APRIL 11th, 2010
Mohammad Hanif on Scribbling, Superwomen and the Apocalypse
AUGUST 7-13 2011
Cover Story 22 Back With (Another) Bang Find out if getting a straight answer from Mohammad Hanif is really like nailing jelly to a wall
Feature 30 Graphic Details We have novelists, and we have artists... so why don’t we have a graphic novel? 34 Little Hands At Work Meet two little girls who would rather be in school, but have to collect garbage instead 36 Officer Down Authorities often turn a blind eye to the ultimate sacrifice made by policemen
34
Food 42 Fantas-tikka Sindhi cuisine offers a flavour-packed tikki — a potential iftari favourite for this holy month
22
44 It’s Not Just About Jalaybis Take inspiration from different cuisines around the world this Ramazan — make your sehri and iftari all the more delectable
Regulars 6 People & Parties: Out and about with Pakistan’s beautiful people 48 Advice: Mr Know It All answers your questions 52 Reviews: What’s new in films
42
Magazine Editor: Zarrar Khuhro, Senior Sub-Editor: Batool Zehra, Sub-Editors: Hamna Zubair and Dilaira Mondegarian. Creative Team: Amna Iqbal, Jamal Khurshid, Essa Malik, Anam Haleem, Tariq W Alvi, S Asif Ali, Samad Siddiqui, Mohsin Alam, Sukayna Sadik. Publisher: Bilal A Lakhani. Executive Editor: Muhammad Ziauddin. Editor: Kamal Siddiqi. For feedback and submissions: magazine@tribune.com.pk 4
PEOPLE & PARTIES
Labels launched an outlet in Faisalabad
Asifa and Nabeel with a friend
PHOTOS COURTESY VIOLA PR
Madiha with a friend
Eman and Nazish
Erum and Aleena
AUGUST 7-13 2011
nd
ri with a frie
Erum Bokha
6
Zeeshan and Nabiha
AUGUST 7-13 2011
PEOPLE & PARTIES
Mehreen and Ayesha Neelum and Sadia
Zoha and Rehmat
eel
nd Muttee and Qa
Sherezad Rahimtoola
8 AUGUST 7-13 2011
Jannat, Shahid, Nadeem and Uzma
Ayesha, Saira, Anum and Hina
Rizwan
AUGUST 7-13 2011
PEOPLE & PARTIES
Rahat Fateh Ali Khan performed at a charity show in Lahore
Aminah Haq
Natasha Hussein
Iman Ali
10
Hamza Tarrar AUGUST 7-13 2011
ed Mehreen Sy
Rahat Fateh Ali
in
Yousaf Saludd
Latif Khosa
Nicki and Nina
PHOTOS COURTESY FARHAN LASHARI
Carmela Conroy
AUGUST 7-13 2011
PEOPLE & PARTIES
Dinner hosted by Ameena Saiyid at her residence
Brigitte Ramage and Daniel Baillon Ameena Saiyid
Delphine O
PHOTOS COURTESY OUP
Dr Christian Brecht
rtis and Rah
age and Dr
12
am Christian R AUGUST 7-13 2011
eela Baqai
n
Michel Boivi
Amber Haroon Saigol and Naushaba Burney
Omayr Saiyid
AUGUST 7-13 2011
PEOPLE & PARTIES
The launch event of drama serial “Ik yaad hay” in Lahore
Sonia
Natty
Nickie , QY
d Resham
ar Rana an
oam Mukhtar, M
Sobia and Ibrar
14 AUGUST 7-13 2011
Sofia Mirza
PHOTOS COURTESY QYT
Shazia and Naila
T and Nina
Yasmeen and Saira
AUGUST 7-13 2011
PEOPLE & PARTIES
Ansa and Nina Akbar Dr Zarqa and Shafaq Habib
Poonam, Rach
el and Ahsan
16
Nabeel and AUGUST 7-13 2011
Asifa
Amna Babar,
hail
Azeem and Su
zair
Tony and Babloo
U Waleed and
AUGUST 7-13 2011
AUGUST 7-13 2011
AUGUST 7-13 2011
AUGUST 7-13 2011
AUGUST 7-13 2011
COVER STORY
AUGUST 7-13 2011
back with (another)
bang By Mahvesh Murad
Photographs by Nefer Sehgal
The man who brought you exploding mangoes is back!
