The Express Tribune hi five - January 6

Ms JANUARY 06, 2013 ISSUE NO. 29

Take a ride with the ‘Raftaar ki

Malka’

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We’re bringing disco back

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inside what she said — Cycling to change

domestic goddess — A hearty Lebanese dish

page Section In Charge: Batool Zehra Send your feedback to women@tribune.com.pk

C’mon ladies ... One Pound Fish

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the buzz

THE EXPRESS TRIBUNE, JANUARY 06, 2013

ou The woman who w

by Laraib Kamal In a society where most women make themselves comfortable on the backseat of motorcycles, crossing their legs decorously on one side and clutching on to the husband or brother driving the vehicle for support, Shahbana Qureshi is something of a wonder.

The ‘Queen of Speed’ (Raftaar ki Malka) spent 15 years of her life in the ‘Thrill Arena’, riding her black bike along the walls of the ‘Well of Death’ (Maut ka Kuaan), a gigantic barrel made from wooden boards. As she raced her bike in dizzying, gravity-defying circles, round the Well of Death, the 20-year-old set hearts racing and pulses pounding, the roar of her motorcycle amplified by the roar of the astounded crowd. After all, how often had they seen a woman ride a motorbike, much less a female daredevil sport with this lethal act?

“People from all over Pakistan would come to see my performance,” says Shahbana, her grey eyes clouding with memories of times past. “I had die-hard fans who would come from distant places to see me.”

Born in Karachi in the 1950s, Shahbana was 17 when she started off in a dancing troupe in Aslam’s circus.

With her physique and talent, she could have made a great dancer, but what really enthralled her was biking.

She found a mentor in Maqsood Malik Golawala, whose act consisted of riding a motorbike in a round cage.

Despite a couple of knocks, Shahbana mastered the skill quickly and then moved on to her own act, the treacherous and thrilling ‘Maut ka Kuaan’ which brought her unprecedented fame.

At the height of her career in the 70s, hundreds of spectators would flock to see her riding her motorcycle blindfolded, not holding the handlebars. “I had an amazing black bike which had one big handlebar. It was very noisy,” she recalls.

Whizzing past the audience, she would pluck from their hands the handkerchiefs they held out for her, then speed to the Well of Death, where she spiraled upwards along its inner circumference, finely balanced.

Her long locks of hair would be braided up and twisted on either side of her head so that she could play the deadly sport without losing focus. Her loose shirt she would be tucked in her pants. She made a pretty spectacle, flying by on her motorbike, leaving the men in the audience stunned and gaping.

“I was so fit that even the dancing girls at the circus admired my beauty and figure and would ask me to join their act,” says Shahbana.

Her beauty was admired by more than just the dancing girls. She remembers one incident when, during her show, two fans got into a serious fight over her, drawing blades and injuring each other lethally. But it wasn’t just the men

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THE EXPRESS TRIBUNE, JANUARY 06, 2013

uldn’t take a backseat

who were left dazed by Shahbana — women too would crowd the circus every Wednesday for the ‘Females only’ show to witness her talent.

Shahbana travelled throughout Pakistan with the circus — a dusty, colourful, shifting world, sometimes grimy, at others squalid, but always pulsing with energy. Though regarded as a free-wheeling place, Shahbana says that the circus where she performed had a mosque and she would help educate others about religion, even convincing a few people to adopt Islam. Her talent led her to work with some famous circuses including the Lucky Irani Circus and she even performed with television artists. “My fans gave me many souvenirs and I even got offers to join the media industry,” she recalls. “Those were the golden days of my life. But I never thought of the future — so much admiration at such a young age was all a teenage girl could dream of.”

The ability to take it one day at a time is what made Shabana so fearless in the arena, but it was this same capacity that has led to her living a simple, quiet life away from any hustle and bustle now.

Shahbana married Abdul Aziz, a businessman who fell in love with her after seeing her at the circus. A few years later, she left circus life behind her, settling down and taking care of her children.

Now a housewife, it is easy to see her nostalgia for her former days, but she declares that she seldom regrets the decisions she made: “I am satisfied because I’ve had my heyday in which I dictated my terms and now I am content to live life the way it wants me to.”

