Saving Face, a documentary featuring victims of acid violence in Pakistan and the efforts of a British-Pakistani plastic surgeon Dr M Ali Jawad to conduct free plastic surgery for these women, has been nominated for an Oscar. The film is a collaborative effort between the American film-maker Daniel Junge, whose idea it was to document Jawad’s contribution and who has an Oscar nomination for an earlier film, and Sharmeen Obaid Chinoy, a 1978-born Pakistani film-maker who has won an Emmy award for her documentary Children of the Taliban/Pakistan’s Taliban Generation, an in-depth investigation of the Taliban’s methods of brainwashing and training young Pakistani northerners for combat and suicide attacks.

Acid violence, an extreme form of physical abuse aimed mainly at women, is underreported in Pakistan. Official figures state that a hundred cases of acid violence are filed every year, though it is estimated that the actual figure is far greater. An acid attack literally means throwing acid on a person’s face, which burns and melts the flesh, sometimes the bone as well, leading to disfigurement, loss of sight and traumatic physical and emotional consequences. This form of violence takes place in many parts of the world, including Afghanistan, Pakistan, Bangladesh, India and Cambodia. Recent attacks in more developed nations include a mass attack on shoppers in Hong Kong, and the attack on British model Katie Piper in the UK.

The frequency of attacks in Pakistan can be linked to illiteracy, poverty, gender discrimination and inequalities that make it difficult for women to know their rights and to access the judicial system. Reasons of attacks can vary from a turneddown marriage proposal, suspected sexual advances of wives towards other men or simply irrational jealousy. The attackers are usually men, but there are also cases when older women have helped to disfigure their daughters-in-law. The Seraiki belt of southern Punjab is where most of the attacks take place. This is an area of extreme poverty and high levels of illiteracy. Acid is also easily available as it is used to process cotton, which is the major crop here.

Saving Face was filmed in Pakistan, mainly in the Seraiki belt, Pindi, Islamabad and Karachi. The film features Zakia, a 39-year-old woman who had acid thrown on her by her husband after filing for divorce, and Rukhsana, a 23-year-old woman who was attacked by her husband and in-laws and forced to reconcile with them.

British-Pakistani plastic surgeon Dr Jawad has long worked with the victims of such attacks. With his vast knowledge and experience in burns reconstruction, Mohammad Jawad has worked for Acid Survivors Trust International (ASTI) and Islamic Help to support the victims of attacks. He also contributes to the Smiles Better campaign, a rehabilitation project for acid-attack survivors, by providing life-changing reconstructive surgery. He says that the most challenging aspect of working with the victims is managing their expectations. Victims can never look just as they did even after surgery. The directors of the film are also working on an outreach programme to educate the victims and connect them to people who can provide them vocational training. Excerpts from an interview with Chinoy:

Tell us about Sharmeen Obaid Films and the beginnings of ‘Saving Face’.

SOC Films has been a long time coming but I finally opened the production house in Karachi last year. It will allow me to expand my work and focus on some local projects. My co-director, Daniel Junge, asked me to join his team when the project was in its initial stages. I had just had a baby and lost my father all in the span of a few months and I desperately wanted to throw myself into a project that I knew would make a difference. So Daniel who had heard of my work reached out to me at the right time. Daniel thought it would be fascinating to see how Dr Jawad’s revolutionary plastic surgery skills could be used in Pakistan. We wanted to show how Pakistanis help other Pakistanis, and our story shows the audience how a country’s people can help overcome problems.

Dr Jawad came into the limelight when BBC channel 4 aired a documentary about his work with victim and model Katie Piper. Please shed light on his involvement with Saving Face.

Dr Jawad is Saving Face. The documentary would not be possible without his incredible work. He is a great example of an educated and successful Pakistani coming home to give back to his community. He is an incredible plastic surgeon who worked for celebrities but also gave hope and improved the lives of the women who were the victims of acid violence.

Daniel Junge is known as a documentary filmmaker who has an extraordinary ability to elicit emotion and create empathy with his audience. What was it like to direct with him?

Daniel and I felt we were a good match because we both shared a passion for storytelling. Working with him was a wonderful experience. We brought different sensibilities to the table and ended up making a film that we both regard as the best documentary we have produced so far in our careers.

How do you feel about being the first ever Oscar nominee from Pakistan?

These recognitions reinforce the fact that you can come from anywhere but if you work hard and strive for excellence your work will be appreciated at the highest levels. I am humbled and honored that my work has received such acclaim.