Mohammed Hanif is incredulous. “What on earth will you ask me for two hours?” he asks when I tell him how long this interview may take. We fix a
day anyway, but things change and when I do meet him it happens to be on very short notice. I haven’t finished the proof of his new book Our Lady of Alice Bhatti yet and although over the phone he said, “that works for me”, I’m still wondering if I have enough to ask him. I shouldn’t have been worried. When we meet, Hanif and I talk about dental surgery (“so many advances in medical science but why is this still so barbaric,” he wonders), the iPad (he’s been reading Chekhov on iBooks) and with his wife, actor Nimra Bucha, we talk about Kevin Spacey in Sam Mendez’ West End production of Richard the III (she saw it, he didn’t: “Hanif kafi dramay mein so jata hai,” says Nimra). ‘Getting Hanif to give you a straight answer,’ I had been told by a mutual friend, ‘is like nailing
jelly to a wall’. When I tell Hanif this, he laughs it off, saying he’d rather be evasive than answer too many questions about details in his book. He’s glad I haven’t finished reading it, and later tells
me he doesn’t quite understand this current trend of wanting to meet writers you are impressed by. “As somebody said,” he tells me, “the desire to meet the writer is like when you’ve eaten a nice paté sandwich, you want to go meet the duck.”
AUGUST 7-13 2011
I am a very dedicated scribbler, I am a very great recycler as well so I don’t waste anything. For me the act of writing is a bit like reading — when you’re reading, if it’s a good book then you’re discovering what’s going to happen next
Hanif’s new book, Our Lady of Alice Bhatti, is due for local release this September, and is a strong follow up to his debut A Case of Exploding Mangoes. It’s about a young Christian nurse called Alice, and her experiences working for a local hospital. “I just had this image in my head from my childhood,” says Hanif, curled sideways into an armchair at his home in Karachi. “When my mother was dying of cancer in a hospital I spent a month and a half with her there. I had [an image] of this nurse on late-night shifts — and somehow I think when you’re going through some bad things in your life you try to not think about them, you try to think of some little detail — so that image had always been in my head of this nurse who is on a latenight shift and she’s very tired. I don’t know if she was beautiful or not but I remembered her as this beautiful woman.” Rolling a cigarette, he remains chatty and I begin to think maybe
that jelly comment isn’t applicable today. The second source for the book, he explains, were two Christian students in primary school with him in the village he grew up in Okara; boys with whom Hanif
was very good friends, though always third to their top two positions in the class. “Somehow it was decided by the fact that I came
from this one family and they came from another that I would go to high school and they won’t so I never saw them after that,” he explains. “I think that’s how these things started in my head and
obviously when you’ve written a few pages about them, you hope
they take on some life of their own and start moving or start telling you this is where I want to go, this is what I want to do.”
Hanif stops short, as if he wants to add to this but has thought better of it. When I ask him to continue, he politely declines saying it would be “on a total tangent”. But most of this interview is on a total tangent, I remind him, and he laughs, relents and goes on. “I’ve always been fascinated by writing about this superwoman type of character, set somewhere here, but it never quite worked out like that and went somewhere else as most things do. Also, I used to have an editor at Newsline — Razia Bhatti — who died quite young and suddenly, and I was quite traumatised because I was really, really close to her. She was as close to a su24 perwoman as I had seen in my life, she was beautiful and AUGUST 7-13 2011
bright and could just get things done that most crafty men couldn’t. So after she died I used to think I would write about her life and give her all these super powers and try to create a fantasy character out of it, but that project never quite happened.” Instead, he wrote Our Lady of Alice Bhatti, the protagonist perhaps sharing half a name with the late Razia Bhatti and half a name with Carroll’s Alice, whom Hanif once stated was his favourite fictional hero. I don’t ask him about Carroll’s Alice, but I do wonder if he was being facetious about her or not. I’d like to think not. It’s been three years since Mangoes was published in 2008, and while that was set within a definitive time period, around a particular assassination, Alice Bhatti is not contained by a specific moment in history. It’s such a sensitive, bittersweet departure from Hanif’s earlier work that I automatically ask him when he started writing this book, but he laughs at my question before it’s even complete. “I don’t really know what that means, when people say when did you actually start writing it, because before you actually start writing something it’s been somewhere for a very long time. I think the first words I might have scribbled were probably in 2008 or 2009 but I didn’t really know that I was writing this book, I was scribbling,” he
And you get 50 instant ‘likes’ on Facebook, I add, and he agrees
laughingly.
But it’s not a joke — Hanif has over 2,000 ‘friends’ on Facebook,
and almost 3,000 followers on Twitter — people who eagerly wait for every word he types. That’s thousands of people who may or may not all have read his fiction, but who are very aware of who Mohammad Hanif the journalist is.
Of course, the writing will also continue. He admits he still
has ‘about 50 novels’ in him, adding that with them live maybe
two or three plays, a couple of non-fiction book ideas, a couple of films and even a few songs… though he may have to rethink his song-writing abilities: someone gave him a tune last year and asked him to write a song for it, but he hasn’t been able to come up with one yet, he confesses, grinning broadly.
