Fans of Pakistani cricket were not able to watch their team playing at an international level, but enjoyed the same emotional feelings through other sports; at the biggest stages including FIFA World Cup and Wimbledon. Aged and youngsters recalled the emotions shared by Pakistani cricket players in the form of nail biting and enthralling performances, engulfing the feeling of joy, which is the main objective of sports. Coming back to cricket, however, the expectations were high because it was a test for cricket to prove that it does not lag behind the world’s leading sports, where excitement, skill and competition matter the most. Despite the fame of unpredictability, the underrated player, Younus Khan, once again proved his worth – he stepped-up his rating and kept the fans faith in the game steady; his tedious innings were full of thrill, joy and pure delectation. Younus is a peerless blend of talent, skill, stamina and experience; the ingredient of a top-class player. And against Sri Lanka, all these components played an active role in the taste of his innings. Batting at number three requires circumspect, switching between defence and attack. And for a team whose openers depart quickly, number three plays an anchoring roll; which Younus seemed to know very well. He is now the second highest away runner, after Sachin Tendulkar, as he managed to score his 24^th century in Sri Lanka. Younus’s career has gone through many off-the-field interruptions, including fights with the chairman that kept him away from action for more than a year and some out of form periods that hurt his reputation as the leading Test batsman. Another paradigm was the recent injustice done to him when, normally, listed as an A-category player, Younus, was demoted to B-category. Only five players were at the top, including captains of both formats: experienced Shahid Afridi along with, the world’s number one One-Day International (ODI) player, Saeed Ajmal. Despite being the most technical and elegant batsman of 21st century, and especially after the retirement of great players, like Jacques Kallis, Rahul Dravid and Tendulkar, Younus Khan’s presence in top category was definitely missed. Only Younus Khan and Shivnarine Chanderpaul, of West Indies, are the ones fans relish to watch. Some serious feedback from fans, former and present cricketers, and Younus himself, was given to this announcement and Pakistan Cricket Board (PCB) had to eventually change their decision. Younus proved his worth in the first match played and is the only player in the current line-up of high standard in technique, is resilient and is even the fittest amongst them all. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="410"] PHOTO: AFP[/caption] Pakistan’s fast bowling attack is relatively young, as compared to batting line up of the mighty Lankans, but this time we have Waqar Younus as the head coach. His experience, both as super star fast bowler and a successful coach, will help give Junaid Khan and Mohammad Talha the confidence needed to go through the opposing line-up. The series is going to be a memorable one for Lankans. Are they going to win? It is the last series of their most famed and respected star batsman, Mahela Jayawardene; the batsman who anchored the Lankan ship after the retirement of previous greats. But will he be able to perform the same in his last series? So far it looks like he will leave no stone unturned to put a memorable end to his majestic career. When you have batsmen like Younus and Jayawardene in the same match, you get the same sense of satisfaction you would get when you used to watch cricket back in the day – in the glory days.

Now’s the moment for a liberal to decide if he truly stands for the principles of liberalism, wherever applicable, or if he’s simply saying the opposite of what his conservative uncle shouts at the dinner table. Operation Protective Edge, involving a military superpower descending upon a small strip of land that Palestinians have magnanimously been allowed to squash together into, has gathered supporters from the unlikeliest quarters. There has been an intense debate over the asymmetrical nature of the ‘conflict’, parodied to perfection by the consistently liberal political comedian, Jon Stewart. Others, like Bill Maher and Joan Rivers, jumped ship. They gladly adopted the gruelling task of justifying an operation with 77% civilian casualties; to exhume Israel’s ‘self-defence’ argument, currently buried beneath a mountain of photographs of dead civilians. Provided that many of the grotesque pictures you see on social media are fake or misrepresented, the statistics are still far too much to bear. So uncomfortable, in fact, that Israel had to ban a radio ad by a human rights group from listing the names of dead Palestinian children. I wondered if each could be assigned a roll number instead, or would that also bear a risk of unnecessarily humanising their victims? I find myself beleaguered by the following comments set on ‘repeat’ mode on social media:

“What about Muslims in Syria and Iraq?”

“They’re against Israel because of its Jewish identity.”

“Pakistanis should fix their own mess first!”

“I realise it’s like the pot calling the kettle black, but in the pot’s defence, it is telling the truth! You may call it a hypocrite if you must, but certainly not a liar.”

Last night, while Pakistani men were anxiously waiting for the premier’s speech, to be aired at 8pm, the women had a completely different, and might I add ‘dramatic’, agenda to grab hold of the TV remote. Coincidentally, the prime minister’s speech took place at the same time when the series finale of Pyare Afzal – which could safely be dubbed as one of the most widely watched television serials of all time – was to be aired. On one hand, this diffused the political tension for the fans; on the other, it became a reason for family discords over the TV remote and polarised interests. The air was rife with anticipation and the channel had started a stopwatch countdown for the finale as fans and followers were placing bets on how it would end. Amid all this frenzy, women were seen praying and intending sadqas for a possible happy ending. [embed width="620"]http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x21t1uj_jane-wo-kesay-log-thay-jin-k-pyar-ko-pyar-mila-pyaray-afzal-ost-video-dailymotion_music[/embed] Unfortunately for them, the writer, Khalilur Rehman Qamar, was clever enough to know that tragic heroes are always mythologised. Some cinemas even arranged special screening for the finale, which I remember happened only once before, for the Turkish drama serial Ishq-e-Mamnoo that had become exceptionally popular back in 2012. For the local drama industry, the screening of Pyare Afzal was a first. The final episode erupted unprecedented social media response. The emotional outpour was a mix; fans were mourning the death of their hero and venerating the love saga whereas sarcastic and humorous posts were finding comic relief in the tragic ending. Resilience is the best part of being Pakistani, as we always end up finding happiness in the most unlikely of places and that’s how we refuse to bow down before the shadows of fear and chaos. There ensued a frenzy of tweets, heartbroken Facebook statuses, sad Instagram posts and other updates on different media platforms. A Facebook friend in their status mourned,

“Afzal ko kyun mara?” (Why was Afzal killed?) “Afzal died!” lamented another.

