MAY 3-9 2015
MAY 3-9 2015
Feature
Cover Story
Hand in glove
Waziristan in retrospect How religion came to play an important part in the lives of the people in the region
Art students and theatres join forces to revive string puppetry in Pakistan
COVER PHOTO CREDIT: ZULFIQAR ALI
32 Feature
A new stylus in an old groove For classical singer Ali Sethi, his foray into music was an eventuality
24
4
36 Regulars
6 People & Parties: Out and about with beautiful people
38 Reviews: Documentary, movies and art
42 Framed: A woman takes to
the streets on a motorbike
Magazine Incharge: Dilaira Dubash, Senior Subeditors: Sanam Maher and Ali Haider Habib and Subeditor: Komal Anwar Creative Team: Jamal Khurshid, Essa Malik, Mohsin Alam, Talha Ahmed Khan, Hira Fareed, Maryam Rashid, Eesha Azam & Sanober Ahmed Publisher: Bilal A Lakhani. Editor: Kamal Siddiqi For feedback and submissions: magazine@tribune.com.pk Twitter: @ETribuneMag & Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ETribuneMag Printed: uniprint@unigraph.com
PEOPLE & PARTIES Shamsha Hashwani opens her first flagship store in Karachi
PHOTOS COURTESY CATALYST PR AND MARKETING
Frieha Altaf
Miral
Ayesha F Hashwani
Habi Hashwani, Saba Obaid and Masooma Adamjee with a friend
6 MAY 3-9 2015
Momal Sheikh
Shamsha Hashwani
Nadir Feroze, Shahrina and Maha Burney
PEOPLE & PARTIES
Lala and Minza
Zeba Hussain
Maira And Marriam Pagganwala
8 MAY 3-9 2015
Menahil and Nazli Majeed
PHOTOS COURTESY CATALYST PR AND MARKETING
Nazi Shaikh with her sister
PEOPLE & PARTIES Beenish, Afshan and Sana
Ayla and Hira
Zohra, Nimrah and Mariam
Fiza Ali
Xille Huma and Fahad
Mahwish and Areesha
10 MAY 3-9 2015
Faisal Saleh Hayat
Hajra, Naba, Minahil and Faseeha
Mian Ayaz Anwar
Sehyr Anis
PHOTOS COURTESY VERVE PR
Verve organises the ‘Seedout Polo Cup 2015’ event in Lahore
PEOPLE & PARTIES
Pervez Lala and Danish Lala host a lunch to celebrate the start of Telenor Fashion Pakistan Week at CafĂŠ Flo in Karachi
Mariam Mushtaq
Raana Khan
Maheen Karim
Izza Khalid
12 MAY 3-9 2015
Alizeh Pasha
Naushaba, Andleeb, Sana, Mohsin and Natasia
Aamna Aqeel
Palwasha Yousuf and Saif Rehman
PHOTOS COURTESY LOTUS PR AND MARKETING
Pervez Lala, Mohsin Sayeed, Danish Lala and Deepak Perwani
PEOPLE & PARTIES Haroon and Komal
Rungrez launches its first Spring/ Summer 2015 lawn collection in Lahore
PHOTOS COURTESY BILAL MUKHTAR EVENTS & PR
Hina and Hassan
Abeer and Hur Hassan
Amber Liaqat
14 MAY 3-9 2015
Zunaira and Maryam
Sadaf Zarar and Sadaf
PEOPLE & PARTIES
Anusheh Hasham
Marium Akram with a friend
Sanam Chaudhry and Shehla Chatoor
16 MAY 3-9 2015
Sadaf Jalil and Safinaz Muneer
Sana Safinaz celebrate the launch of their new lawn collection at Mews in Karachi
Kahif, Seveen and Anusheh with a friend
PHOTOS COURTESY CATWALK PR
Armeen Ismail
COVER STORY
WAZIRISTAN
retrospect in
Looking back at how the region distanced itself from its secular roots BY ZULFIQAR ALI | DESIGN BY HIRA FAREED
aziristan was not always a land of drones and destruction; where men ruled with a rod and women did parda; where religion reigned supreme and was enforced at the point of a gun. Sir Herbert Edwardes, once the administrator of Bannu and later the commissioner of Peshawar in 1853, wrote in his diary: “The Wazir are democratic and independent people. The mullahs have influence only so far as the observances of religion go, and are powerless in political matters.” Historically in Waziristan, whether in wars fought between tribes or external wars, all tribes abided by and defended the “Wazirwalla,” an unwritten code of law that governed the region. The elders who were members of the jirga would make decisions according to the Wazirwalla, locally known as “Waziri qanun”. The code gets its name from Wazir, the forefather of both the main tribes, the Wazir (Darvesh Khel) tribe and the Mehsud tribe.