Do you feel your profile as a young Pakistani woman brings your work greater attention? Does the profile sometimes overshadow the work itself?

My profile is my work. I am a journalist and documentary maker and that is how I see myself first and foremost. I also help manage The Citizens Archive of Pakistan, so I wear many hats. I don’t think my profile overshadows my work.

Critics of your work describe your films, and specifically ‘Saving Face’, as “fodder for anti-Pakistan and anti-Islam media”.

We do journalism not public relations and so our job is to convey the truth, promote critical discourse and prevent ostrich mentality. We try to encourage people to come together to problem solve as a community. When Saving Face is released viewers will realise it is a story of resilience highlighting the perseverance of the lawyers who fought the cases, the parliamentarians who passed the bill, and the doctors who came to help. It is a microcosmic example of the way Pakistanis can help themselves, and as the strongest narrative, that is what is most relevant. Our solutions lie within our own borders and our own people.

How do you balance the demands of your work and being a young mother? Any tips for women who must work and parent simultaneously?

I attribute my success to my family, especially my husband and to the people I have worked with, they have propelled me to push harder and reach new heights. Juggling work and family is challenging but not impossible. The secret to parenting and working hard is in having fantastic family who babysit whenever you need them to!

TEXTUAL: LUSH

Please follow this link to view my new work: http://vimeo.com/35873548

Please follow this link to view my new work: http://vimeo.com/35873548

In less than nine days from now, my ninth street neighbour will be setting up home more than nine thousand flying kilometres away from where she and I are now. neither she nor I have lived on or near ninth street for over a year, but distance hasn’t kept us away – instead it has created an uninhibited sense of comfort – the kind where you can holiday together, cry together, feel free to embarrass yourself – almost like the highest degree of ownership; the simple privilege of going over and borrowing an egg or a cup of sugar.

My ninth street neighbour who I often write about teaches me about being free, about the beauty of accepting one’s true life and denying stifling boundaries, borders and obligation. She teaches me about embracing love, family, friends and oneself. My ninth street neighbour will be a little farther than I would like her to be, and perhaps the borrowed cup of sugar; the excuse to see her really, will probably become a rare novelty. The distance, I am certain, will result in more holidays, more private traditions, a lot more joy and definitely a lot more sugar.

My ninth street neighbour may not always be there to babysit my son, or help sell my pottery – but she will be there to count on in many other ways. She is a giver, a provider, a maker, a lover – she embraces, like no other. Ninth street neighbour, I have had no words all this time, I have not known what to say or how to wish you good-bye and safe travels, but I think I am coming around. I wish you exploration, discovery, joyous moments, tastiest food, cozy nights and delightful days; all in your new home, in your new city, in our world. It is your time to take it all and relish..cherish..savour and celebrate.

One love.

The artists in their brief pose questions and reveal the context of the show as, ‘How do we deal with the constant return to those thoughts which invade our minds? How do we deal with the strange working of our brains? How do we escape? We take the only predetermined measure, available to us. In other words, we make lots of art, with all its colors, and forms or the lack of it, the repetition of nervous breakdowns, or the stillness of time. We immerse ourselves into the psychological, the emotional. And inside we will find all those things which make us naked, vulnerable, man, woman, young, old, and at times, visceral, almost like an untamed youth. As one begins to dissect these thoughts, one begins to see that we are not just one thing. We are actually a composition of our pleasant and horrid experiences. It was in fact an exaggeration of our feelings. Once out, we experience what is commonly known as catharsis.  This is when we truly begin to interpret and reinterpret the visual, which was a mere thought, which transforms into an opinion, which then further transforms into a complete work of art. As a consequence, we have now created a dialogue.’

This realization of having created a dialogue hence pushes the art further and creates avenues for deeper investigation, questions and responses. Salman Toor’s work stands out demanding just that. His painting questions personal experiences, memories, and cultural dilemmas and push the viewer to come forth and think. Toor’s mark is alive and his strokes breathe, and his work brought flesh and volume to the show.

Salman Toor, Village Heroes, Oil on Linen

Toor has dedicated himself to the figure and his style is best described in his statement as.. ‘the Italian Renaissance meets seamlessly with graphic painting for local cinema billboards, these pictures are not a literal amalgam of their commercial sources; they look like museum-worthy pieces. They convince us that the impulse to paint vivid images and aspire to the skill of the Old Masters of pre-modern Western Art is not only a feasible one but also a contemporary one. The spiritual light with which Toor paints ordinary merchandise and bodies in an age of exhausted irony and innumerable image banks restores feeling to them.’

