26 September 2007
General Musharraf wants to remain President and Chief of Army so he’s been trying to amend the constitution to accommodate him. I mean the writ of a nation, not of a Resident Welfare Association or the lights out time of a hostel dormitory. The constitution of a country could be fixed to accommodate an individual. And the poor guy is getting so much flak for it. Not fair.
He and his nation are at the centre of this column. And why I think he’s so nice and homely and should stay.
Before proceeding any further, lets understand what exactly a banana republic is?
“Banana republic is a pejorative term for a small, often Latin American, Caribbean or African country that is politically unstable, dependent on limited agriculture, and ruled by a small, self-elected, wealthy and corrupt clique…..The term was coined by O. Henry, an American humorist and …..”
Yes-yes. We know – blah-di-blah-di-blah…Wikipedia and dictionaries thank you. Away from the jargon lets have it in English please. Our very own desi English for us normal types.
Simply put a banana republic is a homely place. Where everything is very homely. Pch! You know, ghar ki baat. Things are run in a very homely manner. If something goes wrong a nice homely remedy can fix it. You understand homely na? A technicality is impeding my right to rule, arre change the rule na, ghar ki baat. No formality please, come-come. Sit-sit. Have a samosa, I’ll just get the constitution.
Nothing is above a homely fix. Constitution, judiciary, law, rules and the likes all can be subjected to homely gharelu nuskhas.
Like, let me explain with a homely scene:
“So chalo Parvez beta change your uniform, we have to go for Birthday party to President hotel. Wear nice civilian clothes.”
“WAHHH!! I don’t wanna take off my new uniform. I like my uniform.”
“Pch! But beta you have to na. See, when playing you wear games dress, when studying you wear tie na? So how you can be guest in President hotel with uniform. They have rules na.”
“WAHHHH!! Noo..NAAHHHH!!!! WHAAA!!”
“Uff!! Chalo theek hai. Shortcut Aziz kaka, forget it. Let him wear the dress if he likes it. We can always adjust na. Just get the constitution, wahan kone mein padi hai, with Chintu’s tiffin. Haan just remove a few rules.”
Like that.
Even the Prime Minister Shaukat Aziz also called Shortcut Aziz was made Prime Minister via shortcut. Of course he soon might realize shortcuts don’t usually end in happy places and if possible he can always sneak off back abroad having served Pakistan for a homely stint. Like summer holidays at home na. But then again with Nawaz and Benazir being the other delicacies on the menu to choose from it’s not exactly a fancy Sunday buffet. Its more a homely mish mash of leftover dishes na.
Many countries including ours have from time to time teetered at the edge of banananess (no that’s not a real word, just made it up, its all homely. Please don’t nitpick). Like you remember na, in India also when there was that scene in the 70s.
“Waahh. They are asking me to vacate my high chair.”
“Never mind, we’ll try to get it back in another election.”
“NO! NO!! I want it now. Wahhh!!”
“But Madam the Allahabad a high court has ruled against you. Judgment against your election to the Lok Sabha. It will be annulled. Your might have to step down as Prime Minister.”
“No no. This is my chair. I want it.”
“But rules madam. Law of the land”
“Oho! Chalo theek hai.. we’ll adjust na. Its an emergency”
“Err.. but what’s the emergency”
“If there isn’t we’ll make an Emergency, pass the 39th and 42nd amendment. Done finished. Just get the constitution, there it is, under my tiffin.”
“Haan! Ok!! Now no one can take your high chair away from you”
There have been several other scenes over the years, a case in point being a sitting cabinet minister being on the run/underground with a non-bailable warrant against him.
Picture this: cabinet meeting in progress, Prime Minister asks – “So where is the minister for mines?”
“Sir we don’t know. He’s on the run since the police is out to arrest him.”
“Oh! Ok, lets get on with the meeting then.”
But we’re fine. We’re erred and learnt. These are minor flirtations with banananess that one sees from time to time.
So I’m not complaining. I like homely, homely is nice, homely is familiar. Homely is…homely.
So where were we.. haan Pakistan and General Musharraf. Uff, I get so carried away and digress, too much.
So all this call for General’s removal and protests and all make me feel very bad, because my memory of the General is truly fond.
The year was 2006 in November at Lahore and the Gustakhi Maaf team had been invited to participate in the - Rafi Pir Foundation International Performing Arts Festival. Organized by the respected and formidable Pirzada family. Usmaan Pirzada the master of ceremony and many other Pirzadas contributing. They were dressed to kill, sophisticated, aristocratic and truly brilliant. Quite the la-di-da affair it was really.
Sounds pretty grand huh? You have no idea.
800 delegates from 40 countries, 20 performances a day at the Alhamra Cultural Complex Floodlights, green grass, arty types from Spain, America, Israel, Italy and God knows where else lounging around on manicured lawns, musicians jamming in this magical atmosphere.
Arre, I digress again. Where were we? Yes, General Musharraf and his homely-ness.
So having soaked in the atmosphere here we were at the opening ceremony seated in the front row of a semi circular arena. .About 20 feet and one aisle across sat General Musharraf and his wife and an entourage of sidekicks - from the Chief Minister of Sindh to the CEO of the telecom company that had sponsored the event and several other accented Pakistanis in expensive threads and spectacularly servile body language.