Now she spends most of her time baby-sitting her grandchildren, amusing herself with their mischievous antics. Still, traces of her past are evident in her personality: her husband and three sons all say that Shahbana is as vivacious and fearless as ever. Of course, she doesn’t agree: “I used to be the most stubborn among all my siblings back in the day. But it’s the other way around now. My wonderful days are behind me — now I am no longer the ‘Malika’,” she says. “They would draw huge posters of every show and star. At the time I was too naive to maintain contacts or save souvenirs, and after my marriage it all faded into the past.”

She does have one gripe though: she is disgruntled at not being able to ride a bike anymore — not because she is too old, but because the motorbike has been stereotyped as a man’s vehicle in her city.

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en vogue

& C hannel your retro ‘70s Disco queen with these sparkly, sequined outfits.

Designer : Basit Photography : Wajid Khan Model : Sherry Makeup : Wajid Khan @ Wajid Khan Salon Coordination : Thomas Fernandes Styling : T-Factor Agency

THE EXPRESS TRIBUNE, JANUARY 06, 2013

THE EXPRESS TRIBUNE, JANUARY 06, 2013

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what hat sh she he said

THE EXPRESS ESS TRIBUNE, TRI JANUARY 06, 2013

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to change by Saba Khalid

Ready for a bike ride?

During the three months that I spent in Berlin this year, I learnt to envy the typical German woman.

She lives in the same universe as me, she walks the same Earth as me, sits across from me at work, yet the rules that she lives by in her country, the opportunities that are open to her and the independence that she experiences everyday — these are all things I could never imagine for myself in my own country, not in this lifetime.

However, this envy goes to another level when I see a German woman whizzing by in her secondhand bicycle while I trudge along with my heavy bag. The heavy bag I carry has not so many physical contents as emotional ones. Because I packed with me from Pakistan all the arguments I’ve had over the years as to why a woman should not dare to get on a bike. And despite all my best efforts, I still haven’t learnt how to ride one.

The first rationale given to make Pakistani women stay away from biking is that if they went out in the streets of Karachi, Lahore or Islamabad on a bicycle, it would be inviting harassment. But aren’t women already facing harassment when they ride public buses with men, take taxis, drive alone or even sit in the back of a motorcycle awkwardly holding a tiny infant? How would the harassment they face riding a bicycle be any different?

Then there are the reasonings of the moral police. Actually, there’s not much of an argument they offer after they declare cycling ‘haraam’. For some even a fully-covered woman travelling on a bicycle is supposedly promoting vulgarity and enticing men. One wonders if men are just innately enticed by anything that moves. But no, cycling is declared uncouth, unladylike and ‘westernised’. Of course, it’s more ‘ladylike’ to depend on a man for all your activities throughout your lifetime.

And then there are the circumstances and the realities on ground that are hard to argue with.

Pakistan does not have the infrastructure to support this activity: no tracks and paths for bicycles, or the kind of roads that permit cycling. But my sisters in most of the developing world face pretty much the same problems, yet they are on their cycles everyday.

But all the reasons and baggage aside — if we start doing this small painless activity, if we had the liberty to go as and when we please, Pakistani men could no longer control our lives. If we could go to school or work on our own, we’d be equal to them in standing. We’d be healthier, happier and more willing and motivated to break the chains that bind us. We could be contributing to environmental change, earning our living more independently and spending it as we please. In a country with high income disparity, biking would erase the differences between the rich and the poor.

And maybe that’s a scary thought for some.

Maybe these were the reasons why I was never taught how to ride a bike in Pakistan. And so as an adult when I saw the biking culture of Europe, I felt idiocy, estrangement and loneliness — all at the same time. It was hard for me to imagine cities where 50% of all trips to school and work were made on cycles. In Copehagen, there was a biking highway, a biking embassy, biking blogs, and even Presidents who cycle every day. And for immigrant women who have never had the opportunity to learn how to bike, there are special institutes where they are taught to face the streets.

Compare that to Pakistan, where we sit around forever and wait for someone to take us around.

I’m tired of hating cultures and all the liberties they offer. It’s hard to live a life of envy. It’s hard to walk with all this baggage. Quite frankly, I’d rather cycle with it!

So I’m sending out this message in a virtual bottle hoping that Pakistani women interested in learning how to bike will give me a shout out. I’m hoping that Pakistani organisations interested in this concept will help us get enough bikes to get us started with this activity. I’m hoping that people will volunteer to teach struggling biking newbies like myself to learn how to cycle. And we, in turn, can multiply this effect and teach more women.