Going back to talk about why he loves long-form literature, he
says: “There is a part of me which likes having something that you’re doing on your own. It’s a bit secretive: others don’t know
what you’re doing, sometimes you also don’t know what you’re doing — I like that mystery element to it.”
While many think Hanif is Pakistan’s greatest literary tal-
ent, many may not know that he is incredibly humble, down to
earth, self deprecating and of course, absolutely hilarious. He jokes, “you guys are too literary for me”, and I can’t help but find that ludicrous, since he himself is so well read and talks so easily about literature — “everyone should read Manto and Kafka,” he insists.
We agree that JG Ballard is brilliant, and he suggests a story to
shrugs. “I scribble a lot, I’m a big scribbler, I scribble for months and months and months before I have some idea of what it is that I’m doing.” And when people asked him what his new book was going to be about? “I would joke that I don’t really know, it’s in a room and I haven’t gone out of that room yet,” he says.
me that I’ve never read. I tell him dystopic fiction is a personal
recycler as well so I don’t waste anything. For me the act of writ-
where no one knows what’s happened and there’s some kind of
“I am a very dedicated scribbler,” Hanif adds. “I am a very great
ing is a bit like reading — when you’re reading, if it’s a good book
then you’re discovering what’s going to happen next. So for me it’s mostly like that — I have vague ideas — notions about things
— but if I knew what was going to happen, what the story was, then I would immediately lose interest.”
Over the years, Hanif has remained a journalist as well, hav-
ing been one for almost 20 years. “I don’t think I would ever want
fascination and when I ask him what kind of apocalypse he could live in, he stops short and thinks quietly for a moment.
“I’ve always thought that we live in a kind of post-apocalyptic
word,” he laughs. I insist he choose a type and true to form, he
picks one I have no name for: “I could live in the kind where there
was a single plane left in a desert — I like the kind of apocalypse shiny shimmering… there’s half a plane… and men begin to disappear.” If any one can work that kind of mystery, it would be Mohammed Hanif, because I just can’t see him being one of the men who disappear into a nameless desert.
Our Lady of Alice Bhatti is published by Random House and will be released in September 2011
to leave that because it has its own kind of instant pleasure. You
get to go out, you get to meet people, you get to occasionally be a part of conversations. You can put in your two bits about what’s
going on — because as it’s quite obvious, writing a novel is quite a lonely process for years and years.”
“With journalism it is instant gratification: you write some-
thing, you get it published, four people will say it’s really nice,
three people will question it, somebody will give you a gaali, and if you’re lucky you’ll get an occasional threat.”
I’ve always been fascinated by writing about this superwoman type of character, set somewhere here AUGUST 7-13 2011
FEATURE
little
hands at work “I see a lot of people who love their jobs. I see some garbage collectors smiling as they go about their work.” Willie Stargell BY OBAID UR REHMAN ABBASI
Contrails crisscross the sky, and the air is filled with the roar of jet engines as planes touch down on the tarmac or ascend into the sky. These are the sounds and sights that greet you on a regular day in Rawalpindi’s Chaklala cantonment. But even as I gaze at the sky, a pair of little voices bring me down to earth. “Bibi Koora dey do.”
The voices belong to eight-year-old Shireen and ten-year-old
Palwasha, two Pathan girls who go from door to door to collect garbage for a living. If lucky, they occasionally pocket alms as
well; their innocent faces and earnest looks arousing pity from people in this well-to-do neighbourhood.
“Why don’t you go to school?” I ask them. Blushing, Palwasha
replies in Pashto: “Our father cannot afford to send us to school.” Regret playing across her young features, Shireen adds, “I
would love to read but I can’t because I’m poor.”
Heart wrenching as her simple explanation is, I try to con-
ceal my sadness at her words and listen on while she tells me of her desire to attend school just like all the other children in the
neighbourhood — carrying a satchel over her back and marching off to learn new things every morning.
“Anyway,” she says, “I am still happy collecting garbage with
my family.”
Their father, 35-year-old Gul, however, has a different story to
tell. According to him, nobody at NADRA was willing to give his
children a ‘B’ form which is an essential document for admission into all government schools.
His failure to fulfill their long list of requirements has left
a void in the future of his children. His monthly income of
Rs10,000-15,000, may be enough to pay for the education of his six children, but the prevailing bureaucratic system — thriving
34
on attestation — prevents him from securing the chance for a betAUGUST 7-13 2011
“Why don’t you go to school?” I ask them. Blushing, Palwasha replies in Pashto: “Our father cannot afford to send us to school”
According to him nobody at NADRA was willing to give his children a ‘B’ form which is an essential document for admission into all government schools
ter life for his children.
