The Khayyal Festival brought together a diverse array of accomplished, pioneering, critical voices from Pakistani society. Arshed Bhatti, having attended the festival, feels that this augurs well for us
Lahore, historically famous for its gardens, food, free-for-all warmth and basant, was overtaken by a frenzy of construction - “overheads” and underpasses - for the last several years. With basant having been declared ‘un-Islamic’ and illegal activity, the city was on the brink of losing its famed inclusive charms. Now, looking at the well-attended and well-remembered festivals Lahore has witnessed in 2015, it seems a cultural ‘climate change’ might be occurring.
This year I travelled from Islamabad to attend the Literature Festival in February, and twice in the last month to attend the Faiz Festival and Khayyal Festival. And then there were a few that I missed.
The Khayyal Festival truly lived up to its theme, "Pushing the boundaries"
At one level, all these festivals have an obvious similarity, as all were held at the same venue, the Alhamra Halls. Furthermore, all followed a similar pattern where guest speakers interacted with one another and with the audiences. However, in their organisation, internal coordination, size, scale and content, they differed quite a bit.
One other, less visible, similarity is the people behind these festivals: scions of Lahore’s famous families, and amongst them, many young women. It seems young, creative and thinking women of Lahore have decided to counter the old boys’ literal bulldozing of Lahore under the flimsy pretext of development and beautification.
Khayyal Festival, the latest of the thoughtful offerings, lived up to its theme, “Pushing the boundaries”. With over 40 engaging and insightful conversations, three music and dance performances, one dramatic reading of letters from prisoners on death row and eight documentary film screenings, Khayyal festival (#khayyalfest) enthralled the audiences in Lahore over the weekend of 28-29 November 2015.
Nandita Das at the festival
Besides experimenting with new range of subjects, and different speakers from those at the Literature Festival, Khayyal also offered a wider diversity of regions that constitute Pakistan from its North to South, from culture to politics, from mountaineering to subcutaneous social transitions, and from humour to deep analysis. One enjoyed a lot, but one also missed a lot.
Since many of us in Pakistan do not get much choice, and when once in a while we do – like at this festival - we do not know whether to rejoice or lament. Sometimes the parallel sessions have two very equally enticing offerings and the best – or perhaps the worst – one can do is to attend half of both. Later someone tells you about some of the great things discussed in the half you missed. So, in my case, one could only attend fourteen!
In the inaugural session, it was pleasant to see that instead of one key note speaker, Khayyal offered a tapestry of four young speakers who represented larger Pakistan’s new voices.
Dr Ayesha Siddiqa at the Khayyal Festival
After the inaugural session, it was challenging to pick one session from among: Nandita Das’s conversation with Sarmad Khoosat, Lahore Badlo ya Lahore Bachao (Protecting Lahore for all), a session on my dear friend Musadiq Sanwal or Punjabi Sufi Poetry. So I went in to Sanwal’s memorial, paid my respects and moved on to the Punjabi Sufi poetry session.
Mushtaq Sufi was at his best in this session, and the moderator Dr. Farrukh Khan let the speakers be. The highlight of the session was how we club very different personalities under the rubric of ‘Sufi’ without knowing much about their message and approach, which in many cases were quite varied.
Putting Hazrat Baba Farid Shakar Gunj and Hazrat Bahauddin Zakria in the same bracket would not be fair as they represented two very different approaches. If the qualifications for being a Sufi are tarak (avoiding possession and property), ilm (knowledge), fikr (thought & insight), amal (practice - walking the talk) and if their message had mazahamat o malamat (resistance & defiance) and their dargah was open to all (or not), Hazrat Bahauddin perhaps did not pass all the tests like Baba Farid or many other Sufis did. The former’s dargah was only open to the sons of the rich and powerful and he had vast possessions and property.
Sara Kazmi, the other panelist, pointed out that Punjabi Sufi poetry was full of a woman’s voice but we do not know many female Sufis.
The festival drew sizeable audiences
The essence of the session was that many of these great Sufis of Punjab did not call themselves “sufi”, and their titles followed their particular lives. It seems in today’s Pakistan, the traits of sufis can be present in common folks also, and our leadership can learn a lot from the Sufi fikr in finding solutions to many problems facing our polity and broader society. While sitting in the session, I was thinking of Sanwal (whose memorial was going on in a parallel session): most of his music was about Punjabi Sufi poetry.
The “World order and conflict” session moderated by Ejaz Haider featured Hina Rabbani Khar, Andrew Small and Vladimir Boyoko as speakers. The take-away from the session was that the US was losing its primacy as a player in international politics and the Syrian theatre would have significant ramifications for new permutations in global politics.