“Imran Khan say baad may baat ho gi, pehlay batao ye Afzal kaun hai?” (I will talk to Imran later; first tell me, who is this Afzal?)

Distances don’t matter if there is true love involved, I strongly believe in this. I may not live in Pakistan anymore but that doesn’t mean I don’t love it or have forgotten my country. I have been wanting to write about my country for a while now. At first, I was confused about what to write on. I wasn’t sure if it should be a motivational piece quoting oft-mentioned things about Pakistan, or a letter to Pakistanis discussing their woes or a bunch of stories of people who had left India for Pakistan. What makes the perfect write-up for Pakistan? After putting a lot of thought into it, I knew what I wanted to share. The reason I am writing this article is to tell people how much Pakistan means to people who live outside this beautiful country. Pakistan is my first love; it is my country and I get filled with pride whenever I realise how fortunate I am to be born a Pakistani. You don’t have to be in Pakistan to love it or do something for it; it is still your home, no matter where you are. And I am proud of it. During a week-long event, organised by the biggest summer camping school in Jacksonville, USA, they wanted to raise awareness about foreign countries. So there was an open invitation for people who belonged to other countries or wanted to represent other countries, to share their experiences and stories. Participation in this, however, required one to follow certain steps. First, everyone had to write an essay about their country and the selected top five would then have to speak about it in front of other students. This was followed by a question and answer session. Whoever won the competition had to give a comprehensive presentation about his/her country. There were people from around 25 countries who participated in this event. On the insistence of my friends, I decided to participate in it as well, though I was a little hesitant. I had never before participated in any such speech competition – I was really nervous. The article I wrote about Pakistan focused on three things: 1) The people of Pakistan are not terrorists; they are actually quite friendly and welcoming. 2) List of beautiful places in Pakistan people should visit. 3) Famous Pakistani personalities unknown to the world. The judges found it interesting (miraculously) and my article was selected in the top five, along with those written about Egypt, Italy, Thailand and Ghana. Next, I had to talk about Pakistan. Most of the other participants barely spoke for 10 minutes and then left, but to my surprise, I found myself unable to stop. My speech went on for about 20 minutes. While speaking, I felt like there was so much I had to say, so many misconceptions I had to clear and so many ways I could honour my country. In the question and answer sessions that followed, there were many questions asked of me. The whole session took about 30 minutes. Everyone was so curious about Pakistan. Here are a few of the questions asked,

“Do people kill in Pakistan for fun?” “Why are your people terrorists?” “How do you people sleep?” “Tell us some more places in Pakistan to visit?” “Do you feel proud or ashamed of being a Pakistani?”

“Would you like to say something at the end?” she asked. “Yes; just one thing, if you all would like to join me in it. I will say Pakistan, and all of you have to reply with ‘Zindabad’” I said. “Sorry? Zinday what?” she asked.

“Pakistan!” I shouted. “Zinda-bad!” they shouted back. “Pakistan!” I repeated, loudly. “Zinnddaa-bad!” they replied, with the same vigour. “Pakistan!” I shouted, even louder than before. “Zinnddaaa-baaad!” they shouted back.

Pak sar zameen ka nizaam Quwwat-e-akhuwat-e-awaam Quam, mulk, saltanat Paindah tabindah bad Shaadbad manzil-e-muraad (The order of this sacred land, The might of the brotherhood of the people May the nation, the country, and the state, Shine in glory everlasting! Blessed be the goal of our ambition.)

My friends and family were concerned about my health when I told them that I would be fasting during Ramazan, but my Pakistani friends all assured me that I would go back home “fatter than ever”. Food coma The tables are set up and the feast includes biryani, samosas, pakoras, jalebi, gulab jamun, naan, paratha, daal, chicken, yoghurt, dates and much more. It is a spread fit for a king and we all stand around looking at the food, then our watches, waiting for the clock to tick over to iftar time with our mouths salivating. The call to prayer is heard and the rumbled stomachs cease as everyone begins to break into the mountain of food before us. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="600"] Photo: Hannah Sutton[/caption] The food tantalises your taste buds, teasing you with flavours either spicy or sweet and not much in between the two extremes. And then within 25 minutes the food is gone. Eventually your belly is so full and swollen that you have to sit down and give it some time to digest. You soon forget about fasting for the day as you fall into a mini ‘food coma’. But before you can really fade away, the next course is served. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="500"] Photo: Tumblr[/caption] At first, I thought the iftar was all inclusive. It was entrée, dinner and desert all in one. But over the next few weeks, I was to learn that this was not the case. Iftar is merely the beginning of a long night of eating, drinking and more eating. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="500"] Photo: Tumblr[/caption] The night begins with iftar then moves onto dinner, where the spread is just as impressive, with more food than I could ever dream of eating. Then of course after eating dinner you need something sweet, then it’s time for tea, more ‘snacks’, some more tea to ‘help you digest it’ and then something sweet to clear the palette. It is a seemingly never ending cycle. It is like a true binge eating atmosphere once the fast is broken. You feel like you have to try everything on the table that you had been deprived of that day. Karachites love their food and are all too eager to show you all the different types of food in the city, not taking ‘no, sorry I’m full’ for an answer. During the night, we are whisked away from one restaurant to the next, each place famous for a particular speciality dish that we ‘simply have to try’. And as I finally lay my head to rest at the end of a long filling night of different tastes and textures, my alarm sounds for sehri time. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="500"] Photo: Tumblr[/caption] Never send a girl to do a man’s job On a separate note, we had another addition to the intern house, one that was perhaps a little more foreign than the rest of us and received a rather unwelcoming welcome – a lizard. It (who was never named) claimed the kitchen of the apartment and had successfully set up his living space in the corner cupboard. His mere presence is enough to scare the tenants of the apartment. This little creature caused screams from each of the girls in the apartment as each took turns to face the ‘beast’ to claim back our kitchen cupboard. Each, however, was unsuccessful. In desperation, we called upon the help of a fellow AEISEC-er, Hussain, who assessed the situation and then called upon the help of another to get rid of the beast. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="320"] Photo: Tumblr[/caption] We, girls, were all gathered in the lounge and soon regretted our desires to witness the evacuation. Cupboards were slammed, shoes were thrown and after a 10 minutes struggle, the noise ceased. There was a motionless black lizard lying on the ground and a room full of seven horrified girls. With the event fresh in our minds as we left the apartment that afternoon, Tatiana asked,