For now, I’ll go back to dreaming what it would feel like to have Seaview’s sandy wind in my hair as I whiz by the colourful camels and horses and brake just in time for some delicious gol guppas. And when I do brake, I don’t end up with eight stitches or with gol guppas in my hair and the gol guppay wala in my arms.

Let’s all go out together for a bike ride.

domestic goddess 7 7 recipe

THE EXPRESS TRIBUNE, JANUARY 06, 2013

Kafta Batata Madiha Hamid is a digital media professional. She runs a food blog for Pakistani and regional cuisines called cheflingtales.com. Follow her on Twitter @cheflingtales

‘Kafta’ is the Lebanese word for meat patties, ‘Batata’ means potato and Kafta Batata is my favourite Lebanese dish! I first tasted it at a restaurant called Beirut in Bangkok. As meaty and satisfying as it can get, this is true comfort food that you will crave again and again.

method • In a grinder, process the minced beef.

• Add chopped onion and grind further, adding 1 tbsp water if needed.

• Now add parsley and the rest of the spices and grind further.

• Make patty-sized Kafta from this meat.

• Fry them till half-cooked and set aside.

• You can also fry a sample Kafta and test the spice level. You can add more Za’atar powder, salt or pepper.

• Take potatoes and fry them with a pinch of salt.

• When they’re half-cooked, take them out and dab the excess oil.

• Take a 2-inch deep baking tray and place the sliced tomatoes, onion rings, half-cooked Kafta and layer the potatoes.

• Preheat the oven to 200oC. For the gravy: • Take about 3 glasses of water and add 3-tablespoons of tomato paste. Let it boil and simmer till mixed well.

• The quantity can increase or decrease depending on the width of your baking tray.

• Pour this gravy over the layer of Kafta and Batata in the baking tray till completely covered.

• Cover the baking tray with an aluminium foil and bake at 200oC for 20 minutes or till the gravy thickens, sliced tomatoes and onions are soft and the potatoes cooked through. This helps in combining all the flavours in the gravy.

• Serve in a deep bowl.

For the rice • Break vermicelli into 1-inch pieces. Fry in butter till brown.

• Boil some rice.

• Mix rice with vermicelli.

ingredients For the patty

Minced meat 1/2 kg Onions 2 Small Za’atar powder 2 tbsp Black pepper 1 tbsp Salt 1 tbsp Bunch of parsley chopped 1 For the gravy

Potatoes 3 Tomatoes 2 Tomato paste 3 tbsp Water 3 glass Utensils: Baking tray

hottie of the week 8

THE EXPRESS TRIBUNE, JANUARY 06, 2013

Luck

100% Who is he?

He can’t sing, he can’t dance but boy can he sell that one pound fish!

Ladies and gentlemen, we present to you Pakistan’s YouTube sensation Muhammad Nazir. This father of four and market stall trader based in Queens Market in Upton Park, London rose to Gangnam-style level fame last year when his boss asked him to come up with creative ways to sell fish. Nazir decided to sing about his product because he hated shouting, and his singing, bad as it is, changed his life.

He went from being a down-on-his-luck fish-seller in London living on a student visa to being the Pakistani Psy with a record deal with Warner Music. After people taped him and put a video up on YouTube, it received so many hits that he released a professional video, contested on The X Factor. He convinced so many people to “have a, have a look” at the video that it became the second most Googled video of the year.

Now his song has been covered by mainstream UK artists, he’s stormed the top 40 Christmas pop chart and he’s planning on touring France.

Humour

80%

Voice

50% Why we’re crushing on him Some boys have the kind of looks we want to stare at forever, some guys have bodies that leave us girls breathless, some men have insane talent that leave us astounded, but its only one guy in a million who has the kind of luck that Nazir does.

But luck aside, more than anything else is, he has the ability to laugh at himself. He reminds us of the nerdy, awkward guy in school who everyone tortured and bullied, mocked and teased, but the same guy somehow managed to be more successful than anyone else later on in life.

And for that, my friends, can I get a “c’mon, ladies, one pound fish, very, very good and very, very cheap?”

Total Package

76%

What you didn’t know about him Nazir used to sing religious songs when he was growing up. Who knew he would go from that to singing about his fish?

Status Born

Married Pakistan

Birthday

1981

Photos: Shafiq Malik

Muhammad Shahid Nazir