An internally displaced woman from North Waziristan living temporarily at a school in Bannu. PHOTO: REUTERS
The new order
The Wazirwalla was the first ever rivaj or custom law among the Pakhtuns. It was governed by an independent jirga of elders and sanctioned by armed tribal militias (lashkars). But in the 19th Century, the British introduced the Frontier Crimes Regulation (FCR) after which the jirga’s law became dependent on the new set of laws that to date govern Waziristan. The FCR jirgas were considered the official decision-making authority and started functioning as a parallel system. However, they too followed the Wazirwalla. The British, through the FCR jirga, curtailed the political power of the tribes, but they did not question or interfere in the overall governing code. During the Cold War era, independent tribal jirgas took new form. Religious clerics became part of the jirga and the elders and clerics, known as mullahs, started making decisions according to the Wazirwalla as well as the Shariah. The mullahs were mostly from within the tribes and abolished or altered several sections of the Wazirwalla code. It was mostly cultural rituals that were targeted, which first led to the custom of wearing burqas or doing parda in public spaces. The strict parda reduced women’s role
in culture, politics and society, and this resultantly had economic implications. Previously, the newly-married woman would take the cattle up a mountain early every morning for three days and girls and boys would sing and dance together to celebrate the arrival of spring. “Women were not limited to their homes. We used to go outside our home without wearing a burqa. In fact, we did not even know what a burqa was. We were only familiar with ganr khat (a cultural dress worn by married women),” says Gul Meena, a resident of Waziristan, who has witnessed the changes in society from the time of the Afghan jihad. Since the 9/11 attacks on the Twin Towers, this mindset that hinges on religion has posed a multi-dimensional threat,w particularly with respect to Internally Displaced Persons (IDPs). South Waziristan’s Mehsud tribe was displaced after Operation Rah-e-Nejat in 2009, and North Waziristan’s Uthmanzai tribe was displaced after Operation Zarb-eAzb last year. The societal makeup and cultural trends of Waziristan were severely impacted by these displacements. Wana, a sub-division of South Waziristan, is one area that is still inhabited by a tribe, the Ahmedzai. Here, even today, the Wazirwalla is followed. In some areas, it is
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The Wazirwalla was the first ever rivaj or custom law among the Pakhtuns. It was governed by an independent jirga of elders and sanctioned by armed tribal militias (lashkars)
( Left) Men belonging to the Wazir and Dawar tribes of North Waziristan perform a ‘dance of death’ to register their protest against shelling in the region in 2013. PHOTO: FILE (Above) Internally displaced children from North Waziristan play at a school in Bannu. PHOTO: AFP
COVER STORY
(Above) An internally displaced girl looks through a scarf covering her face amid other women waiting to be registered at the camp. PHOTO: REUTERS (Right) A girl from Miranshah in North Waziristan who moved to Bannu after a military operation was launched in the region last year. PHOTO COURTESY: SHOAIB TARIQ
practiced in its original form, while religious clauses have been added to other areas.
A wave of change
Tribes from Waziristan were traditionally nomadic. They would live in tents and depend on cattle, shifting from one place to another depending on the weather conditions. However, with time people started settling in mud houses, but both men and women were still part of all socio-economic activities. The democratic and secular governing code of Wazirwalla kept a distance between the home and the mosque. Clerics would only be included to hold congregational and funeral prayers, read the nikkah and raise their hands for dua (prayer) at the end of the jirga. Before the Afghan jihad period, many jirga elders were musicians and singers, says 82-year-old Akbar Khan, a native of
Waziristan. If a jirga was held for war or peace, tribal elders would perform the attan (a traditional dance) at the end of the congregation. Women would freely travel to markets, climb mountains to collect firewood and take the cattle for walks. They voiced their opinion in jirgas, were involved in warfare, and would also participate in sports. Even today, in some areas of Waziristan, burqas are not worn and it’s only when women travel to settled parts of Pakistan, such as Tank or Bannu, that they cover themselves. Researcher Dr Fazlu Rehman, who studies the culture and life of the tribal region, says burqas were not worn in any part of the tribal belt. Women only wore large dupattas. Even Dr Rehman connects the appearance of burqas to changing circumstances after the Afghan jihad, when tribes intermingled with people in settled areas and inter-marriages took place.