Originally from Swat, Gul and his family now reside in a rented
house in Rawalpindi. Along with his parents, he had to abandon
the beautifully serene Swat Valley at the tender age of 10 because of a daunting reality — lack of ownership of land in the village made survival next to impossible. Since working for others on
their fields was frowned upon, the family had to eventually leave
behind their village and their lives to start afresh in a new, more accepting, place.
Reminiscing over his early days, Gull says: “When I was grow-
ing up, it was hard for my parents… my earliest memories are
of hard times with my father, working for so many hours in the fields for one of the local chiefs… I remember one year it snowed
twenty-four inches and my father had to trudge through it under
freezing conditions, with temperatures falling below -15 degrees, just to bring back a little food for our family.”
He adds that he never went to school as a child because his fa-
ther was not able to afford it; he always saw children dress up in tidy uniforms, their hair pinned back and smiles pasted on their faces, racing each other to school every morning while he strode
off to work on the fields in his usual mud-stained attire. It was hard for his father to support his family of six; huddled in a tiny
room, made from mud walls, they would rely on each other’s warmth to ward off the winter’s chill.
Upon their arrival in Rawalpindi, a move from a tiny mud
hut to a small house with bare essentials, they started to get at-
tuned to life in the city. His father started working and his daily wages helped sustain the family. Recalling those days, Gul says:
“We never begged on the streets as we believed that no one could snatch the rights that had been granted to us by Allah.”
Even after his father’s death, Gul, along with his brother and a
friend, went about collecting garbage from the streets of Rawal-
pindi, never forgetting to uphold their dignity at all times. “Thus life continued,” he says.
Today, Gul sweeps the streets of the city with as much vigour
as when he collected garbage as a young boy. His children, following in his footsteps, return home every night with the joy of
knowing that they do not have to beg for a living and that the little money they manage to collect helps keep their stove lit.
Their little hands may have become callused but they continue to sweep clean the streets of Rawalpindi.
But Gul remains haunted by the memory of his home in Swat,
and the hope of one day returning to that remembered paradise
burns within him. “Life in the cities is very expensive,” he says ruefully. “There is a sense of peace and tranquility in Swat, and nothing around here compares to it. Acquiring a piece of land there would make my life complete… My family and I can be happier there.”
People like Gul may be engulfed in poverty, and faced with
problems the rest of us cannot even imagine, but it is their steely will and a belief in better days which keeps them going. a
AUGUST 7-13 2011
35
FEATURE
officer
down
When it comes to compensating the families of fallen police officers, it’s the police welfare department that cops out BY TAHA S SIDDIQUI
For Samina, her husband’s death meant more than the loss of a life-long companion — it meant that Samina and her children had now lost their only source of income and support. Samina’s husband
Asghar was a constable in the Lahore police — a department he
served for 25 years — until a suicide bomber claimed his life on January 10th 2008. Given his years of service, his family thought
they would at least be provided with a modest degree of support from the authorities. They were wrong.
Samina’s eyes well up with unshed tears when she recalls her
husband’s death. “For over a year I could not believe that Asghar was gone,” she says. “He had left for work early in the morning
and around noon we got news that there had been a blast at GPO Chowk… and that he was dead.”
Seventeen policemen lost their lives in this suicide attack, the
first major terrorist attack in Lahore.
Now, more than three years later, Samina is still struggling to
live a normal life. She has to bear the burden of four children.
“When Asghar died, everything finished for me,” she says. “If it was not for my children, I may have lost my mind.”
Samina received Rs500,000 as compensation for Asghar’s
death, as per the entitlement policy for police martyrs, but she
says the amount just isn’t enough. “Even the free education
program the department announced for martyrs’ children is all talk,” she says. “I spent Rs200,000 on fees last year, but only
Rs45,000 were reimbursed. Asghar really wanted our children to be educated; now I don’t know how I will fulfill his dream.”
In late 2008 a new policy was announced that declared that
martyrs’ families would get Rs3 million. “My in-laws keep calling me and say that I am lying to them, they say that I took this money from the government. But if I did, would I be living like this?” she asks.
Still living in her parents’ modest two-room house, she hopes
that the police welfare department will provide her family with a home. “Shahbaz Sharif promised houses for all police martyrs,
but when I inquired about this at the police welfare department, they asked me to file an application — and then the official there literally told me to ‘forget about it’.”
Fast forward to 25th January 2011, and it seems that the situ-
ation has not changed much. That day Mohammad Naveed, a 31-year-old ASI in the Lahore police, was on duty at Urdu Bazar
Chowk with three of his other fellow officers when a suicide bomber blew himself up. Mohammad Naveed is still overwhelmed by medical bills
36 AUGUST 7-13 2011
“God help me, God help me!” was the message that many
heard on police wireless sets on that fateful January day.