In complete contrast to his style is the work of Hina Farooqui. Though she speaks of several issues like personal struggle, weight loss, alienation and the need to restore balance, her work is focussed. Hina Farooqui is on to something and it is most exciting to imagine the work that will result from her current creations and developments. Her art appears naïve and young, playful and personal and at the same time it is very direct and refreshing, unlike a lot of heavy and overly conceptualized contemporary art.

Hina Farooqui, Fields of Gold, Cyanotype and Gauche on Vasli,

Sana Obaid’s ‘Epiphany’ is described as a result of personal struggle, she says, ‘My work is the outcome /revelation of all what I have gone through or going through, my surface can be seen as my mind where so much is going on, where a lot happening same as in my mind all the time but I see the final art works as the Epiphany.’  For a work titled ‘Epiphany’ the words attached to it are inarticulate and vague, and leave the viewer thinking about the real reasons for making this work. It seems that Sana’s art is purely material driven, in her creations she is celebrating and enjoying every piece of double-sided tape, which she has used to create the semi-sculptural work of art. Most of the time art is best delivered honestly, and simplicity is a psychological space in itself.

Another honest and playful document of experience are Farooq Mustafa’s works, he says “This body of work is part of series “Ambiguous Journey” based on my experience of becoming familiar with a foreign environment during the course of my stay in Japan. The fluidity and freeness of my work helps to express my perception of my surroundings, which define our comfort zones and aid in the adaptation to an unknown place.” The drawings are crowded memoirs of visual joy, yet the fact that a ‘gaijin’ has drawn his memories of Japan, almost as if Japanese himself, brings humour and lightheartedness to the work. Nonetheless coming across joyous work in a gallery setting is a rarity these days.

Farooq Mustafa, Ambiguous Journey Series-I, II Mixed Media on Handmade Paper

There were other works, some technically superior than the ones mentioned above, some a bit more clever, some simply created to stun the viewer – the show as a whole worked on most levels. It could have been hung differently, and that would have added to the strength of the display. Psychological Space represented the strength and diversity in young Pakistani art. It addressed questions posed by artists – yet it was quite apparent that most of the work displayed was being made to fit the conceptual criteria of the show, rather than standing for itself.

LETTERS FROM THE OTHER SIDE : Daily Post India

(http://dailypostindia.com/)

Jagjit saheb’s voice lingers in Karachi

Dear India,

As I sit here writing to you, the only words coming to mind are ‘Old McDonald’s had a farm, EE YA EE YA YO’. Yes, indeed I am a mother of a two-year-old who has recently learnt nursery rhymes in baby school, and refuses to go to bed without me singing the same over and over again. Besides that I am also struggling with a mosquito that has managed to find its way inside, through my usually impenetrable border of coils, sprays and desi totka’s.

Last evening after a ridiculously long workday, I finally got down to sowing some herb and salad seeds in the verandah. In this upstairs section of a rented property, I have managed to create a makeshift brick-and-soil ‘kiyaari’ (lawn) to grow these goodies in. October is the time to plant and by December I will have enough to make salad every alternate day, at least. I began sowing an hour before sundown, hurrying it all up to finish before the ‘maghrib azaan’. This is something I learnt from Salim, he had said never ever to sow seeds after sundown.

Salim is a very superstitious, inter-faith, surma-wearing shrine goer, who began work as domestic staff at my family home nearly 25 years ago. He sure is a good laugh, and mostly over the top, but he is always right. He predicts the weather, suggests natural remedies and while cleaning, has been seen speaking to the ‘jharoo and poncha’ a number of times over the years.
Two nights ago, I went to visit my mother, and found Salim in a trance like state sitting outside the main door, accompanied by our dog Zizou, listening to the most insensitive, awfully crude, commercially viable type of an excuse for qawwali, on his Chinese mobile phone.

So while sowing the seeds at my verandah, I decided to listen to Jagjit saheb. All of us have heard and enjoyed his music at some point of our lives. For me his sound is a childhood memory of the early eighties Hindi film release of ‘Aaj’. The softness of Kumar Gaurav’s character, the mastered craft of Smita Patel’s acting and the fluid expressive voice of Jagjit Singh’s Vo Kagaz ki Kishti, Vo Baarish ka Paani. Till this day my father often pulls out the harmonium and sing this for us, and often it brings back that same familiar childlike emotion.