Dr Ali Cheema was able to garner highly insightful conversations from Zeba Sattar and Harris Gazdar of Population Council (Islamabad) and Collective for Social Research (Karachi) respectively, in the session “Pakistan: fossilised or quietly transforming?”. It appeared that while the government, its rules and the institutional framework fell closer to “fossilisation”; the society, its needs, demands for new services and social transactions had moved away from the domain of pure public policy. The speakers thought that policy-makers needed deeper thinking and more informed perspectives to be able to deal with the social issues of the real Pakistan; and those were not likely to be resolved with more motorways and metros. To begin with, a census has become inevitable in that regard. The last one we had was in 1998. So all we have is speculative inferences premising on projected data.
Shekhar Gupta’s absence, what with him being the star attraction in the session “Not in God’s name – Religion and State”, took some sheen off the session, as an Indian perspective could not be juxtaposed to that of Pakistan. In Pakistan, we all know that the state used religion for its specific designs but its abuse not only became a prevalent phenomenon, the damage is pervasive and seems beyond the grip of the state now. It seems Indian society is more capable of dealing with rising religious fanaticism, whereas in Pakistan, the state itself is in many ways a hurdle in this process.
I partly attended the next two parallel sessions: “The dying art of traditional music and its revival: a contemporary approach” featuring legendry Tahira Syed and music producer Zohaib Kazi, which was moderated by Rakae Jamil (a musician himself). The other session was “You write a woman, you write a rock”, featuring Nandita Das, Mina Keshavarz and Bidisha, moderated by Mina Malik Hussain. The latter session showcased the vitality and creativity of these women. Similarly, the second day’s “Gender and Media” session, moderated by Marvi Sirmed, noted that the days of “one lady reporter per newspaper” were over. Despite many challenges and discriminations, women have made their mark on Pakistani media and that trend is not going to reverse easily.
Tahira Syed, in the other session, felt she did not relate to the traditional music being produced nowadays, because artists were more involved and more challenged by the creative process before the rise of contemporary technology. The ‘song in one go’ would test the expertise and creative competence of artists, and technology has made that process so convenient that now “anyone can do a classical track in a day”. Zohaib, on the other hand, felt the new technology was here to stay, and consequently, the only option was to go with the flow.
In the session “Revival of Pakistani Cinema”, it was a delight to hear from the people who actually accomplished it. Pakistani cinema has revived partly owing to the new cinema houses, partly due to the showcasing of Hollywood and Bollywood hit flicks, and partly – and very importantly – due to the passion and perseverance of the new filmmakers. The speakers sounded optimistic and enthusiastic, but cautioned that our anachronistic censorship policy must be relaxed to allow the new cinema to breathe.
In “Up close and personal – the varied eras of writing”, the take-away of the session was that in a drive to make Urdu our ‘official language’, the political space and creative potential of national languages must not be curtailed or ignored. It cannot be emphasised enough that literature and creativity prosper when they are allowed to grow in their organic and natural environment.
Another extremely insightful and deeply analytical session of the Khayyal Festival was candid conversation in the “Pak-China Relations – partnership or patronage?” session, where Andrew Small, Asad Syed and Ayesha Siddiqa shared their observations and opinions. Among these was the observation that ‘Pakistan-China trade relations’ were a euphemism for ‘Pakistan-China security ties’, since all trade-related matters were processed by the GHQ and not the Board of Investment or the Tariff Commission. That this, China was serious in seeing through the CPEC (China-Pakistan Economic Corridor) and perhaps this would not deliver as many benefits as we often assume.
“Literature of dissent” offered continuity in all the three festivals. In the session “Chalking out a new narrative in Pakistan”, Taimur Rehman moderated a conversation with Marvi Memon and Bushra Gohar, and wrestled with the audience. This was something very interesting, as it showed how politicised and impatient we have become as a whole.
In “Limbo”, the legendary Erfan Khoosat, along with Nadia Afghan and Sarmad Khoosat, did a dramatic reading of letters written by prisoners on death row. This may well one of the first efforts aimed at making Pakistan abandon the death penalty. Due to our Stone Age regulations, corrupt and incompetent jails and judicial system, weak prosecution, it often happens that innocent people without money and connections walk to the gallows, while known criminals drive off from the grip of the Law in land cruisers.
It was a great festival by all accounts. However, the challenge for the organisers of Khayyal, as well as other festivals, is how to provide something new and distinct in 2016.
The beauty of the bold ideas emerging from such festivals is that considering Pakistan’s pervasive, self-perpetuating, censored mainstream narrative, they never cross the limits. These events simply expand the limits. That, in my view is a fairly secure path towards a newer, more open society.
Arshed Bhatti is a development professional, policy analyst and song-writer
Abdul Majeed Abid witnessed some of the moving sessions at the Khayyal Festival. He discusses the successes and limitations of such events
Musadiq Sanwal was an extraordinary man. He was a man of many talents, embodying his own ideal of a ‘Renaissance man’. He was an excellent poet, editor and a pioneer in the field of multimedia journalism. He was also a brilliant musician. He passed away in January 2014, as a cancer survivor who had stared in the eyes of death and defeated the disease. In a wonderful session arranged by Khayyal Festival in Lahore, friends and family of Musadiq Sanwal gathered to talk about the man. It was a departure from traditional ‘Litfest’ sessions and offered a chance for sharing memories of Musadiq with those near and dear to him. Moderated by Kashif Baloch, the session started with a recollection of memories by Sabir Nazar, one of Pakistan’s foremost political cartoonists. Sabir Nazar fondly remembered the time he spent alongside Musadiq in NCA during the 1980s. Mr Nazar spoke of Musadiq’s habit of encouraging his friends to explore more than one field and his obsession with the quintessential ‘Renaissance man’ Leonardo da Vinci, fitted in well with this habit.