“Wasn’t the creature in the cupboard green?”

So if you are amongst 95% of the people of the world, you are probably intimidated by cooking. So was I, once upon a time. To look at a well-cooked dish was like looking at the great pyramids; fascinating and intriguing, but a mystery as to how it was built. But watching Nigella Lawson cook, who made it look like a piece of cake, inspired me to start cooking. And to avoid any complications, I started developing my own simple recipes. And if I can cook, trust me, so can you. Unless you have a cooking-phobia and faint upon stepping into the kitchen, in which case this might not be your cup of tea... Two days ago, I made wagon-wheel pasta, which was brought to me by serendipity (meaning: making fortunate discoveries by accident). I asked my cook to get me some penne pasta, which was transcribed as:

 “Paeeyon waala” (Pasta shaped like wheels)

A few days back, while I was on my way to college, I came across the road near Expo Centre, where the traffic was choked. Naturally, I flipped my hair and smiled at the people in the neighbouring cars; and what do you know, they smiled back! After that we got out of our respective cars, started dancing in the middle of the street with cups of tea that magically appeared in our hands. We danced and swirled while others clapped and hooted. Then, all of a sudden, the traffic opened up, everyone got back into their cars and drove on happily to their respective destinations. Ah! What a perfect day. Isn’t this what our advertisement industry shows us every day? Of course, the above mentioned incident never really happened and never will, not in Pakistan, not in America or even in some remote corner in Africa; it will never happen anywhere, because no one does that! No one thinks that dancing in the middle of the street, on a busy weekday, whilst sipping on cups of magic tea, is normal. From chewing gums to cell phones, the dancing glitz has now become an integral part of our advertisements. Here are a few examples where there was absolutely no need to add dance numbers and yet the directors seemed to feel the need for the redundant dance to take place anyway, making some utterly senseless advertisements. A cellular network advertisement The TV commercial starts off with the line,

“Yun chalay kay ballay ballay! Internet kay mazay tu kar lay!”

There has to be something about a movie where a Pakistani audience sits silently in cinemas, where mobile texting and chatting during a movie is the norm otherwise, and watch two lead characters dominate the story in a single location for 83 minutes. Billed as Pakistan’s first ‘Film Noir’, Tamanna is definitely in a league of its own in the context of Pakistani cinema. Prominent film critic Taran Adarsh raised an important point upon release of the film Barfi!,

“You don’t formulate movies (like Barfi!) targeting its box-office potential or its commercial prospects. You create such films for its passion of cinema.”

Yes, Emraan Hashmi is back in his ‘serial kisser avatar’ in Kunal Deshmukh’s Raja Natwarlal. This time Emraan is blessed with both: his serial kissing traits and his power packed spontaneous performance. The movie created a lot of buzz pre and post release, as it casts Pakistani ‘drama queen’ and movie star, Humaima Malick, opposite Emraan. [embed width="620"]http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x21ou0p_raja-natwarlal-official-trailer-emraan-hashmi-humaima-malik_people[/embed] Although, Humaima made her début in the Pakistani film industry with ‘Bol’, back in 2011, in Bollywood this is her first release. There were a lot of expectations for the movie to be a success for everyone, including Emraan, Humaima, Kunal and Kay Kay Menon. So, what happened to the movie? Let’s explore that thought. Raja Natwarlal is a typical revenge saga of a con-man, Raja Natwarlal, (Emraan Hashmi) fighting for the cold-blooded murder of his partner cum caretaker, Raghav (Deepak Tijori). Raja stands up against all odds to take vengeance from Vardha Yadav (Kay Kay Menon) with the help of a retired con artist, Yogi (Paresh Rawal). Raja leaves his love toy, Ziya (Humaima Malick) – a bar dancer, back in India and flies to Cape Town (Raghav’s empire) with Yogi to con Raghav. What happens next is a typical Bollywood caricature. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="640"] Emraan Hashmi. Photo: Publicity[/caption] Kunal and Emraan, together, gave some great hits in the past, including Jannat and Jannat 2, but this time despite being 100% dedicated to the show; they couldn’t save the movie from getting lost somewhere in translation. There was no grip in the plot; blame it on the writing, editing or whatever – Raja Natwarlal sinked at the box office. Performance wise, it is a decent affair. Emraan gives a 100% to both his images; as a revenge seeker he was believable and livid, and as a serial kisser he is back in form. And Humaima Malick does not restrict herself in any scene. In fact, she looks gorgeous throughout the film and shows no signs of shyness. She cannot be called cheap or vulgar under any circumstances for this character. She managed to look naturally sensuous. However, she deserved a much better character than just ‘acting as a support’ sort of part. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="640"] Humaima Malick. Photo: Publicity[/caption] Deepak Tijori is back on the silver screen, after a hiatus, in a brief role. He performs decently and gives exactly what was expected from him. Kay Kay Menon and Paresh Rawal were the usual: detailed, faultless and a treat to watch in some scenes. All the main characters in Raja Natwarlal are experienced and cannot be questioned on their performance potentials. The only new bird in the flock was Humaima Malick, and even she bagged (unofficially) three movie-deals as a result of this performance. One is with Vidhu Vinod Chopra (starring Sharman Joshi opposite her) and the other with Shaan, titled ‘Mission Allahuakbar’, which is about to hit Pakistani cinema theatres in 2014. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="640"] Photo: Publicity[/caption] In totality, Raja Natwarlal has nothing novel or interesting to offer; a list of talented actors is wasted. I would rate it two out of five and I am being generous.