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Women were not limited to their homes. We used to go outside our home without wearing a burqa. In fact, we did not even know what a burqa was A resident of Waziristan, Gul Meena
Secular affairs
Previously, people of Waziristan were secular and wedding rituals would be performed according to the Wazirwalla code, which, among other things, allowed for marriage of choice. As dictated by the zagh pa waka tradition, men would indulge in aerial firing outside the prospective bride’s home and then the jirga, together with the consent of the girl’s family, would pick the groom. “There was nothing shameful or out of the ordinary about marrying out of choice. It has been going on for centuries and it’s unfortunate that it no longer exists here today,” says Khan. With the introduction of parda in society, women were cut off from public life and compulsion came in marriage. Engagements started happening without the man or woman seeing each other. Earlier, folk songs narrating stories of history, beauty, love and bravery were sung at weddings. While the attan is still part of wedding ceremonies, a lot has changed. “Earlier, a Barragai attan would be performed at weddings and this involved both men and women dancing to a drum beat around a fire. Now, that rarely ever happens,” says Khan. “In our time, the Barragai used to be performed publicly,” he adds. Describing the numerous cultural rituals that have now disappeared, he says, “Earlier, the bridegroom would sit on the back of a female camel, while men and women on foot would go with him dancing and singing till the camel reached the bride’s home. Now people come in a car and there is no fun in that.”
The impact of development
Other changes came about with development in the country, despite the fact that little of that development was carried out in the tribal region. This happened particularly during Zulfikar Ali Bhutto’s reign when schools were opened, road infrastructure improved and electricity provided. It became easier for people to travel from one place to another and they were introduced to a different way of life. Similarly, technology also played a substantial role in cultural changes. One example of this is when the tape recorder first came to Waziristan. There were no telephones at the time and men and women would record songs, duas and salams on cassettes and dispatch them to relatives residing in Gulf countries. But when telephones came, this cultural trend disappeared. While there is no internet in the area, there is access to mobile phones in Wana. But men try to keep women away from technology and prevent them from watching videos and learning more about life outside the tribal belt. At the same time, there was pressure from mullahs and the Taliban to denounce technology. In Wana’s Rustam bazaar, there have been frequent attempts by Mullah Nazir’s Taliban group to reduce people’s access to technology. Computers, cameras and mobile phone stores have been set on fire for being against Shariah and culture. But there is only so much that they have been able to keep out. People still have access to satellite and interact with transporters and truck drivers in other parts of Pakistan and the Middle East for business. This keeps them linked with the outside world despite various restrictions.
Return to roots
Despite the changes over time, tribes in Waziristan are still inclined towards their culture and some old ways of life. While women are no longer part of dance performances at weddings, the attan does still exist — if only for men. In some places, there are also signs of people adopting the old style of marriage. With the IDPs returning to their homes, it may perhaps be a matter of time before things come full circle and Waziristan embraces its cultural roots.T
Zulfiqar Ali is a Peshawar-based reporter for The Express Tribune.