The evening began and there were singers from Spain who sang, I don’t know what. I mean this middle aged lady came right to the top of the stage and stood 10 feet from General Musharraf. And shrieked so loud that he quaked with fear. I suspect Nawaz Sharif had sent her to demoralize the General who had to meet her eye since she was singing for him and him alone. So with a perplexed half smile he just looked and looked until she was out of breath and retreated and looked no more into his eyes. He heaved a sigh. I swear he did. He looked so vulnerable; I refuse to believe he is a ruthless dictator.
Then there were some more performances of salsa dancers two of who slipped and fell on stage. Also the salsa they did was different from any other salsa I’ve seen, but what do I know and it was nice and homely. Then there were some singers from Italy who like kinda, like, jammed, and like kinda, just had fun on stage and like kinda, we had no clue what was played and like ok then ciao guys. It was all very homely.
And then it happened. The moment that blew me away. Left me speechless.
So the very attractive bright red sari clad Lady Pirzada trots onto stage and announces - “She will dazzle you and make your feet want to dance. Now we bring you World’s Biggest Pop Singer….”
I held my breath. Sure Pak-US relations were great but surely Bush couldn’t swing a Madonna concert for buddy Musharraf. Ok I’m old, think young, new generation, yes, maybe its Britney.
But after a pause the announcer said….”The Worlds Biggest Pop Star.. from (long pause) UKRAINE!”
“*”
“Umm!!”
Ukraine?!
Lady Pirzada went on – “The worlds biggest pop star from Ukraine, KAMALIA!!!”
And there on stage accompanied by background dancers (Shiamak Davar meets Saroj Khan) skipped in a gorgeous svelte blond stunner, Kamalia. From Ukraine. She was stunning. No joke! Her outfit was tighter than skin and it proved that Pakistan under the General is truly liberal. She was exquisite. From Ukraine.
Actually no longer from Ukraine, because she also happened to be the wife of the steel or mines or industries minister, or some minister or the other. Bollywood song sequence style, she did two or three outfit changes during the performances. Gold, black, red, tassels, I mean you name it. Pelting out Hindi pop, English pop, film songs, all lip-synched.
Now while every persons eyes were glued to the stage I just had to look at General Musharraf and Sehba Musharraf to see what they thought of this performance. And the General’s wife charmed me completely. Sehba Musharraf. I shall refer to her as Sehba Aunty because the whole thing was so homely. Sehba aunty sat there in her totally non flashy salwar kurta next to suit clad husband Parvez and clapped as the Ukrainian beauty lip synched “Boom Boom”. You know the Biddu - Nazia Hassan song of the 80’s. –
“Boom boom, jab bhi milte hain hum tum..
aakho aankhon mein hote hain gum
dil bole boom booom.”
That one. And Kamalia from Ukraine knew the lyrics!! Cool or what? Did I not tell you this was a truly spectacular performing arts festival?
So as Kamalia from Ukraine (now married into Pakistan) gyrated wildly, dancing and boogying in gay abandon and her blond mane behind her flame-like flew all over the place, Sehba aunty clapped her hands. But this wasn’t clapping like wild clapping over her head and head rocking and all.
This is the other clapping. When the head nods form side to side, a very aunty type maneuver not to be confused by the head-bobbing front to back, which is a very young rockers maneuver. Musharraf uncle too was tapping his hand on his lap and shaking his head from side to side.
So head nodding Sehba aunty had one hand in lap and the other palm bouncing off it. If you’ve been at a Punjabi wedding, it’s a very tappa like maneuver. So here was Boom-boom disco lights, background Bollywood type dancers being led by the dreamlike Kamalia, and Sehba aunty clapping tappa like.
If you took the audio out of the scene and just focused on the General and his wife you’d think the song they were listening to was the popular Punjabi folk “Lathe di chadar, utte saleti rang maiha HOY! HOY”. So homely was the atmosphere.
Many culture vultures may have turned up their noses at the festival. Many would say that its so, so.. so…struggling for a word? Yes say it. Spit it out. YES! It’s so HOMELY!! It was like Golden night in school. Or house feast on teacher’s day with skits by all classes, or performances by Bhabi, Preeto didi and Jeejaji at Bubbly’s wedding.
But bhaiyya I think it was fantastic. It was fun. And most of all it was homely. Homely is nice, homely is familiar. Homely is uncomplicated and so… homely. And I so want to be a part of it again.
So this is why I don’t want the General to go.
Because he was so impressed by the festival that half way through he announced 30lakh rupees support for it. No problem. No proposal to be approved or passed by any authority or ministry. No one to question why taxpayer’s money should go into paying for Steel/Mines minister’s wife – Kamaalia’s dance item. Just like that, homely. “This festival shows Pakistan’s soft image and commitment to art and culture. That we are into music dance and all. So 30lakh is granted” announced the General.
So, if the General uncle goes, I hope the new regime will continue to support this festival. And I pray that we are invited again. So Mohtarma Benazir and Nawaz bhai, please let culture and art prosper in Pakistan. I so hope we find you Benazir aunty clapping as your head rhythmically nods from side to side as the Biggest Pop star in The World from Belarus performs the Geri Halliwell hit –
“Its raining men. Hoy-hoy!
Its raining men!! Shava! Shava!!
Its raining men!! Balle!! balle!!
Its raining men…..haio rabba.. its raining men… amen…” Amen!
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