Sufism on the big screen; The Day we lost Molana Naiemi

Book review: From shrine to soapbox —by Reem Wasay

Mazaar, Bazaar: Design and Visual Culture in Pakistan
Edited and designed by Saima Zaidi Oxford University Press; Pp 347


Seeing truly is believing when leafing through this mammoth collection of the images we are most associated with, those that have defined the visual landscape of Pakistan, a work still in progress. In a day and age of limited attention spans and visual overload, to come across an exhaustive portrayal of the optical dimension of Pakistan’s story-so far has proved to be illuminating indeed. Mazaar Bazaar, the first in-depth look at the design and visual culture of this country, is a feast for every budding creationalist’s hidden aesthetic acumen. Saima Zaidi, a lecturer on design and typography at the Indus Valley School of Art and Architecture, has painstakingly gathered an indispensable anthology, aimed at thrusting our heritage into the here and now.

With an impressive array of photojournalists and historical design authorities enlisted to sprinkle the book with their own take of Pakistan’s steady transition from creative animation to restricted innovations, the book begs to be seen as a work of inspirational means, not a random deliberation on assorted images and fly-away comments. There are plenty of welcome insights into the evolution of the visual kaleidoscope by many a fine artist, commentator, experts in advertising and leading pundits from the field of artistic symbolism. Not just a labour of love, this book is an almanac for the aficionado. One of the most starkly apparent insinuations that this book has to offer is the fact that art is always the first martyr of conservatism, and Pakistan’s tainted relationship with superstitious ideology is clearly seen in this pictorial assembly line.

The Mazaar portion of this coffee-table masterpiece begins as a lecture on the deep contrasts and intricately ingrained perceptions of how saintliness is quite next to Godliness, but not in the way we have come to appreciate it. Our love affair with anything and everything that betrays religious under and overtones, has been presented quite regally here, with references to iconic figures that have been plastered all over the revered walls of accessible public holy sites such as Data Darbar and Sehwan Sharif. The flagrant similarity between the godly depictions present at Hindu shrines and local mazaars is exhilarating as the common denominator for cultural intervention is brightly apparent. Children of the subcontinent that we are, the parallels in worship are an eye-opener: Jhulay Laal sitting lotus positioned on the belly of a fish is a dead ringer for many Hindu deities shown in similar states of nirvana. This pictorial brand of Sufism can be seen proudly displayed as truck art all over the inter-state highways and back alleys of the country. Culturally motivated imagery also presents itself as the subject of reverence skilfully crafted on the nations most well known mobile art galleries. M Imran Qureshi and Amean J’s photographic contributions to this section are visually stimulating as they take the reader on a journey through the colourful realm of our most under-represented artisans and their canvas.

Lollywood is given ample leverage as well — no mediation on visuals would ever be complete without it — as Hasan Zaidi contemplates the effect of buxom babes on the national psyche. Simply leafing through the more famed movie posters lovingly caressed by our billboard boys, is a treat for those with a knack for satisfying the guilty pleasure.

Transitioning from saintly to filmy to gritty, the book arrives at propaganda’s role in religion, with ijtimaa posters being given ample room to harden the viewer’s aesthetic indulgence. Coupling calligraphy with sermons and presenting them in a barely designed format provides another look at how what we view becomes a permanent designation for a national preoccupation. Urdu newspaper layouts have also been given this untamed treatment; their deconstructed layouts and turbulent graphics are very correctly pointed out in the book as being an omen for the chaos that is our society. Saima’s overlapping of the bad, the good and the ugly is beautifully processed throughout this collection.

Arif Mahmood’s photo-essay, titled ‘Calligraffitti’, on typography and wall chalkings, is an urbanite observer’s dream come true. In a closeted society such as ours, the writing on the wall really is the only true launch pad for social protests, decorative attempts at civic initiation and public information. The public space has never been captured more imaginatively.

Advertising is dealt a vintage hand in the ‘Be Pakistani, buy Pakistani’ segment where some of the most beloved local brands are given the run-through with interwoven personal stories of how specific products have shaped cultural perceptions. From the never changing dewy-eyed lady who serves as the poster child for Tibet talcum powder to Pakistan’s own concoction of the holistic sugar juice, Rooh Afza, no room for national advertising icons has been spared. My pet in this shindig was definitely Mariam Ali Baig’s rumination on the country’s soft drink, Pakola, titled ‘Through green-tinted bottles’. A thorough jog through the history of this beverage and its branding philosophy, the writer muses on days gone by when Karachi was a very different place and the drink represented a calmer, more patriotic time. The transition of PIA from an international airline with highly exposed pursuits and brand identity, to a low brow, more restricted representation is a sign of the ever-changing times witnessed in Pakistan.

Rubina Saigol’s narration on the signs and symbols used for the postage stamp and Saima Zaidi’s own account of how political parties have been shaped through their respective symbols, provide an in-depth look at the background of some slogans and characters that we are most familiar with. Criss-crossed with amusing anecdotes, this is a must read portion of the book.

If I even attempt to discuss all the ocular dimensions Ms Zaidi has traversed for this book, I will fail miserably as this compilation needs to be picked up, touched to understand the weight under which this feat of art labours, every page tenderly leafed through and every corresponding story quietly absorbed, to suitably acknowledge the grandeur that has been illustrated in this hard-cover Bible for the enthusiast. This book is actually an obligation for every collector of the arts.

The reviewer is an Assistant Editor at Daily Times and can be contacted at reemk80@gmail.com

Sufism on the big screen

‘Kashf: The Lifting of the Veil’ is a Pakistani feature film that explores Sufism and its impact on the country’s cultural heritage. As headlines about Taliban atrocities abound, the film highlights a different, ‘positive’ narrative about Pakistan as it follows a young man’s spiritual journey towards mystical Islam. ‘Kashf’ is currently screening at art house theatres and prestigious universities in the United States, where audiences are struck by the protagonist’s transformative engagement with religion, the lush cinematography of Lahore, and the alternate window on Pakistan that the film offers.    Here, Ayesha Khan, the director of ‘Kashf’, talks to Dawn.com about Sufism, Pakistan and the politics of filmmaking.

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