Statistics have labelled Pakistan one of the world’s premier terrorism affected nations. However the one silver lining in the cloud of an extremist attack is a unified chant of ‘yeh hum naheen’ (this is not who we are). But when a beloved young athlete displays religious bias, can we really comfort ourselves with the same philosophy? Footage showing Pakistani opener, Ahmed Shehzad, making religious comments to Sri Lanka’s player, Tillakaratne Dilshan, has caused a media frenzy and propelled an official Pakistan Cricket Board’s (PCB) probe into the matter. In the video Shehzad is heard saying,

“If you are a non-Muslim and you turn Muslim, no matter whatever you do in your life, straight to heaven.”

“Then be ready for the fire.”

“You’re one of the sensible ones,” she said to me, mimicking the tender concern of a mother, “so I know you’ll understand. See, you were sharing your friend’s drink just now, and I’m not sure if you know that she is a Hindu. But you should be careful. It isn’t wrong to sit with them. But it is wrong to sip from the same bottle.”

“You are free; you are free to go to your temples, you are free to go to your mosques or to any other place of worship in this State of Pakistan. You may belong to any religion or caste or creed – that has nothing to do with the business of the State.”

It’s been a little over a year since my immigrant status got confirmed in Canada and I have met some interesting kinds of Pakistanis. Immigrants who tend to fall in a certain ‘type’. Even I fit in there somewhere. This is based solely on my observation and interaction. At the risk of over-generalisation, here goes: 1. Perpetual Complainers Inc. (PCI):

‘I complained in Pakistan. I’ll complain here. Stop me if you can.’

‘Oh we are leaving as soon as we get our passports!’

‘There’s no place like Canada. Back home we never…’

‘Oh if this were Pakistan, I’d have high blood pressure by now, considering the lack of queues and a proper system.’

‘Look at those responsible, honest policemen. Back home police is the most despised profession.’

‘I will never mingle with these goras (but I will eat up their welfare.)’

‘Pakistani? No no, I am Canadian! See I love Tim Horton and I have an accent and all.’

Converting the price of a $5 toothbrush and saying, ‘Oh Rs500 for a tooth brush?!’

‘I will make the most of it.’