“Calm down, officer!” someone replied sternly on the other
side.
This is the last thing Naveed remembers. “I was lucky,” he
says. “I had returned to my vehicle to hear a message on the wireless. Just as I was about to respond, there was a huge explosion.”
His fellow officers, standing outside the police van, were all
killed. Naveed was rushed to the nearby government hospital.
“When I saw him for the first time, I lost consciousness,” says
Bashir Ahmed, Naveed’s father. “He was badly injured. My only son lay in front of me, struggling for life.”
A few weeks passed, and Naveed’s leg had still not healed. De-
spite that, he was told by hospital staff that he had to leave after one month, and he was forced to avail private treatment.
With four surgeries, and a daily expenditure of Rs5,000 on in-
jections alone, his treatment has cost him over Rs700,000 so far.
He has been regularly sending bills to his department but they
Samina and her son want the police department to help support them
have not been of much help. He received the Rs300,000 he was entitled to, but beyond that he has had problems justifying his
medical expense to his superiors. Naveed says that the entitle-
ment was exhausted in a matter of days. “I had to pay back my loans and even now I am borrowing from my extended family,” he says.
Head of the Punjab Police Welfare and Finance Department
Additional IG Aftab Sultan says that, paradoxically, due to increased salaries for the Punjab Government, support for victims
like Naveed has lessened. “I try to accommodate each case that
comes to me but it is up to the district police officer to actually pursue them,” he says.
When asked about Naveed’s and Samina’s cases, he said he
would look into them. “But I cannot do much about older cases. That’s just how it is,” Sultan adds.
He agrees that there are problems in the system but says that
because he only has a nine-person team and limited resources,
Head of the Punjab Police Welfare and Finance Department Additional IG Aftab Sultan says that, paradoxically, due to increased salaries for the Punjab Government, support for victims like Naveed has lessened
he cannot do much. “Managing a huge police force is tough when funds are limited,” Sultan concludes.
Naveed and Samina are not the only people who need atten-
tion. Many other policemen’s families have similar stories to tell, even though the AIG’s department claims they have no cases pending.
Samina believes that the middle tier of the police force creates
a hurdle to those asking for adequate compensation. Sitting beside her, one of her sons becomes teary-eyed, but the tears are
of rage, not sorrow. Squeezing his mother’s hand, he says: “My father wanted to serve the country, but what did we get for it — nothing!” a
37 AUGUST 7-13 2011
FOOD
Iftar’s going to be a tikki-licious meal with this simple recipe
fantas-tikki BY POPPY AGHA
For me, Ramazan means much excitement as iftari is one of my favourite meals and I wait all year long for it. The joy of eating delicious samosas, tamarind chutney and my grandmother’s famous channas is unparalleled. My grandmother’s channas are usually saved for Eid, but I try to get her to make them earlier in the month as well. I also start experimenting with new flavours and concepts
to maintain that excitement of the first iftari throughout the
month. I try to make new types of dishes, both savoury and
sweet. Of course, it’s important to bring a healthy edge to the
menu in Ramazan, but for the first few days I love to indulge whether its walnut halwa, aloo kay samosay or the infamous jalaybi.
This year I have been completely enamoured by some of the
forgotten foods of our provinces. My first adventure has been to discover Sindhi cuisine. What struck me as amazing was the use
of daal and besan (chickpea flour). Having discovered aani ki tikkis (small tikkis made from besan), I thought why not try out a
variety of daals in the form of tikkis? These delightful bites are
an intrinsic part of the Sindhi kitchen, and with a little personal tweaking can become iftari favourites.
My new addition to the iftari menu this week will be a lovely
tikki made from maash ki daal. It’s utterly delicious and very
42
easy to make. AUGUST 7-13 2011
This year I have been completely enamoured by some of the forgotten foods of our provinces. My first adventure has been to discover Sindhi cuisine MAASH KI DAAL KI TIKKI Maash ki dal — 2 cups, cleaned and thoroughly washed Ginger — 2 tablespoons, finely grated Flour — 2 tablespoons Salt — 1 teaspoon
Red chilli flakes — 2 teaspoons White cumin — 1 teaspoon Method: Clean and wash the daal and boil it in a litre of water with 1
teaspoon red chilli flakes. Boil the daal till it is overcooked and completely soft.
Mash the daal with a potato masher or with a fork till you
have a granular paste. Next, mix in the grated ginger, flour, salt, red chilli flakes and cumin.
Now knead the mixture till it is soft but not sticky. Make small tikkis and flatten with the palm of your hand.
Fry in a non-stick pan and serve piping hot with tamarind chutney.