FEATURE
Hand In
e v o l G
Art students and theatres join forces to keep the tradition of string pu ppetry alive in Pakistan Puppetry or putli tamasha is an integral part of everyone’s childhood memories. But with the rate at which the traditional art form is declining in Pakistan, it may soon be wiped out forever. To keep puppetry alive in the country, however, actors Samina Ahmed, Shoaib Hashmi, Salman Shahid and artist Salima Hashmi pulled some strings in 1985 to set into motion a series of puppet shows at the Alhamra Arts Council in Lahore. Today, art students have taken up the mantle to allow audiences to continue indulging in some old-fashioned childhood pleasures. Puppets deserve a bigger role in mainstream theatre. “The purpose is to keep the folktales alive. The younger generation should know about their roots and literary tradition,” says Faisal Malik, artistic director for Thespianz Theatre. According to Malik, there is a false perception that puppet shows are only for children. Various shows like Heer Ranjha and Umar Marvi mainly cater to adults, he says. Puppetry encourages both children and adults to be creative and makes people more empathetic towards a variety of situations, he explains. “The sole aim of our team is to attract audiences to watch theatre and be amused by the 32 oldest form of puppetry,” he adds. MAY 3-9 2015
BY SADAF PERVEZ
DESIGN BY EESHA AZAM
Yamina Peerzada, a graduate of the Royal Central School of Speech and Drama in London with a Masters in acting, is following in the footsteps of her late uncle Faizan Peerzada and father Sadan Peerzada, co-founders of the Rafi Peer Theatre Workshop (RPTW), to promote the art and contemporise it by conducting hands-on puppetmaking workshops in schools across Pakistan. “We want to introduce the art of puppetry to children at a young age to make them experience the joy and pride puppeteers experience during their performances,” says Yamina, who is also part of the puppet show The Border, a DanishPakistani collaboration. “Children make their own puppets and give life to inanimate objects. The interesting thing is that even shy students shun the fear of being judged and happily participate,” she adds. When the RPTW was launched in 1974, there were only two puppet theatres functioning on a daily basis in Karachi. But today the initiative has produced over 40 live puppet productions and four 13-part television puppet series for children, including Sim Sim Hamara. It also houses a puppet museum in its cultural complex. The multistoreyed museum established in 2006 hosts puppets from 50 countries and facilitates the International Puppet Residency Program for youth and children. “Our aim is
to develop college-level independent puppet groups to popularise the art,” says Yamina. Although there is no dearth of talent in the art of puppetry, the profession continues to suffer in Pakistan. “During the production of Sim Sim Hamara, I saw a lot of potential in people, but many eventually move on to other things due to monetary reasons,” says Yamina. Since puppetry is associated purely with entertainment and has not been utilised effectively in advertisements, it is not considered a lucrative profession. Additionally, for the art to flourish it is important to appreciate and applaud puppeteers. Attracting a younger audience has become difficult though as parents are reluctant to let their children watch shows in public places. “We cannot invite foreign puppeteers and hold festivals with fanfare, hence we are restricted,” shares Tasneem Peerzada of Rafi Peer Theatre. So unless people wholeheartedly embrace puppetry it will be pushed off to the peripheries of art.
of We want to introduce the art e puppetry to children at a young ag to make them experience the joy e and pride puppeteers experienc during their performances Puppeteer Yamina Peerzada
Sadaf Parvez is a freelance writer and blogger. She tweets @sadafpervez
Sadan and late Faizan Peerzada, co-founders of the Rafi Peer Theatre Workshop, have made several efforts to keep string puppetry alive in Pakistan. PHOTO COURTESY: YAMINA PEERZADA 33 MAY 3-9 2015
A new stylus in an old groove Classical singer Ali Sethi talks about his musical journey and why, for him, fusion is not a fallacy BY FAIZA RAHMAN DESIGN BY SANOBAR AHMED
(Above) A vocal endeavour: A screengrab of Sethi performing in the video of Kithay Nain Na Jorin. (Below) Ali Sethi says his first musical memory is of listening to 36 Ustad Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan. PHOTO CREDIT: ARIF SOOMRO MAY 3-9 2015
Ali Sethi is a new-generation pillar of classical music. A disciple of Ustad Naseeruddin Saami, one of the strongest living maestros of Eastern classical in Pakistan, Sethi’s venture into music was not habitual or accidental, but willful and ideological. While chatting at a cafÊ overlooking the lagoon at the Beach Luxury Hotel in Karachi, Sethi talks about his foray into the sounds of South Asia.
Sania Saeed and Adnan Siddiqui star in Sethi’s first music video, released at this year’s Karachi Literature Festival.
Shot in the Wajid Ali Shah haveli in Lahore, Kithay Nain Na Jorin is evidence of Sethi’s love for everything old. Vocal practice started late for Sethi. Despite being sensitive to good sounds and having a penchant for melodies, he started his formal schooling in music at the age of 24. He says his earliest musical memory is of listening to Ustad Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan. Now, in his seventh year of training under Ustaad Saami, Sethi has covered evergreen numbers like Dil jalanay ki baat kartey ho and Mohabbat karnay walay kum na hongey. “I just knew I was to become a singer; so, in my sophomore year in college, I bought myself a harmonium. Then, I started to look for an ustad who could teach me,” says Sethi. It essentially started with YouTube, Sethi recalls. He jammed to a few Reshma songs in London with musicians Tsivi Sharett and Natalie Rosario, which were then uploaded on the video-sharing website and received a great response. There was no looking back after this; he started training exhaustively and releasing covers on SoundCloud and YouTube.