My repertoire of Jagjit saheb’s music is not limited, his music is perhaps what introduced me to valuing and understanding expression in ghazal, leading me to revere, fall in love with and learn from music of the king and queen of ghazal; Mehdi Hassan Saheb and Farida Khanum.

May Singh saheb continue pleasing the heavens with his soulful sound.

We are losing our cultural and emotional connections so very fast, it is time to reach out and share what is still around us, and that, which has enriched our lives and jeweled our memories.

Peace and Love,

Raania.

‘Simple Dimple’
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Brownies with cake spice topped with M&Ms (neighbours gift), plated on Sunday Bazar vintage Japanese dish.

‘Heard the rain and thunder in my sleep last night, my room was darker than usual even in the early hours of the morning, and my belly heavier than when I went to bed. The many times I rose to sleep walk myself to the bathroom, I would feel an overwhelming happiness looking at the leaves of trees outside the bathroom window drenched in heavens waters….Despite my pregnant desires to sleep in.. I was curious to go out and smell the house after the rain; the musty dim darkness of our living room, which is lined on most sides by large windows, was a labyrinth of shadows. The rain had pacified the heat. The forty degrees, which filled me with sweat yesterday turned into maybe twenty-seven degrees and the water in the taps was icy for our southern standards. The rain had paused, leaving its remnants on my balcony and on the city, plants were so green and the red terracotta of the planters; a wet orange, bright and satisfied.
A phone conversation with my father and a few bites into breakfast, the thunder arrived once more. And the sky broke its water with happiness and relief, feeling lighter, restful and elated. The clouds began breathing better and the potted plants now overflowed with earth and water, spilling the brown liquid surplus onto the balcony floor. The lamps are lit in my home and lady is singing the song of Mary. I am enjoying the darkness of a monsoon midday shower. The rainfall continues; the sky over Karachi has waited nearly a year to deliver its fruit. I continue to wait eagerly to deliver mine.’ (Pregnant Sky ’09)

Today two years later, the shadows in our house are different, the way the wind, dust and light enter the house through the verandah are different, the tree in the garden under which we cut your birthday cake is ancient, but new to us. I will never ever feel the same way about a house as I did about 47, the home which you came to. A few months ago, when we moved to 72, all I thought of was how fascinating a monsoon shower would be, while sitting in this old verandah, how magical a daytime thunderstorm would be to watch from the stairs, looking onto the lawn, as the trees and flowers would bathe renewing their colours and energy.

It is a bit past midday and there is no sign of rain. I wish you all the same I wished for you last year and each day since then. I also wish for rain, so you and I can play amidst the trees, flowers, birds and clouds. May nature and its goodness always renew and energize you. May you live long, healthy, happy and strong. My beautiful child, I love you.

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For Ivan  (31.07.10)

At this hour a year ago you were swimming in my expanded belly. With room only for you and nothing else my body responded to your movements; shifts, kicks, nudges and agreements produced soft waves on the exterior my stretched skin. At this hour I was eager to see your face and you were eager to join the world. And now a year later I know that there is no other who I have unconditional love for. When I see you I see a part of myself.

On that day we wished that you bring love, peace and intelligence to this world. Today, on your birthday, I wish for the same. May your eyes see the beauty and wisdom in faces of strangers. May you sing the songs you love, an speak the words that you truly wish to express. May your hands work honestly and hard - doing only what your heart and mind desires. May you earn well, but only enough to live your dreams and not lose grace and taste. May you read, understand and appreciate all beliefs, and may you never feel superior to any other because of your own beliefs and virtues. May righteousness mean goodness to you, and not differentiation and obligation. Ivan, may you never, never ever represent the unfortunate norms of this hateful world. May the love and compassion in your heart be your driving force. I wish that to those empty minds who look upon you with evil, God provides inspiration and positivity. I pray for you to forever know that you are loved, and that you must love. I pray that you travel to faraway lands to appreciate  cultures and people, and to explore oceans and mountains – but not be suffocated by the plastics of globalization. May your mind and heart always say no to methods of war; weapons and hate. May you protest against what you disagree with, but peacefully and with supreme intelligence. May you read what inspires you and achieve the greatest levels of education. May you understand that education is not rigour and system, and know that a true education is self motivated and comes from ones own soul. May you fall in love with all that which moves you and gives you energy. May you always have the liberty the choose. May God bless you with the luxury of freedom and individuality, may you always work to attain this.

Ivan, may your heart forever be as pure as it is today.

31.07.2010

Some of my work photographed at the summer sale.