Pakistani dramas are suddenly all the rage across the border yet again. Indian actors like Paresh Rawal, Kajol and Javed Jaffrey have praised them as a new channel, Zee Zindagi, is playing the best Pakistani dramas for Indian audiences who are happily lapping them up. There was always a cross-cultural exchange between India and Pakistan, but with the Pakistani film industry in the doldrums, and the Ekta Kapoor-style serials’ overwhelming popularity, it had become a one way street. Before this channel arrived, Indian fans, and indeed the entire sub-continental diaspora, used to watch Pakistani dramas over the internet just as we all once used to watch VHS copies of Bollywood movies. I had enjoyed a few Indian dramas earlier, like Kusum and Jassi Jaisa Koi Nahi, but dropped them in disgust at the unending twists and turns that never brought any change in the characters or their lives; but after hearing the collective sigh of relief heaved by huge swathes of Indian drama fans at the return of good Pakistani dramas on online drama pages and websites, I decided to check out a few of the latest Indian dramas to find out why. One of the recent hits across the border is Be intehaa which seems to be in some way inspired by Humsafar. Set in a Muslim family, where the hero, Zain, is forced to marry his “from-a-simpler-background” cousin, Aliya, on some traditional deathbed blackmail. However, the resemblance between the two dramas ends there. [embed width="620"]http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x1oxigh_promo-beintehaa-april-2014_shortfilms[/embed] While, in Humsafar, we first saw Asher walking quietly behind his father off to visit his sick aunt, in Be intehaa Zain first appears on screen shouting from a helicopter, about jumping into some stranger’s wedding so he could convince the bride that the groom was having a gay affair with him. [embed width="620"]http://www.dailymotion.com/video/xksryt_humsafar-on-hum-tv-promo-1_shortfilms[/embed] Aliya is your traditional Muslim girl, cycling down a busy main road in a bright yellow outfit leftover from a mehndi. In contrast, poor Khirad could only afford cotton and, that too, was hardly noticeable as she cooked and cleaned and tutored children with her mother to make ends meet. The way characters are unfolded in Indian and Pakistani dramas is poles apart. Similarly, another show, Kumkum Bhagya, is about two middleclass sisters in love with the same man. Sound familiar? No, stop right there! It is not their neighbour, relative or colleague but a millionaire rock star who causes the rift. Sorry Faisal from Maat, you just can’t compete with that. [embed width="620"]http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x1b4z9d_kumkum-bhagya-ekta-kapoor-new-show_shortfilms[/embed] While Saman and Aiman’s mother worried about making ends meet, these girls from Kumkum Bhagya have a mother who wakes up each morning to blow dry and pinup up her hair with a bunch of fake flowers before she makes the parathas. [embed width="620"]http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x15adyc_maat-ost-hd-title-song-hum-tv-drama-2013_music[/embed] The gap between the two ideas is huge and though it may just be a case of different styles, or it may just be that people want an alternate to the hyper sexuality and surreal wealth shown in Bollywood movies and Indian dramas, which they find in the form of our Pakistani dramas. They wish to see normal people on screen, dealing with difficult, sometimes unsolvable problems. I sometimes wonder if this new movement could allow for more collaborative work from people on both sides of the border. It would make for some fascinating viewing and perhaps more understanding. I think that there are many things that both industries can learn from each other. Here is a list of a few possible ideas: Ten things the Indian drama industry needs to know 1. A story needs a beginning, a climax and an end, otherwise it just becomes an endless cycle of repetitions 2. Simple and innocent do not mean gullible and naive. These characteristics cannot be translated on-screen as unnatural head-bobbers, fixed wide smiles and strangely dilated eyes. 3. Stop choosing your colours out of a five-year-old’s crayon box. Primary colours have a time and place; give other colours a chance. 4. Stop using plot twists based on elaborate schemes that only a criminal mastermind or Niccolo Machiavelli would use. Normal people are just not that clever. 5. Try writing nuanced characters and show their motivations. Real people are neither inherently evil nor entirely good. 6. Love is not earned; it is a gift freely given 7. Women have honour; if they are abused, maltreated or disrespected, they can speak up and ultimately leave. They do not have to spend a lifetime proving themselves worthy to some man so he can appreciate them. 8. Credit your audience with some intelligence and allow a character to make a significant move without drum-rolls playing in the background. Allow your talented actors to actually act the emotion, instead of making the director of photography do all the work. 9. You have talented writers; allow them to tell real stories about the real world around them. Drop the Disney act. 10. Enough with the forced ‘cute’ characters. Watching an Indian drama is sometimes akin to drowning in a vat of sugary syrup. It isn’t working. Sensible and normal is so much better. Ten things the Pakistani drama industry needs to know 1. Get an editor. Long, drawn out scenes where the characters sigh and give each other significant looks which the audience is left to decipher should be used with scrupulous rarity. 2. Get over the two wives formula. I mean seriously, this topic has been done to death. Contrary to our drama makers’ beliefs, watching two screeching young women fight over a middle-aged man is mind numbingly boring. 3. Suspicion is not the most common reason for divorce. There’s money, interfering in-laws and a whole lot of other factors. Try focusing on them too. 4. Get some lights: this is a special message for A&B productions, please buy some lights. Oh, and while you are at the store, some make up too. 5. Stop stretching serials till you ruin them. 22 episodes are enough for anyone. 6. Give talented young people a chance. Just because so and so has been hanging around since the age of dinosaurs and they knew your father’s cousin’s mother does not mean the audience has to put up with them. 7. The handful of incredibly talented directors is one of the biggest reasons Pakistani dramas are suddenly on the map. Nurture their creativity instead of making them compete, or undermining them and pushing them down. 8. Pay your writers better. Pakistani writers are the other reason Pakistani dramas are reaching such heights of excellence. Appreciate them for their work. Allow them to write with depth and nuance instead of demanding the same mazloom aurat and love triangle themes every other day. 9. While everyone understands the need for actors to work, it has become a joke how actors mix up lines and characters because they are on so many different sets. At least get better continuity and some software that can dub out their lines so the entire scene isn’t ruined. 10. Stay authentic. Despite all the cribbing and complaints, there is a spark of brilliance and talent in the Pakistani entertainment industry which cannot be suppressed. Let it shine bright. Both Pakistani and Indian drama industries have created amazing dramas but both still have a lot to learn. Here’s to hoping that our dramas become better and we are able to have a cultural exchange where both parties mutually share good quality content and advice.

It is said that the way people drive in a country tells a lot about how disciplined and orderly its citizens are. Well, I realised this on two occasions; first, when I came back to Pakistan from the United Arab Emirates and second, when I returned from Sri Lanka. On both occasions, the contrast in driving patterns was painfully evident. The impatience and desperation of Pakistani drivers and their low maturity level made me feel worried about the future of this nation. I saw people taking the wrong side of the road just to save around Rs10 worth of petrol and diesel, all the while putting their lives as well as the lives of others at risk. What’s even worst is that if they hit you while coming from the wrong side, they’ll blame it on you for driving carelessly. I have been honked at on different occasions, by I don’t know how many people, for stopping my car at a red light on a traffic signal in Karachi. I have also been honked at by many car drivers for letting another car go before me on a roundabout or on a cut and I was also cursed once for giving way to a pedestrian because nobody else would. Let me make a few things clear over here. No, I am not saying that I am a perfect, law-abiding citizen or driver. Yes, I do make mistakes. I do, sometimes, make irresponsible turns and cuts. But neither do I want to do it all the time nor have I made it a habit to drive or behave irresponsibly. However, that is not the case with most drivers. I only mention these instances because many a time I see people trying to get through first – when it is actually someone else’s turn – and then getting themselves and others stuck in a traffic jam just because of their impatience and haste. What use is such behaviour to society or to individuals? I see people cursing others when they make a mistake on the road and I think, why swear on someone like that? Nobody has to curse anybody at all for a simple driving mistake. In fact, a reassuring smile depicting “no worries, we are all humans” can actually work on a person better. But we (including me) have to make a fuss every time and resolve to addressing each other with swear words and curses. We all cuss the government that it doesn’t do its job in the right manner and God knows what, but do we fulfil our duties as responsible citizens? How many times have you thought about cleanliness before throwing a candy or chocolate wrapper on the road? How many times have you thought about breaking a signal, and have felt pride after successfully doing so? How many times have you considered how your behaviour will reflect upon everyone else in the society? Have you ever thought about becoming a responsible citizen? How many times have you considered that other people in your society have the same rights as you? Is it only the government’s responsibility to fulfil its duties with honesty? Or does it apply on us as well? I can understand people breaking signals after midnight, since our country’s law and order situation is unimpressive and it is not really that harmful to do so in the middle of the night. But doing it all the time, irrespective of time and place, is wrong. People, we have to behave in a civic way. We must behave ourselves. Our attitude and behaviour is not that of a nation that wants to develop its land and people. We behave in a way that is reminiscent of a selfish after-game crowd where everyone just wants to get out of the stadium without giving way to anyone else. Sometimes I consider if what Hassan Nisar often says about us Pakistanis is actually true:

“This is not a nation, it’s a mob”.