The audience was then treated to some of Musadiq’s poetry, recorded in his own voice. Infused with literary and historical references, it reminded one of Noon Meem Rashid’s poems (a point raised by Asif Farrukhi later on in the session). Dr Shehla, Musadiq’s partner in life for the last two decades, talked about his habit of writing poetry late at night on any available piece of paper including (but not limited to) utility bills, old newspapers, cigarette packs and similar items. The ‘poetry’ was often discarded in the morning during clean-up of the house, causing distress to Musadiq. She recalled his obsession with folk musicians and the way he collected diverse musical instruments from around the world.
Apart from the physical barriers to reaching Alhamra, there were language and class barriers
Asif Farrukhi talked about Musadiq’s poetry and its various influences. The last project that Musadiq embarked on was to collect his poems in the form of a manuscript. The book was published posthumously, edited by Mr Farrukhi.
Filmmaker Farjad Nabi mentioned the time he and another friend started recording ‘fusion music’ (long before Coke Studio arrived on the scene) in a rundown recording studio in Lahore. Musadiq was also part of the project and some of those recordings are now being collected as part of a special CD.
Khayyal Festival is a recent addition to Lahore’s cultural landscape. Organized by a core team of four dynamic women, Khayyal Festival offers the denizens of Lahore a chance to celebrate arts, literature and music - a veritable bonanza of colour and a celebration of life. The inaugural session was addressed by four young Pakistanis trying to herald change in society at different levels. However, the best part was a live dhol performance by Horeya Asmat, Pakistan’s first female dhol player. The overarching theme of womens’ empowerment was evident in the programming and number of female panellists from around the globe.
Apart from the session on Musadiq Sanwal, a session titled “Not in God’s name: Religion and State” was moderated by Dr. Ayesha Siddiqa. A former editor of Indian Express, Shekhar Gupta, was supposed to take a seat at the panel but he was denied a visa to visit Pakistan. Arafat Mazhar was drafted in as a replacement and he proved to be the right choice. Other participants included Haroon Khalid and Neelam Hussain.
Horeya Asmat performed with the dhol
Haroon Khalid and Dr Ayesha Siddiqa talked about the misguided notion that ‘Sufi Islam’ is a viable alternative to the “High Church” Deobandi Islam. They recounted the intrinsic linkages between feudalism and current practices of Sufism at various shrines across the country. Arafat Mazhar talked about reforming Islamic laws from within the classical tradition. He mentioned the work being undertaken at his organization titled ‘Engage’ and informed the audience about the murky origins of our ‘Blasphemy Laws’. The discussion drifted to ISIS and sympathizers of the ‘Islamic State’ in our midst, in Pakistan itself. Attending the session was an enriching experience.
The second day of the festival included a session named ‘Exiles: Hidden Voices’ moderated by Ayesha Raja. British author and documentary maker Bidisha talked about her experience visiting the ‘detention centres’ for refugees in the United Kingdom and the dismal situation created for refugees by the UK. She refuted the common stereotypes about Syrian refugees and lauded Germany’s efficiency in handling refugees fleeing the chaos in the Middle East.
The best session from the second day was “Limbo: A dramatic reading of letters of prisoner on death row”. Performed by Sultan Khoosat, Sarmad Khoosat and Nadia Afgan, the actors brought to life the people who wrote letters from death row, collected by Justice Project Pakistan. The audience watched with bated breath as multiple death warrants were issued for one prisoner and his struggles with the idea of death and being caught in a limbo. Readings from the letters were juxtaposed with a rendition of the Pakistan Penal Code on procedures that have to be followed for hanging a prisoner and George Orwell’s essay ‘A Hanging’. The performance left many people teary-eyed and was a deeply emotional experience.
The attendance at Khayyal festival was less than the usual clutter seen at LLF every year, which was both a blessing and a regret (in that more people deserved to witness the sessions). Raza Ali, a regular attendee of the annual festivals talked about the indirect exclusion of certain classes from the festivals. He was of the view that apart from the physical barriers that had to be traversed to reach Alhamra, there were language and class barriers that kept people away from such events. With limited opportunities for expressing creativity and ‘just having a good time’ in the city, people should ideally throng to such events. He requested the organisers to either hold such festivals in more ‘public’ places or arrange similar events having considered what people from other classes value more. Should more people be allowed to enter this ‘bubble’ or should there even be a ‘bubble’? This remains the question.