43 AUGUST 7-13 2011
FOOD
it’s not just about jalaybis Pakistanis may love their samosas and pakoras, but what does the rest of the Muslim world eat during Ramazan?
A Syrian if tari usually comprises salads such as Fattoush and Taboula along with fried meatballs called Kebbah and savoury pastries called Fatayer. This may seem quite healthy, but Syrians like their desserts just as well — they enjoy sweets soaked in syrups called Awameh, and Ketaayef — a cream-filled pastry. For sehri, families gather to have a meal containing vegetables, meat, olives, eggs, cheese, a mixture of herbs and spices called Zatar and of course, tea.
44 30
A traditional Algerian iftar dish is Shorba, a soup with meat or chicken and vermicelli. The soup is served with rectangular shaped crusty bread called Burak, which is stuffed with mashed potatos, minced meat, cheese and olives. Also on the Algerian table is Dolma, which is AUGUST 7-13 2011
In Yemen, the fast is broken with a variety of rice dishes, bread, and a lassi-like beverage called Laban. Traditional Yemeni recipes include Salta, which is a dish made from chicken or beef in a parsley sauce, as well as Aseeda — which is also a favourite in Sudan. For sehari, people eat beans and a sweet honey cake called Bint al Sahn.
potato, marrow or green pepper stuffed with minced meat. Iftar is not complete without Lham Lahlou, made from dried apricots, almonds, cooked apple, meat and sugar. The staple dish in the morning is Mesfouf, which is couscous steamed with green beans and peas.
Long before Ramazan is announced, the Sudanese prepare for it by storing up on cereals, dates, and spices. Their main dish, however, is Aseeda, which is made of pureed dates and flour cooked in ghee. Another well-loved iftar dish is Mulah Taklia, a mixture of minced meat and onions in a rich tomato sauce. Malah al Naemia is a soup eaten with
Roegag, a type of bread similar to cornflakes that is made of wheat flour mixed with milk. For dessert, the Sudanese enjoy sweets like Basbousa, made of semolina and syrup, and Mouhalabiyeh, similar to custard. Whereas Pakistanis may enjoy Rooh Afza as their traditional iftar refreshment, the Sudanese drink is Amar al Deen, an apricot-based syrup.
Items on the Iraqi menu during Ramazan include Harissa, a kind of porridge made from previously stewed and boned chicken and coarsely ground soaked wheat and decorated with a generous sprinkling of cinnamon, a meat soup called Tashreeb, Maklouba, a dish made of rice and eggplant, and of course grilled Kebab or fried Kibbeh, made of burghul,
In Bangladesh, a wide variety of food is prepared to break the fast. Like Pakistan, some of the common iftar items from Bangladeshi cuisine include Piyaju, Beguni, Muri, which is puffed crunchy rice grains, Haleem, dates, Samosas, Cholas and of course the Bengali version of jalaybis, namely Jilapi. Drinks such as rose and lemon sherbet are common on iftar tables across the country.
chopped meat and spices. To cater to their sweet tooth they prepare Kadaif, a very fine vermicelli-like pastry, Baklava, a layered pastry filled with nuts and Zelabia, their version of their version of ‘jalaybis.’ Sehri is usually a light meal — tea, bread, cheese, olive oil and Burek, thin flaky dough filled with feta cheese, minced meat and potatoes or other vegetables.
A typical Malay iftari comprises Ketupat, rice cakes wrapped in coconut leaves and served with beef cooked in spices and coconut milk and Satay, which is grilled meat on a skewer served with peanut sauce. Other festive delicacies include Lemang, sticky rice cooked in bamboo tubes, Serunding, dry coconut fried with chilli, and their traditional chicken curry. AUGUST 7-13 2011
45
ADVICE
mr know it all From relationship blues to money woes, Mr Know It All has the answers!
Q. Dear Mr Know It All
I have a colleague at work who isn’t exactly a sleazy-stalker, but he comes very close to being one.
He sometimes leans uncomfortably close over my shoulder to read what’s on my computer screen,
and I’ve noticed that he tries to jump into any conversation I’m a part of. Thing is, I can’t accuse him of harassment or anything because he never really crosses that line — but it freaks me out all
the same. How do I get him to stay away?
Stalked
A. One of the biggest tragedies of the modern education system is that they don’t teach you how
to deal with different types of people. I find it very amusing how oh-so-erudite educationists think it’s important for kids to know how to multiply matrices with uneven rows and columns, for in-
stance, and not how to deal with creepy stalkers and sleazy talkers when everybody knows real life is much more likely to throw those our way than a bunch of numbers enclosed in a giant bracket!
Luckily for you though, I’ve suffered enough sleaze-balls in my day to know for a fact that giv-
ing such morons a cold shoulder is maybe the worst way of dealing with them. The more you find
yourself peeved by their ungentlemanly ways and the more you try to snub them, the more they’ll do to make life a living hell.