The term “Na maloon afraad”, in recent times, has become almost ubiquitous and synonymous with those unknown/anonymous miscreants that are up to no good at all vis-à-vis to any law and order situation in our major cities. However, this time around, it has a comedic spin surrounding it; enter Na Maloom Afraad, the Pakistani feature movie! [embed width="620"]http://vimeo.com/99359741[/embed] Suffice to say, the consensus will be unanimously positive and endearing when one will head out to the movie theatres to see this particular motion picture; they will be thoroughly entertained and get their money’s worth. It is a pure masala film through and through, which is not a bad thing, seeing how lately there has been a great dearth of unadulterated, solely “paisa wasool” (worth your money) and quality entertainer movies that have been churned out of Lollywood, and Na Maloom Afraad delivers that aspect in abundance. By having Nabeel Qureshi as the director at the helm under the banner of Filmwala pictures, the film benefits greatly as a direct result. He has been acknowledged as one of the few directors that are playing their due and active role to usher in a new wave of contemporary Pakistani cinema. A cinema that is not merely about the “ghundas”, “Maula Jutts” and “Noori Naats” of our world but rather more about substance, quality, well-rounded scripts and overall aesthetics. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="536"] Photo: Na Maloom Afraad Facebook page[/caption] Speaking about the premise of the movie, it swivels around the three main protagonists: Shakeel Bhai (Javed Sheikh), Farhan (Fahad Mustafa) and Moon (Mohsin Abbas Haider). For the sake of not spoiling the story of the movie itself, let’s just say that fate intervenes and due to a series of unfortunate events, their paths get aligned and together, they conspire to plan something ‘big’ to earn fast and easy money. And what that ‘big’ thing is, you might ask? Well, you have to go to cinemas to see for yourself. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="536"] Photo: Na Maloom Afraad Facebook page[/caption] In the acting department, all actors demonstrate their acting prowess sufficiently, especially Fahad and Mohsin. Fahad has transitioned seamlessly from the smaller screen of the drama industry towards the bigger celluloid screen of the cinema format. Javed is, as usual, on point and Urwa Hocane has perhaps given her best performance yet that will strongly cement her position for future movie acting endeavours. Salman Shahid, in his portrayal as Gogi, requires special praise and kudos for the way he has portrayed this character. Perhaps one can’t help but to draw an outright parallel between his on screen persona of Mushtaq Bhai in Dedh Ishqiya and Gogi, but nonetheless his comedic timing remains impeccable as always. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="536"] Photo: Na Maloom Afraad Facebook Page[/caption] Ultimately, it is the trifecta (Javed, Fahad and Mohsin) that carries the movie competently on their shoulders because their chemistry is just amazing and they click and gel in with each other like three peas in a pod. Other cast members include Paras Masroor, Kubra Khan, Ali Rizvi and Nayyar Ejaz; they all hold their own in the limited on-screen time that they are given. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="536"] Photo: Na Maloom Afraad Facebook page[/caption] The director has intentionally opted to choose regular local Karachi landmarks and locations for shooting the bulk of the movie, instead of international exotic locales. Same is the case with shooting the songs of the movie. The subject of the story is such that showing outdoor and extravagant foreign location in large proportions will seem out of place and incompatible with the on-going theme of the movie. In particular, it will resonate well with Karachiites and they surely will appreciate the fact that their daily commuting routes, streets, back alleys and roads are shown extensively in the movie. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="536"] Photo: Na Maloom Afraad Facebook page[/caption] In terms of the musical score of the movie, it will rival any Bollywood flick, as all the songs are catchy and melodious, especially the item song Billi in which Mehwish Hayat exhibits her dancing talent. She is simply scintillating, drop dead gorgeous and spectacular. Finally Pakistanis have an item song they can call their own, without going into the merits or the demerits of the culture of embedding an item song in a movie; it is a reality whether one likes it or not. Instead of playing the usual Munnis, Jalebi Bais and Chikni Chembalis of Bollywood over and over again in our local functions such as weddings and the likes, Billi will be a better if not equal substitute for them for some time to come. [embed width="620"]http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x25e88y_billi-na-maloom-afraad-movie-song-featuring-fahad-mustafa-urwa-hocane-and-javed-shiekh-audio-song_music[/embed] To sum it all up, Na Maloon Afraad doesn’t exactly transcend its genre led clichés but it does however offer quality entertainment in bucket loads. The songs, the comedic timing, the punchy yet idiosyncratic hard-to-forget one liners coupled with an excellent timing that will not drag the film and the subtle social commentary. To the naysayers, it is a request that instead of trying to find flaws in our locally generated movies such as that it’s inspired from the likes of Hera Pheri or any other Bollywood movie, we ought to applaud the fact that after such a long hiatus, some good, wholesome movies are again coming out in Pakistan which are locally made. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="536"] Photo: Na Maloom Afraad Facebook page[/caption] It would be almost criminal (pun intended) to miss this one out. Na Maloon Afraad is a riot, in every sense of the word that would leave its audience short of laughing fits and aneurysms!