I just knew I was to become a singer; so, in my sophomore year in college, I bought myself a harmonium. Then, I started to look for an ustad who could teach me Singer Ali Sethi
This year’s Karachi Literature Festival witnessed the release of Sethi’s first music video. The song, Kithay Nain Na Jorin by Reshma, has immense sentimental value for him. “This was the song I had jammed to in London. This was the song I crooned since I was much, much younger.” The Punjabi folk song has been picturised on Sania Saeed and Adnan Siddiqui. The video, with a beautiful storyline, has been shot in the Wajid Ali Shah haveli in Lahore. It also stars Sethi’s sister, journalist Mira Sethi. Sethi is a person of the arts, through and through. Along with regular singing and jamming sessions with dormmates, he took to writing at a young age, and is an avid reader of fiction. He has been schooled in South Asian history at Harvard, and has also written an English novel, The Wish Maker. “At university, I studied the myth of Anarkali in detail,” he recalls. Poetry, music and stories seem to be his old companions. Sethi pursues them not because they are lucrative or because they are part of his ‘profession’, but because he deems them inseparable from himself. He agrees that classical music, old shayari and folks songs, do not carry the appeal they did in the past. “But everything is not done for utility. We do things we love because it gives us pleasure. Man is an emotional creature, and poetry, singing and writing are the stuff of emotions.” Sethi, however, does not have any of the pomp of the gharanas. He understands that members of these families scoff at the fusion of classical music with other genres because the purity of their music tradition is their bread and butter. “I sympathise with them and completely get where they’re coming from, but I, myself, am comfortable with fusion.” When asked if he’s happy about the way different genres of music are experimented with on Coke Studio, he nods and adds: “Absolutely, Coke Studio is a good platform.” It is through this candor and receptiveness that Sethi voices new notions without obstructing the old. T Faiza Rahman is a subeditor for the opinion and editorial section of The Express Tribune. MAY 3-9 2015
37
DOCUMENTARY
An ideological battlefield Among the Believers offers key insight into the ideological clashes that currently divide Pakistan BY SARAH MUNIR
Among the Believers — the latest documentary by film-makers Hemal Trivedi and Mohammed Ali Naqvi, screened at the prestigious Tribeca Film Festival in New York in mid-April — is not an easy watch. If you are a Pakistani, the film is a painful reminder of the critical ideological battles that currently divide the country. For members of a foreign audience, it is an insight into the plurality of a country that is too often and too conveniently buried under monolithic stereotypes of extremism, backwardness and violence. Inspired by Nobel laureate VS Naipul’s eponymous book, the film follows five characters against a backdrop of key events in Pakistan, starting from the Lal Masjid siege ordered by Pervez Musharraf in 2007 to the recent Peshawar attack that claimed over 150 lives, most of them school children. The majority of the film’s running time is understandably devoted to the controversial cleric and leader of Lal Masjid, Maulana Abdul Aziz, since the film-makers have not
only managed to get unprecedented access to the man himself but also the mosque and seminary he operates from. Taking a vocal stand against Aziz is Dr Pervez Hoodbhoy, an academic determined to provide a moderate alternative discourse that can counter Aziz’s vitriol-laced teachings. There are also heartbreaking stories of Zarina, a young girl hungry for education who has recently escaped from the madrassah at Lal Masjid, Talha, a young boy whose family enrolls him under Aziz’s tutelage due to financial hardships and Tariq, a village chief who uses his personal land to set up a local school. While the film deals with terrorism, an easily sellable concept in the foreign market, it doesn’t resort to the usual tactics of pandering to a certain audience and reducing the issue to one of bombs, bearded mullahs and the ‘poor’ Pakistanis who suffer as a result. Instead, it goes a step further and addresses the failure of the State in providing basic necessities such as food, economic