(Photos by Fahad Asadullah)

For details of the upcoming pottery sale & other inquiries please contact me via email : Raania.durrani@gmail.com

2. Blue Benn Diner, North Bennington VT, USA

3. Sam’s Bar, Kathmandu, Nepal

4. Yaffa Cafe, New York, NY, USA

5. Manna, Bangkok, Thailand

6. Patata, Aomori, Japan

7. Lemongrass Grill, NewYork, Ny, USA

8. Ninja Crepes, Koh Samui, Thailand

9. Misakamaru, Tokyo, Japan

10. Flamingo Chaat, Karachi, Pakistan

11. Thai Garden, Williamstown, MA, USA

12. Cafe de Hunza, Karimabad, Hunza, Pakistan

13. Taj Mahal, Nathiagali, Pakistan

….and so many more…shall keep adding to this….yum.

(Please do take a moment to list your tastiest memories in the comments section!)

Dr.Arfa Sayeda Zehra inspires at the Karachi Literature Festival.

The first time I heard Dr. Arfa Sayeda Zehra speak was on the television. It was a heated discussion on politics, society and education. Several prominent personalities were being called for an opinion, nearly all, including a trendy and uninformed anchor, yelled and panted to get their points across. When Dr. Arfa appeared on screen, she brought with her, grace and clarity. Her statements were articulate, and the questions she posed were thought provoking, providing a direction and an opportunity for the listener to ponder and eventually decide upon their own individual stance. This was nearly three years ago. I had often heard about Dr. Arfa from my husband, who was her student during the time she taught at LUMS. He would say that he had never heard a better speaker or been under the guidance of a better teacher.

At the Karachi Literature Festival on Sunday, Dr.Arfa was a panelist at a discussion titled ‘Is Reading Dead & Other Dilemmas.’ (Panelists: Anita Ghulam Ali, Arfa Sayeda Zehra, Ghazi Salahuddin, Ameena Saiyid  amd Attiya Abbas. Moderator: Asif Noorani). Mr.Salahuddin began the discussion and emphasized on the lack of resources for readers, he admitted to painting a dim picture and his stance was supported by Ms.Ghulamali, who also pointed out the responsibilities of parents and teachers, who must work actively towards instilling the reading habit specially amongst children. She also spoke of her childhood memories of the Oscar Wilde stories her mother had narrated, and how they have become a prominent part of her memory. Ms. Ghulamali was very opinionated about the ‘bedtime story’ habit, and that reading to children must not only be reserved for that time.  She stressed on the need for government initiatives to make recycled material available to publishers, resulting in lower prices of books.

Mr.Noorani who admitted to not knowing of her prior to lunchtime then introduced Dr.Arfa Sayeda; at which Dr. Arfa humorously said that the outcomes of lunchtime introductions often depend on the taste of the lunch itself.  She began speaking in her patent, lucid way, her style and tone specifically in the Urdu language is most poetic and expressive. Dr. Arfa began by telling a story of contribution and unity. She spoke of the joint effort that is needed to encourage goodness and positivity in the society, and touched upon the need for neither a masculine nor a feminine way, but a humanitarian way. The only bridge from being an organism to a soulful human is a book, she said.

My dearly beloved Zia, she said satirically, disliked poets and writers. As an employee of the state she was asked to meet with him and discuss this dilemma – he disliked them because they thought and they also expressed. Dr. Arfa then spoke about the irony of the self. She poetically described the act of seeing ones reflection in the mirror; which makes visible what is not there, and hides what actually is.  This thought was followed by her disagreement with blaming the government for not supporting the arts. Those who cannot follow and enforce benevolence and humanitarianism cannot be expected to support the arts, she said.

In response to the other speakers she agreed that there was a dearth of writers, books and literature – once again, just as in Zia’s times, she said, writers and poets are concerned about what they write, how they write it, who would read it and the consequences that would follow. In her powerful voice she then said, what happened to Governor Saheb – can easily happen to any of us. Despite the deadly air of silence that prevails, Dr.Arfa seemed hopeful about people and their choices. She pointed out aptly, that if reading had died and readers were no more, the current exchange between her and the audience would not be happening.

About the price of books, she said that many considered a pizza combo deal advertised for Rs.1000 cheap; a deal that would disintegrate by the next morning – but a book priced at Rs.500 seemed expensive. She pointed of the longevity of the book and the many readers it would enlighten – the audience was sold.