“Pakistan? Where are your burqas?” “We don’t wear one”, I gestured to my friends and myself. “Yeah, of course – not on holidays. But you know, the ones you’re forced to wear in Pakistan.”

“No, we don’t. It’s usually a personal choice.” “But…” his voice trailed off.

“Did someone hire you to Photoshop these?”

“I see you guys jump from Urdu to English in one sentence and it’s remarkable. I can never do that.” “Comes from being bilingual,” we reasoned.

“Sometimes you speak in different languages, for example we’d switch from Punjabi for a fruit seller, to Urdu for a visit to a bank.”

“I want to come next summer to meet you all. Let me find a job and then I’ll show up at your doorstep!”

The moment I read news regarding the word ‘Gullu’ being added to the Oxford Dictionary, I felt completely dumbfounded. Like as if something that shouldn’t have happened, did happen, and in the worst way possible. Undoubtedly, the Azadi and Inqibal sit-ins have contributed in helping Gullu make his way to where he is now. I always wondered about the way these leaders choose to endorse this term time and time again in their speeches, and how foreigners listening to them might get confused with what this word actually meant. Even if they had translated the entire speech into English, the word ‘Gullu’ would still have remained unchanged and meaningless. Its meaning in Pakistan, however, is varying. While leaders from the opposition regard the term ‘Gullu’ as equivalent to a terrorist, our government symbolises it for casual road crimes. The courts, however, are in a dilemma as to whether the crime he conducted really was so serious that it made its way to international news. However, now this dilemma can finally be solved and all parties can agree to a standard definition of the term ‘Gullu’, and that is,

“Disruptive behaviour of someone enjoying (whether explicit or implicit) backing of the ruling/powerful segments of society”.

After depriving the world of the most glorious sight in international cricket – Saeed Ajmal in all his grace, splendour and beauty giving an interview to Nasser Hussain after a match – the ICC plans to throw the book at bowlers. I welcome this hard-line decision taken by the International Cricket Council (ICC) on the matter; if only these regulations had come a few years earlier, Kachra would never have been able to win the match for the farmers and the British could have enjoyed imposing dugna lagaan. Had they banned Imran Khan, our politics would have been deprived of the numerous cricket analogies that have become a part of the national lexicon. On the bright side, the tehreek (movement) against dhandhlee (rigging) could have started two decades earlier and by now we would have been waving at the Indian satellite to Mars, from our Naya Pakistan colony on the red planet. If only we had allowed the ICC to cherry pick our best bowlers and ban them based on arbitrary rules historically, there would be so much more stability in our team now. Rana Naveedul Hasan would have been leading our attack, a man who surely has vivid memories of our World Cup victory in 1992, since his age then must have only been a mere 65 years. Mohammad Amir would have never needed to bowl a no-ball from halfway down the pitch; Mohammad Asif would not need to resort to taking dope in Dubai and Mushtaq Ahmed could have retired much earlier to focus on being a full-time Osama bin Laden doppelganger. Ajmal’s ban has forced Pakistan to hand a test debut to Zulfiqar Babar, a childhood friend of Hasan, the only two people alive who actually saw the Jurassic Park – and no, I don’t mean the movie. Please ban him for a suspect action and put him out of his misery so he can enjoy the last few centuries of his life peacefully with his childhood friends, the mummies of Egypt. Verdict: Ban him! We also have Sohail Tanvir to offer to the ICC, a bowler exactly like Wasim Akram, without the talent, the ability or the charisma, but other than that even a blind monkey could not tell the two apart. Tanvir’s facial expressions in every match are one of complete astonishment – even he cannot believe he was picked to play. Legend has it that he learnt to bowl by combining the ancient art of Kathak with his best impersonation of an octopus caught in fishing net. Verdict: Ban Him! God, I have never asked for much throughout my life but if there is any sense of justice in the world then the least ICC can do after banning Ajmal is to give some ray of hope for the future of cricket in Pakistan by banning Mohammad Sami too. He sounds like Maria Sharapova every time he bowls but she is probably better at cricket than he is. Mohammad Sami’s passion for bowling is such that he often bowls three overs into one; he holds the record for the longest over in cricket. At least the crowd cannot claim that they do not get their money’s worth with Sami; sadly, it is usually the opposing crowd. There are rumours that he was actually created in a laboratory by RAW and BCCI to ensure India never loses to Pakistan. The only condition set by India for all bilateral series with Pakistan have been that Sami must be picked for the team. I would risk the severance of all cricketing ties with India just to never see Sami in a green jersey again, or without one. Verdict: Ban him! Once the ICC is done with this lot, they can take care of the rest as well. Junaid Khan can go back to being the best carpet salesman in the country and Mohammad Irfan can finally pursue his true calling – fighting the Great Khali in a ladder match at Wrestlemania. Shohaib Malik seems to have banned himself from playing cricket so the ICC has nothing to worry about there. This would leave us with Mohammad Hafeez and Shahid Afridi; it is widely known that the two do not get along so they would never agree to bowl together from either end. At this stage, you must be wondering,

“But that would mean we have no bowlers left?”

