited after being impressed with his work for the Indian film Raincoat. And with lyrics by the renowned Pakistani writer, Anwar Maqsood, performed by Shafqat Amanat Ali and the Indian singer, Shubha Mudgal, the film is a truly collaborative effort between Indian and Pakistani artists - a recent phenomenon that seems to be occurring with an increasing frequency. Mehreen’s co-editor, Aseem Sinha, is also from India.
Pakistan’s once-strong film industry has suffered from severe neglect and lack of funding over the past thirty years, making television the primary source of entertainment. Ramchand is the latest among a sporadic number of films marking a slow but hopeful re-emergence of a viable film scene in the country. While the talented Sabiha Sumar raised the standards high with her finely directed Khamosh Pani, films like Raat Chali Jhoom Kay (A Long Night) (2001) by Hasan Zaidi and last year’s super hit among Pakistani audiences around the world, Khuda Kay Liye (In the Name of God), were refreshingly bold and non-formulaic. Still, despite its relevant subject, Khamosh Pani didn’t get a theatrical release in Pakistan, and Raat and KKL could not compete on an international scale. Raat, about a young man’s late night adventure in a seedy part of the busy city of Karachi, was an all-too-obvious low budget production.
KKL tells the story of two musician brothers from Pakistan who take two very divergent paths. One comes to America to attend a music school, only to suffer dire consequences in a post-9/11 America, while the other is persuaded by zealots to join the ‘jihad’ in Afghanistan. Even with a much higher production quality and being credited with bringing the mainstream audiences back to the theaters in Pakistan, KKL suffered from some very weak acting by some of the cast members. A small number of short films by Pakistani filmmakers screening at various festivals over past several years have also been signaling the talents that are yet to emerge.
After the commercial success of KKL in India and Pakistan last year, Ramchand is now the second Pakistani film to have a theatrical release in India. As for the audiences in Pakistan, release of Ramchand has given them another reason to return to the theaters.
Beautifully told, Ramchand Pakistani, is yet another sign that the Pakistani indie filmmakers may yet succeed in reviving the country’s ailing film industry and competing in the international film scene.
Mehreen Jabbar currently divides her time between Pakistan and the United States.
More on the film at: http://www.ramchandpakistani.com
Laila Kazmi is a freelance writer based in Seattle, WA.
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