Much like the citizens of Karachi, all Pakistani satirists have to deal with no-go areas. They realise that if a punchline does not sit well with some people, some punches (and perhaps bullets) may await them.
On day two of the fourth Karachi Literature Festival, the Jasmin Hall at the Beach Luxury Hotel was packed to the rafters and the air was ripe with anticipation as people waited to see Ali Gul Pir speak at the session on social satire.
“Why do we only make fun of politicians, why not the clergy or the media?” asked Nadeem F Paracha, a question he did not get a satisfactory answer to throughout the session. Actor Bushra Ansari, one of the panellist said, “We had limited themes earlier – telephones, electricity, income tax, customs… then the topic on top became the politicians.”
According to her, although there were many satirists who commented on everything under the sun, they still refrained from certain subjects. “Nobody touches [the armed forces] or [a certain political party]… perhaps they’re scared of them,” she said.
Comedian Beo Zafar, who had toured extensively in the US, found it was easier to talk about everything if she dropped their “ego” or the “I” from the equation. She went on to narrate how a combination of charm and humour rescued many potentially awkward interactions with irate audience members. “If I keep my ego at the front, people will find me hostile.”
The ladies man
When the moderator directed his next question at Ali Gul Pir, high-pitched catcalls pierced the far end of the hall. The musician, known for his satirical tracks Waderai ka Beta and Taroo Maroo, had received some scathing criticism after the music video for the second song. In it, the lyrics “bachi bhi taroonga” (I’ll ogle girls) segued to a small girl looking into the camera. Feminists insisted the video endorsed paedophilia or at the very least gave the impression it was okay to stare at young girls. However Pir maintains that “the song is about how a girl cannot even cross a road without 10 people staring at her. I know we have bigger problems in Pakistan, but it’s not okay for men to do that.”
Pir, who has roots in Dadu, feels people in Pakistan are not ready to discuss certain taboo topics. “We have to become more open to talk about things. When we can’t tolerate criticism of feudal, then how will we ever talk about the army?”
He added he received death threats after Waderai ka Beta. Pir maintained his songs were for social commentary in an entertaining guise – a space which had not been tackled in the music industry since Vital Signs and Junoon.
“Why aren’t people able to take satire on religion?” NFP, known for his unrelenting style, poked for an answer.
“For that we need to sow the seeds of education now, for the tree to bear fruit in 20 years, quite like Ziaul Haq sowed madrassahs 25 years ago,” Ansari retorted to a roomful of laughter. Pir seemed to agree, reiterating the need for society to mature before it could deal with certain topics.
At this point, NFP circled back to General Ziaul Haq – did his oppression cause artists to focus on sneaky, high quality work and is today’s comparative freedom giving birth to copious but less-intelligent content?
“We were relevant in our times. We carefully skirted some issues through comedy,” replied Ansari. “This generation is living in a very difficult social scenario. We might’ve laughed at [power outages] and taxes. These are difficult times – it is harder to laugh, to make people laugh.”
Published in The Express Tribune, February 17th, 2013.