security and education to its population, creating a vacuum for people like Aziz to build their case on. The biggest success of the film, in my opinion, is giving a voice to average Pakistanis like Tariq, who are fighting extremist mindsets on a daily basis but never get the recognition they deserve. A scene where Tariq is pleading to one of the village parents to not compromise their children’s life by putting them in the care of seminaries where they may be brainwashed and the resistance he faces in return is particularly moving. It shows how the various protagonists, belonging to different income and social classes, are fighting the war against terrorism in their own way. The absence of a voice-over and allowing the characters to speak for themselves also lends an organic and natural flow to each character’s story, with the exception of Hoodbhoy, whose story felt abrupt, fragmented and incomplete. Overall, Among the Believers might not offer anything new or groundbreaking but definitely puts things in perspective. It drives home the fact that regardless of the number of troops we deploy on our borders, the real battle against terror has to be fought in our classrooms. And most importantly, it displays an honest, heartfelt effort to understand a country whose people have perhaps paid the biggest price for the war on terror but seldom get credit for it. Rating: Sarah Munir is a freelance multimedia journalist. She tweets @SarahMunir1
MAY 3-9 2015
A standard issue The Duff is a typical high school survival guide
BY SAMEEN AMER
Even though teen movies usually revolve around the same stereotypes and clichés, they remain popular with their target audience, partly because of their ability to give viewers a chance to root for the underdogs and watch mean kids receive their comeuppance. New teen comedy The Duff employs the formulas we are already familiar with, and does so amusingly, albeit unexceptionally. The story revolves around high school student Bianca (Mae Whitman), an intelligent teenager who is close friends with the popular Jess (Skyler Samuels) and Casey (Bianca A Santos), while being tormented by mean girl Madison (Bella Thorne). But when her neighbour, jock Wesley (Robbie Amell), offers unsolicited insight into her role in social hierarchy and informs her that she is a ‘Duff’ — the designated ugly, fat friend to her stylish besties — Bianca is left devastated. Before you point out that Whitman is neither fat nor ugly, the movie clarifies that the term isn’t a literal identifier and just refers to the person in a clique who simply “doesn’t look as good” as the others. Determined to overcome her wallflower status, Bianca seeks Wesley’s help to teach her how to attract the guy she is pining over (Nick Eversman), in exchange for helping him pass chemistry. Events thereafter unfold dutifully and predictably. Director Ari Sandel’s attempts
at making the film appear modern begin and end with references to social media and viral videos that are shoehorned into the proceedings, but nothing particularly innovative or subversive ever happens. Yet, the film is quite charming, thanks in no small part to Whitman and her co-star Amell, who try to make the most of the average story and script. The leads work really well together; not only does their chemistry make the film feel genuine, but also infuses the movie with much-needed nuance. Whitman in particular is a delight, and her performance will compel viewers to identify with Bianca and be invested in her story. Coated in amusing banter and peppered with silly antics, The Duff revisits the topic of high school pettiness and leaves you with the standard message of self-acceptance, but the movie is never as biting, engaging or funny as the more memorable teen films Mean Girls and Easy A. Still, amiable performances by its main cast help win over the audience and ensure that the proceedings are relatable, although the movie itself ultimately doesn’t succeed in rising above the predictability of its genre.
Rating:
Turn to more teen comedies 10 Things I Hate About You (1999) A new student (Joseph GordonLevitt) bribes an outcast (Heath Ledger) to date the elder sister (Julia Stiles) of the girl he has a crush on (Larisa Oleynik) because she cannot date until her older sister does.
Mean Girls (2004)
Easy A (2010)
A homeschooled girl (Lindsay Lohan) joins a public school and becomes entangled in a plot to infiltrate the popular clique on campus while falling for the queen bee’s (Rachel McAdams) exboyfriend (Jonathan Bennett).
Inspired by Nathaniel Hawthorne’s novel The Scarlet Letter, Easy A is about a high school student (Emma Stone) who perpetuates rumours about herself, ruining her reputation in exchange for gifts. But the situation soon spins out of control.
Sameen Amer is a Lahore-based freelance writer and critic. She tweets @Sameen
39 MAY 3-9 2015
ART Considering Britain’s colonial past in the South Asian subcontinent, it is not altogether surprising that a prominent British artist has amassed a major collection of Indian art. Currently on display in Toronto at the Aga Khan Museum, the Mughal painting collection of contemporary artist Sir Howard Hodgkin has been put together over a span of 50 years.