After the panel discussion ended, Dr.Arfa joined us for tea. She graciously answered our questions and told us repeatedly that ‘mine is a failed generation – it is yours that must make the change, you must bring about the literary revolution’. When I expressed the need to study Urdu, she suggested some readings and told me to request her recorded lectures from ‘Faiz Ghar’ in Lahore where she speaks often. She urged us to discuss and analyze Urdu literature at our reading group and to start by reading short stories. She spoke highly of the Karachi Literature Festival and the refreshing familiarity it brought to her during these claustrophobic times. At the end of our meeting she spoke about the state of affairs in the country, and a moving thought summed up our conversation. Beautifully phrased in Urdu, Dr.Arfa said that ‘Jo mutmaeen nahi vohi mujrim hain’. (Those who are discontent are the ones who are delinquent’.

Dr.Arfa Sayeda Zehra is a scholar and visionary. She holds a PhD History, an M.A. Asian Studies, and an M.A. Urdu. Dr.Arfa served as the Chairperson of the ‘National Commission on the status of women’. She has written several papers and articles, for journals and magazines, and has served as the principal of the Government College for women Lahore and the Lahore College for women. She formed the Urdu department at the Lahore University of Management Sciences, and now continues to teach at the Forman Christian College in Lahore.

Raania A.K Durrani lives in Karachi (http://raania.wordpress.com)

http://www.thefridaytimes.com/18022011/page18.shtml

My father is a star – a great chef, specializing in good old Pakistani comfort food. Nothing compares. During the past three days of having chickenpox and not having access to my beloved kitchen, cutting board, stove, pots and pans; I have tasted the best of my father’s home cooked compassion. The top five include, ‘Chooza’ soup, ‘khichri’, ‘baghar-e-baingan’, ‘kache-dam ki biryani’ and ‘gajar ka halwa’.  My usually enthusiastic appetite is slightly dim, but my husband’s isn’t, and he has rated the halwa as number one in his history of halwa consumption. (He is a very reliable and experience source.)

I love my blackberry. It is so wonderful to be able  to send my husband requests (while shivering with fever) for water, pills and sympathy without having to talk or walk over to the other room. He is a kind man who has brought home; plants, flowers, gingerale, calamine lotion, chocolates, movies and books as gifts. Meanwhile, a tray of food has just arrived from my father’s kitchen – I hear it is ‘shaljum gosht’ – the king of comfort food. No my father is not Kashmiri, he is Pathan. So why is he cooking ‘Shaljum Gosht’.. one would think. Well, my nani (maternal grandmother) is Kashmiri to the core, he learnt it from her – and he makes her proud.

In an attempt to ignore the physical discomfort – I continue to write. Saleem, is a middle-aged man who has been my parent’s employee since we were very little. Saleem is a Punjabi – Catholic, who also has interfaith leanings and a strong belief in the Sufi traditions. Salim also celebrates and observes everything that is mystical and poetic. He has instructed me to place a glass of water sprinkled with rose petals on my bedside, and to change the water daily. The water must not be disposed down the drain, but instead offered to the plants. This practice would ensure less pockmarks on the face. I think its working. There is also some talk of inviting seven children on the seventh day of the pox, and making a dot of henna on their palms and giving them gifts of sweet rice. This activity should ensure recovery without relapses or complications. Apparently wearing white is also not advised.

A jet-lagged school friend dropped off coffee and essentials early this morning, and another came over with a beautiful flowering plant – what more can one ask for. it is almost lunch time and the ‘Shaljum’ is calling. Such is the pleasure of being cared for in a culture that  over-feeds and never stops loving.

Another writer confessed that she feels silly writing about her observations, art, culture or gardening. She feels it may appear inappropriate in these times. I really feel that we must continue expressing and writing about things we love. We cannot be pressurized and expected to adopt a certain point of view, and forever comment on politics, social injustice and all the gloom that prevails.

Living in Karachi; making a home in Karachi, choosing Karachi – is personal. My relationship with my city is personal. Why is it so that I must not appreciate and share its beautiful moments and only reserve my expression for its hard times and its losses. I want to make clear that I can and must cherish my life.  To celebrate one’s life is not meant to mock another’s loss. I have written about this earlier and often wondered why we cannot just for a moment remove ourselves from the gloom and doom; just so we can enjoy and love our lives in our city, and for once not be ashamed of it, or fearful that someone will categorize us as the ‘uninformed’, the ‘FCS’ or as ‘privileged and incorrect’.

Karachi is known as the bifurcated city, the city of millions and the city of subcultures. I was born here, I live here, I work very hard here – I represent Karachi, as I know it; whether under a tree, across a bridge, in my kitchen or in a cellar.