PENSIEVE: The power of Jugni —Farrukh Khan Pitafi

Jugni is nothing short of a literary device used by the poet to refer to either his own person or a pure soul unmolested by the charms of mortal life. And it is relevant because purity and innocence are under mortal pressure in Pakistan

Gradually and silently, the music scene of the country is being revolutionised. Ever since 2008 we are witnessing a surging interest in classical and folk music, thanks to the hard work of Rohail Hyatt and his Coke Studio. With every new season we receive the gift of fond memories, delicious fusion and relatively unknown talent. In these sombre days of terror, poverty and pain, if there could be any substantial service to the nation, this is it. Also I am glad that your television sets, your iPods and your DVD players are finally being reclaimed by the rightful owners of your leisure time, namely the artists. Otherwise, I had seriously begun fearing that the drought of imagination brought on by us talking heads on screen would stamp out all creativity from the Islamic republic. It has finally been proven that Pakistani singers and musicians are not only world class but also powerful enough to put an end to the ridiculous culture that feeds its consumers with insulting and self-effacing talk shows in the name of entertainment.

As soon as the new season of Coke Studio started, Arif Lohar and Meesha Shafi’s Jugni made its mark. Delightfully recomposed and imaginatively presented, the performance is hard to forget. Frankly, hardcore Punjabi folk music has never quite been my cup of tea and I tried my level best to avoid even this number until several of my friends finally managed to force it into my ears but then I was hooked. However, while I was ignorant of its essence, those who were introducing it to me were equally ignorant of the true meaning of Jugni. Indeed, many insisted on interpreting it literally as the female firefly or then as a beautiful girl. It took considerable time and persuasion to convince them that it is nothing short of a literary device used by the poet to refer to either his own person or a pure soul unmolested by the charms of mortal life.

And it is relevant because purity and innocence are under mortal pressure in Pakistan. The suffering of the innocent and pure in this ‘land of the pure’ is not exactly a secret now. Imagine a child beaten up by his stepfather every single day. Try feeling his pain. Then think of a man who has been asked to vacate his rented house and, in front of the entire community, his stuff is being thrown out the door. Feel his shame. Do not stop there. Let your imagination wander. There is a man whose child is ill at the end of the month and he has no money. After begging his so-called friends for some money, he is returning home empty-handed. Can you even begin to grasp the sense of nihilism he must be enduring? Do you get the same suffocating feeling that I do when I think of these things? I am sure you do but still I will not let you go. I want you to confront these demons so that something can be done.

The most tragic part of the story is that, in a country where we are so anxious to abolish nudity and vulgarity from the mass media, and the Taliban do not want to let girls continue their studies in the name of honour and shame, every single night, countless innocent girls and even minor boys are forced into prostitution. A country where so many structures are built on grabbed property and retained in the name of mosques, interest-based foreclosures turn many homeless every single week. Here, if you even try to speak in favour of the Ahmedis or other persecuted groups, out of mere compassion, in the next sentence you have to remind the listener that you do not belong to that group for fear of being dubbed as an Ahmedi yourself. If you can endure these terrible thoughts in this journey of imagination, you can claim to have been through your first Jugni moment.

My country has been through quite a lot and still is not out of the water. If we really love our country, as we often claim, we will have to start being loyal first to ourselves. Charity, as they quite often say, begins at home after all. We definitely need to reform ourselves. So, the next time you sit down to enjoy mystical music and come across the sufferings of Jugni, please spare some time to think about what the Jugni inside you is asking you to do. While the perverted ones will always be on our case, can we, in our own capacity, confront them and tell them that enough is enough?

And let me now bring you back to the issue of our still failing television culture. I believe you can only partially blame our talk shows for the declining quality of television entertainment. It is true that they are usually produced with very little investment and hence can get channel owners fixated. But there is more to it. The quality of television content started falling with the advent of soaps and shabbily written and produced sitcoms. While talk shows will continue to appeal to an audience that wants to stay informed and, hopefully, the element of nautanki-style drama will start ebbing away from them, the entertainment industry can recapture the limelight from Hindi and some other equally hostile news channels by working on its quality. Coke Studio has proven that if some attention is given to detail and imagination is applied to content development, we can rid our television sets of the mindless slavery of our hostile neighbours. And the example of Rohail Hyatt proves that while we can lose some like his singing partner and vocalist to the conservatives, those who are committed to quality art will always be there to rescue us. However, the aforementioned is only one good programme. We need something of a tsunami of such good products. If we do not get them, there is no means to ensure that the situation of identity crisis and confusion in Pakistan will not worsen further.

The writer is an independent columnist and a talk show host. He can be reached at farukh@gmail.com