A royal display Sir Howard Hodgkin brings together a selection of Mughal paintings from his personal collection BY CAROL KHAN PHOTOS COURTESY: HOLMES PR
40 Autumn in Bombay, 2010–14, oil on wood. MAY 3-9 2015
Hodgkin, who is known for his abstract paintings laden with heavy impasto and painted frames, offers a unique glimpse into a collection which has been edited with an artist’s eye and taste. While his practice bears similarity to that of abstract expressionists, he is not, nor has been, linked with any particular art movement, choosing to remain independent. Even though his work appears to be ‘abstract’, he refrains from identifying his work with the term and, instead, says that it portrays ‘feelings’, in order to evoke an emotional response from the viewer. Born in London in 1932, Hodgkin was introduced to Indian art by one of his teachers when he was a student at Eton College. He was shown a Mughal-era painting of a chameleon from 1612. Later, he began collecting art during his regular visits to India and won the first Swarovski Whitechapel Art Icon award last year. The display of his labours is being shown at the Aga Khan Museum till June 21. The exhibition, titled ‘Visions of Mughal India: The Collection of Howard Hodgkin’, consists of 60 works from Hodgkin’s personal collection and also includes a small number of Indian paintings from the Aga Khan Museum’s permanent collection. It is being held in tandem with a show of paintings by Hodgkin himself, dating 1970 to 2014. A similar exhibition was held in 2012 at the Ashmolean Museum in Oxford, where a collection of about 115 paintings is housed and cared for. The paintings from Hodgkin’s Indian collection represent the major styles of Indian art and show how Persian and European art impacted Indian Mughal paintings. As per tradition, a majority of them are works on cloth and paper. He has collected the paintings according to their colour, line and texture and they are displayed according to themes, including Flora and
Fauna, Elephants in Combat, A Journey to the Palace, Portraits, Dancing Ladies and the Ragamala Series, which represents the musical modes of North India. Perhaps the most obvious connection linking Hodgkin’s own work with his collection is the bright use of colour. Vibrant colours awash Hodgkin’s canvases just as they are so often imbued in Mughal paintings, particularly evident in the Dancing Ladies and Elephants in Combat categories. One such painting, A Court Beauty (1805-1810), depicts a stylised female court dancer with a small toddler pulling at her hips. The painting hails from Rajasthan and was likely patronised by the court of Deogarh. There are several other striking artworks on display. One of them, from Rajasthan, is a portrait of Maharaja Bakhat Singh of Nagaur, circa 1735. This particular painting shows the inventive side of Mughal-era paintings with its decorated and patterned surfaces. The scene depicted is that of the Maharaja standing by the window, showing himself to the public. He is holding a flower to note his intelligence as well as to signify he is a man of high tastes. Another artwork, showing European influence, is the 19th Century portraiture study of Emperor Bahadur Shah. A likely work in progress, the watercolour on paper shows the emperor in a threequarter view rather than the typical profile which is common in Mughal paintings. The painting uses naturalism drawn from the European style, depicting wrinkles and other facial features, signalling the emperor is an old man at the helm of a dying empire. He was the last Mughal emperor before the British-owned East India Company took power. Hodgkin’s collection is not all portraits. There are several highly-detailed paintings which depict crowds, telling stories from long ago. One brush drawing of particular measure is of Maharaja Raj Singh with his elephants parading around him during a bird hunt. The artist plays with scale, emphasising the importance of the Maharaja by drawing him and his elephant larger than the princes and hunters who surround him. Overall, the collection summarises a history of Mughal-era paintings which span genres from the stylised to the naturalistic. Hodgkin’s eye truly captures the essence of Mughal paintings, offering insight into a collection once kept behind closed doors. T
Carol Khan is a Peshawar-based subeditor at The Express Tribune. She tweets @carolkhn
The Emperor Bahadur Shah, Delhi, India, 1855–58, opaque watercolour on paper.
Maharaja Raj Singh and His Elephants, Sawar, Rajasthan, India, 1710–15, 41 brush drawing with pigment on paper. MAY 3-9 2015
FRAMED
Keep right
A motorcyclist sends the right signals to female and male commuters TEXT AND PHOTO BY SHAFIQ MALIK
A woman riding a motorbike is a rare sight in Pakistan
A
middle-aged woman debunks stereotypes and exerts her liberty by taking on the streets of Lahore on a motorbike. Although without a helmet, the fearless woman sets a precedent for all women to exercise their right to drive. Pakistan dose not have a ban on females drivers; yet, it’s a rare sight to see a woman riding a bike. The reluctance stems from street harassment and social taboo associated with female drivers. For all those still struggling for the right to ride a bicycle, let alone a motorbike, it is time to gear up and push men in the backseat. T
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Shafiq Malik is a Lahore-based photographer for The Express Tribune. MAY 3-9 2015