Bol and Social Change

After resisting several messages about the story line (I hear they weren't true) and fighting off my sister screaming the story in my headphones over skype, I finally watched Bol today. I was frenzied at the start, the presence of hyper friends like mine has that effect, and to be honest a swollen-faced Atif Aslam painstakingly forcing a tragic look was hilarious enough to reinforce our, what must have been annoying, behaviour. As the movie progressed things calmed down. The movie had its gripping effect and the audience was entirely captivated. The black humor hit the spot and managed to crack people up despite the melancholy that prevailed. By the time it ended our mood seemingly was the same but as I came home, far from the crazy company I had, scenes from the movie started to replace the goofy laughs. The adrenaline was substituted by a strong sense of sadness, depression and a painful reminder of the monstrous proportion of change required. Bol has managed to raise issues that shouldn't come as a surprise to an aware Pakistani but it would to some of those present. You see ignorance is bliss for some after all and boy do some of us want to stay there. Anyway, leaving my sad sarcasm aside, there is no doubt that pertinent issues have been raised but the chances that it will act as a trigger for social change are grim. I say this because we are a very rigid and sadly patient nation. Staying hushed may have its benefits but it is certainly no good when it starts to hinder our mere existence like it has in our country. We sat in the in the cold of patience to escape the heat but we've been there long enough to numb us. We no longer feel, we're just lying there like lumps of cold meat.

As a movie Bol is outstanding by Pakistani standards whereas Shafqat Cheema's acting is amazing by any standards. For me, the wit and black humor did the trick. Some of the added positives were the inclusion of actors from lollywood. In doing so, Shoain Mansoor has helped in not creating a rift between the 'revived' cinema and lollywood. Although it's sad that it is now only that these actors' skills will be acclaimed by many but it's been about time that they were. I hadn't seen Humaima Malick's work before and I believe she did a splendid job. Why Mahira Khan was used in the publicity instead of her is a mystery to me given the fact that she even has the central role.

I hope Bol is released on DVD and aired on television channels soon because the Pakistani woman who really needs to watch it isn't allowed to go to the cinema. Although a brilliant movie I have my reservations when it comes to voices saying it will trigger social change. I hope I'm wrong. What we really need for a social change is a blast of hot air and sizzling burns to bring us out of the numbness of the patient cold.

Helplessness

For when ecstasy stems out of the darkest moments even the best of us don't know how to handle it.

Fruittella

Once upon there was a lady with hair as beautiful as you can imagine. She'd grow it long just so to cut it every time; she'd make it into wigs for cancer patients. For years this went on and there were many who would hold their head high as they wore the shine, the shine they believed that would bring them back the world. The lady was loved and the hair more so.

Then one day, that was just as close to any normal day as it could be, for each day has it's smiles, the lady saw a strand of pink in her hair. She hid it like the fruit vendor hid the rancid fruit. But with every passing day the fruit turned more spoilt until eventually a good half of her hair was a psychedelic pink. As she thought of donating the hair this time she faced doubt. She was so used to the normality of her standard visits that it made her unsure. As unsure as a poor man at a buffet. She walked in, with a lamination of acquired confidence with denial as its backing force and she gave in the hair.

As expected, the wigs were refused and those who did wear them found isolation not as hard as they would have. The lady's stature shrank and things were no longer the way they were before. She wasn't the loved. The love the lady had for these people waned at faster pace.

There came a time when the lady had no longer cut her hair for decades. She now had the prettiest, most spirited lock of pink hair. She had forgotten about the patients, although they lived nearby, in a hospital, in her head, which had been shut down temporarily due to lack of janitors, nonetheless the patients were still there. Until one fine day a thought struck as does the thought of atheism to a clergyman. She waved it away calling it all that clergyman have been calling their doubts and wrapped the pink guts around her to sleep. The next morning she woke up realizing that denial had turned it's back on her. So the next night she sent an army of men to to fight her daemons. What follows is the aftermath of the skirmish.

One of the men came back. One said that the enemy had it's reasons and only few among it were as strong as her friend to have resisted this temptation, it was their weakness which had invoked the soreness. As the lady listened to the survivor smilingly, another survivor, battered and bruised limped forward. The lady patiently waited for him, all the time an air of self-assuredness captivating her, until the messenger fell to her feet. Gasping for air, half uttering - half mouthing the words he said something which the lady best understood as "This messenger lost an eye, your enemy has pink hair, and it is the prettiest, most spirited lock of pink hair"

The Conspiracy

Snow can wait, it's already too dark
People run around in circles getting nowhere
Seldom they stop to notice they've lost their mark

Man has been conspiring against itself for how long I can't even recall
He's just out there hiding from himself, waiting for the fall

Looking deeper shows how it's all a big puzzle
look deeper and you will laugh

No matter where you stand you will laugh
And this laughter will be for everyone,
personal, ungraded and completely differentiated

And it's this inability of grading laughter which makes it all
Hilarious !

The Comeback !

Okay,
So it has really been a while since i posted on this, though i have been visiting it in the hope (failingly) that people might have visited Bearded Pop. I've been thinking to start writing properly again. A lot has changed since i last posted. The magnitude of the change is astronomical. I've had some emotional upheavals and have struggled to vent them out. I've felt the need to write a couple of times now but was unsure about the direction I want to take this blog into. Maybe, this is one thing that kept me away from this. Finished reading on something that motivated me to get my head down and get back to this. Above all, I came across some of my old writings and couldn't believe myself. My writing has deteriorated to an embarrassing extent. I have to write more frequently to at least reach the previous prowess I had (Yes I can brag here because I am bragging about the writer "Asad Ghafoor of a past time, of which I am a 'China' copy right now" from a distance). Frankly, i am worried whether I'll be able to match the previous standards.
The main goal is just to keep up. I have a lot on my plate at the moment. I haven't had time to finish the smallest of books for a while now. And with the goals i have for this semester, things are very tight.
Let's do this thing and I feel this is going to find it's place (although there will be a constant effort on my part not to turn this into a personal diary or an account of how i screw or get screwed all day around). I'm kinda excited too (The image of the giggly girl with pigtails surfaces in my head).
Let's see how we do this time.
Happy Living :)

jorr

jorr jo parai hen un ko suljhana chahoon
ulajh gayi hai nazar
faqt apni shanakht k firaaq mai
khud ko he na lay sakoon sath apnai
tou phir kaise thaamoon tera hath
shaayad ye ik gumaan hai
shaayad us tufaan key pukaar
ya shaayad mai haq per hoon or too anjaan
lab seeyai rakhain gay kab talaq
uqaab si rakhni hai uraan
ik alam ka sawal hai saara
ye alam jo sehar k sath lehrai ga?
ye alam zameen bos ho jae ga?
ye alam hum donon lehrayen gay?
ye alam tareekion mai kho jae ga?

jorr

jorr jo parai hen un ko suljhana chahun