Even though your guy hasn’t displayed any signs of full-blown schmuckery yet, he’s been bother-
ing you constantly with his malarkey and that’s reason enough for you to pull out the oldest and sharpest sword in your scabbard and shred the man to pieces at his own game: become a sleaziertalker! Lean uncomfortably close to him when he’s checking his email and read out bits that you
Hijack his conversations and bother him with petty office issues when he’s busy working. In short, stop caring what he and the others might think and go all out! Stop letting his slithery antics get to you… pray for the time when he’ll cross that line so you can report him to HR and see him taken care of by the bullies in ties! Q. Dear Mr Know It All,
48
I just joined a new workplace a week ago and I seem to be the victim of an inferiority complex. I
have started to think less of myself in every way, whether it is the way I dress, the way I look or my AUGUST 7-13 2011
ILLUSTRATION: JAMAL KHURSHID
can make out for the whole office to enjoy. Ask him embarrassing questions in front of the others.
creative ideas. I have started to feel like a misfit! It is hard for me
can hardly be a good thing now, can it?
ers for everything I do. How do I regain my lost confidence?
if you’ve just joined a hipper, cooler workplace where everybody
to assert myself as I am constantly striving for approval from othStruggling beginner
A. Woah, slow down there, cowboy! Now take a deep breath
and do us both a favour and stop sounding like such a goner — I’m getting all depressed by just reading your email.
Look, we’ve all grown up listening to motivational mumbo
jumbo like “you have to believe in yourself for them to believe in
you” and “the only person who can stop you from getting ahead of yourself is you”… well guess what, this is all true! The only person doubting your confidence and skill here is you, and that
Sure, it’s normal to feel a little out of place at times, especially
else seems to know the whole kit and caboodle right from what
impresses the boss and their “effortlessly cool” wardrobes to the
jokes that make all the cute co-workers laugh, but dude, you’ve only been here a week! You’ll get there too… if you don’t smother yourself with self-doubt first, that is! Q. Dear Mr Know It All,
I have a younger sister who seems to be going through a diffi-
cult phase. Previously she would confide in me but now she leads
the life of a hermit. She shuns society and refuses to hang out
with her friends, attend family get-togethers or use socialising tools such as Facebook or Twitter. She has also cut her beautiful,
long locks to a short bob. How do I end this self-destructive mode of hers?
Concerned sister
A. I wish I could say I remember the time when I was a broody
little teenager who hated the world and society for all its duplici-
tous ways but I can’t. Cool as it would’ve been, I never spent my
days in my room listening to the dark and depressing music of Metallica and Marilyn Manson and I never really got down to shunning my friends and cutting my hair short to prove a point…
I was always a boring little shiny happy kid! Of course, a lot has changed since then. I mean I don’t think I qualify as a hermit and
I certainly still don’t get the message Mr Manson’s been trying to get across for years, but I can well relate to the mounting aversion
to social networking sites and holding society in contempt for all the hypocrisy.
What I’m trying to say is, things and people change… and
so will your sister. The girl is clearly going through a difficult
self-awakening period and the last thing she needs right now is an I-know-what’s-best-for-you attitude from her elder sister, which will only serve to make things fester. Sure I understand
where you’re coming from, but sometimes you just have to let them learn on their own. Besides, I think you’ve answered your
own question when you call what your sister is going through a
“phase”. The Oxford English Dictionary calls it a stage in a person’s psychological development, especially a period of temporary difficulty during adolescence or a particular stage during
childhood. The key word here being temporary! The best you can do here is cut her some slack and be there for her when it finally comes to an end! a
Got a problem you just can’t solve? Mail us at magazine@tribune.com.pk and let
49
our very own whiz take a crack at it! AUGUST 7-13 2011
REVIEW
film `
alien chase BY AMMARA KHAN
Greg Mottola is one those few young directors who have managed to get recognition for their idiosyncratic direction — reason enough to watch out for all his movies. After Superbad and Adventureland, Mottola has come up with a sci-fi comedy named Paul. The trailer of the movie was hilarious and had me anticipating its release. After watching the movie, though, I could not help but feel that it could have been so much better. An ordinary script and flashes of good acting made it merely average. After all, a great cast and director cannot make up for a flimsy plot and repetitive dialogue — ingredients which could sometimes spell disaster. Paul is a road trip adventure about two British geeks, who are obsessed with sci-fi movies. Graeme Willy and Clive Gollings start their journey with their first pit stop being the annual gathering of Comic-Com. The trip picks up speed as Paul, a bald extraterrestrial