A few days back, while I was on my way to college, I came across the road near Expo Centre, where the traffic was choked. Naturally, I flipped my hair and smiled at the people in the neighbouring cars; and what do you know, they smiled back! After that we got out of our respective cars, started dancing in the middle of the street with cups of tea that magically appeared in our hands. We danced and swirled while others clapped and hooted. Then, all of a sudden, the traffic opened up, everyone got back into their cars and drove on happily to their respective destinations. Ah! What a perfect day. Isn’t this what our advertisement industry shows us every day? Of course, the above mentioned incident never really happened and never will, not in Pakistan, not in America or even in some remote corner in Africa; it will never happen anywhere, because no one does that! No one thinks that dancing in the middle of the street, on a busy weekday, whilst sipping on cups of magic tea, is normal. From chewing gums to cell phones, the dancing glitz has now become an integral part of our advertisements. Here are a few examples where there was absolutely no need to add dance numbers and yet the directors seemed to feel the need for the redundant dance to take place anyway, making some utterly senseless advertisements. A cellular network advertisement The TV commercial starts off with the line,

“Yun chalay kay ballay ballay! Internet kay mazay tu kar lay!”

Pakistan’s television industry has seen from amazing times – when classics such as Dhoop Kinarey charmed viewers all around the country as well as across the border – to the not-so-amazing times, when aunties gathered around television screens for nothing better than ‘saas-bahu’ soaps. Fortunately, the growth in television productions has recently been phenomenal, with dozens of serials airing on the ever growing number of television channels in the country. As the entertainment industry expands, its impact on society surpasses the mere purpose of entertaining. It begins to highlight social issues and influences thinking and behaviour among the population. A ton of storytelling on Pakistani television today pinpoints the plaguing issues our people continue to face, dowry being one of them. However, the realisation of road safety as an issue still remains insignificant. According to WHO,

“Seat belts reduce the risk of a fatal injury by up to 50% for front seat occupants, and up to 75% for rear seat occupants.”

Perhaps the most impressive thing about O21 is that it was made at all. Aside from the fact that this bi-lingual Pakistani film boasts a talented cast of both Pakistani and foreign actors, and is helmed by filmmaker Jamshed Mahmood Raza, aka Jami – who here has directed his first feature length film – O21 also takes a risk by featuring a narrative that avoids all the cliché-ridden trappings of a Pakistani film. A bigger risk, however, is the pacing of the film, which at times is so slow that it makes the deliberately paced cinematic Steven Kubrick classic 2001: A Space Odyssey seem like Usain Bolt running on angel dust by comparison. [embed width="620"]http://vimeo.com/96420127[/embed] I have been dismayed by the many published Pakistani film reviews terming O21 as an ‘intelligent’ film simply because it takes its time. Certainly, there seems to be some confusion where reviewers are apparently identifying slowness as a sign of smartness. In fact, it has been amusing to note that plenty of O21 fans have been dumb-shamed into liking the film. Anyone who doesn’t like the film is told that they aren’t grasping the finer points of O21’s filmmaking and can’t appreciate how captivatingly it moves, as if it were some beautifully slow ballerina rather than a limping horse that should have been shot after the first act. Wonderfully engrossing films that reward patience such as 2001: A Space Odyssey, Solaris, The Godfather, Zodiac, Lawrence of Arabia and the likes, aren’t cinematic masterpieces simply because they are slow. If sluggish pacing had been the only benchmark, then any filmmaker could capture paint drying and win the hearts of critics and fans alike. No, there has to be some method to the madness. For example, the long iconic scene in Lawrence of Arabia where we scan the dry landscape for a sign of life until we finally see a dot in the distance, which slowly but surely reveals itself to be a man approaching on a camel, is a piece of filmmaking where every second was used effectively. That’s not to say that O21 fails to use any of its relaxed speed without effect. For my money, the first half of the film is as gripping as any film I’ve seen. It certainly takes a lot of talent to evoke tension without resorting to gratuitous violence, and in various ways I was reminded of Steven Soderbergh’s Traffic as well as Kathryn Bigelow’s Zero Dark Thirty, with what certainly was edge-of-the-seat stuff. I also enjoyed the time gimmick that may have been inspired by the TV show, 24. Clearly, Jami is one of the most talented filmmakers in the nation. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="397"] Jamshed Mahmood Raza. Photo: Operation O21 Facebook Page[/caption] But like a roller-coaster that keeps climbing without a payoff, O21 fails to bring its foreplay to a satisfying conclusion. Eventually, O21 begins to resemble a South Park episode parodying the spy genre. When the climax does come, it is desperately disappointing. Here, the house of Kashif Siddiqui (Shaan Shahid) is attacked in an action sequence which is atrociously edited. It is quite evident from O21 and Waar that Pakistani filmmakers are competent at shooting drama, but lack any skill whatsoever at directing action sequences. Sadly, the over produced action sequences in O21 are comically bad, where the characters are magically teleporting between shots from one corner to another. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="600"] Photo: Operation O21 Facebook Page[/caption] The poor and rather unintelligent second half of the film also weighs down the fairly interesting narrative. O21’s examination of the spy network between Pakistan and Afghanistan is quite absorbing, where most of the players are motivated by personal objectives rather than nationalism. The characterisation of Pakistani spy Kashif is a mixed bag however. On one hand I enjoyed how Kashif wasn’t presented as a squeaky clean military man, but on the other was disappointed that Shaan – for the umpteenth time – was playing a character weighed down by the guilt of a dead wife. This is just a lazy piece of writing designed to evoke empathy. Ladies, he may look good in a suit, but that’s too many dead spouses. O21 suffers from other flaws as well. The cinematography is quite dull, and the grainy muddy camerawork does little justice to what should have been gorgeous backdrops. On the other hand, the performances, though at times uneven, are generally quite good, especially from veteran actor Ayub Khoso (Abdullah). [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="600"] Ayub Khoso. Photo: Operation O21 Facebook Page[/caption] Despite the glaring imperfections, O21 is an important instalment in Pakistan’s woeful cinematic history. It might not be a smart entry on the silver screen but it certainly raises the average intelligence level of Pakistani films by several notches, and is hopefully paving the road for great films.