intruder, hops on board — a materialisation of their greatest dream. Graeme Willy and Clive Gollings are played by none other than Simon Pegg and Nick Frost — their comical duo in Shaun of the Dead and Hot Fuzz earned them wide recognition. This whimsical comedy gives them another chance to showcase their talent but this time around their on screen chemistry doesn’t quite actualise into a superb performance. Still, their subtle bro-mance and jokes make this an interesting performance. The depiction of the alien (voiced by Seth Rogen) hews close to the stereotypical image; he is small and green with E T hands. However, Greg Mottola’s Paul is a pot-smoking wag in khaki shorts. This jocular version of an alien is perhaps the only redeeming factor in an otherwise ordinary movie. The little green man, having escaped from a military facility where he was imprisoned for nearly 60 years, recruits Graeme and Clive as his accomplices. Escaping the security chief, who wants to extract the universe’s secrets from the little alien’s head, is the task 52 at hand. The plot takes a twist when the three accidently kidnap AUGUST 7-13 2011
three’s a crowd When two geeky Brits and a runaway alien get together, you’re in for a bumpy adventure riddled with comic relief
Ruth Buggs, the daughter of a devoted Christian, who believes that the world is only 4,000 years old and is the creation of intelligent design. The exchange between Paul and the hyper-religious Ruth is hysterical — a clash of opposites. Kristen Wiig gives us an impressive performance as Ruth; her cameo role was refreshing and gave the movie much needed momentum after its slow start. The script largely comprises of a range of jokes, leaving almost no space for a decent plot and character development. Many scenes in the movie may seem familiar — run-of-the-mill sci-fi stuff. The lead performances help make the movie appealing and generate some laughs. But that can’t hide the fact that Paul is a dumb nerd comedy that has hardly anything nerdy about it.
film soft focus BY NOMAN ANSARI
Set in Pakistan a year after the return of democratic rule, the much hyped Slackistan is finally available for all to see! An independent film directed and produced by Hammad Khan, Slackistan introduces you to the daily lives of Islamabad’s hip, rich, westernised youth. The movie revolves around budding filmmaker Hasan (Shahbaz Shigri), decadent Sheryar (Ali Rehman Khan) and gallant Saad (Osman Khalid Butt). They are three out-of-work graduates who spend their days driving around in Sheryar’s father’s Mercedes. Also in the spotlight are Hasan’s pretty neighbour Aisha (Aisha Linnea Akhtar), with whom he shares a romantic history, and a mutual friend Zara (Shahana Khan Khalil). Hasan, the protagonist, is basically a whiner trying to uncover his true potential. Aisha struggles to tell Hasan about her plans to move overseas and to enter into a permanent relationship with a more career-oriented and responsible man. Other subplots revolve around Sheryar’s efforts to repay a loan to Mani (Khalid Saeed), a corrupt politician’s son, and Zara’s attempts to secure the attention of her wayward boyfriend. What I like about Slackistan is its unapologetic portrayal of Islamabad’s elite — there is cussing, drinking, partying and even suggested adultery. Most of the young characters are slaves to designer clothing and accessories, and there is a general apathy towards the looming threat of the Taliban. Slackistan comes as a relief after the more didactic Bol; it delivers its message without resorting to film clichés. The movie avoids obligatory fight scenes and passes up on the ‘boy chases girl to the airport’ ending which comes as a pleasant surprise. Some of my favourite bits featured Zara — her transformation, her doing away with the layers of make-up she uses and her denouncement of her man-chasing lifestyle, are all lessons told well. Regrettably, other promising scenes were mucked up by poor editing and woeful performances. One of them is worth mentioning: Hasan, lying on a park bench beside Aisha, remarks how expensive
loafers Pakistan’s self-indulgent youth are in the spotlight in Slackistan imported perfumes have become. Then, a few underprivileged people are shown shuffling nearby, an ineffective way to portray Hasan’s disconnect with society. Slackistan’s cinematography seems to show an incongruous love for Hasan. A moment that particularly stands out is when he visits a slum and, having just mingled with the children there, contemplates his life with his back turned towards the boundary wall — one knee bent… designer glasses resting on his nose… a cigarette poised in his lips … he digs deeper into his existence. At this point he looks very much like a Pakistani version of Zoolander. The overall acting in the movie leaves a lot to be desired; Ali Rehman Khan, having the most important role in the movie, fails to do justice to his character. The script, co-written by Hammad with his wife Shandana Ayub, is also quite dull. The character development is weak — the self-indulgent characters show no significant signs of growth. They float through the boredom of their lives with audiences left to follow suit. Overall, as noble as Hammad Khan’s efforts to make a characterdriven Pakistani film are, Slackistan quite unfortunately, misses the mark. a
53 AUGUST 7-13 2011